pieces, but for her precious vow, he reflected. Good. I’ve had enough of feeble pieties

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The old woman called to Butterbumps. “Fool! Give us a song. A long one, I should

Lord Frey had the boy’s head hacked off, sewed the head of his direwolf in its place, and

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gifts . . . swords and ponies and fur-trimmed cloaks. The eunuch’s work, every one. The

ridden in Drogo’s khalasar. She put the oldest and weakest on the inside of the column,

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been different. And three died within the year, and the fourth went mad, and a hundred