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- Джордж Мартин
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The
chain
.
Gods
save
us
,
they
’
ve
raised
the
chain
.
Where
the
river
broadened
out
into
Blackwater
Bay
,
the
boom
stretched
taut
,
a
bare
two
or
three
feet
above
the
water
.
Already
a
dozen
galleys
had
crashed
into
it
,
and
the
current
was
pushing
others
against
them
.
Almost
all
were
aflame
,
and
the
rest
soon
would
be
.
Davos
could
make
out
the
striped
hulls
of
Salladhor
Saan
’
s
ships
beyond
,
but
he
knew
he
would
never
reach
them
.
A
wall
of
red
-
hot
steel
,
blazing
wood
,
and
swirling
green
flame
stretched
before
him
.
The
mouth
of
the
Blackwater
Rush
had
turned
into
the
mouth
of
hell
.
Motionless
as
a
gargoyle
,
Tyrion
Lannister
hunched
on
one
knee
atop
a
merlon
.
Beyond
the
Mud
Gate
and
the
desolation
that
had
once
been
the
fishmarket
and
wharves
,
the
river
itself
seemed
to
have
taken
fire
.
Half
of
Stannis
’
s
fleet
was
ablaze
,
along
with
most
of
Joffrey
’
s
.
The
kiss
of
wildfire
turned
proud
ships
into
funeral
pyres
and
men
into
living
torches
.
The
air
was
full
of
smoke
and
arrows
and
screams
.
Downstream
,
commoners
and
highborn
captains
alike
could
see
the
hot
green
death
swirling
toward
their
rafts
and
carracks
and
ferries
,
borne
on
the
current
of
the
Blackwater
.
The
long
white
oars
of
the
Myrish
galleys
flashed
like
the
legs
of
maddened
centipedes
as
they
fought
to
come
about
,
but
it
was
no
good
.
The
centipedes
had
no
place
to
run
.
A
dozen
great
fires
raged
under
the
city
walls
,
where
casks
of
burning
pitch
had
exploded
,
but
the
wildfire
reduced
them
to
no
more
than
candles
in
a
burning
house
,
their
orange
and
scarlet
pennons
fluttering
insignificantly
against
the
jade
holocaust
.
The
low
clouds
caught
the
color
of
the
burning
river
and
roofed
the
sky
in
shades
of
shifting
green
,
eerily
beautiful
.
A
terrible
beauty
.
Like
dragonfire
.
Tyrion
wondered
if
Aegon
the
Conqueror
had
felt
like
this
as
he
flew
above
his
Field
of
Fire
.
The
furnace
wind
lifted
his
crimson
cloak
and
beat
at
his
bare
face
,
yet
he
could
not
turn
away
.
He
was
dimly
aware
of
the
gold
cloaks
cheering
from
the
hoardings
.
He
had
no
voice
to
join
them
.
It
was
a
half
victory
.
It
will
not
be
enough
.
He
saw
another
of
the
hulks
he
’
d
stuffed
full
of
King
Aerys
’
s
fickle
fruits
engulfed
by
the
hungry
flames
.
A
fountain
of
burning
jade
rose
from
the
river
,
the
blast
so
bright
he
had
to
shield
his
eyes
.
Plumes
of
fire
thirty
and
forty
feet
high
danced
upon
the
waters
,
crackling
and
hissing
.
For
a
few
moments
they
washed
out
the
screams
.
There
were
hundreds
in
the
water
,
drowning
or
burning
or
doing
a
little
of
both
.
Do
you
hear
them
shrieking
,
Stannis
?
Do
you
see
them
burning
?
This
is
your
work
as
much
as
mine
.
Somewhere
in
that
seething
mass
of
men
south
of
the
Blackwater
,
Stannis
was
watching
too
,
Tyrion
knew
.
He
’
d
never
had
his
brother
Robert
’
s
thirst
for
battle
.
He
would
command
from
the
rear
,
from
the
reserve
,
much
as
Lord
Tywin
Lannister
was
wont
to
do
.
Like
as
not
,
he
was
sitting
a
warhorse
right
now
,
clad
in
bright
armor
,
his
crown
upon
his
head
.
A
crown
of
red
gold
,
Varys
says
,
its
points
fashioned
in
the
shapes
of
flames
.
"
My
ships
.
"
Joffrey
’
s
voice
cracked
as
he
shouted
up
from
the
wallwalk
,
where
he
huddled
with
his
guards
behind
the
ramparts
.
The
golden
circlet
of
kingship
adorned
his
battle
helm
.
"
My
Kingslander
’
s
burning
,
Queen
Cersei
,
Loyal
Man
.
Look
,
that
’
s
Seaflower
,
there
.
"
He
pointed
with
his
new
sword
,
out
to
where
the
green
flames
were
licking
at
Seaflower
’
s
golden
hull
and
creeping
up
her
oars
.
Her
captain
had
turned
her
upriver
,
but
not
quickly
enough
to
evade
the
wildfire
.
She
was
doomed
,
Tyrion
knew
.
There
was
no
other
way
.
