Robb wanted a platform inside his fort.
He stood on an overturned basket to show Jon how high it ought to be. From there he could see over the hurdle Tomas was holding, across the cut barley and as far as the mill road. He could also look down on Jon, which he was plainly enjoying.
"I could see everything they were doing."
"Until someone pushed the wall," Jon said. "Get down. Tomas cannot hold it all morning."
Robb stepped off reluctantly. Tomas lowered the hurdle, and Jon knelt to work the cord through its frame with his left hand. His right was still wrapped. He had meant to finish both forts before the harvest guests came, but Robb found something else to change whenever they returned to the field. Yesterday he had wanted a second gate. This morning he had brought a basket out of the laundry.
"You could have a platform too," Robb offered.
"And spend the game standing on it?" Jon pulled the cord tight with his teeth, then gave the end to Tomas. "Leave that loose until Oren brings the stakes."
Cley Cerwyn called to them from the path. Robb dropped the basket and ran to meet him. They collided shoulder to shoulder, each trying to catch the other round the neck, and came back still hanging on to one another. Cley had a red wool hood pushed down about his shoulders and crumbs on his coat.
"Where is your father?" Jon asked.
"With yours. They were talking about grain when I left." Cley wiped his mouth and looked between the two half-built enclosures. "Which is ours?"
Robb pointed. Cley went straight through the opening and put both hands against the wall. Tomas caught it before it fell.
"It is not fixed yet," Jon said.
"I can see that." Cley came back out, rather less confidently. "Have I missed anyone?"
"No one," Robb said. "You live half a day away. The rest of them have farther to come."
Cley looked pleased. He took off his cloak, laid it on the basket and asked what needed doing.
They put him to carrying the loose willow rods. For a while the work went quickly. Robb held the uprights, Cley passed the rods through, and Tomas showed him how to turn the end without splitting it. Jon went round to check the lower edge. He could feel Arthur watching from the path whenever he tried to use his bandaged hand, so he kept it tucked against his belt.
Tomas worked in his shirtsleeves despite the cool morning. The boy who had once come last from a trial run with rain soaking through his coat had broadened through the shoulders, and the hurdle that made Cley brace both feet moved easily when Tomas took the other end. Cley noticed too.
"Do all your household grow like that?" he asked Jon under his breath.
"They eat like it," Jon said.
From the road came Heward's bark for Oren to stop showing off and use both hands. The answer made Cley grin before he went back to the willow.
Theon came out with an apple and stopped beside Arthur. He had changed into the coat Catelyn wanted him to wear when the guests arrived. Robb called him over to hold the far post.
"I have only just washed."
"You need not roll in it. Hold this."
Theon took another bite before coming to help. Cley studied the silver kraken at his throat, then looked at Robb, waiting to be told who he was.
"Theon Greyjoy," Robb said. "Cley Cerwyn. He is on my side."
"You have not chosen sides yet," Jon said.
"He is still on mine."
Cley nodded through a mouthful of the apple Theon had handed him. Theon watched him take a second bite and held out his free hand for it.
"Leave me some."
Arthur came down the slope when they began lifting the wall. He braced the end while Tomas drove the first stake. Jon stood back to judge the lean, then asked for the near side to come forward a little. Robb pushed from inside; Cley took hold beside him. They had it upright by the time Oren returned with the rest of the stakes.
"Now your basket," Jon said.
Robb fetched it, put it inside the wall and climbed on. Arthur laid one hand against the upper rail and shook it. Robb grabbed the hurdle with both hands.
"I could brace it."
"You could fall on the stakes," Arthur said. "Down."
Robb obeyed. He took the basket out himself this time and sat on it beside Cley while the others finished. When Jon joined them, his brother leaned against his shoulder, hot and dusty from the work.
"I still want somewhere to see from."
"Stand farther back," Jon said. "Let the others hold the front."
Robb looked towards his fort. "They will think I am hiding."
"You can come forward when you are needed. You need not fight every boy yourself." Jon offered him the water flask. Robb drank, then passed it to Cley without taking his eyes from the wall.
They were still there when Lord Medger came looking for his son. He had Eddard with him, and a servant following with the Cerwyn saddlebag. Cley rose at once. Medger inspected the work, listened while Robb explained where the flags would go, and asked Arthur whether he meant to let them batter one another with real shields.
"Under Rodrik's rules," Arthur said. "He will stop them if they forget."
"They will forget," Medger said, but he was smiling at Cley. Eddard sent the boys to wash. Cley's older sister, Jonelle, was waiting on the path; she pointed to the cloak he had left on the basket and made him go back for it. The men stayed by the field, their talk returning to the Cerwyn grain carts before Jon was out of hearing.
* * *
By the middle of the week, Poole had fitted two more tables into the hall. Bread and roasting onions scented the warm air; above the new places, men hung the Dustin banner beside the Ryswell horse. Lady Barbrey had brought Marna to Catelyn, and Sansa was trying to finish her greeting quickly enough to tell her friend something. Roderick had already escaped to Robb.
Jon sat beside his brother and reached for bread. Wylla caught his wrist. A red mark showed near the thumb of his bandage. She moved his cup to the other side and went to find Arthur.
"Does it hurt?" Robb asked.
"Only when I use it."
"You keep using it." Robb tore the bread and put the larger piece in Jon's bowl.
Across from them, Benfred Tallhart was describing his horse. "He has beaten every horse I have put him against."
"Your father's too?" Daryn asked, his sleeve drawn back from a wrist it scarcely covered.
"That is a warhorse."
"Then whose?" Daryn asked.
Hallan leaned past his cousin. "Was the other rider trying?"
"Race my grey," Robb said. "He will give yours a chase."
"Yours? He is smaller than mine."
Robb turned to Lord Helman, who was listening. "Will you let him?"
"If Hullen judges the horses fit to race together." Helman pushed the bread towards his son. "Eat, Benfred. There will be time enough to prove him." Lady Donella sent the onions down.
Roderick asked whether Tomas, the boy who had shown Cley how to weave the wall, would play.
"He is in my household," Jon said. "He and some of the others."
"He is older than us."
"So is Benfred. Rodrik will see that the numbers are fair."
Daryn asked how a boy was put out. Jon explained the ribbons, and Hallan tucked his arm close to his side to hide his.
"Above the elbow, where it can be seen," Jon told him.
"But if I stand like this—"
"Then you cannot use your shield." Daryn took the bread from his cramped hand. Hallan snatched for it, and Robb laughed so hard that Catelyn turned to look. Jon waited for her to turn away before giving Hallan another piece. "Try it in the yard tomorrow."
Arthur came to sit below Jon, bringing Willam Dustin with him. Willam kept a hand on the knight's shoulder while he bent to hear something Arthur was saying. When he straightened he was laughing, and he called to Mark Ryswell to come and deny it. Mark stayed where he was and raised his cup.
Jon watched Arthur laugh with Willam. So much of the knight's time went to Jon's lessons and ailments that it was easy to forget he had friends of his own. He was glad Willam had come.
Galbart Glover sat opposite Arthur, his coat shoulders damp from the road. He guided a hesitant boy onto the crowded bench. "Niall, my young kinsman. His father has lent him to me for the journey."
Robb made room. Jon passed the platter; Niall helped himself sparingly until Willam told him the kitchen had more.
"Can you fight with a shield?" Robb asked.
"A little."
"More than a little," Galbart said. "He will not tell you that himself."
Niall's ears reddened. Jon asked what sort he used at home. With something to describe, the boy answered readily. Daryn leaned across to compare grips, and by the platter's return Niall had stopped watching Galbart before he spoke.
Theo Wull arrived shaking rain from his cloak while Martyn tried to take it. Torren Norrey followed with his nephews Beren and Benfred. Beren waved to Robb; his elder brother caught his coat and sent him back to bow to Eddard. Arthur rose to greet Theo, and Willam called him over when Ned had done with him.
Theo brought Hugo's second son, Harl Wull, to the new bench. The boy with cropped brown hair was reaching for a seat before Theo detained him for his greeting. He bowed to Robb and Jon, then changed hands to clasp Jon's without touching the bandage.
