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- Джордж Мартин
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"
I
confess
,
I
am
.
.
.
and
new
with
child
.
"
Somehow
that
thought
excited
him
.
"
So
you
say
,
but
your
body
shows
no
signs
of
it
.
How
shall
it
be
proven
?
Before
I
believe
you
,
I
shall
need
to
see
your
breasts
grow
ripe
,
and
taste
your
mother
’
s
milk
.
"
"
And
what
will
my
husband
say
to
this
?
Your
father
’
s
own
sworn
man
and
servant
?
"
"
We
’
ll
give
him
so
many
ships
to
build
,
he
’
ll
never
know
you
’
ve
left
him
.
"
She
laughed
.
"
It
’
s
a
cruel
lordling
who
’
s
seized
me
.
If
I
promise
you
that
one
day
you
may
watch
my
babe
get
suck
,
will
you
tell
me
more
of
your
war
,
Theon
of
House
Greyjoy
?
There
are
miles
and
mountains
still
ahead
of
us
,
and
I
would
hear
of
this
wolf
king
you
served
,
and
the
golden
lions
he
fights
.
"
Ever
anxious
to
please
her
,
Theon
obliged
.
The
rest
of
the
long
ride
passed
swiftly
as
he
filled
her
pretty
head
with
tales
of
Winterfell
and
war
.
Some
of
the
things
he
said
astonished
him
.
She
is
easy
to
talk
to
,
gods
praise
her
,
he
reflected
.
I
feel
as
though
I
’
ve
known
her
for
years
.
If
the
wench
’
s
pillow
play
is
half
the
equal
of
her
wit
,
I
’
ll
need
to
keep
her
.
.
.
He
thought
of
Sigrin
the
Shipwright
,
a
thick
-
bodied
,
thick
-
witted
man
,
flaxen
hair
already
receding
from
a
pimpled
brow
,
and
shook
his
head
.
A
waste
.
A
most
tragic
waste
.
It
seemed
scarcely
any
time
at
all
before
the
great
curtain
wall
of
Pyke
loomed
up
before
them
.
The
gates
were
open
.
Theon
put
his
heels
into
Smiler
and
rode
through
at
a
brisk
trot
.
The
hounds
were
barking
wildly
as
he
helped
Esgred
dismount
.
Several
came
bounding
up
,
tails
wagging
.
They
shot
straight
past
him
and
almost
bowled
the
woman
over
,
leaping
all
around
her
,
yapping
and
licking
.
"
Off
,
"
Theon
shouted
,
aiming
an
ineffectual
kick
at
one
big
brown
bitch
,
but
Esgred
was
laughing
and
wrestling
with
them
.
