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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 534/751
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Bran
watched
them
come
from
a
guard
turret
atop
the
outer
wall
,
peering
through
Maester
Luwin
's
bronze
far-eye
while
perched
on
Hodor
's
shoulders
.
Lord
Rickard
himself
led
them
,
his
sons
Harrion
and
Eddard
and
Torrhen
riding
beside
him
beneath
night-black
banners
emblazoned
with
the
white
sunburst
of
their
House
.
Old
Nan
said
they
had
Stark
blood
in
them
,
going
back
hundreds
of
years
,
but
they
did
not
look
like
Starks
to
Bran
.
They
were
big
men
,
and
fierce
,
faces
covered
with
thick
beards
,
hair
worn
loose
past
the
shoulders
.
Their
cloaks
were
made
of
skins
,
the
pelts
of
bear
and
seal
and
wolf
.
They
were
the
last
,
he
knew
.
The
other
lords
were
already
here
,
with
their
hosts
.
Bran
yearned
to
ride
out
among
them
,
to
see
the
winter
houses
full
to
bursting
,
the
jostling
crowds
in
the
market
square
every
morning
,
the
streets
rutted
and
torn
by
wheel
and
hoof
.
But
Robb
had
forbidden
him
to
leave
the
castle
.
"
We
have
no
men
to
spare
to
guard
you
,
"
his
brother
had
explained
.
"
I
'll
take
Summer
,
"
Bran
argued
.
"
Do
n't
act
the
boy
with
me
,
Bran
,
"
Robb
said
.
"
You
know
better
than
that
.
Only
two
days
ago
one
of
Lord
Bolton
's
men
knifed
one
of
Lord
Cerwyn
's
at
the
Smoking
Log
.
Our
lady
mother
would
skin
me
for
a
pelt
if
I
let
you
put
yourself
at
risk
.
"
He
was
using
the
voice
of
Robb
the
Lord
when
he
said
it
;
Bran
knew
that
meant
there
was
no
appeal
.
It
was
because
of
what
had
happened
in
the
wolfswood
,
he
knew
.
The
memory
still
gave
him
bad
dreams
.
He
had
been
as
helpless
as
a
baby
,
no
more
able
to
defend
himself
than
Rickon
would
have
been
.
Less
,
even
...
Rickon
would
have
kicked
them
,
at
the
least
.
It
shamed
him
.
He
was
only
a
few
years
younger
than
Robb
;
if
his
brother
was
almost
a
man
grown
,
so
was
he
.
He
should
have
been
able
to
protect
himself
.
A
year
ago
,
before
,
he
would
have
visited
the
town
even
if
it
meant
climbing
over
the
walls
by
himself
.
In
those
days
he
could
run
down
stairs
,
get
on
and
off
his
pony
by
himself
,
and
wield
a
wooden
sword
good
enough
to
knock
Prince
Tommen
in
the
dirt
.
Now
he
could
only
watch
,
peering
out
through
Maester
Luwin
's
lens
tube
.
The
maester
had
taught
him
all
the
banners
:
the
mailed
fist
of
the
Glovers
,
silver
on
scarlet
;
Lady
Mormont
's
black
bear
;
the
hideous
flayed
man
that
went
before
Roose
Bolton
of
the
Dreadfort
;
a
bull
moose
for
the
Hornwoods
;
a
battle-axe
for
the
Cerwyns
;
three
sentinel
trees
for
the
Tallharts
;
and
the
fearsome
sigil
of
House
Umber
,
a
roaring
giant
in
shattered
chains
.
And
soon
enough
he
learned
the
faces
too
,
when
the
lords
and
their
sons
and
knights
retainer
came
to
Winterfell
to
feast
.
Even
the
Great
Hall
was
not
large
enough
to
seat
all
of
them
at
once
,
so
Robb
hosted
each
of
the
principal
bannermen
in
turn
.
Bran
was
always
given
the
place
of
honor
at
his
brother
's
right
hand
.
Some
of
the
lords
bannermen
gave
him
queer
hard
stares
as
he
sat
there
,
as
if
they
wondered
by
what
right
a
green
boy
should
be
placed
above
them
,
and
him
a
cripple
too
.
"
How
many
is
it
now
?
"
Bran
asked
Maester
Luwin
as
Lord
Karstark
and
his
sons
rode
through
the
gates
in
the
outer
wall
.
