A Game of Thrones Chapter Eight

BranThe run unexp give uped at dawn. The queer wanted wild squealer at the feast tonight. Prince J dischargerey rode with his dumb name, so Robb had been onlyowed to marry the hunters as well. Uncle Benjen, Jory, Theon Greyjoy, Ser Rodrik, and until straight the queens funny inadequeat br whatever other had each(prenominal) ridden go front endward with them. It was the proceed hunt, after each(prenominal). On the morrow they left lead for the s forwardh.Bran had been left behind with Jon and the girls and Rickon. to a greater extent thanover Rickon was plainly a baby and the girls were only girls and Jon and his savage were now here(predicate) to be found. Bran did non look for him very with child(p). He sen convictionnt Jon was angry at him. Jon tickmed to be angry at of wholly timey 1 these days. Bran did non know why. He was deviation with Uncle Ben to the W both, to touch run aground the Nights Watch. That was almost as beloved as going s ste p to the foreh with the king. Robb was the one they were expiration behind, non Jon.For days, Bran could scarcely wait to be off. He was going to ride the kingsroad on a horse of his own, non a cot exactly a substantial horse. His engender would be the Hand of the poove, and they were going to live in the red stronghold at Kings Landing, the fastness the Dragonlords had built. Old grandma verbalise there were ghosts there, and dungeons where terrible things had been done, and flying lizard heads on the circumvents. It gave Bran a shiver on the nose to think of it, provided he was non afraid. How could he be afraid? His get down would be with him, and the king with all his horses and verbalize s countersignatures.Bran was going to be a horse cavalry himself someday, one of the Kingsguard. Old grandmother verbalize they were the finest swords in all the realm. in that location were only seven of them, and they wore white armor and had no wives or children, scarc ely lived only to operate the king. Bran knew all the stories. Their separates were ilk medicinal drug to him. Serwyn of the Mirror Shield. Ser Ryam Redwyne. Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. The twins Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk, who had died on one anothers swords hundreds of years ago, when brother fought child in the war the singers called the Dance of the Dragons. The White Bull, Gerold Hightower. Ser Arthur Dayne, the stigma of the Morning. Barristan the Bold.Two of the Kingsguard had come matrimony with King Robert. Bran had watched them with fascination, neer quite daring to blab come in to them. Ser Boros was a bald opus with a j beaky spunk, and Ser Meryn had droopy eyeball and a beard the color of rust. Ser Jaime Lannister looked more ilk the knights in the stories, and he was of the Kingsguard in exchangeable slicener, but Robb secure he had fling offed the old mad king and shouldnt compute eachmore. The greatest living knight was Ser Barristan Selmy, Bar ristan the Bold, the passe-partout Com humilitary personnelsder of the Kingsguard. Father had promised that they would ascertain Ser Barristan when they reached Kings Landing, and Bran had been marking the days on his fence, enthusiastic to de cleave, to go across a world he had only dreamed of and begin a life he could scarcely imagine. however now that the choke day was at hand, suddenly Bran tangle deep in thought(p). Winterfell had been the only planetary house he had ever known. His father had told him that he ought to say his fargonwells today, and he had fire. After the hunt had ridden out, he wandered with the castle with his wildcat well at his side of meat, intending to visit the ones who would be left behind, Old Nan and Gage the cook, Mikken in his smithy, Hodor the electrostaticson who smiled so such(prenominal) and overlyk business concern of his pony and neer said anything but Hodor, the man in the glassful gardens who gave him a blackberry when he came to visit . . . and it was no good. He had gone to the stable first, and seen his pony there in its stall, excerpt it wasnt his pony anymore, he was acquiring a real horse and leaving the pony behind, and all of a sudden Bran dear wanted to sit down and cry. He turned and ran off in the first place Hodor and the other stableboys could see the tears in his eyes. That was the end of his fargonwells. Instead Bran spent the morning merely in the godswood, essaying to teach his eat to fetch a foil, and failing. The wolfling was smarter than any of the hounds in his fathers kennel and Bran would fork over sworn he understood any word that was said to him, but he showed very gnomish divert in chasing sticks.He was s manger trying to decide on a name. Robb was calling his Grey Wind, because he ran so fast. Sansa had named hers Lady, and Arya named hers after some old siren queen in the songs, and wee Rickon called his Shaggydog, which Bran panorama was a pretty stupid n ame for a direwolf. Jons wolf, the white one, was Ghost. Bran wished he had thought of that first, even though his wolf wasnt white. He had tried a hundred label in the last fortnight, but no(prenominal) of them sounded right.Finally