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- Джордж Мартин
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The
officer
smiled
.
"
Old
fool
.
I
have
five
men
with
me
.
"
Yoren
spat
.
"
Happens
I
got
thirty
.
"
The
gold
cloak
laughed
.
"
This
lot
?
"
said
a
big
lout
with
a
broken
nose
.
"
Who
’
s
first
?
"
he
shouted
,
showing
his
steel
.
Tarber
plucked
a
pitchfork
out
of
a
bale
of
hay
.
"
I
am
.
"
"
No
,
I
am
,
"
called
Cutjack
,
the
plump
stonemason
,
pulling
his
hammer
off
the
leather
apron
he
always
wore
.
"
Me
.
"
Kurz
came
up
off
the
ground
with
his
skinning
knife
in
hand
.
"
Me
and
him
.
"
Koss
strung
his
longbow
.
"
All
of
us
,
"
said
Reysen
,
snatching
up
the
tall
hardwood
walking
staff
he
carried
.
Dobber
stepped
naked
out
of
the
bathhouse
with
his
clothes
in
a
bundle
,
saw
what
was
happening
,
and
dropped
everything
but
his
dagger
.
"
Is
it
a
fight
?
"
he
asked
.
