grrm.astormofswords-第105章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


o　Ser　Jaime　at　once。〃　He　did　not　wait　for　an　answer；　but　turned　and　climbed　the　steps；　his　fur…trimmed　cloak　swirling　behind。　Jaime　had　only　enough　time　to　exchange　a　quick　look　with　Brienne　before　they　were　marched　away；　separately。
　In　the　maester's　chambers　beneath　the　rookery；　a　grey…haired；　fatherly　man　named　Qybum　sucked　in　his　breath　when　he　cut　away　the　linen　from　the　stump　of　Jaime's　hand。
　〃That　bad？　Will　I　die？〃
　Qybum　pushed　at　the　wound　with　a　finger；　and　wrinkled　his　nose　at　the　gush　of　pus。　〃No。　Though　in　a　few　more　days　。　。　。〃　He　sliced　away　Jaime's　sleeve。　〃The　corruption　has　spread。　See　how　tender　the　flesh　is？　I　must　cut　it　all　away。　The　safest　course　would　be　to　take　the　arm　off。〃
　〃Then　you'll　die；〃　Jaime　promised。　〃Clean　the　stump　and　sew　it　up。　I'll　take　my　chances。〃
　Qybum　frowned。　〃I　can　leave　you　the　upper　arm；　make　the　cut　at　your　elbow；　but　。　。　。〃
　〃Take　any　part　of　my　arm；　and　you'd　best　chop　off　the　other　one　as　well；　or　I'll　strangle　you　with　it　afterward。〃
　Qybum　looked　in　his　eyes。　Whatever　he　saw　there　gave　him　pause。　〃Very　well。　I　will　cut　away　the　rotten　flesh；　no　more。　Try　to　burn　out　the　corruption　with　boiling　wine　and　a　poultice　of　nettle；　mustard　seed；　and　bread　mold。　Mayhaps　that　will　suffice。　It　is　on　your　head。　You　will　want　milk　of　the　poppy…〃
　〃No。〃　Jaime　dare　not　let　himself　be　put　to　sleep；　he　might　be　short　an　arm　when　he　woke；　no　matter　what　the　man　said。
　Qyburn　was　taken　aback。　〃There　will　be　pain。〃
　〃I'll　scream。〃
　〃A　great　deal　of　pain。〃
　〃I'll　scream　very　loudly。〃
　〃Will　you　take　some　wine　at　least？〃
　〃Does　the　High　Septon　ever　pray？〃
　〃Of　that　I　am　not　certain。　I　shall　bring　the　wine。　Lie　back；　I　must　needs　strap　down　your　arm。〃
　With　a　bowl　and　a　sharp　blade；　Qyburn　cleaned　the　stump　while　Jaime　gulped　down　strongwine；　spilling　it　all　over　himself　in　the　process。　His　left　hand　did　not　seem　to　know　how　to　find　his　mouth；　but　there　was　something　to　be　said　for　that。　The　smell　of　wine　in　his　sodden　beard　helped　disguise　the　stench　of　pus。
　Nothing　helped　when　the　time　came　to　pare　away　the　rotten　flesh。　Jaime　did　scream　then；　and　pounded　his　table　with　his　good　fist；　over　and　over　and　over　again。　He　screamed　again　when　Qyburn　poured　boiling　wine　over　what　remained　of　his　stump。　Despite　all　his　vows　and　all　his　fears；　he　lost　consciousness　for　a　time。　When　he　woke；　the　maester　was　sewing　at　his　arm　with　needle　and　catgut。　〃I　left　a　flap　of　skin　to　fold　back　over　your　wrist。〃
　〃You　have　done　this　before；〃　muttered　Jaime；　weakly。　He　could　taste　blood　in　his　mouth　where　he'd　bitten　his　tongue。
　〃No　man　who　serves　with　Vargo　Hoat　is　a　stranger　to　stumps。　He　makes　them　wherever　he　goes。〃
　Qyburn　did　not　look　a　monster；　Jaime　thought。　He　was　spare　and　soft…spoken；　with　warm　brown　eyes。　〃How　does　a　maester　e　to　ride　with　the　Brave　panions？〃
　〃The　Citadel　took　my　chain。〃　Qyburn　put　away　his　needle。　〃I　should　do　something　about　that　wound　above　your　eye　as　well。　The　flesh　is　badly　inflamed。〃
　Jaime　closed　his　eyes　and　let　the　wine　and　Qyburn　do　their　work。　〃Tell　me　of　the　battle。〃　As　keeper　of　Harrenhal's　ravens；　Qyburn　would　have　been　the　first　to　hear　the　news。
　〃Lord　Stannis　was　caught　between　your　father　and　the　fire。　It's　said　the　Imp　set　the　river　itself　aflame。〃
　Jaime　saw　green　flames　reaching　up　into　the　sky　higher　than　the　tallest　towers；　as　burning　men　screamed　in　the　streets。　Ihave　dreamed　this　dream　before。　it　was　almost　funny；　but　there　was　no　one　to　share　the　joke。
　〃Open　your　eye。〃　Qyburn　soaked　a　cloth　in　warm　water　and　dabbed　at　the　crust　of　dried　blood。　The　eyelid　was　swollen；　but　Jaime　found　he　could　force　it　open　halfway。　Qyburn's　face　loomed　above。　〃How　did　you　e　by　this　one？〃　the　maester　asked。
　〃A　wench's　gift。〃
　〃Rough　wooing；　my　lord？〃
　〃This　wench　is　bigger　than　me　and　uglier　than　you。　You'd　best　see　to　her　as　well。　She's　still　limping　on　the　leg　I　pricked　when　we　fought。〃
　〃I　will　ask　after　her。　What　is　this　woman　to　you？〃
　〃My　protector。〃　Jaime　had　to　laugh；　no　matter　how　it　hurt。
