[Truyện TA] George R. R. Martin - A Song of Ice and Fire 2 - A Clash of Kings

Chapter 5
Arya​

They traveled dawn to dusk, past woods and orchards and neatly tended fields, through small villages, crowded market towns, and stout holdfasts. Come dark, they would make camp and eat by the light of the Red Sword. The men took turns standing watch. Arya would glimpse firelight flickering through the trees from the camps of other travelers. There seemed to be more camps every night, and more traffic on the kingsroad by day.
Morn, noon, and night they came, old folks and little children, big men and small ones, barefoot girls and women with babes at their breasts. Some drove farm wagons or bumped along in the back of ox carts. More rode: draft horses, ponies, mules, donkeys, anything that would walk or run or roll. One woman led a milk cow with a little girl on its back. Arya saw a smith pushing a wheelbarrow with his tools inside, hammers and tongs and even an anvil, and a little while later a different man with a different wheelbarrow, only inside this one were two babies in a blanket. Most came on foot, with their goods on their shoulders and weary, wary looks upon their faces. They walked south, toward the city, toward King?Ts Landing, and only one in a hundred spared so much as a word for Yoren and his charges, traveling north. She wondered why no one else was going the same way as them.
Many of the travelers were armed; Arya saw daggers and dirks, scythes and axes, and here and there a sword. Some had made clubs from tree limbs, or carved knobby staffs. They fingered their weapons and gave lingering looks at the wagons as they rolled by, yet in the end they let the column pass. Thirty was too many, no matter what they had in those wagons.
Look with your eyes, Syrio had said, listen with your ears.
One day a madwoman began to scream at them from the side of the road. ?oFools! They?Tll kill you, fools!? She was scarecrow thin, with hollow eyes and bloody feet.
The next morning, a sleek merchant on a grey mare reined up by Yoren and offered to buy his wagons and everything in them for a quarter of their worth. ?oIt?Ts war, they?Tll take what they want, you?Tll do better selling to me, my friend.? Yoren turned away with a twist of his crooked shoulders, and spat.
Arya noticed the first grave that same day; a small mound beside the road, dug for a child. A crystal had been set in the soft earth, and Lommy wanted to take it until the Bull told him hê?Td better leave the dead alone. A few leagues farther on, Praed pointed out more graves, a whole row freshly dug. After that, a day hardly passed without one.
One time Arya woke in the dark, frightened for no reason she could name. Above, the Red Sword shared the sky with half a thousand stars. The night seemed oddly quiet to her, though she could hear Yoren?Ts muttered snores, the crackle of the fire, even the muffled stirrings of the donkeys. Yet somehow it felt as though the world were holding its breath, and the silence made her shiver. She went back to sleep clutching Needle.
Come morning, when Praed did not awaken, Arya realized that it had been his coughing she had missed. They dug a grave of their own then, burying the sellsword where hê?Td slept. Yoren stripped him of his valuables before they threw the dirt on him. One man claimed his boots, another his dagger. His mail shirt and helm were parceled out. His longsword Yoren handed to the Bull. ?oArms like yours, might be you can learn to use this,? he told him. A boy called Tarber tossed a handful of acorns on top of Praed?Ts body, so an oak might grow to mark his place.
That evening they stopped in a village at an ivy-covered inn. Yoren counted the coins in his purse and decided they had enough for a hot meal. ?oWê?Tll sleep outside, same as ever, but they got a bathhouse here, if any of you feels the need ô?T hot water and a lick ô?T soap.?
Arya did not dare, even though she smelled as bad as Yoren by now, all sour and stinky. Some of the creatures living in her clothes had come all the way from Flea Bottom with her; it didn?Tt seem right to drown them. Tarber and Hot Pie and the Bull joined the line of men headed for the tubs. Others settled down in front of the bathhouse. The rest crowded into the common room. Yoren even sent Lommy out with tankards for the three in fetters, whô?Td been left chained up in the back of their wagon.
Washed and unwashed alike supped on hot pork pies and baked apples. The innkeeper gave them a round of beer on the house. ?oI had a brother took the black, years ago. Serving boy, clever, but one day he got seen filching pepper from m?Tlord?Ts table. He liked the taste of it, is all. Just a pinch ô?T pepper, but Ser Malcolm was a hard man. You get pepper on the Wall?? When Yoren shook his head, the man sighed. ?oShame. Lync loved that pepper.?
Arya sipped at her tankard cautiously, between spoonfuls of pie still warm from the oven. Her father sometimes let them have a cup of beer, she remembered. Sansa used to make a face at the taste and say that wine was ever so much finer, but Arya had liked it well enough. It made her sad to think of Sansa and her father.
The inn was full of people moving south, and the common room erupted in scorn when Yoren said they were traveling the other way. ?oYou?Tll be back soon enough,? the innkeeper vowed. ?oTherê?Ts no going north. Half the fields are burnt, and what folks are left are walled up inside their holdfasts. One bunch rides off at dawn and another one shows up by dusk.?
?oThat?Ts nothing to us,? Yoren insisted stubbornly. ?oTully or Lannister, makes no matter. The Watch takes no part.?
Lord Tully is my grandfather, Arya thought. It mattered to her, but she chewed her lip and kept quiet, listening.
?oIt?Ts more than Lannister and Tully,? the innkeeper said. ?oTherê?Ts wild men down from the Mountains of the Moon, try telling them you take no part. And the Starks are in it too, the young lord?Ts come down, the dead Hand?Ts son...?
Arya sat up straight, straining to hear. Did he mean Robb?
?oI heard the boy rides to battle on a wolf,? said a yellow-haired man with a tankard in his hand.
?oFool?Ts talk.? Yoren spat.
?oThe man I heard it from, he saw it himself. A wolf big as a horse, he swore.?
?oSwearing don?Tt make it true, Hod,? the innkeeper said. ?oYou keep swearing you?Tll pay what you owe me, and I?Tve yet to see a copper.? The common room erupted in laughter, and the man with the yellow hair turned red.
?oIt?Ts been a bad year for wolves,? volunteered a sallow man in a travelstained green cloak. ?oAround the Gods Eye, the packs have grown bolder?Tn anyone can remember. Sheep, cows, dogs, makes no matter, they kill as they like, and they got no fear of men. It?Ts worth your life to go into those woods by night.?
?oAh, that?Ts more tales, and no more true than the other.?
?oI heard the same thing from my cousin, and shê?Ts not the sort to lie,? an old woman said. ?oShe says therê?Ts this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell.?
A she-wolf. Arya sloshed her beer, wondering. Was the Gods Eye near the Trident? She wished she had a map. It had been near the Trident that shê?Td left Nymeria. She hadn?Tt wanted to, but Jory said they had no choice, that if the wolf came back with them shê?Td be killed for biting Joffrey, even though hê?Td deserved it. They?Td had to shout and scream and throw stones, and it wasn?Tt until a few of Aryâ?Ts stones struck home that the direwolf had finally stopped following them. She probably wouldn?Tt even know me now, Arya thought. Or if she did, shê?Td hate me.
The man in the green cloak said, ?oI heard how this hellbitch walked into a village one day... a market day, people everywhere, and she walks in bold as you please and tears a baby from his mother?Ts arms. When the tale reached Lord Mooton, him and his sons swore they?Td put an end to her. They tracked her to her lair with a pack of wolfhounds, and barely escaped with their skins. Not one of those dogs came back, not one.?
?oThat?Ts just a story,? Arya blurted out before she could stop herself. ?oWolves don?Tt eat babies.?
?oAnd what would you know about it, lad?? asked the man in the green cloak.
Before she could think of an answer, Yoren had her by the arm. ?oThe boy?Ts greensick on beer, that?Ts all it is.?
?oNo I?Tm not. They don?Tt eat babies...?
?oOutside, boy... and see that you stay there until you learn to shut your mouth when men are talking.? He gave her a stiff shove, toward the side door that led back to the stables. ?oGo on now. See that the stableboy has watered our horses.?

Arya went outside, stiff with fury. ?oThey don?Tt,? she muttered, kicking at a rock as she stalked off. It went rolling and fetched up under the wagons.
?oBoy,? a friendly voice called out. ?oLovely boy.?
One of the men in irons was talking to her. Warily, Arya approached the wagon, one hand on Needlê?Ts hilt.
The prisoner lifted an empty tankard, his chains rattling. ?oA man could use another taste of beer. A man has a thirst, wearing these heavy bracelets.? He was the youngest of the three, slender, fine-featured, always smiling. His hair was red on one side and white on the other, all matted and filthy from cage and travel. ?oA man could use a bath too,? he said, when he saw the way Arya was looking at him. ?oA boy could make a friend.?
?oI have friends,? Arya said.
?oNone I can see,? said the one without a nose. He was squat and thick, with huge hands. Black hair covered his arms and legs and chest, even his back. He reminded Arya of a drawing she had once seen in a book, of an ape from the Summer Isles. The hole in his face made it hard to look at him for long.
The bald one opened his mouth and hissed like some immense white lizard. When Arya flinched back, startled, he opened his mouth wide and waggled his tongue at her, only it was more a stump than a tongue. ?oStop that,? she blurted.
?oA man does not choose his companions in the black cells,? the handsome one with the red-and-white hair said. Something about the way he talked reminded her of Syrio; it was the same, yet different too. ?oThese two, they have no courtesy. A man must ask forgiveness. You are called Arry, is that not so??
?oLumpyhead,? said the noseless one. ?oLumpyhead Lumpyface Stickboy. Have a care, Lorath, hê?Tll hit you with his stick.?
?oA man must be ashamed of the company he keeps, Arry,? the handsome one said. ?oThis man has the honor to be Jaqen Hghar, once of the Free City of Lorath. Would that he were home. This man?Ts ill-bred companions in captivity are named Rorgê? - he waved his tankard at the noseless man - ?oand Biter.? Biter hissed at her again, displaying a mouthful of yellowed teeth filed into points. ?oA man must have some name, is that not so? Biter cannot speak and Biter cannot write, yet his teeth are very sharp, so a man calls him Biter and he smiles. Are you charmed??
Arya backed away from the wagon. ?oNo.? They can?Tt hurt me, she told herself, they?Tre all chained up.
He turned his tankard upside down. ?oA man must weep.?
Rorge, the noseless one, flung his drinking cup at her with a curse. His manacles made him clumsy, yet even so he would have sent the heavy pewter tankard crashing into her head if Arya hadn?Tt leapt aside. ?oYou get us some beer, pimple. Now!?
?oYou shut your mouth!? Arya tried to think what Syrio would have done. She drew her wooden practice sword.
?oCome closer,? Rorge said, ?oand I?Tll shove that stick up your bunghole and **** you bloody.?
Fear cuts deeper than swords. Arya made herself approach the wagon. Every step was harder than the one before. Fierce as a wolverine, calm as still water. The words sang in her head. Syrio would not have been afraid. She was almost close enough to touch the wheel when Biter lurched to his feet and grabbed for her, his irons clanking and rattling. The manacles brought his hands up short, half a foot from her face. He hissed.
She hit him. Hard, right between his little eyes.
Screaming, Biter reeled back, and then threw all his weight against his chains. The links slithered and turned and grew taut, and Arya heard the creak of old dry wood as the great iron rings strained against the floorboards of the wagon. Huge pale hands groped for her while veins bulged along Biter?Ts arms, but the bonds held, and finally the man collapsed backward. Blood ran from the weeping sores on his cheeks.
?oA boy has more courage than sense,? the one who had named himself Jaqen H?Tghar observed.
Arya edged backward away from the wagon. When she felt the hand on her shoulder, she whirled, bringing up her stick sword again, but it was only the Bull. ?oWhat are you doing??
He raised his hands defensively. ?oYoren said none of us should go near those three.?
?oThey don?Tt scare me,? Arya said.
?oThen you?Tre stupid. They scare me.? The Bull?Ts hand fell to the hilt of his sword, and Rorge began to laugh. ?oLet?Ts get away from them.?
Arya scuffed at the ground with her foot, but she let the Bull lead her around to the front of the inn. Rorgê?Ts laughter and Biter?Ts hissing followed them. ?oWant to fight?? she asked the Bull. She wanted to hit something.
He blinked at her, startled. Strands of thick black hair, still wet from the bathhouse, fell across his deep blue eyes. ?oI?Td hurt you.?
?oYou would not.?
?oYou don?Tt know how strong I am.?
?oYou don?Tt know how quick I am.?
?oYou?Tre asking for it, Arry.? He drew Praed?Ts longsword. ?oThis is cheap steel, but it?Ts a real sword.?
Arya unsheathed Needle. ?oThis is good steel, so it?Ts realer than yours.?
The Bull shook his head. ?oPromise not to cry if I cut you??
?oI?Tll promise if you will.? She turned sideways, into her water dancer?Ts stance, but the Bull did not move. He was looking at something behind her. ?oWhat?Ts wrong??
?oGold cloaks.? His face closed up tight.
It couldn?Tt be, Arya thought, but when she glanced back, they were riding up the kingsroad, six in the black ringmail and golden cloaks of the City Watch. One was an officer; he wore a black enamel breastplate ornamented with four golden disks. They drew up in front of the inn.
Look with your eyes, Syriô?Ts voice seemed to whisper. Her eyes saw white lather under their saddles; the horses had been ridden long and hard. Calm as still water, she took the Bull by the arm and drew him back behind a tall flowering hedge.
?oWhat is it?? he asked. ?oWhat are you doing? Let go.?
?oQuiet as a shadow,? she whispered, pulling him down.
Some of Yoren?Ts other charges were sitting in front of the bathhouse, waiting their turn at a tub. ?oYou men,? one of the gold cloaks shouted. ?oYou the ones left to take the black??
?oWe might be,? came the cautious answer.
?oWê?Td rather join you boys,? old Reysen said. ?oWe hear it?Ts cold on that Wall.?
The gold cloak officer dismounted. ?oI have a warrant for a certain boy-?
Yoren stepped out of the inn, fingering his tangled black beard. ?oWho is it wants this boy??
The other gold cloaks were dismounting to stand beside their horses. ?oWhy are we hiding?? the Bull whispered.
?oIt?Ts me they want,? Arya whispered back. His ear smelled of soap. ?oYou be quiet.?
?oThe queen wants him, old man, not that it?Ts your concern,? the officer said, drawing a ribbon from his belt. ?oHere, Her Gracê?Ts seal and warrant.?
Behind the hedge, the Bull shook his head doubtfully. ?oWhy would the queen want you, Arry??
She punched his shoulder. ?oBe quiet!?
Yoren fingered the warrant ribbon with its blob of golden wax. ?oPretty.? He spit. ?oThing is, the boy?Ts in the Night?Ts Watch now. What he done back in the city don?Tt mean piss-all.?
?oThe queen?Ts not interested in your views, old man, and neither am I,? the officer said. ?oI?Tll have the boy.?
Arya thought about running, but she knew she wouldn?Tt get far on her donkey when the gold cloaks had horses. And she was so tired of running. Shê?Td run when Ser Meryn came for her, and again when they killed her father. If she was a real water dancer, she would go out there with Needle and kill all of them, and never run from anyone ever again.
?oYou?Tll have no one,? Yoren said stubbornly. ?oTherê?Ts laws on such things.?
The gold cloak drew a shortsword. ?oHerê?Ts your law.?
Yoren looked at the blade. ?oThat?Ts no law, just a sword. Happens I got one too.?
The officer smiled. ?oOld fool. I have five men with me.?
Yoren spat. ?oHappens I got thirty.?
The gold cloak laughed. ?oThis lot?? said a big lout with a broken nose. ?oWhô?Ts first?? he shouted, showing his steel.
Tarber plucked a pitchfork out of a bale of hay. ?oI am.?
?oNo, I am,? called Cutjack, the plump stonemason, pulling his hammer off the leather apron he always wore.
?oMe.? Kurz came up off the ground with his skinning knife in hand.
?oMe and him.? Koss strung his longbow.
?oAll of us,? said Reysen, snatching up the tall hardwood walking staff he carried.
Dobber stepped naked out of the bathhouse with his clothes in a bundle, saw what was happening, and dropped everything but his dagger. ?oIs it a fight?? he asked.
?oI guess,? said Hot Pie, scrambling on all fours for a big rock to throw. Arya could not believe what she was seeing. She hated Hot Pie! Why would he risk himself for her?
The one with the broken nose still thought it was funny. ?oYou girls put away them rocks and sticks before you get spanked. None of you knows what end of a sword to hold.?
?oI do!? Arya wouldn?Tt let them die for her like Syrio. She wouldn?Tt! Shoving through the hedge with Needle in hand, she slid into a water dancer?Ts stance.
Broken Nose guffawed. The officer looked her up and down. ?oPut the blade away, little girl, no one wants to hurt you.?
?oI?Tm not a girl!? she yelled, furious. What was wrong with them? They rode all this way for her and here she was and they were just smiling at her. ?oI?Tm the one you want.?
?oHê?Ts the one we want.? The officer jabbed his shortsword toward the Bull, whô?Td come forward to stand beside her, Praed?Ts cheap steel in his hand.
But it was a mistake to take his eyes off Yoren, even for an instant. Quick as that, the black brother?Ts sword was pressed to the apple of the officer?Ts throat. ?oNeither?Ts the one you get, less you want me to see if your applê?Ts ripe yet. I got me ten, fifteen more brothers in that inn, if you still need convincing. I was you, I?Td let loose of that gutcutter, spread my cheeks over that fat little horse, and gallop on back to the city.? He spat, and poked harder with the point of his sword. ?oNow.?
The officer?Ts fingers uncurled. His sword fell in the dust.
?oWê?Tll just keep that,? Yoren said. ?oGood steel?Ts always needed on the Wall.?
?oAs you say. For now. Men.? The gold cloaks sheathed and mounted up. ?oYou?Td best scamper up to that Wall of yours in a hurry, old man. The next time I catch you, I believe I?Tll have your head to go with the bastard boy?Ts.?
?oBetter men than you have tried.? Yoren slapped the rump of the officer?Ts horse with the flat of his sword and sent him reeling off down the kingsroad. His men followed.
When they were out of sight, Hot Pie began to whoop, but Yoren looked angrier than ever. ?oFool! You think hê?Ts done with us? Next time he won?Tt prance up and hand me no damn ribbon. Get the rest out ô?T them baths, we need to be moving. Ride all night, maybe we can stay ahead ô?T them for a bit.? He scooped up the shortsword the officer had dropped. ?oWho wants this??
?oMe!? Hot Pie yelled.
?oDon?Tt be using it on Arry.? He handed the boy the sword, hilt first, and walked over to Arya, but it was the Bull he spoke to. ?oQueen wants you bad, boy.?
Arya was lost. ?oWhy should she want him??
The Bull scowled at her. ?oWhy should she want you? You?Tre nothing but a little gutter rat!?
?oWell, you?Tre nothing but a bastard boy!? Or maybe he was only pretending to be a bastard boy. ?oWhat?Ts your true name??
?oGendry,? he said, like he wasn?Tt quite sure.
?oDon?Tt see why no one wants neither ô?T you,? Yoren said, ?obut they can?Tt have you regardless. You ride them two coursers. First sight of a gold cloak, make for the Wall like a dragon?Ts on your tail. The rest ô?T us don?Tt mean spit to them.?
?oExcept for you,? Arya pointed out. ?oThat man said hê?Td take your head too.?
?oWell, as to that,? Yoren said, ?oif he can get it off my shoulders, hê?Ts welcome to it.?

