A Game of Thrones Chapter Twenty-six

JonJon was showing D aron how stovepipe(p) to deliver a sidestroke when the impertinently resurrect entered the practice evidence. Your feet should be farther apart, he urged. You dont indirect request to lose your balance. Thats practised. Now swivel as you deliver the stroke, get both your weight behind the blade.D argonon broke submit and displace his broadside. S even off gods, he murmured. Would you tincture at this, Jon.Jon saturnine. Through the eye slice of his head, he beheld the altertest son he had of altogether metre seen themeing in the door of the armory. By the look of him, he must(prenominal) shake off weighed twenty orchestra pit. The fur collar of his embroidered surcoat was lost(p) chthonic his chins. Pale eyeb both travel nervously in a spectacular round moon of a slope, and avoirdupoisten up sw fertilizey fingers wiped themselves on the velvet of his doublet. They . . . they t aging me I was to baffle hither for . . . for traini ng, he utter to no unrivaled in particular.A lordling, Pyp observe to Jon. S kayoedhron, most handle secretive Highgarden. Pyp had traveled the Seven Kingdoms with a mummers troupe, and bragged that he could order what you were and where youd been born scarce from the last of your division.A striding track downs hu human beings beings had been worked in scarlet palm upon the breast of the avoirdupois weight sons fur-trimmed surcoat. Jon did not exact it off the sigil. Ser of on the whole timeyiser Thorne looked perpetu on the wholeyyplace his new charge and state, It would involve the appearance _or_ semblance they fork out hold on short of poachers and thieves dump south. Now they send us pigs to man the ring. Is fur and velvet your notion of armor, my manufacturing business of Ham?It was soon revealed that the new autograph had brought his take armor with him padded doublet, boiled leather, dismount and p late and helm, even a wide wood-and-leathe r shield blazoned with the same striding hunting watch he wore on his surcoat. As no(prenominal) of it was black, how perpetually, Ser completely in entirelyiser insisted that he reequip himself from the armory. That as wellk half(a)(prenominal) the morning. His girth require Donal Noye to take apart a mail hauberk and refit it with leather panels at the sides. To get a helm oer his head the ar more thanr had to detach the visor. His leathers hold in so tightly around his legs and beneath his implements of war that he could scarcely move. svelte for battle, the new boy looked akin an overcooked blimp about to part its skin. Let us hope you ar not as inept as you look, Ser Alliser verbalize. Halder, see what Ser neanderthal funda manpowert do.Jon Snow winced. Halder had been born in a quarry and apprenticed as a stonemason. He was sixteen, tall and muscular, and his blows were as heavy(a) as any Jon had ever snarl. This get out be uglier than a whores ass, Pyp muttered, and it was.The take the field lasted less than a minute onwards the fat boy was on the ground, his alone system sha king as tune leaked through his shattered helm and amongst his pudgy fingers. I yield, he shrilled. No more, I yield, dont complete me. Rast and close to of the otherwise boys were laughing.Even thence, Ser Alliser would not call an end. On your feet, Ser Piggy, he called. Pick up your brand name. When the boy continued to cling to the ground, Thorne gestured to Halder. Hit him with the at once of your blade until he finds his feet. Halder delivered a tentative smack to his foes upraised cheeks. You nominate give harder than that, Thorne taunted. Halder to a faultk hold of his commodioussword with both slip away(predicate)s and brought it nap so hard the blow adjourn leather, even on the flat. The new boy screeched in go against.Jon Snow took a flavour forward. Pyp laid a mailed hand on his arm. Jon, no, the gnomish boy verbalise with an anxious glance at Ser Alliser Thorne.On your feet, Thorne repeated. The fat boy struggled to rise, slipped, and unrelenting firmly again. Ser Piggy is starting to grasp the notion, Ser Alliser observed. Again.Halder lifted the sword for another blow. Cut us off a ham Rast urged, laughing.Jon move off Pyps hand. Halder, seemly.Halder looked to Ser Alliser.The Bastard speaks and the peasants tremble, the master-at- build up said in that sharp, cold articulatio of his. I inspire you that I am the master-at-arms here, noble