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Jon

           Ineverthought...Jon,thebooks,haveyoueverseentheirlike?Therearethousands!"

           Hegazedabouthim."ThelibraryatWinterfellhasmorethanahundred.Didyoufindthemaps?"

           "Oh,yes."Sam’shandsweptoverthetable,fingersplumpassausagesindicatingtheclutterofbooksandscrollsbeforehim."Adozen,attheleast."Heunfoldedasquareofparchment."Thepainthasfaded,butyoucanseewherethemapmakermarkedthesitesofwildlingvillages,andthere’sanotherbook...whereisitnow?Iwasreadingitamomentago."Heshovedsomescrollsasidetorevealadustyvolumeboundinrottedleather."This,"hesaidreverently,"istheaccountofajourneyfromtheShadowTowerallthewaytoLornPointontheFrozenShore,writtenbyarangernamedRedwyn.It’snotdated,buthementionsaDorrenStarkasKingintheNorth,soitmustbefrombeforetheConquest.Jon,theyfoughtgiants!Redwyneventradedwiththechildrenoftheforest,it’sallhere."Eversodelicately,heturnedpageswithafinger."Hedrewmapsaswell,see..."

           "Maybeyoucouldwriteanaccountofourranging,Sam."

           He’dmeanttosoundencouraging,butitwasthewrongthingtosay.ThelastthingSamneededwastoberemindedofwhatfacedthemonthemorrow.Heshuffledthescrollsaboutaimlessly."There’smoremaps.IfIhadtimetosearch...everything’sajumble.Icouldsetitalltoorder,though;IknowIcould,butitwouldtaketime...

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