A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time.
    They could take him back, Jon told himself, but they could not make him stay. The war would not end on the morrow, or the day after, and his friends could not watch him day and night. He would bide his time, make them think he was content to remain here … and then, when they had grown lax, he would be off again. Next time he would avoid the kingsroad. He could follow the Wall east, perhaps all the way to the sea, a longer route but a safer one. Or even west, to the mountains, and then south over the high passes. That was the wildling’s way, hard andperilous, but at least no one would follow him. He wouldn’t stray within a hundred leagues of Winterfell or the kingsroad.
    Samwell Tarly awaited them in the old stables, slumped on the ground against a bale of hay, too anxious to sleep. He rose and brushed himself off. “I … I’m glad they found you, Jon.”
    â€œI’m not,” Jon said, dismounting.
    Pyp hopped off his horse and looked at the lightening sky with disgust. “Give us a hand bedding down the horses, Sam,” the small boy said. “We have a long day before us, and no sleep to face it on, thanks to Lord Snow.”
    When day broke, Jon walked to the kitchens as he did every dawn. Three-Finger Hobb said nothing as he gave him the Old Bear’s breakfast. Today it was three brown eggs boiled hard, with fried bread and ham steak and a bowl of wrinkled plums. Jon carried the food back to the King’s Tower. He found Mormont at the window seat, writing. His raven was walking back and forth across his shoulders, muttering,
“Corn, corn, corn.”
The bird shrieked when Jon entered. “Put the food on the table,” the Old Bear said, glancing up. “I’ll have some beer.”
    Jon opened a shuttered window, took the flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon in his beer every day, and claimed that was why he still had his own teeth.
    â€œDoubtless you loved your father,” Mormont said when Jon brought him his horn. “The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember when I told you that?”
    â€œI remember,” Jon said sullenly. He did not care to talk of his father’s death, not even to Mormont.
    â€œSee that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight. Fetch me my plate. Is it ham again? So be it. You look weary. Was your moonlight ride so tiring?”
    Jon’s throat was dry. “You know?”
    â€œKnow,”
the raven echoed from Mormont’s shoulder.
“Know.”
    The Old Bear snorted. “Do you think they chose meLord Commander of the Night’s Watch because I’m dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you’d go. I told him you’d be back. I know my men … and my
boys
too. Honor set you on the kingsroad … and honor brought you back.”
    â€œMy friends brought me back,” Jon said.
    â€œDid I say it was
your
honor?” Mormont inspected his plate.
    â€œThey killed my father. Did you expect me to do nothing?”
    â€œIf truth be told, we expected you to do just as you did.” Mormont tried a plum, spit out the pit. “I ordered a watch kept over you. You were seen leaving. If your brothers had not fetched you back, you would have been taken along the way, and not by friends. Unless you have a horse with wings like a raven. Do you?”
    â€œNo.” Jon felt like a fool.
    â€œPity, we could use a horse like that.”
    Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. “I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I’m not afraid to die.”
    â€œDie!”
the raven cried.
    â€œNor live, I hope,” Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. “You have not deserted—yet. Here you stand. If we beheaded every boy who rode to Mole’s Town in the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. Yet maybe you mean to flee again on the morrow, or a fortnight from now. Is that it? Is that your hope, boy?”
    Jon kept silent.
    â€œI thought so.” Mormont peeled the shell off a boiled egg. “Your father is dead, lad. Do you