“No man except the sailors who stuffed me in that barrel, the cabin boy who cleaned up after me, the girl you sent to warm my bed, and that treacherous3 freckled4 washerwoman. Oh, and your guards. Unless you removed their wits along with their balls, they know you’re not alone in here.” The litter was suspended between eight mammoth5 draft horses on heavy leather straps6. Four eunuchs paced beside the horses, two to either side, and more were trudging7 along behind to guard the baggage train.
“Unsullied tell no tales,” Illyrio assured him. “And the galley8 that delivered you is on her way to Asshai even now. It will be two years before she returns, if the seas are kind. As for my household, they love me well. None would betray me.”
Cherish that thought, my fat friend. One day we will carve those words upon your crypt. “We should be aboard that galley,” the dwarf9 said. “The fastest way to Volantis is by sea.”
“The sea is hazardous,” replied Illyrio. “Autumn is a season rife10 with storms, and pirates still make their dens12 upon the Stepstones and venture forth13 to prey14 on honest men. It would never do for my little friend to fall into such hands.”
“There are pirates on the Rhoyne as well.”
“River pirates.” The cheesemonger gave a yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Cockroach captains scurrying15 after crumbs16.”
“One hears talk of stone men as well.”
“They are real enough, poor damned things. But why speak of such things? The day is too fine for such talk. We shall see the Rhoyne soon, and there you shall be rid of Illyrio and his big belly17. Till then, let us drink and dream. We have sweet wine and savories to enjoy. Why dwell upon disease and death?”
Why indeed? Tyrion heard the thrum of a crossbow once again, and wondered. The litter swayed side to side, a soothing18 movement that made him feel as if he were a child being rocked to sleep in his mother’s arms. Not that I would know what that was like. Silk pillows stuffed with goose down cushioned his cheeks. The purple velvet walls curved overhead to form a roof, making it pleasantly warm within despite the autumn chill outside.
A train of mules19 trailed behind them, carrying chests and casks and barrels, and hampers20 of delectables to keep the lord of cheese from growing peckish. They nibbled22 on spiced sausage that morning, washed down with a dark smokeberry brown. Jellied eels23 and Dornish reds filled their afternoon. Come evening there were sliced hams, boiled eggs, and roasted larks25 stuffed with garlic and onions, with pale ales and Myrish fire wines to help in their digestion26. The litter was as slow as it was comfortable, however, and the dwarf soon found himself itching27 with impatience28.
“How many days until we reach the river?” he asked Illyrio that evening. “At this pace, your queen’s dragons will be larger than Aegon’s three before I can lay eyes upon them.”
“Would it were so. A large dragon is more fearsome than a small one.” The magister shrugged29. “Much as it would please me to welcome Queen Daenerys to Volantis, I must rely on you and Griff for that. I can serve her best in Pentos, smoothing the way for her return. So long as I am with you, though … well, an old fat man must have his comforts, yes? Come, drink a cup of wine.”
“Tell me,” Tyrion said as he drank, “why should a magister of Pentos give three figs30 who wears the crown in Westeros? Where is the gain for you in this venture, my lord?”
The fat man dabbed31 grease from his lips. “I am an old man, grown weary of this world and its treacheries. Is it so strange that I should wish to do some good before my days are done, to help a sweet young girl regain32 her birthright?”
Next you will be offering me a suit of magic armor and a palace in Valyria. “If Daenerys is no more than a sweet young girl, the Iron Throne will cut her into sweet young pieces.”
“Fear not, my little friend. The blood of Aegon the Dragon flows in her veins33.”
Along with the blood of Aegon the Unworthy, Maegor the Cruel, and Baelor the Befuddled35. “Tell me more of her.”
The fat man grew pensive36. “Daenerys was half a child when she came to me, yet fairer even than my second wife, so lovely I was tempted37 to claim her for myself. Such a fearful, furtive38 thing, however, I knew I should get no joy from coupling with her. Instead I summoned a bedwarmer and fucked her vigorously until the madness passed. If truth be told, I did not think Daenerys would survive for long amongst the horselords.”
