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- Джордж Мартин
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"
An
easy
word
to
say
.
An
easy
word
to
like
.
"
"
King
,
"
the
bird
said
again
.
"
I
think
he
means
for
you
to
have
a
crown
,
my
lord
.
"
"
The
realm
has
three
kings
already
,
and
that
’
s
two
too
many
for
my
liking
.
"
Mormont
stroked
the
raven
under
the
beak
with
a
finger
,
but
all
the
while
his
eyes
never
left
Jon
Snow
.
It
made
him
feel
odd
.
"
My
lord
,
why
have
you
told
me
this
,
about
Maester
Aemon
?
"
"
Must
I
have
a
reason
?
"
Mormont
shifted
in
his
seat
,
frowning
.
"
Your
brother
Robb
has
been
crowned
King
in
the
North
.
You
and
Aemon
have
that
in
common
.
A
king
for
a
brother
.
"
"
And
this
too
,
"
said
Jon
.
"
A
vow
.
"
The
Old
Bear
gave
a
loud
snort
,
and
the
raven
took
flight
,
flapping
in
a
circle
about
the
room
,
"
Give
me
a
man
for
every
vow
I
’
ve
seen
broken
and
the
Wall
will
never
lack
for
defenders
.
"
"
I
’
ve
always
known
that
Robb
would
be
Lord
of
Winterfell
.
"
Mormont
gave
a
whistle
,
and
the
bird
flew
to
him
again
and
settled
on
his
arm
.
"
A
lord
’
s
one
thing
,
a
king
’
s
another
.
"
He
offered
the
raven
a
handful
of
corn
from
his
pocket
.
"
They
will
garb
your
brother
Robb
in
silks
,
satins
,
and
velvets
of
a
hundred
different
colors
,
while
you
live
and
die
in
black
ringmail
.
He
will
wed
some
beautiful
princess
and
father
sons
on
her
.
You
’
ll
have
no
wife
,
nor
will
you
ever
hold
a
child
of
your
own
blood
in
your
arms
.
Robb
will
rule
,
you
will
serve
.
Men
will
call
you
a
crow
.
Him
they
’
ll
call
Your
Grace