he got tired of the stick adventure and decided to go growing. He hadnt been up to the depleted tower for weeks with everything that had happened, and this magnate be his last chance.He raced pamperwise the godswood, taking the long delegacy virtually to avoid the pool where the heart tree grew. The heart tree had al directions panic-struck him trees ought not build eyes, Bran thought, or leaves that looked worry hands. His wolf came sprinting at his heels. You stay here, he told him at the base of the sentinel tree come on the armory fence. Lie down. Thats right. right a steering stayThe wolf did as he was told. Bran scratched him behind the ears, indeed turned a track, jumped, grabbed a gloomy branch, and deviceed himself up. He w as halfway up the tree, moving easily from limb to limb, when the wolf got to his feet and began to howl.Bran looked back down. His wolf fell silent, staring(a) up at him through slitted color eyes. A freaky chill went through him. He began to mountain again. Once more the wolf howled. Quiet, he yelled. Sit down. Stay. Youre worsened than Mother. The howling chased him all the way up the tree, until ultimately he jumped off onto the armory crownwork and out of sight.The crownwork bakshishs of Winterfell were Brans minute home. His stimulate often said that Bran could climb before he could walk. Bran could not call in when he first learned to walk, but he could not remember when he climb uped to climb either, so he say it moldiness be true.To a boy, Winterfell was a grey stone labyrinth of walls and towers and courtyards and burrows feast out in all directions. In the older parts of the castle, the halls slanted up and down so that you couldnt even be sure what floor you were on. The place had vainglorious over the centuries standardised some big stone tree, Maester Luwin told him once, and its branches were gnarled and thick and twisted, its root sunk deep into the earth.When he got out from under it and scrambled up near the sky, Bran could see all of Winterfell in a glance. He like the way it looked, library paste out downstairs him, only birds pealing over his head while all the life of the castle went on be wiped out(p). Bran could retinal rod for hours among the shape slight, rain-worn gargoyles that brooded over the First Keep, watching it all the men drilling with wood and brace in the yard, the cooks tending their vegetables in the glass garden, restless dogs running back and forth in the kennels, the silence of the godswood, the girls gossiping beside the wash well. It do him find oneself like he was lord of the castle, in a way even Robb would neer know.It taught him Winterfells secrets too. The builders had not even leveled the earth there were hills and valleys behind the walls of Winterfell. on that point was a covered bridge that went from the stern floor of the bell tower crosswise to the second floor of the rookery. Bran knew nearly that. And he knew you could get inside the inner wall by the south gate, climb troika floors and run all the way just about(predicate) Winterfell through a narrow tunnel in the stone, and then come out on ground level at the north gate, with a hundred feet of wall looming over you. Even Maester Luwin didnt know that, Bran was convinced.His mother was terrified that one day Bran would event off a wall and kill himself. He told her that he wouldnt, but she never believed him. Once she made him promise that he would stay on the ground. He had managed to continue that promise for almost a fortnight, worthless every day, until one night he had gone out the windowpane of his bedchamber when his brothers were fast asleep.He confessed his crime the side by side(p) day in a admit of guilt. Lord Eddard ordered him to the godswood to cleanse himself. Guards were post to see that Bran remained there alone all night to reflect on his disobedience. The future(a) morning Bran was nowhere to be seen. They finally found him fast asleep in the upper branches of the tallest sentinel in the grove.As angry as he was, his father could not help but laugh. Youre not my son, he told Bran when they fetched him down, youre a squirrel. So be it. If you must climb, then climb, but try not to let your mother see you.Bran did his best, although he did not think he ever really fooled her. Since his father would not forbid it, she turned to others. Old Nan told him a story about a bad little boy who climbed too high and was struck down by lightning, and how later on the crows came to peck out his eyes. Bran was not impressed. There were crows nests atop the broken tower, where no one ever went but him, and some durations he filled his pockets with corn before he c limbed up there and the crows ate it right out of his hand. None of them had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in pecking out his eyes.Later, Maester Luwin built a little clayware boy and dressed him in Brans turn and flung him off the wall into the yard below, to examine what would happen to Bran if he fell. That had been fun, but afterward Bran just looked at the maester and said, Im not made of clay. And anyhow, I never fall.Then for a while the guards would chase him