A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

to my readers, for all their kind and supportive e-mails, and for their patience. A special tip of the helm to Lodey of the Three Fists, Pod the Devil Bunny, Trebla and Daj the Trivial Kings, sweet Caress of the Wall, Lannister the Squirrel Slayer, and the rest of the Brotherhood Without Banners, that half-mad drunken fellowship of brave knights and lovely ladies who throw the best parties at worldcon, year after year after year. And let me sound a fanfare too for Elio and Linda, who seem to know the Seven Kingdoms better than I do, and help me keep my continuity straight. Their Westeros website and concordance is a joy and a wonder.
    And thanks to Walter Jon Williams for guiding me across more salty seas, to Sage Walker for leeches and fevers and broken bones, to Pati Nagle for HTML and spinning shields and getting all my news up quickly, and to Melinda Snodgrass and Daniel Abraham for service that was truly above and beyond the call of duty. I get by with a little help from my friends.
    No words could suffice for Parris, who has been there on the good days and the bad ones for every bloody page. All that needs be said is that I could not sing this Song without her.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
    GEORGE R. R. MARTIN sold his first story in 1971 and has been writing professionally since then. He spent ten years in Hollywood as a writer-producer, working on
The Twilight Zone
,
Beauty and the Beast
, and various feature films and television pilots that were never made. In the mid ’90s he returned to prose, his first love, and began work on his epic fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire. He has been in the Seven Kingdoms ever since. Whenever he’s allowed to leave, he returns to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where he lives with the lovely Parris, a big white dog called Mischa, and two cats named Augustus and Caligula, who think they run the place.

ALSO BY GEORGE R. R. MARTIN
    A S ONG OF I CE AND F IRE
    Book One:
A Game of Thrones
    Book Two:
A Clash of Kings
    Book Three:
A Storm of Swords
    Dying of the Light
    Windhaven
(with Lisa Tuttle)
    Fevre Dream
    The Armageddon Rag
    Dead Man’s Hand
(with John J. Miller)
    S HORT S TORY C OLLECTIONS
    A Song of Lya and Others
    Songs of Stars and Shadows
    Sandkings
    Songs the Dead Men Sing
    Nightflyers
    Tuf Voyaging
    Portraits of His Children
    E DITED BY G EORGE R. R. M ARTIN
    New Voices in Science Fiction, Volumes 1–4
    The Science Fiction Weight-Loss Book
(with Isaac Asimov
and Martin Harry Greenberg)
    The John W. Campbell Awards, Volume 5
    Night Visions 3
    Wild Card I–XV

And coming soon
    A D ANCE

WITH

D RAGONS
    BY

G EORGE R. R. M ARTIN
    The epic continuation of his landmark series
    A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE
    Here’s a special preview:

DAENERYS
    S he could hear the dead man coming up the steps. The slow, measured sound of footsteps went before him, echoing amongst the purple pillars of her hall. Daenerys Targaryen awaited him upon the ebon bench that she had made her throne. Her eyes were soft with sleep, her silver-gold hair all tousled.
    â€œYour Grace,” said Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of her Queensguard, “there is no need for you to see this.”
    â€œHe died for me.” Dany clutched her lion pelt to her chest. Underneath, a sheer white linen tunic covered her to mid-thigh. She had been dreaming of a house with a red door when Missandei woke her. There had been no time to dress.
    â€œKhaleesi,”
whispered Irri, “you must not touch the dead man. It is bad luck to touch the dead.”
    â€œUnless you killed them yourself.” Jhiqui was bigger-boned than Irri, with wide hips and heavy breasts. “That is known.”
    â€œIt is known,” Irri agreed.
    Dany paid no heed. Dothraki were wise where horses were concerned, but could be utter fools about much else.
They are only girls, besides.
Her handmaids were of an age with her; women grown to look at them, with their black hair, copper skin, and almond-shaped eyes, but children all the same. Khal Drogo had given them to her, who was her sun-and-stars. Drogo had given her the pelt too, the head and hide of a
hrakkar,
the white lion of the Dothraki sea. It was too big for her and had a musty smell, but it made her feel as if Drogo were still near her.
    Grey Worm appeared atop the steps first, a torch in hand. His bronze cap was crested with three spikes. Behind him followed four of his Unsullied, bearing the dead man on their shoulders. Their caps had only one spike,