“That did not stop you selling her to Khal Drogo …”
“Dothraki neither buy nor sell. Say rather that her brother Viserys gave her to Drogo to win the khal’s friendship. A vain young man, and greedy. Viserys lusted39 for his father’s throne, but he lusted for Daenerys too, and was loath40 to give her up. The night before the princess wed41 he tried to steal into her bed, insisting that if he could not have her hand, he would claim her maidenhead. Had I not taken the precaution of posting guards upon her door, Viserys might have undone43 years of planning.”
“He sounds an utter fool.”
“Viserys was Mad Aerys’s son, just so. Daenerys … Daenerys is quite different.” He popped a roasted lark24 into his mouth and crunched45 it noisily, bones and all. “The frightened child who sheltered in my manse died on the Dothraki sea, and was reborn in blood and fire. This dragon queen who wears her name is a true Targaryen. When I sent ships to bring her home, she turned toward Slaver’s Bay. In a short span of days she conquered Astapor, made Yunkai bend the knee, and sacked Meereen. Mantarys will be next, if she marches west along the old Valyrian roads. If she comes by sea, well … her fleet must take on food and water at Volantis.”
“By land or by sea, there are long leagues between Meereen and Volantis,” Tyrion observed.
“Five hundred fifty, as the dragon flies, through deserts, mountains, swamps, and demon-haunted ruins. Many and more will perish, but those who survive will be stronger by the time they reach Volantis … where they shall find you and Griff awaiting them, with fresh forces and sufficient ships to carry them all across the sea to Westeros.”
Tyrion pondered all he knew of Volantis, oldest and proudest of the Nine Free Cities. Something was awry46 here. Even with half a nose, he could smell it. “It’s said there are five slaves for every free man in Volantis. Why would the triarchs assist a queen who smashed the slave trade?” He pointed47 at Illyrio. “For that matter, why would you? Slavery may be forbidden by the laws of Pentos, yet you have a finger in that trade as well, and maybe a whole hand. And yet you conspire48 for the dragon queen, and not against her. Why? What do you hope to gain from Queen Daenerys?”
“Are we back to that again? You are a persistent49 little man.” Illyrio gave a laugh and slapped his belly. “As you will. The Beggar King swore that I should be his master of coin, and a lordly lord as well. Once he wore his golden crown, I should have my choice of castles … even Casterly Rock, if I desired.”
Tyrion snorted wine back up the scarred stump50 that had been his nose. “My father would have loved to hear that.”
“Your lord father had no cause for concern. Why would I want a rock? My manse is large enough for any man, and more comfortable than your drafty Westerosi castles. Master of coin, though …” The fat man peeled another egg. “I am fond of coins. Is there any sound as sweet as the clink of gold on gold?”
A sister’s screams. “Are you quite certain that Daenerys will make good her brother’s promises?”
“She will, or she will not.” Illyrio bit the egg in half. “I told you, my little friend, not all that a man does is done for gain. Believe as you wish, but even fat old fools like me have friends, and debts of affection to repay.”
Liar51, thought Tyrion. There is something in this venture worth more to you than coin or castles. “You meet so few men who value friendship over gold these days.”
“Too true,” the fat man said, deaf to the irony52.
“How is it that the Spider became so dear to you?”
“We were young together, two green boys in Pentos.”
“Varys came from Myr.”
“So he did. I met him not long after he arrived, one step ahead of the slavers. By day he slept in the sewers53, by night he prowled the rooftops like a cat. I was near as poor, a bravo in soiled silks, living by my blade. Perhaps you chanced to glimpse the statue by my pool? Pytho Malanon carved that when I was six-and-ten. A lovely thing, though now I weep to see it.”
“Age makes ruins of us all. I am still in mourning for my nose. But Varys …”
“In Myr he was a prince of thieves, until a rival thief informed on him. In Pentos his accent marked him, and once he was known for a eunuch he was despised and beaten. Why he chose me to protect him I may never know, but we came to an arrangement. Varys spied on lesser54 thieves and took their takings. I offered my help to their victims, promising55 to recover their valuables for a fee. Soon every man who had suffered a loss knew to come to me, whilst city’s footpads and cutpurses sought out Varys … half to slit56 his throat, the other half to sell him what they’d stolen. We both grew rich, and richer still when Varys trained his mice.”
