A Feast for Dragons

taken off your corpses if I had not come north.”
    Jon ignored that. “I have given you fodder for your horses,
and once the stair is done I will lend you builders to restore the Nightfort. I
have even agreed to allow you to settle wildlings on the Gift, which was given
to the Night’s Watch in perpetuity.”
    “You offer me empty lands and desolations, yet deny me the
castles I require to reward my lords and bannermen.”
    “The Night’s Watch built those castles …”
    “And the Night’s Watch abandoned them.”
    “… to defend the Wall,” Jon finished stubbornly, “not
as seats for southron lords. The stones of those forts are mortared with the
blood and bones of my brothers, long dead. I cannot give them to you.”
    “Cannot or will not?” The cords in the king’s neck stood out
sharp as swords. “I offered you a name.”
    “I have a name, Your Grace.”
    “Snow. Was ever a name more ill-omened?” Stannis touched his
sword hilt. “Just who do you imagine that you are?”
    “The watcher on the walls. The sword in the darkness.”
    “Don’t prate your words at me.” Stannis drew the blade he
called Lightbringer. “
Here
is your sword in the darkness.” Light
rippled up and down the blade, now red, now yellow, now orange, painting the
king’s face in harsh, bright hues. “Even a green boy should be able to see
that. Are you blind?”
    “No, Sire. I agree these castles must be garrisoned—”
    “The boy commander agrees. How fortunate.”
    “—by the Night’s Watch.”
    “You do not have the men.”
    “Then give me men, Sire. I will provide officers for each of
the abandoned forts, seasoned commanders who know the Wall and the lands
beyond, and how best to survive the coming winter. In return for all we’ve
given you, grant me the men to fill out the garrisons. Men-at-arms,
crossbowmen, raw boys. I will even take your wounded and infirm.”
    Stannis stared at him incredulously, then gave a bark of
laughter. “You are bold enough, Snow, I grant you that, but you’re mad if you
think my men will take the black.”
    “They can wear any color cloak they choose, so long as they
obey my officers as they would your own.”
    The king was unmoved. “I have knights and lords in my
service, scions of noble Houses old in honor. They cannot be expected to serve
under poachers, peasants, and murderers.”
    Or bastards, Sire?
“Your own Hand is a
smuggler.”
    “Was a smuggler. I shortened his fingers for that. They tell
me that you are the nine-hundred-ninety-eighth man to command the Night’s
Watch, Lord Snow. What do you think the nine-hundred-ninety-ninth might say
about these castles? The sight of your head on a spike might inspire him to be
more helpful.” The king laid his bright blade down on the map, along the Wall, its
steel shimmering like sunlight on water. “You are only lord commander by my
sufferance. You would do well to remember that.”
    “I am lord commander because my brothers chose me.” There
were mornings when Jon Snow did not quite believe it himself, when he woke up
thinking surely this was some mad dream.
It’s like putting on new
clothes
, Sam had told him.
The fit feels strange at first, but
once you’ve worn them for a while you get to feeling comfortable
.
    “Alliser Thorne complains about the manner of your choosing,
and I cannot say he does not have a grievance.” The map lay between them like a
battleground, drenched by the colors of the glowing sword. “The count was done
by a
blind man
with your fat friend by his elbow. And Slynt
names you a turncloak.”
    And who would know one better than Slynt?
“A
turncloak would tell you what you wished to hear and betray you later. Your
Grace knows that I was fairly chosen. My father always said you were a just
man.”
Just but harsh
had been Lord Eddard’s exact words, but
Jon did not think it would be wise to share that.
    “Lord Eddard was no friend to me, but he was not without
some sense. He would have given me these castles.”
    Never
. “I cannot speak to what my father
might have done. I took an oath, Your Grace. The Wall is mine.”
    “For now. We will see how well you hold it.” Stannis pointed
at him. “Keep your ruins, as they mean so much to you. I promise you, though,
if any remain empty when the year is out, I will take them with your leave or
without it. And if even one should fall to the foe, your head will soon follow.
Now get out.”
    Lady Melisandre rose from her place near the