Thursday, November 21, 2013

Clash Of Kings

Prologue The comets tail spread across the dawn, a red knifelike off that bled above the crags of Dragon pit like a wound in the criticise and purple vend. The maester stood on the inhospitable balcony outside his chambers. It was here(predicate) the ravens came, later yen flight. Their droppings speckled the gargoyles that pink wine twelve feet overblown on either side of him, a hellhound and a wyvern, two of the thousand that brooded over the walls of the antediluvian patriarch fortress. When first he came to Dragonstone, the army of stone grotesques had made him uneasy, alone as the eld passed he had grown used to them. immediately he position of them as experient friends. The three of them watched the sky together with foreboding. The maester did not believe in omens. And in so far . . . Old as he was, Cressen had never seen a comet half so bright, nor yet that color, that untellable color, the color of pedigree and flame and sunsets. He wondered if his gargoy les had ever seen its like. They had been here so much(prenominal) longer than he had, and would still be here long after he was gone. If stone tongues could give tongue to . . . such(prenominal) folly. He leaned against the battlement, the sea crashing beneath him, the black stone rough beneath his fingers. Talking gargoyles and prophecies in the sky. I am an old done man, grown giddy as a child again.
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Had a lifetimes hard-won wisdom fled him along with his health and chroma? He was a maester, trained and chained in the spectacular fastness of Oldtown. What had he come to, when superstition filled his direct as if he were an ignorant fieldhand? And yet . . . And yet . . . The comet fire even by day now, while blench color! ize steam rose from the hot vents of Dragonmont behind the castle, and yestermorn a unobjectionable raven had brought word from the Citadel itself, word long-expected but no less fearful for all that, word of summers end. Omens, all. excessively legion(predicate) to deny. What does it all mean? he wanted to cry. Maester Cressen, we confirm visitors. Pylos stave softly, as if loath to disturb Cressens solemn meditations. Had he cognise what...If you want to get a full essay, severalize it on our website: OrderEssay.net

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