grrm.astormofswords-第174部分

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ill　the　giant　found　the　strength　to　reach　through；　twist　the　head　off　Spotted　Pate；　seize　the　iron　gate；　and　wrench　the　bars　apart。　Links　of　broken　chain　lay　strewn　across　the　floor。　One　giant。　All　this　was　the　work　of　one　giant。
　〃Are　they　all　dead？〃　Maester　Aemon　asked　softly。
　〃Yes。　Donal　was　the　last。〃　Noye's　sword　was　sunk　deep　in　the　giant's　throat；　halfway　to　the　hilt。　The　armorer　had　always　seemed　such　a　big　man　to　Jon；　but　locked　in　the　giant's　massive　arms　he　looked　almost　like　a　child。　〃The　giant　crushed　his　spine。　I　don't　know　who　died　first。〃　He　took　the　lantern　and　moved　forward　for　a　better　look。　〃Mag。〃　I　am　the　last　of　the　giants。　He　could　feel　the　sadness　there；　but　he　had　no　time　for　sadness。　〃It　was　Mag　the　Mighty。　The　king　of　the　giants。〃
　He　needed　sun　then。　It　was　too　cold　and　dark　inside　the　tunnel；　and　the　stench　of　blood　and　death　was　suffocating。　Jon　gave　the　lantern　back　to　Clydas；　squeezed　around　the　bodies　and　through　the　twisted　bars；　and　walked　toward　the　daylight　to　see　what　lay　beyond　the　splintered　door。
　The　huge　carcass　of　a　dead　mammoth　partially　blocked　the　way。　One　of　the　beast's　tusks　snagged　his　cloak　and　tore　it　as　he　edged　past。　Three　more　giants　lay　outside；　half　buried　beneath　stone　and　slush　and　hardened　pitch。　He　could　see　where　the　fire　had　melted　the　Wall；　where　great　sheets　of　ice　had　e　sloughing　off　in　the　heat　to　shatter　on　the　blackened　ground。　He　looked　up　at　where　they'd　e　from。　When　you　stand　here　it　seems　immense；　as　if　it　were　about　to　crush　you。
　Jon　went　back　inside　to　where　the　others　waited。　〃We　need　to　repair　the　outer　gate　as　best　we　can　and　then　block　up　this　section　of　the　tunnel。　Rubble；　chunks　of　ice；　anything。　All　the　way　to　the　second　gate；　if　we　can。　Ser　Wynton　will　need　to　take　mand；　he's　the　last　knight　left；　but　he　needs　to　move　now；　the　giants　will　be　back　before　we　know　it。　We　have　to　tell　him…〃
　〃Tell　him　what　you　will；〃　said　Maester　Aemon；　gently。　〃He　will　smile；　nod；　and　forget。　Thirty　years　ago　Ser　Wynton　Stout　came　within　a　dozen　votes　of　being　Lord　mander。　He　would　have　made　a　fine　one。　Ten　years　ago　he　would　still　have　been　capable。　No　longer。　You　know　that　as　well　as　Donal　did；　Jon。〃
　It　was　true。　〃You　give　the　order；　then；〃　Jon　told　the　maester。　〃You　have　been　on　the　Wall　your　whole　life；　the　men　will　follow　you。　We　have　to　close　the　gate。〃
　〃I　am　a　maester　chained　and　sworn。　My　order　serves；　Jon。　We　give　counsel；　not　mands。〃
　〃Someone　must…〃
　〃You。　You　must　lead。〃　
　〃No。〃　
　〃Yes；　Jon。　It　need　not　be　for　long。　Only　until　such　time　as　the　garrison　returns。　Donal　chose　you；　and　Qhorin　Halfhand　before　him。　Lord　mander　Mormont　made　you　his　steward。　You　are　a　son　of　Winterfell；　a　nephew　of　Benjen　Stark。　It　must　be　you　or　no　one。　The　Wall　is　yours；　Jon　Snow。〃
　
　CHAPTER　65
　ARYA
　
　She　could　feel　the　hole　inside　her　every　morning　when　she　woke。　It　wasn't　hunger；　though　sometimes　there　was　that　too。　It　was　a　hollow　place；　an　emptiness　where　her　heart　had　been；　where　her　brothers　had　lived；　and　her　parents。　Her　head　hurt　too。　Not　as　bad　as　it　had　at　first；　but　still　pretty　bad。　Arya　was　used　to　that；　though；　and　at　least　the　lump　was　going　down。　But　the　hole　inside　her　stayed　the　same。　The　hole　will　never　feel　any　better；　she　told　herself　when　she　went　to　sleep。
