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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 178/853
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The
house
felt
as
though
it
had
been
empty
for
some
time
.
Kneeling
,
he
searched
through
the
straw
with
his
hands
to
see
if
anything
had
been
concealed
beneath
,
then
made
a
round
of
the
walls
.
It
did
not
take
very
long
.
"
There
’
s
nothing
here
.
"
Nothing
was
what
he
had
expected
;
Whitetree
was
the
fourth
village
they
had
passed
,
and
it
had
been
the
same
in
all
of
them
.
The
people
were
gone
,
vanished
with
their
scant
possessions
and
whatever
animals
they
may
have
had
.
None
of
the
villages
showed
any
signs
of
having
been
attacked
.
They
were
simply
.
.
.
empty
.
"
What
do
you
think
happened
to
them
all
?
"
Jon
asked
.
"
Something
worse
than
we
can
imagine
,
"
suggested
Dolorous
Edd
.
"
Well
,
I
might
be
able
to
imagine
it
,
but
I
’
d
sooner
not
.
Bad
enough
to
know
you
’
re
going
to
come
to
some
awful
end
without
thinking
about
it
aforetime
.
"
Two
of
the
hounds
were
sniffing
around
the
door
as
they
reemerged
.
Other
dogs
ranged
through
the
village
.
Chett
was
cursing
them
loudly
,
his
voice
thick
with
the
anger
he
never
seemed
to
put
aside
.
The
light
filtering
through
the
red
leaves
of
the
weirwood
made
the
boils
on
his
face
look
even
more
inflamed
than
usual
.
When
he
saw
Jon
his
eyes
narrowed
;
there
was
no
love
lost
between
them
.
The
other
houses
had
yielded
no
wisdom
.
"
Gone
,
"
cried
Mormont
’
s
raven
,
flapping
up
into
the
weirwood
to
perch
above
them
.
"
Gone
,
gone
,
gone
.
"
"
There
were
wildlings
at
Whitetree
only
a
year
ago
.
"
Thoren
Smallwood
looked
more
a
lord
than
Mormont
did
,
clad
in
Ser
Jaremy
Rykker
’
s
gleaming
black
mail
and
embossed
breastplate
.
His
heavy
cloak
was
richly
trimmed
with
sable
,
and
clasped
with
the
crossed
hammers
of
the
Rykkers
,
wrought
in
silver
.
Ser
Jaremy
’
s
cloak
,
once
.
.
.
but
the
wight
had
claimed
Ser
Jaremy
,
and
the
Night
’
s
Watch
wasted
nothing
.
"
A
year
ago
Robert
was
king
,
and
the
realm
was
at
peace
,
"
declared
Jarman
Buckwell
,
the
square
stolid
man
who
commanded
the
scouts
.
"
Much
can
change
in
a
year
’
s
time
.
"
"
One
thing
hasn
’
t
changed
,
"
Ser
Mallador
Locke
insisted
.
"
Fewer
wildlings
means
fewer
worries
.
I
won
’
t
mourn
,
whatever
’
s
become
of
them
.
Raiders
and
murderers
,
the
lot
of
them
.
"
Jon
heard
a
rustling
from
the
red
leaves
above
.
Two
branches
parted
,
and
he
glimpsed
a
little
man
moving
from
limb
to
limb
as
easily
as
a
squirrel
.
Bedwyck
stood
no
more
than
five
feet
tall
,
but
the
grey
streaks
in
his
hair
showed
his
age
.
The
other
rangers
called
him
Giant
.
He
sat
in
a
fork
of
the
tree
over
their
heads
and
said
,
"
There
’
s
water
to
the
north
.
A
lake
,
might
be
.
A
few
flint
hills
rising
to
the
west
,
not
very
high
.
Nothing
else
to
see
,
my
lords
.
"
