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- Джордж Мартин
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There
was
no
safe
anchorage
at
Pyke
,
but
Theon
Greyjoy
wished
to
look
on
his
father
’
s
castle
from
the
sea
,
to
see
it
as
he
had
seen
it
last
,
ten
years
before
,
when
Robert
Baratheon
’
s
war
galley
had
borne
him
away
to
be
a
ward
of
Eddard
Stark
.
On
that
day
he
had
stood
beside
the
rail
,
listening
to
the
stroke
of
the
oars
and
the
pounding
of
the
master
’
s
drum
while
he
watched
Pyke
dwindle
in
the
distance
.
Now
he
wanted
to
see
it
grow
larger
,
to
rise
from
the
sea
before
him
.
Obedient
to
his
wishes
,
the
Myraham
beat
her
way
past
the
point
with
her
sails
snapping
and
her
captain
cursing
the
wind
and
his
crew
and
the
follies
of
highborn
lordlings
.
Theon
drew
the
hood
of
his
cloak
up
against
the
spray
,
and
looked
for
home
.
The
shore
was
all
sharp
rocks
and
glowering
cliffs
,
and
the
castle
seemed
one
with
the
rest
,
its
towers
and
walls
and
bridges
quarried
from
the
same
grey
-
black
stone
,
wet
by
the
same
salt
waves
,
festooned
with
the
same
spreading
patches
of
dark
green
lichen
,
speckled
by
the
droppings
of
the
same
seabirds
.
The
point
of
land
on
which
the
Greyjoys
had
raised
their
fortress
had
once
thrust
like
a
sword
into
the
bowels
of
the
ocean
,
but
the
waves
had
hammered
at
it
day
and
night
until
the
land
broke
and
shattered
,
thousands
of
years
past
.
All
that
remained
were
three
bare
and
barren
islands
and
a
dozen
towering
stacks
of
rock
that
rose
from
the
water
like
the
pillars
of
some
sea
god
’
s
temple
,
while
the
angry
waves
foamed
and
crashed
among
them
.
Drear
,
dark
,
forbidding
,
Pyke
stood
atop
those
islands
and
pillars
,
almost
a
part
of
them
,
its
curtain
wall
closing
off
the
headland
around
the
foot
of
the
great
stone
bridge
that
leapt
from
the
cliff
-
top
to
the
largest
islet
,
dominated
by
the
massive
bulk
of
the
Great
Keep
.
Farther
out
were
the
Kitchen
Keep
and
the
Bloody
Keep
,
each
on
its
own
island
.
Towers
and
outbuildings
clung
to
the
stacks
beyond
,
linked
to
each
other
by
covered
archways
when
the
pillars
stood
close
,
by
long
swaying
walks
of
wood
and
rope
when
they
did
not
.
The
Sea
Tower
rose
from
the
outmost
island
at
the
point
of
the
broken
sword
,
the
oldest
part
of
the
castle
,
round
and
tall
,
the
sheer
-
sided
pillar
on
which
it
stood
half
-
eaten
through
by
the
endless
battering
of
the
waves
.
The
base
of
the
tower
was
white
from
centuries
of
salt
spray
,
the
upper
stories
green
from
the
lichen
that
crawled
over
it
like
a
thick
blanket
,
the
jagged
crown
black
with
soot
from
its
nightly
watchfire
.
Above
the
Sea
Tower
snapped
his
father
’
s
banner
.
The
Myraham
was
too
far
off
for
Theon
to
see
more
than
the
cloth
itself
,
but
he
knew
the
device
it
bore
:
the
golden
kraken
of
House
Greyjoy
,
arms
writhing
and
reaching
against
a
black
field
.
The
banner
streamed
from
an
iron
mast
,
shivering
and
twisting
as
the
wind
gusted
,
like
a
bird
struggling
to
take
flight
.
And
here
at
least
the
direwolf
of
Stark
did
not
fly
above
,
casting
its
shadow
down
upon
the
Greyjoy
kraken
.
Theon
had
never
seen
a
more
stirring
sight
.
In
the
sky
behind
the
castle
,
the
fine
red
tail
of
the
comet
was
visible
through
thin
,
scuttling
clouds
.
All
the
way
from
Riverrun
to
Seagard
,
the
Mallisters
had
argued
about
its
meaning
.
It
is
my
comet
,
Theon
told
himself
,
sliding
a
hand
into
his
fur
-
lined
cloak
to
touch
the
oilskin
pouch
snug
in
its
pocket
.
Inside
was
the
letter
Robb
Stark
had
given
him
,
paper
as
good
as
a
crown
.
"
Does
the
castle
look
as
you
remember
it
,
milord
?
"
the
captain
’
s
daughter
asked
as
she
pressed
herself
against
his
arm
.
"
It
looks
smaller
,
"
Theon
confessed
,
"
though
perhaps
that
is
only
the
distance
.
"
The
Myraham
was
a
fat
-
bellied
southron
merchanter
up
from
Oldtown
,
carrying
wine
and
cloth
and
seed
to
trade
for
iron
ore
.
Her
captain
was
a
fat
-
bellied
southron
merchanter
as
well
,
and
the
stony
sea
that
foamed
at
the
feet
of
the
castle
made
his
plump
lips
quiver
,
so
he
stayed
well
out
,
farther
than
Theon
would
have
liked
.
An
ironborn
captain
in
a
longship
would
have
taken
them
along
the
cliffs
and
under
the
high
bridge
that
spanned
the
gap
between
the
gatehouse
and
the
Great
Keep
,
but
this
plump
Oldtowner
had
neither
the
craft
,
the
crew
,
nor
the
courage
to
attempt
such
a
thing
.
So
they
sailed
past
at
a
safe
distance
,
and
Theon
must
content
himself
with
seeing
Pyke
from
afar
.
Even
so
,
the
Myraham
had
to
struggle
mightily
to
keep
itself
off
those
rocks
.
