A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

away from the wall and stood in a half-crouch behind the bench, his sword held across his body.
    â€œYou think we won’t?” said Polliver. “You’re drunk.”
    â€œMight be,” said the Hound, “but you’re dead.” His foot lashed out and caught the bench, driving it hard into Polliver’s shins. Somehow the bearded man kept his feet, but the Hound ducked under his wild slash and brought his own sword up in a vicious backhand cut. Blood spattered on the ceiling and walls. The blade caught in the middle of Polliver’s face, and when the Hound wrenched it loose half his head came with it.
    The Tickler backed away. Arya could smell his fear. The shortsword in his hand suddenly seemed almost a toy against the long blade the Hound was holding, and he wasn’t armored either. He moved swiftly, light on his feet, never taking his eyes off Sandor Clegane. It was the easiest thing in the world for Arya to step up behind him and stab him.
    â€œIs there gold hidden in the village?” she shouted as she drove the blade up through his back. “Is there silver? Gems?” She stabbed twice more. “Is there food? Where is Lord Beric?” She was on top of him by then, still stabbing. “Where did he go? How many men were with him? How many knights? How many bowmen? How many, how many, how many, how many, how many, how many? Is there
gold
in the village?”
    Her hands were red and sticky when Sandor dragged her off him. “Enough,” was all he said. He was bleeding like a butchered pig himself, and dragging one leg when he walked.
    â€œThere’s one more,” Arya reminded him.
    The squire had pulled the knife out of his belly and was trying to stop the blood with his hands. When the Hound yanked him upright, he screamed and started to blubber like a baby. “Mercy,” he wept, “please. Don’t kill me. Mother have mercy.”
    â€œDo I look like your bloody mother?” The Hound looked like nothing human. “You killed this one too,” he told Arya. “Pricked him in his bowels, that’s the end of him. He’ll be a long time dying, though.”
    The boy didn’t seemed to hear him. “I came for the girls,” he whimpered. “. . . make me a man, Polly said . . . oh, gods, please, take me to a castle . . . a maester, take me to a maester, my father’s got gold . . . it was only for the girls . . . mercy, ser.”
    The Hound gave him a crack across the face that made him scream again. “Don’t call me ser.” He turned back to Arya. “This one is yours, she-wolf. You do it.”
    She knew what he meant. Arya went to Polliver and knelt in his blood long enough to undo his swordbelt. Hanging beside his dagger was a slimmer blade, too long to be a dirk, too short to be a man’s sword . . . but it felt just right in her hand.
    â€œYou remember where the heart is?” the Hound asked.
    She nodded. The squire rolled his eyes. “Mercy.”
    Needle slipped between his ribs and gave it to him.
    â€œGood.” Sandor’s voice was thick with pain. “If these three were whoring here, Gregor must hold the ford as well as Harrenhal. More of his pets could ride up any moment, and we’ve killed enough of the bloody buggers for one day.”
    â€œWhere will we go?” she asked.
    â€œSaltpans.” He put a big hand on her shoulder to keep from falling. “Get some wine, she-wolf. And take whatever coin they have as well, we’ll need it. If there’s ships at Saltpans, we can reach the Vale by sea.” His mouth twitched at her, as more blood ran down from where his ear had been. “Maybe Lady Lysa will marry you to her little Robert.
There’s
a match I’d like to see.” He started to laugh, then groaned instead.
    When the time came to leave, he needed Arya’s help to get back up on Stranger. He had tied a strip of cloth about his neck and another around his thigh, and taken the squire’s cloak off its peg by the door. The cloak was green, with a green arrow on a white bend, but when the Hound wadded it up and pressed it to his ear it soon turned red. Arya was afraid he would collapse the moment they set out, but somehow he stayed in the saddle.
    They could not risk meeting whoever held the ruby ford, so instead of following the kingsroad they angled south by east, through weedy fields, woods, and marshes. It was hours before