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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 722/751
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Scattered
lights
flickered
through
the
trees
ahead
of
him
,
on
both
sides
of
the
road
:
Mole
's
Town
.
A
dog
barked
as
he
rode
through
,
and
he
heard
a
mule
's
raucous
haw
from
the
stable
,
but
otherwise
the
village
was
still
.
Here
and
there
the
glow
of
hearth
fires
shone
through
shuttered
windows
,
leaking
between
wooden
slats
,
but
only
a
few
.
Mole
's
Town
was
bigger
than
it
seemed
,
but
three
quarters
of
it
was
under
the
ground
,
in
deep
warm
cellars
connected
by
a
maze
of
tunnels
.
Even
the
whorehouse
was
down
there
,
nothing
on
the
surface
but
a
wooden
shack
no
bigger
than
a
privy
,
with
a
red
lantern
hung
over
the
door
.
On
the
Wall
,
he
'd
heard
men
call
the
whores
"
buried
treasures
.
"
He
wondered
whether
any
of
his
brothers
in
black
were
down
there
tonight
,
mining
.
That
was
oathbreaking
too
,
yet
no
one
seemed
to
care
.
Not
until
he
was
well
beyond
the
village
did
Jon
slow
again
.
By
then
both
he
and
the
mare
were
damp
with
sweat
.
He
dismounted
,
shivering
,
his
burned
hand
aching
.
A
bank
of
melting
snow
lay
under
the
trees
,
bright
in
the
moonlight
,
water
trickling
off
to
form
small
shallow
pools
.
Jon
squatted
and
brought
his
hands
together
,
cupping
the
runoff
between
his
fingers
.
The
snowmelt
was
icy
cold
.
He
drank
,
and
splashed
some
on
his
face
,
until
his
cheeks
tingled
.
His
fingers
were
throbbing
worse
than
they
had
in
days
,
and
his
head
was
pounding
too
.
I
am
doing
the
right
thing
,
he
told
himself
,
so
why
do
I
feel
so
bad
?
The
horse
was
well
lathered
,
so
Jon
took
the
lead
and
walked
her
for
a
while
.
The
road
was
scarcely
wide
enough
for
two
riders
to
pass
abreast
,
its
surface
cut
by
tiny
streams
and
littered
with
stone
.
That
run
had
been
truly
stupid
,
an
invitation
to
a
broken
neck
.
Jon
wondered
what
had
gotten
into
him
.
Was
he
in
such
a
great
rush
to
die
?
Off
in
the
trees
,
the
distant
scream
of
some
frightened
animal
made
him
look
up
.
His
mare
whinnied
nervously
.
Had
his
wolf
found
some
prey
?
He
cupped
his
hands
around
his
mouth
.
"
Ghost
!
"
he
shouted
.
"
Ghost
,
to
me
.
"
The
only
answer
was
a
rush
of
wings
behind
him
as
an
owl
took
flight
.
Frowning
,
Jon
continued
on
his
way
.
He
led
the
mare
for
half
an
hour
,
until
she
was
dry
.
Ghost
did
not
appear
.
Jon
wanted
to
mount
up
and
ride
again
,
but
he
was
concerned
about
his
missing
wolf
.
"
Ghost
,
"
he
called
again
.
"
Where
are
you
?
To
me
!
Ghost
!
"
Nothing
in
these
woods
could
trouble
a
direwolf
,
even
a
half-grown
direwolf
,
unless
...
no
,
Ghost
was
too
smart
to
attack
a
bear
,
and
if
there
was
a
wolf
pack
anywhere
close
Jon
would
have
surely
heard
them
howling
.
He
should
eat
,
he
decided
.
Food
would
settle
his
stomach
and
give
Ghost
the
chance
to
catch
up
.
There
was
no
danger
yet
;
Castle
Black
still
slept
.
In
his
saddlebag
,
he
found
a
biscuit
,
a
piece
of
cheese
,
and
a
small
withered
brown
apple
.
He
'd
brought
salt
beef
as
well
,
and
a
rasher
of
bacon
he
'd
filched
from
the
kitchens
,
but
he
would
save
the
meat
for
the
morrow
.
After
it
was
gone
he
'd
need
to
hunt
,
and
that
would
slow
him
.
Jon
sat
under
the
trees
and
ate
his
biscuit
and
cheese
while
his
mare
grazed
along
the
kingsroad
.
He
kept
the
apple
for
last
.
It
had
gone
a
little
soft
,
but
the
flesh
was
still
tart
and
juicy
.
He
was
down
to
the
core
when
he
heard
the
sounds
:
horses
,
and
from
the
north
.
Quickly
Jon
leapt
up
and
strode
to
his
mare
.
Could
he
outrun
them
?
No
,
they
were
too
close
,
they
'd
hear
him
for
a
certainty
,
and
if
they
were
from
Castle
Black
...
He
led
the
mare
off
the
road
,
behind
a
thick
stand
of
grey-green
sentinels
.
"
Ouiet
now
,
"
he
said
in
a
hushed
voice
,
crouching
down
to
peer
through
the
branches
.
If
the
gods
were
kind
,
the
riders
would
pass
by
.
Likely
as
not
,
they
were
only
smallfolk
from
Mole
's
Town
,
farmers
on
their
way
to
their
fields
,
although
what
they
were
doing
out
in
the
middle
of
the
night
...
