Светът на Дж. Р. Р. Мартин и Песен за огън и лед - 32

Тирион разбра, че старецът е ужасно искрен, и изпита смътна загриженост към него. Лорд Мормон беше преживял по-голямата част от живота си на Вала и имаше нужда от вяра, че от всичките тези години е имало някакъв смисъл.

— Трябва да ги принудите да разберат. Казвам ви, милорд, тъмнината иде. В лесовете оттатък бродят диви твари, вълчища, мамути и снежни мечки, големи колкото бизони, а майстер Емон е виждал и още по-мрачни изчадия в сънищата си...

He was in deadly earnest, Tyrion realized. He felt faintly embarrassed for the old man.
Lord Mormont had spent a good part of his life on the Wall, and he needed to believe if
those years were to have any meaning.

„I promise, the king will hear of your need,“ Tyrion said gravely, „and I will speak to my father
and my brother Jaime as well.“ And he would. Tyrion Lannister was as good as his word. He left the rest
unsaid; that King Robert would ignore him, Lord Tywin would ask if he had taken leave of his senses,
and Jaime would only laugh.
„You are a young man, Tyrion,“ Mormont said. „How many winters have you seen?“
He shrugged. „Eight, nine. I misremember.“
„And all of them short.“
„As you say, my lord.“ He had been born in the dead of winter, a terrible cruel one that the maesters
said had lasted near three years, but Tyrion’s earliest memories were of spring.
„When I was a boy, it was said that a long summer always meant a long winter to come. This summer
has lasted nine years, Tyrion, and a tenth will soon be upon us. Think on that.“
„When I was a boy,“ Tyrion replied, „my wet nurse told me that one day, if men were good, the gods
would give the world a summer without ending. Perhaps we’ve been better than we thought, and the
Great Summer is finally at hand.“ He grinned.
The Lord Commander did not seem amused. „You are not fool enough to believe that, my lord. Already
the days grow shorter. There can be no mistake, Aemon has had letters from the Citadel, findings in
accord with his own. The end of summer stares us in the face.“ Mormont reached out and clutched
Tyrion tightly by the hand. „You must make them understand. I tell you, my lord, the darkness is coming.
There are wild things in the woods, direwolves and mammoths and snow bears the size of aurochs, and I have
seen darker shapes in my dreams.“

— По трима и една трета — уточни с прозявка Тирион.

Старецът като че ли не го чу. Протегна ръце към огъня да ги стопли.

— Казвате, че сир Алисър не става, но кого да сложа на негово място? Бенджен Старк го пратих да потърси сина на Йон Ройс, загуби се още на първия си обход с двама добри мъже, а ето че и него го няма. Момчето на Ройс беше много младо, но настоя на правото да си получи отряд, това е дългът му на рицар. Не исках да обидя баща му. — Мормон въздъхна тежко. — Ако и Бенджен не се върне, кого да пратя да търси него? До две години ще стана на седемдесет. Твърде стар и твърде уморен за бремето, което нося, но ако го оставя, кой ще го вдигне? Алисър Торн ли? Или Боуен Марш? Трябва да съм сляп като майстер Емон, за да не видя какво представляват те.

“Three and a third,” Tyrion said with a yawn.
Mormont scarcely seemed to hear him. The old man warmed his hands before the fire. “I sent Benjen Stark to search after Yohn Royce’s son, lost on his first ranging. The Royce boy was green as summer grass, yet he insisted on the honor of his own command, saying it was his due as a knight. I did not wish to offend his lord father, so I yielded. I sent him out with two men I deemed as good as any in the Watch. More fool I.”
“Fool,” the raven agreed. Tyrion glanced up. The bird peered down at him with those beady black eyes, ruffling its wings. “Fool,” it called again. Doubtless old Mormont would take it amiss if he throttled the creature. A pity.
The Lord Commander took no notice of the irritating bird. “Gared was near as old as I am and longer on the Wall,” he went on, “yet it would seem he forswore himself and fled. I should never have believed it, not of him, but Lord Eddard sent me his head from Winterfell. Of Royce, there is no word. One deserter and two men lost, and now Ben Stark too has gone missing.” He sighed deeply. “Who am I to send searching after him? In two years I will be seventy. Too old and too weary for the burden I bear, yet if I set it down, who will pick it up? Alliser Thorne? Bowen Marsh? I would have to be as blind as
Maester Aemon not to see what they are.

“Everything was done in the utmost secrecy by a handful of master pyromancers. They did not even trust their own acolytes to help. The queen’s eyes had been closed for years, and Rhaegar was busy marshaling an army.

The man who had cooked Lord Rickard Stark in his own armor. And all the time, I stood by the foot of the Iron Throne in my white plate, still as a corpse, guarding my liege and all his sweet secrets.