grrm.astormofswords-第71部分

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nterfell；　he　had　learned　the　names　of　the　twelve　houses　of　heaven　and　the　rulers　of　each；　he　could　find　the　seven　wanderers　sacred　to　the　Faith；　he　was　old　friends　with　the　Ice　Dragon；　the　Shadowcat；　the　Moonmaid；　and　the　Sword　of　the　Morning。　All　those　he　shared　with　Ygritte；　but　not　some　of　the　others。　We　look　up　at　the　same　stars；　and　see　such　different　things。　The　King's　Crown　was　the　Cradle；　to　hear　her　tell　it；　the　Stallion　was　the　Horned　Lord；　the　red　wanderer　that　septons　preached　was　sacred　to　their　Smith　up　here　was　called　the　Thief。　And　when　the　Thief　was　in　the　Moonmaid；　that　was　a　propitious　time　for　a　man　to　steal　a　woman；　Ygritte　insisted。　〃Like　the　night　you　stole　me。　The　Thief　was　bright　that　night。〃
　〃I　never　meant　to　steal　you；〃　he　said。　〃I　never　knew　you　were　a　girl　until　my　knife　was　at　your　throat。〃
　〃If　you　kill　a　man；　and　never　mean　t'；　he's　just　as　dead；〃　Ygritte　said　stubbornly。　Jon　had　never　met　anyone　so　stubborn；　except　maybe　for　his　little　sister　Arya。　Is　she　still　my　sister？　he　wondered。　Was　she　ever？　He　had　never　truly　been　a　Stark；　only　Lord　Eddard's　motherless　bastard；　with　no　more　place　at　Winterfell　than　Theon　Greyjoy。　And　even　that　he'd　lost。　When　a　man　of　the　Night's　Watch　said　his　words；　he　put　aside　his　old　family　and　joined　a　new　one；　but　Jon　Snow　had　lost　those　brothers　too。
　He　found　Ghost　atop　the　hill；　as　he　thought　he　might。　The　white　wolf　never　howled；　yet　something　drew　him　to　the　heights　all　the　same；　and　he　would　squat　there　on　his　hindquarters；　hot　breath　rising　in　a　white　mist　as　his　red　eyes　drank　the　stars。
　〃Do　you　have　names　for　them　as　well？〃　Jon　asked；　as　he　went　to　one　knee　beside　the　direwolf　and　scratched　the　thick　white　fur　on　his　neck；　〃The　Hare？　The　Doe？　The　She…Wolf？〃　Ghost　licked　his　face；　his　rough　wet　tongue　rasping　against　the　scabs　where　the　eagle's　talons　had　ripped　Jon's　cheek。　The　bird　marked　both　of　us；　he　thought。　〃Ghost；〃　he　said　quietly；　〃on　the　morrow　we　go　over。　There's　no　steps　here；　no　cage…andcrane；　no　way　for　me　to　get　you　to　the　other　side。　We　have　to　part。　Do　you　understand？〃
　In　the　dark；　the　direwolf's　red　eyes　looked　black。　He　nuzzled　at　Jon's　neck；　silent　as　ever；　his　breath　a　hot　mist。　The　wildlings　called　Jon　Snow　a　warg；　but　if　so　he　was　a　poor　one。　He　did　not　know　how　to　put　on　a　wolf　skin；　the　way　Orell　had　with　his　eagle　before　he'd　died。　Once　Jon　had　dreamed　that　he　was　Ghost；　looking　down　upon　the　valley　of　the　Milkwater　where　Mance　Rayder　had　gathered　his　people；　and　that　dream　had　turned　out　to　be　true。　But　he　was　not　dreaming　now；　and　that　left　him　only　words。
　〃You　cannot　e　with　me；〃　Jon　said；　cupping　the　wolf's　head　in　his　hands　and　looking　deep　into　those　eyes。　〃You　have　to　go　to　Castle　Black。　Do　you　understand？　Castle　Black。　Can　you　find　it？　The　way　home？　just　follow　the　ice；　east　and　east；　into　the　sun；　and　you'll　find　it。　They　will　know　you　at　Castle　Black；　and　maybe　your　ing　will　warn　them。〃　He　had　thought　of　writing　out　a　warning　for　Ghost　to　carry；　but　he　had　no　ink；　no　parchment；　not　even　a　writing　quill；　and　the　risk　of　discovery　was　too　great。　〃I　will　meet　you　again　at　Castle　Black；　but　you　have　to　get　there　by　yourself。　We　must　each　hunt　alone　for　a　time。　Alone。〃