Chapter 6
Jon​

?oSam?? Jon called softly.
The air smelled of paper and dust and years. Before him, tall wooden shelves rose up into dimness, crammed with leatherbound books and bins of ancient scrolls. A faint yellow glow filtered through the stacks from some hidden lamp. Jon blew out the taper he carried, preferring not to risk an open flame amidst so much old dry paper. Instead he followed the light, wending his way down the narrow aisles beneath barrel-vaulted ceilings. All in black, he was a shadow among shadows, dark of hair, long of face, grey of eye. Black moleskin gloves covered his hands; the right because it was burned, the left because a man felt half a fool wearing only one glove.
Samwell Tarly sat hunched over a table in a niche carved into the stone of the wall. The glow came from the lamp hung over his head. He looked up at the sound of Jon?Ts steps.
?oHave you been here all night??
?oHave I?? Sam looked startled.
?oYou didn?Tt break your fast with us, and your bed hadn?Tt been slept in.? Rast suggested that maybe Sam had deserted, but Jon never believed it. Desertion required its own sort of courage, and Sam had little enough of that.
?oIs it morning? Down here therê?Ts no way to know.?
?oSam, you?Tre a sweet fool,? Jon said. ?oYou?Tll miss that bed when wê?Tre sleeping on the cold hard ground, I promise you.?
Sam yawned. ?oMaester Aemon sent me to find maps for the Lord Commander. I never thought... Jon, the books, have you ever seen their like? There are thousands!?
He gazed about him. ?oThe library at Winterfell has more than a hundred. Did you find the maps??
?oOh, yes.? Sam?Ts hand swept over the table, fingers plump as sausages indicating the clutter of books and scrolls before him. ?oA dozen, at the least.? He unfolded a square of parchment. ?oThe paint has faded, but you can see where the mapmaker marked the sites of wildling villages, and therê?Ts another book... where is it now? I was reading it a moment ago.? He shoved some scrolls aside to reveal a dusty volume bound in rotted leather. ?oThis,? he said reverently, ?ois the account of a journey from the Shadow Tower all the way to Lorn Point on the Frozen Shore, written by a ranger named Redwyn. It?Ts not dated, but he mentions a Dorren Stark as King in the North, so it must be from before the Conquest. Jon, they fought giants! Redwyn even traded with the children of the forest, it?Ts all here.? Ever so delicately, he turned pages with a finger. ?oHe drew maps as well, see...?
?oMaybe you could write an account of our ranging, Sam.?
Hê?Td meant to sound encouraging, but it was the wrong thing to say. The last thing Sam needed was to be reminded of what faced them on the morrow. He shuffled the scrolls about aimlessly. ?oTherê?Ts more maps. If I had time to search... everything?Ts a jumble. I could set it all to order, though; I know I could, but it would take time... well, years, in truth.?
?oMormont wanted those maps a little sooner than that.? Jon plucked a scroll from a bin, blew off the worst of the dust. A corner flaked off between his fingers as he unrolled it. ?oLook, this one is crumbling,? he said, frowning over the faded script.
?oBe gentle.? Sam came around the table and took the scroll from his hand, holding it as if it were a wounded animal. ?oThe important books used to be copied over when they needed them. Some of the oldest have been copied half a hundred times, probably.?
?oWell, don?Tt bother copying that one. Twenty-three barrels of pickled cod, eighteen jars of fish oil, a cask of salt...?
?oAn inventory,? Sam said, ?oor perhaps a bill of sale.?
?oWho cares how much pickled cod they ate six hundred years ago?? Jon wondered.
?oI would.? Sam carefully replaced the scroll in the bin from which Jon had plucked it. ?oYou can learn so much from ledgers like that, truly you can. It can tell you how many men were in the Night?Ts Watch then, how they lived, what they ate...?
?oThey ate food,? said Jon, ?oand they lived as we live.?
?oYou?Td be surprised. This vault is a treasure, Jon.?
?oIf you say so.? Jon was doubtful. Treasure meant gold, silver, and jewels, not dust, spiders, and rotting leather.
?oI do,? the fat boy blurted. He was older than Jon, a man grown by law, but it was hard to think of him as anything but a boy. ?oI found drawings of the faces in the trees, and a book about the tongue of the children of the forest... works that even the Citadel doesn?Tt have, scrolls from old Valyria, counts of the seasons written by maesters dead a thousand years...?
?oThe books will still be here when we return.?
?oIf we return...?
?oThe Old Bear is taking two hundred seasoned men, three-quarters of them rangers. Qhorin Halfhand will be bringing another hundred brothers from the Shadow Tower. You?Tll be as safe as if you were back in your lord father?Ts castle at Horn Hill.?
Samwell Tarly managed a sad little smile. ?oI was never very safe in my father?Ts castle either.?
The gods play cruel jests, Jon thought. Pyp and Toad, all a lather to be a part of the great ranging, were to remain at Castle Black. It was Samwell Tarly, the self-proclaimed coward, grossly fat, timid, and near as bad a rider as he was with a sword, who must face the haunted forest. The Old Bear was taking two cages of ravens, so they might send back word as they went. Maester Aemon was blind and far too frail to ride with them, so his steward must go in his place. ?oWe need you for the ravens, Sam. And someone has to help me keep Grenn humble.?
Sam?Ts chins quivered. ?oYou could care for the ravens, or Grenn could, or anyone,? he said with a thin edge of desperation in his voice. ?oI could show you how. You know your letters too, you could write down Lord Mormont?Ts messages as well as I...?
?oI?Tm the Old Bear?Ts steward. I?Tll need to squire for him, tend his horse, set up his tent; I won?Tt have time to watch over birds as well. Sam, you said the words. You?Tre a brother of the Night?Ts Watch now.?
?oA brother of the Night?Ts Watch shouldn?Tt be so scared.?
?oWê?Tre all scared. Wê?Td be fools if we weren?Tt.? Too many rangers had been lost the past two years, even Benjen Stark, Jon?Ts uncle. They had found two of his unclê?Ts men in the wood, slain, but the corpses had risen in the chill of night. Jon?Ts burnt fingers twitched as he remembered. He still saw the wight in his dreams, dead Othor with the burning blue eyes and the cold black hands, but that was the last thing Sam needed to be reminded of. ?oTherê?Ts no shame in fear, my father told me, what matters is how we face it. Come, I?Tll help you gather up the maps.?
Sam nodded unhappily. The shelves were so closely spaced that they had to walk single file as they left. The vault opened onto one of the tunnels the brothers called the wormwalks, winding subterranean passages that linked the keeps and towers of Castle Black under the earth. In summer the wormwalks were seldom used, save by rats and other vermin, but winter was a different matter. When the snows drifted forty and fifty feet high and the ice winds came howling out of the north, the tunnels were all that held Castle Black together.
Soon, Jon thought as they climbed. Hê?Td seen the harbinger that had come to Maester Aemon with word of summer?Ts end, the great raven of the Citadel, white and silent as Ghost. He had seen a winter once, when he was very young, but everyone agreed that it had been a short one, and mild. This one would be different. He could feel it in his bones.
The steep stone steps had Sam puffing like a blacksmith?Ts bellows by the time they reached the surface. They emerged into a brisk wind that made Jon?Ts cloak swirl and snap. Ghost was stretched out asleep beneath the wattle-and-daub wall of the granary, but he woke when Jon appeared, bushy white tail held stiffly upright as he trotted to them.
Sam squinted up at the Wall. It loomed above them, an icy cliff seven hundred feet high. Sometimes it seemed to Jon almost a living thing, with moods of its own. The color of the ice was wont to change with every shift of the light. Now it was the deep blue of frozen rivers, now the dirty white of old snow, and when a cloud passed before the sun it darkened to the pale grey of pitted stone. The Wall stretched east and west as far as the eye could see, so huge that it shrunk the timbered keeps and stone towers of the castle to insignificance. It was the end of the world.
And we are going beyond it.
The morning sky was streaked by thin grey clouds, but the pale red line was there behind them. The black brothers had dubbed the wanderer Mormont?Ts Torch, saying (only half in jest) that the gods must have sent it to light the old man?Ts way through the haunted forest.
?oThe comet?Ts so bright you can see it by day now,? Sam said, shading his eyes with a fistful of books.
?oNever mind about comets, it?Ts maps the Old Bear wants.?
Ghost loped ahead of them. The grounds seemed deserted this morning, with so many rangers off at the brothel in Molê?Ts Town, digging for buried treasure and drinking themselves blind. Grenn had gone with them. Pyp and Halder and Toad had offered to buy him his first woman to celebrate his first ranging. They?Td wanted Jon and Sam to come as well, but Sam was almost as frightened of whores as he was of the haunted forest, and Jon had wanted no part of it. ?oDo what you want,? he told Toad, ?oI took a vow.?
As they passed the sept, he heard voices raised in song. Some men want whores on the eve of battle, and some want gods. Jon wondered who felt better afterward. The sept tempted him no more than the brothel; his own gods kept their temples in the wild places, where the weirwoods spread their bone-white branches. The Seven have no power beyond the Wall, he thought, but my gods will be waiting.

