-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Мартин
-
- Игра престолов
-
- Стр. 532/751
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
A
nightmare
this
might
be
,
yet
it
was
no
dream
.
The
guard
's
sword
was
in
its
sheath
.
Jon
knelt
and
worked
it
free
.
The
heft
of
steel
in
his
fist
made
him
bolder
.
He
moved
up
the
steps
,
Ghost
padding
silently
before
him
.
Shadows
lurked
in
every
turn
of
the
stair
.
Jon
crept
up
warily
,
probing
any
suspicious
darkness
with
the
point
of
his
sword
.
Suddenly
he
heard
the
shriek
of
Mormont
's
raven
.
"
Corn
,
"
the
bird
was
screaming
.
"
Corn
,
corn
,
corn
,
corn
,
corn
,
corn
.
"
Ghost
bounded
ahead
,
and
Jon
came
scrambling
after
.
The
door
to
Mormont
's
solar
was
wide
open
.
The
direwolf
plunged
through
.
Jon
stopped
in
the
doorway
,
blade
in
hand
,
giving
his
eyes
a
moment
to
adjust
.
Heavy
drapes
had
been
pulled
across
the
windows
,
and
the
darkness
was
black
as
ink
.
"
Who
's
there
?
"
he
called
out
.
Then
he
saw
it
,
a
shadow
in
the
shadows
,
sliding
toward
the
inner
door
that
led
to
Mormont
's
sleeping
cell
,
a
man-shape
all
in
black
,
cloaked
and
hooded
...
but
beneath
the
hood
,
its
eyes
shone
with
an
icy
blue
radiance
...
Ghost
leapt
.
Man
and
wolf
went
down
together
with
neither
scream
nor
snarl
,
rolling
,
smashing
into
a
chair
,
knocking
over
a
table
laden
with
papers
.
Mormont
's
raven
was
flapping
overhead
,
screaming
,
"
Corn
,
corn
,
corn
,
corn
.
"
Jon
felt
as
blind
as
Maester
Aemon
.
Keeping
the
wall
to
his
back
,
he
slid
toward
the
window
and
ripped
down
the
curtain
.
Moonlight
flooded
the
solar
.
He
glimpsed
black
hands
buried
in
white
fur
,
swollen
dark
fingers
tightening
around
his
direwolf
's
throat
.
Ghost
was
twisting
and
snapping
,
legs
flailing
in
the
air
,
but
he
could
not
break
free
.
Jon
had
no
time
to
be
afraid
.
He
threw
himself
forward
,
shouting
,
bringing
down
the
longsword
with
all
his
weight
behind
it
.
Steel
sheared
through
sleeve
and
skin
and
bone
,
yet
the
sound
was
wrong
somehow
.
The
smell
that
engulfed
him
was
so
queer
and
cold
he
almost
gagged
.
He
saw
arm
and
hand
on
the
floor
,
black
fingers
wriggling
in
a
pool
of
moonlight
.
Ghost
wrenched
free
of
the
other
hand
and
crept
away
,
red
tongue
lolling
from
his
mouth
.
The
hooded
man
lifted
his
pale
moon
face
,
and
Jon
slashed
at
it
without
hesitation
.
The
sword
laid
the
intruder
open
to
the
bone
,
taking
off
half
his
nose
and
opening
a
gash
cheek
to
cheek
under
those
eyes
,
eyes
,
eyes
like
blue
stars
burning
.
Jon
knew
that
face
.
Othor
,
he
thought
,
reeling
back
.
Gods
,
he
's
dead
,
he
's
dead
,
I
saw
him
dead
.
He
felt
something
scrabble
at
his
ankle
.
Black
fingers
clawed
at
his
calf
.
The
arm
was
crawling
up
his
leg
,
ripping
at
wool
and
flesh
.
Shouting
with
revulsion
,
Jon
pried
the
fingers
off
his
leg
with
the
point
of
his
sword
and
flipped
the
thing
away
.
It
lay
writhing
,
fingers
opening
and
closing
.