　The　direwolf　twisted　free　of　Jon's　grasp；　his　ears　pricked　up。　And　suddenly　he　was　bounding　away。　He　loped　through　a　tangle　of　brush；　leapt　a　deadfall；　and　raced　down　the　hillside；　a　pale　streak　among　the　trees。　Off　to　Castle　Black？　Jon　wondered。　Or　off　after　a　hare？　He　wished　he　knew。　He　feared　he　might　prove　just　as　poor　a　warg　as　a　sworn　brother　and　a　spy。
　A　wind　sighed　through　the　trees；　rich　with　the　smell　of　pine　needles；　tugging　at　his　faded　blacks。　Jon　could　see　the　Wall　looming　high　and　dark　to　the　south；　a　great　shadow　blocking　out　the　stars。　The　rough　hilly　ground　made　him　think　they　must　be　somewhere　between　the　Shadow　Tower　and　Castle　Black；　and　likely　closer　to　the　former。　For　days　they　had　been　wending　their　way　south　between　deep　lakes　that　stretched　like　long　thin　fingers　along　the　floors　of　narrow　valleys；　while　flint　ridges　and　pine…clad　hills　jostled　against　one　another　to　either　side。　Such　ground　made　for　slow　riding；　but　offered　easy　concealment　for　those　wishing　to　approach　the　Wall　unseen。
　For　wildling　raiders；　he　thought。　Like　us。　Like　me。
　Beyond　that　Wall　lay　the　Seven　Kingdoms；　and　everything　he　had　sworn　to　protect。　He　had　said　the　words；　had　pledged　his　life　and　honor；　and　by　rights　he　should　be　up　there　standing　sentry。　He　should　be　raising　a　horn　to　his　lips　to　rouse　the　Night's　Watch　to　arms。　He　had　no　horn；　though。　it　would　not　be　hard　to　steal　one　from　the　wildlings；　he　suspected；　but　what　would　that　acplish？　Even　if　he　blew　it；　there　was　no　one　to　hear。　The　Wall　was　a　hundred　leagues　long　and　the　Watch　sadly　dwindled。　All　but　three　of　the　strongholds　had　been　abandoned；　there　might　not　be　a　brother　within　forty　miles　of　here；　but　for　Jon。　If　he　was　a　brother　still　。　。　。
　I　should　have　tried　to　kill　Mance　Rayder　on　the　Fist；　even　if　it　meant　my　life。　That　was　what　Qhorin　Halfhand　would　have　done。　But　Jon　had　hesitated；　and　the　chance　passed。　The　next　day　he　had　ridden　off　with　Styr　the　Magnar；　Jarl；　and　more　than　a　hundred　picked　Therms　and　raiders。　He　told　himself　that　he　was　only　biding　his　time；　that　when　the　moment　came　he　would　slip　away　and　ride　for　Castle　Black。　The　moment　never　came。　They　rested　most　nights　in　empty　wildling　villages；　and　Styr　always　set　a　dozen　of　his　Therms　to　guard　the　horses。　Jarl　watched　him　suspiciously。　And　Ygritte　was　never　far；　day　or　night。
　Two　hearts　that　beat　as　one。　Mance　Rayder's　mocking　words　rang　bitter　in　his　head。　Jon　had　seldom　felt　so　confused。　I　have　no　choice；　he'd　told　himself　the　first　time；　when　she　slipped　beneath　his　sleeping　skins。　If　I　refuse　her；　she　will　know　me　for　a　tumcloak。　I　am　playing　the　part　the　Halfhand　told　me　to　play。
　His　body　had　played　the　part　eagerly　enough。　His　lips　on　hers；　his　hand　sliding　under　her　doeskin　shirt　to　find　a　breast；　his　manhood　stiffening　when　she　rubbed　her　mound　against　it　through　their　clothes。　My　vows；　he'd　thought；　remembering　the　weirwood　grove　where　he　had　said　them；　the　nine　great　white　trees　in　a　circle；　the　carved　red　faces　watching；　listening。　But　her　fingers　were　undoing　his　laces　and　her　tongue　was　in　his　mouth　and　her　hand　slipped　inside　his　smallclothes　and　brought　him　out；　and　he　could　not　see　the　weirwoods　anymore；　only　her。　She　bit　his　neck　and　he　nuzzled　hers；　burying　his　nose　in　her　thick　red　hair。　Lucky；　he　thought；　she　is　lucky；　fire…kissed。　〃Isn't　that　good？〃　she　whispered　as　she　guided　him　inside　her。　She　was　sopping　wet　down　there；　and　no　maiden；　that　was　plain；　but　Jon　did　not　care。　His　vows；　her　maidenhood；　none　of　it　mattered；　only　the　heat　of　her；　the　mouth　on　his；　the　finger　that　pinched　at　his　nipple。　〃Isn't　that　sweet？〃　she　said　again。　〃Not　so　fast；　oh；　slow；　yes；　like　that。　There　now；　there　now；　yes；　sweet；　sweet。　You　know　nothing；　Jon　Snow；　but　I　can　show　you。　Harder　now。　Yessss。〃