“In King’s Landing he kept little birds.”
“Mice, we called them then. The older thieves were fools who thought no further than turning a night’s plunder57 into wine. Varys preferred orphan58 boys and young girls. He chose the smallest, the ones who were quick and quiet, and taught them to climb walls and slip down chimneys. He taught them to read as well. We left the gold and gems59 for common thieves. Instead our mice stole letters, ledgers60, charts … later, they would read them and leave them where they lay. Secrets are worth more than silver or sapphires61, Varys claimed. Just so. I grew so respectable that a cousin of the Prince of Pentos let me wed his maiden42 daughter, whilst whispers of a certain eunuch’s talents crossed the narrow sea and reached the ears of a certain king. A very anxious king, who did not wholly trust his son, nor his wife, nor his Hand, a friend of his youth who had grown arrogant62 and overproud. I do believe that you know the rest of this tale, is that not so?”
“Much of it,” Tyrion admitted. “I see that you are somewhat more than a cheesemonger after all.”
Illyrio inclined his head. “You are kind to say so, my little friend. And for my part, I see that you are just as quick as Lord Varys claimed.” He smiled, showing all his crooked63 yellow teeth, and shouted for another jar of Myrish fire wine.
When the magister drifted off to sleep with the wine jar at his elbow, Tyrion crept across the pillows to work it loose from its fleshy prison and pour himself a cup. He drained it down, and yawned, and filled it once again. If I drink enough fire wine, he told himself, perhaps I’ll dream of dragons.
When he was still a lonely child in the depths of Casterly Rock, he oft rode dragons through the nights, pretending he was some lost Targaryen princeling, or a Valyrian dragonlord soaring high o’er fields and mountains. Once, when his uncles asked him what gift he wanted for his nameday, he begged them for a dragon. “It wouldn’t need to be a big one. It could be little, like I am.” His uncle Gerion thought that was the funniest thing he had ever heard, but his uncle Tygett said, “The last dragon died a century ago, lad.” That had seemed so monstrously65 unfair that the boy had cried himself to sleep that night.
Yet if the lord of cheese could be believed, the Mad King’s daughter had hatched three living dragons. Two more than even a Targaryen should require. Tyrion was almost sorry that he had killed his father. He would have enjoyed seeing Lord Tywin’s face when he learned that there was a Targaryen queen on her way to Westeros with three dragons, backed by a scheming eunuch and a cheesemonger half the size of Casterly Rock.
The dwarf was so stuffed that he had to undo44 his belt and the topmost laces on his breeches. The boy’s clothes his host had dressed him in made him feel like ten pounds of sausage in a five-pound skin. If we eat this way every day I will be the size of Illyrio before I meet this dragon queen. Outside the litter night had fallen. Inside all was dark. Tyrion listened to Illyrio’s snores, the creak of the leather straps, the slow clop clop of the team’s ironshod hooves on the hard Valyrian road, but his heart was listening for the beat of leathern wings.
When he woke, dawn had come. The horses plodded66 on, the litter creaking and swaying between them. Tyrion pulled the curtain back an inch to peer outside, but there was little to see but ochre fields, bare brown elms, and the road itself, a broad stone highway that ran straight as a spear to the horizon. He had read about Valyrian roads, but this was the first he had seen. The Freehold’s grasp had reached as far as Dragonstone, but never to the mainland of Westeros itself. Odd, that. Dragonstone is no more than a rock. The wealth was farther west, but they had dragons. Surely they knew that it was there.
He had drunk too much last night. His head was pounding, and even the gentle swaying of the litter was enough to make his gorge67 rise in his throat. Though he said no word of complaint, his distress68 must have been plain to Illyrio Mopatis. “Come, drink with me,” the fat man said. “A scale from the dragon that burned you, as they say.” He poured for them from a flagon of blackberry wine so sweet that it drew more flies than honey. Tyrion shooed them off with the back of his hand and drank deep. The taste was so cloying69 that it was all he could do to keep it down. The second cup went down easier, however. Even so, he had no appetite, and when Illyrio offered him a bowl of blackberries in cream he waved it off. “I dreamed about the queen,” he said. “I was on my knees before her, swearing my allegiance, but she mistook me for my brother, Jaime, and fed me to her dragons.”
