-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Мартин
-
- Игра престолов
-
- Стр. 296/751
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
His
courser
was
as
slim
as
her
rider
,
a
beautiful
grey
mare
,
built
for
speed
.
Ser
Gregor
's
huge
stallion
trumpeted
as
he
caught
her
scent
.
The
boy
from
Highgarden
did
something
with
his
legs
,
and
his
horse
pranced
sideways
,
nimble
as
a
dancer
.
Sansa
clutched
at
his
arm
.
"
Father
,
do
n't
let
Ser
Gregor
hurt
him
,
"
she
said
.
Ned
saw
she
was
wearing
the
rose
that
Ser
Loras
had
given
her
yesterday
.
Jory
had
told
him
about
that
as
well
.
"
These
are
tourney
lances
,
"
he
told
his
daughter
.
"
They
make
them
to
splinter
on
impact
,
so
no
one
is
hurt
.
"
Yet
he
remembered
the
dead
boy
in
the
cart
with
his
cloak
of
crescent
moons
,
and
the
words
were
raw
in
his
throat
.
Ser
Gregor
was
having
trouble
controlling
his
horse
.
The
stallion
was
screaming
and
pawing
the
ground
,
shaking
his
head
.
The
Mountain
kicked
at
the
animal
savagely
with
an
armored
boot
.
The
horse
reared
and
almost
threw
him
.
The
Knight
of
Flowers
saluted
the
king
,
rode
to
the
far
end
of
the
list
,
and
couched
his
lance
,
ready
.
Ser
Gregor
brought
his
animal
to
the
line
,
fighting
with
the
reins
.
And
suddenly
it
began
.
The
Mountain
's
stallion
broke
in
a
hard
gallop
,
plunging
forward
wildly
,
while
the
mare
charged
as
smooth
as
a
flow
of
silk
.
Ser
Gregor
wrenched
his
shield
into
position
,
juggled
with
his
lance
,
and
all
the
while
fought
to
hold
his
unruly
mount
on
a
straight
line
,
and
suddenly
Loras
Tyrell
was
on
him
,
placing
the
point
of
his
lance
just
there
,
and
in
an
eye
blink
the
Mountain
was
failing
.
He
was
so
huge
that
he
took
his
horse
down
with
him
in
a
tangle
of
steel
and
flesh
.
Ned
heard
applause
,
cheers
,
whistles
,
shocked
gasps
,
excited
muttering
,
and
over
it
all
the
rasping
,
raucous
laughter
of
the
Hound
.
The
Knight
of
Flowers
reined
up
at
the
end
of
the
lists
.
His
lance
was
not
even
broken
.
His
sapphires
winked
in
the
sun
as
he
raised
his
visor
,
smiling
.
The
commons
went
mad
for
him
.
In
the
middle
of
the
field
,
Ser
Gregor
Clegane
disentangled
himself
and
came
boiling
to
his
feet
.
He
wrenched
off
his
helm
and
slammed
it
down
onto
the
ground
.
His
face
was
dark
with
fury
and
his
hair
fell
down
into
his
eyes
.
"
My
sword
,
"
he
shouted
to
his
squire
,
and
the
boy
ran
it
out
to
him
.
By
then
his
stallion
was
back
on
its
feet
as
well
.
Gregor
Clegane
killed
the
horse
with
a
single
blow
of
such
ferocity
that
it
half
severed
the
animal
's
neck
.
Cheers
turned
to
shrieks
in
a
heartbeat
.
The
stallion
went
to
its
knees
,
screaming
as
it
died
.
By
then
Gregor
was
striding
down
the
lists
toward
Ser
Loras
Tyrell
,
his
bloody
sword
clutched
in
his
fist
.
"
Stop
him
!
"
Ned
shouted
,
but
his
words
were
lost
in
the
roar
.
Everyone
else
was
yelling
as
well
,
and
Sansa
was
crying
.
It
all
happened
so
fast
.
The
Knight
of
Flowers
was
shouting
for
his
own
sword
as
Ser
Gregor
knocked
his
squire
aside
and
made
a
grab
for
the
reins
of
his
horse
.
The
mare
scented
blood
and
reared
.
Loras
Tyrell
kept
his
seat
,
but
barely
.
Ser
Gregor
swung
his
sword
,
a
savage
two-handed
blow
that
took
the
boy
in
the
chest
and
knocked
him
from
the
saddle
.
The
courser
dashed
away
in
panic
as
Ser
Loras
lay
stunned
in
the
dirt
.
But
as
Gregor
lifted
his
sword
for
the
killing
blow
,
a
rasping
voice
warned
,
"
Leave
him
be
,
"
and
a
steel-clad
hand
wrenched
him
away
from
the
boy
.
