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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 342/853
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"
I
may
.
If
you
treat
me
kindly
.
"
"
How
else
?
"
Theon
quickened
his
stride
as
they
neared
the
Myraham
,
rocking
high
and
empty
by
the
quay
.
Her
captain
had
tried
to
sail
a
fortnight
past
,
but
Lord
Balon
would
not
permit
it
.
None
of
the
merchantmen
that
called
at
Lordsport
had
been
allowed
to
depart
again
;
his
father
wanted
no
word
of
the
hosting
to
reach
the
mainland
before
he
was
ready
to
strike
.
"
Milord
,
"
a
plaintive
voice
called
down
from
the
forecastle
of
the
merchanter
.
The
captain
’
s
daughter
leaned
over
the
rail
,
gazing
after
him
.
Her
father
had
forbidden
her
to
come
ashore
,
but
whenever
Theon
came
to
Lordsport
he
spied
her
wandering
forlornly
about
the
deck
.
"
Milord
,
a
moment
,
"
she
called
after
him
.
"
As
it
please
milord
.
.
.
"
"
Did
she
?
"
Esgred
asked
as
Theon
hurried
her
past
the
cog
.
"
Please
milord
?
"
He
saw
no
sense
in
being
coy
with
this
one
.
"
For
a
time
.
Now
she
wants
to
be
my
salt
wife
.
"
"
Oho
.
Well
,
she
’
d
profit
from
some
salting
,
no
doubt
.
Too
soft
and
bland
,
that
one
.
Or
am
I
wrong
?
"
"
You
’
re
not
wrong
.
"
Soft
and
bland
.
Precisely
.
How
had
she
known
?
He
had
told
Wex
to
wait
at
the
inn
.
The
common
room
was
so
crowded
that
Theon
had
to
push
his
way
through
the
door
.
Not
a
seat
was
to
be
had
at
bench
nor
table
.
Nor
did
he
see
his
squire
.
"
Wex
,
"
he
shouted
over
the
din
and
clatter
.
If
he
’
s
up
with
one
of
those
poxy
whores
,
I
’
ll
strip
the
hide
off
him
,
he
was
thinking
when
he
finally
spied
the
boy
,
dicing
near
the
hearth
.
.
.
and
winning
too
,
by
the
look
of
the
pile
of
coins
before
him
.
