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鈥淎nd Ser Terrence Toyne?鈥滭/p>For two hours I sat not daring to even lean a shoulder or the side of my head against a wall. My head endlessly drooping and jerking upright again, I kept awake and heard the clock
in the next room the tiny flickering sound seemed never to stop. An unbelievably long time later the clock again began to strike and as it started I stood up under the cover of its bonging. My legs were terribly stiff, and I had to reach quickly across Julia to the wall beside her and steady myself. Then, very slowly and completely silently, I stretched every muscle鈥攁rms, legs, back, neck鈥攃ou it was four o'clock. I stepped to the doorway, and found a crack to peek through. Jake was asleep, head on his chest, snoring very faintly. Carmody still sat on the edge of the desk, but now his upper body lay along the length of the file drawer on the desk top before him: the top drawer, I saw, of the second cabinet. H I had to watch closely to see the tiny motion of the back of his vest. I assume most people are tempted鈥攁t least the impulse stirs鈥攖o occasionally commit the outlandishly impossible: to whistle in church, to say something wildly inappropriate to a situation. It popped up in my mind to yell "Boo!" as loudly as I could, and then watch the wild scramble in the next room. I smiled, and sat down beside Julia, and knew she was awake, I'm not sure how. I lay down beside her to bring my mouth to her ear. I had to put an arm around her in order to get closer I didn't mind. "You awake?" Her hair brushed across my nose as she nodded. I whispered the situation then, and told her the time. She asked whether I'd slept, then made me change places, and she sat doing guard duty while I fell almost instantly to sleep. The first daylight on my face and the slow bong of the City Hall clock awakened me. I Julia's hand was hovering an inch from my mouth, ready to close over it if I started to speak. I lifted my head and kissed her palm, and she yanked her hand away, startled, then smiled. She made a pointing gesture toward the next room, then placed her finger across her lips, and I nodded. I'd been cou it was seven, and when it stopped I heard once again what I seemed now to have been hearing forever鈥攖he steady flick-flick of paper in the room beside us. We moved silently to the boarded-over doorway and sat down as before. Except that the room was now gray and shabby with daylight鈥攁 powdering of new snow had appeared on the outside windowsills鈥攏othing had changed. Carmody sat on the desk top flicking steadily through the inches of paper in, I saw, the bottom drawer of the third cabinet. Jake had turned i there was a huge swollen lump on his head nearly the size of a fist, and his face was haggard, his eyes red, the skin below them drooping into wrinkles, and his mouth hung open a little. He was in pain, I thought鈥攆rom the blow on his head, perhaps, or the inability to alter his position. But Carmody's face looked almost as tired, his eyes dulled and staring, and I wondered if he were still able to fully comprehend the blur of paper passing endlessly before them. There were five sheets now, lying on top of the second filing cabinet. Somethin that was obvious. In the new daylight, very white from the fresh snow, I glanced at Julia beside me, and she looked rested, and she smiled at me. But just the same I knew that neither she nor I could stay here much longer. And neither could Carmody. Hemight be willing to leave Jake Pickering just as he was, but he himself would have to leave soon if only to get some food, and return. If he left, he'd have to gag Jake, I supposed. Jake didn't dare shout now and take another blow on the head, but he'd surely shout if Carmody left, until someone heard and investigated鈥攚hich wouldn't take long. The city was fully awake, Julia and I could hear the steady roar of it outside our windows. The building was awakening, twice I'd heard the sound, coming up the shaft, of footsteps on the building staircase. What should we do, I wondered, if Carmody left? We couldn't push our loosened boards aside and walk out through Jake's office without his seeing us. I leaned back out of the doorway to look down. Beside and behind me the floorboards were gone and I could see far below into the shaft, lighted at each floor by the windows facing east on Nassau Street. The joists of the floors below us had been removed, I there was no way at all for us to get out of here by way of the elevator shaft. And I was tired. I ached from hours of sitting or lying on wooden floorboards. I was thirsty and hungry, and Julia must be the same. But if there was anything to do but continue to sit here, staring into the next room, I couldn't think of it. I simply repeated to myself that something had to change soon, s and when Julia glanced at me I smiled reassuringly. After