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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 685/751
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His
brother
nodded
.
"
If
Shaggy
comes
too
,
"
he
said
,
running
after
Osha
and
Bran
,
and
there
was
nothing
Maester
Luwin
could
do
but
follow
,
keeping
a
wary
eye
on
the
wolves
.
Maester
Luwin
's
turret
was
so
cluttered
that
it
seemed
to
Bran
a
wonder
that
he
ever
found
anything
.
Tottering
piles
of
books
covered
tables
and
chairs
,
rows
of
stoppered
jars
lined
the
shelves
,
candle
stubs
and
puddles
of
dried
wax
dotted
the
furniture
,
the
bronze
Myrish
lens
tube
sat
on
a
tripod
by
the
terrace
door
,
star
charts
hung
from
the
walls
,
shadow
maps
lay
scattered
among
the
rushes
,
papers
,
quills
,
and
pots
of
inks
were
everywhere
,
and
all
of
it
was
spotted
with
droppings
from
the
ravens
in
the
rafters
.
Their
strident
quorks
drifted
down
from
above
as
Osha
washed
and
cleaned
and
bandaged
the
maester
's
wounds
,
under
Luwin
's
terse
instruction
.
"
This
is
folly
,
"
the
small
grey
man
said
while
she
dabbed
at
the
wolf
bites
with
a
stinging
ointment
.
"
I
agree
that
it
is
odd
that
both
you
boys
dreamed
the
same
dream
,
yet
when
you
stop
to
consider
it
,
it
's
only
natural
.
You
miss
your
lord
father
,
and
you
know
that
he
is
a
captive
.
Fear
can
fever
a
man
's
mind
and
give
him
queer
thoughts
.
Rickon
is
too
young
to
comprehend
--
"
"
I
'm
four
now
,
"
Rickon
said
.
He
was
peeking
through
the
lens
tube
at
the
gargoyles
on
the
First
Keep
.
The
direwolves
sat
on
opposite
sides
of
the
large
round
room
,
licking
their
wounds
and
gnawing
on
bones
.
"
--
too
young
,
and
--
ooh
,
seven
hells
,
that
burns
,
no
,
do
n't
stop
,
more
.
Too
young
,
as
I
say
,
but
you
,
Bran
,
you
're
old
enough
to
know
that
dreams
are
only
dreams
.
"
"
Some
are
,
some
are
n't
.
"
Osha
poured
pale
red
firemilk
into
a
long
gash
.
Luwin
gasped
.
"
The
children
of
the
forest
could
tell
you
a
thing
or
two
about
dreaming
.
"
Tears
were
streaming
down
the
maester
's
face
,
yet
he
shook
his
head
doggedly
.
"
The
children
...
live
only
in
dreams
.
Now
.
Dead
and
gone
.
Enough
,
that
's
enough
.
Now
the
bandages
.
Pads
and
then
wrap
,
and
make
it
tight
,
I
'll
be
bleeding
.
"
"
Old
Nan
says
the
children
knew
the
songs
of
the
trees
,
that
they
could
fly
like
birds
and
swim
like
fish
and
talk
to
the
animals
,
"
Bran
said
.
"
She
says
that
they
made
music
so
beautiful
that
it
made
you
cry
like
a
little
baby
just
to
hear
it
.
"
"
And
all
this
they
did
with
magic
,
"
Maester
Luwin
said
,
distracted
.
"
I
wish
they
were
here
now
.
A
spell
would
heal
my
arm
less
painfully
,
and
they
could
talk
to
Shaggydog
and
tell
him
not
to
bite
.
"
He
gave
the
big
black
wolf
an
angry
glance
out
of
the
corner
of
his
eye
.
"
Take
a
lesson
,
Bran
.
The
man
who
trusts
in
spells
is
dueling
with
a
glass
sword
.
As
the
children
did
.
Here
,
let
me
show
you
something
.
"
He
stood
abruptly
,
crossed
the
room
,
and
returned
with
a
green
jar
in
his
good
hand
.
"
Have
a
look
at
these
,
"
he
said
as
he
pulled
the
stopper
and
shook
out
a
handful
of
shiny
black
arrowheads
.
