grrm.astormofswords-第102章

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　〃No　sorc…〃　he　began；　as　a　huge　bolt　of　lightning　stabbed　down　from　the　sky　and　touched　the　surface　of　the　lake。　For　half　a　heartbeat　the　world　was　noonday　bright。　The　clap　of　thunder　was　so　loud　that　Ygritte　gasped　and　covered　her　ears。
　〃Did　you　look？〃　Jon　asked；　as　the　sound　rolled　away　and　the　night　turned　black　again。　〃Did　you　see？〃
　〃Yellow；〃　she　said。　〃Is　that　what　you　meant？　Some　o'　them　standing　stones　on　top　were　yellow。〃
　〃We　call　them　merlons。　They　were　painted　gold　a　long　time　ago。　This　is　Queenscrown。〃
　Across　the　lake；　the　tower　was　black　again；　a　dim　shape　dimly　seen。　〃A　queen　lived　there？〃　asked　Ygritte。
　〃A　queen　stayed　there　for　a　night。〃　Old　Nan　had　told　him　the　story；　but　Maester　Luwin　had　confirmed　most　of　it。　〃Alysanne；　the　wife　of　King　jaehaerys　the　Conciliator。　He's　called　the　Old　King　because　he　reigned　so　long；　but　he　was　young　when　he　first　came　to　the　Iron　Throne。　In　those　days；　it　was　his　wont　to　travel　all　over　the　realm。　When　he　came　to　Winterfell；　he　brought　his　queen；　six　dragons；　and　half　his　court。　The　king　had　matters　to　discuss　with　his　Warden　of　the　North；　and　Alysanne　grew　bored；　so　she　mounted　her　dragon　Silverwing　and　flew　north　to　see　the　Wall。　This　village　was　one　of　the　places　where　she　stopped。　Afterward　the　smallfolk　painted　the　top　of　their　holdfast　to　look　like　the　golden　crown　she'd　worn　when　she　spent　the　night　among　them。〃
　〃I　have　never　seen　a　dragon。〃
　〃No　one　has。　The　last　dragons　died　a　hundred　years　ago　or　more。　But　this　was　before　that。〃
　〃Queen　Alysanne；　you　say？〃
　〃Good　Queen　Alysanne；　they　called　her　later。　One　of　the　castles　on　the　Wall　was　named　for　her　as　well。　Queensgate。　Before　her　visit　they　called　it　Snowgate。〃
　〃If　she　was　so　good；　she　should　have　torn　that　Wall　down。〃
　No；　he　thought。　The　Wall　protects　the　realm。　From　the　Others　。　。　。　and　from　you　and　your　kind　as　well；　sweetling。　〃I　had　another　friend　who　dreamed　of　dragons。　A　dwarf。　He　told　me…〃
　〃JON　SNOW！〃　One　of　the　Thenns　loomed　above　them；　frowning。　〃Magnar　wants。〃　Jon　thought　it　might　have　been　the　same　man　who'd　found　him　outside　the　cave；　the　night　before　they　climbed　the　Wall；　but　he　could　not　be　sure。　He　got　to　his　feet。　Ygritte　came　with　him；　which　always　made　Styr　frown；　but　whenever　he　tried　to　dismiss　her　she　would　remind　him　that　she　was　a　free　woman；　not　a　kneeler。　She　came　and　went　as　she　pleased。
　They　found　the　Magnar　standing　beneath　the　tree　that　grew　through　the　floor　of　the　mon　room。　His　captive　knelt　before　the　hearth；　encircled　by　wooden　spears　and　bronze　swords。　He　watched　Jon　approach；　but　did　not　speak。　The　rain　was　running　down　the　walls　and　pattering　against　the　last　few　leaves　that　still　clung　to　the　tree；　while　smoke　swirled　thick　from　the　fire。
