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- Джордж Мартин
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Black
Lorren
stayed
when
the
others
had
gone
.
"
The
castle
folk
will
turn
on
us
soon
as
the
fight
begins
.
"
"
I
know
that
.
What
would
you
have
me
do
?
"
"
Put
them
out
,
"
said
Lorren
.
"
Every
one
.
"
Theon
shook
his
head
.
"
Is
the
noose
ready
?
"
"
It
is
.
You
mean
to
use
it
?
"
"
Do
you
know
a
better
way
?
"
"
Aye
.
I
’
ll
take
my
axe
and
stand
on
that
drawbridge
,
and
let
them
come
try
me
.
One
at
a
time
,
two
,
three
,
it
makes
no
matter
.
None
will
pass
the
moat
while
I
still
draw
breath
.
"
He
means
to
die
,
thought
Theon
.
It
’
s
not
victory
he
wants
,
it
’
s
an
end
worthy
of
a
song
.
"
We
’
ll
use
the
noose
.
"
"
As
you
say
,
"
Lorren
replied
,
contempt
in
his
eyes
.
Wex
helped
garb
him
for
battle
.
Beneath
his
black
surcoat
and
golden
mantle
was
a
shirt
of
well
-
oiled
ringmail
,
and
under
that
a
layer
of
stiff
boiled
leather
.
