Chapter Text
The Lord Weland Reed who rode into the Inner Courtyard an hour or so after the raven flew off to return to him, was far older than the image Ned had of him. But then it had been more than ten years since he had last laid eyes on him in this life and he had never laid eyes on him in the last as an adult, so that, he supposed, was understandable. But what really struck him was how much Lord Reed and his son looked alike now that Howland was an adult. Save for a pair of thin streaks of white in the elder’s beard and more lines on his face, the two were nigh identical.
Lord Reed had come with a small escort of eight Crannogmen and one of them was leading another hobyn which had a pair of wicker panniers attached to its packsaddle as well as several bundles strapped across it. The moment they all dismounted, Ned found himself moving forward to clasp arms with Lord Reed before the man could offer a proper homage because he knew the man was leal just as his son was and he would, and had, trusted Howland with his life on more than one occasion. They all had.
“My liege….” Lord Reed said, with just a hint of chiding in his tone.
“Lord Reed. Come partake of bread and salt with me and be welcome in Winterfell.”
*** *** ***
Ned was surprised to find that the contents of one of the panniers was for him: Howland himself carried it up to Ned’s solar rather than handing it to a servant or one of their own household guards to carry.
Once in the room with the door closed, Lord Reed nodded to Howland who placed the lidded square wicker basket on Ned’s desk, careful not to disturb the papers and books that already lay scattered across it.
“You have the Greenseers among my people to thank for these arriving now,” he said. “The others on the list will come as they are copied.”
The first book that came out of the pannier, once it was divested of its leather wrap, turned out to be a primer to teach the runes used in the Old Tongue, complete with line drawings above every rune, their pronunciation and meaning in the front and further back it showed how to combine runes to form new meanings and then short sentences. The second was a book whose text mirrored itself on facing pages: transliterated Old Tongue with the matching runes below them on one side and the Common Tongue on the other. It appeared to be detailed explanations and the reason behind some rites, and when to do them. A glance through it told Ned he had not been taught any of them.
“As you know, the Old Gods do not require slavish devotion,” Howland said when he looked up. “But from time to time you may have need of their attention and these will do for that.”
“Keep these books safe,” Lord Reed said quietly. “You, your sister and brother should learn this and teach your children also.”
“And Maester Luwin,” Howland added, then when his father turned and raised an eyebrow, he added: “He did swear an oath before the Heart Tree and did seal it with his blood, Father. And his line is of the First Men.”
“Hmm. I will defer to your judgement, son,” Lord Reed agreed after a long moment. “You know well why we distrust The Citadel.”
“Firstly because they hoard knowledge,” Howland said, sounding as if he was reciting something he had learned by rote in his childhood. “Secondly because they wish to destroy what they cannot control. And Thirdly because they are working hand-in-glove with the Faith of the Seven to remove magic from the world, without which this world would no longer be livable.”
Lord Reed nodded, and turned to Ned. “‘We Remember’ is not just our House words, Lord Stark. We guard a repository. Within our halls are texts even the rest of The North have long forgotten because they were thought unnecessary by most and so when the other copies faded, they were not replaced. They may not be needed now, but they likely will be needed in the future. And it is because of this that neither maester nor septon has ever spent a night at Greywater Watch and the ravens across The North that can find us are ours, not The Citadel’s. The books we protect are copied as they need to be replaced, and we do copy them for distribution as needed. Or as requested.”
When Ned nodded to show he understood that, Lord Reed continued. “Several copyists will come and overwinter here to work in your library, Lord Stark. To refresh what has faded and to take stock of what is too damaged to repair. They need only to be fed and housed: they will bring all that is needful for their work. Howland has already sent a list of books that should be here but are missing and thought destroyed. Some of them, the oldest texts, might well have been written on birch bark rather than parchment as I could not find any records of replacement requests at all for them. I am sure that those maesters that took or destroyed them did think the texts here were the only copies. Or the only ones outside the Citadel’s own vaults. Thankfully they were wrong.”
