A Feast for Crows. George R.r. Martin
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Название: A Feast for Crows
Автор: George R.r. Martin
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Морские приключения
Серия: A Song of Ice and Fire
isbn: 9780007369218
isbn:
Why did she feel like weeping? It was good that Nestor Royce was with them. “Were they all lies?”
“Not all. Lysa often called Lord Nestor a rock, though I do not think she meant it as a compliment. She called his son a clod. She knew Lord Nestor dreamed of holding the Gates in his own right, a lord in truth as well as name, but Lysa dreamed of other sons and meant the castle to go to Robert’s little brother.” He stood. “Do you understand what happened here, Alayne?”
Sansa hesitated a moment. “You gave Lord Nestor the Gates of the Moon to be certain of his support.”
“I did,” Petyr admitted, “but our rock is a Royce, which is to say he is overproud and prickly. Had I asked him his price, he would have swelled up like an angry toad at the slight upon his honor. But this way … the man is not utterly stupid, but the lies I served him were sweeter than the truth. He wants to believe that Lysa valued him above her other bannermen. One of those others is Bronze Yohn, after all, and Nestor is very much aware that he was born of the lesser branch of House Royce. He wants more for his son. Men of honor will do things for their children that they would never consider doing for themselves.”
She nodded. “The signature … you might have had Lord Robert put his hand and seal to it, but instead …”
“… I signed myself, as Lord Protector. Why?”
“So … if you are removed, or … or killed …”
“… Lord Nestor’s claim to the Gates will suddenly be called into question. I promise you, that is not lost on him. It was clever of you to see it. Though no more than I’d expect of mine own daughter.”
“Thank you.” She felt absurdly proud for puzzling it out, but confused as well. “I’m not, though. Your daughter. Not truly. I mean, I pretend to be Alayne, but you know …”
Littlefinger put a finger to her lips. “I know what I know, and so do you. Some things are best left unsaid, sweetling.”
“Even when we are alone?”
“Especially when we are alone. Elsewise a day will come when a servant walks into a room unannounced, or a guardsman at the door chances to hear something he should not. Do you want more blood on your pretty little hands, my darling?”
Marillion’s face seemed to float before her, the bandage pale across his eyes. Behind him she could see Ser Dontos, the crossbow bolts still in him. “No,” Sansa said. “Please.”
“I am tempted to say this is no game we play, daughter, but of course it is. The game of thrones.”
I never asked to play. The game was too dangerous. One slip and I am dead. “Oswell … my lord, Oswell rowed me from King’s Landing the night that I escaped. He must know who I am.”
“If he’s half as clever as a sheep pellet, you would think so. Ser Lothor knows as well. But Oswell has been in my service a long time, and Brune is close-mouthed by nature. Kettleblack watches Brune for me, and Brune watches Kettleblack. Trust no one, I once told Eddard Stark, but he would not listen. You are Alayne, and you must be Alayne all the time.” He put two fingers on her left breast. “Even here. In your heart. Can you do that? Can you be my daughter in your heart?”
“I …” I do not know, my lord, she almost said, but that was not what he wanted to hear. Lies and Arbor gold, she thought. “I am Alayne, Father. Who else would I be?”
Lord Littlefinger kissed her cheek. “With my wits and Cat’s beauty, the world will be yours, sweetling. Now off to bed.”
Gretchel had laid a fire in her hearth and plumped her featherbed. Sansa undressed and slipped beneath the blankets. He will not sing tonight, she prayed, not with Lord Nestor and the others in the castle. He would not dare. She closed her eyes.
Sometime during the night she woke, as little Robert climbed up into her bed. I forgot to tell Lothor to lock him in again, she realized. There was nothing to be done for it, so she put her arm around him. “Sweetrobin? You can stay, but try not to squirm around. Just close your eyes and sleep, little one.”
“I will.” He cuddled close and laid his head between her breasts. “Alayne? Are you my mother now?”
“I suppose I am,” she said. If a lie was kindly meant, there was no harm in it.
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