grrm.astormofswords-第255部分

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for？〃　he　growled。
　Her　knuckles　brushed　the　steel　the　first　time　she　filled　the　cup；　burning　her　so　badly　she　got　blisters。　Arya　had　to　bite　her　lip　to　keep　from　screaming。　The　Hound　used　the　stick　for　the　same　purpose；　clamping　it　between　his　teeth　as　she　poured。　She　did　the　gash　in　his　thigh　first；　then　the　shallower　cut　on　the　back　of　his　neck。　Sandor　coiled　his　right　hand　into　a　fist　and　beat　against　the　ground　when　she　did　his　leg。　When　it　came　to　his　neck；　he　bit　the　stick　so　hard　it　broke；　and　she　had　to　find　him　a　new　one。　She　could　see　the　terror　in　his　eyes。　〃Turn　your　head。〃　She　trickled　the　wine　down　over　the　raw　red　flesh　where　his　ear　had　been；　and　fingers　of　brown　blood　and　red　wine　crept　over　his　jaw。　He　did　scream　then；　despite　the　stick。　Then　he　passed　out　from　the　pain。
　Arya　figured　the　rest　out　by　herself。　She　fished　the　strips　they'd　made　of　the　squire's　cloak　out　of　the　bottom　of　the　helm　and　used　them　to　bind　the　cuts。　When　she　came　to　his　ear；　she　had　to　wrap　up　half　his　head　to　stop　the　bleeding。　By　then　dusk　was　settling　over　the　Trident。　She　let　the　horses　graze；　then　hobbled　them　for　the　night　and　made　herself　as　fortable　as　she　could　in　a　niche　between　two　rocks。　The　fire　burned　a　while　and　died。　Arya　watched　the　moon　through　the　branches　overhead。
　〃Ser　Gregor　the　Mountain；〃　she　said　softly。　〃Dunsen；　Raff　the　Sweetling；　Ser　Ilyn；　Ser　Meryn；　Queen　Cersei。〃　It　made　her　feel　queer　to　leave　out　Polliver　and　the　Tickler。　And　Joffrey　too。　She　was　glad　he　was　dead；　but　she　wished　she　could　have　been　there　to　see　him　die；　or　maybe　kill　him　herself。　Polliver　said　that　Sansa　killed　him；　and　the　Imp。　Could　that　be　true？　The　Imp　was　a　Lannister；　and　Sansa　。　。　。　I　wish　I　could　change　into　a　wolf　and　grow　wings　and　fly　away。
　If　Sansa　was　gone　too；　there　were　no　more　Starks　but　her。　Jon　was　on　the　Wall　a　thousand　leagues　away；　but　he　was　a　Snow；　and　these　different　aunts　and　uncles　the　Hound　wanted　to　sell　her　to；　they　weren't　Starks　either。　They　weren't　wolves。
　Sandor　moaned；　and　she　rolled　onto　her　side　to　look　at　him。　She　had　left　his　name　out　too；　she　realized。　Why　had　she　done　that？　She　tried　to　think　of　Mycah；　but　it　was　hard　to　remember　what　he'd　looked　like。　She　hadn't　known　him　long。　All　he　ever　did　was　play　at　swords　with　me。　〃The　Hound；〃　she　whispered；　and；　〃Valar　morghulis。〃　Maybe　he'd　be　dead　by　morning　。　。　。
　But　when　the　pale　dawn　light　came　filtering　through　the　trees；　it　was　him　who　woke　her　with　the　toe　of　his　boot。　She　had　dreamed　she　was　a　wolf　again；　chasing　a　riderless　horse　up　a　hill　with　a　pack　behind　her；　but　his　foot　brought　her　back　just　as　they　were　closing　for　the　kill。
　The　Hound　was　still　weak；　every　movement　slow　and　clumsy。　He　slumped　in　the　saddle；　and　sweated；　and　his　ear　began　to　bleed　through　the　bandage。　He　needed　all　his　strength　just　to　keep　from　falling　off　Stranger。　Had　the　Mountain's　men　e　hunting　them；　she　doubted　if　he　would　even　be　able　to　lift　a　sword。　Arya　glanced　over　her　shoulder；　but　there　was　nothing　behind　them　but　a　crow　flitting　from　tree　to　tree。　The　only　sound　was　the　river。
　Long　before　noon；　Sandor　Clegane　was　reeling。　There　were　hours　of　daylight　still　remaining　when　he　called　a　halt。　〃I　need　to　rest；〃　was　all　he　said。　This　time　when　he　dismounted　he　did　fall。　Instead　of　trying　to　get　back　up　he　crawled　weakly　under　a　tree；　and　leaned　up　against　the　trunk。　〃Bloody　hell；〃　he　cursed。　〃Bloody　hell。〃　When　he　saw　Arya　staring　at　him；　he　said；　〃I'd　skin　you　alive　for　a　cup　of　wine；　girl。〃
　She　brought　him　water　instead。　He　drank　a　little　of　it；　plained　that　it　tasted　of　mud；　and　slid　into　a　noisy　fevered　sleep。　When　she　touched　him；　his　skin　was　burning　up。　Arya　sniffed　at　his　bandages　the　way　Maester　Luwin　had　done　sometimes　when　treating　her　cut　or　scrape。　His　face　had　bled　the　worst；　but　it　was　the　wound　on　his　thigh　that　smelled　funny　to　her。
