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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 286/751
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"
No
one
could
withstand
him
,
"
the
Hound
rasped
.
"
That
's
truth
enough
.
No
one
could
ever
withstand
Gregor
.
That
boy
today
,
his
second
joust
,
oh
,
that
was
a
pretty
bit
of
business
.
You
saw
that
,
did
you
?
Fool
boy
,
he
had
no
business
riding
in
this
company
.
No
money
,
no
squire
,
no
one
to
help
him
with
that
armor
.
That
gorget
was
n't
fastened
proper
.
You
think
Gregor
did
n't
notice
that
?
You
think
Ser
Gregor
's
lance
rode
up
by
chance
,
do
you
?
Pretty
little
talking
girl
,
you
believe
that
,
you
're
empty-headed
as
a
bird
for
true
.
Gregor
's
lance
goes
where
Gregor
wants
it
to
go
.
Look
at
me
.
Look
at
me
!
"
Sandor
Clegane
put
a
huge
hand
under
her
chin
and
forced
her
face
up
.
He
squatted
in
front
of
her
,
and
moved
the
torch
close
.
"
There
's
a
pretty
for
you
.
Take
a
good
long
stare
.
You
know
you
want
to
.
I
've
watched
you
turning
away
all
the
way
down
the
kingsroad
.
Piss
on
that
.
Take
your
look
.
"
His
fingers
held
her
jaw
as
hard
as
an
iron
trap
.
His
eyes
watched
hers
.
Drunken
eyes
,
sullen
with
anger
.
She
had
to
look
.
The
right
side
of
his
face
was
gaunt
,
with
sharp
cheekbones
and
a
grey
eye
beneath
a
heavy
brow
.
His
nose
was
large
and
hooked
,
his
hair
thin
,
dark
.
He
wore
it
long
and
brushed
it
sideways
,
because
no
hair
grew
on
the
other
side
of
that
face
.
The
left
side
of
his
face
was
a
ruin
.
His
ear
had
been
burned
away
;
there
was
nothing
left
but
a
hole
.
His
eye
was
still
good
,
but
all
around
it
was
a
twisted
mass
of
scar
,
slick
black
flesh
hard
as
leather
,
pocked
with
craters
and
fissured
by
deep
cracks
that
gleamed
red
and
wet
when
he
moved
.
Down
by
his
jaw
,
you
could
see
a
hint
of
bone
where
the
flesh
had
been
seared
away
.
Sansa
began
to
cry
.
He
let
go
of
her
then
,
and
snuffed
out
the
torch
in
the
dirt
.
"
No
pretty
words
for
that
,
girl
?
No
little
compliment
the
septa
taught
you
?
"
When
there
was
no
answer
,
he
continued
.
"
Most
of
them
,
they
think
it
was
some
battle
.
A
siege
,
a
burning
tower
,
an
enemy
with
a
torch
.
One
fool
asked
if
it
was
dragonsbreath
.
"
His
laugh
was
softer
this
time
,
but
just
as
bitter
.
"
I
'll
tell
you
what
it
was
,
girl
,
"
he
said
,
a
voice
from
the
night
,
a
shadow
leaning
so
close
now
that
she
could
smell
the
sour
stench
of
wine
on
his
breath
.
"
I
was
younger
than
you
,
six
,
maybe
seven
.
A
woodcarver
set
up
shop
in
the
village
under
my
father
's
keep
,
and
to
buy
favor
he
sent
us
gifts
.
The
old
man
made
marvelous
toys
.
I
do
n't
remember
what
I
got
,
but
it
was
Gregor
's
gift
I
wanted
.
A
wooden
knight
,
all
painted
up
,
every
joint
pegged
separate
and
fixed
with
strings
,
so
you
could
make
him
fight
.
Gregor
is
five
years
older
than
me
,
the
toy
was
nothing
to
him
,
he
was
already
a
squire
,
near
six
foot
tall
and
muscled
like
an
ox
.
So
I
took
his
knight
,
but
there
was
no
joy
to
it
,
I
tell
you
.
I
was
scared
all
the
while
,
and
true
enough
,
he
found
me
.
There
was
a
brazier
in
the
room
.
Gregor
never
said
a
word
,
just
picked
me
up
under
his
arm
and
shoved
the
side
of
my
face
down
in
the
burning
coals
and
held
me
there
while
I
screamed
and
screamed
.
You
saw
how
strong
he
is
.
Even
then
,
it
took
three
grown
men
to
drag
him
off
me
.
The
septons
preach
about
the
seven
hells
.
What
do
they
know
?
Only
a
man
who
's
been
burned
knows
what
hell
is
truly
like
.
"
My
father
told
everyone
my
bedding
had
caught
fire
,
and
our
maester
gave
me
ointments
.
Ointments
!
Gregor
got
his
ointments
too
.
Four
years
later
,
they
anointed
him
with
the
seven
oils
and
he
recited
his
knightly
vows
and
Rhaegar
Targaryen
tapped
him
on
the
shoulder
and
said
,
'
Arise
,
Ser
Gregor
.
'
"
The
rasping
voice
trailed
off
He
squatted
silently
before
her
,
a
hulking
black
shape
shrouded
in
the
night
,
hidden
from
her
eyes
.
Sansa
could
hear
his
ragged
breathing
.
She
was
sad
for
him
,
she
realized
.
Somehow
,
the
fear
had
gone
away
.