“Let us hope this dream was not prophetic. You are a clever imp1, just as Varys said, and Daenerys will have need of clever men about her. Ser Barristan is a valiant70 knight71 and true; but none, I think, has ever called him cunning.”
“Knights72 know only one way to solve a problem. They couch their lances and charge. A dwarf has a different way of looking at the world. What of you, though? You are a clever man yourself.”
“You flatter me.” Illyrio waggled his hand. “Alas, I am not made for travel, so I will send you to Daenerys in my stead. You did Her Grace a great service when you slew73 your father, and it is my hope that you will do her many more. Daenerys is not the fool her brother was. She will make good use of you.”
As kindling74? Tyrion thought, smiling pleasantly.
They changed out teams only thrice that day but seemed to halt twice an hour at the least so Illyrio could climb down from the litter and have himself a piss. Our lord of cheese is the size of an elephant, but he has a bladder like a peanut, the dwarf mused75. During one stop, he used the time to have a closer look at the road. Tyrion knew what he would find: not packed earth, nor bricks, nor cobbles, but a ribbon of fused stone raised a half foot above the ground to allow rainfall and snowmelt to run off its shoulders. Unlike the muddy tracks that passed for roads in the Seven Kingdoms, the Valyrian roads were wide enough for three wagons76 to pass abreast77, and neither time nor traffic marred78 them. They still endured, unchanging, four centuries after Valyria itself had met its Doom79. He looked for ruts and cracks but found only a pile of warm dung deposited by one of the horses.
The dung made him think of his lord father. Are you down in some hell, Father? A nice cold hell where you can look up and see me help restore Mad Aerys’s daughter to the Iron Throne?
As they resumed their journey, Illyrio produced a bag of roasted chestnuts80 and began to speak once more of the dragon queen. “Our last news of Queen Daenerys is old and stale, I fear. By now she will have left Meereen, we must assume. She has her host at last, a ragged81 host of sellswords, Dothraki horselords, and Unsullied infantry82, and she will no doubt lead them west, to take back her father’s throne.” Magister Illyrio twisted open a pot of garlic snails84, sniffed85 at them, and smiled. “At Volantis, you will have fresh tidings of Daenerys, we must hope,” he said, as he sucked one from its shell. “Dragons and young girls are both capricious, and it may be that you will need to adjust your plans. Griff will know what to do. Will you have a snail83? The garlic is from my own gardens.”
I could ride a snail and make a better pace than this litter of yours. Tyrion waved the dish away. “You place a deal of trust in this man Griff. Another friend of your childhood?”
“No. A sellsword, you would call him, but Westerosi born. Daenerys needs men worthy34 of her cause.” Illyrio raised a hand. “I know! ‘Sellswords put gold before honor,’ you are thinking. ‘This man Griff will sell me to my sister.’ Not so. I trust Griff as I would trust a brother.”
Another mortal error. “Then I shall do likewise.”
“The Golden Company marches toward Volantis as we speak, there to await the coming of our queen out of the east.”
Beneath the gold, the bitter steel. “I had heard the Golden Company was under contract with one of the Free Cities.”
“Myr.” Illyrio smirked86. “Contracts can be broken.”
“There is more coin in cheese than I knew,” said Tyrion. “How did you accomplish that?”
The magister waggled his fat fingers. “Some contracts are writ87 in ink, and some in blood. I say no more.”
The dwarf pondered that. The Golden Company was reputedly the finest of the free companies, founded a century ago by Bittersteel, a bastard88 son of Aegon the Unworthy. When another of Aegon’s Great Bastards89 tried to seize the Iron Throne from his trueborn half-brother, Bittersteel joined the revolt. Daemon Blackfyre had perished on the Redgrass Field, however, and his rebellion with him. Those followers90 of the Black Dragon who survived the battle yet refused to bend the knee fled across the narrow sea, among them Daemon’s younger sons, Bittersteel, and hundreds of landless lords and knights who soon found themselves forced to sell their swords to eat. Some joined the Ragged Standard, some the Second Sons or Maiden’s Men. Bittersteel saw the strength of House Blackfyre scattering91 to the four winds, so he formed the Golden Company to bind92 the exiles together.