The third and fourth books were rather more weighty tomes and the first one he picked up shocked him. *’A True And Detailed Account of The Kings of Winter, Their Conquests And Laws’?* He looked up. “This was not in the library here.”
Howland shook his head. “No. It is one of the ones that should be here, but was not.”
“With respect to your forebears, Lord Stark,” Lord Reed said. “Even before Aegon, our laws were slowly being ‘infected’ by those of the Andals. Some of the changes made sense, but most did not. And why some were adopted I cannot at all understand as they weakened the smallfolk’s connection to both The Gods and The Land.” He paused. “It may be time, now, to reverse some of those changes.”
*** *** ***
Late in the afternoon; five candlemarks after the end of dinner, when Robb, Sansa, and Aemon were supposed to be napping and Catelyn was sufficiently distracted by going over the household accounts with Vayon Poole, Ned told Willow and Gila he would watch over the children while they took some time for themselves. He gathered from their talk that the two were planning a soak in the lower baths by the laundry, since Robin, Willow’s eldest, was being kept busy ‘running errands’ which made him feel important, and Tom who was still too young even for that, had found a group of boys to run around the castle with. He had almost told the two women they were welcome to use the baths under the keep, but bit back his words because using the baths near the laundry would take them just that much longer to return.
Once they were gone, Ned let Benjen, Lyanna, the two Reeds and Maester Luwin into the nursery which suddenly seemed rather a small space. This was not at all helped by the by now almost familiar feeling of being closed off from the world. Surprisingly, despite the obvious change in the feeling of the room, Robb was happy to be cuddled by anyone, even Lord Reed who he had never met. But Sansa stared suspiciously at Lord Reed for the space of a few breaths before bursting into tears and trying to burrow into Ned’s shoulder as Howland and Luwin laid out the items Lord Reed was going to use.
“With a fully functioning heart-tree this might be easier,” Lord Reed said as he gently patted Robb’s back to settle him because he was looking over his shoulder at Sansa in clear confusion. “Or it might not.” His tone was neutral but Ned could see that Sansa’s reaction was concerning him. “But I would rather we addressed one situation at a time.”
“Lords Karstark and Umber are still here and will join us at first light,” Ned told him and got a nod. Then, somehow, between one breath and the next both Robb and Sansa were asleep, and Aemon, who Lyanna was holding facing out so he could see everything, made a surprised and almost distressed sound and glanced around at everyone before visibly relaxing when none of the adults seemed concerned. And then, a moment later, he laid his head down on his mother's shoulder and fell asleep, so Lyanna put him in the cot next to Will.
“Is that ink?” Lyanna asked when she turned to face everyone again. Howland had taken out a stoppered glass pot and was shaking it to remix the red contents before placing it next to a pair of small round brushes.
“Weirwood tree ink,” Howland replied. “Sap simmered in water with a little vinegar and oil of cloves added.”
“Cloves?” Benjen asked.
“From the Summer Isles. I’ve never seen the spice itself, just the oil, so I cannot tell you what it looks like.” Howland glanced at Lyanna. “There was some clove oil in the tower,” he told her. “But it had long become rancid in the heat. And of course I did not have any with me: I’d used it all up treating the cuts and abrasions everyone had by the time we reached Hayford. I could not find any in King’s Landing and the Lannister’s maester I spoke to sounded interested in it, but had never heard of the stuff before. Which I, frankly, found quite odd because I could see he had more than one link for healing.”
“If that maester studied herblore to a higher degree he would have been introduced to their use along with other herbs and tinctures the use of which, if provided in excessive amounts or too often would upset the humors.”
“Which you have studied.”
Luwin nodded. “I have several white-gold links for herblore as well as the links for healing and a single lead one for the identification of poisons. Cloves, if I remember correctly, are flower buds and when dried are often said to resemble a miniature ship’s nail. Clove oil is sovereign for, among many other things, killing foot fungus.”
That rather brought the conversation to an abrupt end and Howland, a slight grin on his face, finished laying out everything that his father would need.
“What about Will?” Ned asked, noticing that he had not woken up, but he was clearly breathing easily.
