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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 258/751
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"
Sometimes
I
dream
about
it
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
'm
walking
down
this
long
empty
hall
.
My
voice
echoes
all
around
,
but
no
one
answers
,
so
I
walk
faster
,
opening
doors
,
shouting
names
.
I
do
n't
even
know
who
I
'm
looking
for
.
Most
nights
it
's
my
father
,
but
sometimes
it
's
Robb
instead
,
or
my
little
sister
Arya
,
or
my
uncle
.
"
The
thought
of
Benjen
Stark
saddened
him
;
his
uncle
was
still
missing
.
The
Old
Bear
had
sent
out
rangers
in
search
of
him
.
Ser
Jaremy
Rykker
had
led
two
sweeps
,
and
Quorin
Halfhand
had
gone
forth
from
the
Shadow
Tower
,
but
they
'd
found
nothing
aside
from
a
few
blazes
in
the
trees
that
his
uncle
had
left
to
mark
his
way
.
In
the
stony
highlands
to
the
northwest
,
the
marks
stopped
abruptly
and
all
trace
of
Ben
Stark
vanished
.
"
Do
you
ever
find
anyone
in
your
dream
?
"
Sam
asked
.
Jon
shook
his
head
.
"
No
one
.
The
castle
is
always
empty
.
"
He
had
never
told
anyone
of
the
dream
,
and
he
did
not
understand
why
he
was
telling
Sam
now
,
yet
somehow
it
felt
good
to
talk
of
it
.
"
Even
the
ravens
are
gone
from
the
rookery
,
and
the
stables
are
full
of
bones
.
That
always
scares
me
.
I
start
to
run
then
,
throwing
open
doors
,
climbing
the
tower
three
steps
at
a
time
,
screaming
for
someone
,
for
anyone
.
And
then
I
find
myself
in
front
of
the
door
to
the
crypts
.
It
's
black
inside
,
and
I
can
see
the
steps
spiraling
down
.
Somehow
I
know
I
have
to
go
down
there
,
but
I
do
n't
want
to
.
I
'm
afraid
of
what
might
be
waiting
for
me
.
The
old
Kings
of
Winter
are
down
there
,
sitting
on
their
thrones
with
stone
wolves
at
their
feet
and
iron
swords
across
their
laps
,
but
it
's
not
them
I
'm
afraid
of
.
I
scream
that
I
'm
not
a
Stark
,
that
this
is
n't
my
place
,
but
it
's
no
good
,
I
have
to
go
anyway
,
so
I
start
down
,
feeling
the
walls
as
I
descend
,
with
no
torch
to
light
the
way
.
It
gets
darker
and
darker
,
until
I
want
to
scream
.
"
He
stopped
,
frowning
,
embarrassed
.
"
That
's
when
I
always
wake
.
"
His
skin
cold
and
clammy
,
shivering
in
the
darkness
of
his
cell
.
Ghost
would
leap
up
beside
him
,
his
warmth
as
comforting
as
daybreak
.
He
would
go
back
to
sleep
with
his
face
pressed
into
the
direwolf
s
shaggy
white
fur
.
"
Do
you
dream
of
Horn
Hill
?
"
Jon
asked
.
"
No
.
"
Sam
's
mouth
grew
tight
and
hard
.
"
I
hated
it
there
.
"
He
scratched
Ghost
behind
the
ear
,
brooding
,
and
Jon
let
the
silence
breathe
.
After
a
long
while
Samwell
Tarly
began
to
talk
,
and
Jon
Snow
listened
quietly
,
and
learned
how
it
was
that
a
self-confessed
coward
found
himself
on
the
Wall
.
The
Tarlys
were
a
family
old
in
honor
,
bannermen
to
Mace
Tyrell
,
Lord
of
Highgarden
and
Warden
of
the
South
.
The
eldest
son
of
Lord
Randyll
Tarly
,
Samwell
was
born
heir
to
rich
lands
,
a
strong
keep
,
and
a
storied
two-handed
greatsword
named
Heartsbane
,
forged
of
Valyrian
steel
and
passed
down
from
father
to
son
near
five
hundred
years
.