Beren introduced their cousin Brandon Norrey the Younger, his father's heir: fourteen, thick-wristed, with a crookedly healed nose. Harl made room for him, then had to move again as Edrik Flint wedged himself beside them in his damp sheepskin vest. Edrik's grandfather Torghen still led the First Flints in the high mountains; his father, Black Donnel, was the heir and had sent his eldest boy in his place. The three had grown up riding between their families' halls. Edrik thanked Robb for the seat and shoved Harl's knee away beneath the table.
"Are those your forts by the road?" Harl asked.
"Ours," Robb said. "Mine is the western one."
"I wanted to stop. Brandon would not let us."
"It was raining."
"We were wet already."
"And starving," Edrik reminded him, passing the bread.
"Tomorrow," Jon said. "You will see more." Brandon asked whether Tomas would fight and nodded at Jon's answer. Harl was studying Robb.
"Your west wall is low. Edrik and I could be over it before you reached us."
"You might ask me first." Edrik cut his meat. "Can we pull it down?"
"You can try. Jon made us drive the stakes twice as deep." Niall leaned forward to ask how far apart they stood. At the high table Theo was telling Eddard about the mountain roads.
Sansa and Marna came down from the dais. "Mother says you are to speak to Lady Barbrey," Sansa told Robb.
"I have spoken to her."
"She asked you a question. You ran away."
Barbrey was watching. Robb put down his bread and went, brushing his coat, with Marna delightedly following. Sansa stayed to ask about the Manderly girls.
"They have a longer road," Jon said. "You will have time with them."
She hurried after Marna. Jon turned back to Niall's questions about the black flag. By the time Wylla checked his bowl, he had eaten it empty.
* * *
The next morning Hullen let Robb take his grey out to the riding field, provided he walked it first. Robb lasted as far as the stable door before beginning to explain why a little trot would do no harm. Theon followed with his own reins in one hand, listening with the interest of someone who meant to benefit if the argument succeeded.
Jon was waiting outside when Roose Bolton crossed the yard with Eddard. Robb stopped to greet them. The lord of the Dreadfort laid a pale hand on his shoulder and bent to hear him; Eddard looked back towards the stable and beckoned to a boy leading a bay courser.
"Your son tells me he has brought a horse to beat ours," Eddard said.
"He had better know its worth, then," Roose answered. His voice was quiet enough that Jon had to listen for it.
Robb grinned and turned to the boy. "Come and show them."
He brought him over while the men went into the keep. "Jon, this is Domeric Bolton. He has been at Redfort. Domeric, my brother Jon."
Domeric offered his hand. Jon took it with his left.
The name had brought back the story before the boy finished his greeting: the courteous heir, a sudden illness, the bastard called home to take his place. Jon had never known Domeric alive in the history he remembered. Here he stood with dust on his boots and a small horsehair caught in his sleeve, asking whether Jon meant to ride against them.
"Not with this." Jon showed the bandage. "Theon Greyjoy will, if Hullen gives him leave."
Theon gave his own greeting and went to look at the bay. Domeric moved with him, keeping a loose hold on the reins. He was long-faced, with none of his father's stillness. When the grey reached towards his horse, he drew them apart before either could bite.
"Does he always do that?"
"Only when Robb lets him," Jon said.
Robb shortened his reins. "He would not have reached."
"He meant to try." Domeric rubbed the bay's neck and asked about the course. Jon pointed out the mill road, but Robb was already describing its turns and the place where the ground began to rise. Theon listened, then asked whether anyone else had brought a horse worth racing.
"Harrion will have one," Domeric said. "He is better with a bow."
"So I hear." Theon glanced towards the lower butts. "I shall ask him for a match."
Hullen came out before Robb could mount and looked at the three horses standing nose to tail. He separated them with a word to each rider, then sent the boys to walk the course. Jon went with them. At the first turn he stepped aside while Domeric dismounted to feel the ground with his boot.
"It holds here," Domeric said. "What is it like above?"
"Drier," Jon told him. "But take the outside of the upper turn if there has been rain."
"It is farther," Robb objected.
"You can keep your pace." Jon pointed to the ruts on the inside. "There you must slow."
Domeric looked along both lines, then mounted again. He asked Robb to show him the rest. Theon let them go ahead and stayed beside Jon, leading his horse at a walk.
"Your brother has been telling everyone how he means to win."
"He has told me most often."
"I should like to see his face if that bay beats him."
Jon smiled. "Tell him that, and he will make you ride the course until dark."
On their return, the White Harbor wagons blocked the gate. A rear wheel had sunk beside the kerb, and a barley cart left no room to straighten the team. Men heaving at the wheel were tilting the wagon towards the wall. Two girls clung to the seat within.
"Bring them down first," Jon told the driver.
Hullen held the team while a Manderly guard helped Wynafryd down with Wylla. The younger girl tried to answer Sansa's call from the stair and slipped; the guard caught her and sent both clear. Jon had the barley cart backed into the other yard. Hullen could lead the team round now while the men lifted. Robb and Theon held the loose horses back; Cley joined two grooms pushing at the rear. The wagon came free with a lurch that sent them stumbling.
Wynafryd turned to thank the guard. Wylla embraced Sansa so hard that her hood fell back. Marna ran down to join them, and no one could get the girls inside before their news was told.
Wyman's litter followed through the arch, Wylis and Wendel beside it urging the train onward. As Eddard came to greet them, a covered birdcage passed Jon. Something screeched beneath the cloth. Cley nearly dropped the lever.
"Father said they would bring too much."
"Then help put it away," Hullen said, taking it from him. "There are more behind them."
* * *
By the week's end the guest stables were full. Robb could seldom cross the yard without finding someone he wanted to bring to the field, and Jon had given up trying to finish a morning's work before they called for him. He made them help instead. Smalljon Umber could lift a hurdle which usually took two of the younger boys; he worked beside Tomas while Robb argued with the Karstarks over the borrowed shields.
"You have taken all the good ones," Torrhen said.
"I was here first."
"You live here." Torrhen reached for the shield beneath Robb's arm. His brother Eddard caught his wrist and made him let go.
"Find one that fits you." He turned to Robb. "I should like another bout when you are ready."
Robb's grin returned. He passed Torrhen a shield and went to fetch a sword. Jon came over before they could begin. He clasped Eddard Karstark's hand and asked after the journey from Karhold. They had followed the Umbers down the last stretch of road, Eddard told him, though Torrhen insisted they could have arrived sooner without the wagons.
"Father meant to travel with the wagons," Harrion said, coming up with his bow. He was the tallest of the three, with their father's long face and the same blue-grey eyes as his brothers. "You heard him say so before we left."
Torrhen had no answer. Harrion let the matter drop when he saw Theon crossing the yard with a bow of his own.
Robb introduced them. Before either boy could ask, he proposed the lower butts. Eddard protested that they had been about to use the swords, but Torrhen had already gone to look at Theon's arrows. Jon sent someone to tell Harwin, then went with them. On the gallery, Alys Karstark stood beside her father, her brown braid pulled forward over one shoulder. Robb waved to her. She lifted her hand before Rickard had finished speaking to Eddard Stark.
Harwin cleared the path behind the butts and called a halt whenever someone needed to cross. Theon tested his string while Harrion unwrapped his arrows. Cley watched their hands and tried to persuade Robb to lend him a bow.
Theon's first shaft struck close to the middle. Harrion's went a little higher. They loosed twice more before Harwin let them fetch the arrows. Theon had the closer three, though Harrion's first was the best single shot. Harrion pointed that out twice on the walk back.
"Then loose three like it," Theon said, handing it to him by the shaft.
Jon had watched Theon's drawing hand return to the same place against his cheek. He asked about it while Harrion went back to the line.
"Dagmer would stand beside me and put his finger here." Theon touched the corner of his mouth. "I used to draw farther when I wanted to shoot harder. The arrows went everywhere."
He passed Jon the bow without an arrow. Jon held it in his sound hand and felt the balance, leaving the string alone.
"When the cut has closed," Theon said. "You pull with that one."
"I know." Jon gave it back. "Harrion is waiting for you."