Outside the armory, Ser Endrew Tarth was working with some raw recruits. They?Td come in last night with Conwy, one of the wandering crows who roamed the Seven Kingdoms collecting men for the Wall. This new crop consisted of a greybeard leaning on a staff, two blond boys with the look of brothers, a foppish youth in soiled satin, a raggy man with a clubfoot, and some grinning loon who must have fancied himself a warrior. Ser Endrew was showing him the error of that presumption. He was a gentler master-at-arms than Ser Alliser Thorne had been, but his lessons would still raise bruises. Sam winced at every blow, but Jon Snow watched the swordplay closely.
?oWhat do you make of them, Snow?? Donal Noye stood in the door of his armory, bare-chested under a leather apron, the stump of his left arm uncovered for once. With his big gut and barrel chest, his flat nose and bristly black jaw, Noye did not make a pretty sight, but he was a welcome one nonetheless. The armorer had proved himself a good friend.
?oThey smell of summer,? Jon said as Ser Endrew bullrushed his foe and knocked him sprawling. ?oWhere did Conwy find them??
?oA lord?Ts dungeon near Gulltown,? the smith replied. ?oA brigand, a barber, a beggar, two orphans, and a boy whore. With such do we defend the realms of men.?
?oThey?Tll do.? Jon gave Sam a private smile. ?oWe did.?
Noye drew him closer. ?oYou?Tve heard these tidings of your brother??
?oLast night.? Conwy and his charges had brought the news north with them, and the talk in the common room had been of little else. Jon was still not certain how he felt about it. Robb a king? The brother hê?Td played with, fought with, shared his first cup of wine with? But not mother?Ts milk, no. So now Robb will sip summerwine from jeweled goblets, while I?Tm kneeling beside some stream sucking snowmelt from cupped hands. ?oRobb will make a good king,? he said loyally.
?oWill he now?? The smith eyed him frankly. ?oI hope that?Ts so, boy, but once I might have said the same of Robert.?
?oThey say you forged his warhammer,? Jon remembered.
?oAye. I was his man, a Baratheon man, smith and armorer at Storm?Ts End until I lost the arm. I?Tm old enough to remember Lord Steffon before the sea took him, and I knew those three sons of his since they got their names. I tell you this - Robert was never the same after he put on that crown. Some men are like swords, made for fighting. Hang them up and they go to rust.?
?oAnd his brothers?? Jon asked.
The armorer considered that a moment. ?oRobert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. Hê?Tll break before he bends. And Renly, that one, hê?Ts copper, bright and shiny, pretty to look at but not worth all that much at the end of the day.?
And what metal is Robb? Jon did not ask. Noye was a Baratheon man; likely he thought Joffrey the lawful king and Robb a traitor. Among the brotherhood of the Night?Ts Watch, there was an unspoken pact never to probe too deeply in*****ch matters. Men came to the Wall from all of the Seven Kingdoms, and old loves and loyalties were not easily forgotten, no matter how many oaths a man swore... as Jon himself had good reason to know. Even Sam-his father?Ts House was sworn to Highgarden, whose Lord Tyrell supported King Renly. Best not to talk of such things. The Night?Ts Watch took no sides. ?oLord Mormont awaits us,? Jon said.
?oI won?Tt keep you from the Old Bear.? Noye clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. ?oMay the gods go with you on the morrow, Snow. You bring back that uncle of yours, you hear??
?oWe will,? Jon promised him.
Lord Commander Mormont had taken up residence in the King?Ts Tower after the fire had gutted his own. Jon left Ghost with the guards outside the door. ?oMore stairs,? said Sam miserably as they started up. ?oI hate stairs.?
?oWell, that?Ts one thing we won?Tt face in the wood.?
When they entered the solar, the raven spied them at once. ?oSnow!? the bird shrieked. Mormont broke off his conversation. ?oTook you long enough with those maps.? He pushed the remains of breakfast out of the way to make room on the table. ?oPut them here. I?Tll have a look at them later.?
Thoren Smallwood, a sinewy ranger with a weak chin and a weaker mouth hidden under a thin scraggle of beard, gave Jon and Sam a cool look. He had been one of Alliser Thornê?Ts henchmen, and had no love for either of them. ?oThe Lord Commander?Ts place is at Castle Black, lording and commanding,? he told Mormont, ignoring the newcomers, ?oit seems to me.?
The raven flapped big black wings. ?oMe, me, me.?
?oIf you are ever Lord Commander, you may do as you please,? Mormont told the ranger, ?obut it seems to me that I have not died yet, nor have the brothers put you in my place.?
?oI?Tm First Ranger now, with Ben Stark lost and Ser Jaremy killed,? Smallwood said stubbornly. ?oThe command should be mine.?
Mormont would have none of it. ?oI sent out Ben Stark, and Ser Waymar before him. I do not mean to send you after them and sit wondering how long I must wait before I give you up for lost as well.? He pointed. ?oAnd Stark remains First Ranger until we know for a certainty that he is dead. Should that day come, it will be me who names his successor, not you. Now stop wasting my time. We ride at first light, or have you forgotten??
Smallwood pushed to his feet. ?oAs my lord commands.? On the way out, he frowned at Jon, as if it were somehow his fault.
?oFirst Ranger!? The Old Bear?Ts eyes lighted on Sam. ?oI?Td sooner name you First Ranger. He has the effrontery to tell me to my face that I?Tm too old to ride with him. Do I look old to you, boy?? The hair that had retreated from Mormont?Ts spotted scalp had regrouped beneath his chin in a shaggy grey beard that covered much of his chest. He thumped it hard. ?oDo I look frail??
Sam opened his mouth, gave a little squeak. The Old Bear terrified him. ?oNo, my lord,? Jon offered quickly. ?oYou look strong as a... a...?
?oDon?Tt cozen me, Snow, you know I won?Tt have it. Let me have a look at these maps.? Mormont pawed through them brusquely, giving each no more than a glance and a grunt. ?oWas this all you could find??
?oI... m-m-my lord,? Sam stammered, ?othere... there were more, b-b-but... the dis-disorder...?
?oThese are old,? Mormont complained, and his raven echoed him with a sharp cry of ?oOld, old.?
?oThe villages may come and go, but the hills and rivers will be in the same places,? Jon pointed out.
?oTrue enough. Have you chosen your ravens yet, Tarly??
?oM-m-maester Aemon m-means to p-pick them come evenfall, after the f-f-feeding.?
?oI?Tll have his best. Smart birds, and strong.?
?oStrong,? his own bird said, preening. ?oStrong, strong.?
?oIf it happens that wê?Tre all butchered out there, I mean for my successor to know where and how we died.?
Talk of butchery reduced Samwell Tarly to speechlessness. Mormont leaned forward. ?oTarly, when I was a lad half your age, my lady mother told me that if I stood about with my mouth open, a weasel was like to mistake it for his lair and run down my throat. If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, beware of weasels.? He waved a brusque dismissal. ?oOff with you, I?Tm too busy for folly. No doubt the maester has some work you can do.?
Sam swallowed, stepped back, and scurried out so quickly he almost tripped over the rushes.
?oIs that boy as big a fool as he seems?? the Lord Commander asked when hê?Td gone. ?oFool,? the raven complained. Mormont did not wait for Jon to answer. ?oHis lord father stands high in King Renly?Ts councils, and I had half a notion to dispatch him... no, best not. Renly is not like to heed a quaking fat boy. I?Tll send Ser Arnell. Hê?Ts a deal steadier, and his mother was one of the green-apple Fossoways.?
?oIf it please my lord, what would you have of King Renly??
?oThe same things I?Td have of all of them, lad. Men, horses, swords, armor, grain, cheese, wine, wool, nails... the Night?Ts Watch is not proud, we take what is offered.? His fingers drummed against the roughhewn planks of the table. ?oIf the winds have been kind, Ser Alliser should reach King?Ts Landing by the turn of the moon, but whether this boy Joffrey will pay him any heed, I do not know. House Lannister has never been a friend to the Watch.?
?oThorne has the wight?Ts hand to show them.? A grisly pale thing with black fingers, it was, that twitched and stirred in its jar as if it were still alive.
?oWould that we had another hand to send to Renly.?
?oDywen says you can find anything beyond the Wall.?
?oAye, Dywen says. And the last time he went ranging, he says he saw a bear fifteen feet tall.? Mormont snorted. ?oMy sister is said to have taken a bear for her lover. I?Td believe that before I?Td believe one fifteen feet tall. Though in a world where dead come walking... ah, even so, a man must believe his eyes. I have seen the dead walk. I?Tve not seen any giant bears.? He gave Jon a long, searching look. ?oBut we were speaking of hands. How is yours??
?oBetter.? Jon peeled off his moleskin glove and showed him. Scars covered his arm halfway to the elbow, and the mottled pink flesh still felt tight and tender, but it was healing. ?oIt itches, though. Maester Aemon says that?Ts good. He gave me a salve to take with me when we ride.?
?oYou can wield Longclaw despite the pain??
?oWell enough.? Jon flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fist the way the maester had shown him. ?oI?Tm to work the fingers every day to keep them nimble, as Maester Aemon said.?
?oBlind he may be, but Aemon knows what hê?Ts about. I pray the gods let us keep him another twenty years. Do you know that he might have been king??
Jon was taken by surprise. ?oHe told me his father was king, but not... I thought him perhaps a younger son.?
?oSo he was. His father?Ts father was Daeron Targaryen, the Second of His Name, who brought Dorne into the realm. Part of the pact was that he wed a Dornish princess. She gave him four sons. Aemon?Ts father Maekar was the youngest of those, and Aemon was his third son. Mind you, all this happened long before I was born, ancient as Smallwood would make me.?
?oMaester Aemon was named for the Dragonknight.?
?oSo he was. Some say Prince Aemon was King Daeron?Ts true father, not Aegon the Unworthy. Be that as it may, our Aemon lacked the Dragonknight?Ts martial nature. He likes to say he had a slow sword but quick wits. Small wonder his grandfather packed him off to the Citadel. He was nine or ten, I believe... and ninth or tenth in the line of succession as well.?
Maester Aemon had counted more than a hundred name days, Jon knew. Frail, shrunken, wizened, and blind, it was hard to imagine him as a little boy no older than Arya.
Mormont continued. ?oAemon was at his books when the eldest of his uncles, the heir apparent, was slain in a tourney mishap. He left two sons, but they followed him to the grave not long after, during the Great Spring Sickness. King Daeron was also taken, so the crown passed to Daeron?Ts second son, Aerys.?
?oThe Mad King?? Jon was confused. Aerys had been king before Robert, that wasn?Tt so long ago.
?oNo, this was Aerys the First. The one Robert deposed was the second of that name.?
?oHow long ago was this??
?oEighty years or close enough,? the Old Bear said, ?oand no, I still hadn?Tt been born, though Aemon had forged half a dozen links of his maester?Ts chain by then. Aerys wed his own sister, as the Targaryens were wont to do, and reigned for ten or twelve years. Aemon took his vows and left the Citadel to serve at some lordling?Ts court... until his royal uncle died without issue. The Iron Throne passed to the last of King Daeron?Ts four sons. That was Maekar, Aemon?Ts father. The new king summoned all his sons to court and would have made Aemon part of his councils, but he refused, saying that would usurp the place rightly belonging to the Grand Maester. Instead he served at the keep of his eldest brother, another Daeron. Well, that one died too, leaving only a feeble-witted daughter as heir. Some pox he caught from a whore, I believe. The next brother was Aerion.?
?oAerion the Monstrous?? Jon knew that name. ?oThe Prince Who Thought He Was a Dragon? was one of Old Nan?Ts more gruesome tales. His little brother Bran had loved it.
?oThe very one, though he named himself Aerion Brightflame. One night, in his cups, he drank a jar of wildfire, after telling his friends it would transform him into a dragon, but the gods were kind and it transformed him into a corpse. Not quite a year after, King Maekar died in battle against an outlaw lord.?
Jon was not entirely innocent of the history of the realm; his own maester had seen to that. ?oThat was the year of the Great Council,? he said. ?oThe lords passed over Prince Aerion?Ts infant son and Prince Daeron?Ts daughter and gave the crown to Aegon.?
?oYes and no. First they offered it, quietly, to Aemon. And quietly he refused. The gods meant for him to serve, not to rule, he told them. He had sworn a vow and would not break it, though the High Septon himself offered to absolve him. Well, no sane man wanted any blood of Aerion?Ts on the throne, and Daeron?Ts girl was a lackwit besides being female, so they had no choice but to turn to Aemon?Ts younger brother - Aegon, the Fifth of His Name. Aegon the Unlikely, they called him, born the fourth son of a fourth son. Aemon knew, and rightly, that if he remained at court those who disliked his brother?Ts rule would seek to use him, so he came to the Wall. And here he has remained, while his brother and his brother?Ts son and his son each reigned and died in turn, until Jaime Lannister put an end to the line of the Dragonkings.?
?oKing,? croaked the raven. The bird flapped across the solar to land on Mormont?Ts shoulder. ?oKing,? it said again, strutting back and forth.
?oHe likes that word,? Jon said, smiling.
?oAn easy word to say. An easy word to like.?
?oKing,? the bird said again.
?oI think he means for you to have a crown, my lord.?
?oThe realm has three kings already, and that?Ts two too many for my liking.? Mormont stroked the raven under the beak with a finger, but all the while his eyes never left Jon Snow.
It made him feel odd. ?oMy lord, why have you told me this, about Maester Aemon??
?oMust I have a reason?? Mormont shifted in his seat, frowning. ?oYour brother Robb has been crowned King in the North. You and Aemon have that in common. A king for a brother.?
?oAnd this too,? said Jon. ?oA vow.?
The Old Bear gave a loud snort, and the raven took flight, flapping in a circle about the room, ?oGive me a man for every vow I?Tve seen broken and the Wall will never lack for defenders.?
?oI?Tve always known that Robb would be Lord of Winterfell.?
Mormont gave a whistle, and the bird flew to him again and settled on his arm. ?oA lord?Ts one thing, a king?Ts another.? He offered the raven a handful of corn from his pocket. ?oThey will garb your brother Robb in silks, satins, and velvets of a hundred different colors, while you live and die in black ringmail. He will wed some beautiful princess and father sons on her. You?Tll have no wife, nor will you ever hold a child of your own blood in your arms. Robb will rule, you will serve. Men will call you a crow. Him they?Tll call Your Grace. Singers will praise every little thing he does, while your greatest deeds all go unsung. Tell me that none of this troubles you, Jon... and I?Tll name you a liar, and know I have the truth of it.?
Jon drew himself up, taut as a bowstring. ?oAnd if it did trouble me, what might I do, bastard as I am??
?oWhat will you do?? Mormont asked. ?oBastard as you are??
?oBe troubled,? said Jon, ?oand keep my vows.?

