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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Dareon
,
I
am
told
that
you
sang
at
many
a
high
lord
's
table
and
shared
their
meat
and
mead
.
We
are
sending
you
to
Eastwatch
.
It
may
be
your
palate
will
be
some
help
to
Cotter
Pyke
when
merchant
galleys
come
trading
.
We
are
paying
too
dear
for
salt
beef
and
pickled
fish
,
and
the
quality
of
the
olive
oil
we
're
getting
has
been
frightful
,
Present
yourself
to
Borcas
when
you
arrive
,
he
will
keep
you
busy
between
ships
.
"
Marsh
turned
his
smile
on
Jon
.
"
Lord
Commander
Mormont
has
requested
you
for
his
personal
steward
,
Jon
.
You
'll
sleep
in
a
cell
beneath
his
chambers
,
in
the
Lord
Commander
's
tower
.
"
"
And
what
will
my
duties
be
?
"
Jon
asked
sharply
.
"
Will
I
serve
the
Lord
Commander
's
meals
,
help
him
fasten
his
clothes
,
fetch
hot
water
for
his
bath
?
"
"
Certainly
.
"
Marsh
frowned
at
Jon
's
tone
.
"
And
you
will
run
his
messages
,
keep
a
fire
burning
in
his
chambers
,
change
his
sheets
and
blankets
daily
,
and
do
all
else
that
the
Lord
Commander
might
require
of
you
.
"
"
Do
you
take
me
for
a
servant
?
"
"
No
,
"
Maester
Aemon
said
,
from
the
back
of
the
sept.
.
Clydas
helped
him
stand
.
"
We
took
you
for
a
man
of
the
Night
's
Watch
...
but
perhaps
we
were
wrong
in
that
.
"
It
was
all
Jon
could
do
to
stop
himself
from
walking
out
.
Was
he
supposed
to
churn
butter
and
sew
doublets
like
a
girl
for
the
rest
of
his
days
?
"
May
I
go
?
"
he
asked
stiffly
.
"
As
you
wish
,
"
Bowen
Marsh
responded
.
Dareon
and
Sam
left
with
him
.
They
descended
to
the
yard
in
silence
.
Outside
,
Jon
looked
up
at
the
Wall
shining
in
the
sun
,
the
melting
ice
creeping
down
its
side
in
a
hundred
thin
fingers
.
Jon
's
rage
was
such
that
he
would
have
smashed
it
all
in
an
instant
,
and
the
world
be
damned
.