From that day to this, the men of the Golden Company had lived and died in the Disputed Lands, fighting for Myr or Lys or Tyrosh in their pointless little wars, and dreaming of the land their fathers had lost. They were exiles and sons of exiles, dispossessed and unforgiven … yet formidable fighters still.
“I admire your powers of persuasion,” Tyrion told Illyrio. “How did you convince the Golden Company to take up the cause of our sweet queen when they have spent so much of their history fighting against the Targaryens?”
Illyrio brushed away the objection as if it were a fly. “Black or red, a dragon is still a dragon. When Maelys the Monstrous64 died upon the Stepstones, it was the end of the male line of House Blackfyre.” The cheesemonger smiled through his forked beard. “And Daenerys will give the exiles what Bittersteel and the Blackfyres never could. She will take them home.”
With fire and sword. It was the kind of homecoming that Tyrion wished for as well. “Ten thousand swords makes for a princely gift, I grant you. Her Grace should be most pleased.”
The magister gave a modest bob of his head, chins jiggling. “I would never presume to say what might please Her Grace.”
Prudent93 of you. Tyrion knew much and more about the gratitude94 of kings. Why should queens be any different?
Soon enough the magister was fast asleep, leaving Tyrion to brood alone. He wondered what Barristan Selmy would think of riding into battle with the Golden Company. During the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Selmy had cut a bloody95 path through their ranks to slay96 the last of the Blackfyre Pretenders. Rebellion makes for queer bedfellows. And none more queer than this fat man and me.
The cheesemonger woke when they stopped to change the horses and sent for a fresh hamper21. “How far have we come?” the dwarf asked him as they stuffed themselves with cold capon and a relish97 made of carrots, raisins98, and bits of lime and orange.
“This is Andalos, my friend. The land your Andals came from. They took it from the hairy men who were here before them, cousins to the hairy men of Ib. The heart of Hugor’s ancient realm lies north of us, but we are passing through its southern marches. In Pentos, these are called the Flatlands. Farther east stand the Velvet Hills, whence we are bound.”
Andalos. The Faith taught that the Seven themselves had once walked the hills of Andalos in human form. “The Father reached his hand into the heavens and pulled down seven stars,” Tyrion recited from memory, “and one by one he set them on the brow of Hugor of the Hill to make a glowing crown.”
Magister Illyrio gave him a curious look. “I did not dream my little friend was so devout99.”
The dwarf shrugged. “A relic100 of my boyhood. I knew I would not make a knight, so I decided101 to be High Septon. That crystal crown adds a foot to a man’s height. I studied the holy books and prayed until I had scabs on both my knees, but my quest came to a tragic102 end. I reached that certain age and fell in love.”
“A maiden? I know the way of that.” Illyrio thrust his right hand up his left sleeve and drew out a silver locket. Inside was a painted likeness103 of a woman with big blue eyes and pale golden hair streaked104 by silver. “Serra. I found her in a Lysene pillow house and brought her home to warm my bed, but in the end I wed her. Me, whose first wife had been a cousin of the Prince of Pentos. The palace gates were closed to me thereafter, but I did not care. The price was small enough, for Serra.”
“How did she die?” Tyrion knew that she was dead; no man spoke105 so fondly of a woman who had abandoned him.
“A Braavosi trading galley called at Pentos on her way back from the Jade106 Sea. The Treasure carried cloves107 and saffron, jet and jade, scarlet108 samite, green silk … and the grey death. We slew her oarsmen as they came ashore110 and burned the ship at anchor, but the rats crept down the oars109 and paddled to the quay111 on cold stone feet. The plague took two thousand before it ran its course.” Magister Illyrio closed the locket. “I keep her hands in my bedchamber. Her hands that were so soft …”
Tyrion thought of Tysha. He glanced out at the fields where once the gods had walked. “What sort of gods make rats and plagues and dwarfs112?” Another passage from The Seven-Pointed Star came back to him. “The Maid brought him forth a girl as supple113 as a willow114 with eyes like deep blue pools, and Hugor declared that he would have her for his bride. So the Mother made her fertile, and the Crone foretold115 that she would bear the king four-and-forty mighty116 sons. The Warrior117 gave strength to their arms, whilst the Smith wrought118 for each a suit of iron plates.”