Chapter 7
Catelyn​

Her son?Ts crown was fresh from the forge, and it seemed to Catelyn Stark that the weight of it pressed heavy on Robb?Ts head.
The ancient crown of the Kings of Winter had been lost three centuries ago, yielded up to Aegon the Conqueror when Torrhen Stark knelt in submission. What Aegon had done with it no man could say. Lord Hoster?Ts smith had done his work well, and Robb?Ts crown looked much as the other was said to have looked in the tales told of the Stark kings of old; an open circlet of hammered bronze incised with the runes of the First Men, surmounted by nine black iron spikes wrought in the shape of longswords. Of gold and silver and gemstones, it had none; bronze and iron were the metals of winter, dark and strong to fight against the cold.
As they waited in Riverrun?Ts Great Hall for the prisoner to be brought before them, she saw Robb push back the crown so it rested upon the thick auburn mop of his hair; moments later, he moved it forward again; later he gave it a quarter turn, as if that might make it sit more easily on his brow. It is no easy thing to wear a crown, Catelyn thought, watching, especially for a boy of fifteen years.
When the guards brought in the captive, Robb called for his sword. Olyvar Frey offered it up hilt first, and her son drew the blade and laid it bare across his knees, a threat plain for all to see. ?oYour Grace, here is the man you asked for,? announced Ser Robin Ryger, captain of the Tully household guard.
?oKneel before the king, Lannister!? Theon Greyjoy shouted. Ser Robin forced the prisoner to his knees.
He did not look a lion, Catelyn reflected. This Ser Cleos Frey was a son of the Lady Genna who was sister to Lord Tywin Lannister, but he had none of the fabled Lannister beauty, the fair hair and green eyes. Instead he had inherited the stringy brown locks, weak chin, and thin face of his sire, Ser Emmon Frey, old Lord Walder?Ts second son. His eyes were pale and watery and he could not seem to stop blinking, but perhaps that was only the light. The cells below Riverrun were dark and damp... and these days crowded as well.
?oRise, Ser Cleos.? Her son?Ts voice was not as icy as his father?Ts would have been, but he did not sound a boy of fifteen either. War had made a man of him before his time. Morning light glimmered faintly against the edge of the steel across his knees.
Yet it was not the sword that made Ser Cleos Frey anxious; it was the beast. Grey Wind, her son had named him. A direwolf large as any elkhound, lean and smoke-dark, with eyes like molten gold. When the beast padded forward and sniffed at the captive knight, every man in that hall could smell the scent of fear. Ser Cleos had been taken during the battle in the Whispering Wood, where Grey Wind had ripped out the throats of half a dozen men.
The knight scrambled up, edging away with such alacrity that some of the watchers laughed aloud. ?oThank you, my lord.?
?oYour Grace,? barked Lord Umber, the Greatjon, ever the loudest of Robb?Ts northern bannermen... and the truest and fiercest as well, or so he insisted. He had been the first to proclaim her son King in the North, and he would brook no slight to the honor of his new-made sovereign.
?oYour Grace,? Ser Cleos corrected hastily. ?oPardons.?
He is not a bold man, this one, Catelyn thought. More of a Frey than a Lannister, in truth. His cousin the Kingslayer would have been a much different matter. They would never have gotten that honorific through Ser Jaime Lannister?Ts perfect teeth.
?oI brought you from your cell to carry my message to your cousin Cersei Lannister in King?Ts Landing. You?Tll travel under a peace banner, with thirty of my best men to escort you.?
Ser Cleos was visibly relieved. ?oThen I should be most glad to bring His Gracê?Ts message to the queen.?
?oUnderstand,? Robb said, ?oI am not giving you your freedom. Your grandfather Lord Walder pledged me his support and that of House Frey. Many of your cousins and uncles rode with us in the Whispering Wood, but you chose to fight beneath the lion banner. That makes you a Lannister, not a Frey. I want your pledge, on your honor as a knight, that after you deliver my message you?Tll return with the queen?Ts reply, and resume your captivity.?
Ser Cleos answered at once. ?oI do so vow.?
?oEvery man in this hall has heard you,? warned Catelyn?Ts brother Ser Edmure Tully, who spoke for Riverrun and the lords of the Trident in the place of their dying father. ?oIf you do not return, the whole realm will know you forsworn.?
?oI will do as I pledged,? Ser Cleos replied stiffly. ?oWhat is this message? ?o
?oAn offer of peace.? Robb stood, longsword in hand. Grey Wind moved to his side. The hall grew hushed. ?oTell the Queen Regent that if she meets my terms, I will sheath this sword, and make an end to the war between us.?
In the back of the hall, Catelyn glimpsed the tall, gaunt figure of Lord Rickard Karstark shove through a rank of guards and out the door. No one else moved. Robb paid the disruption no mind. ?oOlyvar, the paper,? he commanded. The squire took his longsword and handed up a rolled parchment.
Robb unrolled it. ?oFirst, the queen must release my sisters and provide them with transport by sea from King?Ts Landing to White Harbor. It is to be understood that Sansâ?Ts betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon is at an end. When I receive word from my castellan that my sisters have returned unharmed to Winterfell, I will release the queen?Ts cousins, the squire Willem Lannister and your brother Tion Frey, and give them safe escort to Casterly Rock or wheresoever she desires them delivered.?
Catelyn Stark wished she could read the thoughts that hid behind each face, each furrowed brow and pair of tightened lips.
?oSecondly, my lord father?Ts bones will be returned to us, so he may rest beside his brother and sister in the crypts beneath Winterfell, as he would have wished. The remains of the men of his household guard who died in his service at King?Ts Landing must also be returned.?
Living men had gone south, and cold bones would return. Ned had the truth of it, she thought. His place was at Winterfell, he said as much, but would I hear him? No. Go, I told him, you must be Robert?Ts Hand, for the good of our House, for the sake of our children... my doing, mine, no other...
?oThird, my father?Ts greatsword Ice will be delivered to my hand, here at Riverrun.?
She watched her brother Ser Edmure Tully as he stood with his thumbs hooked over his swordbelt, his face as still as stone.
?oFourth, the queen will command her father Lord Tywin to release those knights and lords bannermen of mine that he took captive in the battle on the Green Fork of the Trident. Once he does so, I shall release my own captives taken in the Whispering Wood and the Battle of the Camps, save Jaime Lannister alone, who will remain my hostage for his father?Ts good behavior.?
She studied Theon Greyjoy?Ts sly smile, wondering what it meant. That young man had a way of looking as though he knew some secret jest that only he was privy to; Catelyn had never liked it.
?oLastly, King Joffrey and the Queen Regent must renounce all claims to dominion over the north. Henceforth we are no part of their realm, but a free and independent kingdom, as of old. Our domain shall include all the Stark lands north of the Neck, and in ad***ion the lands watered by the River Trident and its vassal streams, bounded by the Golden Tooth to the west and the Mountains of the Moon in the east.?
?oTHE KING IN THE NORTH!? boomed Greatjon Umber, a ham-sized fist hammering at the air as he shouted. ?oStark! Stark! The King in the North!?
Robb rolled up the parchment again. ?oMaester Vyman has drawn a map, showing the borders we claim. You shall have a copy for the queen. Lord Tywin must withdraw beyond these borders, and cease his raiding, burning, and pillage. The Queen Regent and her son shall make no claims to taxes, incomes, nor service from my people, and shall free my lords and knights from all oaths of fealty, vows, pledges, debts, and obligations owed to the Iron Throne and the Houses Baratheon and Lannister. Ad***ionally, the Lannisters shall deliver ten highborn hostages, to be mutually agreed upon, as a pledge of peace. These I will treat as honored guests, according to their station. So long as the terms of this pact are abided with faithfully, I shall release two hostages every year, and return them safely to their families.? Robb tossed the rolled parchment at the knight?Ts feet. ?oThere are the terms. If she meets them, I?Tll give her peace. If not? - he whistled, and Grey Wind moved forward snarling - ?oI?Tll give her another Whispering Wood.?
?oStark!? the Greatjon roared again, and now other voices took up the cry. ?oStark, Stark, King in the North!? The direwolf threw back his head and howled.
Ser Cleos had gone the color of curdled milk. ?oThe queen shall hear your message, my - Your Grace.?
?oGood,? Robb said. ?oSer Robin, see that he has a good meal and clean clothing. Hê?Ts to ride at first light.?
?oAs you command, Your Grace,? Ser Robin Ryger replied.
?oThen we are done.? The assembled knights and lords bannermen bent their knees as Robb turned to leave, Grey Wind at his heels. Olyvar Frey scrambled ahead to open the door. Catelyn followed them out, her brother at her side.
?oYou did well,? she told her son in the gallery that led from the rear of the hall, ?othough that business with the wolf was japery more befitting a boy than a king.?
Robb scratched Grey Wind behind the ear. ?oDid you see the look on his face, Mother?? he asked, smiling.
?oWhat I saw was Lord Karstark, walking out.?
?oAs did I,? Robb lifted off his crown with both hands and gave it to Olyvar. ?oTake this thing back to my bedchamber.?
?oAt once, Your Grace.? The squire hurried off.
?oI?Tll wager there were others who felt the same as Lord Karstark,? her brother Edmure declared. ?oHow can we talk of peace while the Lannisters spread like a pestilence over my father?Ts domains, stealing his crops and slaughtering his people? I say again, we ought to be marching on Harrenhal.?
?oWe lack the strength,? Robb said, though unhappily.
Edmure persisted. ?oDo we grow stronger sitting here? Our host dwindles every day.?
?oAnd whose doing is that?? Catelyn snapped at her brother. It had been at Edmurê?Ts insistence that Robb had given the river lords leave to depart after his crowning, each to defend his own lands. Ser Marq Piper and Lord Karyl Vance had been the first to go. Lord Jonos Bracken had followed, vowing to reclaim the burnt shell of his castle and bury his dead, and now Lord Jason Mallister had announced his intent to return to his seat at Seagard, still mercifully untouched by the fighting.
?oYou cannot ask my river lords to remain idle while their fields are being pillaged and their people put to the sword,? Ser Edmure said, ?obut Lord Karstark is a northman. It would be an ill thing if he were to leave us.?
?oI?Tll speak with him,? said Robb. ?oHe lost two sons in the Whispering Wood. Who can blame him if he does not want to make peace with their killers... with my father?Ts killers...?
?oMore bloodshed will not bring your father back to us, or Lord Rickard?Ts sons,? Catelyn said. ?oAn offer had to be made though a wiser man might have offered sweeter terms.?
?oAny sweeter and I would have gagged.? Her son?Ts beard had grown in redder than his auburn hair. Robb seemed to think it made him look fierce, royal... older. But bearded or no, he was still a youth of fifteen, and wanted vengeance no less than Rickard Karstark. It had been no easy thing to convince him to make even this offer, poor as it was.
?oCersei Lannister will never consent to trade your sisters for a pair of cousins. It?Ts her brother shê?Tll want, as you know full well.? She had told him as much before, but Catelyn was finding that kings do not listen half so attentively as sons.
?oI can?Tt release the Kingslayer, not even if I wanted to. My lords would never abide it.?
?oYour lords made you their king.?
?oAnd can unmake me just as easy.?
?oIf your crown is the price we must pay to have Arya and Sansa returned safe, we should pay it willingly. Half your lords would like to murder Lannister in his cell. If he should die while hê?Ts your prisoner, men will say-?
?o-that he well deserved it,? Robb finished.
?oAnd your sisters?? Catelyn asked sharply. ?oWill they deserve their deaths as well? I promise you, if any harm comes to her brother, Cersei will pay us back blood for blood-?
?oLannister won?Tt die,? Robb said. ?oNo one so much as speaks to him without my warrant. He has food, water, clean straw, more comfort than he has any right to. But I won?Tt free him, not even for Arya and Sansa.?
Her son was looking down at her, Catelyn realized. Was it war that made him grow so fast, she wondered, or the crown they had put on his head? ?oAre you afraid to have Jaime Lannister in the field again, is that the truth of it??
Grey Wind growled, as if he sensed Robb?Ts anger, and Edmure Tully put a brotherly hand on Catelyn?Ts shoulder. ?oCat, don?Tt. The boy has the right of this.?
?oDon?Tt call me the boy,? Robb said, rounding on his uncle, his anger spilling out all at once on poor Edmure, who had only meant *****pport him. ?oI?Tm almost a man grown, and a king - your king, ser. And I don?Tt fear Jaime Lannister. I defeated him once, I?Tll defeat him again if I must, only...? He pushed a fall of hair out of his eyes and gave a shake of the head. ?oI might have been able to trade the Kingslayer for Father, but...?
?o... but not for the girls?? Her voice was icy quiet. ?oGirls are not important enough, are they??
Robb made no answer, but there was hurt in his eyes. Blue eyes, Tully eyes, eyes she had given him. She had wounded him, but he was too much his father?Ts son to admit it.
That was unworthy of me, she told herself. Gods be good, what is to become of me? He is doing his best, trying so hard, I know it, I see it, and yet... I have lost my Ned, the rock my life was built on, I could not bear to lose the girls as well...
?oI?Tll do all I can for my sisters,? Robb said. ?oIf the queen has any sense, shê?Tll accept my terms. If not, I?Tll make her rue the day she refused me.?
Plainly, hê?Td had enough of the subject. ?oMother, are you certain you will not consent to go to the Twins? You would be farther from the fighting, and you could acquaint yourself with Lord Frey?Ts daughters to help me choose my bride when the war is done.?
He wants me gone, Catelyn thought wearily. Kings are not supposed to have mothers, it would seem, and I tell him things he does not want to hear. ?oYou?Tre old enough to decide which of Lord Walder?Ts girls you prefer without your mother?Ts help, Robb.?
?oThen go with Theon. He leaves on the morrow. Hê?Tll help the Mallisters escort that lot of captives to Seagard and then take ship for the Iron Islands. You could find a ship as well, and be back at Winterfell with a moon?Ts turn, if the winds are kind. Bran and Rickon need you.?
And you do not, is that what you mean to say? ?oMy lord father has little enough time remaining him. So long as your grandfather lives, my place is at Riverrun with him.?
?oI could command you to go. As king. I could.?
Catelyn ignored that. ?oI?Tll say again, I would sooner you sent someone else to Pyke, and kept Theon close to you.?
?oWho better to treat with Balon Greyjoy than his son??
?oJason Mallister,? offered Catelyn. ?oTytos Blackwood. Stevron Frey. Anyone... but not Theon.?
Her son squatted beside Grey Wind, ruffling the wolf?Ts fur and incidentally avoiding her eyes. ?oTheon?Ts fought bravely for us. I told you how he saved Bran from those wildlings in the wolfswood. If the Lannisters won?Tt make peace, I?Tll have need of Lord Greyjoy?Ts longships.?
?oYou?Tll have them sooner if you keep his son as hostage.?
?oHê?Ts been a hostage half his life.?
?oFor good reason,? Catelyn said. ?oBalon Greyjoy is not a man to be trusted. He wore a crown himself, remember, if only for a season. He may aspire to wear one again.?
Robb stood. ?oI will not grudge him that. If I?Tm King in the North, let him be King of the Iron Islands, if that?Ts his desire. I?Tll give him a crown gladly, so long as he helps us bring down the Lannisters.?
?oRobb-?
?oI?Tm sending Theon. Good day, Mother. Grey Wind, come.? Robb walked off briskly, the direwolf padding beside him.
Catelyn could only watch him go. Her son and now her king. How queer that felt. Command, she had told him back in Moat Cailin. And so he did. ?oI am going to visit Father,? she announced abruptly. ?oCome with me, Edmure.?
?oI need to have a word with those new bowmen Ser Desmond is training. I?Tll visit him later.?
If he still lives, Catelyn thought, but she said nothing. Her brother would sooner face battle than that sickroom.

