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- Джордж Мартин
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He
took
his
cup
and
went
to
the
window
seat
,
where
he
sat
drinking
and
watching
the
sea
while
the
sun
darkened
over
Pyke
.
I
have
no
place
here
,
he
thought
,
and
Asha
is
the
reason
,
may
the
Others
take
her
!
The
water
below
turned
from
green
to
grey
to
black
.
By
then
he
could
hear
distant
music
,
and
he
knew
it
was
time
to
change
for
the
feast
.
Theon
chose
plain
boots
and
plainer
clothes
,
somber
shades
of
black
and
grey
to
fit
his
mood
.
No
ornament
;
he
had
nothing
bought
with
iron
.
I
might
have
taken
something
off
that
wildling
I
killed
to
save
Bran
Stark
,
but
he
had
nothing
worth
the
taking
.
That
’
s
my
cursed
luck
,
I
kill
the
poor
.
The
long
smoky
hall
was
crowded
with
his
father
’
s
lords
and
captains
when
Theon
entered
,
near
four
hundred
of
them
.
Dagmer
Cleftjaw
had
not
yet
returned
from
Old
Wyk
with
the
Stonehouses
and
Drumms
,
but
all
the
rest
were
there
—
Harlaws
from
Harlaw
,
Blacktydes
from
Blacktyde
,
Sparrs
,
Merlyns
,
and
Goodbrothers
from
Great
Wyk
,
Saltcliffes
and
Sunderlies
from
Saltcliffe
,
and
Botleys
and
Wynches
from
the
other
side
of
Pyke
.
The
thralls
were
pouring
ale
,
and
there
was
music
,
fiddles
and
skins
and
drums
.
Three
burly
men
were
doing
the
finger
dance
,
spinning
short
-
hafted
axes
at
each
other
.
The
trick
was
to
catch
the
axe
or
leap
over
it
without
missing
a
step
.
It
was
called
the
finger
dance
because
it
usually
ended
when
one
of
the
dancers
lost
one
.
.
.
or
two
,
or
five
.
Neither
the
dancers
nor
the
drinkers
took
much
note
of
Theon
Greyjoy
as
he
strode
to
the
dais
.
Lord
Balon
occupied
the
Seastone
Chair
,
carved
in
the
shape
of
a
great
kraken
from
an
immense
block
of
oily
black
stone
.
Legend
said
that
the
First
Men
had
found
it
standing
on
the
shore
of
Old
Wyk
when
they
came
to
the
Iron
Islands
.
To
the
left
of
the
high
seat
were
Theon
’
s
uncles
.
Asha
was
ensconced
at
his
right
hand
,
in
the
place
of
honor
.
"
You
come
late
,
Theon
,
"
Lord
Balon
observed
.
"
I
ask
your
pardon
.
"
Theon
took
the
empty
seat
beside
Asha
.
Leaning
close
,
he
hissed
in
her
ear
,
"
You
’
re
in
my
place
.
"
She
turned
to
him
with
innocent
eyes
.
"
Brother
,
surely
you
are
mistaken
.
Your
place
is
at
Winterfell
.
"
Her
smile
cut
.
"
And
where
are
all
your
pretty
clothes
?
I
heard
you
fancied
silk
and
velvet
against
your
skin
.
"
She
was
in
soft
green
wool
herself
,
simply
cut
,
the
fabric
clinging
to
the
slender
lines
of
her
body
.
"
Your
hauberk
must
have
rusted
away
,
sister
,
"
he
threw
back
.
"
A
great
pity
.
I
’
d
like
to
see
you
all
in
iron
.
"
Asha
only
laughed
.
"
You
may
yet
,
little
brother
.
.
.
if
you
think
your
Sea
Bitch
can
keep
up
with
my
Black
Wind
.
"
One
of
their
father
’
s
thralls
came
near
,
bearing
a
flagon
of
wine
.
"
Are
you
drinking
ale
or
wine
tonight
,
Theon
?
"
She
leaned
over
close
.
"
Or
is
it
still
a
taste
of
my
mother
’
s
milk
you
thirst
for
?
"