　〃He　must　die；〃　Styr　the　Magnar　said。　〃Do　it；　crow。〃
　The　old　man　said　no　word。　He　only　looked　at　Jon；　standing　amongst　the　wildlings。　Amidst　the　rain　and　smoke；　lit　only　by　the　fire；　he　could　not　have　seen　that　Jon　was　all　in　black；　but　for　his　sheepskin　cloak。　Or　could　he？
　Jon　drew　Longclaw　from　its　sheath。　Rain　washed　the　steel；　and　the　firelight　traced　a　sullen　orange　line　along　the　edge。　Such　a　small　fire；　to　cost　a　man　his　life。　He　remembered　what　Qhorin　Halfhand　had　said　when　they　spied　the　fire　in　the　Skirling　Pass。　Fire　is　life　up　here；　he　told　them；　but　it　can　be　death　as　well。　That　was　high　in　the　Frostfangs；　though；　in　the　lawless　wild　beyond　the　Wall。　This　was　the　Gift；　protected　by　the　Night's　Watch　and　the　power　of　Winterfell。　A　man　should　have　been　free　to　build　a　fire　here；　without　dying　for　it。
　〃Why　do　you　hesitate？〃　Styr　said。　〃Kill　him；　and　be　done。〃
　Even　then　the　captive　did　not　speak。　〃Mercy；〃　he　might　have　said；　or　〃You　have　taken　my　horse；　my　coin；　my　food；　let　me　keep　my　life；〃　or　〃No；　please；　I　have　done　you　no　harm。〃　He　might　have　said　a　thousand　things；　or　wept；　or　called　upon　his　gods。　No　words　would　save　him　now；　though。　Perhaps　he　knew　that。　So　he　held　his　tongue；　and　looked　at　Jon　in　accusation　and　appeal。
　You　must　not　balk；　whatever　is　asked　of　you。　Ride　with　them；　eat　with　them；　fight　with　them　。　。　。　But　this　old　man　had　offered　no　resistance。　He　had　been　unlucky；　that　was　all。　Who　he　was；　where　he　came　from；　where　he　meant　to　go　on　his　sorry　sway…backed　horse　。　。　。　none　of　it　mattered。
　He　is　an　old　man；　Jon　told　himself。　Fifty；　maybe　even　sixty。　He　lived　a　longer　life　than　most。　The　Thenns　will　kill　him　anyway；　nothing　I　can　say　or　do　will　save　him。　Longclaw　seemed　heavier　than　lead　in　his　hand；　too　heavy　to　lift。　The　man　kept　staring　at　him；　with　eyes　as　big　and　black　as　wells。　I　will　fall　into　those　eyes　and　drown。　The　Magnar　was　looking　at　him　too；　and　he　could　almost　taste　the　mistrust。　The　man　is　dead。　What　matter　if　it　is　my　hand　that　slays　him？　One　cut　would　do　it；　quick　and　clean。　Longclaw　was　forged　of　Valyrian　steel。　Like　Ice。　Jon　remembered　another　killing；　the　deserter　on　his　knees；　his　head　rolling；　the　brightness　of　blood　on　snow　。　。　。　his　father's　sword；　his　father's　words；　his　father's　face　。　。　。
　〃Do　it；　Jon　Snow；〃　Ygritte　urged。　〃You　must。　To　prove　you　are　no　crow；　but　one　o'　the　free　folk。〃
　〃An　old　man　sitting　by　a　fire？〃
　〃Orell　was　sitting　by　a　fire　too。　You　killed　him　quick　enough。〃　The　look　she　gave　him　then　was　hard。　〃You　meant　t'　kill　me　too；　till　you　saw　I　was　a　woman。　And　I　was　asleep。〃
　〃That　was　different。　You　were　soldiers　。　。　。　sentries。〃
　〃Aye；　and　you　crows　didn't　want　to　be　seen。　No　moren　we　do；　now。　It's　just　the　same。　Kill　him。〃
　He　turned　his　back　on　the　man。　〃No。〃
　The　Magnar　moved　closer；　tall；　cold；　and　dangerous。　〃I　say　yes。　I　mand　here。〃
