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- Джордж Мартин
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"
No
,
"
Bran
blurted
.
"
I
ca
n't
...
"
The
big
man
grabbed
his
reins
before
Bran
could
think
to
wheel
Dancer
around
and
gallop
off
.
"
You
can
,
lordling
...
and
will
,
if
you
know
what
's
good
for
you
.
"
"
Stiv
,
look
how
he
's
strapped
on
.
"
The
tall
woman
pointed
with
her
spear
.
"
Might
be
it
's
the
truth
he
's
telling
.
"
"
Straps
,
is
it
?
"
Stiv
said
.
He
drew
a
dagger
from
a
sheath
at
his
belt
.
"
There
's
ways
to
deal
with
straps
.
"
"
You
some
kind
of
cripple
?
"
asked
the
short
woman
.
Bran
flared
.
"
I
'm
Brandon
Stark
of
Winterfell
,
and
you
better
let
go
of
my
horse
,
or
I
'll
see
you
all
dead
.
"
The
gaunt
man
with
the
grey
stubbled
face
laughed
.
"
The
boy
's
a
Stark
,
true
enough
.
Only
a
Stark
would
be
fool
enough
to
threaten
where
smarter
men
would
beg
.
"
"
Cut
his
little
cock
off
and
stuff
it
in
his
mouth
,
"
suggested
the
short
woman
.
"
That
should
shut
him
up
.
"
"
You
're
as
stupid
as
you
are
ugly
,
Hali
,
"
said
the
tall
woman
.
"
The
boy
's
worth
nothing
dead
,
but
alive
...
gods
be
damned
,
think
what
Mance
would
give
to
have
Benjen
Stark
's
own
blood
to
hostage
!
"
"
Mance
be
damned
,
"
the
big
man
cursed
.
"
You
want
to
go
back
there
,
Osha
?
More
fool
you
.
Think
the
white
walkers
will
care
if
you
have
a
hostage
?
"
He
turned
back
to
Bran
and
slashed
at
the
strap
around
his
thigh
.
