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- Джордж Мартин
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She
cradled
the
tea
in
her
scarred
hands
and
blew
on
it
to
cool
it
.
Shadd
was
one
of
the
Winterfell
men
.
Robb
had
sent
twenty
of
his
best
to
see
her
safely
to
Renly
.
He
had
sent
five
lordlings
as
well
,
whose
names
and
high
birth
would
add
weight
and
honor
to
her
mission
.
As
they
made
their
way
south
,
staying
well
clear
of
towns
and
holdfasts
,
they
had
seen
bands
of
mailed
men
more
than
once
,
and
glimpsed
smoke
on
the
eastern
horizon
,
but
none
had
dared
molest
them
.
They
were
too
weak
to
be
a
threat
,
too
many
to
be
easy
prey
.
Once
across
the
Blackwater
,
the
worst
was
behind
.
For
the
past
four
days
,
they
had
seen
no
signs
of
war
.
Catelyn
had
never
wanted
this
.
She
had
told
Robb
as
much
,
back
in
Riverrun
.
"
When
last
I
saw
Renly
,
he
was
a
boy
no
older
than
Bran
.
I
do
not
know
him
.
Send
someone
else
.
My
place
is
here
with
my
father
,
for
whatever
time
he
has
left
.
"
Her
son
had
looked
at
her
unhappily
.
"
There
is
no
one
else
.
I
cannot
go
myself
.
Your
father
’
s
too
ill
.
The
Blackfish
is
my
eyes
and
ears
,
I
dare
not
lose
him
.
Your
brother
I
need
to
hold
Riverrun
when
we
march
—
"
"
March
?
"
No
one
had
said
a
word
to
her
of
marching
.
"
I
cannot
sit
at
Riverrun
waiting
for
peace
.
It
makes
me
look
as
if
I
were
afraid
to
take
the
field
again
.
When
there
are
no
battles
to
fight
,
men
start
to
think
of
hearth
and
harvest
,
Father
told
me
that
.
Even
my
northmen
grow
restless
.
"
My
northmen
,
she
thought
.
He
is
even
starting
to
talk
like
a
king
.
"
No
one
has
ever
died
of
restlessness
,
but
rashness
is
another
matter
.
We
’
ve
planted
seeds
,
let
them
grow
.
"
Robb
shook
his
head
stubbornly
.
"
We
’
ve
tossed
some
seeds
in
the
wind
,
that
’
s
all
.
If
your
sister
Lysa
was
coming
to
aid
us
,
we
would
have
heard
by
now
.
How
many
birds
have
we
sent
to
the
Eyrie
,
four
?
I
want
peace
too
,
but
why
should
the
Lannisters
give
me
anything
if
all
I
do
is
sit
here
while
my
army
melts
away
around
me
swift
as
summer
snow
?
"
"
So
rather
than
look
craven
,
you
will
dance
to
Lord
Tywin
’
s
pipes
?
"
she
threw
back
.
"
He
wants
you
to
march
on
Harrenhal
,
ask
your
uncle
Brynden
if
—
"
"
I
said
nothing
of
Harrenhal
,
"
Robb
said
.
"
Now
,
will
you
go
to
Renly
for
me
,
or
must
I
send
the
Greatjon
?
"
The
memory
brought
a
wan
smile
to
her
face
.
Such
an
obvious
ploy
,
that
,
yet
deft
for
a
boy
of
fifteen
.
