![]() "You looked bad before I ever met you," Jon told him. "I'll be fifteen on my name day," he said. Go with him, Todder, that head wants looking after. The armorer gave the offered wrist the briefest of glances. They were brutes and bullies, without a thimble of honor between them. ![]() He hardly ever spoke ,to them, if he could help it. The other two were the ones Yoren had brought north with them, Jon remembered, rapers taken down in the Fingers. He knew Todder, a short ugly boy with an unpleasant voice. Grenn loomed over him, thick of neck and red of face, with three of his friends behind him. There was scant warmth to be found in Castle Black the walls were cold here, and the people colder. ![]() So cold, he thought, remembering the warm halls of Winterfell, where the hot waters ran through the walls like blood through a man's body. He sat on a bench, his fingers fumbling with the fastenings on his cloak. The weariness came on him suddenly, as he donned the roughspunblacks that were their everyday wear. "Keep your quarrels out of my armory, or I'll make them my quarrels. "The yard is for fighting," the armorer said. "Try." Jon reached back for his sword, but one of them grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. If they were real, he thought, they were as cruel and implacable as winter. Castle Black had no godswood, only a small sept and a drunken septon, but Jon could not find it in him to pray to any gods, old or new. If he must be alone, he would make solitude his armor. He flew at Toad, knocked him backward over a bench, and landed on his chest with both hands on his throat, slamming his head against the packed earth. There was a sudden cry of pain, and he was free. Jon twisted like an eel and slammed a heel down across the instep of the boy holding him. Maybe I had her a time or two." He laughed. "Is that your mommy's mouth, bastard? What was she, some whore? Tell us her name. ![]() "The little lordling has a mouth on him," he said. "How often must I tell you no, Jon? We'll speak when I return." Ben Stark smiled at that, but he had no smile for his nephew. One of his rangers, a big ugly man, sang a bawdy song as he saddled his garron, his breath steaming in the cold morning air. Jon rose at dawn the next day to watch his uncle leave. ![]()
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