“The queen wants him, old man, not that it’s your concern,” the officer said, drawing a ribbon from his belt. “Here, Her Grace’s seal and warrant.” Behind the hedge, the Bull shook his head doubtfully. “Why would the queen want you, Arry?” She punched his shoulder. “Be quiet!” Yoren fingered the warrant ribbon with its blob of golden wax. “Pretty.” He spit. “Thing is, the boy’s in the Night’s Watch now. What he done back in the city don’t mean piss-all.”