The shortest way to the central keep where her father lay dying was through the godswood, with its grass and wildflowers and thick stands of elm and redwood. A wealth of rustling leaves still clung to the branches of the trees, all ignorant of the word the white raven had brought to Riverrun a fortnight past. Autumn had come, the Conclave had declared, but the gods had not seen fit to tell the winds and woods as yet. For that Catelyn was duly grateful. Autumn was always a fearful time, with the specter of winter looming ahead. Even the wisest man never knew whether his next harvest would be the last.
Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun, lay abed in his solar, with its commanding view to the east where the rivers Tumblestone and Red Fork met beyond the walls of his castle. He was sleeping when Catelyn entered, his hair and beard as white as his featherbed, his once portly frame turned small and frail by the death that grew within him.
Beside the bed, still dressed in mail hauberk and travel-stained cloak, sat her father?Ts brother, the Blackfish. His boots were dusty and spattered with dried mud. ?oDoes Robb know you are returned, Uncle?? Ser Brynden Tully was Robb?Ts eyes and ears, the commander of his scouts and outriders.
?oNo. I came here straight from the stables, when they told me the king was holding court. His Grace will want to hear my tidings in private first I?Td think.? The Blackfish was a tall, lean man, grey of hair and precise in his movements, his clean-shaven face lined and windburnt. ?oHow is he?? he asked, and she knew he did not mean Robb.
?oMuch the same. The maester gives him dreamwine and milk of the poppy for his pain, so he sleeps most of the time, and eats too little. He seems weaker with each day that passes.?
?oDoes he speak??
?oYes... but there is less and less sense to the things he says. He talks of his regrets, of unfinished tasks, of people long dead and times long past. Sometimes he does not know what season it is, or who I am. Once he called me by Mother?Ts name.?
?oHe misses her still,? Ser Brynden answered. ?oYou have her face. I can see it in your cheekbones, and your jaw...?
?oYou remember more of her than I do. It has been a long time.? She seated herself on the bed and brushed away a strand of fine white hair that had fallen across her father?Ts face.
?oEach time I ride out, I wonder if I shall find him alive or dead on my return.? Despite their quarrels, there was a deep bond between her father and the brother he had once disowned.
?oAt least you made your peace with him.?
They sat for a time in silence, until Catelyn raised her head. ?oYou spoke of tidings that Robb needed to hear?? Lord Hoster moaned and rolled onto his side, almost as if he had heard.
Brynden stood. ?oCome outside. Best if we do not wake him.?
She followed him out onto the stone balcony that jutted three-sided from the solar like the prow of a ship. Her uncle glanced up, frowning. ?oYou can see it by day now. My men call it the Red Messenger... but what is the message??
Catelyn raised her eyes, to where the faint red line of the comet traced a path across the deep blue sky like a long scratch across the face of god. ?oThe Greatjon told Robb that the old gods have unfurled a red flag of vengeance for Ned. Edmure thinks it?Ts an omen of victory for Riverrun, he sees a fish with a long tail, in the Tully colors, red against blue.? She sighed. ?oI wish I had their faith. Crimson is a Lannister color.?
?oThat thing?Ts not crimson,? Ser Brynden said. ?oNor Tully red, the mud red of the river. That?Ts blood up there, child, smeared across the sky.?T?T
?oOur blood or theirs??
?oWas there ever a war where only one side bled?? Her uncle gave a shake of the head. ?oThe riverlands are awash in blood and flame all around the Gods Eye. The fighting has spread south to the Blackwater and north across the Trident, almost to the Twins. Marq Piper and Karyl Vance have won some small victories, and this southron lordling Beric Dondarrion has been raiding the raiders, falling upon Lord Tywin?Ts foraging parties and vanishing back into the woods. It?Ts said that Ser Burton Crakehall was boasting that hê?Td slain Dondarrion, until he led his column into one of Lord Beric?Ts traps and got every man of them killed.?
?oSome of Ned?Ts guard from King?Ts Landing are with this Lord Beric,? Catelyn recalled. ?oMay the gods preserve them.?
?oDondarrion and this red priest who rides with him are clever enough to preserve themselves, if the tales be true,? her uncle said, ?obut your father?Ts bannermen make a sadder tale. Robb should never have let them go. They?Tve scattered like quail, each man trying to protect his own, and it?Ts folly, Cat, folly. Jonos Bracken was wounded in the fighting amidst the ruins of his castle, and his nephew Hendry slain. Tytos Blackwood?Ts swept the Lannisters off his lands, but they took every cow and pig and speck of grain and left him nothing to defend but Raventree Hall and a scorched desert. Darry men recaptured their lord?Ts keep but held it less than a fortnight before Gregor Clegane descended on them and put the whole garrison to the sword, even their lord.?
Catelyn was horrorstruck. ?oDarry was only a child.?
?oAye, and the last of his line as well. The boy would have brought a fine ransom, but what does gold mean to a frothing dog like Gregor Clegane? That beast?Ts head would make a noble gift for all the people of the realm, I vow.?
Catelyn knew Ser Gregor?Ts evil reputation, yet still ?oDon?Tt speak to me of heads, Uncle. Cersei has mounted Ned?Ts on a spike above the walls of the Red Keep, and left it for the crows and flies.? Even now, it was hard for her to believe that he was truly gone. Some nights she would wake in darkness, half-asleep, and for an instant expect to find him there beside her. ?oClegane is no more than Lord Tywin?Ts catspaw.? For Tywin Lannister - Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, father to Queen Cersei, Ser Jaime the Kingslayer, and Tyrion the Imp, and grandfather to Joffrey Baratheon, the newly crowned boy king - was the true danger, Catelyn believed.
?oTrue enough,? Ser Brynden admitted. ?oAnd Tywin Lannister is no man?Ts fool. He sits safe behind the walls of Harrenhal, feeding his host on our harvest and burning what he does not take. Gregor is not the only dog hê?Ts loosed. Ser Amory Lorch is in the field as well, and some sellsword out of Qohor whô?Td sooner maim a man than kill him. I?Tve seen what they leave behind them. Whole villages put to the torch, women raped and mutilated, butchered children left unburied to draw wolves and wild dogs... it would sicken even the dead.?
?oWhen Edmure hears this, he will rage.?
?oAnd that will be just as Lord Tywin desires. Even terror has its purpose, Cat. Lannister wants to provoke us to battle.?
?oRobb is like to give him that wish,? Catelyn said, fretful. ?oHe is restless as a cat sitting here, and Edmure and the Greatjon and the others will urge him on.? Her son had won two great victories, smashing Jaime Lannister in the Whispering Wood and routing his leaderless host outside the walls of Riverrun in the Battle of the Camps, but from the way some of his bannermen spoke of him, he might have been Aegon the Conqueror reborn.
Brynden Blackfish arched a bushy grey eyebrow. ?oMore fool they. My first rule of war, Cat - never give the enemy his wish. Lord Tywin would like to fight on a field of his own choosing. He wants us to march on Harrenhal.?
?oHarrenhal.? Every child of the Trident knew the tales told of Harrenhal, the vast fortress that King Harren the Black had raised beside the waters of Gods Eye three hundred years past, when the Seven Kingdoms had been seven kingdoms, and the riverlands were ruled by the ironmen from the islands. In his pride, Harren had desired the highest hall and tallest towers in all Westeros. Forty years it had taken, rising like a great shadow on the shore of the lake while Harren?Ts armies plundered his neighbors for stone, lumber, gold, and workers. Thousands of captives died in his quarries, chained to his sledges, or laboring on his five colossal towers. Men froze by winter and sweltered in summer. Weirwoods that had stood three thousand years were cut down for beams and rafters. Harren had beggared the riverlands and the Iron Islands alike to ornament his dream. And when at last Harrenhal stood complete, on the very day King Harren took up residence, Aegon the Conqueror had come ashore at King?Ts Landing.
Catelyn could remember hearing Old Nan tell the story to her own children, back at Winterfell. ?oAnd King Harren learned that thick walls and high towers are small use against dragons,? the tale always ended. ?oFor dragons fly.? Harren and all his line had perished in the fires that engulfed his monstrous fortress, and every house that held Harrenhal since had come to misfortune. Strong it might be, but it was a dark place, and cursed.
?oI would not have Robb fight a battle in the shadow of that keep,? Catelyn admitted. ?oYet we must do something, Uncle.?
?oAnd soon,? her uncle agreed. ?oI have not told you the worst of it, child. The men I sent west have brought back word that a new host is gathering at Casterly Rock.?
Another Lannister army. The thought made her ill. ?oRobb must be told at once. Who will command??
?oSer Stafford Lannister, it?Ts said.? He turned to gaze out over the rivers, his red-and-blue cloak stirring in the breeze.
?oAnother nephew?? The Lannisters of Casterly Rock were a damnably large and fertile house.
?oCousin,? Ser Brynden corrected. ?oBrother to Lord Tywin?Ts late wife, so twice related. An old man and a bit of a dullard, but he has a son, Ser Daven, who is more formidable.?
?oThen let us hope it is the father and not the son who takes this army into the field.?
?oWe have some time yet before we must face them. This lot will be sellswords, freeriders, and green boys from the stews of Lannisport. Ser Stafford must see that they are armed and drilled before he dare risk battle... and make no mistake, Lord Tywin is not the Kingslayer. He will not rush in heedless. He will wait patiently for Ser Stafford to march before he stirs from behind the walls of Harrenhal.?
?oUnless...? said Catelyn.
?oYes?? Ser Brynden prompted.
?oUnless he must leave Harrenhal,? she said, ?oto face some other threat.?
Her uncle looked at her thoughtfully. ?oLord Renly.?
?oKing Renly.? If she would ask help from the man, she would need to grant him the style he had claimed for himself.
?oPerhaps.? The Blackfish smiled a dangerous smile. ?oHê?Tll want something, though.?
?oHê?Tll want what kings always want,? she said. ?oHomage.?