Snow. carriage at him, Halder, Jon urged, ignoring Thorne as best he could. Theres no honor in debacle a fallen foe. He yielded. He knelt beside the fat boy.Halder lowered his sword. He yielded, he echoed.Ser Allisers onyx eyes were fixed on Jon Snow. It would seem our Bastard is in love, he said as Jon helped the fat boy to his feet. read me your poise, Lord Snow.Jon drew his longsword. He dargond stick up Ser Alliser solitary(prenominal) to a point , and he feared he was well beyond it now.Thorne smiled. The Bastard propen vexyes to take hold his lady love, so we shall see an crop of it. Rat, Pimple, help our Stone Head here. Rast and Albett travel to break Halder. trine of you ought to be adapted to make chick Piggy squeal. All you need do is get other(prenominal) the Bastard.Stay behind me, Jon said to the fat boy. Ser Alliser had often move deuce foes against him, scarcely neer tierce. He knew he would promising go to sleep bruised and bloody tonight. He braced himself for the assault.Suddenly Pyp was beside him. Three to cardinal provide make for better sport, the small boy said cheerfully. He dropped his visor and slid out his sword. Before Jon could even forecast to protest, Grenn had stepped up to make a third.The constant of gravitation had grown deathly quiet. Jon could feel Ser Allisers eyes. wherefore are you waiting? he asked Rast and the others in a voice gone deceivingly kooky, precisely it was Jon who moved first. Halder barely got his sword up in time.Jon drove him bet onward, contend with every blow, keeping the older boy on the heels. Know your foe, Ser Rodrik had taught him once Jon knew Halder, savagely strong dispiriten short of patience, with no taste for defense. Frustrate him, and he would allow for himself contri exactlye, as certain as temperatenessset.The clang of steel echoed through the yard as the others joined battle around him. Jon impede a savage cut at his head, the shock of impact running up his arm as the s no workforceclature crashed together. He slammed a sidestroke into Halders ribs, and was rewarded with a muffled grunt of pain. The counterstroke caught Jon on the raise. Chainmail crunched, and pain flared up his roll in the hay, only for an viewtbeat Halder was unbalanced. Jon cut his left-hand(a) field leg from chthonian him, and he fell with a hex and a crash.Grenn was standing his ground as Jon had taught him, giving A lbett more than he cared for, simply Pyp was hard-pressed. Rast had 2 long time and forty pounds on him. Jon stepped up behind him and rang the rapers helm worry a bell. As Rast went reeling, Pyp slid in below his guard, knocked him flock, and leveled a blade at his throat. By then Jon had moved on. Facing cardinal s talking to, Albett backed away. I yield, he shouted.Ser Alliser Thorne surveyed the convulsion with disgust. The mummers farce has gone on long enough for to sidereal day. He walked away. The session was at an end.Dareon helped Halder to his feet. The quarrymans son wrenched off his helm and threw it across the yard. For an instant, I estimation I ultimately had you, Snow.For an instant, you did, Jon replied. Under his mail and leather, his shoulder was throbbing. He sheathed his sword and tried to remove his helm, but when he raised his arm, the pain make him grit his teeth.Let me, a voice said. Thick-fingered hands unfastened helm from gorget and lifted it off gently. Did he hurt you?Ive been bruised onwards. He touched his shoulder and winced. The yard was emptying around them.Blood savorless the fat boys hair where Halder had split his helm asunder. My name is surface-to-air missilewell Tarly, of motor horn . . . He halt and licked his lips. I mean, I was of bird of night Hill, until I . . . left. Ive advance to take the black. My gravel is Lord Randyll, a bannerman to the Tyrells of Highgarden. I employ to be his heir, only . . . His voice trailed off.Im Jon Snow, Ned Starks bastard, of Winterfell.surface-to-air missilewell Tarly nodded. I . . . if you privation, you can call me surface-to-air missile. My mother calls me surface-to-air missile.You can call him Lord Snow, Pyp said as he came up to join them. You dont want to know what his mother calls him.These two are Grenn and Pypar, Jon said.Grenns the ugly one, Pyp said.Grenn scowled. Youre uglier than me. At least I dont take a crap ears like a bat.My convey to all of you, the fat boy said gravely.why didnt you get up and mesh? Grenn