The Song Of Ice and Fire (114 page)

Scattered lights flickered through the trees ahead of him, on both sides of the road: Mole’s Town. A dog barked as he rode through, and he heard a mule’s raucous
haw
from the stable, but otherwise the village was still. Here and there the glow of hearth fires shone through shuttered windows, leaking between wooden slats, but only a few.

Mole’s Town was bigger than it seemed, but three quarters of it was under the ground, in deep warm cellars connected by a maze of tunnels. Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, he’d heard men call the whores “buried treasures.” He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care.

Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too.
I am doing the right thing
, he told himself,
so why do I feel so bad?

The horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her for a while. The road was scarcely wide
enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface cut by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a broken neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die?

Off in the trees, the distant scream of some frightened animal made him look up. His mare whinnied nervously. Had his wolf found some prey? He cupped his hands around his mouth. “
Ghost!
” he shouted. “Ghost, to me.” The only answer was a rush of wings behind him as an owl took flight.

Frowning, Jon continued on his way. He led the mare for half an hour, until she was dry. Ghost did not appear. Jon wanted to mount up and ride again, but he was concerned about his missing wolf. “
Ghost,
” he called again. “Where are you? To me!
Ghost!
” Nothing in these woods could trouble a direwolf, even a half-grown direwolf, unless … no, Ghost was too smart to attack a bear, and if there was a wolf pack anywhere close Jon would have surely heard them howling.

He should eat, he decided. Food would settle his stomach and give Ghost the chance to catch up. There was no danger yet; Castle Black still slept. In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. He’d brought salt beef as well, and a rasher of bacon he’d filched from the kitchens, but he would save the meat for the morrow. After it was gone he’d need to hunt, and that would slow him.

Jon sat under the trees and ate his biscuit and cheese while his mare grazed along the kingsroad. He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north. Quickly Jon leapt up and strode to his mare. Could he outrun them? No, they were too close, they’d hear him for a certainty, and if they were from Castle Black …

He led the mare off the road, behind a thick stand of grey-green sentinels. “Quiet now,” he said in a hushed voice, crouching down to peer through the branches. If the gods were kind, the riders would pass by. Likely as not, they were only smallfolk from Mole’s Town, farmers on their way to their fields, although what they were doing out in the middle of the night …

He listened to the sound of hooves growing steadily louder as they trotted briskly down the kingsroad. From the sound, there were five or six of them at the least. Their voices drifted through the trees.

“… certain he came this way?”

“We
can’t
be certain.”

“He could have ridden east, for all you know. Or left the road to cut through the woods. That’s what I’d do.”

“In the dark? Stupid. If you didn’t fall off your horse and break your neck, you’d get lost and wind up back at the Wall when the sun came up.”

“I would not.” Grenn sounded peeved. “I’d just ride south, you can tell south by the stars.”

“What if the sky was cloudy?” Pyp asked.

“Then I wouldn’t go.”

Another voice broke in. “You know where
I’d
be if it was me? I’d be in Mole’s Town, digging for buried treasure.” Toad’s shrill laughter boomed through the trees. Jon’s mare snorted.

“Keep quiet, all of you,” Halder said. “I thought I heard something.”

“Where? I didn’t hear anything.” The horses stopped.

“
You
can’t hear yourself fart.”

“I can too,” Grenn insisted.

“
Quiet!
”

They all fell silent, listening. Jon found himself holding his breath.
Sam
, he thought. He hadn’t gone to the Old Bear, but he hadn’t gone to bed either, he’d woken the other boys. Damn them all. Come dawn, if they were not in their beds, they’d be named deserters too. What did they think they were doing?

The hushed silence seemed to stretch on and on. From where Jon crouched, he could see the legs of their horses through the branches. Finally Pyp spoke up. “What did you hear?”

“I don’t know,” Halder admitted. “A sound, I thought it might have been a horse but …”

“There’s nothing here.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed a pale shape moving through the trees. Leaves rustled, and Ghost came bounding out of the shadows, so suddenly that Jon’s mare started and gave a whinny. “
There!
” Halder shouted.

“I heard it too!”

“Traitor,” Jon told the direwolf as he swung up into the saddle. He turned the mare’s head to slide off through the trees, but they were on him before he had gone ten feet.

“
Jon!
” Pyp shouted after him.

“Pull up,” Grenn said. “You can’t outrun us all.”

Jon wheeled around to face them, drawing his sword. “Get back. I don’t wish to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

“One against seven?” Halder gave a signal. The boys spread out, surrounding him.

“What do you want with me?” Jon demanded.

“We want to take you back where you belong,” Pyp said.

“I belong with my brother.”

“
We’re
your brothers now,” Grenn said.

“They’ll cut off your head if they catch you, you know,” Toad put in with a nervous laugh. “This is so stupid, it’s like something the Aurochs would do.”

“I would not,” Grenn said. “I’m no oathbreaker. I said the words and I meant them.”

“So did I,” Jon told them. “Don’t you understand? They murdered my
father
. It’s war, my brother Robb is fighting in the riverlands—”

“We know,” said Pyp solemnly. “Sam told us everything.”

“We’re sorry about your father,” Grenn said, “but it doesn’t matter. Once you say the words, you can’t leave, no matter what.”

“I
have
to,” Jon said fervently.

