<abstract>Disclaimer: these are notes I took while reading this book. They include citations I found interesting or enlightening or particularly well-written. In some cases, I've pointed out which of these applies to which citation; in others, I have not. Any benefit you gain from reading these notes is purely incidental to the purpose they serve of reminding me what I once read. Please see Wikipedia for a summary if I've failed to provide one sufficient for your purposes. If my notes serve to trigger an interest in this book, then I'm happy for you.</abstract> This is book five of the <i>Song of Ice and Fire</i>. Bran ends up in the lair of the Children of the Forest, far North of the Wall, with the three-eyed raven. Jon's fate is unknown, but things don't look too good. Arya's training continues. Tyrion is captured by Mormont and both of them near Meerreen. Quentyn's mission fails horribly, Victarion approaches Meereen, possessed of powers. Daenerys accepts her destiny and mounts Drogon. Stannis marches on the marshes first, rousts the Ironborn, captures Asha and then sinks into the snows before he can arrive at Winterfell, where he wants to roust the Boltons. Young Aegon Targaryen and John Connington land in Dorne and make their way north to attempt recapture of the Iron Throne. Cersei takes the walk of shame. <h>Citations</h> Some of the characters are almost shockingly small-minded. Daenarys bears unhealable grudges against traitors who betrayed her family decades or even centuries ago. And in the next passage, Davos's fealty to Stannis is so strong that he thinks the following of his old friend Salladhor Saan, <bq caption="Page 138">I knew the day would come, Davos told himself. I was fond of the old rogue, but never so great a fool as to trust him.</bq> He should just as well think this of Stannis, who is at least as deluded, terrifying and cruel as anyone else in the book. He does nothing for himself, but for what he calls justice. This next passage serves to illustrate just how good a writer Martin is, how deliciously he brings you into the moment. Here we see Reek in his dark cell, snacking at long last. <bq caption="Page 176">The rat squealed as he bit into it, squirming wildly in his hands, frantic to escape. The belly was the softest part. He tore at the sweet meat, the warm blood running over his lips. It was so good that it brought tears to his eyes. His belly rumbled and he swallowed. By the third bite the rat had ceased to struggle, and he was feeling almost content. [...] He crouched down in a corner of his cell, clutching his prize under his chin. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth as he nibbled at the rat with what remained of his teeth, trying to bolt down as much of the warm flesh as he could before the cell was opened. The meat was stringy, but so rich he thought he might be sick. He chewed and swallowed, picking small bones from the holes in his gums where teeth had been yanked out. It hurt to chew, but he was so hungry he could not stop.</bq> As good as some of the descriptions are, he is equally adept at dialogue. Here he mixes thoughts (in italics) with spoken words to create a full picture of the conversation from the point of view of Daenerys. <bq quote-style="none" caption="Page 225">She was no stranger to the overblown courtesies of Qarth. “If you are drunk, blame the wine.” “No wine is half so intoxicating as your beauty. My manse has seemed as empty as a tomb since Daenerys departed, and all the pleasures of the Queen of Cities have been as ashes in my mouth. Why did you abandon me?” <i>I was hounded from your city in fear for my life.</i> “It was time. Qarth wished me gone.” “Who? The Pureborn? They have water in their veins. The Spicers? There are curds between their ears. And the Undying are all dead. You should have taken me to husband. I am almost certain that I asked you for your hand. Begged you, even.” “Only half a hundred times,” Dany teased. “You gave up too easily, my lord. For I must marry, all agree.” “A <i>khaleesi</i> must have a khal,” said Irri, as she filled the queen’s cup once again. “This is known.” “Shall I ask again?” wondered Xaro. “No, I know that smile. It is a cruel queen who dices with men’s hearts. Humble merchants like myself are no more than stones beneath your jeweled sandals.” A single tear ran slowly down his pale white cheek.