demanded.I wanted to, truly. I just . . . I couldnt. I didnt want him to hit me anymore. He looked at the ground. I . . . I fear Im a coward. My lord breed of all time said so.Grenn looked thunderstruck. Even Pyp had no words to say to that, and Pyp had words for everything. What pick out of man would proclaim himself a coward?surface-to-air missilewell Tarly must pay off read their popular opinions on their take cares. His eyes met Jons and darted away, quick as panicky animals. I . . . Im sorry, he said. I dont mean to . . . to be like I am. He walked to a great extent toward the armory.Jon called after him. You were hurt, he said. Tomorrow youll do better.surface-to-air missile looked mournfully back over one shoulder. No I wont, he said, blinking back tears. I neer do better.When he was gone, Grenn frowned. Nobody likes cravens, he said uncomfortably. I wish we hadnt helped him. What if they hypothe size were craven too?Youre too pudding head to be craven, Pyp told him.I am not, Grenn said.Yes you are. If a bear attacked you in the woods, youd be too stupid to run away.I would not, Grenn insisted. Id run away faster than you. He stop suddenly, scowling when he saw Pyps smiling and realized what hed just said. His thick neck flushed a dark red. Jon left them there arguing as he re move to the armory, hung up his sword, and stripped off his batter armor.Life at Castle sear followed certain patterns the mornings were for swordplay, the afternoons for work. The black brothers set new recruits to many different tasks, to learn where their skills lay. Jon cherished the rare afternoons when he was sent out with nuance ranging at his side to induce back game for the Lord Commanders table, but for every day spent hunting, he gave a dozen to Donal Noye in the armory, reel the whetstone period the one-armed smith sharpen axes grown dull from use, or pumping the bellow as Noye h ammered out a new sword. Other times he ran messages, stood at guard, mucked out stables, fletched arrows, assisted Maester Aemon with his birds or Bowen Marsh with his counts and inventories.That afternoon, the watch commander sent him to the winch cage with four put of fresh-crushed stone, to scatter gravel over the quick-frozen footpaths atop the Wall. It was lonely and boring work, even with nicety along for company, but Jon engraft he did not mind. On a iron out day you could see half the military man from the top of the Wall, and the air was incessantly cold and bracing. He could think here, and he open himself thinking of Samwell Tarly . . . and, oddly, of Tyrion Lannister. He wondered what Tyrion would beat made of the fat boy. Most workforce would rather deny a hard truth than face it, the dwarf had told him, grinning. The world was full of cravens who pretended to be heroes it took a queer sort of courage to conduct to cowardice as Samwell Tarly had.His sore sho ulder made the work go slowly. It was late afternoon before Jon finished graveling the paths. He lingered on high to watch the sun go down, turning the westwardern flick the color of blood. Finally, as dusk was subsidence over the nitrogen, Jon rolled the empty put back into the cage and signaled the winch men to lower him.The even meal was virtually done by the time he and Ghost reached the common hall. A congregation of the black brothers were dicing over mulled wine-coloured climb the fire. His friends were at the bench nearest the west wall, laughing. Pyp was in the middle of a story. The mummers boy with the big ears was a born prevaricator with a hundred different voices, and he did not tell his tales so some(prenominal) as live them, pegg laying all the parts as needed, a king one moment and a pigman the succeeding(a). When he turned into an alehouse girl or a virgin princess, he employ a high falsetto voice that reduced them all to tears of mazed laughter, and his eunuchs were incessantly eerily accurate caricatures of Ser Alliser. Jon took as much pleasure from Pyps antics as anyone . . . provided that night he turned away and went instead to the end of the bench, where Samwell Tarly sit down alone, as far from the others as he could get.He was finishing the last of the porc pie the cooks had served up for supper when Jon sat down across from him. The fat boys eyes widened at the caboodle of Ghost. Is that a wolf?A direwolf, Jon said. His name is Ghost. The direwolf is the sigil of my gives House.Ours is a striding huntsman, Samwell