“He will sleep through all this, as will Aemon, now,” Lord Reed replied, then turned to Luwin. “Whatever happens, know that both Robb and Sansa will be well afterward.”
“When they were welcomed into the Faith of the Seven part of the ritual and the anointing took them off their path. This will set them back on it,” Howland explained as Lord Reed removed all of Robb’s clothing except his clout.
“Runes are meant to be incised,” Lord Reed began as he laid Robb down on the nearby table. “In stone, or wood. But they can also be painted, which is what I will do here.” Picking up one of the brushes he dipped it in the ink, carefully wiped the brush against the rim until he was happy with its point, and then painted what looked like an odd, angular ‘p’ on Robb’s forehead. “His and Sansa’s birth day rune.” He held his hand over Robb for a long moment, then dipped the brush again and drew an upward facing arrow: something like a slope-shouldered ‘T’, next to the first rune. “They were born, at least Robb was born, in the later half of the hour of the wolf. These two runes describe him. He painted an angular ‘F’ on Robb’s throat, then two facing angular ‘S’ runes, one reversed, over his heart, and right below that what looked to Ned like a lean-to or a slanted upside down ‘U’. That was followed by more of the ‘p’ and ‘T’ runes on Robb’s hands and feet.
“Have the pot ready,” Lord Reed murmured just before Robb opened his eyes and started screaming. But before Ned or anyone could react, Lord Reed had turned him over and held him over the chamber pot just in time. Robb vomited more than could possibly be in his stomach, stopped, whined, gagged, and then threw up some more. While the first time was mostly bile and undigested milk, the second was the color of old blood. And then he repeatedly dry heaved in a way that convulsed his entire body. When that stopped, Lord Reed turned him over, picked up a cloth Luwin had dampened, and carefully clear his mouth, then wiped his face, all the while murmuring reassurances. When Robb yawned and fell asleep, Lord Reed took a fresh damp cloth and carefully wiped off all the runes until they were little more than a faint shadow on Robb’s skin.
“The marks will fade by morning,” Lord Reed said, glancing up at Ned. “He should be fine from now on, but do not let anyone ‘re-welcome’ into that religion. Tomorrow, if we have successfully awakened the heart-tree, we will dedicate them both to the Old Gods and any lingering hold the Seven have over them will be broken.”
“Have you done this often?” Luwin asked as with a sniff and a slightly disgusted face Lord Reed set about changing Robb who had clearly lost control of his bowels too.
With a wry laugh Lyanna took over once Lord Reed had dropped the soiled clout into the nearby bucket, and Lord Reed, with a nod of thanks, left her to it.
“No,” he said as he washed his hands in the basin “This is the first time I have seen it with my own eyes, not just the first time I’ve attempted a purging like this, because there has not been a need, until now. But there are very old books describing this process. And The Annals tell us that when the Andals conquered an area one of the first things they did was force everyone, or at least tried to force every noble house, to convert. And that about one in ten who were so converted died within a year of a ‘disease of the bowels’. Eventually a counter, this ritual, was found. As long as they are not re-anointed and ‘rewelcomed’ they’ll be fine after this.” He glanced at Ned. “None of your future children should step foot in a sept or be left alone with a septon or septa while they are still children. If they become ill like this, send a raven immediately and I or Howland will come with all haste.”
When Robb was laid down next to him, Aemon snuggled up against him with a soft sigh.
“Now for Sansa….” Lord Reed said, and Ned handed her over.
If anything Sansa was worse. She screamed and screamed and did not throw up at all until Lord Reed held her face down over the pot and placed his right hand on her back and started chanting, his eyes closed. Whatever he was doing, it had an almost immediate effect, but Sansa dry heaved for several dozen heartbeats before she finally threw up something that was reddish-black and slimy. But when she got her breath back her cries told all of them she was ‘just’ overtired and so, once she was cleaned and re-dressed they put her down next to Robb, and Aemon, without waking up, reached out and took one of her hands and Sansa gave a sigh then and snuggled against Robb and fell asleep.
