-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Мартин
-
- Игра престолов
-
- Стр. 2/751
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Will
shared
his
unease
.
He
had
been
four
years
on
the
Wall
.
The
first
time
he
had
been
sent
beyond
,
all
the
old
stories
had
come
rushing
back
,
and
his
bowels
had
turned
to
water
.
He
had
laughed
about
it
afterward
.
He
was
a
veteran
of
a
hundred
rangings
by
now
,
and
the
endless
dark
wilderness
that
the
southron
called
the
haunted
forest
had
no
more
terrors
for
him
.
Until
tonight
.
Something
was
different
tonight
.
There
was
an
edge
to
this
darkness
that
made
his
hackles
rise
.
Nine
days
they
had
been
riding
,
north
and
northwest
and
then
north
again
,
farther
and
farther
from
the
Wall
,
hard
on
the
track
of
a
band
of
wildling
raiders
.
Each
day
had
been
worse
than
the
day
that
had
come
before
it
.
Today
was
the
worst
of
all
.
A
cold
wind
was
blowing
out
of
the
north
,
and
it
made
the
trees
rustle
like
living
things
.
All
day
,
Will
had
felt
as
though
something
were
watching
him
,
something
cold
and
implacable
that
loved
him
not
.
Gared
had
felt
it
too
.
Will
wanted
nothing
so
much
as
to
ride
hellbent
for
the
safety
of
the
Wall
,
but
that
was
not
a
feeling
to
share
with
your
commander
.
Especially
not
a
commander
like
this
one
.
Ser
Waymar
Royce
was
the
youngest
son
of
an
ancient
house
with
too
many
heirs
.
He
was
a
handsome
youth
of
eighteen
,
grey-eyed
and
graceful
and
slender
as
a
knife
.
Mounted
on
his
huge
black
destrier
,
the
knight
towered
above
Will
and
Gared
on
their
smaller
garrons
.
He
wore
black
leather
boots
,
black
woolen
pants
,
black
moleskin
gloves
,
and
a
fine
supple
coat
of
gleaming
black
ringmail
over
layers
of
black
wool
and
boiled
leather
.
Ser
Waymar
had
been
a
Sworn
Brother
of
the
Night
's
Watch
for
less
than
half
a
year
,
but
no
one
could
say
he
had
not
prepared
for
his
vocation
.
At
least
insofar
as
his
wardrobe
was
concerned
.
His
cloak
was
his
crowning
glory
;
sable
,
thick
and
black
and
soft
as
sin
.
"
Bet
he
killed
them
all
himself
,
he
did
,
"
Gared
told
the
barracks
over
wine
,
"
twisted
their
little
heads
off
,
our
mighty
warrior
.
"
They
had
all
shared
the
laugh
.
It
is
hard
to
take
orders
from
a
man
you
laughed
at
in
your
cups
,
Will
reflected
as
he
sat
shivering
atop
his
garron
.
Gared
must
have
felt
the
same
.
"
Mormont
said
as
we
should
track
them
,
and
we
did
,
"
Gared
said
.
"
They
're
dead
.
They
sha
n't
trouble
us
no
more
.
There
's
hard
riding
before
us
.
I
do
n't
like
this
weather
.
If
it
snows
,
we
could
be
a
fortnight
getting
back
,
and
snow
's
the
best
we
can
hope
for
.
Ever
seen
an
ice
storm
,
my
lord
?
"
The
lordling
seemed
not
to
hear
him
.
He
studied
the
deepening
twilight
in
that
half-bored
,
half-distracted
way
he
had
.
Will
had
ridden
with
the
knight
long
enough
to
understand
that
it
was
best
not
to
interrupt
him
when
he
looked
like
that
.
"
Tell
me
again
what
you
saw
,
Will
.
All
the
details
.
Leave
nothing
out
.
"
Will
had
been
a
hunter
before
he
joined
the
Night
's
Watch
.
Well
,
a
poacher
in
truth
.