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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 612/751
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Jon
lowered
the
sword
.
"
Why
?
"
he
said
,
stupidly
.
Mormont
snorted
.
"
Because
I
sent
him
,
why
do
you
think
?
He
's
bringing
the
hand
your
Ghost
tore
off
the
end
of
Jafer
Flowers
's
wrist
.
I
have
commanded
him
to
take
ship
to
King
's
Landing
and
lay
it
before
this
boy
king
.
That
should
get
young
Joffrey
's
attention
,
I
'd
think
...
and
Ser
Alliser
's
a
knight
,
highborn
,
anointed
,
with
old
friends
at
court
,
altogether
harder
to
ignore
than
a
glorified
crow
.
"
"
Crow
.
"
Jon
thought
the
raven
sounded
faintly
indignant
.
"
As
well
,
"
the
Lord
Commander
continued
,
ignoring
the
bird
's
protest
,
"
it
puts
a
thousand
leagues
twixt
him
and
you
without
it
seeming
a
rebuke
.
"
He
jabbed
a
finger
up
at
Jon
's
face
.
"
And
do
n't
think
this
means
I
approve
of
that
nonsense
in
the
common
hall
.
Valor
makes
up
for
a
fair
amount
of
folly
,
but
you
're
not
a
boy
anymore
,
however
many
years
you
've
seen
.
That
's
a
man
's
sword
you
have
there
,
and
it
will
take
a
man
to
wield
her
.
I
'll
expect
you
to
act
the
part
,
henceforth
.
"
"
Yes
,
my
lord
.
"
Jon
slid
the
sword
back
into
the
silver-banded
scabbard
.
If
not
the
blade
he
would
have
chosen
,
it
was
nonetheless
a
noble
gift
,
and
freeing
him
from
Alliser
Thorne
's
malignance
was
nobler
still
.
The
Old
Bear
scratched
at
his
chin
.
"
I
had
forgotten
how
much
a
new
beard
itches
,
"
he
said
.
"
Well
,
no
help
for
that
.
Is
that
hand
of
yours
healed
enough
to
resume
your
duties
?
"
"
Yes
,
my
lord
.
"
"
Good
.
The
night
will
be
cold
,
I
'll
want
hot
spice
wine
.
Find
me
a
flagon
of
red
,
not
too
sour
,
and
do
n't
skimp
on
the
spices
.
And
tell
Hobb
that
if
he
sends
me
boiled
mutton
again
I
'm
like
to
boil
him
.
That
last
haunch
was
grey
.
Even
the
bird
would
n't
touch
it
.
"
He
stroked
the
raven
's
head
with
his
thumb
,
and
the
bird
made
a
contented
quorking
sound
.
"
Away
with
you
.
I
've
work
to
do
.
"
The
guards
smiled
at
him
from
their
niches
as
he
wound
his
way
down
the
turret
stair
,
carrying
the
sword
in
his
good
hand
.
"
Sweet
steel
,
"
one
man
said
.
"
You
earned
that
,
Snow
,
"
another
told
him
.
Jon
made
himself
smile
back
at
them
,
but
his
heart
was
not
in
it
.
He
knew
he
should
be
pleased
,
yet
he
did
not
feel
it
.
His
hand
ached
,
and
the
taste
of
anger
was
in
his
mouth
,
though
he
could
not
have
said
who
he
was
angry
with
or
why
.
