Игра престолов

Jon

           Jonputhisheelsintohishorseandbrokeintoagallop,racingdownthekingsroad,asiftooutrunhisdoubts.Jonwasnotafraidofdeath,buthedidnotwanttodielikethat,trussedandboundandbeheadedlikeacommonbrigand.Ifhemustperish,letitbewithaswordinhishand,fightinghisfather’skillers.HewasnotrueStark,hadneverbeenone...buthecoulddielikeone.LetthemsaythatEddardStarkhadfatheredfoursons,notthree.

           Ghostkeptpacewiththemforalmosthalfamile,redtonguelollingfromhismouth.Manandhorsealikeloweredtheirheadsasheaskedthemareformorespeed.Thewolfslowed,stopped,watching,hiseyesglowingredinthemoonlight.Hevanishedbehind,butJonknewhewouldfollow,athisownpace.

           Scatteredlightsflickeredthroughthetreesaheadofhim,onbothsidesoftheroad:Mole’sTown.Adogbarkedasherodethrough,andheheardamule’sraucoushawfromthestable,butotherwisethevillagewasstill.Hereandtheretheglowofhearthfiresshonethroughshutteredwindows,leakingbetweenwoodenslats,butonlyafew.

           Mole’sTownwasbiggerthanitseemed,butthreequartersofitwasundertheground,indeepwarmcellarsconnectedbyamazeoftunnels.Eventhewhorehousewasdownthere,nothingonthesurfacebutawoodenshacknobiggerthanaprivy,witharedlanternhungoverthedoor.OntheWall,he’dheardmencallthewhores"buriedtreasures."Hewonderedwhetheranyofhisbrothersinblackweredowntheretonight,mining.Thatwasoathbreakingtoo,yetnooneseemedtocare.

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