half an hour or so Carmody stopped. He got to his feet, revolving his shoulders, rotating his head as he bent his neck, working the stiffness loose. He stood looking speculatively at Jake, and I thought I he was wondering if he dared leave him for a time, and how best to do it. But then he thought of something I hadn't; he turned, and began opening the drawers of Jake's desk one after another. I'd once searched these drawers, too, and I remembered what he was going to find. He reached the bottom, left-hand drawer, opened it, lifted out the paper sack, looked into it, then looked over at Jake, and smiled. He sat down on the desk top and ate the four or five big white crackers, holding his cupped hand under his mouth to catch the crumbs, which he tossed into his mouth last. There were soft brown spots on the apple, but he ate it all, including the core. He wasn't deliberately taunting Jake, but Jake sat watching him, and when Carmody stood up again, dusting the last crumbs from his hands, he was grinning. He opened a file drawer, brought out the half-full bottle of whiskey, pulled the cork, and tossed down a good belt. The cork still in hand, he looked consideringly at Jake for a moment. "Want an eye-opener?" he said, and Jake hesitated, then shrugged a shoulder, unwilling to say yes, unable to refuse, and Carmody walked over and, a little contemptuously, held the bottle to Jake's lips, watched him swallow twice, then took it away. Then鈥擨 clutched my head in both hands, and rocked back and forth helplessly鈥擟armody went back to work. For over two more hours we sat in a semi- the snowstorm was heavier now, snow piling up on the window ledge, lying flat against the glass. We'd been here sitting or lying on a hard floor too long, and I knew we couldn't take it much longer. Most of the time Julia sat simply staring at the floor and so did I; after a while I put my arm around her shoulders and made her rest against me, her head on my shoulder. It occurred to me that Jake Pickering looked to be
his color was better now, probably from the whiskey. But he'd also had more
and his arms, while bound, were protected by a considerable thickness of cloth, andthe leather bindin they wouldn't be numbed. Still, he hadn't been able to stand or move about I thought he must be in pretty severe discomfort, and I had to admire the calmness of his voice when presently he spoke. We'd heard the clock strike nine half an hour or so before, and now Jake鈥攙oice a little dogged, an edge of doubt sounding鈥攕aid, "A financier is bound to be skilled at figures: Here is a problem to test you. If a man can search through two and a half file cabinets in nine and a half hours, how long will it take him to hunt through thirteen?" Without turning to look at Pickering Carmody had stopped to listen, hands lying motionless on the compressed paper in the drawer before him. It seemed I expected Carmody to smile or shrug, reply in kind, and resume work. But I'd found myself automatically responding to Pickering's "problem" by trying to work out the arithmetic of it in my head, and I think maybe Carmody did the same. He sat for a few moments and I believe that something about the inescapable answer to the question鈥攖he forced realization of the immensity of what still lay ahead, the long sickening blur of concentration he'd already gone through being only the beginning鈥攇ot through to him. Because he suddenly broke. He whirled to stare at Jake, who grinned at him, and Carmody spun back to the drawer and plunged his clawed hands into it to snatch up an immense thickness of paper. Arms rising high, he whirled back to Jake and slammed the whole sliding mass of paper down into Jake's face. The force of it rocked Jake back in his chair, the metal springs creaking, the paper cascading down his chest and off his shoulders, separating into sheaves and sheets, fluttering to the floor, sliding down off his lap. But when Jake rocked forward again he was still laughing, and Carmody gathered up the rest of the file, an immense wad, stood, and smashed it down onto Jake's swollen head. But Jake never stopped laughing, and then Carmody went wild. He yanked a top drawer straight out of a file cabinet, it fell, cracked open, and spilled half its contents, and Carmody booted the smashed drawer to spill out the rest. He yanked out half a dozen more drawers as fast as he could grab their handles, and every one crashed, shaking the entire floor, and burst. Then Carmody waded through the sea of paper kicking, and the paper flew in a waist-high storm. He stood panting for a moment or two, looking wildly around the office鈥攆or a way to get rid of the spilled paper, I think, because he suddenly began shoving it with the side of his foot straight toward our doorway. Then he booted a heap of it through under the bottom board past Julia and me, and we heard the flutter of loose sheets, then