Harwin stopped the next round for servants crossing behind the targets with bedding. Dacey Mormont followed carrying her cloak, Alysane arguing that the saddlebags belonged in their mother's room.
"How many more?" Theon asked, lowering his bow.
"The last," Robb said. "Come and meet them."
Harrion gathered his arrows; Eddard rescued Robb's borrowed shield from the butts. By the stair they found Jorelle and Lyra, who was digging a stone from her boot.
"We thought you would miss it," Robb said.
"So did Mother." Jorelle embraced him and greeted Jon. "We waited on the coast for days."
"And complained for every one," Maege said, coming from Poole. "Have you found beds?"
"Dacey has. Can we see the field?" Lyra caught her mother looking at the bundle on the ground and picked it up.
Jon sent for Oren while the girls took their things upstairs. By their return Robb was describing Smalljon's reach in the wrestling ring. Lyra wanted to try him.
"Ask Rodrik," Maege said. "And if he tells you no, that is the end of it."
"I will ask." She caught Oren's arm as he arrived, already questioning him. Jorelle spread her own arms to compare them with Robb's description.
Jon carried the last bundle up for Maege with his sound hand. Below, Arya and little Lyanna had three wooden cups between them. Each stack collapsed to delighted laughter. When their nurses tried to lift them away, both objected so stoutly that they won a little longer. Arthur waited by the door; Jon joined him and went out towards Robb's laughter.
Outside the walls, tents spread past the winter town palisade. Smoke from cookfires lay blue above the slope. One camp roasted a whole sheep with garlic pushed beneath the skin; another boiled oat porridge in a cauldron broad as a washtub. Three songs fought across the dark and each gained a drum whenever another grew louder.
That evening Jon walked through the camps with Arthur after supper. Men rose when they recognised the knight. At the Norrey fire a place was cleared on a folded cloak and a wooden bowl offered to Jon. He had eaten already, but accepted a little of the broth. Arthur sat beside him, stretching his legs towards the heat. A woman stirred the pot while her husband described the road they meant to take home.
Theo joined them with one of the Flints. The talk turned to houses farther up the valleys, and to who could offer the better lodging on a journey north. Jon asked about the rivers and found himself being told where they could be forded, where the banks fell steeply and whose mill stood below the crossing. Arthur listened over his cup. When they rose to leave, the Norrey made Jon promise to remember the invitation if he came that way.
At the next fire Theon called Jon into his dispute with Harrion over the third arrow.
"He says the wind took it."
"It may have. Yours were lower."
Harrion held out a hand as though that settled everything. Theon disagreed, and Cley's account of his own shooting found no more agreement. Jon sat beside Daryn, clear of the cups, while Eddard Karstark returned with Torrhen and a stool borrowed from their father's tent.
Jon returned to the keep smelling of woodsmoke. Wylla had water waiting and made him wash the soot from his neck. When she drew the brush through his hair, the white lock came forward over her hand. "Hold still, love. You have brought half a hedge home." Jon bent his head and let her work the burrs loose while he told her where Theo said the best trout could be caught.
Later, when Wylla had gone, Jon sent for Arthur. He waited until the door was closed.
"How well do you know Lord Bolton?"
"Less well than Ned does. Why?"
"I have dreamed of him."
Arthur pulled the chair away from the wall and sat. "Tell me."
"His voice. Someone calling for help. I can't see much of the place." Jon looked past him at the shutter. "It was worse when I saw him beside Robb in the yard."
"Was Robb in it?"
Jon nodded. Roose's name had been in the black book since the earlier harvest. Jon kept the wedding, the broken guest right and the deaths he remembered out of his answer. He disliked borrowing the authority of dreams with a man who had served Rhaegar.
"At the last harvest, you would hardly go near him," Arthur said at length.
"There is a name as well. Ramsay. I think he is another son."
"Roose has a bastard?"
"There is a mill beside a river. I don't know the boy by sight."
Arthur rested his forearms upon his knees. "Willam may know something of him."
"Ask quietly."
"I will." His eyes stayed on Jon's face. "What of Domeric?"
Jon had liked the older boy's easy talk with Robb, the care he took with his horse. "I don't think he is safe with them. I would rather he stayed at Redfort."
"Willam first," Arthur said. "Leave that to me. And if you dream of them again, wake me."
At noon the next day, Wyman had his litter brought to the gate tower. He had heard the clock since his arrival and now meant to see what rang it. Other guests gathered as the warning wheel began its quicker run. Pate stood below with his rope coiled and both hands raised when the bell struck. A Karstark man climbed three steps seeking the hidden bellman. Wyman waved his bearers forward, but Pate came down to explain that the stair was too narrow for the litter. The twelfth stroke faded above the yard. "Jon made it," Robb announced.
Too many heads found Jon at once. He waited until the questions quieted. "I drew it and fitted the movement. Mikken forged the iron, Woods made the frame, and Olyver worked with me. Mallon cast the bell. Pate keeps it running."
Wyman leaned out between his curtains. "You set the teeth yourself?"
"I set them out. Olyver and I finished them after Mikken had forged the blanks."
"So Osric wrote. I accused him of drinking before he took up his pen."
"He told you the truth, my lord."
Wyman's beard stirred with his laugh, and his pale blue eyes nearly disappeared into the folds about them. "How old are you now?"
"Seven."
Wyman looked up towards the bell. Roose Bolton stood beneath the tower with his hands folded inside his sleeves.
"How often must it be tended?" he asked.
"Pate winds it morning and evening," Jon said. "He oils the bearings and changes the cord when it wears. There are spare pins in the case."
Rickard Karstark considered the stair, his narrow face grave above the fur at his throat. "My bellman would want a larger stair."
Wyman pointed one thick finger up the stair. "I have a man in mind to keep mine. Shall I send him here before the work is ready?"
"Aye. Pate can teach him while we make it. He must learn to stop it as well as wind it. If a fault is beyond him, he bars the weights and sends word."
Wylis rubbed a hand over his bald head. "Across half the North?" His moustache scarcely moved with the quiet words. "A stopped clock may wait a month for its maker."
Jon beckoned Mikken forward. "Tell Lord Wyman which repairs his own smith can make."
"The common pins and bushes, my lord," Mikken said. "We will send patterns with the clock. The fine teeth should come back to us."
Wyman looked from the smith to Jon. "And the first notion was yours?"
"His drawing, my lord," Mikken said. "I had never seen wheels used that way."
"He called it a waste of good iron," Jon said.
Wyman laughed aloud.
A visiting maester asked to see the next winding. Jon arranged it with Pate, and the maester went to wait out of the traffic.
Domeric had remained by his father. He was not staring at the clock. He was looking at Jon's hidden hand. "Did you hurt that making the clock?" he asked when Roose turned away.
"A slip at the bench. I opened it again with the sword grip."
"Then let your other hand earn its keep today." Domeric smiled.
"Come and see the forts." Robb thrust himself between them. Before Domeric could answer, a salt-stained rider entered the yard and asked Martyn for Ser Arthur. Martyn took the packet he offered. Beneath Ethan Glover's cover was a second, older fold, sealed with a bat. He looked up sharply.
Eddard took the rider's bridle himself. "Food first. Then the guest solar."
Arthur had gone still beside Jon. Willam Dustin and Mark Ryswell came from opposite sides of the yard, all three watching the old seal in Martyn's hand. Robb watched the men gather. "What did he bring?"
"A letter from Dragonstone." Eddard turned the horse towards a waiting groom. "You will hear it later, Jon. Go with Robb for now." Jon glanced at Arthur, then followed his brother towards the barley field.
* * *
Martyn shut the solar door and sent the waiting servant away. Theo Wull barred the shutters. Eddard set Ethan's letter on the table while Arthur stood opposite, with Willam Dustin and Mark Ryswell at either end. The rider sat beside a bowl of broth, fighting to keep his eyes open. "Where did Ethan find this?" Eddard asked.
"A boatman from Planky Town brought it to Dragonstone, my lord. He was there to sell a storm-damaged cog. When he heard Lord Glover knew Ser Arthur, he asked to see him alone."
Mark put out a hand. "What did he see?"
