-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Мартин
-
- Битва королей
-
- Стр. 93/853
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Singers
will
praise
every
little
thing
he
does
,
while
your
greatest
deeds
all
go
unsung
.
Tell
me
that
none
of
this
troubles
you
,
Jon
.
.
.
and
I
’
ll
name
you
a
liar
,
and
know
I
have
the
truth
of
it
.
"
Jon
drew
himself
up
,
taut
as
a
bowstring
.
"
And
if
it
did
trouble
me
,
what
might
I
do
,
bastard
as
I
am
?
"
"
What
will
you
do
?
"
Mormont
asked
.
"
Bastard
as
you
are
?
"
"
Be
troubled
,
"
said
Jon
,
"
and
keep
my
vows
.
"
Her
son
’
s
crown
was
fresh
from
the
forge
,
and
it
seemed
to
Catelyn
Stark
that
the
weight
of
it
pressed
heavy
on
Robb
’
s
head
.
The
ancient
crown
of
the
Kings
of
Winter
had
been
lost
three
centuries
ago
,
yielded
up
to
Aegon
the
Conqueror
when
Torrhen
Stark
knelt
in
submission
.
What
Aegon
had
done
with
it
no
man
could
say
.
Lord
Hoster
’
s
smith
had
done
his
work
well
,
and
Robb
’
s
crown
looked
much
as
the
other
was
said
to
have
looked
in
the
tales
told
of
the
Stark
kings
of
old
;
an
open
circlet
of
hammered
bronze
incised
with
the
runes
of
the
First
Men
,
surmounted
by
nine
black
iron
spikes
wrought
in
the
shape
of
longswords
.
Of
gold
and
silver
and
gemstones
,
it
had
none
;
bronze
and
iron
were
the
metals
of
winter
,
dark
and
strong
to
fight
against
the
cold
.
As
they
waited
in
Riverrun
’
s
Great
Hall
for
the
prisoner
to
be
brought
before
them
,
she
saw
Robb
push
back
the
crown
so
it
rested
upon
the
thick
auburn
mop
of
his
hair
;
moments
later
,
he
moved
it
forward
again
;
later
he
gave
it
a
quarter
turn
,
as
if
that
might
make
it
sit
more
easily
on
his
brow
.
It
is
no
easy
thing
to
wear
a
crown
,
Catelyn
thought
,
watching
,
especially
for
a
boy
of
fifteen
years
.
When
the
guards
brought
in
the
captive
,
Robb
called
for
his
sword
.
Olyvar
Frey
offered
it
up
hilt
-
first
,
and
her
son
drew
the
blade
and
laid
it
bare
across
his
knees
,
a
threat
plain
for
all
to
see
.
"
Your
Grace
,
here
is
the
man
you
asked
for
,
"
announced
Ser
Robin
Ryger
,
captain
of
the
Tully
household
guard
.
"
Kneel
before
the
king
,
Lannister
!
"
Theon
Greyjoy
shouted
.
Ser
Robin
forced
the
prisoner
to
his
knees
.
He
did
not
look
a
lion
,
Catelyn
reflected
.
This
Ser
Cleos
Frey
was
a
son
of
the
Lady
Genna
who
was
sister
to
Lord
Tywin
Lannister
,
but
he
had
none
of
the
fabled
Lannister
beauty
,
the
fair
hair
and
green
eyes
.
Instead
he
had
inherited
the
stringy
brown
locks
,
weak
chin
,
and
thin
face
of
his
sire
,
Ser
Emmon
Frey
,
old
Lord
Walder
’
s
second
son
.
His
eyes
were
pale
and
watery
and
he
could
not
seem
to
stop
blinking
,
but
perhaps
that
was
only
the
light
.
The
cells
below
Riverrun
were
dark
and
damp
.
.
.
and
these
days
crowded
as
well
.