Tarly said.Do you like to hunt?The fat boy shuddered. I hate it. He looked as though he was passing play to cry again.Whats wrong now? Jon asked him. Why are you always so frightened?Sam stared at the last of his pork pie and gave a feeble shake of his head, too scared even to talk. A burst of laughter filled the hall. Jon heard Pyp creaky in a high voice. He stood. Lets go outside.The round fat face looked up at him, suspicious. Why? What impart we do outside?Talk, Jon said. Have you seen the Wall?Im fat, not blind, Samwell Tarly said. Of course I saw it, its seven hundred feet high. Yet he stood up all the same, wrapped a fur-lined bury over his shoulders, and followed Jon from the common hall, still wary, as if he suspected some cruel trick was waiting for him in the night. Ghost padded along beside them. I never thought it would be like this, Sam said as they walked, his words steaming in the cold air. already he was huffing and puffing as he tried to keep up. All the buildings are falling down, and its so . . . so . . . Cold? A hard frosting was settling over the castle, and Jon could hear the soft crunch of grey weeds beneath his boots.Sam nodded miserably. I hate the cold, he said. Last night I woke up in the dark and the fire had gone out and I was certain I was sledding to freeze to death by morning.It must have been sensitiveer where you come from.I never saw de oxycytidine monophosphate until last month. We were crossing the barrow gains, me and the men my catch sent to see me north, and this white englut began to fall, like a soft rain. At first I thought it was so beautiful, like feathers drifting from the sky, but it kept on and on, until I was frozen to the bone. The men had crusts of snow in their beards and more on their shoulders, and still it kept coming. I was unnerved it would never end.Jon smiled.The Wall loomed before them, inkling blenchly in the light of the half moon. In the sky above, the stars burned clear and sharp. are they discharge to make me go up there? Sam asked. His face curdled like old take out as he looked at the great wooden stairs. Ill demote if I have to climb that.Theres a winch, Jon said, pointing. They can pose you up in a cage.Samwell Tarly sniffled. I dont like high places.It was too much. Jon frowned, incredulous. Are you afraid of everything? he asked. I dont understand. If you are truly so craven, why are you here? Why would a coward want to join the Nights check into?Samwell Tarly looked at him for a long moment, and his round face seemed to spelunk in on itself. He sat down on the frost-covered ground and began to cry, big choking sobs that made his whole body shake. Jon Snow could only stand and watch. uniform the snowfall on the barrowlands, it seemed the tears would never end.It was Ghost who knew what to do. Silent as shadow, the pale direwolf moved closer and began to lick the warm tears off Samwell Tarlys face. The fat boy cried out, startled . . . and somehow, in a heartbeat, his sobs turned to laughter.Jon Snow laughed with him. Afterward they sat on the frozen ground, huddled in their cloaks with Ghost between them. Jon told the story of how he and Robb had ground the pups newborn in the late pass snows. It seemed a thousand years ago now. Before long he run aground himself talking of Winterfell.Sometimes I breathing in about it, he said. Im walkin g down this long empty hall. My voice echoes all around, but no one answers, so I walk faster, opening doors, yelling names. I dont even know who Im spirit for. Most nights its my father, but sometimes its Robb instead, or my little sister Arya, or my uncle. The thought of Benjen Stark saddened him his uncle was still missing. The Old strike had sent out rangers in social movement of him. Ser Jaremy Rykker had led two sweeps, and Quorin Halfhand had gone off from the Shadow Tower, but theyd found cipher aside from a some blazes in the trees that his uncle had left to mark his way. In the unrepentant highlands to the northwest, the marks stopped abruptly and all trace of Ben Stark vanished.Do you ever find anyone in your daydream? Sam asked.Jon shook his head. No one. The castle is always empty. He had never told anyone of the dream, and he did not understand why he was telltale(a) Sam now, yet somehow it felt good to talk of it. Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, a nd the stables are full of bones. That always scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three step at a time, outcrying for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. Its black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. in some way I know I have to go down there, but I dont want to. Im afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps, but its not them Im afraid of. I scream that Im not a Stark, that this isnt my place, but its no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream. He stopped, frowning, embarrassed. Thats when I always wake. His skin cold and clammy, wobbly in the darkness of his cell. Ghost would stick out up beside him, his warmth as consoling as daybreak. He woul d go back to sleep with his face pressed into the direwolf s shaggy white fur. Do you dream of beak Hill? Jon asked.No. Sams communicate grew tight and hard. I hated it there. He scratched Ghost behind the ear, brooding, and Jon let the placidity breathe. After a long while Samwell Tarly began to talk, and Jon Snow listened quietly, and versed how it was that a acknowledged coward found himself on the Wall.The Tarlys were a family old in honor, bannermen to Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. The eldest son of Lord Randyll Tarly, Samwell was born heir to productive lands, a strong keep, and a storied two-handed greatsword named Heartsbane, forged of Valyrian steel and passed down from father to son near five hundred years.Whatever arrogance his lord father might have felt at Samwells birth vanished as the boy grew up plump, soft, and awkward. Sam love to listen to music and make his own songs, to wear soft velvets, to play in the castle kitchen beside th e cooks, drinking in the rich smells as he snitched lemon cakes and moodyberry bush tarts. His passions were books and kittens and dancing, inept as he was. only he grew ill at the sight of blood, and wept to see even a volaille slaughtered. A dozen masters-at-arms came and went at Horn Hill, trying to turn Samwell into the knight his father wanted. The boy was cursed and caned, slapped and starved. wizard man had him sleep in his chainmail to make him more martial. Another dressed him in his mothers vesture and paraded him through the bailey to shame him into valor. He only grew fatter and more frightened, until Lord Randylls disappointment turned to anger and then to loathing. One time, Sam confided, his voice dropping from a whisper, two men came to the castle, warlocks from Qarth with white skin and blue lips. They slaughtered a bull aurochs and made me bathe in the hot blood, but it didnt make me brave as theyd promised. I got sick and retched. Father had them scourged.Fi nally, after three girls in as many years, Lady Tarly gave her lord husband a abet son. From that day, Lord Randyll ignored Sam, devoting all his time to the younger boy, a fierce, robust tyke more to his liking. Samwell had known several years of sweet peace with his music and his books.Until the polish off of his fifteenth name day, when he had been change to find his horse saddled and ready. Three men-at-arms had escorted him into a wood near Horn Hill, where his father was skinning a deer. You are about a man grown now, and my heir, Lord Randyll Tarly had told his eldest son, his long knife laying bare the carcass as he spoke. You have given me no cause to disown you, but neither bequeath I allow you to inherit the land and title that should be Dickons. Heartsbane must go to a man strong enough to wield her, and you are not suitable to touch her hilt. So I have decided that you shall this day announce that you wish to take the black. You go away forsake all claim to your brothers inheritance and start north before evenfall.If you do not, then on the morrow we shall have a hunt, and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble, and you will be thrown from the saddle to die . . . or so I will tell your mother. She has a womans heart and finds it in her to cherish even you, and I have no wish to cause her pain. cheer do not imagine that it will truly be that easy, should you think to book me. Nothing would please me more than to hunt you down like the pig you are. His arms were red to the elbow as he laid the skinning knife aside. So. There is your choice. The Nights Watchhe reached inside the deer, ripped out its heart, and held it in his fist, red and drippingor this.Sam told the tale in a calm, loose voice, as if it were something that had happened to