the distant plop of most of the mass of it landing at the bottom. He shoved out half the paper on the floor like that, under the boarding and down the shaft, before he had to stop for breath, facing Jake and glaring at him, his shoulders heaving, and Jake never stopped grinning. The wild spontaneous action did Carmody good, I think, because as he got his breath back he began to grin, too. And then for a few moments, strangely, there was almost a companionship between the two men. Carmody reached into the inside pocket of his coat lying on the desk beside a file drawer, and brought out a cigar, raising it toward his mouth. But instead he looked at Jake for a moment, then extended the cigar to him, and Jake leaned forward, nipped off the end between hisfront teeth, and spat it to the floor. Still grinning, Carmody put the other end of the cigar into Jake's mouth, saying mildly, "What the hell are you laughing at?" He turned to get a second cigar鈥攖hey were in a protective leather case鈥攁nd as Jake replied, Carmody bit off the end of his cigar, listening, nodding. "Because you can kick my files all over the building," Jake said. "You can cause me a hell of a lot of work getting them together again. But you can't eat them, Carmody. Somewhere in this mess, up here or down the shaft or both, are a little handful of papers that are still going to cost you鈥攐ne million dollars." The cigar in a corner of his mouth, Jake grinned lopsidedly at Carmody who nodded, brought out a big wooden kitchen match, and expertly snapped it to light with his thumb nail. He held the flame for Jake, who puffed the cigar it made my stomach queasy to watch, before breakfast. Then Carmody lighted his own cigar, leisurely, enjoying the process, the way a cigar smoker does. He breathed out a round puff of blue smoke, then took the cigar from his mouth, and holding it between the tips of his four fingers and thumb, inspected the glowing end satisfiedly. For a moment he watched the glowing end film over with ash. Then he bent his wrist to flick out the match, but he didn't. Wrist still bent, his eyes moved to the flame which was halfway down the wooden length of the match now, the blackened curling head protruding beyond it. He stood staring at the steady orange flame, his thumb and forefinger crawling to the end of the match to avoid being burned. Then he opened them, thumb and forefinger, and simply allowed the match to fall to the floor, the flame fluttering. It might have gone out before it reached the floor. Or it might have dropped onto bare wood and burned itself out. But the match end fell, the charred end breaking off, onto the edge of a sheet of flimsy. The room was utterly silent, motionless, except for the Carmody standing, Jake leaning forward in his chair as far as he could go, cigar gripped in his teeth, both staring at that match. It seemed to go out, a thread of blue smoke suddenly rising, but no. A tiny pale flick of flame showed, held motionless, then suddenly there was a yellow-edged ring on the face of the paper, turning immediately brown. It grew, a ragged hole in the paper, a circle of expanding char ringed by flame. Then it was audible, a tiny crackling, the flame reddening and jumping, the paper brightly afire. The enlarging ring of fire crawled toward the edge of the sheet, touched an overlapping sheet, and now it was afire, too. I didn't remember standing up but of course we were on our feet, Julia and I, her hand clenched on my wrist, her eyes burning a question. I hesitated, standing there at the boarding, my eyes pressed to a crack. If either Jake or Carmody, now, had glanced at the bottom of the doorway, he'd have seen our stockinged feet and ankles, but of course neither did. The flame grew slowly, sliding across the sheets, and I knew that it could still be stamped out, that I could shove a shoulder to the loosened boards and have the fire out in seconds. I put on my shoes to be ready, and Julia put on hers. Then I picked up our coats and hats, and we put them on, our eyes at the cracks. I felt alert, ready to move the moment the fire got out of hand, and I smiled at J I was apprehensive but not frightened, and neither was she. But Jake was tied, helpless. I think he tried to hold in the words, his teeth clenched down on the cigar in his mouth, but he couldn't. "Jesus," he said, "no!" Then he looked at Carmody, and now hi hating it, but pleading.Viserion sensed her disquiet. The white dragon lay coiled around a pear tree, his head resting on his tail. When Dany passed his eyes came open, two pools of molten gold. His horns were gold as well, and the scales that ran down his back from head to tail. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e lazy,鈥 she told him, scratching under his jaw. His scales were hot to the touch, like armor left too long in the sun. Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift. 