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This was the first time Lynn had ever crossed blades with anyone in earnest, and it had gone better than he expected. At least now he had a clear sense of exactly where he stood.
As for Jon Snow—who'd been nursing some very dark thoughts—Lynn wasn't ready to deal with him yet. He left the boy under Tormund's watch.
Murderous looks were hard to prove, and a teenager wasn't going to flip the whole camp anyway. Back when Lynn was that age he'd just started high school. Might as well give Mance the courtesy and let the kid live.
The next day "Halfhand" Qhorin finally woke up.
His chainmail had stopped the two arrows meant for his chest and belly from reaching anything vital. The slash across his throat looked ugly as hell but had only caused heavy bleeding—no artery cut. The leg wound everyone thought was minor had nearly killed him instead. The direwolf bite turned septic, and the forest witch had to take everything below the knee to keep him alive.
Looked like he'd be "Broken Hand and Broken Leg" from now on.
Out of curiosity Lynn went to see him. After all, this was the prisoner he'd personally ordered taken alive—he'd only really wanted Jon Snow. Without that order the Free Folk would have carved the ranger up and eaten him raw.
The Shadow Tower man showed zero gratitude toward the person who'd saved his life.
"Son of the Stars," Qhorin said, voice flat. Blood loss and the raging infection had hollowed him out; he looked half the man he'd been.
Lynn liked speaking in that same cool tone himself, but only to stay in character. Qhorin's detachment was real.
"I heard Mance tried to turn you," Lynn said.
"Waste of breath." The Halfhand barely moved. "You should have killed me."
Lynn's mind turned. He answered calmly, "Killing you would've meant burning the corpse. Keeping you alive gives us one more sword against the Others."
Qhorin lifted the stump of his left leg an inch.
"Guess I'll just be eating your food for nothing now."
Lynn smiled. "You retrained yourself to fight left-handed after losing half your sword hand. Losing a foot isn't the end of the world. Knee's still good—easy enough to fit a wooden leg."
He changed tack.
"I've got no quarrel with the Night's Watch. Truth is I've got no quarrel with anyone except the dead and those who deserve to die. You already know the Others are back. There's no life left north of the Wall. I'm taking the Wall. Your old gods and your new ones can't stop me."
Weeping Blood let out a low, threatening hiss right on cue.
"Dragons… can't cross the Wall," Qhorin said. For the first time he turned and looked Lynn dead in the eye.
Those eyes were bottomless. Lynn had only read about stares like that. This man truly didn't give a damn about the dragon. Unlike Alfyn Crowkiller's bluster, this was real.
Lynn felt a flicker of genuine respect. First person he'd met who saw a living dragon and didn't flinch—and who could throw a century-old legend back in his face.
"That story's just one case," Lynn said casually. "Doesn't prove anything. Queen Alysanne never tried flying south from the north side. If it comes to it we can go around by Eastwatch. Not a problem."
He let the words sink in.
"You're not stupid. If the Free Folk can't cross the Wall alive, they'll cross it dead. Any smart man knows which choice to make."
"Wildlings are savages," Qhorin answered coldly. "Let them through and the North—and the rest of the realm—will never know peace again."
Lynn almost laughed. "Most of them have never even seen the Wall. There are innocent children and women among them. You don't have the right to wall them outside and leave them to die."
From the Night's Watch point of view they'd never cared about wildling lives. Thousands of years of blood had made sure of that.
"Besides, the long summer is over. Winter is coming, and one Wall won't stop the army of the dead. When the Long Night falls the sea itself will freeze. The Others will have a hundred ways across. The Wall will be useless… it only works in summer."
Qhorin's pale gray eyes shifted.
"Jon Snow said you're the best ranger since his uncle Benjen Stark—one man worth twenty…"
Lynn glanced at the stump. "Well, now it's probably nineteen. But I still need every sword that can swing."
Qhorin was quiet a moment, then cursed without heat: "Turncloak Snow… They warned me. Bastards are natural cowards."
Lynn gave a short laugh. "His acting's nowhere near as good as yours. Though yours isn't great either."
Real emotion finally crossed Qhorin's face. If he hadn't lost so much blood he might have flushed.
"I respect your courage and your willingness to die, Halfhand Qhorin. But you never should have handed a job like this to an honest kid with a conscience."
Long silence.
Lynn went on. "Mance recited the Night's Watch oath to me. You and Jon Snow look like the kind of men who actually meant it—and men like you are getting rare on the Wall these days. Once I take the Wall, the thieves, rapists, murderers, and cowards will bend the knee quick enough. I'll need you to keep the decent ones alive for me.
After that I'll keep the Free Folk in line. They'll hold the Wall and the Gift, repair the empty castles, and I'll make the Seven Kingdoms send supplies. If things go smoothly the Free Folk will stay in the New Gift and Old Gift and not push south. If Mance spoke to you honestly, you already know my plan. It's the way that spills the least living blood."
Lynn stood up.
"In a few days the host marches on the Wall. If you see sense, find a horse and fall in."
With a man as hard as Qhorin, talk only went so far. Better to lay out the facts and let him chew on them.
Five days later the main host began gathering downstream on the Milkwater.
This time Lynn had drawn up the plan himself. At his urging Mance had ditched the old wildling habit of one giant mob. The newly drilled companies would move first.
Roughly five thousand souls: a thousand Thenn warriors, several elite raider bands, Harma Dogshead's cavalry, more than three thousand clan fighters, and twenty-odd giants riding mammoths.
The clan men would serve as auxiliaries and supply train, fighting only when necessary.
Getting even that much agreement hadn't been easy. The pulled clansmen had refused at first to leave their families and head for the Wall ahead of everyone else. The Thenns had been the same. In the end Lynn had to step in personally. Even then Kassa insisted on leaving a fifth of his warriors behind to guard the rest of the clan.
Fair enough. Their people were their roots.