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- Джордж Мартин
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"
But
one
guard
won
’
t
be
enough
,
we
need
to
kill
them
all
to
open
the
cell
.
"
Arya
bit
her
lip
hard
to
stop
from
crying
.
"
I
want
you
to
save
the
northmen
like
I
saved
you
.
"
He
looked
down
at
her
pitilessly
.
"
Three
lives
were
snatched
from
a
god
.
Three
lives
must
be
repaid
.
The
gods
are
not
mocked
.
"
His
voice
was
silk
and
steel
.
"
I
never
mocked
.
"
She
thought
for
a
moment
.
"
The
name
.
.
.
can
I
name
anyone
?
And
you
’
ll
kill
him
?
"
Jaqen
H
’
ghar
inclined
his
head
.
"
A
man
has
said
.
"
"
Anyone
?
"
she
repeated
.
"
A
man
,
a
woman
,
a
little
baby
,
or
Lord
Tywin
,
or
the
High
Septon
,
or
your
father
?
"
"
A
man
’
s
sire
is
long
dead
,
but
did
he
live
,
and
did
you
know
his
name
,
he
would
die
at
your
command
.
"
"
Swear
it
,
"
Arya
said
.
"
Swear
it
by
the
gods
.
"
"
By
all
the
gods
of
sea
and
air
,
and
even
him
of
fire
,
I
swear
it
.
"
He
placed
a
hand
in
the
mouth
of
the
weirwood
.
"
By
the
seven
new
gods
and
the
old
gods
beyond
count
,
I
swear
it
.
"
He
has
sworn
.
"
Even
if
I
named
the
king
.
.
.
"
