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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 618/751
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Strings
of
meat
and
blood
flew
everywhere
,
scattering
the
ravens
.
They
took
to
the
air
,
shrieking
wildly
.
The
quicker
birds
snatched
morsels
on
the
wing
and
gulped
them
down
greedily
.
Jon
let
the
empty
bucket
clang
to
the
floor
.
The
old
man
laid
a
withered
,
spotted
hand
on
his
shoulder
.
"
It
hurts
,
boy
,
"
he
said
softly
.
"
Oh
,
yes
.
Choosing
...
it
has
always
hurt
.
And
always
will
.
I
know
.
"
"
You
do
n't
know
,
"
Jon
said
bitterly
.
"
No
one
knows
.
Even
if
I
am
his
bastard
,
he
's
still
my
father
...
"
Maester
Aemon
sighed
.
"
Have
you
heard
nothing
I
've
told
you
,
Jon
?
Do
you
think
you
are
the
first
?
"
He
shook
his
ancient
head
,
a
gesture
weary
beyond
words
.
"
Three
times
the
gods
saw
fit
to
test
my
vows
.
Once
when
I
was
a
boy
,
once
in
the
fullness
of
my
manhood
,
and
once
when
I
had
grown
old
.
By
then
my
strength
was
fled
,
my
eyes
grown
dim
,
yet
that
last
choice
was
as
cruel
as
the
first
.
My
ravens
would
bring
the
news
from
the
south
,
words
darker
than
their
wings
,
the
ruin
of
my
House
,
the
death
of
my
kin
,
disgrace
and
desolation
.
What
could
I
have
done
,
old
,
blind
,
frail
?
I
was
helpless
as
a
suckling
babe
,
yet
still
it
grieved
me
to
sit
forgotten
as
they
cut
down
my
brother
's
poor
grandson
,
and
his
son
,
and
even
the
little
children
...
"
Jon
was
shocked
to
see
the
shine
of
tears
in
the
old
man
's
eyes
.
"
Who
are
you
?
"
he
asked
quietly
,
almost
in
dread
.
A
toothless
smile
quivered
on
the
ancient
lips
.
"
Only
a
maester
of
the
Citadel
,
bound
in
service
to
Castle
Black
and
the
Night
's
Watch
In
my
order
,
we
put
aside
our
house
names
when
we
take
our
vows
and
don
the
collar
.
"
The
old
man
touched
the
maester
's
chain
that
hung
loosely
around
his
thin
,
fleshless
neck
.
"
My
father
was
Maekar
,
the
First
of
his
Name
,
and
my
brother
Aegon
reigned
after
him
in
my
stead
.
My
grandfather
named
me
for
Prince
Aemon
the
Dragonknight
,
who
was
his
uncle
,
or
his
father
,
depending
on
which
tale
you
believe
.
Aemon
,
he
called
me
...
"
"
Aemon
...
Targaryen
?
"
Jon
could
scarcely
believe
it
.
"
Once
,
"
the
old
man
said
.
"
Once
.
So
you
see
,
Jon
,
I
do
know
...
and
knowing
,
I
will
not
tell
you
stay
or
go
.
You
must
make
that
choice
yourself
,
and
live
with
it
all
the
rest
of
your
days
.
As
I
have
.
"
His
voice
fell
to
a
whisper
.
"
As
I
have
...
"
When
the
battle
was
done
,
Dany
rode
her
silver
through
the
fields
of
the
dead
.
Her
handmaids
and
the
men
of
her
khas
came
after
,
smiling
and
jesting
among
themselves
.