"Two knights came to the cove before the king's patrol closed that part of the coast. One old and broad, one with a bat on his clasp. The boatman rowed them out to a merchant ship. The younger gave him this for Ser Arthur, if ever he found a safe way to send it."
The rider laid the folded skin beside Ethan's letter, one edge stiff with salt. Arthur did not touch it.
"Seven years?" Willam said.
"He hid it after the patrol searched his rooms. Later he feared bringing a fugitive's letter to Lord Stark's door."
"What price?" Martyn asked.
"Safety for his son, if carrying it brought trouble. Ethan promised the boy passage to Dragonstone."
Eddard found that promise in the covering letter. "You have carried the tale far enough. Martyn, find him a bed and see that no one troubles his sleep."
Martyn took him to a servant, then returned and barred the door.
Mark turned to Arthur. "Would Oswell have worn Whent silver while hiding?"
"A bat on his clasp would be like him. He could never bring himself to wear a plain one."
Martyn smiled briefly. He had seen the clasp at the tower.
Arthur drew the packet towards him, then paused over the seal.
"Could Ethan be deceived?" Mark asked.
"Any man can." Martyn turned the skin. "Whent wax proves a ring touched it, no more."
"The nick at the edge was there at Harrenhal." Arthur showed them, then broke the seal with Eddard's leave. Oswell's untidy join of the first two letters was there too. He read on. No ship or harbour was named. Gerold meant to follow a rumour of Queen Rhaella's flight; Oswell trusted it less than he trusted Gerold. They were taking passage east before Robert's patrol made it impossible and would send word when they found ground fit to stand upon. Arthur read the last line twice.
Willam leaned over the table. "What is it?"
"He says I chose the easier road."
Theo Wull snorted. "He had not seen Winterfell with thirty lords in it." The jest fell without laughter. Theo's beard moved as his mouth hardened.
Mark reached for the jug and stopped. "Did he always write to you that way?"
"When he wanted to be answered." Arthur folded the letter carefully. "I should have liked the chance."
"He knew you would keep the boy safe," Eddard said.
"I have tried." Arthur looked towards the closed door.
Seven years had taught Arthur winter roads, nursery fevers and the sound Jon made when a practice blow hurt more than he would admit. Eddard had seen him learning each of those things. He left the knight to read the letter again.
"If they learned where Viserys and the princess had gone," Arthur said, "they may have reached them."
"Or been sent to the wrong port," Mark replied. "The letter tells us they lived when they wrote. It does not tell us they live today."
"Rhaella never left Dragonstone," Eddard said. "Stannis sent word of her pyre. Whatever that rumour promised them, the queen died there. It is the children whose path we have lost."
Arthur flattened Oswell's letter against the table until the old folds whitened beneath his fingers. "Gerold knew what she would ask of him. Her children were still alive."
"He could not know where they had been taken."
"It was his duty to find them."
"And yours was to stay with Aemon." Eddard kept his voice low. "We divided the guard because both households needed swords."
Willam looked between them. "You speak as if the choice is finished. If the old bull and Oswell live, they are still his swords."
"They are also hunted men," Mark said. "If we send a ship openly from White Harbor, Robert will soon hear where she has gone."
Theo rested both fists on the table. "Then have a trader ask after them while he sells his wool. He need not tell every harbourmaster whose business he is on."
"Ask the boatman about the merchant ship," Mark said. "Her colours, her master, anything he remembers of the crew. Ethan's factors can put the questions to men who sailed those waters. There is nothing here to send Arthur after yet."
Willam pushed his chair back. "Seven years, and we send another question."
"Give me a harbour," Mark said, "and I will find you a ship."
Willam looked at the letter. Oswell had named none.
Theo reached past him for the jug. "You would enjoy the voyage until the first contrary wind. Then you would curse us for bringing you."
"I would curse you before we sailed."
"There is the Willam I remember." Theo filled his cup first. "Drink. Let Ethan's men ask about the ship."
Neither Theo nor Willam had looked at Arthur while they spoke. Willam accepted the cup and sat without drinking.
Arthur stood apart with Oswell's letter in both hands. Eddard turned to him. "Do you wish to go?"
Arthur gave no quick answer. That frightened Eddard more than anger would have done. "I want to know whether they are alive, and whether they found Rhaella's children. But this gives us nowhere to look." His fingers flattened the folded skin. "I would be leaving Jon to chase a rumour seven years old."
Eddard nodded. Outside, one of the boys shouted for Jon, and another shouted back that he had gone to the barley field.
"He will ask about the letter," Arthur said.
"Tell him old friends were alive when it was written. We are still looking for them."
Mark drew the ink towards him. Eddard dictated the answer for Ethan, keeping names out of the directions his factor would carry.
Martyn checked the passage and let Willam and Theo leave first. Mark followed with Eddard's answer. Arthur remained until the room was quiet.
When Eddard and Arthur came out, Robb and Jon stood across the yard beside a heap of uprooted turf. Both boys had mud to the knees. Robb held a red ribbon. Jon carried a stake in his left hand and watched Arthur's face. "Was it bad news?" Robb asked.
"An old letter," Eddard said.
Robb frowned at being excluded. Jon waited until Arthur had crossed the yard. "Does it call you away?"
"It was written seven years ago. We still do not know where they are," Arthur said. He touched Oswell's folded letter beneath his cloak. "Ethan continues the search. I am staying."
Jon stepped closer. "Tell me when we are alone."
"I will." Arthur put a hand upon the back of his neck, brief and firm. "Now show me which of you put a fort over a wet hollow." Robb blamed Jon before they had crossed half the yard.
* * *
That afternoon, Smalljon Umber laughed at the wrestling ring until Benfred Tallhart invited him inside it. Fresh sand covered the yard within a rope circle. Ser Rodrik allowed no fists, no fingers near eyes, and no hold that twisted a knee or neck. A boy won by putting both his opponent's shoulders to earth. Greatjon looked Benfred up and down. "You had best be quick, lad."
Smalljon stepped over the rope and bent his knees, waiting for Benfred.
Benfred went low before the Umber could close. He caught one knee, turned his shoulder against the thigh, and drove. Smalljon rocked a full step. The watching boys shouted. Harrion Karstark cried for the other leg. Lyra Mormont shouted for Benfred to hold on. Smalljon sprawled his weight, caught Benfred around the middle, and lifted him clear of the sand. The Tallhart kicked once in empty air. "Put me down."
"Yield, then."
"No," Benfred said. Smalljon grinned. He could have thrown the boy. Instead he lowered Benfred until his heels touched, shifted his grip, and tried for a proper fall. Benfred used the instant of care to hook a foot behind Smalljon's ankle. They went down together. Sand burst beneath them. Benfred sat upon the larger boy's chest for half a heartbeat. Surprise made him slow. Smalljon bridged, rolled, and pressed both Benfred's shoulders flat. Rodrik slapped the sand twice. Greatjon's approval startled pigeons from the broken tower.
Benfred came up rubbing one ear. Smalljon offered a hand. "You nearly had me."
"I did have you."
"Nearly." They clasped wrists. Smalljon bent to look at the ear Benfred kept rubbing, then called for water. Jon watched him with a pang. He had remembered the Umber dying behind an overturned table. This boy kept asking his opponent whether the ringing had stopped.
Rodrik rested Smalljon while Eddard Karstark took a turn against Daryn. Alys called her brother's name from beside the rope. Wynafryd urged Daryn on, more quietly, and Jonelle Cerwyn moved the younger girls back when the wrestlers came near. Daryn got his arms about him first, but Eddard planted his feet and refused to be dragged forward. Jon saw him shift his hip across the Hornwood's path. The fall was quick enough to leave Daryn staring up at the sky. Hallan called for another try; Eddard helped Daryn up and asked whether he had wind enough. They had one more bout before Rodrik sent them out and called Smalljon back into the ring.
Robb ducked beneath the rope. "Me." Catelyn called his full name from the gallery. He hesitated, then squared up to Smalljon.
"He is twice your size," Cley said.
"Only if he catches me." Robb lasted longer because he refused Smalljon's strength. He darted close, struck a shoulder, and fled. Smalljon turned after him. Robb went low. A huge hand caught the back of his tunic and raised him until his toes combed two lines through the sand.
