Битва королей

Jon

           Youcangoovermountainsthatahorsemustgoaround.MakefortheFist.TellMormontwhatJonsaw,andhow.Tellhimthattheoldpowersarewaking,thathefacesgiantsandwargsandworse.Tellhimthatthetreeshaveeyesagain."

           Hehasnochance,JonthoughtwhenhewatchedStonesnakevanishoverasnow-coveredridge,atinyblackbugcrawlingacrossaripplingexpanseofwhite.

           Afterthat,everynightseemedcolderthanthenightbefore,andmorelonely.Ghostwasnotalwayswiththem,buthewasneverfareither.Evenwhentheywereapart,Jonsensedhisnearness.Hewasgladforthat.TheHalfhandwasnotthemostcompanionableofmen.Qhorin’slonggreybraidswungslowlywiththemotionofhishorse.Oftentheywouldrideforhourswithoutawordspoken,theonlysoundsthesoftscrapeofhorseshoesonstoneandthekeeningofthewind,whichblewendlesslythroughtheheights.Whenheslept,hedidnotdream;notofwolves,norhisbrothers,noranything.Evendreamscannotliveuphere,hetoldhimself.

           "Isyourswordsharp,JonSnow?"askedQhorinHalfhandacrosstheflickeringfire.

           "MyswordisValyriansteel.TheOldBeargaveittome."

           "Doyourememberthewordsofyourvow?"

           "Yes."Theywerenotwordsamanwasliketoforget.Oncesaid,theycouldneverbeunsaid.Theychangedyourlifeforever.

           "Saythemagainwithme,JonSnow."

           "Ifyoulike."

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