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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 123/853
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"
Without
question
?
No
.
"
The
sellsword
rubbed
thumb
and
forefinger
together
.
"
I
’
d
ask
how
much
.
"
And
why
would
I
ever
need
your
Allar
Deem
,
Lord
Slynt
?
Tyrion
thought
.
I
have
a
hundred
of
my
own
.
He
wanted
to
laugh
;
he
wanted
to
weep
;
most
of
all
,
he
wanted
Shae
.
The
road
was
little
more
than
two
ruts
through
the
weeds
.
The
good
part
was
,
with
so
little
traffic
there
’
d
be
no
one
to
point
the
finger
and
say
which
way
they
’
d
gone
.
The
human
flood
that
had
flowed
down
the
kingsroad
was
only
a
trickle
here
.
The
bad
part
was
,
the
road
wound
back
and
forth
like
a
snake
,
tangling
with
even
smaller
trails
and
sometimes
seeming
to
vanish
entirely
only
to
reappear
half
a
league
farther
on
when
they
had
all
but
given
up
hope
.
Arya
hated
it
.
The
land
was
gentle
enough
,
rolling
hills
and
terraced
fields
interspersed
with
meadows
and
woodlands
and
little
valleys
where
willows
crowded
close
to
slow
shallow
streams
.
Even
so
,
the
path
was
so
narrow
and
crooked
that
their
pace
had
dropped
to
a
crawl
.
It
was
the
wagons
that
slowed
them
,
lumbering
along
,
axles
creaking
under
the
weight
of
their
heavy
loads
.
A
dozen
times
a
day
they
had
to
stop
to
free
a
wheel
that
had
stuck
in
a
rut
,
or
double
up
the
teams
to
climb
a
muddy
slope
.
Once
,
in
the
middle
of
a
dense
stand
of
oak
,
they
came
face
-
to
-
face
with
three
men
pulling
a
load
of
firewood
in
an
ox
cart
,
with
no
way
for
either
to
get
around
.
There
had
been
nothing
for
it
but
to
wait
while
the
foresters
unhitched
their
ox
,
led
him
through
the
trees
,
spun
the
cart
,
hitched
the
ox
up
again
,
and
started
back
the
way
they
’
d
come
.
The
ox
was
even
slower
than
the
wagons
,
so
that
day
they
hardly
got
anywhere
at
all
.
Arya
could
not
help
looking
over
her
shoulder
,
wondering
when
the
gold
cloaks
would
catch
them
.
At
night
,
she
woke
at
every
noise
to
grab
for
Needle
’
s
hilt
.
They
never
made
camp
without
putting
out
sentries
now
,
but
Arya
did
not
trust
them
,
especially
the
orphan
boys
.
They
might
have
done
well
enough
in
the
alleys
of
King
’
s
Landing
,
but
out
here
they
were
lost
.
When
she
was
being
quiet
as
a
shadow
,
she
could
sneak
past
all
of
them
,
flitting
out
by
starlight
to
make
her
water
in
the
woods
where
no
one
would
see
.
Once
,
when
Lommy
Greenhands
had
the
watch
,
she
shimmied
up
an
oak
and
moved
from
tree
to
tree
until
she
was
right
above
his
head
,
and
he
never
saw
a
thing
.
She
would
have
jumped
down
on
top
of
him
,
but
she
knew
his
scream
would
wake
the
whole
camp
,
and
Yoren
might
take
a
stick
to
her
again
.
Lommy
and
the
other
orphans
all
treated
the
Bull
like
someone
special
now
because
the
queen
wanted
his
head
,
though
he
would
have
none
of
it
.
"
I
never
did
nothing
to
no
queen
,
"
he
said
angrily
.
"
I
did
my
work
,
is
all
.
Bellows
and
tongs
and
fetch
and
carry
.
I
was
s
’
posed
to
be
an
armorer
,
and
one
day
Master
Mott
says
I
got
to
join
the
Night
’
s
Watch
,
that
’
s
all
I
know
.
"
Then
he
’
d
go
off
to
polish
his
helm
.
It
was
a
beautiful
helm
,
rounded
and
curved
,
with
a
slit
visor
and
two
great
metal
bull
’
s
horns
.
Arya
would
watch
him
polish
the
metal
with
an
oilcloth
,
shining
it
so
bright
you
could
see
the
flames
of
the
cookfire
reflected
in
the
steel
.
Yet
he
never
actually
put
it
on
his
head
.
"
I
bet
he
’
s
that
traitor
’
s
bastard
,
"
Lommy
said
one
night
,
in
a
hushed
voice
so
Gendry
would
not
hear
.
