“Are you certain that you must leave us so soon?” the Lord Commander asked him.

“Past certain, Lord Mormont,” Tyrion replied. “My brother Jaime will be wondering what hasbecome of me. He may decide that you have convinced me to take the black.”

“Would that I could.” Mormont picked up a crab claw and cracked it in his fist. Old as he was, theLord Commander still had the strength of a bear. “You’re a cunning man, Tyrion. We have need ofmen of your sort on the Wall.”

Tyrion grinned. “Then I shall scour the Seven Kingdoms for dwarfs and ship them all to you, LordMormont.” As they laughed, he sucked the meat from a crab leg and reached for another. The crabshad arrived from Eastwatch only this morning, packed in a barrel of snow, and they were succulent.

Ser Alliser Thorne was the only man at table who did not so much as crack a smile. “Lannistermocks us.”

“Only you, Ser Alliser,” Tyrion said. This time the laughter round the table had a nervous,uncertain quality to it.

Thorne’s black eyes fixed on Tyrion with loathing. “You have a bold tongue for someone who isless than half a man. Perhaps you and I should visit the yard together.”

“Why?” asked Tyrion. “The crabs are here.”

The remark brought more guffaws from the others. Ser Alliser stood up, his mouth a tight line.

“Come and make your japes with steel in your hand.”

Tyrion looked pointedly at his right hand. “Why, I have steel in my hand, Ser Alliser, although itappears to be a crab fork. Shall we duel?” He hopped up on his chair and began poking at Thorne’schest with the tiny fork. Roars of laughter filled the tower room. Bits of crab flew from the LordCommander’s mouth as he began to gasp and choke. Even his raven joined in, cawing loudly fromabove the window. “Duel! Duel! Duel!”

Ser Alliser Thorne walked from the room so stiffly it looked as though he had a dagger up his butt.

Mormont was still gasping for breath. Tyrion pounded him on the back. “To the victor goes thespoils,” he called out. “I claim Thorne’s share of the crabs.”

Finally the Lord Commander recovered himself. “You are a wicked man, to provoke our SerAlliser so,” he scolded.

Tyrion seated himself and took a sip of wine. “If a man paints a target on his chest, he shouldexpect that sooner or later someone will loose an arrow at him. I have seen dead men with morehumor than your Ser Alliser.”

“Not so,” objected the Lord Steward, Bowen Marsh, a man as round and red as a pomegranate.

“You ought to hear the droll names he gives the lads he trains.”

Tyrion had heard a few of those droll names. “I’ll wager the lads have a few names for him aswell,” he said. “Chip the ice off your eyes, my good lords. Ser Alliser Thorne should be mucking outyour stables, not drilling your young warriors.”

“The Watch has no shortage of stableboys,” Lord Mormont grumbled. “That seems to be all theysend us these days. Stableboys and sneak thieves and rapers. Ser Alliser is an anointed knight, one ofthe few to take the black since I have been Lord Commander. He fought bravely at King’s Landing.”

“On the wrong side,” Ser Jaremy Rykker commented dryly. “I ought to know, I was there on thebattlements beside him. Tywin Lannister gave us a splendid choice. Take the black, or see our headson spikes before evenfall. No offense intended, Tyrion.”

“None taken, Ser Jaremy. My father is very fond of spiked heads, especially those of people whohave annoyed him in some fashion. And a face as noble as yours, well, no doubt he saw youdecorating the city wall above the King’s Gate. I think you would have looked very striking up there.”

“Thank you,” Ser Jaremy replied with a sardonic smile.

Lord Commander Mormont cleared his throat. “Sometimes I fear Ser Alliser saw you true, Tyrion.

You do mock us and our noble purpose here.”

Tyrion shrugged. “We all need to be mocked from time to time, Lord Mormont, lest we start to takeourselves too seriously. More wine, please.” He held out his cup.

As Rykker filled it for him, Bowen Marsh said, “You have a great thirst for a small man.”

“Oh, I think that Lord Tyrion is quite a large man,” Maester Aemon said from the far end of thetable. He spoke softly, yet the high officers of the Night’s Watch all fell quiet, the better to hear whatthe ancient had to say. “I think he is a giant come among us, here at the end of the world.”

Tyrion answered gently, “I’ve been called many things, my lord, but giant is seldom one of them.”

“Nonetheless,” Maester Aemon said as his clouded, milk-white eyes moved to Tyrion’s face, “Ithink it is true.”

For once, Tyrion Lannister found himself at a loss for words. He could only bow his head politelyand say, “You are too kind, Maester Aemon.”

The blind man smiled. He was a tiny thing, wrinkled and hairless, shrunken beneath the weight of ahundred years so his maester’s collar with its links of many metals hung loose about his throat. “Ihave been called many things, my lord,” he said, “but kind is seldom one of them.” This time Tyrionhimself led the laughter.

Much later, when the serious business of eating was done and the others had left, Mormont offeredTyrion a chair beside the fire and a cup of mulled spirits so strong they brought tears to his eyes. “Thekingsroad can be perilous this far north,” the Lord Commander told him as they drank.

“I have Jyck and Morrec,” Tyrion said, “and Yoren is riding south again.”

“Yoren is only one man. The Watch shall escort you as far as Winterfell,” Mormont announced ina tone that brooked no argument. “Three men should be sufficient.”

“If you insist, my lord,” Tyrion said. “You might send young Snow. He would be glad for achance to see his brothers.”

