A Feast for Dragons

through
. He would have given much and more
to know that he was doing the right thing. But he had gone too far to turn
back. “Done and done,” he said.
    Tormund’s grip was bone-crushing. That much had not changed
about him. The beard was the same as well, though the face under that thicket
of white hair had thinned considerably, and there were deep lines graven in
those ruddy cheeks. “Mance should have killed you when he had the chance,” he
said as he did his best to turn Jon’s hand to pulp and bone. “Gold for gruel,
and boys … a cruel price. Whatever happened to that sweet lad I
knew?”
    They made him lord commander
. “A fair
bargain leaves both sides unhappy, I’ve heard it said. Three days?”
    “If I live that long. Some o’ my own will spit on me when
they hear these terms.” Tormund released Jon’s hand. “Your crows will grumble
too, if I know them. And I ought to. I have killed more o’ you black buggers than
I can count.”
    “It might be best if you did not mention that so loudly when
you come south of the Wall.”
    “Har!” Tormund laughed. That had not changed either; he
still laughed easily and often. “Wise words. I’d not want you crows to peck me to
death.” He slapped Jon’s back. “When all my folk are safe behind your Wall,
we’ll share a bit o’ meat and mead. Till then …” The wildling pulled off
the band from his left arm and tossed it at Jon, then did the same with its
twin upon his right. “Your first payment. Had those from my father and him from
his. Now they’re yours, you thieving black bastard.”
    The armbands were old gold, solid and heavy, engraved with
the ancient runes of the First Men. Tormund Giantsbane had worn them as long as
Jon had known him; they had seemed as much a part of him as his beard. “The
Braavosi will melt these down for the gold. That seems a shame. Perhaps you
ought to keep them.”
    “No. I’ll not have it said that Tormund Thunderfist made the
free folk give up their treasures whilst he kept his own.” He grinned. “But
I’ll keep the ring I wear about me member. Much bigger than those little
things. On you it’d be a torque.”
    Jon had to laugh. “You never change.”
    “Oh, I do.” The grin melted away like snow in summer. “I am
not the man I was at Ruddy Hall. Seen too much death, and worse things too. My
sons …” Grief twisted Tormund’s face. “Dormund was cut down in the battle
for the Wall, and him still half a boy. One o’ your king’s knights did for him,
some bastard all in grey steel with moths upon his shield. I saw the cut, but
my boy was dead before I reached him. And Torwynd … it was the cold
claimed him. Always sickly, that one. He just up and died one night. The worst
o’ it, before we ever knew he’d died he rose pale with them blue eyes. Had to
see to him m’self. That was hard, Jon.” Tears shone in his eyes. “He wasn’t
much of a man, truth be told, but he’d been me little boy once, and I loved
him.”
    Jon put a hand on his shoulder. “I am so sorry.”
    “Why? Weren’t your doing. There’s blood on your hands, aye,
same as mine. But not his.” Tormund shook his head. “I still have two strong
sons.”
    “Your daughter …?”
    “Munda.” That brought Tormund’s smile back. “Took that
Longspear Ryk to husband, if you believe it. Boy’s got more cock than sense,
you ask me, but he treats her well enough. I told him if he ever hurt her, I’d
yank his member off and beat him bloody with it.” He gave Jon another hearty
slap. “Time you were going back. Keep you any longer, they’re like to think we
ate you.”
    “Dawn, then. Three days from now. The boys first.”
    “I heard you the first ten times, crow. A man’d think there
was no trust between us.” He spat. “Boys first, aye. Mammoths go the long way
round. You make sure Eastwatch expects them. I’ll make sure there’s no fighting,
nor rushing at your bloody gate. Nice and orderly we’ll be, ducklings in a row.
And me the mother duck. Har!” Tormund led Jon from his tent.
    Outside the day was bright and cloudless. The sun had
returned to the sky after a fortnight’s absence, and to the south the Wall rose
blue-white and glittering. There was a saying Jon had heard from the older men
at Castle Black:
the Wall has more moods than Mad King Aerys
,
they’d say, or sometimes,
the Wall has more moods than a woman
.
On cloudy days it looked to be white rock. On moonless nights it was as