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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 737/853
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Across
the
sea
warhorns
boomed
,
deep
throaty
moans
like
the
calls
of
monstrous
serpents
,
repeated
ship
to
ship
.
"
Bring
down
the
sail
,
"
Davos
commanded
.
"
Lower
mast
.
Oarsmen
to
your
oars
.
"
His
son
Matthos
relayed
the
commands
.
The
deck
of
Black
Betha
churned
as
crewmen
ran
to
their
tasks
,
pushing
through
the
soldiers
who
always
seemed
to
be
in
the
way
no
matter
where
they
stood
.
Ser
Imry
had
decreed
that
they
would
enter
the
river
on
oars
alone
,
so
as
not
to
expose
their
sails
to
the
scorpions
and
spitfires
on
the
walls
of
King
’
s
Landing
.
Davos
could
make
out
Fury
well
to
the
southeast
,
her
sails
shimmering
golden
as
they
came
down
,
the
crowned
stag
of
Baratheon
blazoned
on
the
canvas
.
From
her
decks
Stannis
Baratheon
had
commanded
the
assault
on
Dragonstone
sixteen
years
before
,
but
this
time
he
had
chosen
to
ride
with
his
army
,
trusting
Fury
and
the
command
of
his
fleet
to
his
wife
’
s
brother
Ser
Imry
,
who
’
d
come
over
to
his
cause
at
Storm
’
s
End
with
Lord
Alester
and
all
the
other
Florents
.
Davos
knew
Fury
as
well
as
he
knew
his
own
ships
.
Above
her
three
hundred
oars
was
a
deck
given
over
wholly
to
scorpions
,
and
topside
she
mounted
catapults
fore
and
aft
,
large
enough
to
fling
barrels
of
burning
pitch
.
A
most
formidable
ship
,
and
very
swift
as
well
,
although
Ser
Imry
had
packed
her
bow
to
stern
with
armored
knights
and
men
-
at
-
arms
,
at
some
cost
to
her
speed
.
The
warhorns
sounded
again
,
commands
drifting
back
from
the
Fury
.
Davos
felt
a
tingle
in
his
missing
fingertips
.
"
Out
oars
,
"
he
shouted
.
"
Form
line
.
"
A
hundred
blades
dipped
down
into
the
water
as
the
oarmaster
’
s
drum
began
to
boom
.
The
sound
was
like
the
beating
of
a
great
slow
heart
,
and
the
oars
moved
at
every
stroke
,
a
hundred
men
pulling
as
one
.
Wooden
wings
had
sprouted
from
the
Wraith
and
Lady
Marya
as
well
.
The
three
galleys
kept
pace
,
their
blades
churning
the
water
.
"
Slow
cruise
,
"
Davos
called
.
Lord
Velaryon
’
s
silver
-
hulled
Pride
of
Driftmark
had
moved
into
her
position
to
port
of
Wraith
,
and
Bold
Laughter
was
coming
up
fast
,
but
Harridan
was
only
now
getting
her
oars
into
the
water
and
Seahorse
was
still
struggling
to
bring
down
her
mast
.
Davos
looked
astern
.
Yes
,
there
,
far
to
the
south
,
that
could
only
be
Swordfish
,
lagging
as
ever
.
She
dipped
two
hundred
oars
and
mounted
the
largest
ram
in
the
fleet
,
though
Davos
had
grave
doubts
about
her
captain
.
He
could
hear
soldiers
shouting
encouragement
to
each
other
across
the
water
.
They
’
d
been
little
more
than
ballast
since
Storm
’
s
End
,
and
were
eager
to
get
at
the
foe
,
confident
of
victory
.
In
that
,
they
were
of
one
mind
with
their
admiral
,
Lord
High
Captain
Ser
Imry
Florent
.
Three
days
past
,
he
had
summoned
all
his
captains
to
a
war
council
aboard
the
Fury
while
the
fleet
lay
anchored
at
the
mouth
of
the
Wendwater
,
in
order
to
acquaint
them
with
his
dispositions
.
Davos
and
his
sons
had
been
assigned
a
place
in
the
second
line
of
battle
,
well
out
on
the
dangerous
starboard
wing
.
"
A
place
of
honor
,
"
Allard
had
declared
,
well
satisfied
with
the
chance
to
prove
his
valor
.
"
A
place
of
peril
,
"
his
father
had
pointed
out
.
His
sons
had
given
him
pitying
looks
,
even
young
Maric
.
The
Onion
Knight
has
become
an
old
woman
,
he
could
hear
them
thinking
,
still
a
smuggler
at
heart
.
Well
,
the
last
was
true
enough
,
he
would
make
no
apologies
for
it
.
Seaworth
had
a
lordly
ring
to
it
,
but
down
deep
he
was
still
Davos
of
Flea
Bottom
,
coming
home
to
his
city
on
its
three
high
hills
.
He
knew
as
much
of
ships
and
sails
and
shores
as
any
man
in
the
Seven
Kingdoms
,
and
had
fought
his
share
of
desperate
fights
sword
to
sword
on
a
wet
deck
.
But
to
this
sort
of
battle
he
came
a
maiden
,
nervous
and
afraid
.
Smugglers
do
not
sound
warhorns
and
raise
banners
.
When
they
smell
danger
,
they
raise
sail
and
run
before
the
wind
.
Had
he
been
admiral
,
he
might
have
done
it
all
differently
.
For
a
start
,
he
would
have
sent
a
few
of
his
swiftest
ships
to
probe
upriver
and
see
what
awaited
them
,
instead
of
smashing
in
headlong
.
When
he
had
suggested
as
much
to
Ser
Imry
,
the
Lord
High
Captain
had
thanked
him
courteously
,
but
his
eyes
were
not
as
polite
.
Who
is
this
lowborn
craven
?
those
eyes
asked
.