　She　wondered　how　far　this　Saltpans　was；　and　whether　she　could　find　it　by　herself。　I　wouldn't　have　to　kill　him。　If　I　just　rode　off　and　left　him；　he'd　die　all　by　himself。　He'll　die　of　fever；　and　lie　there　beneath　that　tree　until　the　end　of　days。　But　maybe　it　would　be　better　if　she　killed　him　herself。　She　had　killed　the　squire　at　the　inn　and　he　hadn't　done　anything　except　grab　her　arm。　The　Hound　had　killed　Mycah。　Mycah　and　more。　I　bet　he's　killed　a　hundred　Mycahs。　He　probably　would　have　killed　her　too；　if　not　for　the　ransom。
　Needle　glinted　as　she　drew　it。　Polliver　had　kept　it　nice　and　sharp；　at　least。　She　turned　her　body　sideways　in　a　water　dancer's　stance　without　even　thinking　about　it。　Dead　leaves　crunched　beneath　her　feet。　Quick　as　a　snake；　she　thought。　Smooth　as　summer　silk。
　His　eyes　opened。　〃You　remember　where　the　heart　is？〃　he　asked　in　a　hoarse　whisper。
　As　still　as　stone　she　stood。　〃I　。　。　。　I　was　only　。　。　。〃
　〃Don't　lie；〃　he　growled。　〃I　hate　liars。　I　hate　gutless　frauds　even　worse。
　Go　on；　do　it。〃　When　Arya　did　not　move；　he　said；　〃I　killed　your　butcher's　boy。　I　cut　him　near　in　half；　and　laughed　about　it　after。〃　He　made　a　queer　sound；　and　it　took　her　a　moment　to　realize　he　was　sobbing。　〃And　the　little　bird；　your　pretty　sister；　I　stood　there　in　my　white　cloak　and　let　them　beat　her。　I　took　the　bloody　song；　she　never　gave　it。　I　meant　to　take　her　too。　I　should　have。　I　should　have　fucked　her　bloody　and　ripped　her　heart　out　before　leaving　her　for　that　dwarf。〃　A　spasm　of　pain　twisted　his　face。　〃Do　you　mean　to　make　me　beg；　bitch？　Do　it！　The　gift　of　mercy　。　。　。　avenge　your　little　Michael　。　。　。〃
　〃Mycah。〃　Arya　stepped　away　from　him。　〃You　don't　deserve　the　gift　of　mercy。〃
　The　Hound　watched　her　saddle　Craven　through　eyes　bright　with　fever。　Not　once　did　he　attempt　to　rise　and　stop　her。　But　when　she　mounted；　he　said；　〃A　real　wolf　would　finish　a　wounded　animal。〃
　Maybe　some　real　wolves　will　find　you；　Arya　thought。　Maybe　they'll　smell　you　when　the　sun　goes　down。　Then　he　would　learn　what　wolves　did　to　dogs。　〃You　shouldn't　have　hit　me　with　an　axe；〃　she　said。　〃You　should　have　saved　my　mother。〃　She　turned　her　horse　and　rode　away　from　him；　and　never　looked　back　once。
　On　a　bright　morning　six　days　later；　she　came　to　a　place　where　the　Trident　began　to　widen　out　and　the　air　smelled　more　of　salt　than　trees。　She　stayed　close　to　the　water；　passing　fields　and　farms；　and　a　little　after　midday　a　town　appeared　before　her。　Saltpans；　she　hoped。　A　small　castle　dominated　the　town；　no　more　than　a　holdfast；　really；　a　single　tall　square　keep　with　a　bailey　and　a　curtain　wall。　Most　of　the　shops　and　inns　and　alehouses　around　the　harbor　had　been　plundered　or　burned；　though　some　looked　still　inhabited。　But　the　port　was　there；　and　eastward　spread　the　Bay　of　Crabs；　its　waters　shimmering　blue　and　green　in　the　sun。
　And　there　were　ships。
　Three；　thought　Arya；　there　are　three。　Two　were　only　river　galleys；　shallow　draft　boats　made　to　ply　the　waters　of　the　Trident。　The　third　was　bigger；　a　salt　sea　trader　with　two　banks　of　oars；　a　gilded　prow；　and　three　tall　masts　with　furled　purple　sails。　Her　hull　was　painted　purple　too。　Arya　rode　Craven　down　to　the　docks　to　get　a　better　look。　Strangers　are　not　so　strange　in　a　port　as　they　are　in　little　villages；　and　no　one　seemed　to　care　who　she　was　or　why　she　was　here。
　I　need　silver。　The　realization　made　her　bite　her　lip。　They　had　found　a　stag　and　a　dozen　coppers　on　Polliver；　eight　silvers　on　the　pimply　squire　she'd　killed；　and　only　a　couple　of　pennies　in　the　Tickler's　purse。　But　the　Hound　had　told　her　to　pull　off　his　boots　and　slice　open　his　blood…drenched　clothes；　and　she'd　turned　up　a　stag　in　each　toe；　and　three　golden　dragons　sewn　in　the　lining　of　his　jerkin。　Sandor　had　kept　it　all；　though。　That　wasn't　fair。　It　was　mine　as　much　as　his。　If　she　had　given　him　the　gift　of　mercy　。　。　。　she　hadn't；　though。　She　couldn't　go　back；　no　more　than　she　could　beg　for　help。　Begging　for　help　never　gets　you　any。　She　would　have　to　sell　Craven；　and　hope　she　brought　enough。
　The　stable　had　been　burnt；　she　learned　from　a　boy　by　the　docks；　but　the　woman　who'd　owned　it　was　still　trading　behind　the　sept。　Arya　found　her　easily；　a　big；　robust　woman　with　a　good　horsey　smell　to　her。　She　liked　Craven　at　first　look；　asked　Arya　how　she'd　e　by　her；　and　grinned　at　her　answer。　〃She's　a　well…bred　horse；　that's　plai