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第188部分

grrm.astormofswords-第188部分

小说: grrm.astormofswords 字数: 每页4000字

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he put the deserters in them and sealed them up alive in the ice。 They have spears and horns and they all face north。 The seventy…nine sentinels; they're called。 They left their posts in life; so in death their watch goes on forever。 Years later; when Lord Ryswell was old and dying; he had himself carried to the Nightfort so he could take the black and stand beside his son。 He'd sent him back to the Wall for honor's sake; but he loved him still; so he came to share his watch。〃
 They spent half the day poking through the castle。 Some of the towers had fallen down and others looked unsafe; but they climbed the bell tower (the bells were gone) and the rookery (the birds were gone)。 Beneath the brewhouse they found a vault of huge oaken casks that boomed hollowly when Hodor knocked on them。 They found a library (the shelves and bins had collapsed; the books were gone; and rats were everywhere)。
 They found a dank and dim…lit dungeon with cells enough to hold five hundred captives; but when Bran grabbed hold of one of the rusted bars it broke off in his hand。 Only one crumbling wall remained of the great hall; the bathhouse seemed to be sinking into the ground; and a huge thornbush had conquered the practice yard outside the armory where black brothers had once labored with spear and shield and sword。 The armory and the forge still stood; however; though cobwebs; rats; and dust had taken the places of blades; bellows; and anvil。 Sometimes Summer would hear sounds that Bran seemed deaf to; or bare his teeth at nothing; the fur on the back of his neck bristling 。 。 。 but the Rat Cook never put in an appearance; nor the seventy…nine sentinels; nor Mad Axe。 Bran was much relieved。 Maybe it is only a ruined empty castle。
 By the time Meera returned; the sun was only a sword's breath above the western hills。 〃What did you see?〃 her brother Jojen asked her。
 〃I saw the haunted forest;〃 she said in a wistful tone。 〃Hills rising wild as far as the eye can see; covered with trees that no axe has ever touched。 I saw the sunlight glinting off a lake; and clouds sweeping in from the west。 I saw patches of old snow; and icicles long as pikes。 I even saw an eagle circling。 I think he saw me too。 I waved at him。〃
 〃Did you see a way down?〃 asked Jojen。
 She shook her head。 〃No。 It's a sheer drop; and the ice is so smooth I might be able to make the descent if I had a good rope and an axe to chop out handholds; but 。 。 。〃
 〃 。 。 。 but not us;〃 Jojen finished。
 〃No;〃 his sister agreed。 〃Are you sure this is the place you saw in your dream? Maybe we have the wrong castle。〃
 〃No。 This is the castle。 There is a gate here。〃
 Yes; thought Bran; but it's blocked by stone and ice。
 As the sun began to set the shadows of the towers lengthened and the wind blew harder; sending gusts of dry dead leaves rattling through the yards。 The gathering gloom put Bran in mind of another of Old Nan's stories; the tale of Night's King。 He had been the thirteenth man to lead the Night's Watch; she said; a warrior who knew no fear。 〃And that was the fault in him;〃 she would add; 〃for all men must know fear。〃 A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall; with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars。 Fearing nothing; he chased her and caught her and loved her; though her skin was cold as ice; and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well。
 He brought her back to the Nightfort and proclaimed her a queen and himself her king; and with strange sorceries he bound his Sworn Brothers to his will。 For thirteen years they had ruled; Night's King and his corpse queen; till finally the Stark of Winterfell and Joramun of the wildlings had joined to free the Watch from bondage。 After his fall; when it was found he had been sacrificing to the Others; all records of Night's King had been destroyed; his very name forbidden。
 〃Some say he was a Bolton;〃 Old Nan would always end。 〃Some say a Magnar out of Skagos; some say Umber; Flint; or Norrey。 Some would have you think he was a Woodfoot; from them who ruled Bear island before the ironmen came。 He never was。 He was a Stark; the brother of the man who brought him down。〃 She always pinched Bran on the nose then; he would never forget it。 〃He was a Stark of Winterfell; and who can say? Mayhaps his name was Brandon。 Mayhaps he slept in this very bed in this very room。〃
 No; Bran thought; but he walked in this castle; where we'll sleep tonight。 He did not like that notion very much at all。 Night's King was only a man by light of day; Old Nan would always say; but the night was his to rule。 And it's getting dark。
 The Reeds decided that they would sleep in the kitchens; a stone octagon with a broken dome。 it looked to offer better shelter than most of the other buildings; even though a crooked weirwood had burst up through the slate floor beside the huge central well; stretching slantwise toward the hole in the roof; its bone…white branches reaching for the sun。 It was a queer kind of tree; skinnier than any other weirwood that Bran had ever seen and faceless as well; but it made him feel as if the old gods were with him here; at least。
 That was the only thing he liked about the kitchens; though。 The roof was mostly there; so they'd be dry if it rained again; but he didn't think they would ever get warm here。 You could feel the cold seeping up through the slate floor。 Bran did not like the shadows either; or the huge brick ovens that surrounded them like open mouths; or the rusted meat hooks; or the scars and stains he saw in the butcher's block along one wall。 That was where the Rat Cook chopped the prince to pieces; he knew; and he baked the pie in one of these ovens。
 The well was the thing he liked the least; though。 It was a good twelve feet across; all stone; with steps built into its side; circling down and down into darkness。 The walls were damp and covered with niter; but none of them could see the water at the bottom; not even Meera with her sharp hunter's eyes。 〃Maybe it doesn't have a bottom;〃 Bran said uncertainly。
 Hodor peered over the knee…high lip of the well and said; 〃HODOR!〃 The word echoed down the well; 〃Hodorhodorhodorhodor;〃 fainter and fainter; 〃hodorhodorhodorhodor;〃 until it was less than a whisper。 Hodor looked startled。 Then he laughed; and bent to scoop a broken piece of slate off the floor。
 〃Hodor; don't!〃 said Bran; but too late。 Hodor tossed the slate over the edge。 〃You shouldn't have done that。 You don't know what's down there。 You might have hurt something; or 。 。 。 or woken something up。〃
 Hodor looked at him innocently。 〃Hodor?〃
 Far; far; far below; they heard the sound as the stone found water。 it wasn't a splash; not truly。 It was more a gulp; as if whatever was below had opened a quivering gelid mouth to swallow Hodor's stone。 Faint echoes traveled up the well; and for a moment Bran thought he heard something moving; thrashing about in the water。 〃Maybe we shouldn't stay here;〃 he said uneasily。
 〃By the well?〃 asked Meera。 〃Or in the Nightfort?〃
 〃Yes;〃 said Bran。
 She laughed; and sent Hodor out to gather wood。 Summer went too。 It was almost dark by then; and the direwolf wanted to hunt。
 Hodor returned alone with both arms full of deadwood and broken branches。 Jojen Reed took his flint and knife and set about lighting a fire while Meera boned the fish she'd caught at the last stream they'd crossed。 Bran wondered how many years had passed since there had last been a supper cooked in the kitchens of the Nightfort。 He wondered who had cooked it too; though maybe it was better not to know。
 When the flames were blazing nicely Meera put the fish on。 At least it's not a meat pie。 The Rat Cook had cooked the son of the Andal king in a big pie with onions; carrots; mushrooms; lots of pepper and salt; a rasher of bacon; and a dark red Domish wine。 Then he served him to his father; who praised the taste and had a second slice。 Afterward the gods transformed the cook into a monstrous white rat who could only cat his own young。 He had roamed the Nightfort ever since; devouring his children; but still his hunger was not sated。 〃It was not for murder that the gods cursed him;〃 Old Nan said; 〃nor for serving the Andal king his son 

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