鈥淵ou should be hunting with your brothers. Have you and Drogon been fighting again?鈥 Her dragons were growing wild of late. Rhaegal had snapped at Irri, and Viserion had set Reznak鈥檚 tokar ablaze the last time the seneschal had called. I have left them too much to themselves, but where am I to find the time for them?鈥淕o back to your dolls, niece. Leave the winning of wars to warriors.鈥 Victarion showed her his fists. 鈥淚 have two hands. No man needs three.鈥滭/p>鈥淕ive me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!鈥滭/p>Grey Worm saluted her. His Unsullied closed the shroud once more, lifted the dead man onto their shoulders, and bore him from the hall. Ser Barristan Selmy remained behind. His hair was white, and there were crow鈥檚-feet at the corners of his pale blue eyes. Yet his back was still unbent, and the years had not yet robbed him of his skill at arms. 鈥淵our Grace,鈥 he said, 鈥淚 fear your eunuchs are ill suited for the tasks you set them.鈥滭/p>鈥淭he wires are down,鈥 said the station-master, 鈥渁nd no train is allowed to leave Rio since the Emperor reached there at midnight.鈥滭/p>Haggon鈥檚 rough voice echoed in his head. 鈥淵ou will die a dozen deaths, boy, and every one will hurt 鈥 but when your true death comes, you will live again. The second life is simpler and sweeter, they say.鈥滭/p>When they reached the crest the wolves paused. Thistle, he remembered, and a part of him grieved for what he had lost and another part for what he鈥檇 done. Below, the world had turned to ice. Fingers of frost crept slowly up the weirwood, reaching out for each other. The empty village was no longer empty. Blue-eyed shadows walked amongst the mounds of snow. Some wore brown and some wore black and some were naked, their flesh gone white as snow. A wind was sighing through the hills, heavy with their scents: dead flesh, dry blood, skins that stank of mold and rot and urine. Sly gave a growl and bared her teeth, her ruff bristling. Not men. Not prey. Not these.He thought that would excite her. He could not have been more wrong. Gilly peered at him with flat, dull eyes, looking through some strands of unwashed hair. 鈥淚f you want, m鈥檒ord.鈥滭/p>鈥淭here have always been men who found it easier to speak vows than to keep them,鈥 he admitted. Ser Boros Blount was no stranger to the Street of Silk, and Ser Preston Greenfield used to call at a certain draper鈥檚 house whenever the draper was away, but Arys would not shame his Sworn Brothers by speaking of their failings. 鈥淪er Terrence Toyne was found abed with his king鈥檚 mistress,鈥 he said instead. 鈥溾橳was love, he swore, but it cost his life and hers, and brought about the downfall of his House and the death of the noblest knight who ever lived.鈥滭/p>Arya got to her feet, moving warily. The heads were all around her. She touched one, curious,wondering if it was real. Her fingertips brushed a massive jaw. It felt real enough. The bone wassmooth beneath her hand, cold and hard to the touch. She ran her fingers down a tooth, black andsharp, a dagger made of darkness. It made her shiver.His sister laughed. 鈥淣ot you. Have no fear on that count. Perhaps Taena鈥檚 husband. His grandfather was Hand under Aerys.鈥滭/p>鈥淚f anything of importance transpires,鈥 he added, 鈥渞eport to me at once at my house.鈥滭/p>The Scots nobles at this time saw that, with Elizabeth and Catharine united against their Queen, things were likely
and even Protestants such as Maitland and Murray were desirous of counteracting the opposing combination by enlisting the help of Spain. Maitland, therefore, after much circumlocution and mystery, proposed to Quadra that Mary should be offered to Don Carlos. The Bishop was delighted with the idea, and sent the offer to Philip, who also approved of it. If such a marriage had been possible, and had been carried out swiftly and suddenly, it might have been the turning-point to make England Catholic鈥攂ut it was not to be. Events marched too rapidly for Philip鈥檚 leaden method, and the opportunity was lost whilst information, pledges, and securities were being sought from the Scotch and English nobles, upon whom Philip depended for deposing Elizabeth and placing Mary and her consort on the throne of Great Britain. In vain through a course of years Philip was told with tiresome reiteration that things could not be done in that way. The Catholics would not rise without a certainty of aid, and the71 pledges could not be all on one side. So, tired of waiting, at last the Scots nobles were driven to consent to Mary鈥檚 marriage with Darnley, and she, for a time at least, ceased to be the centre figure in the marriage man?uvres.That was the longest journey he had ever taken, though it could not have lasted more than half an hour. He was lifted and lowered, rolled and stacked, upended and righted and rolled again. Through the wooden staves he heard men shouting, and once a horse whickered nearby. His stunted legs began to cramp, and soon hurt so badly that he forgot the hammering in his head.Her own twin interrupted her musings. 