　〃I'll　grind　some　herbs　you　can　mix　with　wine　to　bring　down　your　fever。　e　back　on　the　morrow　and　I'll　put　a　leech　on　your　eye　to　drain　the　bad　blood。〃
　〃A　leech。　Lovely。〃
　〃Lord　Bolton　is　very　fond　of　leeches；〃　Qyburn　said　primly。
　〃Yes；〃　said　Jaime。　〃He　would　be。〃
　
　CHAPTER　32
　TYRION
　
　Nothing　remained　beyond　the　King's　Gate　but　mud　and　ashes　and　bits　of　burned　bone；　yet　already　there　were　people　living　in　the　shadow　of　the　city　walls；　and　others　selling　fish　from　barrows　and　barrels。　Tyrion　felt　their　eyes　on　him　as　he　rode　past；　chilly　eyes；　angry　and　unsympathetic。　No　one　dared　speak　to　him；　or　try　to　bar　his　way；　not　with　Bronn　beside　him　in　oiled　black　mail。　If　I　were　alone；　though；　they　would　pull　me　down　and　smash　my　face　in　with　a　cobblestone；　as　they　did　for　Preston　Greenfield。
　〃They　e　back　quicker　than　the　rats；〃　he　plained。　〃We　burned　them　out　once；　you'd　think　they'd　take　that　as　a　lesson。〃
　〃Give　me　a　few　dozen　gold　cloaks　and　I'll　kill　them　all；〃　said　Bronn。　〃Once　they're　dead　they　don't　e　back。〃
　〃No；　but　others　e　in　their　places。　Leave　them　be　。　。　。　but　if　they　start　throwing　up　hovels　against　the　wall　again；　pull　them　down　at　once。　The　war's　not　done　yet；　no　matter　what　these　fools　may　think。〃　He　spied　the　Mud　Gate　up　ahead。　〃I　have　seen　enough　for　now。　We'll　return　on　the　morrow　with　the　guild　masters　to　go　over　their　plans。〃　He　sighed。　Well；　I　burned　most　of　this；　I　suppose　it's　only　just　that　I　rebuild　it。
　That　task　was　to　have　been　his　uncle's；　but　solid；　steady；　tireless　Ser　Kevan　Lannister　had　not　been　himself　since　the　raven　had　e　from　Riverrun　with　word　of　his　son's　murder。　Willem's　twin　Martyn　had　been　taken　captive　by　Robb　Stark　as　well；　and　their　elder　brother　Lancel　was　still　abed；　beset　by　an　ulcerating　wound　that　would　not　heal。　With　one　son　dead　and　two　more　in　mortal　danger；　Ser　Kevan　was　consumed　by　grief　and　fear。　Lord　Tywin　had　always　relied　on　his　brother；　but　now　he　had　no　choice　but　to　turn　again　to　his　dwarf　son。
　The　cost　of　rebuilding　was　going　to　be　ruinous；　but　there　was　no　help　for　that。　King's　Landing　was　the　realm's　principal　harbor；　rivaled　only　by　Oldtown。　The　river　had　to　be　reopened；　and　the　sooner　the　better。　And　where　am　I　going　to　find　the　bloody　coin？　it　was　almost　enough　to　make　him　miss　Littlefinger；　who　had　sailed　north　a　fortnight　past。　While　he　beds　Lysa　Arryn　and　rules　the　Vale　beside　her；　I　get　to　clean　up　the　mess　he　left　behind　him。　Though　at　least　his　father　was　giving　him　significant　work　to　do。　He　won't　name　me　heir　to　Casterly　Rock；　but　he'll　make　use　of　me　wherever　he　can；　Tyrion　thought；　as　a　captain　of　gold　cloaks　waved　them　through　the　Mud　Gate。
　The　Three　Whores　still　dominated　the　market　square　inside　the　gate；　but　they　stood　idle　now；　and　the　boulders　and　barrels　of　pitch　had　all　been　trundled　away。　There　were　children　climbing　the　towering　wooden　structures；　swarming　up　like　monkeys　in　roughspun　to　perch　on　the　throwing　arms　and　hoot　at　each　other。
　〃Remind　me　to　tell　Ser　Addam　to　post　some　gold　cloaks　here；〃　Tyrion　told　Bronn　as　they　rode　between　two　of　the　trebuchets。　〃Some　fool　boy's　like　to　fall　off　and　break　his　back。〃　There　was　a　shout　from　above；　and　a　clod　of　manure　exploded　on　the　ground　a　foot　in　front　of　them。　Tyrion's　mare　reared　and　almost　threw　him。　〃On　second　thoughts；〃　he　said　when　he　had　the　horse　in　hand；　〃let　the　poxy　brats　splatter　on　the　cobbles　like　overripe　melons。〃
　He　was　in　a　black　mood；　and　not　just　because　a　few　street　urchins　wanted　to　pelt　him　with　dung。　His　marriage　was　a　daily　agony。　Sansa　Stark　remained　a　maiden；　and　half　the　castle　seemed　to　know　it。　When　they　had　saddled　up　this　morning；　he'd　heard　two　of　the　stableboys　sniggering　behind　his　back。　He　could　almost　imagine　that　the　horses　were　sniggering　as　well。　He'd　risked　his　skin　to　avoid　the　bedding　ritual；　hoping　to　preserve　the　privacy　of　his　bedchamber；　but　that　hope　had　been　dashed　quick　enough。　Either　Sansa　had　been　stupid　enough　to　confide　in　one　of　her　bedmaids；　every　one　of　whom　was　a　spy　for　Cersei；　or　Varys　and　his　little　birds　were　to　blame。
　What　difference　did　it　make？　They　were　laughing　at　him　all　the　same。　The