whenever they power saw him on the roofs, and try to haul him down. That was the best time of all. It was like playing a game with his brothers, still that Bran alship canal won. None of the guards could climb half so well as Bran, not even Jory. Most of the time they never saw him anyway. People never looked up. That was another thing he want about climbing it was almost like being invisible.He want how it felt too, pulling himself up a wall stone by stone, fingers and toes digging hard into the small crevices between. He always took off his boots and went barefoot when he climbed it made him feel as if he had four hands instead of two. He liked the deep, sweet-scented ache it left in the muscles afterward. He liked the way the air tasted way up high, sweet and cold as a winter peach. He liked the birds the crows in the broken tower, the tiny little sparrows that nested in cracks between the stones, the ancient owl that slept in the dusty loft to a higher place the old armory. Bran knew them all.Most of all, he liked going places that no one else could go, and seeing the grey sprawl of Winterfell in a way that no one else ever saw it. It made the whole castle Brans secret place.His favorite haunt was the broken tower. Once it had been a watchtower, the tallest in Winterfell. A long time ago, a hundred years before even his father had been born, a lightning strike had set it afire. The top third of the structure had collapsed inward, and the tower had never been rebuilt. Somet imes his father sent ratters into the base of the tower, to clean out the nests they always found among the jumble of fallen stones and charred and rotten beams. But no one ever got up to the jagged top of the structure now except for Bran and the crows.He knew two ways to get there. You could climb straight up the side of the tower itself, but the stones were loose, the mortar that held them together long gone to ash, and Bran never liked to put his full free weight on them.The best way was to start from the godswood, shinny up the tall sentinel, and cross over the armory and the guards hall, leaping roof to roof, barefoot so the guards wouldnt hear you overhead. That brought you up to the blind side of the First Keep, the oldest part of the castle, a squat round resistance that was taller than it looked. Only rats and spiders lived there now but the old stones still made for good climbing. You could go straight up to where the gargoyles leaned out blindly over overturn space, a nd cast from gargoyle to gargoyle, hand over hand, almost to the north side. From there, if you really stretched, you could reach out and pull yourself over to the broken tower where it leaned close. The last part was the scramble up the dark stones to the eyrie, no more than ten feet, and then the crows would come round to see if youd brought any corn.Bran was moving from gargoyle to gargoyle with the ease of long habituate when he hear the voices. He was so startled he almost alienated his grip. The First Keep had been empty all his life.I do not like it, a char fair sex was saying. There was a row of windows beneath him, and the voice was afloat(p) out of the last window on this side. You should be the Hand.Gods forbid, a mans voice replied lazily. Its not an honor Id want. Theres far too frequently work involved.Bran hung, listening, suddenly afraid to go on. They might glimpse his feet if he tried to swing by.Dont you see the danger this puts us in? the womanhood said. Robert loves the man like a brother.Robert can barely take his brothers. Not that I blame him. Stannis would be enough to give anyone indigestion.Dont play the fool. Stannis and Renly are one thing, and Eddard Stark is quite another. Robert allow for listen to Stark. Damn them both. I should have insisted that he name you, but I was certain Stark would refuse him.We ought to count ourselves fortunate, the man said. The king might as easily have named one of his brothers, or even Littlefinger, gods help us. Give me true enemies rather than ambitious ones, and Ill sleep more easily by night.They were talking about Father, Bran realise. He wanted to hear more. A few more feet . . . but they would see him if he swung out in front of the window. We will have to watch him carefully, the woman said.I would sooner watch you, the man said. He sounded bored. Come back here.Lord Eddard has never taken any interest in anything that happened south of the Neck, the woman said. Never. I tell you, he means to move against us. Why else would he leave the bed of his power?A hundred reasons. Duty. Honor. He yearns to write his name large across the book of history, to get extraneous from his wife, or both. Perhaps he just wants to be warm for once in his life.His wife is Lady Arryns sister. Its a wonder Lysa was not here to greet us with her accusations.Bran looked down. There was a narrow ledge beneath the window, only a few inches wide. He tried to lower himself toward it. Too far. He would never reach.You fret too much. Lysa Arryn is a frightened cow.That frightened cow dual-lane Jon Arryns bed.If she knew anything, she would have gone to Robert before she fled Kings Landing.When he had already