Mormont frowned through his thick grey beard. “Snow? Oh, the Stark bastard. I think not. Theyoung ones need to forget the lives they left behind them, the brothers and mothers and all that. Avisit home would only stir up feelings best left alone. I know these things. My own blood kin … mysister Maege rules Bear Island now, since my son’s dishonor. I have nieces I have never seen.” Hetook a swallow. “Besides, Jon Snow is only a boy. You shall have three strong swords, to keep yousafe.”

“I am touched by your concern, Lord Mormont.” The strong drink was making Tyrion light-headed, but not so drunk that he did not realize that the Old Bear wanted something from him. “I hopeI can repay your kindness.”

“You can,” Mormont said bluntly. “Your sister sits beside the king. Your brother is a great knight,and your father the most powerful lord in the Seven Kingdoms. Speak to them for us. Tell them of ourneed here. You have seen for yourself, my lord. The Night’s Watch is dying. Our strength is less thana thousand now. Six hundred here, two hundred in the Shadow Tower, even fewer at Eastwatch, and ascant third of those fighting men. The Wall is a hundred leagues long. Think on that. Should an attackcome, I have three men to defend each mile of wall.”

“Three and a third,” Tyrion said with a yawn.

Mormont scarcely seemed to hear him. The old man warmed his hands before the fire. “I sentBenjen Stark to search after Yohn Royce’s son, lost on his first ranging. The Royce boy was green assummer grass, yet he insisted on the honor of his own command, saying it was his due as a knight. Idid not wish to offend his lord father, so I yielded. I sent him out with two men I deemed as good asany in the Watch. More fool I.”

“Fool,” the raven agreed. Tyrion glanced up. The bird peered down at him with those beady blackeyes, ruffling its wings. “Fool,” it called again. Doubtless old Mormont would take it amiss if hethrottled the creature. A pity.

The Lord Commander took no notice of the irritating bird. “Gared was near as old as I am andlonger on the Wall,” he went on, “yet it would seem he forswore himself and fled. I should neverhave believed it, not of him, but Lord Eddard sent me his head from Winterfell. Of Royce, there is noword. One deserter and two men lost, and now Ben Stark too has gone missing.” He sighed deeply.

“Who am I to send searching after him? In two years I will be seventy. Too old and too weary forthe burden I bear, yet if I set it down, who will pick it up? Alliser Thorne? Bowen Marsh? I wouldhave to be as blind as Maester Aemon not to see what they are. The Night’s Watch has become anarmy of sullen boys and tired old men. Apart from the men at my table tonight, I have perhaps twentywho can read, and even fewer who can think, or plan, or lead. Once the Watch spent its summersbuilding, and each Lord Commander raised the Wall higher than he found it. Now it is all we can doto stay alive.”

rhave believed it, not of him, but Lord Eddard sent me his head from Winterfell. Of Royce, there is noword. One deserter and two men lost, and now Ben Stark too has gone missing.” He sighed deeply.

“Who am I to send searching after him? In two years I will be seventy. Too old and too weary forthe burden I bear, yet if I set it down, who will pick it up? Alliser Thorne? Bowen Marsh? I wouldhave to be as blind as Maester Aemon not to see what they are. The Night’s Watch has become anarmy of sullen boys and tired old men. Apart from the men at my table tonight, I have perhaps twentywho can read, and even fewer who can think, or plan, or lead. Once the Watch spent its summersbuilding, and each Lord Commander raised the Wall higher than he found it. Now it is all we can doto stay alive.”

He was in deadly earnest, Tyrion realized. He felt faintly embarrassed for the old man. LordMormont had spent a good part of his life on the Wall, and he needed to believe if those years were tohave any meaning. “I promise, the king will hear of your need,” Tyrion said gravely, “and I will speakto my father and my brother Jaime as well.” And he would. Tyrion Lannister was as good as his word.

He left the rest unsaid; that King Robert would ignore him, Lord Tywin would ask if he had takenleave of his senses, and Jaime would only laugh.

“You are a young man, Tyrion,” Mormont said. “How many winters have you seen?”

He shrugged. “Eight, nine. I misremember.”

“And all of them short.”

“As you say, my lord.” He had been born in the dead of winter, a terrible cruel one that themaesters said had lasted near three years, but Tyrion’s earliest memories were of spring.

“When I was a boy, it was said that a long summer always meant a long winter to come. Thissummer has lasted nine years, Tyrion, and a tenth will soon be upon us. Think on that.”

“When I was a boy,” Tyrion replied, “my wet nurse told me that one day, if men were good, thegods would give the world a summer without ending. Perhaps we’ve been better than we thought, andthe Great Summer is finally at hand.” He grinned.

The Lord Commander did not seem amused. “You are not fool enough to believe that, my lord.

Already the days grow shorter. There can be no mistake, Aemon has had letters from the Citadel,findings in accord with his own. The end of summer stares us in the face.” Mormont reached out andclutched Tyrion tightly by the hand. “You must make them understand. I tell you, my lord, thedarkness is coming. There are wild things in the woods, direwolves and mammoths and snow bearsthe size of aurochs, and I have seen darker shapes in my dreams.”

“In your dreams,” Tyrion echoed, thinking how badly he needed another strong drink.

Mormont was deaf to the edge in his voice. “The fisherfolk near Eastwatch have glimpsed whitewalkers on the shore.”

This time Tyrion could not hold his tongue. “The fisherfolk of Lannisport often glimpse merlings.”

“Denys Mallister writes that the mountain people are moving south, slipping past the ShadowTower in numbers greater than ever before. They are running, my lord … but running from what?”

Lord Mormont moved to the window and stared out into the night. “These are old bones, Lannister,but they have never felt a chill like this. Tell the king what I say, I pray you. Winter is coming, andwhen the Long Night falls, only the Night’s Watch will stand between the realm and the dar............