grrm.astormofswords-第159章

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slices　long　enough　they　softened　up；　and　tasted　good。　Craster's　wives　seasoned　them　with　garlic。
　After　they　had　finished；　Sam　begged　her　pardon　and　went　out　to　relieve　himself　and　look　after　the　horse。　A　biting　wind　was　blowing　from　the　north；　and　the　leaves　in　the　trees　rattled　at　him　as　he　passed。　He　had　to　break　the　thin　scum　of　ice　on　top　of　the　stream　so　the　horse　could　get　a　drink。　I　had　better　bring　her　inside。　He　did　not　want　to　wake　up　at　break　of　day　to　find　that　their　horse　had　frozen　to　death　during　the　night。　Gilly　would　keep　going　even　if　that　happened。　The　girl　was　very　brave；　not　like　him。　He　wished　he　knew　what　he　was　going　to　do　with　her　back　at　Castle　Black。　She　kept　saying　how　she'd　be　his　wife　if　he　wanted；　but　black　brothers　didn't　keep　wives；　besides；　he　was　a　Tarly　of　Horn　Hill；　he　could　never　wed　a　wildling。　I'll　have　to　think　of　something。　So　long　as　we　reach　the　Wall　alive；　the　rest　doesn't　matter；　it　doesn't　matter　one　little　bit。
　Leading　the　horse　to　the　longhall　was　simple　enough。　Getting　her　through　the　door　was　not；　but　Sam　persisted。　Gilly　was　already　dozing　by　the　time　he　got　the　garron　inside。　He　hobbled　the　horse　in　a　corner；　fed　some　fresh　wood　to　the　fire；　took　off　his　heavy　cloak；　and　wriggled　down　under　the　furs　beside　the　wildling　woman。　His　cloak　was　big　enough　to　cover　all　three　of　them　and　keep　in　the　warmth　of　their　bodies。
　Gilly　smelled　of　milk　and　garlic　and　musty　old　fur；　but　he　was　used　to　that　by　now。　They　were　good　smells；　so　far　as　Sam　was　concerned。　He　liked　sleeping　next　to　her。　it　made　him　remember　times　long　past；　when　he　had　shared　a　huge　bed　at　Hom　Hill　with　two　of　his　sisters。　That　had　ended　when　Lord　Randyll　decided　it　was　making　him　soft　as　a　girl。　Sleeping　alone　in　my　own　cold　cell　never　made　me　any　harder　or　braver；　though。　He　wondered　what　his　father　would　say　if　he　could　see　him　now。　I　killed　one　of　the　Others；　my　lord；　he　imagined　saying。　I　stabbed　him　with　an　obsidian　dagger；　and　my　Sworn　Brothers　call　me　Sam　the　Slayer　now　But　even　in　his　fancies；　Lord　Randyll　only　scowled；　disbelieving。
　His　dreams　were　strange　that　night。　He　was　back　at　Horn　Hill；　at　the　castle；　but　his　father　was　not　there。　It　was　Sam's　castle　now。　Jon　Snow　was　with　him。　Lord　Mormont　too；　the　Old　Bear；　and　Grerm　and　Dolorous　Edd　and　Pyp　and　Toad　and　all　his　other　brothers　from　the　Watch；　but　they　wore　bright　colors　instead　of　black。　Sam　sat　at　the　high　table　and　feasted　them　all；　cutting　thick　slices　off　a　roast　with　his　father's　greatsword　Heartsbane。　There　were　sweet　cakes　to　eat　and　honeyed　wine　to　drink；　there　was　singing　and　dancing；　and　everyone　was　warm。　When　the　feast　was　done　he　went　up　to　sleep；　not　to　the　lord's　bedchamber　where　his　mother　and　father　lived　but　to　the　room　he　had　once　shared　with　his　sisters。　Only　instead　of　his　sisters　it　was　Gilly　waiting　in　the　huge　soft　bed；　wearing　nothing　but　a　big　shaggy　fur；　milk　leaking　from　her　breasts。
　He　woke　suddenly；　in　cold　and　dread。
　The　fire　had　burned　down　to　smouldering　red　embers。　The　air　itself　seemed　frozen；　it　was　so　cold。　In　the　corner　the　garron　was　whinnying　and　kicking　the　logs　with　her　hind　legs。　Gilly　sat　beside　the　fire；　hugging　her　babe。　Sam　sat　up　groggy；　his　breath　puffing　pale　from　his　open　mouth。　The　longball　was　dark　with　shadows；　black　and　blacker。　The　hair　on　his　arms　was　standing　up。
　It's　nothing；　he　told　himself。　I'm　cold；　that's　all。
　Then；　by　the　door；　one　of　the　shadows　moved。　A　big　one。
　This　is　still　a　dream；　Sam　prayed。　Oh；　make　it　that　I'm　still　asleep；　make　it　a　nightmare。　He's　dead；　he's　dead；　I　saw　him　die。　〃He's　e　for　the　babe；〃　Gilly　wept。　〃He　smells　him。　A　babe　fresh…born　stinks　o'　life。　He's　e　for　the　life。〃
　The　huge　dark　shape　stooped　under　the　lintel；　into　the　hall；　and　shambled　toward　them。　in　the　dim　light　of　the　fire；　the　shadow　became　Small　Paul。
　〃Go　away；〃　Sam　croaked。　〃We　don't　want　you　here。〃
　Paul's　hands　were　coal；　his　face　was　milk；　his　eyes　shone　a　bitter　blue。　Hoarfrost　whitened　his　beard；　and　on　one　shoulder　hunched　a　raven；　pecking　at　his　cheek；　eating　the　dead　white　flesh。　Sam's　bladder　let　go；　and　he　felt　the　warmth　running　down　his　legs。　〃Gilly；　calm　the　horse　and　lead　her　out。　You　do　that。〃