"This is not wrestling," Robb complained.
Smalljon laughed. Robb caught his wrist, dropped and dragged him to one knee. The yard roared. The Umber recovered and rolled him beneath a shoulder, but Robb rose coughing and delighted.
Smalljon crooked a finger at Jon. "Black next."
The cut at the base of Jon's thumb pulled when he closed his hand. Arthur stood by the rope and said nothing. Every visiting boy looked from the famous knight to the small lord under his guard. "When it heals," Jon said.
Theon clicked his tongue. "Lord Black declines battle because his nurse tied a cloth around him."
Jon held up the wrap, already spotted from the morning's sword grip. "And I mean to have the use of it tomorrow."
Smalljon bent to look at the bloodied linen. "I can wait."
"You will wait longer if you let him hit you first," Robb said.
Jon elbowed his brother with his sound arm. Domeric smiled.
Lyra stepped into the ring. "My turn."
Rodrik looked at Lady Maege. She folded her arms. "Let her try."
"I will hurt you," Smalljon warned.
"You have to catch me first."
She made him spend a full minute. Dacey called to her from beside Maege. "Lower, Lyra!" Twice she slipped under his arm. On the third attempt he caught her around the middle; she locked both heels behind his knee and took him down with her. Smalljon still landed above, but he rose red-faced and uncertain whether he had won or been tricked. Lyra spat sand. "Nearly."
Alysane met Lyra at the rope with a cup of water. She waited while her sister spat out the last of the sand, then made her rinse her mouth before drinking.
"You made him work for that," Dacey said.
Lyra looked towards Smalljon, still pleased with herself.
Benfred laughed until Smalljon chased him out of the ring. They ate beside the riding field, where kitchen women passed oatcakes, crocks of curds and quartered apples. Cley drowned his cake in honey. Alys, seated beside Jorelle, warned him that it was breaking; he lifted it too late, and the middle landed on his boot.
Smalljon broke his own cake and gave Jon half. He had already eaten three. Lyra sat opposite with sand in her hair and demanded another bout.
"You lost," Robb told her.
"I nearly had him."
"So did I," Benfred said.
Smalljon drew his knees beneath the bench as Lyra reached for an apple. Cley saw him and began laughing. Honey ran over Jon's thumb while Benfred and Lyra disputed who had come nearer to a victory.
Domeric gave Cley a clean cloth for his boot. Before the baskets were empty, Hullen's horn called the race heats. The course crossed the western pasture, turned between white posts, climbed the mill road and came down to a rope before the east gate. Hullen allowed garrons and small coursers, with neither spurs nor whips.
Benfred had lost his heat to Robb and stayed by the rope to watch the final. Robb, Domeric, Harrion and Lyra Mormont brought their horses to the start. Lyra's shaggy black mare tried to bite the near post. Harrion's chestnut mouthed its bit. Robb bounced upon his grey until Jon caught the bridle.
"You are telling him to start before the horn."
"I am settling him."
"With your backside?" Domeric asked. Robb went still.
Jon released the bridle and stepped clear. He had hoped his hand would be fit for the race; instead Hullen gave him the light horn and went to place the judges at the finish. Arthur waited beside him.
"Ready?" Jon called.
Robb crouched over his grey's neck. Domeric settled his feet in the stirrups.
Four horses gathered themselves. Lyra leaned low. Harrion fought his chestnut's jaw. Robb stared at the first post. Domeric rested one hand upon his bay's neck and looked between the animal's ears. The horn sounded. Lyra's mare knew the call and took a length at once. Robb drove inside before the first turn. Harrion went wide. Domeric let the other three spend themselves across the wet lower ground, shortened before the post, and crossed behind Harrion into the open track. He entered the turn last and left it second. Robb looked back. "Eyes ahead!" Jon shouted.
The glance cost a stride. Domeric drew level upon the mill road. His bay was larger; Robb's grey knew every rut. At the second post, Domeric yielded the inner path before Robb could close it, kept his horse balanced on the wider curve, and came downhill with speed still under him. Lyra passed Harrion behind. Alys ran a few paces along the rope, calling for her brother to catch her. Beside Jonelle, Sansa had both hands clasped beneath her chin; Marna kept saying that the bay was gaining, though Sansa could see that perfectly well. Maege Mormont's shout carried from the wall. Robb drove with both heels and the grey began to close, but the bay crossed half a neck ahead. Greatjon struck the rail with his palm. "Good riding, lad!" Hullen called the three finish judges together. They had all seen the same thing. "Domeric," Jon said.
Robb slid down, breathing hard. Mud freckled his cheeks. "You were behind at the first post."
"I had room to pass on the hill," Domeric said.
"You gave me the inside."
"Your grey had to slow for it. I could keep my pace on the outside."
Robb looked back up the road. Irritation left as soon as he saw the choice. "Again tomorrow."
"After the forts."
"After the forts, then." They clasped arms. Roose raised one finger from the rail, summoning his son. Domeric loosened the bay's girth and told a stable boy the animal had shortened its stride on the last turn before answering the summons. Jon returned the horn to Hullen.
Domeric stopped beside Jon on his way to Roose. "You may race us next year."
"I mean to." Jon held out his left hand, and Domeric clasped it.
The smile left the older boy's face when he joined his father. Roose bent his head to speak; Jon could not hear the words. Arthur came up beside him and offered an apple quarter. Jon took it. Hullen's men were already pulling the course ropes down.
* * *
The next morning, the reaped barley field held two hurdle forts. Red cloth hung above the western wall, black above the east. Between them a shallow fold crossed the stubble beneath pale sedge. The soil looked dry until Oren pushed a stick into it and brought the end up black. "Water lies here after hard rain," he told Jon. "The upper run is choked."
Ser Rodrik stepped beside him and tried the ground with his heel. "The surface has dried over it."
"Not beneath," Jon said. "Move black three paces east. Rope the sedge. Leave one way through the stubble."
Arthur measured the new ground. "Your easier approach grows narrow."
"So does theirs."
Tomas took one end of the first hurdle. Jon raised his voice before visiting heirs could mistake a patched coat for a servant sent to carry. "Tomas commands my household and keeps black's left. If he says the ground fails, hear him."
Tomas beckoned two of the castle boys to help him. Torrhen Karstark took the far end as they lifted it. Jon left Oren beside the wet ground to keep boys away while the wall was moved.
Rodrik gathered both companies and gave the rules: no blows above the shoulder, no striking from behind. A boy who lost his arm ribbon knelt until a comrade retied it. Carry the enemy's banner through your own gate to win. Either horn ended the game.
Catelyn brought the girls up the slope while the boys collected ribbons. Arya escaped her nurse as soon as she saw Robb and was caught at the hurdle.
"Me!" She reached for his red cloth.
"You are too little." Robb crouched beside her, and she seized his sleeve. Catelyn took her before she could pull him into the field. Jon offered a scrap of black, which she gripped fiercely without ceasing to point.
"You can cheer for us," he told her. "Stay where I can see you."
Jonelle spread her cloak on the dry slope for the younger children. Sansa brought Jeyne to sit with Marna and the Manderly girls; Alys stayed on her feet to watch her brothers. Alysane and Jorelle settled beside Jonelle. Jorelle asked which part of Smalljon Lyra meant to lift.
"All of him," Lyra said.
Little Lyanna's nurse set her beside Arya. The two began folding and unfolding the black ribbon while Marna announced that Roderick wanted Jon's side.
"Then you must cheer for him," Sansa said. "I shall cheer for Robb."
"And Cley," Jonelle added.
Sansa considered. "You can cheer for Cley. But he must help Robb."
Jonelle agreed, laughing. Jon returned to the boys as Arya called Robb's name until he waved.
"Jon takes black," Robb said. "He moved the fort. I take red."
"Do you?" Jon nudged his shoulder with his sound arm. Robb nudged back. By the time Rodrik had gathered the others, boys upon the rise were already asking for colours. Cley tied red because Robb was his friend. Harrion brought Benfred Tallhart, Daryn and Hallan. Eddard Karstark tied on red beside his elder brother, while Torrhen chose black and grinned across at them. Theon chose red before learning the ground. Brandon Norrey took black. When Edrik reached for red, Harl caught his sleeve. "You said we would fight together."