鈥淲ould Your Grace honor her white knight with a dance?鈥滭/p>鈥淗e said he鈥檇 show us. That knight. Ser Kyle.鈥滭/p>Sansa was so captivated that she quite forgot all her courtesies and ignored Septa Mordane, seatedto her left.Grand Maester Pycelle nodded ponderously. 鈥淚 propose that we inform Castle Black that no more men will be sent to them until such time as Snow is gone.鈥滭/p>They made their way through the Hall of Lamps beneath colored globes of leaded glass, Tommen鈥檚 hand in hers. Trant and Kettleblack flanked them, water dripping from their wet cloaks to puddle on the floor. The High Septon walked slowly, leaning on a weirwood staff topped by a crystal orb. Seven of the Most Devout attended him, shimmering in cloth-of-silver. Tommen wore cloth-of-gold beneath his sable mantle, the queen an old gown of black velvet lined with ermine. There鈥檇 been no time to have a new one made, and she could not wear the same dress she had worn for Joffrey, nor the one she鈥檇 buried Robert in.鈥淗ere.鈥 She stepped out from the shadow behind the door.At the stairwell we looked over the rail, and the Park Row stairs were ablaze from first floor to second, the flames climbing the steps as we stared. Obviously the fire had flashed through the the whole lower part of the building must be ablaze. The man and the two girls running behind us had come up, and just as we all turned to look back the way we'd come, the flames appeared at the head of the stairs far behind us. They shot higher, touched the underside of the next flight up, and then those stairs, too, were afire, and now I realized that the floor under our feet was hot. I grabbed at the knob of a door beside us leading into one of the offices on the Park R it was locked, and I turned鈥擩ulia's hand still in mine鈥攁nd we ran down this hall along the row of doors to one I saw standing ajar at the very end. THE NEW-YORK OBSERVER, it said on the door when we raced up to it, and we ran into a large room of rolltop desks, wooden tables, file cabinets. A window stood open, its green shade flapping, and with Julia I ran directly to it. If there was to be any exit from this building for us it had to be through this window, and I was inwardly chilled with fright. Because I remembered the building's exterior. There were no ledges running around it, only windowsills, and we were three stories up, three very tall- we couldn't jump. There were footprints in the new snow on the windowsill: Had someone climbed out and jumped? I no one lay sprawled on the walk below. But I saw that a crowd was already gathering along the east wall of the Post Office Building catercorner across the street, and in City Hall Park directly across. The cro I could see people running to join it along all the park paths. Directly below us in the street the first fire engine had stopped, two firemen running with a hose toward a hydrant, another uncoupling the horses. Bells were clanging, and down Park Row came another engine, white steam jetting from the tall brass cylinder behind the driver, its pair of white horses running all out, manes flying, hoofs striking sparks. And far across the park on Broadway a hook-and-ladder truck pulled by four gray horses made the obtuse-angled turn into Mail Street toward us. All this I saw in a split- then I looked back to the window ledge, and saw the sign I'd once read from the street, THE NEW-YORK OBSERVER sign directly under the ledge. It was fastened to the wall at its lower edge, but the upper edge hung out a foot or so, held by rusty wires. I had no idea whether it w I knew it wasn't meant to. It might take Julia' she had to go first before my weight weakened the sign or tore it loose. I said, "Out, Julia! Onto the sign! Crawl to the Times Building!" But she shook her head, closing her eyes, and her face went white. Eyes still closed, she stood shaking her head, and I understood that it was impossible鈥攖here are people who simply can't take the fear of falling鈥攆or her to make herself crawl out onto that sign alone. I'd slammed the office door behind us to keep out the fire when it came. I turned to look at the door and black smoke was curling underneath it. There no other decision left to make now, and I stepped up onto the windowsill, crouching.Ipu(was) t my left foot down and out onto the top edge of the slanting sign, and slowly transferred weight to it. It held, and holding to the sill with both hands, I lowered my right foot into the trough between sign and building. Then I slowly stood, letting go the sill, easing my fullweight onto the sign, the wind flicking hard-edged snow-flakes into my face and eyes, and ridiculously, in spite of an agony of fear that the sign would tear loose and drop me, I was glad of my fur cap and overcoat. The