　〃You…〃　she　started。
　〃I　have　the　knife。　The　dragonglass　dagger。〃　He　fumbled　it　out　as　he　got　to　his　feet。　He'd　given　the　first　knife　to　Grenn；　but　thankfully　he'd　remembered　to　take　Lord　Mormont's　dagger　before　fleeing　Craster's　Keep。　He　clutched　it　tight；　moving　away　from　the　fire；　away　from　Gilly　and　the　babe。　〃Paul？〃　He　meant　to　sound　brave；　but　it　came　out　in　a　squeak。　〃Small　Paul。　Do　you　know　me？　I'm　Sam；　fat　Sam；　Sam　the　Scared；　you　saved　me　in　the　woods。　You　carried　me　when　I　couldn't　walk　another　step。　No　one　else　could　have　done　that；　but　you　did。〃　Sam　backed　away；　knife　in　hand；　sniveling。　I　am　such　a　coward。　〃Don't　hurt　us；　Paul。　Please。　Why　would　you　want　to　hurt　us？〃
　Gilly　scrabbled　backward　across　the　hard　dirt　floor。　The　wight　turned　his　head　to　look　at　her；　but　Sam　shouted　〃NO！〃　and　he　turned　back。　The　raven　on　his　shoulder　ripped　a　strip　of　flesh　from　his　pale　ruined　cheek。　Sam　held　the　dagger　before　him；　breathing　like　a　blacksmith's　bellows。　Across　the　longhall；　Gilly　reached　the　garron。　Gods　give　me　courage；　Sam　prayed。　For　once；　give　me　a　little　courage。　fust　long　enough　for　her　to　get　away。
　Small　Paul　moved　toward　him。　Sam　backed　off　until　he　came　up　against　a　rough　log　wall。　He　clutched　the　dagger　with　both　hands　to　hold　it　steady。　The　wight　did　not　seem　to　fear　the　dragonglass。　Perhaps　he　did　not　know　what　it　was。　He　moved　slowly；　but　Small　Paul　had　never　been　quick　even　when　he'd　been　alive。　Behind　him；　Gilly　murmured　to　calm　the　garron　and　tried　to　urge　it　toward　the　door。　But　the　horse　must　have　caught　a　whiff　of　the　wight's　queer　cold　scent。　Suddenly　she　balked；　rearing；　her　hooves　lashing　at　the　frosty　air。　Paul　swung　toward　the　sound；　and　seemed　to　lose　all　interest　in　Sam。
　There　was　no　time　to　think　or　pray　or　be　afraid。　Samwell　Tarly　threw　himself　forward　and　plunged　the　dagger　down　into　Small　Paul's　back。　Half…turned；　the　wight　never　saw　him　ing。　The　raven　gave　a　shriek　and　took　to　the　air。　〃You're　dead！〃　Sam　screamed　as　he　stabbed。　〃You're　dead；　you're　dead。〃　He　stabbed　and　screamed；　again　and　again；　tearing　huge　rents　in　Paul's　heavy　black　cloak。　Shards　of　dragonglass　flew　everywhere　as　the　blade　shattered　on　the　iron　mail　beneath　the　wool。
　Sam's　wail　made　a　white　mist　in　the　black　air。　He　dropped　the　useless　hilt　and　took　a　hasty　step　backwards　as　Small　Paul　twisted　around。　Before　he　could　get　out　his　other　knife；　the　steel　knife　that　every　brother　carried；　the　wight's　black　hands　locked　beneath　his　chins。　Paul's　fingers　were　so　cold　they　seemed　to　burn。　They　burrowed　deep　into　the　soft　flesh　of　Sam's　throat。　Run；　Gilly；　run；　he　wanted　to　scream；　but　when　he　opened　his　mouth　only　a　choking　sound　emerged。
　His　fumbling　fingers　finally　found　the　dagger；　but　when　he　slammed　it　up　into　the　wight's　belly　the　point　skidded　off　the　iron　links；　and　the　blade　went　spinning　from　Sam's　hand。　Small　Paul's　fingers　tightened　inexorably；　and　began　to　twist。　He's　going　to　rip　my　head　off；　Sam　thought　in　despair。　His　throat　felt　frozen；　his　lungs　on　fire。　He　punched　and　pulled　at　the　wight's　wrists；　to　no　avail。　He　kicked　Paul　between　the　legs；　uselessly。　The　world　shrank　to　two　blue　stars；　a　terrible　crushing　pain；　and　a　cold　so　fierce　that　his　tears　froze　over　his　eyes。　Sam　squirmed　and　pulled；　desperate　。　。　。　and　then　he　lurched　forward。
　Small　Paul　was　big　and　powerful；　but　Sam　still　outweighed　him；　and　the　wights　were　clumsy；　he　had　seen　that　on　the　Fist。　The　sudden　shift　sent　Paul　staggering　back　a　step；　and　the　living　man　and　the　dead　one　went　crashing　down　together。　The　impact　knocked　one　hand　from　Sam's　throat；　and　he　was　able　to　suck　in　a　quick　breath　of　air　before　the　icy　black　fingers　returned。　The　taste　of　blood　filled　his　mouth。　He　twisted　his　neck　around；　looking　for　his　knife；　and　saw　a　dull　orange　glow。　The　fire！　Only　ember　and　ashes　remained；　but　still　。　。　。　he　could　not　breathe；　or　think　。　。　。　Sam　wrenched　himself　sideways；　pulling　Paul　with　him　。　。　。　his　arms　flailed　against　the　dirt　floor；　groping；　reachi