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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Send
my
daughters
back
unharmed
?
"
Catelyn
smiled
sadly
.
"
There
is
a
sweet
innocence
about
you
,
child
.
I
could
wish
.
.
.
but
no
.
Robb
will
avenge
his
brothers
.
Ice
can
kill
as
dead
as
fire
.
Ice
was
Ned
’
s
greatsword
.
Valyrian
steel
,
marked
with
the
ripples
of
a
thousand
foldings
,
so
sharp
I
feared
to
touch
it
.
Robb
’
s
blade
is
dull
as
a
cudgel
compared
to
Ice
.
It
will
not
be
easy
for
him
to
get
Theon
’
s
head
off
,
I
fear
.
The
Starks
do
not
use
headsmen
.
Ned
always
said
that
the
man
who
passes
the
sentence
should
swing
the
blade
,
though
he
never
took
any
joy
in
the
duty
.
But
I
would
,
oh
,
yes
.
"
She
stared
at
her
scarred
hands
,
opened
and
closed
them
,
then
slowly
raised
her
eyes
.
"
I
’
ve
sent
him
wine
.
"
"
Wine
?
"
Brienne
was
lost
.
"
Robb
?
Or
.
.
.
Theon
Greyjoy
?
"
"
The
Kingslayer
.
"
The
ploy
had
served
her
well
with
Cleos
Frey
.
I
hope
you
’
re
thirsty
,
Jaime
.
I
hope
your
throat
is
dry
and
tight
.
"
I
would
like
you
to
come
with
me
.
"
"
I
am
yours
to
command
,
my
lady
.
"
"
Good
.
"
Catelyn
rose
abruptly
.
"
Stay
,
finish
your
meal
in
peace
.
I
will
send
for
you
later
.
At
midnight
.
"
"
So
late
,
my
lady
?
"
"
The
dungeons
are
windowless
.
One
hour
is
much
like
another
down
there
,
and
for
me
,
all
hours
are
midnight
.
"
Her
footsteps
rang
hollowly
when
Catelyn
left
the
hall
.
As
she
climbed
to
Lord
Hoster
’
s
solar
,
she
could
hear
them
outside
,
shouting
,
"
Tully
!
"
and
"
A
cup
!
A
cup
to
the
brave
young
lord
!
"
My
father
is
not
dead
,
she
wanted
to
shout
down
at
them
.
My
sons
are
dead
,
but
my
father
lives
,
damn
you
all
,
and
he
is
your
lord
still
.
Lord
Hoster
was
deep
in
sleep
.
"
He
had
a
cup
of
dreamwine
not
so
long
ago
,
my
lady
,
"
Maester
Vyman
said
.
"
For
the
pain
.
He
will
not
know
you
are
here
.
"
"
It
makes
no
matter
,
"
Catelyn
said
.
He
is
more
dead
than
alive
,
yet
more
alive
than
my
poor
sweet
sons
.