“You said the words,” Pyp reminded him. “
Now my watch begins
, you said it.
It shall not end until my death.
”

“
I shall live and die at my post,
” Grenn added, nodding.

“You don’t have to tell me the words, I know them as well as you do.” He was angry now. Why couldn’t they let him go in peace? They were only making it harder.

“
I am the sword in the darkness,
” Halder intoned.

“
The watcher on the walls,
” piped Toad.

Jon cursed them all to their faces. They took no notice. Pyp spurred his horse closer, reciting, “
I am the fire that
burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.
”

“Stay back,” Jon warned him, brandishing his sword. “I mean it, Pyp.” They weren’t even wearing armor, he could cut them to pieces if he had to.

Matthar had circled behind him. He joined the chorus. “
I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch.
”

Jon kicked his mare, spinning her in a circle. The boys were all around him now, closing from every side.

“
For this night …,
” Halder trotted in from the left.

“… 
and all the nights to come,
” finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon’s reins. “So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me.”

Jon lifted his sword … and lowered it, helpless. “Damn you,” he said. “Damn you all.”

“Do we have to bind your hands, or will you give us your word you’ll ride back peaceful?” asked Halder.

“I won’t run, if that’s what you mean.” Ghost moved out from under the trees and Jon glared at him. “Small help you were,” he said. The deep red eyes looked at him knowingly.

“We had best hurry,” Pyp said. “If we’re not back before first light, the Old Bear will have
all
our heads.”

Of the ride back, Jon Snow remembered little. It seemed shorter than the journey south, perhaps because his mind was elsewhere. Pyp set the pace, galloping, walking, trotting, and then breaking into another gallop. Mole’s Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. They made good time. Dawn was still an hour off when Jon glimpsed the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time.

They could take him back, Jon told himself, but they could not make him stay. The war would not end on the morrow, or the day after, and his friends could not watch him day and night. He would bide his time, make them think he was content to remain here … and then, when they had grown lax, he would be off again. Next time he would avoid the kingsroad. He could follow the Wall east, perhaps all the way to the sea, a longer route but a safer one. Or even west, to the mountains, and then south over the high passes. That was the wildling’s way, hard and
perilous, but at least no one would follow him. He wouldn’t stray within a hundred leagues of Winterfell or the kingsroad.

Samwell Tarly awaited them in the old stables, slumped on the ground against a bale of hay, too anxious to sleep. He rose and brushed himself off. “I … I’m glad they found you, Jon.”

“I’m not,” Jon said, dismounting.

Pyp hopped off his horse and looked at the lightening sky with disgust. “Give us a hand bedding down the horses, Sam,” the small boy said. “We have a long day before us, and no sleep to face it on, thanks to Lord Snow.”

When day broke, Jon walked to the kitchens as he did every dawn. Three-Finger Hobb said nothing as he gave him the Old Bear’s breakfast. Today it was three brown eggs boiled hard, with fried bread and ham steak and a bowl of wrinkled plums. Jon carried the food back to the King’s Tower. He found Mormont at the window seat, writing. His raven was walking back and forth across his shoulders, muttering, “
Corn, corn, corn.
” The bird shrieked when Jon entered. “Put the food on the table,” the Old Bear said, glancing up. “I’ll have some beer.”

Jon opened a shuttered window, took the flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon in his beer every day, and claimed that was why he still had his own teeth.

“Doubtless you loved your father,” Mormont said when Jon brought him his horn. “The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember when I told you that?”

“I remember,” Jon said sullenly. He did not care to talk of his father’s death, not even to Mormont.

“See that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight. Fetch me my plate. Is it ham again? So be it. You look weary. Was your moonlight ride so tiring?”

Jon’s throat was dry. “You know?”

“
Know,
” the raven echoed from Mormont’s shoulder. “
Know.
”

The Old Bear snorted. “Do you think they chose me
Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch because I’m dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you’d go. I told him you’d be back. I know my men … and my
boys
too. Honor set you on the kingsroad … and honor brought you back.”

“My friends brought me back,” Jon said.

“Did I say it was
your
honor?” Mormont inspected his plate.

“They killed my father. Did you expect me to do nothing?”

“If truth be told, we expected you to do just as you did.” Mormont tried a plum, spit out the pit. “I ordered a watch kept over you. You were seen leaving. If your brothers had not fetched you back, you would have been taken along the way, and not by friends. Unless you have a horse with wings like a raven. Do you?”

“No.” Jon felt like a fool.

“Pity, we could use a horse like that.”

Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. “I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I’m not afraid to die.”

“
Die!
” the raven cried.

“Nor live, I hope,” Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. “You have not deserted—yet. Here you stand. If we beheaded every boy who rode to Mole’s Town in the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. Yet maybe you mean to flee again on the morrow, or a fortnight from now. Is that it? Is that your hope, boy?”

Jon kept silent.

“I thought so.” Mormont peeled the shell off a boiled egg. “Your father is dead, lad. Do you think you can bring him back?”

“No,” he answered, sullen.

“Good,” Mormont said. “We’ve seen the dead come back, you and me, and it’s not something I care to see again.” He ate the egg in two bites and flicked a bit of shell out from between his teeth. “Your brother is in the field with all the power of the north behind him. Any one of his lords bannermen commands more swords than you’ll find in all the Night’s Watch. Why do you imagine that they need
your
help? Are you such a mighty warrior,
or do you carry a grumkin in your pocket to magic up your sword?”