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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 750/751
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Dany
took
the
torch
from
Aggo
's
hand
and
thrust
it
between
the
logs
.
The
oil
took
the
fire
at
once
,
the
brush
and
dried
grass
a
heartbeat
later
.
Tiny
flames
went
darting
up
the
wood
like
swift
red
mice
,
skating
over
the
oil
and
leaping
from
bark
to
branch
to
leaf
.
A
rising
heat
puffed
at
her
face
,
soft
and
sudden
as
a
lover
's
breath
,
but
in
seconds
it
had
grown
too
hot
to
bear
.
Dany
stepped
backward
.
The
wood
crackled
,
louder
and
louder
.
Mirri
Maz
Duur
began
to
sing
in
a
shrill
,
ululating
voice
.
The
flames
whirled
and
writhed
,
racing
each
other
up
the
platform
.
The
dusk
shimmered
as
the
air
itself
seemed
to
liquefy
from
the
heat
.
Dany
heard
logs
spit
and
crack
.
The
fires
swept
over
Mirri
Maz
Duur
.
Her
song
grew
louder
,
shriller
...
then
she
gasped
,
again
and
again
,
and
her
song
became
a
shuddering
wail
,
thin
and
high
and
full
of
agony
.
And
now
the
flames
reached
her
Drogo
,
and
now
they
were
all
around
him
.
His
clothing
took
fire
,
and
for
an
instant
the
khal
was
clad
in
wisps
of
floating
orange
silk
and
tendrils
of
curling
smoke
,
grey
and
greasy
.
Dany
's
lips
parted
and
she
found
herself
holding
her
breath
.
Part
of
her
wanted
to
go
to
him
as
Ser
Jorah
had
feared
,
to
rush
into
the
flames
to
beg
for
his
forgiveness
and
take
him
inside
her
one
last
time
,
the
fire
melting
the
flesh
from
their
bones
until
they
were
as
one
,
forever
.
She
could
smell
the
odor
of
burning
flesh
,
no
different
than
horseflesh
roasting
in
a
firepit
.
The
pyre
roared
in
the
deepening
dusk
like
some
great
beast
,
drowning
out
the
fainter
sound
of
Mirri
Maz
Duur
's
screaming
and
sending
up
long
tongues
of
flame
to
lick
at
the
belly
of
the
night
.
As
the
smoke
grew
thicker
,
the
Dothraki
backed
away
,
coughing
.
Huge
orange
gouts
of
fire
unfurled
their
banners
in
that
hellish
wind
,
the
logs
hissing
and
cracking
,
glowing
cinders
rising
on
the
smoke
to
float
away
into
the
dark
like
so
many
newborn
fireflies
.
The
heat
beat
at
the
air
with
great
red
wings
,
driving
the
Dothraki
back
,
driving
off
even
Mormont
,
but
Dany
stood
her
ground
.
She
was
the
blood
of
the
dragon
,
and
the
fire
was
in
her
.
She
had
sensed
the
truth
of
it
long
ago
,
Dany
thought
as
she
took
a
step
closer
to
the
conflagration
,
but
the
brazier
had
not
been
hot
enough
.
The
flames
writhed
before
her
like
the
women
who
had
danced
at
her
wedding
,
whirling
and
singing
and
spinning
their
yellow
and
orange
and
crimson
veils
,
fearsome
to
behold
,
yet
lovely
,
so
lovely
,
alive
with
heat
.
Dany
opened
her
arms
to
them
,
her
skin
flushed
and
glowing
.
This
is
a
wedding
,
too
,
she
thought
.
Mirri
Maz
Duur
had
fallen
silent
.
The
godswife
thought
her
a
child
,
but
children
grow
,
and
children
learn
.
Another
step
,
and
Dany
could
feel
the
heat
of
the
sand
on
the
soles
of
her
feet
,
even
through
her
sandals
.
Sweat
ran
down
her
thighs
and
between
her
breasts
and
in
rivulets
over
her
cheeks
,
where
tears
had
once
run
.
Ser
Jorah
was
shouting
behind
her
,
but
he
did
not
matter
anymore
,
only
the
fire
mattered
.
The
flames
were
so
beautiful
,
the
loveliest
things
she
had
ever
seen
,
each
one
a
sorcerer
robed
in
yellow
and
orange
and
scarlet
,
swirling
long
smoky
cloaks
.
She
saw
crimson
firelions
and
great
yellow
serpents
and
unicorns
made
of
pale
blue
flame
;
she
saw
fish
and
foxes
and
monsters
,
wolves
and
bright
birds
and
flowering
trees
,
each
more
beautiful
than
the
last
.
She
saw
a
horse
,
a
great
grey
stallion
limned
in
smoke
,
its
flowing
mane
a
nimbus
of
blue
flame
.
Yes
,
my
love
,
my
sun-and-stars
,
yes
,
mount
now
,
ride
now
.
Her
vest
had
begun
to
smolder
,
so
Dany
shrugged
it
off
and
let
it
fall
to
the
ground
.
The
painted
leather
burst
into
sudden
flame
as
she
skipped
closer
to
the
fire
,
her
breasts
bare
to
the
blaze
,
streams
of
milk
flowing
from
her
red
and
swollen
nipples
.
Now
,
she
thought
,
now
,
and
for
an
instant
she
glimpsed
Khal
Drogo
before
her
,
mounted
on
his
smoky
stallion
,
a
flaming
lash
in
his
hand
.
He
smiled
,
and
the
whip
snaked
down
at
the
pyre
,
hissing
.
She
heard
a
crack
,
the
sound
of
shattering
stone
.
The
platform
of
wood
and
brush
and
grass
began
to
shift
and
collapse
in
upon
itself
.
Bits
of
burning
wood
slid
down
at
her
,
and
Dany
was
showered
with
ash
and
cinders
.
And
something
else
came
crashing
down
,
bouncing
and
rolling
,
to
land
at
her
feet
;
a
chunk
of
curved
rock
,
pale
and
veined
with
gold
,
broken
and
smoking
.
The
roaring
filled
the
world
,
yet
dimly
through
the
firefall
Dany
heard
women
shriek
and
children
cry
out
in
wonder
.
Only
death
can
pay
for
life
.
