Tyrion remembered that cold night beneath the stars, when he had stood atop the Wall, at the edge of the world, gazing into the empty darkness beyond.
Back then, Tyrion had thought himself a solitary king at the world's end, yet also a tiny thing facing the dark. Stand on the Wall in the North, and you could feel unknown creatures hidden in the darkness. Fear brushed your spine like wind. Then, far away in the northern wilderness, a direwolf howled, and a shiver ran through his whole body.
I cannot be a fool, Tyrion told himself, looking at the courtiers and their mocking faces. He could not believe in Others and walking dead men, in such strange old tales. Even if they did exist, the Others belonged to thousands of years ago. The northern cold wind, the shadowed forests of the North, none of it meant anything special. He was already a dwarf. He could not let others take him for a fool. Most people in King's Landing would never accept the Night's Watch's claims.
"Samwell Tarly?" A sharp spike on the Iron Throne pulled Tyrion back to the present. Tyrion Lannister frowned, puzzled. "Why have I never heard that name? A man of the Reach joining the black brothers?"
Tyrion knew House Tarly. It was an ancient and renowned house, sworn to Great Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden, Warden of the South. Though House Tarly was not the most powerful house in the Reach, it stood just below the great houses. It was hard to imagine someone of such birth and family going to the Wall for no reason.
Times were not what they once had been. In the past, service on the Wall had been regarded as a mark of honor and selfless devotion to duty. Many knights, men of standing, and nobles had willingly taken the black. But ever since the Conqueror united the Seven Kingdoms, the Night's Watch had declined year by year.
Most black brothers now were recruited by wandering crows from dungeons. Joining the Night's Watch had gradually become a way to escape punishment, better suited to the dregs of Westeros than to knights. Poachers, thieves, rapists, disgraced nobles, fallen men, and bastards were all "encouraged" to take the black.
"Samwell is the eldest son of Lord Randyll Tarly, Lord Tyrion," Ser Alliser said, a rather ugly look crossing his face. "A new recruit who arrived after your visit to the Wall."
"Lord Tarly's eldest son? I had no idea the lords of the Reach were so devout in defending the Wall that they would send their firstborn sons there." Tyrion almost laughed aloud. The Night's Watch's standing differed across the kingdoms. In the North, and among some lords of the Vale, it was still respected, but in the green lands, it was far less welcome.
"The heir to a great lord, yet sent to the Wall. Lord Tarly is truly a kind-hearted man," Varys said with a smile. Naturally, Varys knew something of these matters. He had spies in every kingdom, dancing for golden dragons.
Samwell had once been the eldest son of Lord Randyll Tarly. He should have inherited rich lands, a strong castle, and a legendary two-handed greatsword. The sword was named Heartsbane, forged of Valyrian steel and passed from father to son for nearly five hundred years. But Samwell was fat, weak, and timid, utterly at odds with Randyll.
Tyrion did not think much of it. For an heir to be sent to the Wall, Randyll must have hated this son greatly indeed to come up with such a method.
"Fat Sam says he came to the Wall of his own free will, but look at his body, thick and fat. A fat man would never win Lord Randyll's love," Ser Alliser said.
"Then why do you call him Sam the Slayer?" Tyrion asked.
"I... I thought the fat boy was useless. Only Old Bear saw anything in him. Among a crowd of ruined nobles, rapists, and thieves, the fat boy could still be considered a cut above the rest. On the night the wights killed, it was Samwell who noticed something was wrong and saved Old Bear with a torch." Ser Alliser frowned, his expression deeply unnatural.
Tyrion looked at Alliser. The man was as sharp-tongued as ever. As master-at-arms of the Night's Watch, Ser Alliser's tone and contemptuous manner must make the new recruits despise him. He had once mocked Samwell as a fat pig and a woman, yet Old Bear had clearly valued the boy. The better Samwell performed, the more displeased Alliser became.
Tyrion nodded. Samwell Tarly. Though the Night's Watch was a place that did not place much weight on birth, it lacked learned men, and it lacked young men even more. It was only natural that Old Bear would care about a young man like Sam.
Does the Wall truly have such power, turning a coward brave? Tyrion thought. Still, thank the gods Old Bear is alive.
During his brief stay at Castle Black, Tyrion had rather liked Old Bear. Yet Old Bear's position was also delicate. His son Jorah served the Smith and the True Dragon Across the Narrow Sea. Though Tyrion had a good impression of him, Janos, the Gold Cloak he had sent there, might prove useful as well.
"Did your brothers kill those... ah... dead men?"
"Yes." Ser Alliser shuddered at the thought of those terrifying wights.
This was all Old Bear's stupid fault, Ser Alliser thought angrily.
"I am not joking. I was there. Those dead men truly came back to life," Ser Alliser shouted. Many Night's Watchmen had vanished while ranging beyond the Wall. They had gone looking for missing rangers and lost even more men. Waymar Royce, Benjen Stark, Jaremy Flowers, and Othor.
When Sam and the others found the bodies of the Night's Watchmen Jaremy Flowers and Othor in the Haunted Forest, both corpses were covered in mortal wounds. It was said the bodies had not rotted, and that dogs and horses refused to go near them. The black brothers had all urged that they be burned at once, but Old Bear insisted on bringing the two corpses back. Then, in the night, the corpses became wights, attacked the black brothers, and tried to kill Old Bear. Othor was raised as a wight, found Lord Commander Mormont, and tried to murder him, but the fire Samwell started stopped him.
Tyrion repeated, "You are certain? Dead beyond all doubt?" Bronn and the others nearly burst out laughing.
"They were long dead," Ser Alliser said, his voice full of anger. "The corpses were pale and cold, their hands and feet blackened. Fat Sam's torch set one corpse alight. As for the other, a black brother cut off one of its hands with Longclaw, and I brought it here."
"My good brother, where is this keepsake of yours?" Grand Maester Pycelle asked with affected dignity.
Ser Alliser frowned uneasily. "It... rotted quietly into pieces while I was waiting to be received. You ignored me, and now there is nothing left to see but bones."
The hall filled with laughter. These people had not gathered here to hear the Night's Watch speak of strange old tales, and the Night's Watch, thousands of miles away, had no proof.
"What proof do you expect me to find?" Ser Alliser said. "My witnesses are all on the Wall, and the Wall is already desperately short of men. Lord Tyrion."
"I could give you some shovels," Tyrion said. "Bury those dead men, and none of them will crawl out."
Ser Alliser's face went pale, and the hall erupted in laughter.
"Still, I will fulfill your request. I will give you more men," Tyrion said. "Ser Jacelyn, take this good brother to the city dungeons and let him choose as he likes."
Ser Jacelyn Bywater, Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks, said, "As you command, my lord. But there are hardly any men left in the cells. The suitable ones were all taken by Yoren."
"Then arrest a few more," Tyrion told him. "If that will not do, tell them there are cucumbers and bread on the Wall. I believe many will be willing to go." Tyrion thought the idea was a decent one. There were plenty in the city on the verge of starvation, and they all wanted to leave. Rather than let these poor folk cause trouble, it would be better to send them to the Wall together.
Tyrion felt suddenly hollow, so he prepared to have the herald announce the end of court. He had no time to discuss uncanny northern matters with a man in black.
Ser Alliser, however, showed no intention of leaving. He glared at Tyrion in fury. "Do you think I sailed all the way from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea just so someone like you could mock me?"
Just then, one of Pycelle's servants rushed in, bringing even darker news.
Tyrion's heart tightened. News from Dragonstone. That could only be grim.
The envelope came from the Storm and Stannis.
The letter began with two words: War.