Chapter 8
Tyrion​

Janos Slynt was a butcher?Ts son, and he laughed like a man chopping meat. ?oMore wine?? Tyrion asked him.
?oI should not object,? Lord Janos said, holding out his cup. He was built like a keg, and had a similar capacity. ?oI should not object at all. That?Ts a fine red. From the Arbor??
?oDornish.? Tyrion gestured, and his serving man poured. But for the servants, he and Lord Janos were alone in the Small Hall, at a small candlelit table surrounded by darkness. ?oQuite the find. Dornish wines are not often so rich.?
?oRich,? said the big frog-faced man, taking a healthy gulp. He was not a man for sipping, Janos Slynt. Tyrion had made note of that at once. ?oYes, rich, that?Ts the very word I was searching for, the very word. You have a gift for words, Lord Tyrion, if I might say so. And you tell a droll tale. Droll, yes.?
?oI?Tm pleased you think so... but I?Tm not a lord, as you are. A simple Tyrion will suffice for me, Lord Janos.?
?oAs you wish.? He took another swallow, dribbling wine on the front of his black satin doublet. He was wearing a cloth-of-gold half cape fastened with a miniature spear, its point enameled in dark red. And he was well and truly drunk.
Tyrion covered his mouth and belched politely. Unlike Lord Janos he had gone easy on the wine, but he was very full. The first thing he had done after taking up residence in the Tower of the Hand was inquire after the finest cook in the city and take her into his service. This evening they had supped on oxtail soup, summer greens tossed with pecans, grapes, red fennel, and crumbled cheese, hot crab pie, spiced squash, and quails drowned in butter. Each dish had come with its own wine. Lord Janos allowed that he had never eaten half so well. ?oNo doubt that will change when you take your seat in Harrenhal,? Tyrion said.
?oFor a certainty. Perhaps I should ask this cook of yours to enter my service, what do you say??
?oWars have been fought over less,? he said, and they both had a good long laugh. ?oYou?Tre a bold man to take Harrenhal for your seat. Such a grim place, and huge... costly to maintain. And some say cursed as well.?
?oShould I fear a pile of stone?? He hooted at the notion. ?oA bold man, you said. You must be bold, to rise. As I have. To Harrenhal, yes! And why not? You know. You are a bold man too, I sense. Small, mayhap, but bold.?
?oYou are too kind. More wine??
?oNo. No, truly, I... oh, gods be damned, yes. Why not? A bold man drinks his fill!?
?oTruly.? Tyrion filled Lord Slynt?Ts cup to the brim. ?oI have been glancing over the names you put forward to take your place as Commander of the City Watch.?
?oGood men. Fine men. Any of the six will do, but I?Td choose Allar Deem. My right arm. Good good man. Loyal. Pick him and you won?Tt be sorry. If he pleases the king.?
?oTo be sure.? Tyrion took a small sip of his own wine. ?oI had been considering Ser Jacelyn Bywater. Hê?Ts been captain on the Mud Gate for three years, and he served with valor during Balon Greyjoy?Ts Rebellion. King Robert knighted him at Pyke. And yet his name does not appear on your list.?
Lord Janos Slynt took a gulp of wine and sloshed it around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. ?oBywater. Well. Brave man, to be sure, yet... hê?Ts rigid, that one. A queer dog. The men don?Tt like him. A cripple too, lost his hand at Pyke, that?Ts what got him knighted. A poor trade, if you ask me, a hand for a ser.? He laughed. ?oSer Jacelyn thinks overmuch of himself and his honor, as I see it. You?Tll do better leaving that one where he is, my lor-Tyrion. Allar Deem?Ts the man for you.?
?oDeem is little loved in the streets, I am told.?
?oHê?Ts feared. That?Ts better.?
?oWhat was it I heard of him? Some trouble in a brothel??
?oThat. Not his fault, my lor-Tyrion. No. He never meant to kill the woman, that was her own doing. He warned her to stand aside and let him do his duty.?
?oStill... mothers and children, he might have expected shê?Td try to save the babe.? Tyrion smiled. ?oHave some of this cheese, it goes splendidly with the wine. Tell me, why did you choose Deem for that unhappy task??
?oA good commander knows his men, Tyrion. Some are good for one job, some for another. Doing for a babe, and her still on the tit, that takes a certain sort. Not every man?Td do it. Even if it was only some whore and her whelp.?
?oI suppose that?Ts so,? said Tyrion, hearing only some whore and thinking of Shae, and Tysha long ago, and all the other women who had taken his coin and his seed over the years.
Slynt went on, oblivious. ?oA hard man for a hard job, is Deem. Does as hê?Ts told, and never a word afterward.? He cut a slice off the cheese. ?oThis is fine. Sharp. Give me a good sharp knife and a good sharp cheese and I?Tm a happy man.?
Tyrion shrugged. ?oEnjoy it while you can. With the riverlands in flame and Renly king in Highgarden, good cheese will soon be hard to come by. So who sent you after the whorê?Ts bastard??
Lord Janos gave Tyrion a wary look, then laughed and wagged a wedge of cheese at him. ?oYou?Tre a sly one, Tyrion. Thought you could trick me, did you? It takes more than wine and cheese to make Janos Slynt tell more than he should. I pride myself. Never a question, and never a word afterward, not with me.?
?oAs with Deem.?
?oJust the same. You make him your Commander when I?Tm off to Harrenhal, and you won?Tt regret it.?
Tyrion broke off a nibble of the cheese. It was sharp indeed, and veined with wine; very choice. ?oWhoever the king names will not have an easy time stepping into your armor, I can tell. Lord Mormont faces the same problem.?
Lord Janos looked puzzled. ?oI thought she was a lady. Mormont. Beds down with bears, that?Ts the one??
?oIt was her brother I was speaking of. Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night?Ts Watch. When I was visiting with him on the Wall, he mentioned how concerned he was about finding a good man to take his place. The Watch gets so few good men these days.? Tyrion grinned. ?oHê?Td sleep easier if he had a man like you, I imagine. Or the valiant Allar Deem.?
Lord Janos roared. ?oSmall chance of that!?
?oOne would think,? Tyrion said, ?obut life does take queer turns. Consider Eddard Stark, my lord. I don?Tt suppose he ever imagined his life would end on the steps of Baelor?Ts Sept.?
?oThere were damn few as did,? Lord Janos allowed, chuckling.
Tyrion chuckled too. ?oA pity I wasn?Tt here to see it. They say even Varys was surprised.?
Lord Janos laughed so hard his gut shook. ?oThe Spider,? he said. ?oKnows everything, they say. Well, he didn?Tt know that.?
?oHow could he?? Tyrion put the first hint of a chill in his tone. ?oHe had helped persuade my sister that Stark should be pardoned, on the con***ion that he take the black.?
?oEh?? Janos Slynt blinked vaguely at Tyrion.
?oMy sister Cersei,? Tyrion repeated, a shade more strongly, in case the fool had some doubt who he meant. ?oThe Queen Regent.?
?oYes.? Slynt took a swallow. ?oAs to that, well... the king commanded it, m?Tlord. The king himself.?
?oThe king is thirteen,? Tyrion reminded him.
?oStill. He is the king.? Slynt?Ts jowls quivered when he frowned. ?oThe Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.?
?oWell, one or two of them, at least,? Tyrion said with a sour smile. ?oMight I have a look at your spear??
?oMy spear?? Lord Janos blinked in confusion.
Tyrion pointed. ?oThe clasp that fastens your cape.?
Hesitantly, Lord Janos drew out the ornament and handed it to Tyrion.
?oWe have goldsmiths in Lannisport who do better work, he opined. ?oThe red enamel blood is a shade much, if you don?Tt mind my saying. Tell me, my lord, did you drive the spear into the man?Ts back yourself, or did you only give the command??
?oI gave the command, and I?Td give it again. Lord Stark was a traitor.? The bald spot in the middle of Slynt?Ts head was beet-red, and his cloth-of-gold cape had slithered off his shoulders onto the floor. ?oThe man tried to buy me.?
?oLittle dreaming that you had already been sold.?
Slynt slammed down his wine cup. ?oAre you drunk? If you think I will sit here and have my honor questioned...?
?oWhat honor is that? I do admit, you made a better bargain than Ser Jacelyn. A lordship and a castle for a spear thrust in the back, and you didn?Tt even need to thrust the spear.? He tossed the golden ornament back to Janos Slynt. It bounced off his chest and clattered to the floor as the man rose.
?oI mislike the tone of your voice, my lo-Imp. I am the Lord of Harrenhal and a member of the king?Ts council, who are you to chastise me like this??
Tyrion ****ed his head sideways. ?oI think you know quite well who I am. How many sons do you have??
?oWhat are my sons to you, dwarf??
?oDwarf?? His anger flashed. ?oYou should have stopped at Imp. I am Tyrion of House Lannister, and someday, if you have the sense the gods gave a sea slug, you will drop to your knees in thanks that it was me you had to deal with, and not my lord father. Now, how many sons do you have??
Tyrion could see the sudden fear in Janos Slynt?Ts eyes. ?oTh-three, m?Tlord. And a daughter. Please, m?Tlord-?
?oYou need not beg.? He slid off his chair. ?oYou have my word, no harm will come to them. The younger boys will be fostered out as squires. If they serve well and loyally, they may be knights in time. Let it never be said that House Lannister does not reward those who serve it. Your eldest son will inherit the title Lord Slynt, and this appalling sigil of yours.? He kicked at the little golden spear and sent it skittering across the floor. ?oLands will be found for him, and he can build a seat for himself. It will not be Harrenhal, but it will be sufficient. It will be up to him to make a marriage for the girl.?
Janos Slynt?Ts face had gone from red to white. ?oWh-what... what do you... ?? His jowls were quivering like mounds of suet.
?oWhat do I mean to do with you?? Tyrion let the oaf tremble for a moment before he answered. ?oThe carrack Summer?Ts Dream sails on the morning tide. Her master tells me she will call at Gulltown, the Three Sisters, the isle of Skagos, and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. When you see Lord Commander Mormont, give him my fond regards, and tell him that I have not forgotten the needs of the Night?Ts Watch. I wish you long life and good service, my lord.?
Once Janos Slynt realized he was not to be summarily executed, color returned to his face. He thrust his jaw out. ?oWe will see about this, Imp. Dwarf. Perhaps it will be you on that ship, what do you think of that? Perhaps it will be you on the Wall.? He gave a bark of anxious laughter. ?oYou and your threats, well, we will see. I am the king?Ts friend, you know. We shall hear what Joffrey has to say about this. And Littlefinger and the queen, oh, yes. Janos Slynt has a good many friends. We will see who goes sailing, I promise you. Indeed we will.?
Slynt spun on his heel like the watchman hê?Td once been, and strode the length of the Small Hall, boots ringing on the stone. He clattered up the steps, threw open the door... and came face-to-face with a tall, lantern-jawed man in black breastplate and gold cloak. Strapped to the stump of his right wrist was an iron hand. ?oJanos,? he said, deep-set eyes glinting under a prominent brow ridge and a shock of salt-and-pepper hair. Six gold cloaks moved quietly into the Small Hall behind him as Janos Slynt backed away.
?oLord Slynt,? Tyrion called out, ?oI believe you know Ser Jacelyn Bywater, our new Commander of the City Watch.?
?oWe have a litter waiting for you, my lord,? Ser Jacelyn told Slynt. ?oThe docks are dark and distant, and the streets are not safe by night. Men.?
As the gold cloaks ushered out their onetime commander, Tyrion called Ser Jacelyn to his side and handed him a roll of parchment. ?oIt?Ts a long voyage, and Lord Slynt will want for company. See that these six join him on the Summer?Ts Dream.?
Bywater glanced over the names and smiled. ?oAs you will.?
?oTherê?Ts one,? Tyrion said quietly. ?oDeem. Tell the captain it would not be taken amiss if that one should happen to be swept overboard before they reach Eastwatch.?
?oI?Tm told those northern waters are very stormy, my lord.? Ser Jacelyn bowed and took his leave, his cloak rippling behind him. He trod on Slynt?Ts cloth-of-gold cape on his way.

Tyrion sat alone, sipping at what remained of the fine sweet Dornish wine. Servants came and went, clearing the dishes from the table. He told them to leave the wine. When they were done, Varys came gliding into the hall, wearing flowing lavender robes that matched his smell. ?oOh sweetly done, my good lord.?
?oThen why do I have this bitter taste in my mouth?? He pressed his fingers into his temples. ?oI told them to throw Allar Deem into the sea. I am sorely tempted to do the same with you.?
?oYou might be disappointed by the result,? Varys replied. ?oThe storms come and go, the waves crash overhead, the big fish eat the little fish, and I keep on paddling. Might I trouble you for a taste of the wine that Lord Slynt enjoyed so much??
Tyrion waved at the flagon, frowning.
Varys filled a cup. ?oAh. Sweet as summer.? He took another sip. ?oI hear the grapes singing on my tongue.?
?oI wondered what that noise was. Tell the grapes to keep still, my head is about to split. It was my sister. That was what the oh-so-loyal Lord Janos refused to say. Cersei sent the gold cloaks to that brothel.?
Varys tittered nervously. So he had known all along.
?oYou left that part out,? Tyrion said accusingly.
?oYour own sweet sister,? Varys said, so grief-stricken he looked close to tears. ?oIt is a hard thing to tell a man, my lord. I was fearful how you might take it. Can you forgive me??
?oNo,? Tyrion snapped. ?oDamn you. Damn her.? He could not touch Cersei, he knew. Not yet, not even if hê?Td wanted to, and he was far from certain that he did. Yet it rankled, to sit here and make a mummer?Ts show of justice by punishing the sorry likes of Janos Slynt and Allar Deem, while his sister continued on her savage course. ?oIn future, you will tell me what you know, Lord Varys. All of what you know.?
The eunuch?Ts smile was sly. ?oThat might take rather a long time, my good lord. I know quite a lot.?
?oNot enough to save this child, it would seem.?
?oAlas, no. There was another bastard, a boy, older. I took steps to see him removed from harm?Ts way... but I confess, I never dreamed the babe would be at risk. A baseborn girl, less than a year old, with a whore for a mother. What threat could she pose??
?oShe was Robert?Ts,? Tyrion said bitterly. ?oThat was enough for Cersei, it would seem.?
?oYes. It is grievous sad. I must blame myself for the poor sweet babe and her mother, who was so young and loved the king.?
?oDid she?? Tyrion had never seen the dead girl?Ts face, but in his mind she was Shae and Tysha both. ?oCan a whore truly love anyone, I wonder? No, don?Tt answer. Some things I would rather not know.? He had settled Shae in a sprawling stone-and-timber manse, with its own well and stable and garden; he had given her servants to see to her wants, a white bird from the Summer Isles to keep her company, silks and silver and gemstones to adorn her, guards to protect her. And yet she seemed restive. She wanted to be with him more, she told him; she wanted to serve him and help him. ?oYou help me most here, between the sheets,? he told her one night after their loving as he lay beside her, his head pillowed against her breast, his groin aching with a sweet soreness. She made no reply, save with her eyes. He could see there that it was not what shê?Td wanted to hear.
Sighing, Tyrion started to reach for the wine again, then remembered Lord Janos and pushed the flagon away. ?oIt does seem my sister was telling the truth about Stark?Ts death. We have my nephew to thank for that madness.?
?oKing Joffrey gave the command. Janos Slynt and Ser Ilyn Payne carried it out, swiftly, without hesitation...?
?o... almost as if they had expected it. Yes, we have been over this ground before, without profit. A folly.?
?oWith the City Watch in hand, my lord, you are well placed to see to it that His Grace commits no further... follies? To be sure, there is still the queen?Ts household guard to consider...?
?oThe red cloaks?? Tyrion shrugged. ?oVylarr?Ts loyalty is to Casterly Rock. He knows I am here with my father?Ts authority. Cersei would find it hard to use his men against me... besides, they are only a hundred. I have half again as many men of my own. And six thousand gold cloaks, if Bywater is the man you claim.?
?oYou will find Ser Jacelyn to be courageous, honorable, obedient... and most grateful.?
?oTo whom, I wonder?? Tyrion did not trust Varys, though there was no denying his value. He knew things, beyond a doubt. ?oWhy are you so helpful, my lord Varys?? he asked, studying the man?Ts soft hands, the bald powdered face, the slimy little smile.
?oYou are the Hand. I serve the realm, the king, and you.?
?oAs you served Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark??
?oI served Lord Arryn and Lord Stark as best I could. I was saddened and horrified by their most untimely deaths.?
?oThink how I feel. I?Tm like to be next.?
?oOh, I think not,? Varys said, swirling the wine in his cup. ?oPower is a curious thing, my lord. Perchance you have considered the riddle I posed you that day in the inn??
?oIt has crossed my mind a time or two,? Tyrion admitted. ?oThe king, the priest, the rich man-who lives and who dies? Who will the swordsman obey? It?Ts a riddle without an answer, or rather, too many answers. All depends on the man with the sword.?
?oAnd yet he is no one,? Varys said. ?oHe has neither crown nor gold nor favor of the gods, only a piece of pointed steel.?
?oThat piece of steel is the power of life and death.?
?oJust so... yet if it is the swordsmen who rule us in truth, why do we pretend our kings hold the power? Why should a strong man with a sword ever obey a child king like Joffrey, or a wine-sodden oaf like his father??
?oBecause these child kings and drunken oafs can call other strong men, with other swords.?
?oThen these other swordsmen have the true power. Or do they? Whence came their swords? Why do they obey?? Varys smiled. ?oSome say knowledge is power. Some tell us that all power comes from the gods. Others say it derives from law. Yet that day on the steps of Baelor?Ts Sept, our godly High Septon and the lawful Queen Regent and your ever-so-knowledgeable servant were as powerless as any cobbler or cooper in the crowd. Who truly killed Eddard Stark do you think? Joffrey, who gave the command? Ser Ilyn Payne, who swung the sword? Or... another??
Tyrion ****ed his head sideways. ?oDid you mean to answer your damned riddle, or only to make my head ache worse??
Varys smiled. ?oHere, then. Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less.?
?oSo power is a mummer?Ts trick??
?oA shadow on the wall,? Varys murmured, ?oyet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.?
Tyrion smiled. ?oLord Varys, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you yet, but I think I?Td feel sad about it.?
?oI will take that as high praise.?
?oWhat are you, Varys?? Tyrion found he truly wanted to know. ?oA spider, they say.?
?oSpies and informers are seldom loved, my lord. I am but a loyal servant of the realm.?
?oAnd a eunuch. Let us not forget that.?
?oI seldom do.?
?oPeople have called me a halfman too, yet I think the gods have been kinder to me. I am small, my legs are twisted, and women do not look upon me with any great yearning... yet I?Tm still a man. Shae is not the first to grace my bed, and one day I may take a wife and sire a son. If the gods are good, hê?Tll look like his uncle and think like his father. You have no such hope *****stain you. Dwarfs are a jape of the gods... but men make eunuchs. Who cut you, Varys? When and why? Who are you, truly??
The eunuch?Ts smile never flickered, but his eyes glittered with something that was not laughter. ?oYou are kind to ask, my lord, but my tale is long and sad, and we have treasons to discuss.? He drew a parchment from the sleeve of his robe. ?oThe master of the King?Ts Galley White Hart plots to slip anchor three days hence to offer his sword and ship to Lord Stannis.?
Tyrion sighed. ?oI suppose we must make some sort of bloody lesson out of the man??
?oSer Jacelyn could arrange for him to vanish, but a trial before the king would help assure the continued loyalty of the other captains.?
And keep my royal nephew occupied as well. ?oAs you say. Put him down for a dose of Joffrey?Ts justice.?
Varys made a mark on the parchment. ?oSer Horas and Ser Hobber Redwyne have bribed a guard to let them out a postern gate, the night after next. Arrangements have been made for them to sail on the Pentoshi galley Moonrunner, disguised as oarsmen.?
?oCan we keep them on those oars for a few years, see how they fancy it?? He smiled. ?oNo, my sister would be distraught to lose such treasured guests. Inform Ser Jacelyn. Seize the man they bribed and explain what an honor it is to serve as a brother of the Night?Ts Watch. And have men posted around the Moonrunner, in case the Redwynes find a second guard short of coin.?
?oAs you will.? Another mark on the parchment. ?oYour man Timett slew a wineseller?Ts son this evening, at a gambling den on the Street of Silver. He accused him of cheating at tiles.?
?oWas it true??
?oOh, beyond a doubt.?
?oThen the honest men of the city owe Timett a debt of gratitude. I shall see that he has the king?Ts thanks.?
The eunuch gave a nervous giggle and made another mark. ?oWe also have a sudden plague of holy men. The comet has brought forth all manner of queer priests, preachers, and prophets, it would seem. They beg in the winesinks and pot-shops and foretell doom and destruction to anyone who stops to listen.?
Tyrion shrugged. ?oWe are close on the three hundredth year since Aegon?Ts Landing, I suppose it is only to be expected. Let them rant.?
?oThey are spreading fear, my lord.?
?oI thought that was your job.?
Varys covered his mouth with his hand. ?oYou are very cruel to say so. One last matter. Lady Tanda gave a small supper last night. I have the menu and the guest list for your inspection. When the wine was poured, Lord Gyles rose to lift a cup to the king, and Ser Balon Swann was heard to remark, ?~Wê?Tll need three cups for that.?T Many laughed...?
Tyrion raised a hand. ?oEnough. Ser Balon made a jest. I am not interested in treasonous table talk, Lord Varys.?
?oYou are as wise as you are gentle, my lord.? The parchment vanished up the eunuch?Ts sleeve. ?oWe both have much to do. I shall leave you.?
When the eunuch had departed, Tyrion sat for a long time watching the candle and wondering how his sister would take the news of Janos Slynt?Ts dismissal. Not happily, if he was any judge, but beyond sending an angry protest to Lord Tywin in Harrenhal, he did not see what Cersei could hope to do about it. Tyrion had the City Watch now, plus a hundred-and-a-half fierce clansmen and a growing force of sellswords recruited by Bronn. He would seem well protected.
Doubtless Eddard Stark thought the same.
The Red Keep was dark and still when Tyrion left the Small Hall. Bronn was waiting in his solar. ?oSlynt?? he asked.
?oLord Janos will be sailing for the Wall on the morning tide. Varys would have me believe that I have replaced one of Joffrey?Ts men with one of my own. More likely, I have replaced Littlefinger?Ts man with one belonging to Varys, but so be it.?
?oYou?Td best know, Timett killed a man-?
?oVarys told me.?
The sellsword seemed unsurprised. ?oThe fool figured a one-eyed man would be easier to cheat. Timett pinned his wrist to the table with a dagger and ripped out his throat barehanded. He has this trick where he stiffens his fingers-?
?oSpare me the grisly details, my supper is sitting badly in my belly,? Tyrion said. ?oHow goes your recruiting??
?oWell enough. Three new men tonight.?
?oHow do you know which ones to hire??
?oI look them over. I question them, to learn where they?Tve fought and how well they lie.? Bronn smiled. ?oAnd then I give them a chance to kill me, while I do the same for them.?
?oHave you killed any??
?oNo one we could have used.?
?oAnd if one of them kills you??
?oHê?Tll be one you?Tll want to hire.?
Tyrion was a little drunk, and very tired. ?oTell me, Bronn. If I told you to kill a babe... an infant girl, say, still at her mother?Ts breast... would you do it? Without question??
?oWithout question? No.? The sellsword rubbed thumb and forefinger together. ?oI?Td ask how much.?
And why would I ever need your Allar Deem, Lord Slynt? Tyrion thought. I have a hundred of my own. He wanted to laugh; he wanted to weep; most of all, he wanted Shae.

