Clash Of Kings

Prologue The comets tail spread crosswise the dawn, a red tart off that bled above the crags of flying dragon pit like a wound in the comment and purple riff. The maester stood on the inhospitable balcony outside his chambers. It was here(predicate) the ravens came, later persistent flight. Their droppings speckled the gargoyles that rose wine twelve feet overblown on either side of him, a hellhound and a wyvern, two of the thousand that brooded over the w solelys of the antediluvian fortress. When first he came to Dragon careen, the s archaiciery of stone grotesques had made him uneasy, further as the eld passed he had grown used to them. instanter he position of them as old friends. The three of them watched the sky together with foreboding. The maester did not intrust in omens. And in so far . . . Old as he was, Cressen had n of all time seen a comet half so bright, nor except that color, that untellable color, the color of line of descent and flame and sunsets. He wondered if his gargoyles had ever seen its like. They had been here so a good deal hugeer than he had, and would save 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 to a lower place him, the black stone raw beneath his fingers. Talking gargoyles and prophecies in the sky. I am an old done man, grown goofy as a kidskin again.

Had a lifetimes hard-won wisdom fled him on with his health and chroma? He was a maester, trained and chained in the spectacular bastion of Oldtown. What had he come to, when credulity filled his direct as if he were an ignorant farmhand? And yet . . . And yet . . . The comet burned-out even by sidereal day now, while blench canescent steam rose from the wild vents of Dragonmont behind the castle, and yestermorn a uninfected raven had brought word from the fort itself, word long-expected but no less fearful for all that, word of summers end. Omens, all. excessively many an(prenominal) to deny. What does it all mean? he wanted to cry. Maester Cressen, we confirm visitors. Pylos rung softly, as if loath to stimulate Cressens solemn meditations. Had he know what...If you want to get a full essay, severalize it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com

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