“Your Smith must have been Rhoynish,” Illyrio quipped. “The Andals learned the art of working iron from the Rhoynar who dwelt along the river. This is known.”
“Not by our septons.” Tyrion gestured at the fields. “Who dwells in these Flatlands of yours?”
“Tillers and toilers, bound to the land. There are orchards119, farms, mines … I own some such myself, though I seldom visit them. Why should I spend my days out here, with the myriad120 delights of Pentos close at hand?”
“Myriad delights.” And huge thick walls. Tyrion swirled121 his wine in his cup. “We have seen no towns since Pentos.”
“There are ruins.” Illyrio waved a chicken leg toward the curtains. “The horselords come this way, whenever some khal takes it into his head to gaze upon the sea. The Dothraki are not fond of towns, you will know this even in Westeros.”
“Fall upon one of these khalasars and destroy it, and you may find that the Dothraki are not so quick to cross the Rhoyne.”
“It is cheaper to buy off foes122 with food and gifts.”
If only I had thought to bring a nice cheese to the battle on the Blackwater, I might still have all my nose. Lord Tywin had always held the Free Cities in contempt. They fight with coins instead of swords, he used to say. Gold has its uses, but wars are won with iron. “Give gold to a foe123 and he will just come back for more, my father always said.”
“Is this the selfsame father that you murdered?” Illyrio tossed his chicken bone from the litter. “Sellswords will not stand against Dothraki screamers. That was proved at Qohor.”
“Not even your brave Griff?” mocked Tyrion.
“Griff is different. He has a son he dotes on. Young Griff, the boy is called. There never was a nobler lad.”
The wine, the food, the sun, the sway of the litter, the buzzing of the flies, all conspired124 to make Tyrion sleepy. So he slept, woke, drank. Illyrio matched him cup for cup. And as the sky turned a dusky purple, the fat man began to snore.
That night Tyrion Lannister dreamed of a battle that turned the hills of Westeros as red as blood. He was in the midst of it, dealing125 death with an axe126 as big as he was, fighting side by side with Barristan the Bold and Bittersteel as dragons wheeled across the sky above them. In the dream he had two heads, both noseless. His father led the enemy, so he slew him once again. Then he killed his brother, Jaime, hacking127 at his face until it was a red ruin, laughing every time he struck a blow. Only when the fight was finished did he realize that his second head was weeping.
When he woke his stunted128 legs were stiff as iron. Illyrio was eating olives. “Where are we?” Tyrion asked him.
“We have not yet left the Flatlands, my hasty friend. Soon our road shall pass into the Velvet Hills. There we begin our climb toward Ghoyan Drohe, upon the Little Rhoyne.”
Ghoyan Drohe had been a Rhoynar city, until the dragons of Valyria had reduced it to a smoldering129 desolation. I am traveling through years as well as leagues, Tyrion reflected, back through history to the days when dragons ruled the earth.
Tyrion slept and woke and slept again, and day and night seemed not to matter. The Velvet Hills proved a disappointment. “Half the whores in Lannisport have breasts bigger than these hills,” he told Illyrio. “You ought to call them the Velvet Teats.” They saw a circle of standing130 stones that Illyrio claimed had been raised by giants, and later a deep lake. “Here lived a den11 of robbers who preyed131 on all who passed this way,” Illyrio said. “It is said they still dwell beneath the water. Those who fish the lake are pulled under and devoured132.” The next evening they came upon a huge Valyrian sphinx crouched133 beside the road. It had a dragon’s body and a woman’s face.
“A dragon queen,” said Tyrion. “A pleasant omen134.”
“Her king is missing.” Illyrio pointed out the smooth stone plinth on which the second sphinx once stood, now grown over with moss135 and flowering vines. “The horselords built wooden wheels beneath him and dragged him back to Vaes Dothrak.”
That is an omen too, thought Tyrion, but not as hopeful.
That night, drunker than usual, he broke into sudden song.
He rode through the streets of the city,
down from his hill on high,
O’er the wynds and the steps and the cobbles,
he rode to a woman’s sigh.
For she was his secret treasure,
she was his shame and his bliss136.