　〃You　mand　Therms；〃　Jon　told　him；　〃not　free　folk。〃
　〃I　see　no　free　folk。　I　see　a　crow　and　a　crow　wife。〃
　〃I'm　no　crow　wife！〃　Ygritte　snatched　her　knife　from　its　sheath。　Three　quick　strides；　and　she　yanked　the　old　man's　head　back　by　the　hair　and　opened　his　throat　from　ear　to　ear。　Even　in　death；　the　man　did　not　cry　out。　〃You　know　nothing；　Jon　Snow！〃　she　shouted　at　him；　and　flung　the　bloody　blade　at　his　feet。
　The　Magnar　said　something　in　the　Old　Tongue。　He　might　have　been　telling　the　Therms　to　kill　Jon　where　he　stood；　but　he　would　never　know　the　truth　of　that。　Lightning　crashed　down　from　the　sky；　a　searing　bluewhite　bolt　that　touched　the　top　of　the　tower　in　the　lake。　They　could　smell　the　fury　of　it；　and　when　the　thunder　came　it　seemed　to　shake　the　night。
　And　death　leapt　down　amongst　them。
　The　lightning　flash　left　Jon　night…blind；　but　he　glimpsed　the　hurtling　shadow　half　a　heartbeat　before　he　heard　the　shriek。　The　first　Therm　died　as　the　old　man　had；　blood　gushing　from　his　torn　throat。　Then　the　light　was　gone　and　the　shape　was　spinning　away；　snarling；　and　another　man　went　down　in　the　dark。　There　were　curses；　shouts；　howls　of　pain。　Jon　saw　Big　Boil　stumble　backward　and　knock　down　three　men　behind　him。　Ghost；　he　thought　for　one　mad　instant。　Ghost　leapt　the　Wall。　Then　the　lightning　turned　the　night　to　day；　and　he　saw　the　wolf　standing　on　Del's　chest；　blood　running　black　from　his　jaws。　Grey。　He's　grey。
　Darkness　descended　with　the　thunderclap。　The　Therms　were　jabbing　with　their　spears　as　the　wolf　darted　between　them。　The　old　man's　mare　reared；　maddened　by　the　smell　of　slaughter；　and　lashed　out　with　her　hooves。　Longclaw　was　still　in　his　hand。　All　at　once　Jon　Snow　knew　he　would　never　get　a　better　chance。
　He　cut　down　the　first　man　as　he　turned　toward　the　wolf；　shoved　past　a　second；　slashed　at　a　third。　Through　the　madness　he　heard　someone　call　his　name；　but　whether　it　was　Ygritte　or　the　Magnar　he　could　not　say。　The　Thenn　fighting　to　control　the　horse　never　saw　him。　Longclaw　was　feather…light。　He　swung　at　the　back　of　the　man's　calf；　and　felt　the　steel　bite　down　to　the　bone。　When　the　wildling　fell　the　mare　bolted；　but　somehow　Jon　managed　to　grab　her　mane　with　his　off　hand　and　vault　himself　onto　her　back。　A　hand　closed　round　his　ankle；　and　he　hacked　down　and　saw　Bodger's　face　dissolve　in　a　welter　of　blood。　The　horse　reared；　lashing　out。　one　hoof　caught　a　Thenn　in　the　temple；　with　a　crunch。
　And　then　they　were　running。　Jon　made　no　effort　to　guide　the　horse。　It　was　all　he　could　do　to　stay　on　her　as　they　plunged　through　mud　and　rain　and　thunder。　Wet　grass　whipped　at　his　face　and　a　spear　flew　past　his　ear。　If　the　horse　stumbles　and　breaks　a　leg；　they　will　run　me　down　and　kill　me；　he　thought；　but　the　old　gods　were　with　him　and　the　horse　did　not　stumble。　Lightning　shivered　through　the　black　dome　of　sky；　and　thunder　rolled　across　the　plains。　The　shouts　dwindled　and　died　behind　him。
