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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 468/751
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Eddard
Stark
jerked
upright
,
his
heart
racing
,
the
blankets
tangled
around
him
.
The
room
was
black
as
pitch
,
and
someone
was
hammering
on
the
door
.
"
Lord
Eddard
,
"
a
voice
called
loudly
.
"
A
moment
.
"
Groggy
and
naked
,
he
stumbled
his
way
across
the
darkened
chamber
.
When
he
opened
the
door
,
he
found
Tomard
with
an
upraised
fist
,
and
Cayn
with
a
taper
in
hand
.
Between
them
stood
the
king
's
own
steward
.
The
man
's
face
might
have
been
carved
of
stone
,
so
little
did
it
show
.
"
My
lord
Hand
,
"
he
intoned
.
"
His
Grace
the
King
commands
your
presence
.
At
once
.
"
So
Robert
had
returned
from
his
hunt
.
It
was
long
past
time
.
"
I
shall
need
a
few
moments
to
dress
.
"
Ned
left
the
man
waiting
without
.
Cayn
helped
him
with
his
clothes
;
white
linen
tunic
and
grey
cloak
,
trousers
cut
open
down
his
plaster-sheathed
leg
,
his
badge
of
office
,
and
last
of
all
a
belt
of
heavy
silver
links
.
He
sheathed
the
Valyrian
dagger
at
his
waist
.
The
Red
Keep
was
dark
and
still
as
Cayn
and
Tomard
escorted
him
across
the
inner
bailey
.
The
moon
hung
low
over
the
walls
,
ripening
toward
full
.
On
the
ramparts
,
a
guardsman
in
a
gold
cloak
walked
his
rounds
.
The
royal
apartments
were
in
Maegor
's
Holdfast
,
a
massive
square
fortress
that
nestled
in
the
heart
of
the
Red
Keep
behind
walls
twelve
feet
thick
and
a
dry
moat
lined
with
iron
spikes
,
a
castle-within-a-castle
.
Ser
Boros
Blount
guarded
the
far
end
of
the
bridge
,
white
steel
armor
ghostly
in
the
moonlight
.
Within
,
Ned
passed
two
other
knights
of
the
Kingsguard
;
Ser
Preston
Greenfield
stood
at
the
bottom
of
the
steps
,
and
Ser
Barristan
Selmy
waited
at
the
door
of
the
king
's
bedchamber
.
Three
men
in
white
cloaks
,
he
thought
,
remembering
,
and
a
strange
chill
went
through
him
.
Ser
Barristan
's
face
was
as
pale
as
his
armor
.
Ned
had
only
to
look
at
him
to
know
that
something
was
dreadfully
wrong
.
The
royal
steward
opened
the
door
.
"
Lord
Eddard
Stark
,
the
Hand
of
the
King
,
"
he
announced
.
"
Bring
him
here
,
"
Robert
's
voice
called
,
strangely
thick
.
Fires
blazed
in
the
twin
hearths
at
either
end
of
the
bedchamber
,
filling
the
room
with
a
sullen
red
glare
.
The
heat
within
was
suffocating
.
Robert
lay
across
the
canopied
bed
.
At
the
bedside
hovered
Grand
Maester
Pycelle
,
while
Lord
Renly
paced
restlessly
before
the
shuttered
windows
.
Servants
moved
back
and
forth
,
feeding
logs
to
the
fire
and
boiling
wine
.
Cersei
Lannister
sat
on
the
edge
of
the
bed
beside
her
husband
.
Her
hair
was
tousled
,
as
if
from
sleep
,
but
there
was
nothing
sleepy
in
her
eyes
.
They
followed
Ned
as
Tomard
and
Cayn
helped
him
cross
the
room
.
He
seemed
to
move
very
slowly
,
as
if
he
were
still
dreaming
.
The
king
still
wore
his
boots
.
Ned
could
see
dried
mud
and
blades
of
grass
clinging
to
the
leather
where
Robert
's
feet
stuck
out
beneath
the
blanket
that
covered
him
,
A
green
doublet
lay
on
the
floor
,
slashed
open
and
discarded
,
the
cloth
crusted
with
red-brown
stains
.
The
room
smelled
of
smoke
and
blood
and
death
.
