09/03/2026 10:34

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There was something slung over the back of his destrier, a heavy shape wrapped in a bloody cloak. Those years we spent in the Eyrie . Mord grunted and opened his thick fingers. He drew a tightly rolled paper from his sleeve and laid it on the table.

They trotted past blackened fields and burned holdfasts, down to the riverlands and the Green Fork of the Trident. He gestured with his stick. Quorin Halfhand took a captive in the depths of the Gorge, and the man swears that Mance Rayder is massing all his people in some new, secret stronghold he's found, to what end the gods only know. All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands.