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以下世界名酒英文介绍

urt, to ty of twenty miles square. They were in all not above twenty-five thousand foot, and six thousand horse; but it was impossible for me to compute their number,

ert, I want herpunished.”

“Seven hells,” Robert swore. “Cersei, look at her. She’s a child. What would you have me do,whip her through the streets? Damn it, children fight. It’s over. No lasting harm was done.”

The queen was furious. “Joff will carry those scars for the rest of his life.”

Robert Baratheon looked at his eldest son. “So he will. Perhaps they will teach him a lesson. Ned,see that your daughter is disciplined. I will do the same with my son.”

“Gladly, Your Grace,” Ned said with vast relief.

Robert started to walk away, but the queen was not done. “And what of the direwolf?” she calledafter him. “What of the beast that savaged your son?”

The king stopped, turned back, frowned. “I’d forgotten about the damned wolf.”

Ned could see Arya tense in Jory’s arms. Jory spoke up quickly. “We found no trace of thedirewolf, Your Grace.”

Robert did not look unhappy. “No? So be it.”

The queen raised her voice. “A hundred golden dragons to the man who brings me its skin!”

“A costly pelt,” Robert grumbled. “I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy yourfurs with Lannister gold.”

The queen regarded him coolly. “I had not thought you so niggardly. The king I’d thought to wedwould have laid a wolfskin across my bed before the sun went down.”

Robert’s face darkened with anger. “That would be a fine trick, without a wolf.”

“We have a wolf,” Cersei Lannister said. Her voice was very quiet, but her green eyes shone withtriumph.

It took them all a moment to comprehend her words, but when they did, the king shrugged irritably.

“As you will. Have Ser Ilyn see to it.”

“Robert, you cannot mean this,” Ned protested.

The king was in no mood for more argument. “Enough, Ned, I will hear no more. A direwolf is asavage beast. Sooner or later it would have turned on your girl the same way the other did on my son.

Get her a dog, she’ll be happier for it.”

That was when Sansa finally seemed to comprehend. Her eyes were frightened as they went to herfather. “He doesn’t mean Lady, does he?” She saw the truth on his face. “No,” she said. “No, notLady, Lady didn’t bite anybody, she’s good …”

“Lady wasn’t there,” Arya shouted angrily. “You leave her alone!”

“Stop them,” Sansa pleaded, “don’t let them do it, please, please, it wasn’t Lady, it was Nymeria,Arya did it, you can’t, it wasn’t Lady, don’t let them hurt Lady, I’ll make her be good, I promise, Ipromise …” She started to cry.

All Ned could do was take her in his arms and hold her while she wept. He looked across the roomat Robert. His old friend, closer than any brother. “Please, Robert. For the love you bear me. For thelove you bore my sister. Please.”

The king looked at them for a long moment, then turned his eyes on his wife. “Damn you, Cersei,”

he said with loathing.

Ned stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansa’s grasp. All the weariness of the past four dayshad returned to him. “Do it yourself then, Robert,” he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. “At leasthave the courage to do it yourself.”

Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead.

Silence filled the hall.

“Where is the direwolf?” Cersei Lannister asked when her husband was gone. Beside her, PrinceJoffrey was smiling.

“The beast is chained up outside the gatehouse, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan Selmy answeredreluctantly.

“Send for Ilyn Payne.”

“No,” Ned said. “Jory, take the girls back to their rooms and bring me Ice.” The words tasted ofbile in his throat,

considortal to be shut up in the box.

I found no effect from all I

“All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.”

He was walking back to the tower to give himself up to sleep at last when Sandor Clegane and hisriders came pounding through the castle gate, back from their hunt.

There was something slung over the back of his destrier, a heavy shape wrapped in a bloody cloak.

“No sign of your daughter, Hand,” the Hound rasped down, “but the day was not wholly wasted. Wegot her little pet.” He reached back and shoved the burden off, and it fell with a thump in front ofNed.

Bending, Ned pulled back the cloak, dreading the words he would have to find for Arya, but it wasnot Nymeria after all. It was the butcher’s boy, Mycah, his body covered in dried blood. He had beencut almost in half from shoulder to waist by some terrible blow struck from above.

“You rode him down,” Ned said.

The Hound’s eyes seemed to glitter through the steel of that hideous dog’s-head helm. “He ran.”

He looked at Ned’s face and laughed. “But not very fast.”

BRAN

It seemed as though he had been falling for years.

Fly, a voice whispered in the darkness, but Bran did not know how to fly, so all he could do wasfall.

Maester Luwin made a little boy of clay, baked him till he was hard and brittle, dressed him inBran’s clothes, and flung him off a roof. Bran remembered the way he shattered. “But I never fall,” hesaid, falling.

The ground was so far below him he could barely make it out through the grey mists that whirledaround him, but he could feel how fast he was falling, and he knew what was waiting for him downthere. Even in dreams, you could not fall forever. He would wake up in the instant before he hit theground, he knew. You always woke up in the instant before you hit the ground.

And if you don’t? the voice asked.

The ground was closer now, still far far away, a thousand miles away, but closer than it had been. Itwas cold here in the darkness. There was no sun, no stars, only the ground below coming up to smashhim, and the grey mists, and the whispering voice. He wanted to cry.

Not cry. Fly.

“I can’t fly,” Bran said. “I can’t, I can’t …”

How do you know? Have you ever tried?

The voice was high and thin. Bran looked around to see where it was coming from. A crow wasspiraling down with him, just out of reach, following him as he fell. “Help me,” he said.

I’m trying, the crow replied. Say, got any corn?

Bran reached into his pocket as the darkness spun dizzily around him. When he pulled his hand out,golden kernels slid from between his fingers into the air. They fell with him.

The crow landed on his hand and began to eat.

“Are you really a crow?” Bran asked.

Are you really falling? the crow asked back.

“It’s just a dream,” Bran said.

Is it? asked the crow.

“I’ll wake up when I hit the ground,” Bran told the bird.

You’ll die when you hit the ground, the crow said. It went back to eating corn.

Bran looked down. He could see mountains now, their peaks white with snow, and the silver threadof rivers in dark woods. He closed his eyes and began to cry.

That won’t do any good, the crow said. I told you, the answer is flying, not crying. How hard can itbe. I’m doing it. The crow took to the air and flapped around Bran’s hand.

“You have wings,” Bran pointed out.

Maybe you do too.

Bran felt along his shoulders, groping for feathers.

There are different kinds of wings, the crow said.

Bran was staring at his arms, his legs. He was so skinny, just skin stretched taut over bones. Had healways been so thin? He tried to remember. A face swam up at him out of the grey mist, shining withlight, golden. “The things I do for love,” it said.

Bran screamed.

The crow took to the air, cawing. Not that, it shrieked at him. Forget that, you do not need it now,put it aside, put it away. It landed on Bran’s sho

could do, but plainly perceived my closet to be moved al