　Long　hours　later；　the　rain　stopped。　Jon　found　himself　alone　in　a　sea　of　tall　black　grass。　There　was　a　deep　throbbing　ache　in　his　right　thigh。　When　he　looked　down；　he　was　surprised　to　see　an　arrow　jutting　out　the　back　of　it。　When　did　that　happen？　He　grabbed　hold　of　the　shaft　and　gave　it　a　tug；　but　the　arrowhead　was　sunk　deep　in　the　meat　of　his　leg；　and　the　pain　when　he　pulled　on　it　was　excruciating。　He　tried　to　think　back　on　the　madness　at　the　inn；　but　all　he　could　remember　was　the　beast；　gaunt　and　grey　and　terrible。　It　was　too　large　to　be　a　mon　wolf。　A　direwolf；　then。　It　had　to　be。　He　had　never　seen　an　animal　move　so　fast。　Like　a　grey　wind　。　。　。　Could　Robb　have　returned　to　the　north？
　Jon　shook　his　head。　He　had　no　answers。　It　was　too　hard　to　think　。　。　。　about　the　wolf；　the　old　man；　Ygritte；　any　of　it　。　。　。
　Clumsily；　he　slid　down　off　the　mare's　back。　His　wounded　leg　buckled　under　him；　and　he　had　to　swallow　a　scream。　This　is　going　to　be　agony。　The　arrow　had　to　e　out；　though；　and　nothing　good　could　e　of　waiting。　Jon　curled　his　hand　around　the　fletching；　took　a　deep　breath；　and　shoved　the　arrow　forward。　He　grunted；　then　cursed。　It　hurt　so　much　he　had　to　stop。　I　am　bleeding　like　a　butchered　pig；　he　thought；　but　there　was　nothing　to　be　done　for　it　until　the　arrow　was　out。　He　grimaced　and　tried　again　。　。　。　and　soon　stopped　again；　trembling。　Once　more。　This　time　he　screamed；　but　when　he　was　done　the　arrowhead　was　poking　through　the　front　of　his　thigh。　Jon　pushed　back　his　bloody　breeches　to　get　a　better　grip；　grimaced；　and　slowly　drew　the　shaft　through　his　leg。　How　he　got　through　that　without　fainting　he　never　knew。
　He　lay　on　the　ground　afterward；　clutching　his　prize　and　bleeding　quietly；　too　weak　to　move。　After　a　while；　he　realized　that　if　he　did　not　make　himself　move　he　was　like　to　bleed　to　death。　Jon　crawled　to　the　shallow　stream　where　the　mare　was　drinking；　washed　his　thigh　in　the　cold　water；　and　bound　it　tight　with　a　strip　of　cloth　torn　from　his　cloak。　He　washed　the　arrow　too；　turning　it　in　his　hands。　Was　the　fletching　grey；　or　white？　Ygritte　fletched　her　arrows　with　pale　grey　goose　feathers。　Did　she　loose　a　shaft　at　me　as　I　fled？　Jon　could　not　blame　her　for　that。　He　wondered　if　she'd　been　aiming　for　him　or　the　horse。　If　the　mare　had　gone　down；　he　would　have　been　doomed。　〃A　lucky　thing　my　leg　got　in　the　way；〃　he　muttered。
　He　rested　for　a　while　to　let　the　horse　graze。　She　did　not　wander　far。　That　was　good。　Hobbled　with　a　bad　leg；　he　could　never　have　caught　her。　It　was　all　he　could　do　to　force　himself　back　to　his　feet　and　climb　onto　her　back。　How　did　I　ever　mount　her　before；　without　saddle　or　stirrups；　and　a　sword　in　one　hand？　That　was　another　question　he　could　not　answer。
　Thunder　rumbled　softly