Chapter 159: No More Time
"What is that bloody fool thinking?"
Robb sighed.
"I don't know. I really don't. Bringing wildlings into the North…" He shook his head. "Isn't keeping them out what the Wall is supposed to do?"
Ned took the letter from him.
For a while, the only sound in the solar was the fire burning behind his desk.
He read the letter once, then returned to the beginning.
Jon had written plainly. There was no attempt to hide what he was asking. He wanted permission to discuss letting the free folk cross the Wall, under conditions that had yet to be agreed upon.
Ned rubbed his forehead.
"What does the Lord Commander say?"
"Not much. He sent a few lines with it."
Robb passed him the second parchment.
"There was something he wrote that worries me, Father."
Ned looked up.
"What?"
"Winter is coming."
The words settled between them.
Ned lowered his eyes to the parchment.
There they were, written in the Jon's hand.
"Winter is coming," he repeated quietly.
"Aye. And he knows what those words mean to us. He wouldn't use them over a few frightened raiders."
Ned read the rest.
No great explanation. No clear account of what had changed beyond the Wall. Only enough to make refusing the request outright seem less sensible than it had a moment earlier.
That irritated him almost as much as Jon's proposal.
"If there is something wrong, they should bloody well say it."
"Perhaps Jon means to."
"Then he can say it here."
Ned placed both letters upon the desk.
"Write to him. Tell him I want him in Winterfell. We will discuss this face-to-face."
Robb nodded.
"And I want Bjorn with him.Send word there as well. Have them meet on the way if it can be arranged. Otherwise, I want them both here as soon as they can come. We need our biggest ally in the North if it comes to that "
Robb hesitated.
"We need House Startos?"
Ned shook his head.
"We need our family, Robb." Ned continued "Bjorn is my nephew. Your brother. Whatever name he gives his house does not change that."
"I know, Father."
"If we even consider allowing wildlings south, some of our strongest supporters will be furious. The Umbers most of all. Their lands have suffered raids for generations. They have buried fathers, sons and daughters because men climbed that Wall."
Robb's expression grew grim.
"Greatjon won't accept it."
"Not because I sent him a letter, We need to show proper respect, regardless of everything Artos is too close to Umbers, We all know that. If Artos is close, Starks are close. He is my younger Brother for God sake and I can't have some one he considers family to be bad side of Starks."
"And Bjorn?"
"He is close to them. Especially Smalljon and He calls Greatjon his uncle."
"So he might listen."
"He might let Bjorn finish speaking before he begins shouting. That would be a useful start. And I can't have a Lone Wolf running around. We need a pack. One Lone Wolf is enough for the pack." Ned shook his head.
Robb gave a faint smile, but it disappeared quickly.
"Should I write to Uncle Artos?"
Ned leaned back.
For a moment, he considered it.
His younger brother would have an opinion.
Several, probably, followed by an argument about how Jon had learned to be so stubborn.
Then Artos would set aside whatever trouble stood before him and try to handle this one as well.
"No. Not yet."
"Wouldn't he want to know?"
"He would. And he will. But first I want to hear Jon."
Ned glanced toward the other letters on his desk.
"Artos has enough in King's Landing."
"He always says he is managing."
"I know my brother. He says that when he has slept properly, and he says it when he has been awake for two days."
Robb looked down.
"I don't want another half-explained letter reaching him and making him think he must solve this from the Red Keep," Ned continued. "But do Write to Benjen. I want him here and what he thinks of Jon's request."
"Aye, Father."
Robb reached for the letters, then stopped.
"The lords will be angry."
"Aye."
"Not only the Umbers. The Karstarks, the mountain clans… anyone who has lost kin to a raid."
"I know."
"This is not a good idea."
Ned looked at him.
"Then Jon had better have a very good reason."
Robb waited.
"If there is a need for this, we will find a way to handle it," Ned said. "But I will not decide how to settle thousands of wildlings upon northern land because my son has sent me a few pages."
Some of the tension left Robb's face.
"First, we listen to Jon," Ned continued. "Then we decide what happens."
"Aye, Father."
When Robb left, Ned picked up the Jon's letter again.
He had spent his life hearing those words.
For once, he wished someone had written something else.
KING'S LANDING
Artos sat in his solar with a cup of wine and no desire to read another report.
The reports had arrived anyway.
They lay in a growing pile beside him.
Ethan occupied the chair opposite, drinking more slowly than his lord. Outside the windows, the light was fading over the city.
"The prince is doing better," Ethan said." After the Bloody Purge of Sparrow, His reputation is better, His mood better and he is listening better."
Artos grunted.
"Good. Because I don't know what else I can do for that stupid boy. Sometimes I think all the reputation I have gained it will go to drain because of that boy. "
Ethan laughed painfully aware of it "He has eaten. Stopped asking whether every sound outside his rooms is another attack."
"That is progress."
" Well The king is pleased."
"He would be." Artos smiled " No he better be after this sacrifice of my reputation."
"Though The queen would like to gut you."
Artos laughed.
"Tell me something new."
"And the lions are not especially fond of you at present."
"Again. Something new."
Ethan smiled into his cup.
"She may send the Kingslayer to speak with you this time , My Lord. "
"Speak?"
"Depending on how angry she is."
Artos leaned back.
"Moody fuck, that one. Some days he likes me. Some days he looks as though he wants to put a sword through me."
"Perhaps he hasn't decided."