Whatever
pride
his
lord
father
might
have
felt
at
Samwell
's
birth
vanished
as
the
boy
grew
up
plump
,
soft
,
and
awkward
.
Sam
loved
to
listen
to
music
and
make
his
own
songs
,
to
wear
soft
velvets
,
to
play
in
the
castle
kitchen
beside
the
cooks
,
drinking
in
the
rich
smells
as
he
snitched
lemon
cakes
and
blueberry
tarts
.
His
passions
were
books
and
kittens
and
dancing
,
clumsy
as
he
was
.
But
he
grew
ill
at
the
sight
of
blood
,
and
wept
to
see
even
a
chicken
slaughtered
.
A
dozen
masters-at-arms
came
and
went
at
Horn
Hill
,
trying
to
turn
Samwell
into
the
knight
his
father
wanted
.
The
boy
was
cursed
and
caned
,
slapped
and
starved
.
One
man
had
him
sleep
in
his
chainmail
to
make
him
more
martial
.
Another
dressed
him
in
his
mother
's
clothing
and
paraded
him
through
the
bailey
to
shame
him
into
valor
.
He
only
grew
fatter
and
more
frightened
,
until
Lord
Randyll
's
disappointment
turned
to
anger
and
then
to
loathing
.
"
One
time
,
"
Sam
confided
,
his
voice
dropping
from
a
whisper
,
"
two
men
came
to
the
castle
,
warlocks
from
Qarth
with
white
skin
and
blue
lips
.
They
slaughtered
a
bull
aurochs
and
made
me
bathe
in
the
hot
blood
,
but
it
did
n't
make
me
brave
as
they
'd
promised
.
I
got
sick
and
retched
.
Father
had
them
scourged
.
"
Finally
,
after
three
girls
in
as
many
years
,
Lady
Tarly
gave
her
lord
husband
a
second
son
.
From
that
day
,
Lord
Randyll
ignored
Sam
,
devoting
all
his
time
to
the
younger
boy
,
a
fierce
,
robust
child
more
to
his
liking
.
Samwell
had
known
several
years
of
sweet
peace
with
his
music
and
his
books
.
Until
the
dawn
of
his
fifteenth
name
day
,
when
he
had
been
awakened
to
find
his
horse
saddled
and
ready
.
Three
men-at-arms
had
escorted
him
into
a
wood
near
Horn
Hill
,
where
his
father
was
skinning
a
deer
.
"
You
are
almost
a
man
grown
now
,
and
my
heir
,
"
Lord
Randyll
Tarly
had
told
his
eldest
son
,
his
long
knife
laying
bare
the
carcass
as
he
spoke
.
"
You
have
given
me
no
cause
to
disown
you
,
but
neither
will
I
allow
you
to
inherit
the
land
and
title
that
should
be
Dickon
's
.
Heartsbane
must
go
to
a
man
strong
enough
to
wield
her
,
and
you
are
not
worthy
to
touch
her
hilt
.
So
I
have
decided
that
you
shall
this
day
announce
that
you
wish
to
take
the
black
.
You
will
forsake
all
claim
to
your
brother
's
inheritance
and
start
north
before
evenfall
.
"
If
you
do
not
,
then
on
the
morrow
we
shall
have
a
hunt
,
and
somewhere
in
these
woods
your
horse
will
stumble
,
and
you
will
be
thrown
from
the
saddle
to
die
...
or
so
I
will
tell
your
mother
.
She
has
a
woman
's
heart
and
finds
it
in
her
to
cherish
even
you
,
and
I
have
no
wish
to
cause
her
pain
.
Please
do
not
imagine
that
it
will
truly
be
that
easy
,
should
you
think
to
defy
me
.
Nothing
would
please
me
more
than
to
hunt
you
down
like
the
pig
you
are
.
"
His
arms
were
red
to
the
elbow
as
he
laid
the
skinning
knife
aside
.
"
So
.
There
is
your
choice
.
The
Night
's
Watch
"
--
he
reached
inside
the
deer
,
ripped
out
its
heart
,
and
held
it
in
his
fist
,
red
and
dripping
--
"
or
this
.
"
