A Feast for Dragons

gave Princess Shireen her first dance, then took a turn
with her mother. Ser Narbert danced with each of Selyse’s lady companions in
turn.
    The queen’s men outnumbered the queen’s ladies three to one,
so even the humblest serving girls were pressed into the dance. After a few
songs some black brothers remembered skills learned at the courts and castles
of their youth, before their sins had sent them to the Wall, and took the floor
as well. That old rogue Ulmer of the Kingswood proved as adept at dancing as he
was at archery, no doubt regaling his partners with his tales of the Kingswood
Brotherhood, when he rode with Simon Toyne and Big Belly Ben and helped Wenda
the White Fawn burn her mark in the buttocks of her highborn captives. Satin
was all grace, dancing with three serving girls in turn but never presuming to
approach a highborn lady. Jon judged that wise. He did not like the way some of
the queen’s knights were looking at the steward, particularly Ser Patrek of
King’s Mountain.
That one wants to shed a bit of blood
, he
thought.
He is looking for some provocation
.
    When Owen the Oaf began to dance with Patchface the fool, laughter
echoed off the vaulted ceiling. The sight made Lady Alys smile. “Do you dance
often, here at Castle Black?”
    “Every time we have a wedding, my lady.”
    “You could dance with me, you know. It would be only
courteous. You danced with me anon.”
    “Anon?” teased Jon.
    “When we were children.” She tore off a bit of bread and
threw it at him. “As you know well.”
    “My lady should dance with her husband.”
    “My Magnar is not one for dancing, I fear. If you will not
dance with me, at least pour me some of the mulled wine.”
    “As you command.” He signaled for a flagon.
    “So,” said Alys, as Jon poured, “I am now a woman wed. A
wildling husband with his own little wildling army.”
    “Free folk is what they call themselves. Most, at least. The
Thenns are a people apart, though. Very old.” Ygritte had told him that.
You
know nothing, Jon Snow
. “They come from a hidden vale at the north end
of the Frostfangs, surrounded by high peaks, and for thousands of years they’ve
had more truck with the giants than with other men. It made them different.”
    “Different,” she said, “but more like us.”
    “Aye, my lady. The Thenns have lords and laws.”
They
know how to kneel
. “They mine tin and copper for bronze, forge their
own arms and armor instead of stealing it. A proud folk, and brave. Mance Rayder
had to best the old Magnar thrice before Styr would accept him as
King-Beyond-the-Wall.”
    “And now they are here, on our side of the Wall. Driven from
their mountain fastness and into my bedchamber.” She smiled a wry smile. “It is
my own fault. My lord father told me I must charm your brother Robb, but I was
only six and didn’t know how.”
    Aye, but now you’re almost six-and-ten, and we must
pray you will know how to charm your new husband
. “My lady, how do
things stand at Karhold with your food stores?”
    “Not well.” Alys sighed. “My father took so many of our men
south with him that only the women and young boys were left to bring the
harvest in. Them, and the men too old or crippled to go off to war. Crops
withered in the fields or were pounded into the mud by autumn rains. And now
the snows are come. This winter will be hard. Few of the old people will
survive it, and many children will perish as well.”
    It was a tale that any northmen knew well. “My father’s
grandmother was a Flint of the mountains, on his mother’s side,” Jon told her.
“The First Flints, they call themselves. They say the other Flints are the
blood of younger sons, who had to leave the mountains to find food and land and
wives. It has always been a harsh life up there. When the snows fall and food
grows scarce, their young must travel to the winter town or take service at one
castle or the other. The old men gather up what strength remains in them and
announce that they are going hunting. Some are found come spring. More are
never seen again.”
    “It is much the same at Karhold.”
    That did not surprise him. “When your stores begin to
dwindle, my lady, remember us. Send your old men to the Wall, let them say our
words. Here at least they will not die alone in the snow, with only memories to
warm them. Send us boys as well, if you have boys to spare.”
    “As you say.” She touched his hand. “Karhold remembers.”
    The elk was