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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 489/853
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"
The
command
was
given
you
,
not
Aeron
Damphair
.
"
"
So
long
as
the
harrying
is
done
,
what
does
it
matter
?
No
priest
could
do
what
I
mean
to
,
nor
what
I
ask
of
you
.
I
have
a
task
that
only
Dagmer
Cleftjaw
can
accomplish
.
"
Dagmer
took
a
long
draught
from
his
horn
.
"
Tell
me
.
"
He
is
tempted
,
Theon
thought
.
He
likes
this
reaver
’
s
work
no
better
than
I
do
.
"
If
my
sister
can
take
a
castle
,
so
can
I
.
"
"
Asha
has
four
or
five
times
the
men
we
do
.
"
Theon
allowed
himself
a
sly
smile
.
"
But
we
have
four
times
the
wits
,
and
five
times
the
courage
.
"
"
Your
father
—
"
"
—
will
thank
me
,
when
I
hand
him
his
kingdom
.
I
mean
to
do
a
deed
that
the
harpers
will
sing
of
for
a
thousand
years
.
"
He
knew
that
would
give
Dagmer
pause
.
A
singer
had
made
a
song
about
the
axe
that
cracked
his
jaw
in
half
,
and
the
old
man
loved
to
hear
it
.
Whenever
he
was
in
his
cups
he
would
call
for
a
reaving
song
,
something
loud
and
stormy
that
told
of
dead
heroes
and
deeds
of
wild
valor
.
His
hair
is
white
and
his
teeth
are
rotten
,
but
he
still
has
a
taste
for
glory
.
"
What
would
my
part
be
in
this
scheme
of
yours
,
boy
?
"
Dagmer
Cleftjaw
asked
after
a
long
silence
,
and
Theon
knew
he
had
won
.
