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- Джордж Мартин
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Syrio
Forel
allowed
himself
a
smile
.
"
I
am
thinking
that
when
we
are
reaching
this
Winterfell
of
yours
,
it
will
be
time
to
put
this
needle
in
your
hand
.
"
"
Yes
!
"
Arya
said
eagerly
.
"
Wait
till
I
show
Jon
--
"
Behind
her
the
great
wooden
doors
of
the
Small
Hall
flew
open
with
a
resounding
crash
.
Arya
whirled
.
A
knight
of
the
Kingsguard
stood
beneath
the
arch
of
the
door
with
five
Lannister
guardsmen
arrayed
behind
him
.
He
was
in
full
armor
,
but
his
visor
was
up
.
Arya
remembered
his
droopy
eyes
and
rustcolored
whiskers
from
when
he
had
come
to
Winterfell
with
the
king
:
Ser
Meryn
Trant
.
The
red
cloaks
wore
mail
shirts
over
boiled
leather
and
steel
caps
with
lion
crests
.
"
Arya
Stark
,
"
the
knight
said
,
"
come
with
us
,
child
.
"
Arya
chewed
her
lip
uncertainly
.
"
What
do
you
want
?
"
"
Your
father
wants
to
see
you
.
"
Arya
took
a
step
forward
,
but
Syrio
Forel
held
her
by
the
arm
.
"
And
why
is
it
that
Lord
Eddard
is
sending
Lannister
men
in
the
place
of
his
own
?
I
am
wondering
.
"
"
Mind
your
place
,
dancing
master
,
"
Ser
Meryn
said
.
"
This
is
no
concern
of
yours
.
"
"
My
father
would
n't
send
you
,
"
Arya
said
.
She
snatched
up
her
stick
sword
.
The
Lannisters
laughed
.
