grrm.astormofswords-第131部分

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hey'd　given　him；　gritting　his　teeth　at　the　pain　in　his　leg；　and　rode　hard　for　the　north。
　As　the　stars　began　to　fade　in　the　eastern　sky；　the　Wall　appeared　before　him；　rising　above　the　trees　and　the　morning　mists。　Moonlight　glimmered　pale　against　the　ice。　He　urged　the　gelding　on；　following　the　muddy　slick　road　until　he　saw　the　stone　towers　and　timbered　halls　of　Castle　Black　huddled　like　broken　toys　beneath　the　great　cliff　of　ice。　By　then　the　Wall　glowed　pink　and　purple　with　the　first　light　of　dawn。
　No　sentries　challenged　him　as　he　rode　past　the　outbuildings。　No　one　came　forth　to　bar　his　way。　Castle　Black　seemed　as　much　a　ruin　as　Greyguard。　Brown　brittle　weeds　grew　between　cracks　in　the　stones　of　the　courtyards。　Old　snow　covered　the　roof　of　the　Flint　Barracks　and　lay　in　drifts　against　the　north　side　of　Hardin's　Tower；　where　Jon　used　to　sleep　before　being　made　the　Old　Bear's　steward。　Fingers　of　soot　streaked　the　Lord　mander's　Tower　where　the　smoke　had　boiled　from　the　windows。　Mormont　had　moved　to　the　King's　Tower　after　the　fire；　but　Jon　saw　no　lights　there　either。　From　the　ground　he　could　not　tell　if　there　were　sentries　walking　the　Wall　seven　hundred　feet　above；　but　he　saw　no　one　on　the　huge　switchback　stair　that　climbed　the　south　face　of　the　ice　like　some　great　wooden　thunderbolt。
　There　was　smoke　rising　from　the　chimney　of　the　armory；　though；　only　a　wisp；　almost　invisible　against　the　grey　northern　sky；　but　it　was　enough。　Jon　dismounted　and　limped　toward　it。　Warmth　poured　out　the　open　door　like　the　hot　breath　of　summer。　Within；　one…armed　Donal　Noye　was　working　his　bellows　at　the　fire。　He　looked　up　at　the　noise。　〃Jon　Snow？〃
　〃None　else。〃　Despite　fever；　exhaustion；　his　leg；　the　Magnar；　the　old　man；　Ygritte；　Mance；　despite　it　all；　Jon　smiled。　It　was　good　to　be　back；　good　to　see　Noye　with　his　big　belly　and　pinned…up　sleeve；　his　jaw　bristling　with　black　stubble。
　The　smith　released　his　grip　on　the　bellows。　〃Your　face　。　。　。
　He　had　almost　forgotten　about　his　face。　〃A　skinchanger　tried　to　rip　out　my　eye。〃
　Noye　frowned。　〃Scarred　or　smooth；　it's　a　face　I　thought　I'd　seen　the　last　of。　We　heard　you'd　gone　over　to　Mance　Raydar。〃
　Jon　grasped　the　door　to　stay　upright。　〃Who　told　you　that？〃
　〃Jarman　Buckwell。　He　returned　a　fortnight　past。　His　scouts　claim　they　saw　you　with　their　own　eyes；　riding　along　beside　the　wildling　column　and　wearing　a　sheepskin　cloak。〃　Noye　eyed　him。　〃I　see　the　last　part's　true。〃
　〃It's　all　true；〃　Jon　confessed。　〃As　far　as　it　goes。〃
　〃Should　I　be　pulling　down　a　sword　to　gut　you；　then？〃
　〃No。　I　was　acting　on　orders。　Qhorin　Halfhand's　last　mand。　Noye；　where　is　the　garrison？〃
　〃Defending　the　Wall　against　your　wildling　friends。〃
　〃Yes；　but　where？〃
　〃Everywhere。　Harma　Dogshead　was　seen　at　Woodswatch…by…the…Pool；　Rattleshirt　at　Long　Barrow；　the　Weeper　near　Icemark。　All　along　the　Wall　。　。　。　they're　here；　they're　there；　they're　climbing　near　Queensgate；　they're　hacking　at　the　gates　of　Greyguard；　they're　massing　against　Eastwatch　。　。　。　but　one　glimpse　of　a　black　cloak　and　they're　gone。　Next　day　they're　somewhere　else。〃
　Jon　swallowed　a　groan。　〃Feints。　Mance　wants　us　to　spread　ourselves　thin；　don't　you　see？〃　And　Bowen　Marsh　has　obliged　him。　〃The　gate　is　here。　The　attack　is　here。〃
　Noye　crossed　the　room。　〃Your　leg　is　drenched　in　blood。〃
　Jon　looked　down　dully。　It　was　true。　His　wound　had　opened　again。　〃An　arrow　wound　。　。　。〃
