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- Джордж Мартин
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"
An
inventory
,
"
Sam
said
,
"
or
perhaps
a
bill
of
sale
.
"
"
Who
cares
how
much
pickled
cod
they
ate
six
hundred
years
ago
?
"
Jon
wondered
.
"
I
would
.
"
Sam
carefully
replaced
the
scroll
in
the
bin
from
which
Jon
had
plucked
it
.
"
You
can
learn
so
much
from
ledgers
like
that
,
truly
you
can
.
It
can
tell
you
how
many
men
were
in
the
Night
’
s
Watch
then
,
how
they
lived
,
what
they
ate
.
.
.
"
"
They
ate
food
,
"
said
Jon
,
"
and
they
lived
as
we
live
.
"
"
You
’
d
be
surprised
.
This
vault
is
a
treasure
,
Jon
.
"
"
If
you
say
so
.
"
Jon
was
doubtful
.
Treasure
meant
gold
,
silver
,
and
jewels
,
not
dust
,
spiders
,
and
rotting
leather
.
"
I
do
,
"
the
fat
boy
blurted
.
He
was
older
than
Jon
,
a
man
grown
by
law
,
but
it
was
hard
to
think
of
him
as
anything
but
a
boy
.
"
I
found
drawings
of
the
faces
in
the
trees
,
and
a
book
about
the
tongue
of
the
children
of
the
forest
.
.
.
works
that
even
the
Citadel
doesn
’
t
have
,
scrolls
from
old
Valyria
,
counts
of
the
seasons
written
by
maesters
dead
a
thousand
years
.
.
.
"
"
The
books
will
still
be
here
when
we
return
.
"
"
If
we
return
.
.
.
"
