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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 163/751
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Catelyn
was
past
delicacy
.
"
He
was
my
father
's
ward
.
We
grew
up
together
in
Riverrun
.
I
thought
of
him
as
a
brother
,
but
his
feelings
for
me
were
...
more
than
brotherly
.
When
it
was
announced
that
I
was
to
wed
Brandon
Stark
,
Petyr
challenged
for
the
right
to
my
hand
.
It
was
madness
.
Brandon
was
twenty
,
Petyr
scarcely
fifteen
.
I
had
to
beg
Brandon
to
spare
Petyr
's
life
.
He
let
him
off
with
a
scar
.
Afterward
my
father
sent
him
away
.
I
have
not
seen
him
since
.
"
She
lifted
her
face
to
the
spray
,
as
if
the
brisk
wind
could
blow
the
memories
away
.
"
He
wrote
to
me
at
Riverrun
after
Brandon
was
killed
,
but
I
burned
the
letter
unread
.
By
then
I
knew
that
Ned
would
marry
me
in
his
brother
's
place
.
"
Ser
Rodrik
's
fingers
fumbled
once
again
for
nonexistent
whiskers
.
"
Littlefinger
sits
on
the
small
council
now
.
"
"
I
knew
he
would
rise
high
,
"
Catelyn
said
.
"
He
was
always
clever
,
even
as
a
boy
,
but
it
is
one
thing
to
be
clever
and
another
to
be
wise
.
I
wonder
what
the
years
have
done
to
him
.
"
High
overhead
,
the
far-eyes
sang
out
from
the
rigging
.
Captain
Moreo
came
scrambling
across
the
deck
,
giving
orders
,
and
all
around
them
the
Storm
Dancer
burst
into
frenetic
activity
as
King
's
Landing
slid
into
view
atop
its
three
high
hills
.
Three
hundred
years
ago
,
Catelyn
knew
,
those
heights
had
been
covered
with
forest
,
and
only
a
handful
of
fisherfolk
had
lived
on
the
north
shore
of
the
Blackwater
Rush
where
that
deep
,
swift
river
flowed
into
the
sea
.
Then
Aegon
the
Conqueror
had
sailed
from
Dragonstone
.
It
was
here
that
his
army
had
put
ashore
,
and
there
on
the
highest
hill
that
he
built
his
first
crude
redoubt
of
wood
and
earth
.
Now
the
city
covered
the
shore
as
far
as
Catelyn
could
see
;
manses
and
arbors
and
granaries
,
brick
storehouses
and
timbered
inns
and
merchant
's
stalls
,
taverns
and
graveyards
and
brothels
,
all
piled
one
on
another
.
She
could
hear
the
clamor
of
the
fish
market
even
at
this
distance
.
Between
the
buildings
were
broad
roads
lined
with
trees
,
wandering
crookback
streets
,
and
alleys
so
narrow
that
two
men
could
not
walk
abreast
.
Visenya
's
hill
was
crowned
by
the
Great
Sept
of
Baelor
with
its
seven
crystal
towers
.
Across
the
city
on
the
hill
of
Rhaenys
stood
the
blackened
walls
of
the
Dragonpit
,
its
huge
dome
collapsing
into
ruin
,
its
bronze
doors
closed
now
for
a
century
.
The
Street
of
the
Sisters
ran
between
them
,
straight
as
an
arrow
.
The
city
walls
rose
in
the
distance
,
high
and
strong
.
A
hundred
quays
lined
the
waterfront
,
and
the
harbor
was
crowded
with
ships
.
Deepwater
fishing
boats
and
river
runners
came
and
went
,
ferrymen
poled
back
and
forth
across
the
Blackwater
Rush
,
trading
galleys
unloaded
goods
from
Braavos
and
Pentos
and
Lys
.
Catelyn
spied
the
queen
's
ornate
barge
,
tied
up
beside
a
fat-bellied
whaler
from
the
Port
of
Ibben
,
its
hull
black
with
tar
,
while
upriver
a
dozen
lean
golden
warships
rested
in
their
cribs
,
sails
furled
and
cruel
iron
rams
lapping
at
the
water
.
And
above
it
all
,
frowning
down
from
Aegon
's
high
hill
,
was
the
Red
Keep
;
seven
huge
drum-towers
crowned
with
iron
ramparts
,
an
immense
grim
barbican
,
vaulted
halls
and
covered
bridges
,
barracks
and
dungeons
and
granaries
,
massive
curtain
walls
studded
with
archers
'
nests
,
all
fashioned
of
pale
red
stone
.
Aegon
the
Conqueror
had
commanded
it
built
.
His
son
Maegor
the
Cruel
had
seen
it
completed
.
Afterward
he
had
taken
the
heads
of
every
stonemason
,
woodworker
,
and
builder
who
had
labored
on
it
.
Only
the
blood
of
the
dragon
would
ever
know
the
secrets
of
the
fortress
the
Dragonlords
had
built
,
he
vowed
.
Yet
now
the
banners
that
flew
from
its
battlements
were
golden
,
not
black
,
and
where
the
three-headed
dragon
had
once
breathed
fire
,
now
pranced
the
crowned
stag
of
House
Baratheon
.