They got everything cleaned up and everyone but Ned left well before Catelyn came up to check on him
“They have been asleep this whole time,” Ned said, misliking the lie, but knowing trying to explain would turn into a bottomless hole. *I had good reason to lie to her about Aemon last time,* he reminded himself as she sat down on the bench next to him to watch the babes in companionable silence.
*** *** ***
Later in his solar, just before he retired for the night, which as the first time all evening that he had had a few minutes to himself, Ned opened up the rune primer and looked for the runes that Lord Reed had used. The other runes were all protective ones, but the ‘p’ and ‘T’ runes were ‘defensive force to make way for new beginnings’ and ‘Bravery, Justice, Honor, and Sacrifice’. And Sansa’s were the same ‘defensive force to make way for new beginnings’ plus ‘Every ending brings a new beginning: new growth must be nurtured.’ He spent more than a few minutes pondering what that could mean before he tried to work out what Aemon’s runes were.
*Born on the 28th of the 9th month: that rune means inner fire and transformation. Hour of the Warrior: a seed in fertile soil: potential for growth, and change.*
He wrote them all down to think about later and put the notes he had made and the books in the secret drawer in the desk and locked it.
*At least Robb’s makes sense when I compare it with what I remember of him in my last life,* he thought as he locked up his solar and made his way to bed. *And Sansa’s? Gods be good… I hope this does not herald too many upheavals in her life. But what does Aemon’s mean? The first may suggest his Targaryen heritage, but the second one?* He thought back of the boy he had known: the boy he had claimed was his bastard to save his life and with hindsight did not like what he saw. *Catelyn not once gave him aught but glares and the sharp side of her tongue. And I? I did nothing. Said nothing. Kept him seemingly at arm’s length to ‘keep the peace’. And so, as he grew to manhood, he kept his own counsel and grew quiet and introspective. ‘Skulking and brooding in dark corners’ Cat would mutter to me as if she had not driven him into them by her own actions.* He sighed. *This time he is acknowledged as trueborn and Lya lives. Things will be different this time. They must be.*
*** *** ***
Ned was up before dawn the next morning. For a few moments he stood there in the near darkness at the foot of the bed looking at his wife. When he was sure that she would not wake, he threw on the well worn quilted wool tunic and the warm hose he had laid out the night before and carried his boots out into the corridor where Lya and Benji joined him. Benji badly hid a smirk behind his hand seeing him leaning against the wall trying to pull on his boots, but instead of commenting Ned just led the way down, outside, and across to the Godswood.
As they passed the guest house, the other four joined them, and they all found Luwin waiting for them just inside the gates in the dim pearl-grey pre-dawn light. Ned closed the gates behind them once they were all inside.
“The ceremony for this is very simple,” Lord Reed said just loud enough that they could hear him over the morning birdsong, “Howland, and Lords Karstark and Umber, and Maester Luwin, if you are participating?” At Luwin’s nod, he continued. “I will cut the hands of the four of you and you will bleed on the roots without touching the tree. Your blood will be like the water you spill to get a water wheel to start turning or how you might have to hang on the sail of a windmill to get it started when the breeze is only enough to keep it turning, not get it started from a standstill.”
At their nods he unsheathed and presented the knife he would be using. It was, including handle, only about two hands long. The handle appeared to be weirwood, and the blade, which was shaped like a claw or a small sickle, was made of a shiny red knapped stone that was so dark as to appear black, except right along the edge.
“The blade is made of firgegot: that is ‘fire tears’ in common,” Lord Reed said. “Some call it ‘dragon glass’ but it can be found here and there where there are or once were volcanoes: the dragons did not create it. It is sharper than any metal knife or sword, but it is also far more fragile.”
“When you four have bled enough Howland will show you how to heal your wounds. Then you Starks will step forward and I will cut your off hands and you will place them on the tree. On the bark, near the face. Wherever is comfortable. Then I will do the same and when it is done our hands will be released. The Gods do not wish us dead so do not be afraid: you will be released when the tree has woken.”
“I’ll have a word with Codlin about serving organ meats and spinach for dinner for the next few days,” Luwin said. “And we should all have fortified wine, suitably spiced, later as well.”