"Yesterday," Edrik said, tying the strip.
Harl asked Jon for black. Brandon helped him with the knot, watching Edrik go across to Robb. Jon sent both boys to Tomas. Domeric waited until both sides had nearly formed, then wound red cloth about his arm.
"You are joining Robb?" Jon asked.
Domeric tightened the red strip. "He asked me first."
Dacey had been listening behind them. Now she held out a hand for one of the padded swords. "I should like a place, if there is one."
Jon offered her a black ribbon. "Oren needs another shield beside the lane."
Rodrik looked along the two companies, then nodded and found her a shield. Dacey tightened the belt over her riding coat and went to Oren, who showed her the ground they were to hold. From the slope, Jorelle called to ask which side she had chosen. Dacey lifted her arm to show the black cloth.
Smalljon took red last. Jon expected Robb to hide him behind the centre. An Umber was an obvious hammer; using him after another movement had opened the line made him harder to turn. Robb looked up at the enormous boy and said, "You wait behind our fort."
Smalljon's face fell. "Until when?"
"Until they forget you." The disappointment became a grin.
Robb caught Domeric by the red strip and pulled him towards their fort. "Come here. I need to know what he expects."
Domeric studied black's moved wall. "He expects the centre to enter the easy ground and find a second hurdle. He expected Smalljon at our front."
"Everyone expects me at the front," Smalljon said.
Robb shook his head. "Then everyone already knows where you are. Harrion and Ned make noise on the left. Daryn and Hallan keep the banner until I call them. Theon and Cley take the empty ground. Domeric comes with me around the right."
Theon frowned. "And when the empty ground proves full?"
"You lose loudly."
"A command worthy of a Stark."
"If Jon sends boys to chase you, run."
Cley asked, "What if he does not?"
Robb looked up at Smalljon. "Then we teach him why he should have."
Domeric's gaze remained upon the cut barley. "He has kept three behind the wall."
"So have I," Robb said.
Smalljon grinned. "Let them come. I can hold three."
Jon marked Smalljon's absence from the red front. Robb would loose him only after pursuit stretched black's centre. On black, Tomas held the left. Oren took the lane through the stubble. Niall Glover and Roderick Dustin guarded the fort. Jon kept Edden and two castle boys behind the wall, a reserve quick enough to answer either gate. Edden had a narrow face and a blue patch upon one elbow. Jon knew how quickly he could cross the yard; he had not yet asked where the boy slept.
Tomas crouched beside the black hurdle. "Harrion keeps looking at this end, my lord."
"Give him the first wall. Change the front pair when they tire, but do not follow him out." Jon looked along the file. "The same goes for Theon. Let him shout."
Tomas nodded and went to place his boys. Oren stood at the mouth of the lane through the stubble, testing its edge with his heel. Jon sent Torrhen to help Tomas.
Lords and ladies covered the rise. Eddard and Catelyn stood beneath the direwolf, Wyman seated to their right. Roose Bolton remained pale and still beyond him. Greatjon, Rickard and Maege found places at the front. Arthur held the east horn, Martyn the west.
Rodrik lifted his staff. "When either horn sounds, every hand opens. Strike after the call, and you spend tomorrow moving both forts alone."
The staff fell. Red came shouting through the stubble. Sansa and Jeyne called for Robb, their voices carrying together from the slope. Alys shouted to Harrion and Eddard, then saw Torrhen moving on the other side and called his name as well. Harrion, Eddard and Benfred struck black's left with enough noise for six men. Theon and Cley took the middle, Theon's padded sword high above his head. Robb and Domeric ran towards the open right. Jon yielded the first hurdle. Three red boys cheered. Theon let Cley vault the wattle first, then followed with his padded sword held across his body. Tomas rose behind the second wall. Theon caught his first stroke and reached past it for the black ribbon, but Torrhen Karstark drove Cley aside and came against his exposed flank. The red strip tore free before Theon could turn. He knelt at once. Cley crawled back towards him while Tomas withdrew behind the hurdle.
"You gave us that ground," he accused from his knees.
"You accepted," Tomas said. Cley retied the red strip and hauled Theon up beside him. Robb's eyes went to Oren's narrowing lane. He called Harrion across, and red shifted before its centre dissolved. Oren gave ground through the stubble without turning his back. Every step drew the attackers into a narrower line. Robb and Domeric reached the black fort. Niall caught Robb at the wall. Domeric passed them both. Jon met him beneath the banner. Domeric offered his left shoulder. Jon followed it. The Bolton's rear foot went right before the rest of him did. By the time Jon understood, Domeric was past. Red fingers tore the black ribbon from his arm. Heat climbed Jon's neck as he knelt. Boys shouted around him. He had watched Domeric's body at the race and still allowed a face and shoulder to lie to him.
"Roderick, the banner," he called from the ground. "Niall, hold Robb."
Roderick caught at Domeric's ribbon and lost his own. The exchange bought one breath. Niall pulled free, seized Jon's strip, and tied it with shaking fingers. Jon rose while Niall bent to retie Roderick's strip. Beneath the banner, Edden and the two castle boys had brought their shields together. Domeric tried to reach round them, then backed away as Jon advanced. "Once," Jon called after him.
"Once was sufficient," Domeric answered.
For the next quarter of an hour neither side could break through. Theon crouched beside the hurdle, found the stakes fastening it and called Cley away from the blocked opening. Together they went along its face, making Tomas's boys turn to keep them in sight. Cley maintained that three boys had struck his face when none had reached higher than his shoulder. Benfred lost a boot. Lyra, watching from the rope, found it and demanded a copper for salvage.
At the outer hurdle, Edrik feinted towards Harl's ribbon and sprang back. Harl started after him. Brandon caught his shield rim and hauled him into place beside Tomas. Edrik laughed from beyond their reach. Harl crouched lower behind his shield, waiting for him to try again.
Jon moved his left flank forward. Tomas did not wait upon every instruction; he changed the front pair when Harrion pressed, then sent Torrhen behind Oren before the wet lane opened. Eddard Karstark shouted a warning when he saw his brother moving. Robb called Daryn out from red's fort to meet him. Their padded blades clattered together while Oren edged two of his boys farther along the lane. Beside Oren, Dacey caught Harrion's sword on her shield and drove him back far enough for the younger boys to close their line. Jorelle cheered her from the slope.
Jon felt the old urge to call the change after it had already begun. He swallowed the needless order.
Robb climbed his own fort and shouted, "Run!"
Theon stared up at him. "Where?"
"Away from them." Robb leapt down the western side and fled. Cley laughed first. Theon called his captain a coward with such delight that black heard the lie and chased. Two of Tomas's boys broke before he stopped them. Torrhen would not be left behind by boys from Winter Town and ran after them. Black's centre stretched thin.
Robb turned. "Smalljon!" The waiting Umber came over the red wall, arms spread. Boys scattered before him. Dacey held her place beside Oren; Harrion and Eddard were pressing them too closely for her to leave the lane. Robb, Domeric and Theon turned back with the retreating line. Hallan ran after Smalljon, leaving the red banner unguarded. Jon saw the gap open in black's centre. Three had chased despite his order, leaving Tomas calling after them.
"Tomas, keep the left," Jon called. "Oren, hold the lane. Roderick, draw Smalljon away."
Roderick swallowed. "With what?"
"Draw him this way, then turn." Roderick ran across Smalljon's front and ducked beneath the reaching hand. Oren dropped a hurdle behind them, forcing Smalljon to go round. Jon took Edden and Niall through the stubble towards red's fort. Roderick doubled back and ran after them.
Cley shouted. Domeric turned back, but Edden had reached the cloth. He pulled it loose and ran with Niall at his left. Cley caught the trailing end. The cloth snapped taut; Edden stumbled, and Jon caught the banner beside him with his left hand.
"Keep your feet," Jon told Edden. He bunched the loose cloth clear of the boy's legs.
For three strides he and Edden carried it together. Cley clung until Roderick struck his ribbon away. Niall put his shoulder between them and red's gate. Behind, Robb dragged at black's cord. It held. "Theon, the knot!"
