Игра престолов

Prologue

           Frostfallenleaveswhisperedpastthem,andRoyce’sdestriermovedrestlessly. "Whatdoyouthinkmighthavekilledthesemen,Gared?" SerWaymaraskedcasually. Headjustedthedrapeofhislongsablecloak. 

           "Itwasthecold,"Garedsaidwithironcertainty. "Isawmenfreezelastwinter,andtheonebefore,whenIwashalfaboy. Everyonetalksaboutsnowsfortyfootdeep,andhowtheicewindcomeshowlingoutofthenorth, buttherealenemyisthecold. ItstealsuponyouquieterthanWill, andatfirstyoushiverandyourteethchatterandyoustampyourfeet anddreamofmulledwineandnicehotfires. Itburns,itdoes. Nothingburnslikethecold.Butonlyforawhile. Thenitgetsinsideyouandstartstofillyouup,andafterawhileyoudon’thavethestrengthtofightit. It’seasierjusttositdownorgotosleep. Theysayyoudon’tfeelanypaintowardtheend. Firstyougoweakanddrowsy,andeverythingstartstofade, andthenit’slikesinkingintoaseaofwarmmilk.Peaceful,like." 

           "Sucheloquence,Gared,"SerWaymarobserved. "Ineversuspectedyouhaditinyou." 

           "I’vehadthecoldinmetoo,lordling." Garedpulledbackhishood,givingSerWaymaragoodlonglookatthestumps wherehisearshadbeen. "Twoears,threetoes,andthelittlefingeroffmylefthand. Igotofflight. Wefoundmybrotherfrozenathiswatch,withasmileonhisface." 

           SerWaymarshrugged. "Yououghtdressmorewarmly,Gared." 

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