　A　part；　he　tried　to　remind　himself　afterward。　I　am　playing　a　part。　I　had　to　do　it　once；　to　prove　I'd　abandoned　my　vows。　I　had　to　make　her　trust　me。　It　need　never　happen　again。　He　was　still　a　man　of　the　Night's　Watch；　and　a　son　of　Eddard　Stark。　He　had　done　what　needed　to　be　done；　proved　what　needed　to　be　proven。
　The　proving　had　been　so　sweet；　though；　and　Ygritte　had　gone　to　sleep　beside　him　with　her　head　against　his　chest；　and　that　was　sweet　as　well；　dangerously　sweet。　He　thought　of　the　weirwoods　again；　and　the　words　he'd　said　before　them。　It　was　only　once；　and　it　had　to　be。　Even　my　father　stumbled　once；　when　he　forgot　his　marriage　vows　and　sired　a　bastard。　Jon　vowed　to　himself　that　it　would　be　the　same　with　him。　It　will　never　happen　again。
　It　happened　twice　more　that　night；　and　again　in　the　morning；　when　she　woke　to　find　him　hard。　The　wildlings　were　stirring　by　then；　and　several　could　not　help　but　notice　what　was　going　on　beneath　the　pile　of　furs。　Jarl　told　them　to　be　quick　about　it；　before　he　had　to　throw　a　pail　of　water　over　them。　Like　a　pair　of　rutting　dogs；　Jon　thought　afterward。　Was　that　what　he'd　bee？　I　am　a　man　of　the　Night's　Watch；　a　small　voice　inside　insisted；　but　every　night　it　seemed　a　little　fainter；　and　when　Ygritte　kissed　his　ears　or　bit　his　neck；　he　could　not　hear　it　at　all。　Was　this　how　it　was　for　my　father？　he　wondered。　Was　he　as　weak　as　I　am；　when　he　dishonored　himself　in　my　mother's　bed？
　Something　was　ing　up　the　hill　behind　him；　he　realized　suddenly。　For　half　a　heartbeat　he　thought　it　might　be　Ghost　e　back；　but　the　direwolf　never　made　so　much　noise。　Jon　drew　Longclaw　in　a　single　smooth　motion；　but　it　was　only　one　of　the　Thenns；　a　broad　man　in　a　bronze　helm。　〃Snow；〃　the　intruder　said。　〃e。　Magnar　wants。〃　The　men　of　Therm　spoke　the　Old　Tongue；　and　most　had　only　a　few　words　of　the　mon。
　Jon　did　not　much　care　what　the　Magnar　wanted；　but　there　was　no　use　arguing　with　someone　who　could　scarcely　understand　him；　so　he　followed　the　man　back　down　the　hill。
　The　mouth　of　the　cave　was　a　cleft　in　the　rock　barely　wide　enough　for　a　horse；　half　concealed　behind　a　soldier　pine。　It　opened　to　the　north；　so　the　glows　of　the　fires　within　would　not　be　visible　from　the　Wall。　Even　if　by　some　mischance　a　patrol　should　happen　to　pass　atop　the　Wall　tonight；　they　would　see　nothing　but　hills　and　pines　and　the　icy　sheen　of　starlight　on　a　half…frozen　lake。　Mance　Rayder　had　planned　his　thrust　well。
　Within　the　rock；　the　passage　descended　twenty　feet　before　it　opened　out　onto　a　space　as　large　as　Winterfell's　Great　Hall。　Cookfires　burned　amongst　the　columns；　their　smoke　rising　to　blacken　the　stony　ceiling。　The　horses　had　been　hobbled　along　one　wall；　beside　a　shallow　pool。　A　sinkhole　in　the　center　of　the　floor　opened　on　what　might　have　been　an　even　greater　cavern　below；　though　the　darkness　made　it　hard　to　tell。　Jon　could　hear　the　soft　rushing　sound　of　an　underground　stream　somewhere　below　as　well。
　Jarl　was　with　the　Magnar；　Mance　had　given　them　the　joint　mand。　Styr　was　none　too　pleased　by　that；　Jon　had　noted　early　on。　Mance　Rayder　had　called　the　dark　youth　a　〃pet〃　of　Val；　who　was　sister　to　Dalla；　his　own　queen；　which　made　Jarl　a　sort　of　good　brother　once　removed　to　the　King…beyond…the…Wall。　The　Magnar　plain