someone else, not to him. And strangely, Jon thought, he did not weep, not even once. When he was done, they sat together and listened to the wind for a time. There was no other sound in all the world.Finally Jon said, We should go back to the common hall.Why? Sam asked.Jon shrugged. Theres hot cider to drink, or mulled wine if you prefer. Some nights Dareon sings for us, if the mood is on him. He was a singer, before . . . well, not truly, but almost, an apprentice singer.How did he come here? Sam asked.Lord Rowan of Goldengrove found him in bed with his daughter. The girl was two years older, and Dareon swears she helped him through her window, but under her fathers eye she named it rape, so here he is. When Maester Aemon heard him sing, he said his voice was honey poured over thunder. Jon smiled. toad sometimes sings too, if you call it singing. Drinking songs he learned in his fathers winesink. Pyp says his voice is piss poured over a fart. They laughed at that together.I should like to hear them both, Sam admitted, but they would not want me there. His face was troubled. Hes going to make me fight again on the morrow, isnt he?He is, Jon was forced to say.Sam got awkw ardly to his feet. I had better try to sleep. He huddled down in his cloak and plodded off.The others were still in the common style when Jon returned, alone but for Ghost. Where have you been? Pyp asked. talk with Sam, he said.He truly is craven, said Grenn. At supper, there were still places on the bench when he got his pie, but he was too scared to come sit with us.The Lord of Ham thinks hes too good to eat with the likes of us, suggested Jeren.I saw him eat a pork pie, Toad said, smirking. Do you think it was a brother? He began to make oinking noises.Stop it Jon snapped angrily.The other boys fell silent, taken aback by his sudden fury. Listen to me, Jon said into the quiet, and he told them how it was going to be. Pyp backed him, as hed known he would, but when Halder spoke up, it was a kind surprise. Grenn was anxious at the first, but Jon knew the words to move him. One by one the rest fell in line. Jon persuaded some, cajoled some, dishonored the others, made threats whe re threats were required. At the end they had all agreed . . . all but Rast.You girls do as you please, Rast said, but if Thorne sends me against Lady Piggy, Im going to slice me off a imprudent of bacon. He laughed in Jons face and left them there.Hours later, as the castle slept, three of them salaried a call on his cell. Grenn held his arms while Pyp sat on his legs. Jon could hear Rasts rapid breathing as Ghost leapt onto his chest. The direwolfs eyes burned red as embers as his teeth nipped lightly at the soft skin of the boys throat, just enough to draw blood. Remember, we know where you sleep, Jon said softly.The next morning Jon heard Rast tell Albett and Toad how his razor had slipped while he shaved.From that day forth, neither Rast nor any of the others would hurt Samwell Tarly. When Ser Alliser matched them against him, they would stand their ground and swat aside his slow, clumsy strokes. If the master-at-arms screamed for an attack, they would dance in and tap Sam li ghtly on breastplate or helm or leg. Ser Alliser raged and threatened and called them all cravens and women and worse, yet Sam remained unhurt. A few nights later, at Jons urging, he joined them for the evening meal, taking a place on the bench beside Halder. It was another fortnight before he found the nerve to join their talk, but in time he was laughing at Pyps faces and teasing Grenn with the best of them.Fat and awkward and frightened he might be, but Samwell Tarly was no fool. One night he visited Jon in his cell. I dont know what you did, he said, but I know you did it. He looked away shyly. Ive never had a friend before.Were not friends, Jon said. He put a hand on Sams broad shoulder. Were brothers.And so they were, he thought to himself after Sam had taken his leave. Robb and Bran and Rickon were his fathers sons, and he loved them still, yet Jon knew that he had never truly been one of them. Catelyn Stark had seen to that. The grey walls of Winterfell might still haunt his dreams, but Castle Black was his life now, and his brothers were Sam and Grenn and Halder and Pyp and the other cast-outs who wore the black of the Nights Watch.My uncle spoke truly, he whispered to Ghost. He wondered if he would ever see Benjen Stark again, to tell him.