By George R. R. Martin
Dubbed “the American Tolkien” by way of Time magazine, George R. R. Martin has earned foreign popularity of his huge cycle of epic fable. Now the number 1 New York Times bestselling writer promises the 5th booklet in his spellbinding landmark series--as either frequent faces and incredible new forces vie for a foothold in a fragmented empire.
In the aftermath of a enormous conflict, the way forward for the Seven Kingdoms hangs within the stability as soon as again--beset by means of newly rising threats from each course. within the east, Daenerys Targaryen, the final scion of apartment Targaryen, principles along with her 3 dragons as queen of a urban equipped on airborne dirt and dust and demise. yet Daenerys has thrice 3 thousand enemies, and plenty of have got down to locate her. but, as they assemble, one younger guy embarks upon his personal quest for the queen, with a completely various target in mind.
To the north lies the great Wall of ice and stone--a constitution in basic terms as powerful as these guarding it. There, Jon Snow, 998th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, will face his maximum problem but. For he has strong foes not just in the Watch but in addition past, within the land of the creatures of ice.
And from all corners, sour conflicts quickly reignite, intimate betrayals are perpetrated, and a grand solid of outlaws and monks, squaddies and skinchangers, nobles and slaves, will face probably insurmountable stumbling blocks. a few will fail, others will develop within the energy of darkness. yet in a time of emerging restlessness, the tides of future and politics will lead unavoidably to the best dance of all. . . .
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Additional resources for A Dance with Dragons (A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 5)
His host put the mallet and chisel aside. “My house is yours. ” And any friend of Varys the Spider is someone I will trust just as far as I can throw him. The fat man made good on the promised bath, though. No sooner did Tyrion lower himself into the hot water and close his eyes than he was fast asleep. He woke naked on a goose-down feather bed so soft it felt as if he had been swallowed by a cloud. His tongue was growing hair and his throat was raw, but his cock was as hard as an iron bar. He rolled from the bed, found a chamber pot, and commenced to filling it, with a groan of pleasure.
He crawled into his bunk, clutching that thought like a child with a doll. Sleep had never come easily to Tyrion Lannister. Aboard that ship it seldom came at all, though from time to time he managed to drink sufficient wine to pass out for a while. At least he did not dream. He had dreamed enough for one small life. And of such follies: love, justice, friendship, glory. As well dream of being tall. It was all beyond his reach, Tyrion knew now. But he did not know where whores go. “Wherever whores go,” his father had said.
Sly gave a growl and bared her teeth, her ruff bristling. Not men. Not prey. Not these. The things below moved, but did not live. One by one, they raised their heads toward the three wolves on the hill. The last to look was the thing that had been Thistle. She wore wool and fur and leather, and over that she wore a coat of hoarfrost that crackled when she moved and glistened in the moonlight. Pale pink icicles hung from her fingertips, ten long knives of frozen blood. And in the pits where her eyes had been, a pale blue light was flickering, lending her coarse features an eerie beauty they had never known in life.