</bq> <bq caption="Page 226--227" quote-style="none">"[...]Do you know how Unsullied are made and trained?” “Cruelly, I have no doubt. When a smith makes a sword, he thrusts the blade into the fire, beats on it with a hammer, then plunges it into iced water to temper the steel. If you would savor the sweet taste of the fruit, you must water the tree.” “This tree has been watered with blood.” “How else, to grow a soldier? Your Radiance enjoyed my dancers. Would it surprise you to know that they are slaves, bred and trained in Yunkai? They have been dancing since they were old enough to walk. How else to achieve such perfection?” He took a swallow of his wine. “They are expert in all the erotic arts as well. I had thought to make Your Grace a gift of them.” “By all means.” Dany was unsurprised. “I shall free them.” That made him wince. “And what would they do with freedom? As well give a fish a suit of mail. They were made to dance.” “Made by who? Their masters? Perhaps your dancers would sooner build or bake or farm. Have you asked them?” “Perhaps your elephants would sooner be nightingales. Instead of sweet song, Meereen’s nights would be filled with thunderous trumpetings, and your trees would shatter beneath the weight of great grey birds.” Xaro sighed. “Daenerys, my delight, beneath that sweet young breast beats a tender heart … but take counsel from an older, wiser head. Things are not always as they seem. Much that may seem evil can be good. [...]” [...] the Queen of Cities rests upon the backs of slaves. Ask yourself, if all men must grub in the dirt for food, how shall any man lift his eyes to contemplate the stars? If each of us must break his back to build a hovel, who shall raise the temples to glorify the gods? For some men to be great, others must be enslaved.”</bq> <bq caption="Page 258">A wooden keep could be seen beside the water, rotted and overgrown. Slender spires took form above it, some of them snapped off like broken spears. Roofless towers appeared and disappeared, thrusting blindly upward. Halls and galleries drifted past: graceful buttresses, delicate arches, fluted columns, terraces and bowers. All ruined, all desolate, all fallen. The grey moss grew thickly here, covering the fallen stones in great mounds and bearding all the towers. Black vines crept in and out of windows, through doors and over archways, up the sides of high stone walls.</bq> Brutal: <bq caption="Page 430">From time to time some wench escapes and lives to tell the tale. Most are less fortunate. When Ramsay catches them he rapes them, flays them, feeds their corpses to his dogs, and brings their skins back to the Dreadfort as trophies. If they have given him good sport, he slits their throats before he skins them. Elsewise, t’other way around.”</bq> Is this a deliberate pun? <bq caption="Page 442">Brown Ben Plumm was puzzled. “Who is Eroeh?” “A girl I thought I’d saved from rape and torment. All I did was make it worse for her in the end. And all I did in Astapor was make ten thousand Eroehs.”</bq> <bq caption="Page 489">Tyrion had never seen a bigger moon. Monstrous, swollen, it looked as if it had swallowed the sun and woken with a fever. Its twin, floating on the sea beyond the ship, shimmered red with every wave.</bq> This is exactly how people accustomed to snow talk to those unaccustomed. The following was uttered after it had only been snowing for a week and a half straight and a mere six or seven feet of snow lay on the ground. <bq caption="Page 615">Ned’s girl,” echoed Big Bucket Wull. “And we should have had her and the castle both if you prancing southron jackanapes didn’t piss your satin breeches at a little snow.</bq> More northern bravado: <bq>That seemed to amuse the northman. “I want to live forever in a land where summer lasts a thousand years. I want a castle in the clouds where I can look down over the world. I want to be six-and-twenty again. When I was six-and-twenty I could fight all day and fuck all night. What men want does not matter. “Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue.”</bq> And, then, from even farther north, is Tormund Giantsbane, another wonderful talker. <bq caption="Page 847">Half-brothers, born o’ different mothers. Alfyn’s member was a wee thing, <b>even smaller than yours</b>, but he was never shy with where he stuck it. Had a son in every village, that one. (Emphasis added.)</bq> And then, <bq caption="Page 849">The wildling gave him a shrewd look. “Aye, I might have. And you crows might decide to close that gate. A few fighters on t’other side, well, that way the gate stays open, don’t it?” He grinned. <b>“I bought your bloody horse, Jon Snow. Don’t mean that we can’t count his teeth.</b> Now don’t you go thinking me and mine don’t trust you. We trust you just as much as you trust us.” He snorted. (Emphasis added.)</bq> And finally, <bq>I know,” said Jon Snow. Tormund turned back. “You know nothing. You killed a dead man, aye, I heard. Mance killed a hundred. A man can fight the dead, but when their masters come, when the white mists rise up … how do you fight a mist, crow? Shadows with teeth … air so cold it hurts to breathe, like a knife inside your chest … you do not know, you cannot know … can your sword cut cold?</bq>