　〃A　wildling　arrow。〃　It　was　not　a　question。　Noye　had　only　one　arm；　but　that　was　thick　with　muscle。　He　slid　it　under　Jon's　to　help　support　him。　〃You're　white　as　milk；　and　burning　hot　besides。　I'm　taking　you　to　Aemon。〃
　〃There's　no　time。　There　are　wildlings　south　of　the　Wall；　ing　up　from　Queenscrown　to　open　the　gate。〃
　〃How　many？〃　Noye　half…carried　Jon　out　the　door。
　〃A　hundred　and　twenty；　and　well　armed　for　wildlings。　Bronze　armor；　some　bits　of　steel。　How　many　men　are　left　here？〃
　〃Forty　odd；〃　said　Donal　Noye。　〃The　crippled　and　infirm；　and　some　green　boys　still　in　training。〃
　〃If　Marsh　is　gone；　who　did　he　name　as　castellan？〃
　The　armorer　laughed。　〃Ser　Wynton；　gods　preserve　him。　Last　knight　in　the　castle　and　all。　The　thing　is；　Stout　seems　to　have　forgotten　and　no　one's　been　rushing　to　remind　him。　I　suppose　I'm　as　much　a　mander　as　we　have　now。　The　meanest　of　the　cripples。〃
　That　was　for　the　good；　at　least。　The　one…armed　armorer　was　hard　headed；　tough；　and　well　seasoned　in　war。　Ser　Wynton　Stout；　on　the　other　hand　。　。　。　well；　he　had　been　a　good　man　once；　everyone　agreed；　but　he　had　been　eighty　years　a　ranger；　and　both　strength　and　wits　were　gone。　Once　he'd　fallen　asleep　at　supper　and　almost　drowned　in　a　bowl　of　pea　soup。
　〃Where's　your　wolf？〃　Noye　asked　as　they　crossed　the　yard。
　〃Ghost。　I　had　to　leave　him　when　I　climbed　the　Wall。　I'd　hoped　he'd　make　his　way　back　here。〃
　〃I'm　sorry；　lad。　There's　been　no　sign　of　him。〃　They　limped　up　to　the　maester's　door；　in　the　long　wooden　keep　beneath　the　rookery。　The　armorer　gave　it　a　kick。　〃Glydas！〃
　After　a　moment　a　stooped；　round…shouldered　little　man　in　black　peered　out。　His　small　pink　eyes　widened　at　the　sight　of　Jon。　〃Lay　the　lad　down；　I'll　fetch　the　maester。〃
　A　fire　was　burning　in　the　hearth；　and　the　room　was　almost　stuffy。　The　warmth　made　Jon　sleepy。　As　soon　as　Noye　eased　him　down　onto　his　back；　he　closed　his　eyes　to　stop　the　world　from　spinning。　He　could　hear　the　ravens　quorking　and　plaining　in　the　rookery　above。　〃Snow；〃　one　bird　was　saying。　〃Snow；　snow；　snow。〃　That　was　Sam's　doing；　Jon　remembered。　Had　Samwell　Tarly　made　it　home　safely；　he　wondered；　or　only　the　birds？
　Maester　Aemon　was　not　long　in　ing。　He　moved　slowly；　one　spotted　hand　on　Clydas's　arm　as　he　shuffled　forward　with　small　careful　steps。　Around　his　thin　neck　his　chain　hung　heavy；　gold　and　silver　links　glinting　amongst　iron；　lead；　tin；　and　other　base　metals。　〃Jon　Snow；〃　he　said；　〃you　must　tell　me　all　you've　seen　and　done　when　you　are　stronger。　Donal；　put　a　kettle　of　wine　on　the　fire；　and　my　irons　as　well。　I　will　want　them　red…hot。　Clydas；　I　shall　need　that　good　sharp　knife　of　yours。〃　The　maester　was　more　than　a　hundred　years　old；　shrunken；　frail；　hairless；　and　quite　blind。　But　if　his　milky　eyes　saw　nothing；　his　wits　were　still　as　sharp　as　they　had　ever　been。
　〃There　are　wildlings　ing；〃　Jon　told　him；　as　Clydas　ran　a　blade　up　the　leg　of　his　breeches；　slicing　the　heavy　black　cloth；　crusty　with　old　blood　and　sodden　with　new。　〃From　the　south。　We　climbed　the　Wall　。　。　。〃
　Maester　Aemon　gave　Jon's　crude　bandage　a　sniff　when　Clydas　cut　it　away。　〃We？〃
　〃I　was　with　them。　Qhorin　Halfhand　manded　me　to　join　them。〃　Jon　winced　as　the　maester's　finger　explored　his　wound；　poking　and　prodding。　〃The　Magnar　of　Therm…aaaaah；　that　hurts。〃　He　clenched　his　teeth。　〃Where　is　the　Old　Bear？〃
　〃Jon　。　。　。　it　grieves　me　to　say；　but　Lord　mander　Mormont　was　murdered　at　Craster's　Keep；　at　the　hands　of　his　Sworn　Brothers。〃
