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- Джордж Мартин
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"
I
am
their
lawful
prince
,
"
Theon
said
stiffly
.
"
By
the
laws
of
the
green
lands
,
you
might
be
.
But
we
make
our
own
laws
here
,
or
have
you
forgotten
?
"
Scowling
,
Theon
turned
to
contemplate
the
leaking
trencher
before
him
.
He
would
have
stew
in
his
lap
before
long
.
He
shouted
for
a
thrall
to
clean
it
up
.
Half
my
life
I
have
waited
to
come
home
,
and
for
what
?
Mockery
and
disregard
?
This
was
not
the
Pyke
he
remembered
.
Or
did
he
remember
?
He
had
been
so
young
when
they
took
him
away
to
hold
hostage
.
The
feast
was
a
meager
enough
thing
,
a
succession
of
fish
stews
,
black
bread
,
and
spiceless
goat
.
The
tastiest
thing
Theon
found
to
eat
was
an
onion
pie
.
Ale
and
wine
continued
to
flow
well
after
the
last
of
the
courses
had
been
cleared
away
.
Lord
Balon
Greyjoy
rose
from
the
Seastone
Chair
.
"
Have
done
with
your
drink
and
come
to
my
solar
,
"
he
commanded
his
companions
on
the
dais
.
"
We
have
plans
to
lay
.
"
He
left
them
with
no
other
word
,
flanked
by
two
of
his
guards
.
His
brothers
followed
in
short
order
.
Theon
rose
to
go
after
them
.
"
My
little
brother
is
in
a
rush
to
be
off
.
"
Asha
raised
her
drinking
horn
and
beckoned
for
more
ale
.
"
Our
lord
father
is
waiting
.
"
"
And
has
,
for
many
a
year
.
It
will
do
him
no
harm
to
wait
a
little
longer
.
.
.
but
if
you
fear
his
wrath
,
scurry
after
him
by
all
means
.
You
ought
to
have
no
trouble
catching
our
uncles
.
"
She
smiled
.
"
One
is
drunk
on
seawater
,
after
all
,
and
the
other
is
a
great
grey
bullock
so
dim
he
’
ll
probably
get
lost
.
"
Theon
sat
back
down
,
annoyed
.
"
I
run
after
no
man
.
"