　Some　mornings　Arya　did　not　want　to　wake　at　all。　She　would　huddle　beneath　her　cloak　with　her　eyes　squeezed　shut　and　try　to　will　herself　back　to　sleep。　If　the　Hound　would　only　have　left　her　alone；　she　would　have　slept　all　day　and　all　night。
　And　dreamed。　That　was　the　best　part；　the　dreaming。　She　dreamed　of　wolves　most　every　night。　A　great　pack　of　wolves；　with　her　at　the　head。　She　was　bigger　than　any　of　them；　stronger；　swifter；　faster。　She　could　outrun　horses　and　outfight　lions。　When　she　bared　her　teeth　even　men　would　run　from　her；　her　belly　was　never　empty　long；　and　her　fur　kept　her　warm　even　when　the　wind　was　blowing　cold。　And　her　brothers　and　sisters　were　with　her；　many　and　more　of　them；　fierce　and　terrible　and　hers。　They　would　never　leave　her。
　But　if　her　nights　were　full　of　wolves；　her　days　belonged　to　the　dog。　Sandor　Clegane　made　her　get　up　every　morning；　whether　she　wanted　to　or　not。　He　would　curse　at　her　in　his　raspy　voice；　or　yank　her　to　her　feet　and　shake　her。　Once　he　dumped　a　helm　full　of　cold　water　all　over　her　head。　She　bounced　up　sputtering　and　shivering　and　tried　to　kick　him；　but　he　only　laughed。　〃Dry　off　and　feed　the　bloody　horses；〃　he　told　her；　and　she　did。
　They　had　two　now；　Stranger　and　a　sorrel　palfrey　mare　Arya　had　named　Craven；　because　Sandor　said　she'd　likely　run　off　from　the　Twins　the　same　as　them。　They'd　found　her　wandering　riderless　through　a　field　the　morning　after　the　slaughter。　She　was　a　good　enough　horse；　but　Arya　could　not　love　a　coward。　Stranger　would　have　fought。　Still；　she　tended　the　mare　as　best　she　knew。　It　was　better　than　riding　double　with　the　Hound。　And　Craven　might　have　been　a　coward；　but　she　was　young　and　strong　as　well。　Arya　thought　that　she　might　be　able　to　outrun　Stranger；　if　it　came　to　it。
　The　Hound　no　longer　watched　her　as　closely　as　he　had。　Sometimes　he　did　not　seem　to　care　whether　she　stayed　or　went；　and　he　no　longer　bound　her　up　in　a　cloak　at　night。　One　night　I'll　kill　him　in　his　sleep；　she　told　herself；　but　she　never　did。　One　day　I'll　ride　away　on　Craven；　and　he　won't　be　able　to　catch　me；　she　thought；　but　she　never　did　that　either。　Where　would　she　go？　Winterfell　was　gone。　Her　grandfather's　brother　was　at　Riverrun；　but　he　didn't　know　her；　no　more　than　she　knew　him。　Maybe　Lady　Smallwood　would　take　her　in　at　Acorn　Hall；　but　maybe　she　wouldn't。　Besides；　Arya　wasn't　even　sure　she　could　find　Acorn　Hall　again。　Sometimes　she　thought　she　might　go　back　to　Shama's　inn；　if　the　floods　hadn't　washed　it　away。　She　could　stay　with　Hot　Pie；　or　maybe　Lord　Beric　would　find　her　there。　Anguy　would　teach　her　to　use　a　bow；　and　she　could　ride　with　Gendry　and　be　an　outlaw；　like　Wenda　the　White　Fawn　in　the　songs。
　But　that　was　just　stupid；　like　something　Sansa　might　dream。　Hot　Pie　and　Gendry　had　left　her　just　as　soon　as　they　could；　and　Lord　Beric　and　the　outlaws　only　wanted　to　ransom　her；　just　like　the　Hound。　None　of　them　wanted　her　around。　They　were　never　my　pack；　not　even　Hot　Pie　and　Gendry。　I　was　stupid　to　think　so；　just　a　stupid　little　girl；　and　no　wolf　a　t　all。
　So　she　stayed　with　the　Hound。　They　rode　every　day；　never　sleeping　twice　in　the　same　place；　avoiding　towns　and　villages　and　castles　as　best　they　could。　Once　she　asked　Sandor　Clegane　where　they　were　going。　〃Away；〃　he　said。　〃That's　all　you　need　to　know。　You're　not　worth　spit　to　me　now；　and　I　don't　want　to　hear　your　whining。　I　should　have　let　you　run　into　that　bloody　castle。〃
　〃You　should　have；〃　she　agreed；　thinking　of　her　mother。