sign groaned but it held, and I turned to the open window beside me. In her dark coat and bonnet, Julia stood petrified, staring at me, and before she could back away I shot out my right hand, grabbed her wrist, and pulled so hard and quickly that she had to get a knee up onto the sill or be dragged right across it. I kept up the pressure, pulling her forward, and now to keep from actually falling out she had to bring up the other knee and I kept tugging鈥攕harp little yanks now鈥攁nd with no volition of her own, but to keep from pitching out headfirst, she had to swing her legs over the sill, and then she was out, just ahead of me, half standing, half crouched on the THE NEW-YORK OBSERVER sign, a hand up before her eyes fending off the whirling snow. I saw a small kink in a wire just ahead of Julia straighten under the strain, then I was shouting at her: "Don't look down! Don't ever look down! Just move!" I pushed her, and then, half crouched鈥 each with a left foot on the top edge of the sign, the other in the trough, our right hands moving along the face of the building鈥攚e crawled toward the Times Building ahead to the north, the wind moaning around us, snow and sleet slashing our faces. This building and the Times Building were constructed wall to wall, touching or almost so, hardly a fraction of an inch between them. The two walls served as a solid, windowless and doorless, double-thickness masonry firewall and it seemed to be working: There was no sign of fire in the building ahead. But from directly below us as we crept along high over the street, a river of heat flowed up past us, partly deflected by the V of the sign, but almost scorching on our hands as they slid along the sign's upper edge. Julia moved more slowly than I did, hampered by her many skirts, and I had to stop, and again I became aware of the street and the park. Fire bells had been clamoring below us, and now I looked down through the haze of falling snow directly into the spark-belching st I saw firemen running with ladders and others standing in pairs holding brass-nozzled hoses playing thick white jets into the burning building, and their black rubber coats were already beginning to whiten with new ice. Police with lengths of rope stretched between them were forcing the crowd off the street and up over the curb and walks across Park Row. The crowd there, edging the park, was much denser now, and from here it seemed almost solid black. Strangely, to me, there were a number of raised umbrellas in the crowd against the snow, and for some odd reason the sight of the tops of those black umbrellas made me realize how high up I was. I raised my eyes from the crowd, and far off across the park on Chambers Street, a single-horse black ambulance, a white cross on its side, raced toward us from the west. I thought I heard its bell and I saw the driver, leaning far forward, whipping th then it disappeared behind the Court House. It took a second or two to see those things, and Julia had crawled on no more than a yard. I glanced behind and below, before moving after her: Flame shot high, black smoke rolled and coiled from the top of every window I could see on the first floor and fro and on the ledge of a third-floor window the man and two girls who'd been running behind us stood huddled. He had one arm outstretched across the two girls, keeping them off our sign, knowing it would undoubtedly pull loose and fall from the weight of even one more person. He saw me looking, and gestured wildly, urging me on. I crawled ahead, trying to hurry, my foot snagged a support wire, and I heard it twang and snap behind me, heard the sign groan, felt it shuddering under our weight. A woman screamed inthat instant, very close, and I thought it was Julia. But it came from just overhead, I realized, and I glanced up as I crawled on. The toes of a pair of shoes projected from a window ledge directly over me, and I leaned out over the street to look up. A woman was standing on the ledge, her eyes wide a there was no sign under her window. Julia stopped suddenly, crouched motionless on the very end of the sign, and I leaned out over the street to look past her and see why she'd stopped. The floors of the Times Building were slightly higher than these, so the sign under its third-floor windows hung a little above ours. The sign was short, running under only two windows, and I could see the white letters on black reading, J. WALTER THOMPSON, ADVERTISING AGENT. There was a foot-and-a-half gap between the two signs, and Julia crouched at the end of ours, frozen鈥攗nable to make herself step up and across that empty space. Our sign began vibrating violently, and I looked back: One of the girls on the window ledge, her face wild with panic, had a foot out on our sign, about to step onto it. The moment she did it woul I knew that. Julia had looked back, too, and she saw