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- Джордж Мартин
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She
was
wide
-
awake
when
she
heard
the
shouting
.
Distant
at
first
,
then
growing
louder
.
Many
voices
yelling
together
.
She
could
not
make
out
the
words
.
And
there
were
horses
as
well
,
and
pounding
feet
,
shouts
of
command
.
She
crept
to
her
window
and
saw
men
running
on
the
walls
,
carrying
spears
and
torches
.
Go
back
to
your
bed
,
Sansa
told
herself
,
this
is
nothing
that
concerns
you
,
just
some
new
trouble
out
in
the
city
.
The
talk
at
the
wells
had
all
been
of
troubles
in
the
city
of
late
.
People
were
crowding
in
,
running
from
the
war
,
and
many
had
no
way
to
live
save
by
robbing
and
killing
each
other
.
Go
to
bed
.
But
when
she
looked
,
the
white
knight
was
gone
,
the
bridge
across
the
dry
moat
down
but
undefended
.
Sansa
turned
away
without
thinking
and
ran
to
her
wardrobe
.
Oh
,
what
am
I
doing
?
she
asked
herself
as
she
dressed
.
This
is
madness
.
She
could
see
the
lights
of
many
torches
on
the
curtain
walls
.
Had
Stannis
and
Renly
come
at
last
to
kill
Joffrey
and
claim
their
brother
’
s
throne
?
If
so
,
the
guards
would
raise
the
drawbridge
,
cutting
off
Maegor
’
s
Holdfast
from
the
outer
castle
.
Sansa
threw
a
plain
grey
cloak
over
her
shoulders
and
picked
up
the
knife
she
used
to
cut
her
meat
.
If
it
is
some
trap
,
better
that
I
die
than
let
them
hurt
me
more
,
she
told
herself
.
She
hid
the
blade
under
her
cloak
.
A
column
of
red
-
cloaked
swordsmen
ran
past
as
she
slipped
out
into
the
night
.
She
waited
until
they
were
well
past
before
she
darted
across
the
undefended
drawbridge
.
In
the
yard
,
men
were
buckling
on
swordbelts
and
cinching
the
saddles
of
their
horses
.
She
glimpsed
Ser
Preston
near
the
stables
with
three
others
of
the
Kingsguard
,
white
cloaks
bright
as
the
moon
as
they
helped
Joffrey
into
his
armor
.
Her
breath
caught
in
her
throat
when
she
saw
the
king
.
Thankfully
,
he
did
not
see
her
.
He
was
shouting
for
his
sword
and
crossbow
.
The
noise
receded
as
she
moved
deeper
into
the
castle
,
never
daring
to
look
back
for
fear
that
Joffrey
might
be
watching
.
.
.
or
worse
,
following
.
The
serpentine
steps
twisted
ahead
,
striped
by
bars
of
flickering
light
from
the
narrow
windows
above
.
Sansa
was
panting
by
the
time
she
reached
the
top
.
She
ran
down
a
shadowy
colonnade
and
pressed
herself
against
a
wall
to
catch
her
breath
.
When
something
brushed
against
her
leg
,
she
almost
jumped
out
of
her
skin
,
but
it
was
only
a
cat
,
a
ragged
black
tom
with
a
chewed
-
off
ear
.
The
creature
spit
at
her
and
leapt
away
.
By
the
time
she
reached
the
godswood
,
the
noises
had
faded
to
a
faint
rattle
of
steel
and
a
distant
shouting
.
Sansa
pulled
her
cloak
tighter
.
The
air
was
rich
with
the
smells
of
earth
and
leaf
.
Lady
would
have
liked
this
place
,
she
thought
.
There
was
something
wild
about
a
godswood
;
even
here
,
in
the
heart
of
the
castle
at
the
heart
of
the
city
,
you
could
feel
the
old
gods
watching
with
a
thousand
unseen
eyes
.
Sansa
had
favored
her
mother
’
s
gods
over
her
father
’
s
.
She
loved
the
statues
,
the
pictures
in
leaded
glass
,
the
fragrance
of
burning
incense
,
the
septons
with
their
robes
and
crystals
,
the
magical
play
of
the
rainbows
over
altars
inlaid
with
mother
-
of
-
pearl
and
onyx
and
lapis
lazuli
.
Yet
she
could
not
deny
that
the
godswood
had
a
certain
power
too
.
Especially
by
night
.
Help
me
,
she
prayed
,
send
me
a
friend
,
a
true
knight
to
champion
me
.
.
.
She
moved
from
tree
to
tree
,
feeling
the
roughness
of
the
bark
beneath
her
fingers
.
Leaves
brushed
at
her
cheeks
.
Had
she
come
too
late
?
He
would
not
have
left
so
soon
,
would
he
?
Or
had
he
even
been
here
?
Dare
she
risk
calling
out
?
It
seemed
so
hushed
and
still
here
.
.
.
