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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 238/751
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Summer
followed
them
up
the
tower
steps
as
Hodor
carried
Bran
back
to
his
bed
.
Old
Nan
was
asleep
in
her
chair
.
Hodor
said
"
Hodor
,
"
gathered
up
his
great-grandmother
,
and
carried
her
off
,
snoring
softly
,
while
Bran
lay
thinking
.
Robb
had
promised
that
he
could
feast
with
the
Night
's
Watch
in
the
Great
Hall
.
"
Summer
,
"
he
called
.
The
wolf
bounded
up
on
the
bed
.
Bran
hugged
him
so
hard
he
could
feel
the
hot
breath
on
his
cheek
.
"
I
can
ride
now
,
"
he
whispered
to
his
friend
.
"
We
can
go
hunting
in
the
woods
soon
,
wait
and
see
.
"
After
a
time
he
slept
.
In
his
dream
he
was
climbing
again
,
pulling
himself
up
an
ancient
windowless
tower
,
his
fingers
forcing
themselves
between
blackened
stones
,
his
feet
scrabbling
for
purchase
.
Higher
and
higher
he
climbed
,
through
the
clouds
and
into
the
night
sky
,
and
still
the
tower
rose
before
him
.
When
he
paused
to
look
down
,
his
head
swam
dizzily
and
he
felt
his
fingers
slipping
.
Bran
cried
out
and
clung
for
dear
life
.
The
earth
was
a
thousand
miles
beneath
him
and
he
could
not
fly
.
He
could
not
fly
.
He
waited
until
his
heart
had
stopped
pounding
,
until
he
could
breathe
,
and
he
began
to
climb
again
.
There
was
no
way
to
go
but
up
.
Far
above
him
,
outlined
against
a
vast
pale
moon
,
he
thought
he
could
see
the
shapes
of
gargoyles
.
His
arms
were
sore
and
aching
,
but
he
dared
not
rest
.
He
forced
himself
to
climb
faster
.
The
gargoyles
watched
him
ascend
.
Their
eyes
glowed
red
as
hot
coals
in
a
brazier
.
Perhaps
once
they
had
been
lions
,
but
now
they
were
twisted
and
grotesque
.
Bran
could
hear
them
whispering
to
each
other
in
soft
stone
voices
terrible
to
hear
.
He
must
not
listen
,
he
told
himself
,
he
must
not
hear
,
so
long
as
he
did
not
hear
them
he
was
safe
.
But
when
the
gargoyles
pulled
themselves
loose
from
the
stone
and
padded
down
the
side
of
the
tower
to
where
Bran
clung
,
he
knew
he
was
not
safe
after
all
.
"
I
did
n't
hear
,
"
he
wept
as
they
came
closer
and
closer
,
"
I
did
n't
,
I
did
n't
.
"
He
woke
gasping
,
lost
in
darkness
,
and
saw
a
vast
shadow
looming
over
him
.
"
I
did
n't
hear
,
"
he
whispered
,
trembling
in
fear
,
but
then
the
shadow
said
"
Hodor
,
"
and
lit
the
candle
by
the
bedside
,
and
Bran
sighed
with
relief
.
Hodor
washed
the
sweat
from
him
with
a
warm
,
damp
cloth
and
dressed
him
with
deft
and
gentle
hands
.
When
it
was
time
,
he
carried
him
down
to
the
Great
Hall
,
where
a
long
trestle
table
had
been
set
up
near
the
fire
.
The
lord
's
seat
at
the
head
of
the
table
had
been
left
empty
,
but
Robb
sat
to
the
right
of
it
,
with
Bran
across
from
him
.
They
ate
suckling
pig
that
night
,
and
pigeon
pie
,
and
turnips
soaking
in
butter
,
and
afterward
the
cook
had
promised
honeycombs
.
Summer
snatched
table
scraps
from
Bran
's
hand
,
while
Grey
Wind
and
Shaggydog
fought
over
a
bone
in
the
corner
.
Winterfell
's
dogs
would
not
come
near
the
hall
now
.
Bran
had
found
that
strange
at
first
,
but
he
was
growing
used
to
it
.
Yoren
was
senior
among
the
black
brothers
,
so
the
steward
had
seated
him
between
Robb
and
Maester
Luwin
.
The
old
man
had
a
sour
smell
,
as
if
he
had
not
washed
in
a
long
time
.
He
ripped
at
the
meat
with
his
teeth
,
cracked
the
ribs
to
suck
out
the
marrow
from
the
bones
,
and
shrugged
at
the
mention
of
Jon
Snow
.
"
Ser
Alliser
's
bane
,
"
he
grunted
,
and
two
of
his
companions
shared
a
laugh
that
Bran
did
not
understand
.
But
when
Robb
asked
for
news
of
their
uncle
Benjen
,
the
black
brothers
grew
ominously
quiet
.
"
What
is
it
?
"
Bran
asked
.
Yoren
wiped
his
fingers
on
his
vest
.
"
There
's
hard
news
,
m
'
lords
,
and
a
cruel
way
to
pay
you
for
your
meat
and
mead
,
but
the
man
as
asks
the
question
must
bear
the
answer
.
Stark
's
gone
.
"
One
of
the
other
men
said
,
"
The
Old
Bear
sent
him
out
to
look
for
Waymar
Royce
,
and
he
's
late
returning
,
my
lord
.
"