and understood what I did. Suddenly she stood upright, and鈥擨 was certain her eyes were squeezed shut鈥攕he stepped blindly up and out over the gap with her right foot. It struck the wall of the Times Building, then slid down into the trough between wall and sign. She lifted her left foot from our sign, and threw her body forward across the gap, her left foot hunting for the top of the other sign. I never want to see such a moment again鈥攚atching Julia's foot plunge down toward the snow-mounded edge of that sign, knowing that if it missed she'd fall out and over its edge. But it struck, slithered an instant in the slippery snow, then her right hand smacked the wall of the Times Building beside her, and she stood swaying for balance. She half stooped, half fell forward, and鈥攅ven in her terror she remembered me behind her鈥攕he crawled on, making room for me to step across, too. But I didn't. I crept to the end of the sign I was on, and waited: I couldn't be certain Julia's sign would hold us both but now I knew that this would hold two. Looking back once more I saw only the one girl on it, making her way toward me. Julia reached the first window and before I had time to wonder if it were open, a man's coat-sleeved arms shot out, gripped Julia under the arms, and lifted her right off the sign and in through the window, her feet kicking a little as they disappeared. I stood up then, stepped right across the gap, and moved quickly toward the same window. Just before I reached it I looked back through the snowstorm, and now the second girl was out on the sign, scuttling along it, but the man still waited on the sill, and now an occasional flick of flam the heat must have been terrible. I made a little saluting gesture and smiled, hoping it he had nerve. Then I was at the window, the same man鈥攜oung and bearded鈥攈elping me in, and Julia and I were safe. I had an arm around her waist, grinning at her, and both her arms were tight around me, her head pressed to my chest. She kept looking up at me, shaking her head, and making a sound that was partly a laugh and partly a sob of relief, murmuring, "Thank God, thank God, thank God." With my free arm I was shaking hands, as he introduced himself, with the man who'd pulled us in. He was Mr. Thompson, and this was his office. It was a fairly large room with a rolltop desk, twowooden chairs, a wooden file cabinet, a drawing board, and a batch of one-column newspaper ads, all type, thumbtacked to a bulletin board. Two men stood smiling, and I recognized one: It was Dr. Prime of the Observer, the man who'd directed me to the janitor of the other building several days ago. He and the man with him, he said, had escaped over the sign as we had. Thompson turned to his window again, to help the first girl out on the sign crawl in, and Julia and I left. We walked down the hall to the building staircase, and a man in shirt-sleeves came hurrying toward us, struggling into a coat. He called out as we turned onto the stairs. He was a reporter from the Times: Were we among the people he'd seen escaping into the building from the Observer sign? I said we weren't, that they were all back in Thompson's office. Then Julia and I ran down the stairs to the street. We stepped out into wind and slashing snow, and instantly a voice shouted angrily at us. I a fireman out by his engine stood gesturing violently, waving us
red coals from the firebox of the great brass cylinder sifted steadily down onto the melting snow between the big red wheels. Before we could move, four or five men ran directly past our doorway carrying a long pair of extension ladders from a hook-and-ladder truck just to the north. One of the men, a stocky, angry-faced middle-aged man wearing a dull-silk hat tied on with a blue muffler, shouted straight into my face as he raced past, "Help us!" Julia and I ran with them, they set the ladder down, and I helped them swing it up against the burning building and raise the extension. As we heaved the extension up with a rope-and-pulley system built into the ladder, I had a chance to raise my head and see what we were doing. Three men in vests and shirt-sleeves, one wearing a green eyeshade, stood on the ledges of three adjoining fourth-floor windows, peering down at us through a curtain of snow. The man in the window nearest the T his forearms upraised, fists clenched, he was shaking them violently up and down, his mouth wide-open and screaming meaninglessly. Our ladder was too short: Rising between a pair of windows, it touched the building wall just above the third floor, well below the three men on the fourth. I didn't know what to do, and looke half a dozen yards behind me Julia stood out in the street staring up at the burning building, and something about her expression made me run out beside her and turn to look, too. And now I saw the entire face of the building. I have, as I always will, I think, a copy of The New York Times of the following morning, February 1, 1882. The entire front page and most of the second is filled by an account of that awful fire. I don't want to put down what Julia and I instead I will quote directly from the Times.I've tried to be factually accurate in this story. Horse cars really ran where S El stations actually were located where he g the things he saw in the lobby of the old Astor Hou quotations from newspapers
