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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 748/751
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She
shuddered
when
it
entered
her
,
and
her
pain
and
stiffness
seemed
to
dissolve
.
She
floated
.
When
she
was
clean
,
her
handmaids
helped
her
from
the
water
.
Irri
and
Jhiqui
fanned
her
dry
,
while
Doreah
brushed
her
hair
until
it
fell
like
a
river
of
liquid
silver
down
her
back
.
They
scented
her
with
spiceflower
and
cinnamon
;
a
touch
on
each
wrist
,
behind
her
ears
,
on
the
tips
of
her
milk-heavy
breasts
.
The
last
dab
was
for
her
sex
.
Irri
's
finger
felt
as
light
and
cool
as
a
lover
's
kiss
as
it
slid
softly
up
between
her
lips
.
Afterward
,
Dany
sent
them
all
away
,
so
she
might
prepare
Khal
Drogo
for
his
final
ride
into
the
night
lands
.
She
washed
his
body
clean
and
brushed
and
oiled
his
hair
,
running
her
fingers
through
it
for
the
last
time
,
feeling
the
weight
of
it
,
remembering
the
first
time
she
had
touched
it
,
the
night
of
their
wedding
ride
.
His
hair
had
never
been
cut
.
How
many
men
could
die
with
their
hair
uncut
?
She
buried
her
face
in
it
and
inhaled
the
dark
fragrance
of
the
oils
.
He
smelled
like
grass
and
warm
earth
,
like
smoke
and
semen
and
horses
.
He
smelled
like
Drogo
.
Forgive
me
,
sun
of
my
life
,
she
thought
.
Forgive
me
for
all
I
have
done
and
all
I
must
do
.
I
paid
the
price
,
my
star
,
but
it
was
too
high
,
too
high
...
Dany
braided
his
hair
and
slid
the
silver
rings
onto
his
mustache
and
hung
his
bells
one
by
one
.
So
many
bells
,
gold
and
silver
and
bronze
.
Bells
so
his
enemies
would
hear
him
coming
and
grow
weak
with
fear
.
She
dressed
him
in
horsehair
leggings
and
high
boots
,
buckling
a
belt
heavy
with
gold
and
silver
medallions
about
his
waist
.
Over
his
scarred
chest
she
slipped
a
painted
vest
,
old
and
faded
,
the
one
Drogo
had
loved
best
.
For
herself
she
chose
loose
sandsilk
trousers
,
sandals
that
laced
halfway
up
her
legs
,
and
a
vest
like
Drogo
's
.
The
sun
was
going
down
when
she
called
them
back
to
carry
his
body
to
the
pyre
.
The
Dothraki
watched
in
silence
as
Jhogo
and
Aggo
bore
him
from
the
tent
.
Dany
walked
behind
them
.
They
laid
him
down
on
his
cushions
and
silks
,
his
head
toward
the
Mother
of
Mountains
far
to
the
northeast
.
"
Oil
,
"
she
commanded
,
and
they
brought
forth
the
jars
and
poured
them
over
the
pyre
,
soaking
the
silks
and
the
brush
and
the
bundles
of
dry
grass
,
until
the
oil
trickled
from
beneath
the
logs
and
the
air
was
rich
with
fragrance
.
"
Bring
my
eggs
,
"
Dany
commanded
her
handmaids
.
Something
in
her
voice
made
them
run
.
Ser
Jorah
took
her
arm
.
"
My
queen
,
Drogo
will
have
no
use
for
dragon
's
eggs
in
the
night
lands
.
Better
to
sell
them
in
Asshai
.
Sell
one
and
we
can
buy
a
ship
to
take
us
back
to
the
Free
Cities
.
Sell
all
three
and
you
will
be
a
wealthy
woman
all
your
days
.
"
"
They
were
not
given
to
me
to
sell
,
"
Dany
told
him
.
She
climbed
the
pyre
herself
to
place
the
eggs
around
her
sun-and-stars
.
The
black
beside
his
heart
,
under
his
arm
.
The
green
beside
his
head
,
his
braid
coiled
around
it
.
The
cream-and-gold
down
between
his
legs
.
When
she
kissed
him
for
the
last
time
,
Dany
could
taste
the
sweetness
of
the
oil
on
his
lips
.