Chapter 9
Arya​

The road was little more than two ruts through the weeds.
The good part was, with so little traffic therê?Td be no one to point the finger and say which way they?Td gone. The human flood that had flowed down the kingsroad was only a trickle here.
The bad part was, the road wound back and forth like a snake, tangling with even smaller trails and sometimes seeming to vanish entirely only to reappear half a league farther on when they had all but given up hope. Arya hated it. The land was gentle enough, rolling hills and terraced fields interspersed with meadows and woodlands and little valleys where willows crowded close to slow shallow streams. Even so, the path was so narrow and crooked that their pace had dropped to a crawl.
It was the wagons that slowed them, lumbering along, axles creaking under the weight of their heavy loads. A dozen times a day they had to stop to free a wheel that had stuck in a rut, or double up the teams to climb a muddy slope. Once, in the middle of a dense stand of oak, they came face-to-face with three men pulling a load of firewood in an ox cart, with no way for either to get around. There had been nothing for it but to wait while the foresters unhitched their ox, led him through the trees, spun the cart, hitched the ox up again, and started back the way they?Td come. The ox was even slower than the wagons, so that day they hardly got anywhere at all.
Arya could not help looking over her shoulder, wondering when the gold cloaks would catch them. At night, she woke at every noise to grab for Needlê?Ts hilt. They never made camp without putting out sentries now, but Arya did not trust them, especially the orphan boys. They might have done well enough in the alleys of King?Ts Landing, but out here they were lost. When she was being quiet as a shadow, she could sneak past all of them, flitting out by starlight to make her water in the woods where no one would see. Once, when Lommy Greenhands had the watch, she shimmied up an oak and moved from tree to tree until she was right above his head, and he never saw a thing. She would have jumped down on top of him, but she knew his scream would wake the whole camp, and Yoren might take a stick to her again.
Lommy and the other orphans all treated the Bull like someone special now because the queen wanted his head, though he would have none of it. ?oI never did nothing to no queen,? he said angrily. ?oI did my work, is all. Bellows and tongs and fetch and carry. I was s?Tposed to be an armorer, and one day Master Mott says I got to join the Night?Ts Watch, that?Ts all I know.? Then hê?Td go off to polish his helm. It was a beautiful helm, rounded and curved, with a slit visor and two great metal bull?Ts horns. Arya would watch him polish the metal with an oilcloth, shining it so bright you could see the flames of the cookfire reflected in the steel. Yet he never actually put it on his head.
?oI bet hê?Ts that traitor?Ts bastard,? Lommy said one night, in a hushed voice so Gendry would not hear. ?oThe wolf lord, the one they nicked on Baelor?Ts steps.?
?oHe is not,? Arya declared. My father only had one bastard, and that?Ts Jon. She stalked off into the trees, wishing she could just saddle her horse and ride home. She was a good horse, a chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead. And Arya had always been a good rider. She could gallop off and never see any of them, unless she wanted to. Only then shê?Td have no one to scout ahead of her, or watch behind, or stand guard while she napped, and when the gold cloaks caught her, shê?Td be all alone. It was safer to stay with Yoren and the others.
?oWê?Tre not far from Gods Eye,? the black brother said one morning. ?oThe kingsroad won?Tt be safe till wê?Tre across the Trident. So wê?Tll come up around the lake along the western shore, they?Tre not like to look for us there.? At the next spot where two ruts cut cross each other, he turned the wagons west.
Here farmland gave way to forest, the villages and holdfasts were smaller and farther apart, the hills higher and the valleys deeper. Food grew harder to come by. In the city, Yoren had loaded up the wagons with salt fish, hard bread, lard, turnips, sacks of beans and barley, and wheels of yellow cheese, but every bite of it had been eaten. Forced to live off the land, Yoren turned to Koss and Kurz, whô?Td been taken as poachers. He would send them ahead of the column, into the woods, and come dusk they would be back with a deer slung between them on a pole or a brace of quail swinging from their belts. The younger boys would be set to picking blackberries along the road, or climbing fences to fill a sack with apples if they happened upon an orchard.
Arya was a skilled climber and a fast picker, and she liked to go off by herself. One day she came across a rabbit, purely by happenstance. It was brown and fat, with long ears and a twitchy nose. Rabbits ran faster than cats, but they couldn?Tt climb trees half so well. She whacked it with her stick and grabbed it by its ears, and Yoren stewed it with some mushrooms and wild onions. Arya was given a whole leg, since it was her rabbit. She shared it with Gendry. The rest of them each got a spoonful, even the three in manacles. Jaqen H?Tghar thanked her politely for the treat, and Biter licked the grease off his dirty fingers with a blissful look, but Rorge, the noseless one, only laughed and said, ?oTherê?Ts a hunter now. Lumpyface Lumpyhead Rabbitkiller.?
Outside a holdfast called Briarwhite, some fieldhands surrounded them in a cornfield, demanding coin for the ears they?Td taken. Yoren eyed their scythes and tossed them a few coppers. ?oTime was, a man in black was feasted from Dorne to Winterfell, and even high lords called it an honor to shelter him under their roofs,? he said bitterly. ?oNow cravens like you want hard coin for a bite of wormy apple.? He spat.
?oIt?Ts sweetcorn, better?Tn a stinking old black bird like you deserves,? one of them answered roughly. ?oYou get out of our field now, and take these sneaks and stabbers with you, or wê?Tll stake you up in the corn to scare the other crows away.?
They roasted the sweetcorn in the husk that night, turning the ears with long forked sticks, and ate it hot right off the cob. Arya thought it tasted wonderful, but Yoren was too angry to eat. A cloud seemed to hang over him, ragged and black as his cloak. He paced about the camp restlessly, muttering to himself.
The next day Koss came racing back to warn Yoren of a camp ahead. ?oTwenty or thirty men, in mail and halfhelms,? he said. ?oSome of them are cut up bad, and onê?Ts dying, from the sound of him. With all the noise he was making, I got right up close. They got spears and shields, but only one horse, and that?Ts lame. I think they been there awhile, from the stink of the place.?
?oSee a banner??
?oSpotted treecat, yellow and black, on a mud-brown field.?
Yoren folded a sourleaf into his mouth and chewed. ?oCan?Tt say,? he admitted. ?oMight be one side, might be t?Tother. If they?Tre hurt that bad, likely they?Td take our mounts no matter who they are. Might be they?Td take more than that. I believe wê?Tll go wide around them.? It took them miles out of their way, and cost them two days at the least, but the old man said it was cheap at the price. ?oYou?Tll have time enough on the Wall. The rest ô?T your lives, most like. Seems to me therê?Ts no rush to get there.?
Arya saw men guarding the fields more and more when they turned north again. Often they stood silently beside the road, giving a cold eye to anyone who passed. Elsewhere they patrolled on horses, riding their fence lines with axes strapped to their saddles. At one place, she spotted a man perched up in a dead tree, with a bow in his hand and a quiver hanging from the branch beside him. The moment he spied them, he notched an arrow to his bowstring, and never looked away until the last wagon was out of sight. All the while, Yoren cursed. ?oHim in his tree, let?Ts see how well he likes it up there when the Others come to take him. Hê?Tll scream for the Watch then, that he will.?
A day later Dobber spied a red glow against the evening sky. ?oEither this road went and turned again, or that sun?Ts setting in the north.?
Yoren climbed a rise to get a better look. ?oFire,? he announced. He licked a thumb and held it up. ?oWind should blow it away from us. Still bears watching.?
And watch it they did. As the world darkened, the fire seemed to grow brighter and brighter, until it looked as though the whole north was ablaze. From time to time, they could even smell the smoke, though the wind held steady and the flames never got any closer. By dawn the fire had burned itself out, but none of them slept very well that night.
It was midday when they arrived at the place where the village had been. The fields were a charred desolation for miles around, the houses blackened shells. The carcasses of burnt and butchered animals dotted the ground, under living blankets of carrion crows that rose, cawing furiously, when disturbed. Smoke still drifted from inside the holdfast. Its timber palisade looked strong from afar, but had not proved strong enough.
Riding out in front of the wagons on her horse, Arya saw burnt bodies impaled on sharpened stakes atop the walls, their hands drawn up tight in front of their faces as if to fight off the flames that had consumed them. Yoren called a halt when they were still some distance off, and told Arya and the other boys to guard the wagons while he and Murch and Cutjack went in on foot. A flock of ravens rose from inside the walls when they climbed through the broken gate, and the caged ravens in their wagons called out to them with quorks and raucous shrieks.
?oShould we go in after them?? Arya asked Gendry after Yoren and the others had been gone a long time.
?oYoren said wait.? Gendry?Ts voice sounded hollow. When Arya turned to look, she saw that he was wearing his helm, all shiny steel and great curving horns.
When they finally returned, Yoren had a little girl in his arms, and Murch and Cutjack were carrying a woman in a sling made of an old torn quilt. The girl was no older than two and she cried all the time, a whimpery sound, like something was caught in her throat. Either she couldn?Tt talk yet or she had forgotten how. The woman?Ts right arm ended in a bloody stump at her elbow, and her eyes didn?Tt seem to see anything, even when she was looking right at it. She talked, but she only said one thing. ?oPlease,? she cried, over and over. ?oPlease. Please.? Rorge thought that was funny. He laughed through the hole in his face where his nose had been, and Biter started laughing too, until Murch cursed them and told them to shut up.
Yoren had them fix the woman a place in the back of a wagon. ?oAnd be quick about it,? he said. ?oCome dark, therê?Tll be wolves here, and worse.?
?oI?Tm scared,? Hot Pie murmured when he saw the one-armed woman thrashing in the wagon.
?oMe too,? Arya confessed.
He squeezed her shoulder. ?oI never truly kicked no boy to death, Arry. I just sold my mommy?Ts pies, is all.?
Arya rode as far ahead of the wagons as she dared, so she wouldn?Tt have to hear the little girl crying or listen to the woman whisper, ?oPlease.? She remembered a story Old Nan had told once, about a man imprisoned in a dark castle by evil giants. He was very brave and smart and he tricked the giants and escaped... but no sooner was he outside the castle than the Others took him, and drank his hot red blood. Now she knew how he must have felt.
The one-armed woman died at evenfall. Gendry and Cutjack dug her grave on a hillside beneath a weeping willow. When the wind blew, Arya thought she could hear the long trailing branches whispering, ?oPlease. Please. Please.? The little hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she almost ran from the graveside.
?oNo fire tonight,? Yoren told them. Supper was a handful of wild radishes Koss found, a cup of dry beans, water from a nearby brook. The water had a funny taste to it, and Lommy told them it was the taste of bodies, rotting someplace upstream. Hot Pie would have hit him if old Reysen hadn?Tt pulled them apart.
Arya drank too much water, just to fill her belly with something. She never thought shê?Td be able to sleep, yet somehow she did. When she woke, it was pitch-black and her bladder was full to bursting. Sleepers huddled all around her, wrapped in blankets and cloaks. Arya found Needle, stood, listened. She heard the soft footfalls of a sentry, men turning in restless sleep, Rorgê?Ts rattling snores, and the queer hissing sound that Biter made when he slept. From a different wagon came the steady rhythmic scrape of steel on stone as Yoren sat, chewing sourleaf and sharpening the edge of his dirk.
Hot Pie was one of the boys on watch. ?oWhere you going?? he asked when he saw Arya heading for the trees.
Arya waved vaguely at the woods.
?oNo you?Tre not,? Hot Pie said. He had gotten bolder again now that he had a sword on his belt, even though it was just a shortsword and he handled it like a cleaver. ?oThe old man said for everyone to stay close tonight.?
?oI need to make water,? Arya explained.
?oWell, use that tree right there.? He pointed. ?oYou don?Tt know what?Ts out there, Arry. I heard wolves before.?
Yoren wouldn?Tt like it if she fought with him. She tried to look afraid. ?oWolves? For true??
?oI heard,? he assured her.
?oI don?Tt think I need to go after all.? She went back to her blanket and pretended to sleep until she heard Hot Piê?Ts footsteps going away. Then she rolled over and slipped off into the woods on the other side of the camp, quiet as a shadow. There were sentries out this way too, but Arya had no trouble avoiding them. Just to make sure, she went out twice as far as usual. When she was sure there was no one near, she skinned down her breeches and squatted to do her business.
She was making water, her clothing tangled about her ankles, when she heard rustling from under the trees. Hot Pie, she thought in panic, he followed me. Then she saw the eyes shining out from the wood, bright with reflected moonlight. Her belly clenched tight as she grabbed for Needle, not caring if she pissed herself, counting eyes, two four eight twelve, a whole pack...
One of them came padding out from under the trees. He stared at her, and bared his teeth, and all she could think was how stupid shê?Td been and how Hot Pie would gloat when they found her half-eaten body the next morning. But the wolf turned and raced back into the darkness, and quick as that the eyes were gone. Trembling, she cleaned herself and laced up and followed a distant scraping sound back to camp, and to Yoren. Arya climbed up into the wagon beside him, shaken. ?oWolves,? she whispered hoarsely. ?oIn the woods.?
?oAye. They would be.? He never looked at her.
?oThey scared me.?
?oDid they?? He spat. ?oSeems to me your kind was fond ô?T wolves.?
?oNymeria was a direwolf.? Arya hugged herself. ?oThat?Ts different. Anyhow, shê?Ts gone. Jory and I threw rocks at her until she ran off, or else the queen would have killed her.? it made her sad to talk about it. ?oI bet if shê?Td been in the city, she wouldn?Tt have let them cut off Father?Ts head.?
?oOrphan boys got no fathers,? Yoren said, ?oor did you forget that?? The sourleaf had turned his spit red, so it looked like his mouth was bleeding. ?oThe only wolves we got to fear are the ones wear manskin, like those who done for that village.?
?oI wish I was home,? she said miserably. She tried so hard to be brave, to be fierce as a wolverine and all, but sometimes she felt like she was just a little girl after all.
The black brother peeled a fresh sourleaf from the bale in the wagon and stuffed it into his mouth. ?oMight be I should of left you where I found you, boy. All of you. Safer in the city, seems to me.?
?oI don?Tt care. I want to go home.?
?oBeen bringing men to the Wall for close on thirty years.? Froth shone on Yoren?Ts lips, like bubbles of blood. ?oAll that time, I only lost three. Old man died of a fever, city boy got snakebit taking a ****, and one fool tried to kill me in my sleep and got a red smile for his trouble.? He drew the dirk across his throat, to show her. ?oThree in thirty years.? He spat out the old sourleaf. ?oA ship now, might have been wiser. No chance ô?T finding more men on the way, but still... clever man, hê?Td go by ship, but me... thirty years I been taking this kingsroad.? He sheathed his dirk. ?oGo to sleep, boy. Hear me??
She did try. Yet as she lay under her thin blanket, she could hear the wolves howling... and another sound, fainter, no more than a whisper on the wind, that might have been screams.

