-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Мартин
-
- Битва королей
-
- Стр. 289/853
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Bran
?
"
Ser
Rodrik
said
.
"
You
do
not
eat
.
"
The
waking
dream
had
been
so
vivid
,
for
a
moment
Bran
had
not
known
where
he
was
.
"
I
’
ll
have
more
later
,
"
he
said
.
"
My
belly
’
s
full
to
bursting
.
"
The
old
knight
’
s
white
mustache
was
pink
with
wine
.
"
You
have
done
well
,
Bran
.
Here
,
and
at
the
audiences
.
You
will
be
an
especial
fine
lord
one
day
,
I
think
.
"
I
want
to
be
a
knight
.
Bran
took
another
sip
of
the
spiced
honey
wine
from
his
father
’
s
goblet
,
grateful
for
something
to
clutch
.
The
lifelike
head
of
a
snarling
direwolf
was
raised
on
the
side
of
the
cup
.
He
felt
the
silver
muzzle
pressing
against
his
palm
,
and
remembered
the
last
time
he
had
seen
his
lord
father
drink
from
this
goblet
.
It
had
been
the
night
of
the
welcoming
feast
,
when
King
Robert
had
brought
his
court
to
Winterfell
.
Summer
still
reigned
then
.
His
parents
had
shared
the
dais
with
Robert
and
his
queen
,
with
her
brothers
beside
her
.
Uncle
Benjen
had
been
there
too
,
all
in
black
.
Bran
and
his
brothers
and
sisters
sat
with
the
king
’
s
children
,
Joffrey
and
Tommen
and
Princess
Myrcella
,
who
’
d
spent
the
whole
meal
gazing
at
Robb
with
adoring
eyes
.
Arya
made
faces
across
the
table
when
no
one
was
looking
;
Sansa
listened
raptly
while
the
king
’
s
high
harper
sang
songs
of
chivalry
,
and
Rickon
kept
asking
why
Jon
wasn
’
t
with
them
.
"
Because
he
’
s
a
bastard
,
"
Bran
finally
had
to
whisper
to
him
.
And
now
they
are
all
gone
.
It
was
as
if
some
cruel
god
had
reached
down
with
a
great
hand
and
swept
them
all
away
,
the
girls
to
captivity
,
Jon
to
the
Wall
,
Robb
and
Mother
to
war
,
King
Robert
and
Father
to
their
graves
,
and
perhaps
Uncle
Benjen
as
well
.
.
.
Even
down
on
the
benches
,
there
were
new
men
at
the
tables
.
Jory
was
dead
,
and
Fat
Tom
,
and
Porther
,
Alyn
,
Desmond
,
Hullen
who
had
been
master
of
horse
,
Harwin
his
son
.
.
.
all
those
who
had
gone
south
with
his
father
,
even
Septa
Mordane
and
Vayon
Poole
.
The
rest
had
ridden
to
war
with
Robb
,
and
might
soon
be
dead
as
well
for
all
Bran
knew
.
He
liked
Hayhead
and
Poxy
Tym
and
Skittrick
and
the
other
new
men
well
enough
,
but
he
missed
his
old
friends
.
He
looked
up
and
down
the
benches
at
all
the
faces
happy
and
sad
,
and
wondered
who
would
be
missing
next
year
and
the
year
after
.
He
might
have
cried
then
,
but
he
couldn
’
t
.
He
was
the
Stark
in
Winterfell
,
his
father
’
s
son
and
his
brother
’
s
heir
,
and
almost
a
man
grown
.
