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- Джордж Мартин
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Ned
saw
the
dread
on
her
face
.
"
Mance
Rayder
is
nothing
for
us
to
fear
.
"
"
There
are
darker
things
beyond
the
Wall
.
"
She
glanced
behind
her
at
the
heart
tree
,
the
pale
bark
and
red
eyes
,
watching
,
listening
,
thinking
its
long
slow
thoughts
.
His
smile
was
gentle
.
"
You
listen
to
too
many
of
Old
Nan
's
stories
.
The
Others
are
as
dead
as
the
children
of
the
forest
,
gone
eight
thousand
years
.
Maester
Luwin
will
tell
you
they
never
lived
at
all
.
No
living
man
has
ever
seen
one
.
"
"
Until
this
morning
,
no
living
man
had
ever
seen
a
direwolf
either
,
"
Catelyn
reminded
him
.
"
I
ought
to
know
better
than
to
argue
with
a
Tully
,
"
he
said
with
a
rueful
smile
.
He
slid
Ice
back
into
its
sheath
.
"
You
did
not
come
here
to
tell
me
crib
tales
.
I
know
how
little
you
like
this
place
.
What
is
it
,
my
lady
?
"
Catelyn
took
her
husband
's
hand
.
"
There
was
grievous
news
today
,
my
lord
.
I
did
not
wish
to
trouble
you
until
you
had
cleansed
yourself
.
"
There
was
no
way
to
soften
the
blow
,
so
she
told
him
straight
.
"
I
am
so
sorry
,
my
love
.
Jon
Arryn
is
dead
.
"
His
eyes
found
hers
,
and
she
could
see
how
hard
it
took
him
,
as
she
had
known
it
would
.
In
his
youth
,
Ned
had
fostered
at
the
Eyrie
,
and
the
childless
Lord
Arryn
had
become
a
second
father
to
him
and
his
fellow
ward
,
Robert
Baratheon
.
When
the
Mad
King
Aerys
II
Targaryen
had
demanded
their
heads
,
the
Lord
of
the
Eyrie
had
raised
his
moon-and-falcon
banners
in
revolt
rather
than
give
up
those
he
had
pledged
to
protect
.
And
one
day
fifteen
years
ago
,
this
second
father
had
become
a
brother
as
well
,
as
he
and
Ned
stood
together
in
the
sept
at
Riverrun
to
wed
two
sisters
,
the
daughters
of
Lord
Hoster
Tully
.
"
Jon
...
"
he
said
.
"
Is
this
news
certain
?
"