"He's had years now."
Ethan laughed.
Artos took another drink.
"Reminds me of being dragged about by girls before Seraphine. One day I was welcome. The next, I had apparently said something unforgivable."
"Before Lady Seraphine," Ethan agreed.
"Afterward, none of them got close enough to cause trouble."
"Aye. She saw to that." Artos smiling
"I remember."
"Who would have thought that girl could be so commanding?"
"Anyone who met her father."
"Valen blood," Artos said, raising his cup slightly. "She nearly pulled a sword on me once."
Ethan grinned.
"Nearly?"
"I decided not to wait and see whether she meant it."
"A wise choice."
"I have made a few."
"Not many."
Artos pointed at him.
"Careful. You still serve me."
"Fortunately, my lord. "
They laughed.
For a little while, it was easy.
Then Artos shifted in his chair, working the stiffness from his shoulder.
"Still," he said, "if Jaime truly came looking for a fight, I might be in trouble."
Ethan's smile lingered for a moment.
Then it faded.
"Really?"
Artos looked at him.
"At this moment,Aye."
There was no jape in the answer.
Ethan placed his cup down.
"You fought half a street, fucking Mountain, My Lord."
"Mountain was months ago"
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
"Then what are you saying, My Lord ?" Ethan paused." Because, ..... Because I don't really believe this "
Artos rubbed his thumb along the side of his cup.
The silence lasted long enough that Ethan leaned forward.
"My lord."
"I'm not what I was."
"None of us are. But Kingslayer beating you, I don't believe it. You beat him in a spar not long ago."
"That is not what I mean."
Ethan studied him.
Artos looked tired. That was hardly unusual. He had been tired for months. Angry petitioners, council meetings, Joffrey, the queen, the Sparrows—there was always something waiting outside his door.
Ethan had thought rest might help.
Now he was less certain.
"Are you ill?"
"I don't know what you would call it."
"Then we should bring Marwyn."
Artos shook his head.
"Not something he can mend."
"You haven't asked him."
"Ethan. To be honest I did, He is called Marwyn The Mage so I really did and he agrees with me."
The commander fell silent.
Artos put his wine aside.
"I feel weaker. Slower. Things that should come easily take more from me than they should. And The nightmares it has been a problem of long before and it's just increased"
"After the work you've been doing—"
"It began before today."
Ethan remembered the armour being fastened.
Tyrion arguing. His own attempt to delay the attack.
I don't have the time.
"That is what you meant."
Artos looked toward him.
"When you said you couldn't wait," Ethan continued. "Before we went into the city."
"Aye."
Ethan sat back.
He had disliked those words when he first heard them.
He liked them less now.
"What is happening?"
Artos stared at the untouched reports.
"I have to go somewhere."
"Where?"
"The Isle of Faces."
Ethan waited.
Artos offered nothing else.
"The island?"
"Aye."
"In the Gods Eye?"
"That is usually where people find it."
Ethan did not smile.
"What has an island got to do with this?"
Artos ran a hand across his face.
"Something I have been avoiding for too long."
"Who is there?"
No answer.
"My lord, you tell me you're weakening. You say a maester cannot help. Now you need to visit an island."
"I know how it sounds."
"Then explain it, My Lord. I am really worried now " Ethan confused and not understanding shit about the situation.
For once, Ethan did not soften the demand.
Artos looked at him, and the commander forced himself to hold his gaze.
"I cannot explain it in a way that will make sense to you," Artos said.
"Try. Please, I beg of you, My Lord."
"I have waited too long. I thought I could finish one more thing first. Put the city in order. Deal with Littlefinger. Deal with the Sparrows. There was always something else."
"And now?"
"Now I have to go. Though they are still shit to do but I do have a plan. You gotta trust me."
Ethan's hands tightened upon the arms of his chair.
"I trust you, My Lord. With my life. But Who is making you? You are stressed, My Lord. That's our Work, Winterguards that's why you made them. We work for you dirty or not."
Artos looked away.
"I don't want to anger them."
"Them?"
The word hung unanswered.
Ethan had followed this man into battles that should have killed them both. He had seen him wounded, grieving and furious.
He had never heard him speak quite like this.
"Are you in danger? Who will dare? "
Artos let out a breath.
"Not going will not make it better."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the one I have."
Ethan stood, walked a few paces and stopped.
He wanted something he could act upon. A name. A place where an enemy waited. A man he could drag into this room and force to speak plainly.
Instead, he had an island and a lord who would not explain what frightened him about delaying the journey.
"Who goes with you?" he asked at last.
"We will discuss the arrangements."
"I will arrange the escort."
"Ethan i will be alone and I don't want to discuss it anymore."
Artos watched him for a moment.
Ethan picked up his cup, thought better of it and put it down again.
"How long?"
"A month. Perhaps two. I don't know "
"The king will be furious."
"Aye."
Artos pushed himself out of the chair.
For a moment, he remained standing beside it before straightening his coat.
"Well. If we are finished, I have a very angry king to inform that his Hand is going to be unavailable."
Ethan watched him cross toward the door.
"Do you want me with you?"
Artos glanced back.
"For Robert? No. I know how to survive his shouting."
"That wasn't what I meant."
The humour left Artos's face.
He gave a small nod.
"Aye, Ethan. I know."
Ethan followed him out.
He still did not understand.
But he would follow His Lord, Like he always did.
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