Битва королей

Prologue

           Thoughhewasnotyetfive-and-thirty,onlyafringeofthinblackhairremainedonhishead,circlingbehindhisearsliketheshadowofacrown.Hisbrother,thelateKingRobert,hadgrownabeardinhisfinalyears.MaesterCressenhadneverseenit,buttheysaiditwasawildthing,thickandfierce.Asifinanswer,Stanniskepthisownwhiskerscroppedtightandshort.Theylaylikeablue-blackshadowacrosshissquarejawandthebonyhollowsofhischeeks.Hiseyeswereopenwoundsbeneathhisheavybrows,ablueasdarkastheseabynight.Hismouthwouldhavegivendespairtoeventhedrollestoffools;itwasamouthmadeforfrownsandscowlsandsharplywordedcommands,allthinpalelipsandclenchedmuscles,amouththathadforgottenhowtosmileandhadneverknownhowtolaugh.Sometimeswhentheworldgrewverystillandsilentofanight,MaesterCressenfanciedhecouldhearLordStannisgrindinghisteethhalfacastleaway.

           "Onceyouwouldhavewokenme,"theoldmansaid.

           "Onceyouwereyoung.Nowyouareoldandsick,andneedyoursleep."Stannishadneverlearnedtosoftenhisspeech,todissembleorflatter;hesaidwhathethought,andthosethatdidnotlikeitcouldbedamned."Iknewyou’dlearnwhatDavoshadtosaysoonenough.Youalwaysdo,don’tyou?"

           "IwouldbeofnohelptoyouifIdidnot,"Cressensaid."ImetDavosonthestair."

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 18 из 1267