Everything seemed to go well. None of the four even winced when the blade cut through the meaty bit just below their left thumbs and while it looked like a lot of blood to Ned, the amounts did not seem to bother any of them. Indeed, Luwin was clearly holding back a thousand questions, especially after following Howland’s quiet instructions he followed the others in plunging their hands into the cold pool and upon removing it from the water found that the injury was gone without so much as a scar to mark where it had been.
But there was no time to consider how that had happened because Lord Reed was gesturing them forward.
When Lord Reed cut his left hand, for a long moment Ned did not feel a thing even as his own bright red blood pooled in his upturned palm. It was only as he put his hand on the tree at his own shoulder-height just to the left of the face that it started to hurt and then it began as an uncomfortable pulling sensation at the wound. But where there should have been blood flowing down the bark below his hand there was none. Before he could even turn, Benjen joined him, his own hand landing not more than a span below his own. He tried to say something then, but he found he was mute, which was rather more distressing than the fact he could not move his hand or even turn his body. And then Lya was across from them, her eyes wide in surprise, her own right hand held fast by the tree as Lord Reed began to chant, and when he appeared in Ned’s line of sight, both his hands were cut and he pressed both very firmly against the bark just above the face, although he had to reach to do so.
It seemed like forever, but also only moments to Ned before he was released, and Benjen and Lya also. His mind a jumble, Ned somehow found himself with his left had thrust into the black freezing cold water and it took GreatJon to lift him bodily out of the crouch he was in, while Luwin and Rickard Karstark pulled Lyanna and Benjen away.
“Father…”
Howland’s clearly anguished whisper made Ned turn then to see Weland Reed still with his hands on the tree. His hair was now far more white than wheat colored and he was chanting, even if it was barely loud enough to count as a murmur. For a moment Ned fancied that if the older man was not murmuring he would understand what he was saying.
Suddenly Lord Reed was thrust backward hard enough that he all but flew backward to land in the cold pool with a force that sent water everywhere. When he did not immediately surface, Ned and Benjen looked at each other and then dove into the pool to bring him up.
They could see almost nothing under the water, and it was deeper than Ned would have expected, having only ever entered the warmer pools, but he was aware of Benjen passing him, going deeper, and so he followed. Lord Reed was caught fast by some tree roots and they had to fight to get him free of them. By the time they started up with him between them Ned’s lungs were burning and he was having to fight not to try to breathe. By the time they broke the surface of the pool his eyesight had narrowed alarmingly and he was only dimly aware of being dragged out onto the bank before someone started trying to make him expel the water he had not breathed in. Batting their hands away he turned to look at Lord Reed who was being tended to by both Howland and Luwin, and beyond them Benjen, who GreatJon had upside down by his feet apparently trying to get him to expel any water he had taken in all the faster.
“’M not drowning!” Benjen finally managed to get out just as Lord Reed was helped to sit up.
Weland Reed’s face was a grey that was almost the color of weirwood bark, his hair white as it lay plastered against his scalp, and for a moment, perhaps it was a trick of the light, his eyes looked red. But then he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were the mossy green they had always been.
“The Gods’ eyes have been opened,” he murmured, and tried to stand, but clearly could not, yet.
“Lets get all three of you to the baths,” Luwin said, taking charge.
It was only then that Ned realized the sun had risen: he could see it bathing the top of the weirwood tree as he was helped to his feet and it reminded him of the grove they had found on the way to Dorne. Two other things he noticed: first that all the blood spilled had disappeared and second that the face of the tree was weeping red tears, something that he knew had not happened in either life until now.
*** *** ***
Somehow he and Benjen were able to bathe and dress and make it to the hall before most of the rest of the inhabitants had come to break their fast. But from the look Catelyn was giving him, he knew he had some explaining to do for surely Lya had woken her up to get the clothing he was now wearing. About halfway through his porridge, when he usually would be considering whether to have fish or blood sausage with his eggs, Ned leaned over and murmured what he, Lya, and Benjen had agreed upon: “Benjen and I were meeting in the Godswood and I slipped and fell in and Benji got pulled in on accident trying to get me out. We ran into Lya on the way to the baths and asked her to go find us some clothing. I hope she did not have to wake you.”
