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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 171/751
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"
I
would
have
told
you
that
there
was
only
one
knife
like
this
at
King
's
Landing
.
"
He
grasped
the
blade
between
thumb
and
forefinger
,
drew
it
back
over
his
shoulder
,
and
threw
it
across
the
room
with
a
practiced
flick
of
his
wrist
.
It
struck
the
door
and
buried
itself
deep
in
the
oak
,
quivering
.
"
It
's
mine
.
"
"
Yours
?
"
It
made
no
sense
.
Petyr
had
not
been
at
Winterfell
.
"
Until
the
tourney
on
Prince
Joffrey
's
name
day
,
"
he
said
,
crossing
the
room
to
wrench
the
dagger
from
the
wood
.
"
I
backed
Ser
Jaime
in
the
jousting
,
along
with
half
the
court
.
"
Petyr
's
sheepish
grin
made
him
look
half
a
boy
again
.
"
When
Loras
Tyrell
unhorsed
him
,
many
of
us
became
a
trifle
poorer
.
Ser
Jaime
lost
a
hundred
golden
dragons
,
the
queen
lost
an
emerald
pendant
,
and
I
lost
my
knife
.
Her
Grace
got
the
emerald
back
,
but
the
winner
kept
the
rest
.
"
"
Who
?
"
Catelyn
demanded
,
her
mouth
dry
with
fear
.
Her
fingers
ached
with
remembered
pain
.
"
The
Imp
,
"
said
Littlefinger
as
Lord
Varys
watched
her
face
.
"
Tyrion
Lannister
.
"
The
courtyard
rang
to
the
song
of
swords
.
Under
black
wool
,
boiled
leather
,
and
mail
,
sweat
trickled
icily
down
Jon
's
chest
as
he
pressed
the
attack
.
Grenn
stumbled
backward
,
defending
himself
clumsily
.
When
he
raised
his
sword
,
Jon
went
underneath
it
with
a
sweeping
blow
that
crunched
against
the
back
of
the
other
boy
's
leg
and
sent
him
staggering
.
Grenn
's
downcut
was
answered
by
an
overhand
that
dented
his
helm
.
When
he
tried
a
sideswing
,
Jon
swept
aside
his
blade
and
slammed
a
mailed
forearm
into
his
chest
.
Grenn
lost
his
footing
and
sat
down
hard
in
the
snow
.
Jon
knocked
his
sword
from
his
fingers
with
a
slash
to
his
wrist
that
brought
a
cry
of
pain
.
"
Enough
!
"
Ser
Alliser
Thorne
had
a
voice
with
an
edge
like
Valyrian
steel
.
Grenn
cradled
his
hand
.
"
The
bastard
broke
my
wrist
.
"
