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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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Something
in
his
tone
made
Bran
even
more
fearful
.
"
What
will
you
do
?
"
he
asked
as
Theon
Greyjoy
reined
in
beside
them
.
"
Theon
thinks
I
should
call
the
banners
,
"
Robb
said
.
"
Blood
for
blood
.
"
For
once
Greyjoy
did
not
smile
.
His
lean
,
dark
face
had
a
hungry
look
to
it
,
and
black
hair
fell
down
across
his
eyes
.
"
Only
the
lord
can
call
the
banners
,
"
Bran
said
as
the
snow
drifted
down
around
them
.
"
If
your
father
dies
,
"
Theon
said
,
"
Robb
will
be
Lord
of
Winterfell
.
"
"
He
wo
n't
die
!
"
Bran
screamed
at
him
.
Robb
took
his
hand
.
"
He
wo
n't
die
,
not
Father
,
"
he
said
calmly
.
"
Still
...
the
honor
of
the
north
is
in
my
hands
now
.
When
our
lord
father
took
his
leave
of
us
,
he
told
me
to
be
strong
for
you
and
for
Rickon
.
I
'm
almost
a
man
grown
,
Bran
.
"
Bran
shivered
.
"
I
wish
Mother
was
back
,
"
he
said
miserably
.
He
looked
around
for
Maester
Luwin
;
his
donkey
was
visible
in
the
far
distance
,
trotting
over
a
rise
.
"
Does
Maester
Luwin
say
to
call
the
banners
too
?
"
"
The
maester
is
timid
as
an
old
woman
,
"
said
Theon
.
