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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Yes
,
life
,
"
Noye
said
.
"
A
long
life
or
a
short
one
,
it
's
up
to
you
,
Snow
.
The
road
you
're
walking
,
one
of
your
brothers
will
slit
your
throat
for
you
one
night
.
"
"
They
're
not
my
brothers
,
"
Jon
snapped
.
"
They
hate
me
because
I
'm
better
than
they
are
.
"
"
No
.
They
hate
you
because
you
act
like
you
're
better
than
they
are
.
They
look
at
you
and
see
a
castle-bred
bastard
who
thinks
he
's
a
lordling
.
"
The
armorer
leaned
close
.
"
You
're
no
lordling
.
Remember
that
.
You
're
a
Snow
,
not
a
Stark
.
You
're
a
bastard
and
a
bully
.
"
"
A
bully
?
"
Jon
almost
choked
on
the
word
.
The
accusation
was
so
unjust
it
took
his
breath
away
.
"
They
were
the
ones
who
came
after
me
.
Four
of
them
.
"
"
Four
that
you
've
humiliated
in
the
yard
.
Four
who
are
probably
afraid
of
you
.
I
've
watched
you
fight
.
It
's
not
training
with
you
.
Put
a
good
edge
on
your
sword
,
and
they
'd
be
dead
meat
;
you
know
it
,
I
know
it
,
they
know
it
.
You
leave
them
nothing
.
You
shame
them
.
Does
that
make
you
proud
?
"
Jon
hesitated
.
He
did
feel
proud
when
he
won
.
Why
should
n't
he
?
But
the
armorer
was
taking
that
away
too
,
making
it
sound
as
if
he
were
doing
something
wrong
.
"
They
're
all
older
than
me
,
"
he
said
defensively
.
"
Older
and
bigger
and
stronger
,
that
's
the
truth
.
I
'll
wager
your
master-at-arms
taught
you
how
to
fight
bigger
men
at
Winterfell
,
though
.
Who
was
he
,
some
old
knight
?
"
"
Ser
Rodrik
Cassel
,
"
Jon
said
warily
.
There
was
a
trap
here
.
He
felt
it
closing
around
him
.
Donal
Noye
leaned
forward
,
into
Jon
's
face
.
"
Now
think
on
this
,
boy
.
None
of
these
others
have
ever
had
a
master-at-arms
until
Ser
Alliser
.
Their
fathers
were
farmers
and
wagonmen
and
poachers
,
smiths
and
miners
and
oars
on
a
trading
galley
.
What
they
know
of
fighting
they
learned
between
decks
,
in
the
alleys
of
Oldtown
and
Lannisport
,
in
wayside
brothels
and
taverns
on
the
kingsroad
.
They
may
have
clacked
a
few
sticks
together
before
they
came
here
,
but
I
promise
you
,
not
one
in
twenty
was
ever
rich
enough
to
own
a
real
sword
.
"
His
look
was
grim
.
"
So
how
do
you
like
the
taste
of
your
victories
now
,
Lord
Snow
?
"
