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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Weese
,
"
she
yawned
.
"
Dunsen
,
Chiswyck
,
Polliver
,
Raff
the
Sweetling
.
The
Tickler
and
the
Hound
.
Ser
Gregor
,
Ser
Amory
,
Ser
Ilyn
,
Ser
Meryn
,
King
Joffrey
,
Queen
Cersei
.
"
She
thought
she
might
add
three
more
names
to
her
prayer
,
but
she
was
too
tired
to
decide
tonight
.
Arya
was
dreaming
of
wolves
running
wild
through
the
wood
when
a
strong
hand
clamped
down
over
her
mouth
like
smooth
warm
stone
,
solid
and
unyielding
.
She
woke
at
once
,
squirming
and
struggling
.
"
A
girl
says
nothing
,
"
a
voice
whispered
close
behind
her
ear
.
"
A
girl
keeps
her
lips
closed
,
no
one
hears
,
and
friends
may
talk
in
secret
.
Yes
?
"
Heart
pounding
,
Arya
managed
the
tiniest
of
nods
.
Jaqen
H
’
ghar
took
his
hand
away
.
The
cellar
was
black
as
pitch
and
she
could
not
see
his
face
,
even
inches
away
.
She
could
smell
him
,
though
;
his
skin
smelled
clean
and
soapy
,
and
he
had
scented
his
hair
.
"
A
boy
becomes
a
girl
,
"
he
murmured
.
"
I
was
always
a
girl
.
I
didn
’
t
think
you
saw
me
.
"
"
A
man
sees
.
A
man
knows
.
"
She
remembered
that
she
hated
him
.
"
You
scared
me
.
You
’
re
one
of
them
now
,
I
should
have
let
you
burn
.
What
are
you
doing
here
?
Go
away
or
I
’
ll
yell
for
Weese
.
"
"
A
man
pays
his
debts
.
A
man
owes
three
.
"
"
Three
?
"
"
The
Red
God
has
his
due
,
sweet
girl
,
and
only
death
may
pay
for
life
.
This
girl
took
three
that
were
his
.
This
girl
must
give
three
in
their
places
.
