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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 5/751
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"
Have
you
drawn
any
watches
this
past
week
,
Will
?
"
"
Yes
,
m
'
lord
.
"
There
never
was
a
week
when
he
did
not
draw
a
dozen
bloody
watches
.
What
was
the
man
driving
at
?
"
And
how
did
you
find
the
Wall
?
"
"
Weeping
,
"
Will
said
,
frowning
.
He
saw
it
clear
enough
,
now
that
the
lordling
had
pointed
it
out
.
"
They
could
n't
have
froze
.
Not
if
the
Wall
was
weeping
.
It
was
n't
cold
enough
.
"
Royce
nodded
.
"
Bright
lad
.
We
've
had
a
few
light
frosts
this
past
week
,
and
a
quick
flurry
of
snow
now
and
then
,
but
surely
no
cold
fierce
enough
to
kill
eight
grown
men
.
Men
clad
in
fur
and
leather
,
let
me
remind
you
,
with
shelter
near
at
hand
,
and
the
means
of
making
fire
.
"
The
knight
's
smile
was
cocksure
.
"
Will
,
lead
us
there
.
I
would
see
these
dead
men
for
myself
.
"
And
then
there
was
nothing
to
be
done
for
it
.
The
order
had
been
given
,
and
honor
bound
them
to
obey
.
Will
went
in
front
,
his
shaggy
little
garron
picking
the
way
carefully
through
the
undergrowth
.
A
light
snow
had
fallen
the
night
before
,
and
there
were
stones
and
roots
and
hidden
sinks
lying
just
under
its
crust
,
waiting
for
the
careless
and
the
unwary
.
Ser
Waymar
Royce
came
next
,
his
great
black
destrier
snorting
impatiently
.
The
warhorse
was
the
wrong
mount
for
ranging
,
but
try
and
tell
that
to
the
lordling
.
Gared
brought
up
the
rear
.
The
old
man-at-arms
muttered
to
himself
as
he
rode
.
Twilight
deepened
.
The
cloudless
sky
turned
a
deep
purple
,
the
color
of
an
old
bruise
,
then
faded
to
black
.
The
stars
began
to
come
out
.
A
half-moon
rose
.
Will
was
grateful
for
the
light
.
"
We
can
make
a
better
pace
than
this
,
surely
,
"
Royce
said
when
the
moon
was
full
risen
.