and the arm of the Statue of Liberty did indeed stand in Madison Square, a truth that especially pleases me. Occasionally my efforts at accuracy became compulsive, as in my account of the World Building fire and events just preceding it, in which I became obsessed with getting times of day and exact details of changing weather during the fire, and names of tenants and even the room numbers of that unmemorable old wreck of a building correct or close to it. I even tell myself that my fictional solution to the mystery of that forgotten fire's origins blends so well with the known facts that it might have been accepted as truth at the time. This kind of research becomes time-wasting foolishness, but fun. I haven't let accuracy interfere with the story, though. If I needed a fine old Dakota apartment building in 1882, and found it wasn't finished till 1885, I just mo sue me. So there are some deliberate inaccuracies, and maybe even an o it's only a story, offered only as entertainment. But鈥攚ith the enormous help of Warren Brown and Lenore Redstone, who did a great deal of knowledgeable, imaginative research鈥擨 doubt that I made too many. Si's photographs and sketches were not, of course, products of his own hand. Many of the best illustrations were searched out with endless patience, kindness, and intelligent judgment by Miss Charlotte La Rue of the Museum of the City of New York. Others were kindly lent to me by Brown B by Culver Pictures, Inc. ; by the Home Insurance C by the Museum of the City of New Y and by The New-York Historical Society, New York City. The photographs and sketches represent the time pretty well, I think, even though they couldn't all be strictly of the eighteen-eighties. Before 1900 things didn't change so fast as now鈥攐ne more reason why Si so wisely decided to stay back there. 工商商标注册查询官网鈥淟et me,鈥 a voice said. Thick-fingered hands unfastened helm from gorget and lifted it off gently.鈥淎s are we all. If there is aught that I can do . . .鈥滭/p>鈥淲hat about him? If he鈥檚 some fool from Maidenpool, he might not even find the bloody path. And if he does, we鈥檒l lose him in the woods. He won鈥檛 have no road to follow there.鈥滭/p>鈥淏ut rises again, harder and stronger.鈥 Victarion lifted off his helm and knelt. The bay filled his boots and soaked his breeches as Aeron poured a stream of salt water down upon his brow. And so they prayed.Even so, it was a better voyage than the last one Sam had taken. He had been no more than ten when he set sail on Lord Redwyne鈥檚 galleas, the Arbor Queen. Five times as large as Blackbird and magnificent to behold, she had three great burgundy sails and banks of oars that flashed gold and white in the sunlight. The way they rose and fell as the ship departed Oldtown had made Sam hold his breath . . . but that was the last good memory he had of the Redwyne Straits. Then as now the sea had made him sick, to his lord father鈥檚 disgust.鈥淵ou Lannisters had best remember that,鈥 Robb said, lowering his sword. 鈥淗odor, bring mybrother here.鈥滭/p>鈥淟et him die,鈥 said Qyburn. 鈥淗is death will be a lesson to the north, to show them what becomes of traitors.鈥滭/p>鈥淢鈥檒ady? You look sad. Are you thinking of your sister?鈥 The dwarf patted her on the hand. 鈥淭he Crone will light your way to her, never fear. The Maiden will keep her safe.鈥滭/p>
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1.商标注册需要注意哪些相关事项？
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知识产权专家把关商标名称，确保商标注册最大成功率。
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1.同一天申请的商标相同或者类似的怎么办？
2.申报材料不齐全，商标局要求补正，该怎么做？
3.小项选择不规范，商标局要求补正，该怎么做？
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知识产权顾问继续关注商标动向。
1.受理通知书申请后大概多长时间下发？
2.受理通知书去哪可以查询？
3.如何辨别商标受理通知书是真是假？
4.受理通知书下来，如何正规使用？
5.商标受理通知书出来后就一定能注册成功吗？
6.拿到商标受理通知书，就可以生产该产品？
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我们致力于为企业提供更专业、更高性价比、更透明、更高效的知识产权服务。
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个人注册，1-2个月可以拿到受理通知书，1年半左右可以发证；公司注册，15个工作日可以拿到受理通知书，1年半左右可以发证。
商标转让的时间大约在6-10个月。
1、大概有6个月正在申请中的商标不能查询（因为还没有输入商标局微机系统）；
2、商标审查有一定的主观性，能否注册成功有时取决于审查员的具体判断，大家的认识可能不一致，并且审查员每年都要换类审查。
商标转让是将已注册商标通过商标局的转让申请办理
风险极小。
据中国商标总局2015年12月底统计，我国累计商标注册申请量为1552.7万件，累计商标注册量为1002.7万件，基本上较好的汉字组合都已经被注册了。企业要想申请一个名字较好的商标非常困难，大多企业则委曲求全注册一个并不能够突显企业本身和产品特色的商标。
商标转让可以购买一些已具备知名度的商标，对产品推广有利。
企业新申请一个商标到拿到注册证一般需要1年半至2年的时间;期间企业要生产经营、要销售产品，同时会作大量的广告宣传，印制产品内外包装，进行渠道建设。所需花费以数十万计算。一旦注册失败，带给企业的损失不可估计。
企业将一个已经注册成功的商标转让到自己的名下，能够在第一时间内拥有自己的品牌。}