A Clash of Kings (A Song of Ice and Fire, #2)

by George R.R. Martin

Mormont rubbed his mouth thoughtfully. “Some power,” he repeated. “I must know.” “Then you must send scouts into the mountains.” “I am loath to risk more men.” “We can only die. Why else do we don these black cloaks, but to die in defense of the realm? I would send fifteen men, in three parties of five. One to probe the Milkwater, one the Skirling Pass, one to climb the Giant’s Stair. Jarman Buckwell, Thoren Smallwood, and myself to command. To learn what waits in those mountains.” “Waits,” the raven cried. “Waits.” Lord Commander Mormont sighed deep in his chest. “I see no other choice,” he conceded, “but if you do not return …” “Someone will come down out of the Frostfangs, my lord,” the ranger said. “If us, all well and good. If not, it will be Mance Rayder, and you sit square in his path. He cannot march south and leave you behind, to follow and harry his rear. He must attack. This is a strong place.” “Not that strong,” said Mormont. “Belike we shall all die, then. Our dying will buy time for our brothers on the Wall. Time to garrison the empty castles and freeze shut the gates, time to summon lords and kings to their aid, time to hone their axes and repair their catapults. Our lives will be coin well spent.”