agreed to foster that welcome mat son of hers at Casterly Rock? I think not. She knew the boys life would be guarantor to her silence. She may grow franker now that hes honest atop the Eyrie.Mothers. The man made the word sound like a curse. I think birthing does somethin g to your minds. You are all mad. He laughed. It was a bitter sound. let Lady Arryn grow as bold as she likes. Whatever she knows, whatever she thinks she knows, she has no proof. He paused a moment. Or does she?Do you think the king will select proof? the woman said. I tell you, he loves me not.And whose fault is that, sweet sister?Bran studied the ledge. He could drop down. It was too narrow to land on, but if he could catch hold as he fell past, pull himself up . . . except that might reconcile a noise, depict them to the window. He was not sure what he was hearing, but he knew it was not meant for his ears.You are as blind as Robert, the woman was saying.If you mean I see the very(prenominal) thing, yes, the man said. I see a man who would sooner die than meander his king.He betrayed one already, or have you forgotten? the woman said. Oh, I dont renounce hes loyal to Robert, thats obvious. What happens when Robert dies and Joff takes the throne? And the sooner that comes t o pass, the safer well all be. My husband grows more restless every day. Having Stark beside him will only make him worse. Hes still in love with the sister, the savourless little dead sixteen-year-old. How long till he decides to put me aside for some new Lyanna?Bran was suddenly very frightened. He wanted nothing so much as to go back the way he had come, to find his brothers. Only what would he tell them? He had to get closer, Bran realized. He had to see who was talking.The man sighed. You should think less about the future and more about the pleasures at hand.Stop that the woman said. Bran heard the sudden slap of flesh on flesh, then the mans laughter.Bran pulled himself up, climbed over the gargoyle, crawled out onto the roof. This was the blowsy way. He travel across the roof to the next gargoyle, right above the window of the room where they were talking.All this talk is getting very tiresome, sister, the man said. Come here and be quiet.Bran sat astride the gargoyle, ri diculousened his legs around it, and swung himself around, upside down. He hung by his legs and slow stretched his head down toward the window. The world looked strange upside down. A courtyard swam light-headedly below him, its stones still wet with run snow.Bran looked in the window.Inside the room, a man and a woman were wrestling. They were both naked. Bran could not tell who they were. The mans back was to him, and his body screened the woman from view as he pushed her up against a wall.There were soft, wet sounds. Bran realized they were kissing. He watched, wide-eyed and frightened, his breath tight in his throat. The man had a hand down between her legs, and he must have been hurting her there, because the woman started to moan, low in her throat. Stop it, she said, detail it, stop it. Oh, please . . . But her voice was low and weak, and she did not push him away. Her hands hide themselves in his hair, his tangled golden hair, and pulled his face down to her breast.Bra n saw her face. Her eyes were close and her mouth was open, moaning. Her golden hair swung from side to side as her head moved back and forth, but still he recognized the queen.He must have made a noise. Suddenly her eyes opened, and she was staring right at him. She screamed.Everything happened at once then. The woman pushed the man away wildly, shouting and pointing. Bran tried to pull himself up, change shape double as he reached for the gargoyle. He was in too much of a hurry. His hand scraped uselessly across placid stone, and in his panic his legs slipped, and suddenly he was failing. There was an instant of vertigo, a dysphemistic lurch as the window flashed past. He shot out a hand, grabbed for the ledge, lost it, caught it again with his other hand. He swung against the building, hard. The strike took the breath out of him. Bran dangled, one-handed, panting.Faces appeared in the window above him.The queen. And now Bran recognized the man beside her. They looked as much alike as reflections in a mirror.He saw us, the woman said shrilly.So he did, the man said.Brans fingers started to slip. He grabbed the ledge with his other hand. Fingernails dug into unyielding stone. The man reached down. retain my hand, he said. Before you fall.Bran seized his arm and held on tight with all his strength. The man yanked him up to the ledge. What are you doing? the woman demanded.The man snub her. He was very strong. He stood Bran up on the sill. How old are you, boy?Seven, Bran said, shaking with relief. His fingers had dug deep gouges in the mans forearm. He let go sheepishly.The man looked over at the woman. The things I do for love, he said with loathing. He gave Bran a shove.Screaming, Bran went backward out the window into empty air. There was nothing to grab on to. The courtyard rushed up to accept him.Somewhere off in the distance, a wolf was howling. Crows circled the broken tower, waiting for corn.