Chapter 10
Davos​

The morning air was dark with the smoke of burning gods.
They were all afire now, Maid and Mother, Warrior and Smith, the Crone with her pearl eyes and the Father with his gilded beard; even the Stranger, carved to look more animal than human. The old dry wood and countless layers of paint and varnish blazed with a fierce hungry light. Heat rose shimmering through the chill air; behind, the gargoyles and stone dragons on the castle walls seemed blurred, as if Davos were seeing them through a veil of tears. Or as if the beasts were trembling, stirring...
?oAn ill thing,? Allard declared, though at least he had the sense to keep his voice low. Dale muttered agreement.
?oSilence,? said Davos. ?oRemember where you are.? His sons were good men, but young, and Allard especially was rash. Had I stayed a smuggler, Allard would have ended on the Wall. Stannis spared him from that end, something else I owe him...
Hundreds had come to the castle gates to bear witness to the burning of the Seven. The smell in the air was ugly. Even for soldiers, it was hard not to feel uneasy at such an affront to the gods most had worshiped all their lives.
The red woman walked round the fire three times, praying once in the speech of Asshai, once in High Valyrian, and once in the Common Tongue. Davos understood only the last. ?oR?Thllor, come to us in our darkness,? she called. ?oLord of Light, we offer you these false gods, these seven who are one, and him the enemy. Take them and cast your light upon us, for the night is dark and full of terrors.? Queen Selyse echoed the words. Beside her, Stannis watched impassively, his jaw hard as stone under the blue-black shadow of his tight-cropped beard. He had dressed more richly than was his wont, as if for the sept.
Dragonstonê?Ts sept had been where Aegon the Conqueror knelt to pray the night before he sailed. That had not saved it from the queen?Ts men. They had overturned the altars, pulled down the statues, and smashed the stained glass with warhammers. Septon Barre could only curse them, but Ser Hubard Rambton led his three sons to the sept to defend their gods. The Rambtons had slain four of the queen?Ts men before the others overwhelmed them. Afterward Guncer Sunglass, mildest and most pious of lords, told Stannis he could no longer support his claim. Now he shared a sweltering cell with the septon and Ser Hubard?Ts two surviving sons. The other lords had not been slow to take the lesson.
The gods had never meant much to Davos the smuggler, though like most men he had been known to make offerings to the Warrior before battle, to the Smith when he launched a ship, and to the Mother whenever his wife grew great with child. He felt ill as he watched them burn, and not only from the smoke.
Maester Cressen would have stopped this. The old man had challenged the Lord of Light and been struck down for his impiety, or so the gossips told each other. Davos knew the truth. He had seen the maester slip something into the wine cup. Poison. What else could it be? He drank a cup of death to free Stannis from Melisandre, but somehow her god shielded her. He would gladly have killed the red woman for that, yet what chance would he have where a maester of the Citadel had failed? He was only a smuggler raised high, Davos of Flea Bottom, the Onion Knight.
The burning gods cast a pretty light, wreathed in their robes of shifting flame, red and orange and yellow. Septon Barre had once told Davos how they?Td been carved from the masts of the ships that had carried the first Targaryens from Valyria. Over the centuries, they had been painted and repainted, gilded, silvered, jeweled. ?oTheir beauty will make them more pleasing to R?Thllor,? Melisandre said when she told Stannis to pull them down and drag them out the castle gates.
The Maiden lay athwart the Warrior, her arms widespread as if to embrace him. The Mother seemed almost to shudder as the flames came licking up her face. A longsword had been thrust through her heart, and its leather grip was alive with flame. The Father was on the bottom, the first to fall. Davos watched the hand of the Stranger writhe and curl as the fingers blackened and fell away one by one, reduced to so much glowing charcoal. Nearby, Lord Celtigar coughed fitfully and covered his wrinkled face with a square of linen embroidered in red crabs. The Myrmen swapped jokes as they enjoyed the warmth of the fire, but young Lord Bar Emmon had turned a splotchy grey, and Lord Velaryon was watching the king rather than the conflagration.
Davos would have given much to know what he was thinking, but one such as Velaryon would never confide in him. The Lord of the Tides was of the blood of ancient Valyria, and his House had thrice provided brides for Targaryen princes; Davos Seaworth stank of fish and onions. It was the same with the other lordlings. He could trust none of them, nor would they ever include him in their private councils. They scorned his sons as well. My grandsons will joust with theirs, though, and one day their blood may wed with mine. In time my little black ship will fly as high as Velaryon?Ts seahorse or Celtigar?Ts red crabs.
That is, if Stannis won his throne. If he lost...
Everything I am, I owe to him. Stannis had raised him to knighthood. He had given him a place of honor at his table, a war galley to sail in place of a smuggler?Ts skiff. Dale and Allard captained galleys as well, Maric was oarmaster on the Fury, Matthos served his father on Black Betha, and the king had taken Devan as a royal squire. One day he would be knighted, and the two little lads as well. Marya was mistress of a small keep on Cape Wrath, with servants who called her m?Tlady, and Davos could hunt red deer in his own woods. All this he had of Stannis Baratheon, for the price of a few finger joints. It was just, what he did to me. I had flouted the king?Ts laws all my life. He has earned my loyalty. Davos touched the little pouch that hung from the leather thong about his neck. His fingers were his luck, and he needed luck now. As do we all. Lord Stannis most of all.
Pale flames licked at the grey sky. Dark smoke rose, twisting and curling. When the wind pushed it toward them, men blinked and wept and rubbed their eyes. Allard turned his head away, coughing and cursing. A taste of things to come, thought Davos. Many and more would burn before this war was done.
Melisandre was robed all in scarlet satin and blood velvet, her eyes as red as the great ruby that glistened at her throat as if it too were afire. ?oIn ancient books of Asshai it is written that there will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him.? She lifted her voice, so it carried out over the gathered host. ?oAzor Ahai, beloved of R?Thllor! The Warrior of Light, the Son of Fire! Come forth, your sword awaits you! Come forth and take it into your hand!?
Stannis Baratheon strode forward like a soldier marching into battle. His squires stepped up to attend him. Davos watched as his son Devan pulled a long padded glove over the king?Ts right hand. The boy wore a cream-colored doublet with a fiery heart sewn on the breast. Bryen Farring was similarly garbed as he tied a stiff leather cape around His Gracê?Ts neck. Behind, Davos heard a faint clank and clatter of bells. ?oUnder the sea, smoke rises in bubbles, and flames burn green and blue and black,? Patchface sang somewhere. ?oI know, I know, oh, oh, oh.?
The king plunged into the fire with his teeth clenched, holding the leather cloak before him to keep off the flames. He went straight to the Mother, grasped the sword with his gloved hand, and wrenched it free of the burning wood with a single hard jerk. Then he was retreating, the sword held high, jade-green flames swirling around cherry-red steel. Guards rushed to beat out the cinders that clung to the king?Ts clothing.
?oA sword of fire!? shouted Queen Selyse. Ser Axell Florent and the other queen?Ts men took up the cry. ?oA sword of fire! It burns! It burns! A sword of fire!?
Melisandre lifted her hands above her head. ?oBeholdl A sign was promised, and now a sign is seen! Behold Lightbringer! Azor Ahai has come again! All hail the Warrior of Light! All hail the Son of Fire!?
A ragged wave of shouts gave answer, just as Stannis?Ts glove began to smolder. Cursing, the king thrust the point of the sword into the damp earth and beat out the flames against his leg.
?oLord, cast your light upon us!? Melisandre called out.
?oFor the night is dark and full of terrors,? Selyse and her queen?Ts men replied. Should I speak the words as well? Davos wondered. Do I owe Stannis that much? Is this fiery god truly his own? His shortened fingers twitched.
Stannis peeled off the glove and let it fall to the ground. The gods in the pyre were scarcely recognizable anymore. The head fell off the Smith with a puff of ash and embers. Melisandre sang in the tongue of Asshai, her voice rising and falling like the tides of the sea. Stannis untied his singed leather cape and listened in silence. Thrust in the ground, Lightbringer still glowed ruddy hot, but the flames that clung to the sword were dwindling and dying.
By the time the song was done, only charwood remained of the gods, and the king?Ts patience had run its course. He took the queen by the elbow and escorted her back into Dragonstone, leaving Lightbringer where it stood. The red woman remained a moment to watch as Devan knelt with Byren Farring and rolled up the burnt and blackened sword in the king?Ts leather cloak. The Red Sword of Heroes looks a proper mess, thought Davos.
A few of the lords lingered to speak in quiet voices upwind of the fire. They fell silent when they saw Davos looking at them. Should Stannis fall, they will pull me down in an instant. Neither was he counted one of the queen?Ts men, that group of ambitious knights and minor lordlings who had given themselves to this Lord of Light and so won the favor and patronage of Lady-no, Queen, remember?-Selyse.
The fire had started to dwindle by the time Melisandre and the squires departed with the precious sword. Davos and his sons joined the crowd making its way down to the shore and the waiting ships. ?oDevan acquitted himself well,? he said as they went.
?oHe fetched the glove without dropping it, yes,? said Dale.
Allard nodded. ?oThat badge on Devan?Ts doublet, the fiery heart, what was that? The Baratheon sigil is a crowned stag.?
?oA lord can choose more than one badge,? Davos said.
Dale smiled. ?oA black ship and an onion, Father??
Allard kicked at a stone. ?oThe Others take our onion... and that flaming heart. It was an ill thing to burn the Seven.?
?oWhen did you grow so devout?? Davos said. ?oWhat does a smuggler?Ts son know of the doings of gods??
?oI?Tm a knight?Ts son, Father. If you won?Tt remember, why should they??
?oA knight?Ts son, but not a knight,? said Davos. ?oNor will you ever be, if you meddle in affairs that do not concern you. Stannis is our rightful king, it is not for us to question him. We sail his ships and do his bidding. That is all.?
?oAs to that, Father,? Dale said, ?oI mislike these water casks they?Tve given me for Wraith. Green pine. The water will spoil on a voyage of any length.?
?oI got the same for Lady Marya,? said Allard. ?oThe queen?Ts men have laid claim to all the seasoned wood.?
?oI will speak to the king about it,? Davos promised. Better it come from him than from Allard. His sons were good fighters and better sailors, but they did not know how to talk to lords. They were lowborn, even as I was, but they do not like to recall that. When they look at our banner, all they see is a tall black ship flying on the wind. They close their eyes to the onion.
Được Pagan sửa chữa / chuyển vào 23:18 ngày 27/11/2007