　〃Bro　。　。　。　our　own　men？〃　Aemon's　words　hurt　a　hundred　times　worse　than　his　fingers。　Jon　remembered　the　Old　Bear　as　last　he'd　seen　him；　standing　before　his　tent　with　his　raven　on　his　arm　croaking　for　corn。　Mormont　gone？　He　had　feared　it　ever　since　he'd　seen　the　aftermath　of　battle　on　the　Fist；　yet　it　was　no　less　a　blow。　〃Who　was　it？　Who　turned　on　him？〃
　〃Garth　of　Oldtown；　Ollo　Lophand；　Dirk　。　。　。　thieves；　cowards　and　killers；　the　lot　of　them。　We　should　have　seen　it　ing。　The　Watch　is　not　what　it　was。　Too　few　honest　men　to　keep　the　rogues　in　line。〃　Donal　Noye　turned　the　maester's　blades　in　the　fire。　〃A　dozen　true　men　made　it　back。　Dolorous　Edd；　Giant；　your　friend　the　Aurochs。　We　had　the　tale　from　them。〃
　Only　a　dozen？　Two　hundred　men　had　left　Castle　Black　with　Lord　mander　Mormont；　two　hundred　of　the　Watch's　best。　〃Does　this　mean　Marsh　is　Lord　mander；　then？〃　The　Old　Pomegranate　was　amiable；　and　a　diligent　First　Steward；　but　he　was　woefully　ill…suited　to　face　a　wildling　host。
　〃For　the　nonce；　until　we　can　hold　a　choosing；〃　said　Maester　Aemon。　〃Clydas；　bring　me　the　flask。〃
　A　choosing。　With　Qhorin　Halfhand　and　Ser　Jaremy　Rykker　both　dead　and　Ben　Stark　still　missing；　who　was　there？　Not　Bowen　Marsh　or　Ser　Wynton　Stout；　that　was　certain。　Had　Thoren　Smallwood　survived　the　Fist；　or　Ser　Ottyn　Wythers？　No；　it　will　be　Cotter　Pyke　or　Ser　Denys　Mallister。　Which；　though？　The　manders　at　the　Shadow　Tower　and　Eastwatch　were　good　men；　but　very　different；　Ser　Denys　courtly　and　cautious；　as　chivalrous　as　he　was　elderly；　Pyke　younger；　bastard…born；　rough…tongued；　and　bold　to　a　fault。　Worse；　the　two　men　despised　each　other。　The　Old　Bear　had　always　kept　them　far　apart；　at　opposite　ends　of　the　Wall。　The　Mallisters　had　a　bone…deep　mistrust　of　the　ironborn；　Jon　knew。
　A　stab　of　pain　reminded　him　of　his　own　woes。　The　maester　squeezed　his　hand。　〃Clydas　is　bringing　milk　of　the　poppy。〃
　Jon　tried　to　rise。　〃I　don't　need…〃
　〃You　do；〃　Aemon　said　firmly。　〃This　will　hurt。〃
　Donal　Noye　crossed　the　room　and　shoved　Jon　back　onto　his　back。　〃Be　still；　or　I'll　tie　you　down。〃　Even　with　only　one　arm；　the　smith　handled　him　as　if　he　were　a　child。　Clydas　returned　with　a　green　flask　and　a　rounded　stone　cup。　Maester　Aemon　poured　it　full。　〃Drink　this。〃
　Jon　had　bitten　his　lip　in　his　struggles。　He　could　taste　blood　mingled　with　the　thick；　chalky　potion。　It　was　all　he　could　do　not　to　retch　it　back　up。
　Clydas　brought　a　basin　of　warm　water；　and　Maester　Aemon　washed　the　pus　and　blood　from　his　wound。　Gentle　as　he　was；　even　the　lightest　touch　made　Jon　want　to　scream。　〃The　Magnar's　men　are　disciplined；　and　they　have　bronze　armor；〃　he　told　them。　Talking　helped　keep　his　mind　off　his　leg。
　〃The　Magnar's　a　lord　on　Skagos；〃　Noye　said。　〃There　were　Skagossons　at　Eastwatch　when　I　first　came　to　the　Wall；　I　remember　hearing　them　talk　of　him。〃
　〃Jon　was　using　the　word　in　its　older　sense；　I　think；〃　Maester　Aemon　said；　〃not　as　a　family　name　but　as　a　title。　it　derives　from　the　Old　Tongue。〃
　〃It　means　lord；〃　Jon　agreed。　〃Styr　is　the　Magnar　of　some　place　called　Therm；　in　the　far　north　of　the　Frostfangs。　He　has　a　hundred　of　his　own　men；　and　a　score　of　raiders　who　know　the　Gift　almost　as　well　as　we　do。　Mance　never　found　the　horn；　though；　that's　something。　The　Horn　of　Winter；　that's　what　he　was　digging　for　up　along　the　Milkwater。〃
　Maester　Aemon　paused；　washcloth　in　hand。　〃The　Horn　of　Winter　is　an　ancient　legend。　Do