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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 611/751
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"
Yes
,
my
lord
.
"
The
soft
leather
gave
beneath
Jon
's
fingers
,
as
if
the
sword
were
molding
itself
to
his
grip
already
.
He
knew
he
should
be
honored
,
and
he
was
,
and
yet
...
He
is
not
my
father
.
The
thought
leapt
unbidden
to
Jon
's
mind
.
Lord
Eddard
Stark
is
my
father
.
I
will
not
forget
him
,
no
matter
how
many
swords
they
give
me
.
Yet
he
could
scarcely
tell
Lord
Mormont
that
it
was
another
man
's
sword
he
dreamt
of
...
"
I
want
no
courtesies
either
,
"
Mormont
said
,
"
so
thank
me
no
thanks
.
Honor
the
steel
with
deeds
,
not
words
.
"
Jon
nodded
.
"
Does
it
have
a
name
,
my
lord
?
"
"
It
did
,
once
.
Longclaw
,
it
was
called
.
"
"
Claw
,
"
the
raven
cried
.
"
Claw
.
"
"
Longclaw
is
an
apt
name
.
"
Jon
tried
a
practice
cut
.
He
was
clumsy
and
uncomfortable
with
his
left
hand
,
yet
even
so
the
steel
seemed
to
flow
through
the
air
,
as
if
it
had
a
will
of
its
own
.
"
Wolves
have
claws
,
as
much
as
bears
.
"
The
Old
Bear
seemed
pleased
by
that
.
"
I
suppose
they
do
.
You
'll
want
to
wear
that
over
the
shoulder
,
I
imagine
.
It
's
too
long
for
the
hip
,
at
least
until
you
've
put
on
a
few
inches
.
And
you
'll
need
to
work
at
your
two-handed
strikes
as
well
.
Ser
Endrew
can
show
you
some
moves
,
when
your
burns
have
healed
.
"
"
Ser
Endrew
?
"
Jon
did
not
know
the
name
.
"
Ser
Endrew
Tarth
,
a
good
man
.
He
's
on
his
way
from
the
ShadowTower
to
assume
the
duties
of
master-at-arms
.
Ser
Alliser
Thorne
left
yestermorn
for
Eastwatch-by-the-Sea
.
"