　〃You'd　be　dead　if　I　had。　You　ought　to　thank　me。　You　ought　to　sing　me　a　pretty　little　song；　the　way　your　sister　did。〃
　〃Did　you　hit　her　with　an　axe　too？〃
　〃I　hit　you　with　the　flat　of　the　axe；　you　stupid　little　bitch。　If　I'd　hit　you　with　the　blade　there'd　still　be　chunks　of　your　head　floating　down　the　Green　Fork。　Now　shut　your　bloody　mouth。　If　I　had　any　sense　I'd　give　you　to　the　silent　sisters。　They　cut　the　tongues　out　of　girls　who　talk　too　much。〃　That　wasn't　fair　of　him　to　say。　Aside　from　that　one　time；　Arya　hardly　talked　at　all。　Whole　days　passed　when　neither　of　them　said　anything。　She　was　too　empty　to　talk；　and　the　Hound　was　too　angry。　She　could　feel　the　fury　in　him；　she　could　see　it　on　his　face；　the　way　his　mouth　would　tighten　and　twist；　the　looks　he　gave　her。　Whenever　he　took　his　axe　to　chop　some　wood　for　a　fire；　he　would　slide　into　a　cold　rage；　hacking　savagely　at　the　tree　or　the　deadfall　or　the　broken　limb；　until　they　had　twenty　times　as　much　kindling　and　firewood　as　they'd　needed。　Sometimes　he　would　be　so　sore　and　tired　afterward　that　he　would　lie　down　and　go　right　to　sleep　without　even　lighting　a　fire。　Arya　hated　it　when　that　happened；　and　hated　him　too。　Those　were　the　nights　when　she　stared　the　longest　at　the　axe。　It　looks　awfully　heavy；　but　I　bet　I　could　swing　it。　She　wouldn't　hit　him　with　the　flat；　either。
　Sometimes　in　their　wanderings　they　glimpsed　other　people；　farmers　in　their　fields；　swineherds　with　their　pigs；　a　milkmaid　leading　a　cow；　a　squire　carrying　a　message　down　a　rutted　road。　She　never　wanted　to　speak　to　them　either。　it　was　as　if　they　lived　in　some　distant　land　and　spoke　a　queer　alien　tongue；　they　had　nothing　to　do　with　her；　or　her　with　them。
　Besides；　it　wasn't　safe　to　be　seen。　From　time　to　time　columns　of　horsemen　passed　down　the　winding　farm　roads；　the　twin　towers　of　Frey　flying　before　them。　〃Hunting　for　stray　northmen；〃　the　Hound　said　when　they　had　passed。　〃Any　time　you　hear　hooves；　get　your　head　down　fast；　it's　not　like　to　be　a　friend。〃
　One　day；　in　an　earthen　hollow　made　by　the　roots　of　a　fallen　oak；　they　came　face　to　face　with　another　survivor　of　the　Twins。　The　badge　on　his　breast　showed　a　pink　maiden　dancing　in　a　swirl　of　silk；　and　he　told　them　he　was　Ser　Marq　Piper's　man；　a　bowman；　though　he'd　lost　his　bow。　His　left　shoulder　was　all　twisted　and　swollen　where　it　met　his　arm；　a　blow　from　a　mace；　he　said；　it　had　broken　his　shoulder　and　smashed　his　chainmail　deep　into　his　flesh。　〃A　northman；　it　was；〃　he　wept。　〃His　badge　was　a　bloody　man；　and　he　saw　mine　and　made　a　jape；　red　man　and　pink　maiden；　maybe　they　should　get　together。　I　drank　to　his　Lord　Bolton；　he　drank　to　Ser　Marq；　and　we　drank　together　to　Lord　Edmure　and　Lady　Roslin　and　the　King　in　the　North。　And　then　he　killed　me。〃　His　eyes　were　fever　bright　when　he　said　that；　and　Arya　could　tell　that　it　was　true。　His　shoulder　was　swollen　grotesquely；　and　pus　and　blood　had　stained　his　whole　left　side。　There　was　a　stink　to　him　too。　He　smells　like　a　corpse。　The　man　begged　them　for　a　drink　of　wine。
　〃If　I'd　had　any　wine；　I'd　have　drunk　it　myself；〃　the　Hound　told　him。　〃I　can　give　you　water；　and　the　gift　of　mercy。〃
　The　archer　looked　at　him　a　long　while　before　he　said；　〃You're　Joffrey's　dog。〃
　〃My　own　dog　now。　Do　you　want　the　water？〃
　〃Aye。〃　The　man　swallowed。　〃And　the　mercy。　Please。〃
　They　had　passed　a　small　pond　a　short　ways　back。　Sandor　gave　Arya　his　helm　and　told　her　to　fill　it；　so　she　trudged　back　to　the　water's　edge。　Mud　squished　over　the　toe　of　her　boots。