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- Джордж Мартин
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"
You
shut
your
mouth
!
"
Arya
tried
to
think
what
Syrio
would
have
done
.
She
drew
her
wooden
practice
sword
.
"
Come
closer
,
"
Rorge
said
,
"
and
I
’
ll
shove
that
stick
up
your
bunghole
and
fuck
you
bloody
.
"
Fear
cuts
deeper
than
swords
.
Arya
made
herself
approach
the
wagon
.
Every
step
was
harder
than
the
one
before
.
Fierce
as
a
wolverine
,
calm
as
still
water
.
The
words
sang
in
her
head
.
Syrio
would
not
have
been
afraid
.
She
was
almost
close
enough
to
touch
the
wheel
when
Biter
lurched
to
his
feet
and
grabbed
for
her
,
his
irons
clanking
and
rattling
.
The
manacles
brought
his
hands
up
short
,
half
a
foot
from
her
face
.
He
hissed
.
She
hit
him
.
Hard
,
right
between
his
little
eyes
.
Screaming
,
Biter
reeled
back
,
and
then
threw
all
his
weight
against
his
chains
.
The
links
slithered
and
turned
and
grew
taut
,
and
Arya
heard
the
creak
of
old
dry
wood
as
the
great
iron
rings
strained
against
the
floorboards
of
the
wagon
.
Huge
pale
hands
groped
for
her
while
veins
bulged
along
Biter
’
s
arms
,
but
the
bonds
held
,
and
finally
the
man
collapsed
backward
.
Blood
ran
from
the
weeping
sores
on
his
cheeks
.
"
A
boy
has
more
courage
than
sense
,
"
the
one
who
had
named
himself
Jaqen
H
’
ghar
observed
.
Arya
edged
backward
away
from
the
wagon
.
When
she
felt
the
hand
on
her
shoulder
,
she
whirled
,
bringing
up
her
stick
sword
again
,
but
it
was
only
the
Bull
.
"
What
are
you
doing
?
"
He
raised
his
hands
defensively
.
"
Yoren
said
none
of
us
should
go
near
those
three
.
"
"
They
don
’
t
scare
me
,
"
Arya
said
.