"I was awake," Catelyn replied. "And beginning to wonder where you were. I could tell you were up early because your side of the bed was cold."
He said nothing of either of the Reeds as they were not there in the hall and he made a mental note to let them know what he had told his wife. *I have begun lying to her again. Not that I wish to, but how can I tell her that her religion nearly killed our children? Or that The Old Gods require a little blood, willingly given, from time to time? She would think me mad if I told her the first and she would call it evil if she knew the second, although I do not feel it is evil since it was freely given.* Although he knew the amount of blood this morning was in no-way ‘a little bit’ and he was rather worried about Howland’s father. *It was as if the tree was draining him for true, and I will want to ask about that.*
*** *** ***
When Ned looked in through the open door to Lord Reed’s chamber he heard him speaking to Howland.
“Go eat,” Weland Reed instructed his son. “Bring back some blood pudding and...and eggs, I think would go well now.” When Howland did not move his father smirked at him. “I will not die today, child,” he said, then turned toward Ned and somehow managed to lever himself up into a sitting position with a little help from Howland.
Ned could see that the older Reed’s hair was ‘less-white’ than it had been when they pulled him out of the pool, but the golden-wheat color was now faded and he still had white streaks at his temples and the thin white strips on his beard were wider now and made him look rather like a badger.
Lord Reed bowed as formally as he could to Ned. “Lord Stark I owe my life to you and your brother.”
“You restored the heart-tree, Lord Reed. There is no debt between us.”
Lord Reed slightly shook his head. “I did only what I was called upon to do. And I will tell you that if I had drowned today I would not be the first to have done so, tangled in the roots of that heart-tree. And not by accident.” He glanced at Howland. “Water too keeps the dead from rising. Remember that. But water can be frozen.” But then Lord Reed turned his attention back to Ned. “I am glad to see that the language transference worked,” he said, blandly.
Howland’s smirk just deepened Ned’s confusion. “Sorry?” he said
“We have, all three of us, been using The Old Tongues since you entered.”
“We have?” Now that he knew what he was doing the words felt odd in his mouth. “We have?” he repeated in the common tongue.
“Practice it with your siblings,” Lord Reed instructed, not deigning to change languages. “And teach it to the children: I have the feeling you will need it sooner rather than later, although for what reason I do not yet know.” He paused for a moment. “I doubt that either House Karstark or Umber knows the Old Tongue outside of a few rote phrases. So much has been lost over time even here in The North that I do not expect many others to know more than that. The re-learning of it will spread from here, but that is for the future.”
"Was the..." Ned began, but just then Lord Reed’s raven flew in through the open window and landed unceremoniously on the older man’s knees.
“Your pardon, Lord Stark. I must send word home.”
“Kraa!” the raven agreed, and made a clicking sound with its beak.
*** *** ***
“Robb and Sansa should be dedicated soon,” Howland told him once they had sent a servant off with Lord Reed’s breakfast request and had made their own way to the Godswood.
Ned was starting to understand how useful the Old Tongue was going to be. It was almost like having a secret language only a few knew, but he also understood why his friend wanted to speak with him here because they would know if anyone entered the ‘wood long before they could overhear anything. “Tonight?”
Howland shook his head. “Dawn would be better, I think. Considering what had been done to them before this, perhaps evening would be a reminder?”
“We can do it tomorrow then. And then see Rickard and GreatJon off home.”
“We too will be leaving, as soon as Luwin agrees my father is ‘well enough’, which will be far sooner than Luwin thinks. I think.”
“I’ll be sorry to see you go.”
“It is not forever. But I too have duties I have put off. My father tells me my wife has given me a daughter who I have not met, for one thing.”
“Congratulations, Howland!”
Howland let him clap him on the back with a wry grin, but then he was all business again. “One of the things I was going to discuss with you and it fair slipped my mind, is that we want to start rebuilding Moat Cailin.”