Theon surged from the straw and caught it with both hands. Jon and Edden crossed their own gate. Arthur's horn sounded. Martyn answered before the note died. Every boy stopped, or tried. Smalljon ran into the hurdle because he was watching the banners. The wattle collapsed beneath him. He sat amid broken willow with such betrayed dignity that Robb began laughing. A scrape marked Smalljon's knee, but he was laughing too. Black had won. Noise filled the field. Cley claimed his long grip upon the red banner made its capture unlawful. Theon insisted the black knot had been loose before the horn and invited Rodrik to admire the marks upon his palms. Rodrik examined the cord. "Still tied."
"Loosened."
"Still tied," Rodrik repeated. Greatjon was asking Robb about Smalljon's charge and interrupting every answer. Eddard Karstark went to collect Hallan, who had lost his ribbon in the charge. Torrhen passed them with his black strip still tied, unable to keep from grinning. Rickard watched Tomas gather his boys. Wyman leaned towards Wylis and asked who had brought the banner in.
Robb came across to the black fort. Edden held up the captured red cloth, and Robb raised one corner with him. "Black won. Jon led them, and Edden brought our banner in." Wyman repeated the boy's name to Wylis. Roose looked once at Edden, then returned his attention to Domeric. Black cheered. After a moment, red joined them.
Marna sprang up beside Sansa. "Roderick helped! Did you see?"
Sansa had seen. She watched Robb holding the corner of Jon's captured banner, then began clapping with the others. Wylla Manderly took up Edden's name when Robb called it, and Jorelle joined her. Jonelle called Cley over to look at a scrape on his cheek; he insisted on telling her how nearly he had held the banner until she turned his face towards the light.
Arya struggled to be put down when Jon reached the slope. Catelyn kept hold of her until the boys had stopped running past, then let her toddle the last few paces to him. Lyanna came too, with one hand in Arya's. Arya held out the crumpled black ribbon. Jon bent to take it, and she snatched it back against her chest. He laughed and let her keep it. The little girls went back together to show it to Lyanna's nurse.
When Jon returned to the field, Edden came to stand beside him, still breathing hard. Domeric clasped Jon's wrist, and Robb followed with straw in his hair.
"I had your knot," Robb said.
"You should have brought it with you."
Theon held out his scraped palms. "Next time untie your own."
"Next time I shall cut it," Robb said.
"Wooden swords," Domeric reminded him.
Robb looked at the ash blade in his hand and began to laugh again. Across the field Smalljon and Oren tried to lift the collapsed hurdle. It broke in the middle. Rodrik called the nearest boys over to help.
* * *
That evening, the great hall smelled of roast mutton, hot bread, damp wool, and honey glaze burning upon three trays of carrots. Banners covered the stone from the dais to the doors. Sansa's late flowers floated in bowls between salt and trenchers. Wylla Manderly had persuaded Lord Wyman to wear one white bloom in his beard.
Jon waited by the wall while servants passed with platters. Lady Donella greeted Wyman with both hands extended; he kissed his cousin's cheek without losing the flower, though a petal fell into his wine. At the mountain table a Norrey cleared a place for a late kinsman, a Flint cut bread for the old man beside him, and Theo's preferred brown ale filled the cups. Eddard stopped to listen there on his way to the dais.
Cley had found Galbart and Medger discussing his race. His father, who had lost sight of him at the first turn, held his sleeve until Galbart had finished the version Cley meant to improve.
Catelyn caught Robb before he reached his place and rubbed a smear from his cheek with her thumb. "You have washed everywhere but your face." She straightened his collar, then turned Sansa's sleeve to look for the missing ribbon. Jon waited beside them, his bad hand tucked beneath his arm.
"Your place is beside Ser Arthur this evening," she told him.
"Of course, my lady."
She turned back to Robb before Jon had moved away. At the lower tables Tomas and Oren sat among grooms and craftsmen's sons. Edden had found a place within sight of the dais.
Wylla caught Jon by the back of his collar before he sat. She worked a stiff barley awn out of the wool where it had been scratching his neck all afternoon. "You might have asked."
"I forgot it was there."
"So I see." Wylla smoothed his hair and set beef broth beside him. "Eat this while I cut your meat."
Arthur sat one place below Jon. Across from him, Martyn loosened his belt after the long afternoon at the field rope. Willam leaned over his shoulder.
"Will you eat before giving judgement on the race?"
"I have given it twice."
"Roderick has found a reason to hear it again."
Roderick was explaining something to Barbrey with two spoons. She returned the second to its starting place, and Willam sat before he could be called as a witness. Arthur offered Jon the browned edge of his mutton. He held out his trencher, hungry now that the game was over, and rested his aching hand beneath the table. The broth warmed him through.
Theo came down from the mountain table with news of a singer who knew a verse Greatjon had been demanding all evening. He asked Martyn to judge which version he remembered. By the time the serving women returned, the three men were arguing over a name in the second verse, and Arthur had been drawn into it. Jon ate while they tried the tune in low voices and failed to agree.
Across the hall, Smalljon had acquired a second trencher of mutton and was bargaining with Benfred for a third. Edden sat within Jon's sight because Robb had shouted his name until Poole found the boy a place. Tomas sat two tables away with Oren. Cley drew up a stool opposite Tomas and called for him to explain how he had caught Theon's ribbon. Theon drew a stool nearer.
"Torrhen took it," Theon said. "I was watching your sword."
"He was beside me." Tomas broke his bread and passed the loaf on. "You came over where both of us could reach you."
"Cley was meant to have him."
"Cley was busy being shoved," Cley said. He took two pieces of bread and gave Theon the larger. "You could have come sooner."
Theon reached across him for the onions. "Next time, stay on your feet and I shall consider it."
Tomas placed the second hurdle with a cup. Theon listened, objecting when Cley moved his own cup too far. Harrion came down with his brothers to join them; Torrhen wanted to hear his taking of the ribbon again. Eddard spotted Hallan. "Why did you leave the banner?"
"Everyone was running." Daryn moved over to let them sit, rubbing the shoulder he had landed on in the wrestling.
Domeric opened his harp case after the meat. Jon heard the first strings while a serving woman cleared their platters. The air came from the Vale, slower than the songs Theo had been remembering. Conversation continued at the far end of the hall, but those nearest turned to listen. Barbrey rested one elbow on the table and watched her nephew's hands.
His second air was northern. Greatjon knew the words and began them in a voice which carried to the doors. Others joined him at the refrain. He sang well, with more care for the tune than Jon had expected from a man who had spent dinner shouting over it. One of the Norreys took the next verse while Greatjon drank.
Rickard Ryswell called for a quicker song before Domeric had finished. Maege told him to let the boy play. Domeric bowed to both and began a reel. Dacey rose from beside her mother, shaking the folds of her gown clear of the bench. Maege passed her the ribbon she had left on the table and returned to her cup.
When the reel ended, Domeric came to Jon's table. Robb had come over from his own place and was sitting beside Jon. He leaned across to make room. "Who taught you the Vale song?"
"Lord Redfort's harper," Domeric said. "He said I played it like a burial."
"It sounded well," Robb said.
Domeric laid the harp carefully beside his stool.
"Will you go back?" Jon asked.
"Aye. My service remains at Redfort. Father wanted me here for the gathering." He glanced towards Roose, then tested a string with one finger.
"Do you like it there?" Robb asked.
"Very much. Lord Redfort's sons have made me welcome. There is always someone to ride with." Domeric ran his thumb along the polished edge of the harp. "The Dreadfort will seem quiet when I go home."
"Come here, then. Father would let you." Robb glanced towards the dais. "I can ask him."
"I must go home sometime." Domeric smiled at him. "They have their brothers at Redfort. You have Jon. I shall miss having someone to quarrel with over breakfast."
"Come for the next gathering, at least," Robb said. "We can ride every day."
"I should like that."
Domeric went back to tuning his harp. Redfort kept Domeric far from the boy at the mill, but his service there would end. Jon had thought about keeping Ramsay away from him. Listening to Domeric now, he could see why the young heir might go looking for a brother himself. Jon would write to him; he wanted to know before Domeric returned north. "Was there a stone in your bay's foot?" he asked.
