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Jon

           "TheNight’sWatchisthousandsofyearsold,"hesaid,"butI’llwagerLordSnow’sthefirstbrothereverhonoredforburningdowntheLordCommander’sTower."

           Theotherslaughed,andevenJonhadtosmile.Thefirehe’dstartedhadnot,intruth,burneddownthatformidablestonetower,butithaddoneafairjobofguttingtheinteriorofthetoptwofloors,wheretheOldBearhadhischambers.Nooneseemedtomindthatverymuch,sinceithadalsodestroyedOthor’smurderouscorpse.

           Theotherwight,theone-handedthingthathadoncebeenarangernamedJaferFlowers,hadalsobeendestroyed,cutneartopiecesbyadozenswords...butnotbeforeithadslainSerJaremyRykkerandfourothermen.SerJaremyhadfinishedthejobofhackingitsheadoff,yethaddiedallthesamewhentheheadlesscorpsepulledhisowndaggerfromitssheathandburieditinhisbowels.Strengthandcouragedidnotavailmuchagainstfoemenwhowouldnotfallbecausetheywerealreadydead;evenarmsandarmorofferedsmallprotection.

           ThatgrimthoughtsouredJon’sfragilemood."IneedtoseeHobbabouttheOldBear’ssupper,"heannouncedbrusquely,slidingLongclawbackintoitsscabbard.Hisfriendsmeantwell,buttheydidnotunderstand.Itwasnottheirfault,truly;theyhadnothadtofaceOthor,theyhadnotseenthepaleglowofthosedeadblueeyes,hadnotfeltthecoldofthosedeadblackfingers.Nordidtheyknowofthefightingintheriverlands.Howcouldtheyhopetocomprehend?Heturnedawayfromthemabruptlyandstrodeoff,sullen.

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