And a chain and a keep are nothing,
compared to a woman’s kiss.
Those were all the words he knew, aside from the refrain. Hands of gold are always cold, but a woman’s hands are warm. Shae’s hands had beat at him as the golden hands dug into her throat. He did not remember if they’d been warm or not. As the strength went out of her, her blows became moths137 fluttering about his face. Each time he gave the chain another twist the golden hands dug deeper. A chain and a keep are nothing, compared to a woman’s kiss. Had he kissed her one last time, after she was dead? He could not remember … though he still recalled the first time they had kissed, in his tent beside the Green Fork. How sweet her mouth had tasted.
He remembered the first time with Tysha as well. She did not know how, no more than I did. We kept bumping our noses, but when I touched her tongue with mine she trembled. Tyrion closed his eyes to bring her face to mind, but instead he saw his father, squatting138 on a privy139 with his bedrobe hiked up about his waist. “Wherever whores go,” Lord Tywin said, and the crossbow thrummed.
The dwarf rolled over, pressing half a nose deep into the silken pillows. Sleep opened beneath him like a well, and he threw himself into it with a will and let the darkness eat him up.
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imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mammoth
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| n.长毛象；adj.长毛象似的，巨大的 | |
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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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10
rife
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| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
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11
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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12
dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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13
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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14
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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15
scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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16
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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17
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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18
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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19
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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20
hampers
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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21
hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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22
nibbled
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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23
eels
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| abbr. 电子发射器定位系统（=electronic emitter location system） | |
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24
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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25
larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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26
digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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27
itching
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| adj.贪得的，痒的，渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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28
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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29
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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30
figs
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| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
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31
dabbed
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| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
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32
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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33
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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34
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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35
befuddled
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| adj.迷糊的，糊涂的v.使烂醉( befuddle的过去式和过去分词 )；使迷惑不解 | |
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36
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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37
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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38
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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39
lusted
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| 贪求（lust的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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40
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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41
wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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42
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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43
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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44
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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45
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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46
awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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47
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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48
conspire
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| v.密谋，（事件等）巧合，共同导致 | |
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49
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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50
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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51
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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52
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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53
sewers
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| n.阴沟，污水管，下水道( sewer的名词复数 ) | |
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54
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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55
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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56
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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57
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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58
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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59
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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60
ledgers
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| n.分类账( ledger的名词复数 ) | |
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61
sapphires
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| n.蓝宝石，钢玉宝石( sapphire的名词复数 )；蔚蓝色 | |
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62
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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63
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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64
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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65
monstrously
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66
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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67
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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68
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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69
cloying
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| adj.甜得发腻的 | |
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70
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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71
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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72
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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73
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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74
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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75
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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76
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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77
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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78
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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79
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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80
chestnuts
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| n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 )；栗色；栗树；栗色马 | |
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81
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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82
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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83
snail
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| n.蜗牛 | |
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84
snails
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| n.蜗牛；迟钝的人；蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
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85
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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86
smirked
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| v.傻笑( smirk的过去分词 ) | |
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87
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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88
bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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89
bastards
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| 私生子( bastard的名词复数 )； 坏蛋； 讨厌的事物； 麻烦事 （认为别人走运或不幸时说）家伙 | |
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90
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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91
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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92
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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93
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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94
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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95
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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96
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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97
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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98
raisins
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| n.葡萄干( raisin的名词复数 ) | |
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99
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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100
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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101
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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102
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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103
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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104
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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105
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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106
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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107
cloves
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| n.丁香（热带树木的干花，形似小钉子，用作调味品，尤用作甜食的香料）( clove的名词复数 )；蒜瓣(a garlic ~|a ~of garlic) | |
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108
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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109
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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110
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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111
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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112
dwarfs
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| n.侏儒，矮子（dwarf的复数形式）vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的第三人称单数形式） | |
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113
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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114
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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115
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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117
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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118
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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119
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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120
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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121
swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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123
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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124
conspired
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| 密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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125
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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126
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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127
hacking
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| n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
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128
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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129
smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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130
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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131
preyed
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| v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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132
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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133
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134
omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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135
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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136
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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137
moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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138
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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139
privy
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| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
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