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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 267/751
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"
I
suppose
you
'd
best
begin
visiting
whorehouses
.
"
"
Hard
duty
,
my
lord
.
"
Jory
grinned
.
"
The
men
will
be
glad
to
help
.
Porther
has
made
a
fair
start
already
.
"
Ned
's
favorite
horse
was
saddled
and
waiting
in
the
yard
.
Varly
and
Jacks
fell
in
beside
him
as
he
rode
through
the
yard
.
Their
steel
caps
and
shirts
of
mail
must
have
been
sweltering
,
yet
they
said
no
word
of
complaint
.
As
Lord
Eddard
passed
beneath
the
King
's
Gate
into
the
stink
of
the
city
,
his
grey
and
white
cloak
streaming
from
his
shoulders
,
he
saw
eyes
everywhere
and
kicked
his
mount
into
a
trot
.
His
guard
followed
.
He
looked
behind
him
frequently
as
they
made
their
way
through
the
crowded
city
streets
.
Tomard
and
Desmond
had
left
the
castle
early
this
morning
to
take
up
positions
on
the
route
they
must
take
,
and
watch
for
anyone
following
them
,
but
even
so
,
Ned
was
uncertain
.
The
shadow
of
the
King
's
Spider
and
his
little
birds
had
him
fretting
like
a
maiden
on
her
wedding
night
.
The
Street
of
Steel
began
at
the
market
square
beside
the
River
Gate
,
as
it
was
named
on
maps
,
or
the
Mud
Gate
,
as
it
was
commonly
called
.
A
mummer
on
stilts
was
striding
through
the
throngs
like
some
great
insect
,
with
a
horde
of
barefoot
children
trailing
behind
him
,
hooting
.
Elsewhere
,
two
ragged
boys
no
older
than
Bran
were
dueling
with
sticks
,
to
the
loud
encouragement
of
some
and
the
furious
curses
of
others
.
An
old
woman
ended
the
contest
by
leaning
out
of
her
window
and
emptying
a
bucket
of
slops
on
the
heads
of
the
combatants
.
In
the
shadow
of
the
wall
,
farmers
stood
beside
their
wagons
,
bellowing
out
,
"
Apples
,
the
best
apples
,
cheap
at
twice
the
price
,
"
and
"
Blood
melons
,
sweet
as
honey
,
"
and
"
Turnips
,
onions
,
roots
,
here
you
go
here
,
here
you
go
,
turnips
,
onions
,
roots
,
here
you
go
here
.
"
The
Mud
Gate
was
open
,
and
a
squad
of
City
Watchmen
stood
under
the
portcullis
in
their
golden
cloaks
,
leaning
on
spears
.
When
a
column
of
riders
appeared
from
the
west
,
the
guardsmen
sprang
into
action
,
shouting
commands
and
moving
the
carts
and
foot
traffic
aside
to
let
the
knight
enter
with
his
escort
.
The
first
rider
through
the
gate
carried
a
long
black
banner
.
The
silk
rippled
in
the
wind
like
a
living
thing
;
across
the
fabric
was
blazoned
a
night
sky
slashed
with
purple
lightning
.
"
Make
way
for
Lord
Beric
!
"
the
rider
shouted
.
"
Make
way
for
Lord
Beric
!
"
And
close
behind
came
the
young
lord
himself
,
a
dashing
figure
on
a
black
courser
,
with
red-gold
hair
and
a
black
satin
cloak
dusted
with
stars
.
"
Here
to
fight
in
the
Hand
's
tourney
,
my
lord
?
"
a
guardsman
called
out
to
him
.
"
Here
to
win
the
Hand
's
tourney
,
"
Lord
Beric
shouted
back
as
the
crowd
cheered
.
Ned
turned
off
the
square
where
the
Street
of
Steel
began
and
followed
its
winding
path
up
a
long
hill
,
past
blacksmiths
working
at
open
forges
,
freeriders
haggling
over
mail
shirts
,
and
grizzled
ironmongers
selling
old
blades
and
razors
from
their
wagons
.
The
farther
they
climbed
,
the
larger
the
buildings
grew
.
The
man
they
wanted
was
all
the
way
at
the
top
of
the
hill
,
in
a
huge
house
of
timber
and
plaster
whose
upper
stories
loomed
over
the
narrow
street
.
The
double
doors
showed
a
hunting
scene
carved
in
ebony
and
weirwood
.
A
pair
of
stone
knights
stood
sentry
at
the
entrance
,
armored
in
fanciful
suits
of
polished
red
steel
that
transformed
them
into
griffin
and
unicorn
.
Ned
left
his
horse
with
Jacks
and
shouldered
his
way
inside
.
The
slim
young
serving
girl
took
quick
note
of
Ned
's
badge
and
the
sigil
on
his
doublet
,
and
the
master
came
hurrying
out
,
all
smiles
and
bows
.
"
Wine
for
the
King
's
Hand
,
"
he
told
the
girl
,
gesturing
Ned
to
a
couch
.
"
I
am
Tobho
Mott
,
my
lord
,
please
,
please
,
put
yourself
at
ease
.
"
He
wore
a
black
velvet
coat
with
hammers
embroidered
on
the
sleeves
in
silver
thread
,
Around
his
neck
was
a
heavy
silver
chain
and
a
sapphire
as
large
as
a
pigeon
's
egg
.
