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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 504/751
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Arya
thrust
her
wooden
sword
through
her
belt
and
began
to
climb
,
leaping
from
cask
to
cask
until
she
could
reach
the
window
.
Grasping
the
stone
with
both
hands
,
she
pulled
herself
up
.
The
wall
was
three
feet
thick
,
the
window
a
tunnel
slanting
up
and
out
.
Arya
wriggled
toward
daylight
.
When
her
head
reached
ground
level
,
she
peered
across
the
bailey
to
the
Tower
of
the
Hand
.
The
stout
wooden
door
hung
splintered
and
broken
,
as
if
by
axes
.
A
dead
man
sprawled
facedown
on
the
steps
,
his
cloak
tangled
beneath
him
,
the
back
of
his
mailed
shirt
soaked
red
.
The
corpse
's
cloak
was
grey
wool
trimmed
with
white
satin
,
she
saw
with
sudden
terror
.
She
could
not
tell
who
he
was
.
"
No
,
"
she
whispered
.
What
was
happening
?
Where
was
her
father
?
Why
had
the
red
cloaks
come
for
her
?
She
remembered
what
the
man
with
the
yellow
beard
had
said
,
the
day
she
had
found
the
monsters
.
If
one
Hand
can
die
,
why
not
a
second
?
Arya
felt
tears
in
her
eyes
.
She
held
her
breath
to
listen
.
She
heard
the
sounds
of
fighting
,
shouts
,
screams
,
the
clang
of
steel
on
steel
,
coming
through
the
windows
of
the
Tower
of
the
Hand
.
She
could
not
go
back
.
Her
father
...
Arya
closed
her
eyes
.
For
a
moment
she
was
too
frightened
to
move
.
They
had
killed
Jory
and
Wyl
and
Heward
,
and
that
guardsman
on
the
step
,
whoever
he
had
been
.
They
could
kill
her
father
too
,
and
her
if
they
caught
her
.
"
Fear
cuts
deeper
than
swords
,
"
she
said
aloud
,
but
it
was
no
good
pretending
to
be
a
water
dancer
,
Syrio
had
been
a
water
dancer
and
the
white
knight
had
probably
killed
him
,
and
anyhow
she
was
only
a
little
girl
with
a
wooden
stick
,
alone
and
afraid
.
She
squirmed
out
into
the
yard
,
glancing
around
warily
as
she
climbed
to
her
feet
.
The
castle
seemed
deserted
.
The
Red
Keep
was
never
deserted
.
All
the
people
must
be
hiding
inside
,
their
doors
barred
.
Arya
glanced
up
longingly
at
her
bedchamber
,
then
moved
away
from
the
Tower
of
the
Hand
,
keeping
close
to
the
wall
as
she
slid
from
shadow
to
shadow
.
She
pretended
she
was
chasing
cats
...
except
she
was
the
cat
now
,
and
if
they
caught
her
,
they
would
kill
her
.
Moving
between
buildings
and
over
walls
,
keeping
stone
to
her
back
wherever
possible
so
no
one
could
surprise
her
,
Arya
reached
the
stables
almost
without
incident
.
A
dozen
gold
cloaks
in
mail
and
plate
ran
past
as
she
was
edging
across
the
inner
bailey
,
but
without
knowing
whose
side
they
were
on
,
she
hunched
down
low
in
the
shadows
and
let
them
pass
.
Hullen
,
who
had
been
master
of
horse
at
Winterfell
as
long
as
Arya
could
remember
,
was
slumped
on
the
ground
by
the
stable
door
.
He
had
been
stabbed
so
many
times
it
looked
as
if
his
tunic
was
patterned
with
scarlet
flowers
.
Arya
was
certain
he
was
dead
,
but
when
she
crept
closer
,
his
eyes
opened
.
"
Arya
Underfoot
,
"
he
whispered
.
"
You
must
...
warn
your
...
your
lord
father
...
"
Frothy
red
spittle
bubbled
from
his
mouth
.
The
master
of
horse
closed
his
eyes
again
and
said
no
more
.
Inside
were
more
bodies
;
a
groom
she
had
played
with
,
and
three
of
her
father
's
household
guard
.
A
wagon
,
laden
with
crates
and
chests
,
stood
abandoned
near
the
door
of
the
stable
.
The
dead
men
must
have
been
loading
it
for
the
trip
to
the
docks
when
they
were
attacked
.
Arya
snuck
closer
.
One
of
the
corpses
was
Desmond
,
who
'd
shown
her
his
longsword
and
promised
to
protect
her
father
.
He
lay
on
his
back
,
staring
blindly
at
the
ceiling
as
flies
crawled
across
his
eyes
.
Close
to
him
was
a
dead
man
in
the
red
cloak
and
lion-crest
helm
of
the
Lannisters
.
Only
one
,
though
.
Every
northerner
is
worth
ten
of
these
southron
swords
,
Desmond
had
told
her
.
"
You
liar
!
"
she
said
,
kicking
his
body
in
a
sudden
fury
.
