-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Мартин
-
- Битва королей
-
- Стр. 733/853
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
She
knew
the
hymn
;
her
mother
had
taught
it
to
her
once
,
a
long
time
ago
in
Winterfell
.
She
joined
her
voice
to
theirs
.
Gentle
Mother
,
font
of
mercy
,
save
our
sons
from
war
,
we
pray
,
stay
the
swords
and
stay
the
arrows
,
let
them
know
a
better
day
.
Gentle
Mother
,
strength
of
women
,
help
our
daughters
through
this
fray
,
soothe
the
wrath
and
tame
the
fury
,
teach
us
all
a
kinder
way
.
Across
the
city
,
thousands
had
jammed
into
the
Great
Sept
of
Baelor
on
Visenya
’
s
Hill
,
and
they
would
be
singing
too
,
their
voices
swelling
out
over
the
city
,
across
the
river
,
and
up
into
the
sky
.
Surely
the
gods
must
hear
us
,
she
thought
.
Sansa
knew
most
of
the
hymns
,
and
followed
along
on
those
she
did
not
know
as
best
she
could
.
She
sang
along
with
grizzled
old
serving
men
and
anxious
young
wives
,
with
serving
girls
and
soldiers
,
cooks
and
falconers
,
knights
and
knaves
,
squires
and
spit
boys
and
nursing
mothers
.
She
sang
with
those
inside
the
castle
walls
and
those
without
,
sang
with
all
the
city
.
She
sang
for
mercy
,
for
the
living
and
the
dead
alike
,
for
Bran
and
Rickon
and
Robb
,
for
her
sister
Arya
and
her
bastard
brother
Jon
Snow
,
away
off
on
the
Wall
.
She
sang
for
her
mother
and
her
father
,
for
her
grandfather
Lord
Hoster
and
her
uncle
Edmure
Tully
,
for
her
friend
Jeyne
Poole
,
for
old
drunken
King
Robert
,
for
Septa
Mordane
and
Ser
Dontos
and
Jory
Cassel
and
Maester
Luwin
,
for
all
the
brave
knights
and
soldiers
who
would
die
today
,
and
for
the
children
and
the
wives
who
would
mourn
them
,
and
finally
,
toward
the
end
,
she
even
sang
for
Tyrion
the
Imp
and
for
the
Hound
.
He
is
no
true
knight
but
he
saved
me
all
the
same
,
she
told
the
Mother
.
Save
him
if
you
can
,
and
gentle
the
rage
inside
him
.
But
when
the
septon
climbed
on
high
and
called
upon
the
gods
to
protect
and
defend
their
true
and
noble
king
,
Sansa
got
to
her
feet
.
The
aisles
were
jammed
with
people
.
She
had
to
shoulder
through
while
the
septon
called
upon
the
Smith
to
lend
strength
to
Joffrey
’
s
sword
and
shield
,
the
Warrior
to
give
him
courage
,
the
Father
to
defend
him
in
his
need
.
Let
his
sword
break
and
his
shield
shatter
,
Sansa
thought
coldly
as
she
shoved
out
through
the
doors
,
let
his
courage
fail
him
and
every
man
desert
him
.
A
few
guards
paced
along
on
the
gatehouse
battlements
,
but
otherwise
the
castle
seemed
empty
.
Sansa
stopped
and
listened
.
A
way
off
,
she
could
hear
the
sounds
of
battle
.
The
singing
almost
drowned
them
out
,
but
the
sounds
were
there
if
you
had
the
ears
to
hear
:
the
deep
moan
of
warhorns
,
the
creak
and
thud
of
catapults
flinging
stones
,
the
splashes
and
splinterings
,
the
crackle
of
burning
pitch
and
thrum
of
scorpions
loosing
their
yard
-
long
iron
-
headed
shafts
.
.
.
and
beneath
it
all
,
the
cries
of
dying
men
.
It
was
another
sort
of
song
,
a
terrible
song
.
Sansa
pulled
the
hood
of
her
cloak
up
over
her
ears
,
and
hurried
toward
Maegor
’
s
Holdfast
,
the
castle
-
within
-
a
-
castle
where
the
queen
had
promised
they
would
all
be
safe
.
At
the
foot
of
the
drawbridge
,
she
came
upon
Lady
Tanda
and
her
two
daughters
.
Falyse
had
arrived
yesterday
from
Castle
Stokeworth
with
a
small
troop
of
soldiers
.
