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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 544/751
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"
I
told
him
,
"
Bran
said
.
"
He
says
no
one
ever
comes
back
.
"
"
He
ca
n't
be
a
baby
forever
.
He
's
a
Stark
,
and
near
four
.
"
Robb
sighed
.
"
Well
,
Mother
will
be
home
soon
.
And
I
'll
bring
back
Father
,
I
promise
.
"
He
wheeled
his
courser
around
and
trotted
away
Grey
Wind
followed
,
loping
beside
the
warhorse
,
lean
and
swift
.
Hallis
Mollen
went
before
them
through
the
gate
,
carrying
the
rippling
white
banner
of
House
Stark
atop
a
high
standard
of
grey
ash
.
Theon
Greyjoy
and
the
Greatjon
fell
in
on
either
side
of
Robb
,
and
their
knights
formed
up
in
a
double
column
behind
them
,
steel-tipped
lances
glinting
in
the
sun
.
Uncomfortably
,
he
remembered
Osha
's
words
.
He
's
marching
the
wrong
way
,
he
thought
.
For
an
instant
he
wanted
to
gallop
after
him
and
shout
a
warning
,
but
when
Robb
vanished
beneath
the
portcullis
,
the
moment
was
gone
.
Beyond
the
castle
walls
,
a
roar
of
sound
went
up
.
The
foot
soldiers
and
townsfolk
were
cheering
Robb
as
he
rode
past
,
Bran
knew
;
cheering
for
Lord
Stark
,
for
the
Lord
of
Winterfell
on
his
great
stallion
,
with
his
cloak
streaming
and
Grey
Wind
racing
beside
him
.
They
would
never
cheer
for
him
that
way
,
he
realized
with
a
dull
ache
.
He
might
be
the
lord
in
Winterfell
while
his
brother
and
father
were
gone
,
but
he
was
still
Bran
the
Broken
.
He
could
not
even
get
off
his
own
horse
,
except
to
fall
.
When
the
distant
cheers
had
faded
to
silence
and
the
yard
was
empty
at
last
,
Winterfell
seemed
deserted
and
dead
.
Bran
looked
around
at
the
faces
of
those
who
remained
,
women
and
children
and
old
men
...
and
Hodor
.
The
huge
stableboy
had
a
lost
and
frightened
look
to
his
face
.
"
Hodor
?
"
he
said
sadly
.
"
Hodor
,
"
Bran
agreed
,
wondering
what
it
meant
.
When
he
had
taken
his
pleasure
,
Khal
Drogo
rose
from
their
sleeping
mats
to
tower
above
her
.
His
skin
shone
dark
as
bronze
in
the
ruddy
light
from
the
brazier
,
the
faint
lines
of
old
scars
visible
on
his
broad
chest
.
Ink-black
hair
,
loose
and
unbound
,
cascaded
over
his
shoulders
and
down
his
back
,
well
past
his
waist
.
His
manhood
glistened
wetly
.
The
khal
's
mouth
twisted
in
a
frown
beneath
the
droop
of
his
long
mustachio
.
"
The
stallion
who
mounts
the
world
has
no
need
of
iron
chairs
.
"
Dany
propped
herself
on
an
elbow
to
look
up
at
him
,
so
tall
and
magnificent
.
She
loved
his
hair
especially
.
It
had
never
been
cut
;
he
had
never
known
defeat
.
"
It
was
prophesied
that
the
stallion
will
ride
to
the
ends
of
the
earth
,
"
she
said
.
