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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 434/751
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"
They
burnt
us
out
,
"
a
farmer
beside
him
said
.
"
Come
riding
in
the
dark
,
up
from
the
south
,
and
fired
the
fields
and
the
houses
alike
,
killing
them
as
tried
to
stop
them
.
They
were
n't
no
raiders
,
though
,
m
'
lord
.
They
had
no
mind
to
steal
our
stock
,
not
these
,
they
butchered
my
milk
cow
where
she
stood
and
left
her
for
the
flies
and
the
crows
.
"
"
They
rode
down
my
'
prentice
boy
,
"
said
a
squat
man
with
a
smith
's
muscles
and
a
bandage
around
his
head
.
He
had
put
on
his
finest
clothes
to
come
to
court
,
but
his
breeches
were
patched
,
his
cloak
travel-stained
and
dusty
.
"
Chased
him
back
and
forth
across
the
fields
on
their
horses
,
poking
at
him
with
their
lances
like
it
was
a
game
,
them
laughing
and
the
boy
stumbling
and
screaming
till
the
big
one
pierced
him
clean
through
.
"
The
girl
on
her
knees
craned
her
head
up
at
Ned
,
high
above
her
on
the
throne
.
"
They
killed
my
mother
too
,
Your
Grace
.
And
they
...
they
...
"
Her
voice
trailed
off
,
as
if
she
had
forgotten
what
she
was
about
to
say
.
She
began
to
sob
.
Ser
Raymun
Darry
took
up
the
tale
.
"
At
Wendish
Town
,
the
people
sought
shelter
in
their
holdfast
,
but
the
walls
were
timbered
.
The
raiders
piled
straw
against
the
wood
and
burnt
them
all
alive
.
When
the
Wendish
folk
opened
their
gates
to
flee
the
fire
,
they
shot
them
down
with
arrows
as
they
came
running
out
,
even
women
with
suckling
babes
.
"
"
Oh
,
dreadful
,
"
murmured
Varys
.
"
How
cruel
can
men
be
?
"
"
They
would
of
done
the
same
for
us
,
but
the
Sherrer
holdfast
's
made
of
stone
,
"
Joss
said
.
"
Some
wanted
to
smoke
us
out
,
but
the
big
one
said
there
was
riper
fruit
upriver
,
and
they
made
for
the
Mummer
's
Ford
.
"
Ned
could
feel
cold
steel
against
his
fingers
as
he
leaned
forward
.
Between
each
finger
was
a
blade
,
the
points
of
twisted
swords
fanning
out
like
talons
from
arms
of
the
throne
.
Even
after
three
centuries
,
some
were
still
sharp
enough
to
cut
.
The
Iron
Throne
was
full
of
traps
for
the
unwary
.
The
songs
said
it
had
taken
a
thousand
blades
to
make
it
,
heated
white-hot
in
the
furnace
breath
of
Balerion
the
Black
Dread
.
The
hammering
had
taken
fifty-nine
days
.
The
end
of
it
was
this
hunched
black
beast
made
of
razor
edges
and
barbs
and
ribbons
of
sharp
metal
;
a
chair
that
could
kill
a
man
,
and
had
,
if
the
stories
could
be
believed
.
What
Eddard
Stark
was
doing
sitting
there
he
would
never
comprehend
,
yet
there
he
sat
,
and
these
people
looked
to
him
for
justice
.
"
What
proof
do
you
have
that
these
were
Lannisters
?
"
he
asked
,
trying
to
keep
his
fury
under
control
.
"
Did
they
wear
crimson
cloaks
or
fly
a
lion
banner
?
"
