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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 268/751
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"
If
you
are
in
need
of
new
arms
for
the
Hand
's
tourney
,
you
have
come
to
the
right
shop
.
"
Ned
did
not
bother
to
correct
him
.
"
My
work
is
costly
,
and
I
make
no
apologies
for
that
,
my
lord
,
"
he
said
as
he
filled
two
matching
silver
goblets
.
"
You
will
not
find
craftsmanship
equal
to
mine
anywhere
in
the
Seven
Kingdoms
,
I
promise
you
.
Visit
every
forge
in
King
's
Landing
if
you
like
,
and
compare
for
yourself
.
Any
village
smith
can
hammer
out
a
shirt
of
mail
;
my
work
is
art
.
"
Ned
sipped
his
wine
and
let
the
man
go
on
.
The
Knight
of
Flowers
bought
all
his
armor
here
,
Tobho
boasted
,
and
many
high
lords
,
the
ones
who
knew
fine
steel
,
and
even
Lord
Renly
,
the
king
's
own
brother
.
Perhaps
the
Hand
had
seen
Lord
Renly
's
new
armor
,
the
green
plate
with
the
golden
antlers
?
No
other
armorer
in
the
city
could
get
that
deep
a
green
;
he
knew
the
secret
of
putting
color
in
the
steel
itself
,
paint
and
enamel
were
the
crutches
of
a
journeyman
.
Or
mayhaps
the
Hand
wanted
a
blade
?
Tobho
had
learned
to
work
Valyrian
steel
at
the
forges
of
Qohor
as
a
boy
.
Only
a
man
who
knew
the
spells
could
take
old
weapons
and
forge
them
anew
.
"
The
direwolf
is
the
sigil
of
House
Stark
,
is
it
not
?
I
could
fashion
a
direwolf
helm
so
real
that
children
will
run
from
you
in
the
street
,
"
he
vowed
.
Ned
smiled
.
"
Did
you
make
a
falcon
helm
for
Lord
Arryn
?
"
Tobho
Mott
paused
a
long
moment
and
set
aside
his
wine
.
"
The
Hand
did
call
upon
me
,
with
Lord
Stannis
,
the
king
's
brother
.
I
regret
to
say
,
they
did
not
honor
me
with
their
patronage
.
"
Ned
looked
at
the
man
evenly
,
saying
nothing
,
waiting
.
He
had
found
over
the
years
that
silence
sometimes
yielded
more
than
questions
.
And
so
it
was
this
time
.
"
They
asked
to
see
the
boy
,
"
the
armorer
said
,
"
so
I
took
them
back
to
the
forge
.
"
"
The
boy
,
"
Ned
echoed
.
He
had
no
notion
who
the
boy
might
be
.
"
I
should
like
to
see
the
boy
as
well
.
"
Tobho
Mott
gave
him
a
cool
,
careful
look
.
"
As
you
wish
,
my
lord
,
"
he
said
with
no
trace
of
his
former
friendliness
.
He
led
Ned
out
a
rear
door
and
across
a
narrow
yard
,
back
to
the
cavernous
stone
barn
where
the
work
was
done
.
When
the
armorer
opened
the
door
,
the
blast
of
hot
air
that
came
through
made
Ned
feel
as
though
he
were
walking
into
a
dragon
's
mouth
.
Inside
,
a
forge
blazed
in
each
corner
,
and
the
air
stank
of
smoke
and
sulfur
.
Journeymen
armorers
glanced
up
from
their
hammers
and
tongs
just
long
enough
to
wipe
the
sweat
from
their
brows
,
while
bare-chested
apprentice
boys
worked
the
bellows
.
The
master
called
over
a
tall
lad
about
Robb
's
age
,
his
arms
and
chest
corded
with
muscle
.
"
This
is
Lord
Stark
,
the
new
Hand
of
the
King
,
"
he
told
him
as
the
boy
looked
at
Ned
through
sullen
blue
eyes
and
pushed
back
sweat-soaked
hair
with
his
fingers
.
Thick
hair
,
shaggy
and
unkempt
and
black
as
ink
.
The
shadow
of
a
new
beard
darkened
his
jaw
.
"
This
is
Gendry
.
Strong
for
his
age
,
and
he
works
hard
.
Show
the
Hand
that
helmet
you
made
,
lad
.
"
Almost
shyly
,
the
boy
led
them
to
his
bench
,
and
a
steel
helm
shaped
like
a
bull
's
head
,
with
two
great
curving
horns
.