Domeric looked up from the strings. "A loose shoe. Hullen set it before supper. You watched after all."
"I saw you speaking to the groom."
"You shall ride against him next year." At the lower table, Edden slid a heel of bread under his tunic. A kitchen boy caught the motion and reached for his sleeve. Edden went white.
Jon rose and went to their table. "Leave the bread."
"Steward said clear the tables, my lord," the kitchen boy replied.
Poole had already seen. "Clear the spoiled trenchers. A sound heel may go where it is needed."
Jon wrapped the bread in a clean corner of linen and put it beside Edden. "Keep it. Meet me in the side passage at first bell, before breakfast. Bring your mother if she is here."
Edden nodded. When Jon returned, Robb leaned close. "Benfred says he sleeps above the cooper."
"Then I know where to find him." Jon looked down the hall once more. Edden was eating the bread now, holding the cloth beneath it to catch the crumbs.
Sansa came from the dais carrying a white flower. The blue silk at her shoulders shone when she passed the candles, and loose auburn curls had escaped the little braids beside her face. Marna Dustin walked beside her, keeping the edge of her skirt clear of the spilled ale. The girls had been watching the musicians from Lady Barbrey's side of the table.
Wylla Manderly followed with three green ribbons she claimed to have won in contests no one remembered holding. Wynafryd came more slowly, waiting while Sansa stopped to free her hem from a stool. Marna held the flower for her and gave it back as soon as the silk was loose.
"We are to stand beside Wynafryd," Sansa informed Jon. "She knows when to turn."
"I know," Marna said.
"You turned twice when we practised."
"Only because Wylla pulled me." Wylla Manderly had already gone to ask Cley whether he meant to dance in the same boots he had worn in the field. Sansa inspected Jon's instead, appeared satisfied and stepped closer.
Sansa pushed the flower through Jon's black cord. "You must dance when they clear away the tables."
"Show me the first turn, then."
"Wynafryd will show us." Sansa went to fetch Robb while Jon set his cup aside.
Robb came willingly and caught Jon's sound wrist. Cley took his other arm. Alys seized Robb. Jorelle drew Hallan into the line beside her, while Daryn offered his hand to Wynafryd. Domeric passed his harp to a Winterfell player before joining them. Jon watched Wynafryd through the opening figure and followed it on the repeat. Smalljon trod on his cloak and apologised so gravely that Lyra laughed. Robb turned the wrong way; Cley collided with Domeric. Sansa tried to follow Wynafryd while Wylla Manderly pulled her the other way. Jon laughed with them and brought the line round again before Robb could spoil the next turn.
Once Jon found the turn, it became easier. The line carried him past the hearth and back towards the dais, hands lifting and parting, skirts brushing the rushes. His cloak grew hot about his shoulders. Arthur took it when they paused, folded it over one arm and sent him back before Sansa could come looking. Jon's wife, in his first life, had liked a room full of music. He had spent too many evenings pleading work before learning that finishing one more page was seldom worth missing it. Tonight the work was safely locked away.
Theon joined the next measure with a Flint girl who had been watching beside her sisters. He bowed before offering his hand and brought her through the first crossing without the confusion at Robb's end of the line. At the turn she said something which made him glance towards Cley. Jon could not hear the answer, but she laughed, and Theon found room for another bow when the music stopped.
Robb caught him by the sleeve on his way back to the cups. "How did you know that turn?"
"I watched Wynafryd. You were looking at your feet." Theon set down his cup and took Robb through the change beside the wall. "There. Now do it before the next one begins."
Robb tried it twice. When the fiddler lifted his bow, he went back to Alys, and Theon returned to the Flint sisters rather than follow him.
Eddard had led Catelyn onto the floor. She moved with an ease which made the children's efforts look more disorderly, the sleeve of her gown passing over his wrist as they turned. Sansa watched her mother and immediately raised her chin; the line of her cheek and jaw was already like Catelyn's. Marna copied Sansa. Jon caught Robb looking at them and had to look away before he laughed again.
At the end of the tune, Wyman Manderly gave Lady Donella his arm. Men moved a bench to clear their way. For all his size, he placed his feet neatly and brought his cousin through the turn without troubling the couple beside them. Jon watched until Robb tugged him towards the cups. He was thirsty enough to drink the watered wine without tasting it.
Wylla waited near the passage with his cloak. She let him finish the next tune before calling him over. The others were still arguing about their best moments in the game as he followed her upstairs. Music reached them even after the hall doors had closed. Jon sat on the bed while she pulled off his boots, then lay back, one stocking still on, and listened to the beat growing faint beneath the floor.
The next morning Ser Rodrik sent every boy back to the barley field with spades, brushes and coiled rope. The forts were to come down before the guests left. Theon began arguing about the knot as soon as he saw it.
"I said you won, didn't I?" he said.
"Wind the boundary rope," Rodrik told him. The boys began taking the forts down. Tomas counted tools and gave them out. Smalljon and the Karstarks carried hurdles. Cley received the narrow spade he had left caked in mud.
He looked at Tomas's patched coat. "Give that to one of the field boys."
Tomas met his gaze. "You dirtied it, my lord." Lord Medger's wagons waited in the yard. By noon Cley would be a lord's son upon the road, while Tomas returned to work beneath a plain black banner most Cerwyn men had never seen.
Cley fetched the brush. "If I clean it, you admit red nearly won."
Tomas let him scrape the blade without conceding the point.
At the first bell Jon waited in the side passage while Poole's men set out breakfast for the boys who had worked the forts. He waited until the last of them went in to eat. Edden had not come.
He went to find Robb. "Edden is not here. Do you know the cooper Benfred meant?"
Robb put down his spoon. Arthur came with them to the room above the cooper's shed where Edden sometimes slept with his mother. Wet staves scented the stair. The door had no lock, only a leather loop. One rolled pallet rested against the wall. Two pegs stood bare. A cracked cup remained upon the sill. Ash had been swept from the hearth; the rushes had been gathered as though the room were being left for a landlord who might charge for dirt. The old trencher basket stood beside the door. No bread remained beneath its cloth. The cooper said the mother washed linen when work could be found and followed harvest camps when it could not. A neighbour had heard them before dawn and thought they were joining a wagon.
"Which road?" Jon asked.
The woman spread red, swollen hands. "Twenty wagons passed in the dark, my lord. Half went north and half south."
"Which wagons did you see?" Jon asked.
"One southbound cart squealed fit to wake the dead. A green tilt went north. I saw no more."
"Did she owe rent?"
"A fortnight," the cooper said. "I would have waited."
"Did she know that?" Robb asked. The man looked at the swept hearth and had no answer.
Jon left the basket beside the door. Back at the castle, he and Robb went straight to Eddard's solar, where Poole's clerk was sorting the morning's letters. Jon told Eddard of the missed meeting and the room left empty before dawn. Robb added the bare pegs and described Edden taking the banner as if that should make the rest impossible.
"He was hungry," Robb said. "We had six kinds of meat."
Eddard opened the door and called Jory. "One rider north and one south. Ask after the green tilt and the squealing wheel first, then the last camps. Find the boy and his mother if you can. Do not ride at them like thieves. Take food for them. His mother may need persuading to return."
Jory ran. "If they find him, he can stay," Robb said.
"His mother washes linen," Jon said. "My household has work for her. We can employ him too."
Eddard turned to Poole's clerk. "Ask at the washhouse for her name. Give it to the riders."
Robb rubbed at the dried mud on his cuff. "He told Benfred where he slept. I could have asked him."
"So could I."
Eddard drew the inkpot clear of Robb's muddy sleeve.
Eddard waited until the clerk had gone. "The riders will bring them back if they can be found. I will have the gate clerk send for you if either comes here."
Arthur glanced at the mud on Robb's sleeves. "Rodrik is waiting for you."
"Three hurdles," Robb said with a sigh.
"Four," Jon told him. "We still have Smalljon's to carry." They went down to the gate before returning to the field. The two riders passed the last guest wagons and divided beyond it, one north and one south.