grrm.astormofswords-第40章

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　The　look　Brienne　gave　him　then　was　full　of　loathing。　She　would　gladly　hack　me　to　pieces；　but　for　her　precious　vow；　he　reflected。　Good。　I've　had　enough　of　feeble　pieties　and　maidens'　judgments。　The　wench　stalked　off　without　saying　a　word。　Jaime　curled　up　beneath　his　cloak；　hoping　to　dream　of　Cersei。
　But　when　he　closed　his　eyes；　it　was　Aerys　Targaryen　he　saw；　pacing　alone　in　his　throne　room；　picking　at　his　scabbed　and　bleeding　hands。　The　fool　was　always　cutting　himself　on　the　blades　and　barbs　of　the　Iron　Throne。　Jaime　had　slipped　in　through　the　king's　door；　clad　in　his　golden　armor；　sword　in　hand。　The　golden　armor；　not　the　white；　but　no　one　ever　remembers　that。　Would　that　I　had　taken　off　that　damned　cloak　as　well。
　When　Aerys　saw　the　blood　on　his　blade；　he　demanded　to　know　if　it　was　Lord　Tywin's。　〃I　want　him　dead；　the　traitor。　I　want　his　head；　you'll　bring　me　his　head；　or　you'll　burn　with　all　the　rest。　All　the　traitors。　Rossart　says　they　are　inside　the　walls！　He's　gone　to　make　them　a　warm　wele。　Whose　blood？　Whose？〃
　〃Rossart's；〃　answered　Jaime。
　Those　purple　eyes　grew　huge　then；　and　the　royal　mouth　drooped　open　in　shock。　He　lost　control　of　his　bowels；　turned；　and　ran　for　the　Iron　Throne。　Beneath　the　empty　eyes　of　the　skulls　on　the　walls；　Jaime　hauled　the　last　dragonking　bodily　off　the　steps；　squealing　like　a　pig　and　smelling　like　a　privy。　A　single　slash　across　his　throat　was　all　it　took　to　end　it。　So　easy；　he　remembered　thinking。　A　king　should　die　harder　than　this。　Rossart　at　least　had　tried　to　make　a　fight　of　it；　though　if　truth　be　told　he　fought　like　an　alchemist。　Queer　that　they　never　ask　who　killed　Rossart　。　。　。　but　of　course；　he　was　no　one；　lowborn；　Hand　for　a　fortnight；　just　another　mad　fancy　of　the　Mad　King。
　Ser　Elys　Westerling　and　Lord　Crakehall　and　others　of　his　father's　knights　burst　into　the　hall　in　time　to　see　the　last　of　it；　so　there　was　no　way　for　Jaime　to　vanish　and　let　some　braggart　steal　the　praise　or　blame。　It　would　be　blame；　he　knew　at　once　when　he　saw　the　way　they　looked　at　him　。　。　。　though　perhaps　that　was　fear。　Lannister　or　no；　he　was　one　of　Aerys's　seven。
　〃The　castle　is　ours；　ser；　and　the　city；〃　Roland　Crakehall　told　him；　which　was　half　true。　Targaryen　loyalists　were　still　dying　on　the　serpentine　steps　and　in　the　armory；　Gregor　Clegane　and　Amory　Lorch　were　scaling　the　walls　of　Maegor's　Holdfast；　and　Ned　Stark　was　leading　his　northmen　through　the　King's　Gate　even　then；　but　Crakehall　could　not　have　known　that。　He　had　not　seemed　surprised　to　find　Aerys　slain；　Jaime　had　been　Lord　Tywin's　son　long　before　he　had　been　named　to　the　Kingsguard。
　〃Tell　them　the　Mad　King　is　dead；〃　he　manded。　〃Spare　all　those　who　yield　and　hold　them　captive。〃
　〃Shall　I　proclaim　a　new　king　as　well？〃　Crakehall　asked；　and　Jaime　read　the　question　plain：　Shall　it　be　your　father；　or　Robert　Baratheon；　or　do　you　mean　to　try　to　make　a　new　dragonking？　He　thought　for　a　moment　of　the　boy　Viserys；　fled　to　Dragonstone；　and　of　Rhaegar's　infant　son　Aegon；　still　in　Maegor's　with　his　mother。　A　new　Targaryen　king；　and　my　father　as　Hand。　How　the　wolves　will　howl；　and　the　storm　lord　choke　with　rage。　For　a　moment　he　was　tempted；　until　he　glanced　down　again　at　the　body　on　the　floor；　in　its　spreading　pool　of　blood。　His　blood　is　in　both　of　them；　he　thought。　〃Proclaim　who　you　bloody　well　like；〃　he　told　Crakehall。　Then　he　climbed　the　Iron　Throne　and　seated　himself　with　his　sword　across　his　knees；　to　see　who　would　e　to　claim　the　kingdom。　As　it　happened；　it　had　been　Eddard　Stark。
　You　had　no　right　to　judge　me　either；　Stark。
　In　his　dreams　the　dead　came　burning；　gowned　in　swirling　green　flames。　Jaime　danced　around　them　with　a　golden　sword；　but　for　every　one　he　struck　down　two　more　arose　to　take　his　place。
　Brienne　woke　him　with　a　boot　in　the　ribs。　The　world　was　still　black；　and　it　had　begun　to　rain。　They　broke　their　fast　on　oatcakes；　salt　fish；　and　some　blackberries　that　Ser　Cleos　had　found；　and　were　back　in　the　saddle　before　the　sun　came　up。
　
　CHAPTER　12
　TYRION
　
　The　eunuch　was　humming　tunelessly　to　himself　as　he　came　through　the　door；　dressed　in　flowing　robes　of　peachcolored　silk　and　smelling　of　lemons。　When　he　saw　Tyrion　seated　by　the　hearth；　he　stopped　and　grew　very　still。　〃My　lord　Tyrion；〃　came　out　in　a　squeak；　punctuated　by　a　nervous　giggle。
　〃So　you　do　remember　me？　I　had　begun　to　wonder。〃
　〃It　is　so　very　good　to　see　you　looking　so　strong　and　well。〃　Varys　smiled　his　slimiest　smile。　〃Though　I　confess；　I　had　not　thought　to　find　you　in　mine　own　humble　chambers。〃
　〃They　are　humble。　Excessively　so；　in　truth。〃　Tyrion　had　waited　until　Varys　was　summoned　by　his　father　before　slipping　in　to　pay　him　a　visit。　The　eunuch's　apartments　were　sparse　and　small；　three　snug　windowless　chambers　under　the　north　wall。　〃I'd　hoped　to　discover　bushel　baskets　of　juicy　secrets　to　while　away　the　waiting；　but　there's　not　a　paper　to　be　found。〃　He'd　searched　for　hidden　passages　too；　knowing　the　Spider　must　have　ways　of　ing　and　going　unseen；　but　those　had　proved　equally　elusive。　〃There　was　water　in　your　flagon；　gods　have　mercy；〃　he　went　on；　/iyour　sleeping　cell　is　no　wider　than　a　coffin；　and　that　bed　。　。　。　is　it　actually　made　of　stone；　or　does　it　only　feel　that　way？〃
　Varys　closed　the　door　and　barred　it。　〃I　am　plagued　with　backaches；　my　lord；　and　prefer　to　sleep　upon　a　hard　surface。〃
　〃I　would　have　taken　you　for　a　featherbed　man。〃
　〃I　am　full　of　surprises。　Are　you　cross　with　me　for　abandoning　you　after　the　battle？〃
　〃It　made　me　think　of　you　as　one　of　my　family。〃
　〃It　was　not　for　want　of　love；　my　good　lord。　I　have　such　a　delicate　disposition；　and　your　scar　is　so　dreadful　to　look　upon　。　。　。〃　He　gave　an　exaggerated　shudder。　〃Your　poor　nose　。　。　。〃
　Tyrion　rubbed　irritably　at　the　scab。　〃Perhaps　I　should　have　a　new　one　made　of　gold。　What　sort　of　nose　would　you　suggest；　Varys？　One　like　yours；　to　smell　out　secrets？　Or　should　I　tell　the　goldsmith　that　I　want　my　father's　nose？〃　He　smiled。　〃My　noble　father　labors　so　diligently　that　I　scarce　see　him　anymore。　Tell　me；　is　it　true　that　he's　restoring　Grand　Maester　Pycelle　to　the　small　council？〃
　〃It　is；　my　lord。〃
　〃Do　I　have　my　sweet　sister　to　thank　for　that？〃　Pycelle　had　been　his　sister's　creature；　Tyrion　had　stripped　the　man　of　office；　beard；　and　dignity；　and　flung　him　down　into　a　black　cell。
　〃Not　at　all；　my　lord。　Thank　the　archmaesters　of　Oldtown；　those　who　wished　to　insist　on　Pycelle's　restoration　on　the　grounds　that　only　the　Conclave　may　make　or　unmake　a　Grand　Maester。〃
　Bloody　fools；　thought　Tyrion。　〃I　seem　to　recall　that　Maegor　the　Cruel's　headsman　unmade　three　with　his　axe。〃
　〃Quite　true；〃　Varys　said。　〃And　the　second　Aegon　fed　Grand　Maester　Gerardys　to　his　dragon。〃
　〃Alas；　I　am　quite　dragonless。　I　suppose　I　could　have　dipped　Pycelle　in　wildfire　and　set　him　ablaze。　Would　the　Citadel　have　preferred　that？〃
　〃Well；　it　would　have　been　more　in　keeping　with　tradition。〃　The　eunuch　tittered。　〃Thankfully；　wiser　heads　prevailed；　and　the　Conclave　accepted　the　fact　of　Pycelle's　dismissal　and　set　about　choosing　his　successor。　After　giving　due　consideration　to　Maester　Turquin　the　cordwainer's　son　and　Maester　Erreck　the　hedge　knight's　bastard；　and　thereby　demonstrating　to　their　own　satisfaction　that　ability　counts　for　more　than　birth　in　their　order；　the　Conclave　was　on　the　verge　of　sending　us　Maester　Gormon；　a　Tyrell　of　Highgarden。　When　I　told　your　lord　father；　he　acted　at　once。〃
　The　Conclave　met　in　Oldtown　behind　closed　doors；　Tyrion　knew；　its　deliberations　were　supposedly　a　secret。　So　Varys　has　little　birds　in　the　Citadel　too。　〃I　see。　So　my　father　decided　to　nip　the　rose　before　it　bloomed。〃　He　had　to　chuckle。　〃Pycelle　is　a　toad。　But　better　a　Lannister　toad　than　a　Tyrell　toad；　no？〃
　〃Grand　Maester　Pycelle　has　always　been　a　good　friend　to　your　House；〃　Varys　said　sweetly。　〃Perhaps　it　will　console　you　to　learn　that　Ser　Boros　Blount　is　also　being　restored。〃
　Cersei　had　stripped　Ser　Boros　of　his　white　cloak　for　failing　to　die　in　the　defense　of　Prince　Tornmen　when　Bronn　had　seized　the　boy　on　the　Rosby　road。　The　man　was　no　friend　of　Tyrion's；　but　after　that　he　likely　hated　Cersei　almost　as　much。　I　suppose　that's　something。　〃Blount　is　a　blustering　coward；〃　he　said　amiably。
　〃Is　he？　Oh　dear。　Still