“Rebuild…. But why? It’s been a ruin for…”
“At least a thousand years. I am aware.” He paused, thinking for a few moments before he seemingly changed the subject. “One of the things you will quickly learn, I think, is that magic does not ‘die’, but rather it ebbs and flows like the sea, just over a much longer interval. These last hundred years or more we have been in an ‘ebb’ time. Perhaps ever since the doom of Valyria. The dragons are gone out of this world and no man can say if they will ever return, or when. Direwolves have not been seen south of The Wall in twice that long. No man has claimed to see a Child of the Forest or a Giant, at least none south of The Wall, in far longer than that.”
He nodded but he could hear there was more to what Howland was saying.
“Before the war, several ‘gifts’ that have long been thought lost to us re-emerged in The Neck. Greenseers, I think you know? They have green-dreams that allow them to see the future. Usually it is fleeting or confusing, but perhaps one in a hundred can see not just one future but several possible futures and direct the dreams to the point of knowing how to reach the desired future. Some, a very few, can see the past, especially if they are holding an object. Those we have had always, even if their numbers are few relative to the number of our people.”
Howland paused and Ned had the distinct impression he was almost embarrassed. “When no such gifts came to me as a boy I… ‘learned to live with it’. I still learned all that I could so that I would be a good lord of my people when my father was no more. I thought. Well. I thought wrong. Long after I was a man grown I was called to the Isle of Faces, Ned. For the two years before Harrenhal I never left the island. And when I did leave the boat I took from the island did not drop me at the village nearest the Kings Road where I had embarked from, it took me unerringly to the village docks hard by Harrenhal. And you have, I think, a fair idea what happened there. To me.”
“I do,” Ned replied, thinking of the squires beating Howland just because of how he was dressed and possibly because of his height, and of Lyanna’s revenge upon them.
“What I did not tell you, or Lya, or Benji then was why I was there at Harrenhal. And only Lya figured out I had been on the isle, before then.”
“We did not wish to pry,” Ned said, but nodded slightly when Howland gave him a reproving look.
“I was there to train, Ned. I am one of the first Greensingers to be born among my people in a very long time. And it took until I was an adult and a summons to the Isle before it awoke in me." Seeing Ned's confusion of his face, he added: "I work in wood, Ned. With plants. With trees.”
Ned realized what he was saying then. “That is how you grew the weirwood…”
“That is how I knew where to plant the seed and how I made it grow until it looked like it had been there for decades if not longer, but the Gods made it a heart-tree. And I am also now what we call a ‘green-dreamer’. The Gods give me dreams, but they are not as detailed as a Greenseer’s and sometimes they do not mean what I think they mean.”
“You dreamed of us, Howland. Of my family.”
“I did. But I did not know what it meant, not truly. Nor did I have any idea of when things would happen. Not until it was too late. In the end, the only thing I could do was go with you to Dorne. Because by then…” He shook his head. “I did not tell you, Ned, but I too saw Lya dying, or dead. Although I was not shown why. I did not know why until you told me.”
Ned nodded at that and he was grateful Howland had insisted on coming along because he would have not been able to help Lya for all that they had come earlier to the tower than they had last time.
“But there is another gift that had also emerged. Stonesingers. They work in stone the way Greensingers work with trees and plants. There are three now living in The Neck and they think they will, in time, rebuild Moat Cailin. All they need is your permission.”
“Rebuild?” Ned remembered what a ruin Moat Cailin was and could not imagine it rebuilt.
Howland tipped one hand back and forth with a shrug. “They have not yet inspected the site, just looked at the records we do have about it, but they have completed other, smaller scale, works and the principles are the same. Eventually they may run out of stones on site because, from the records, at least some of the smaller stones were ‘borrowed’ to repair the causeway from time to time, so there may come a point they may have to ask for new stones to be brought in. But they believe there is still enough there, even if buried, that they can rebuild it if not exactly as it once was. Certainly well enough so it could be garrisoned again. And held against any attackers.”
Ned wondered if Stannis would see it as a provocation or not, and that made him frown. “Tell them to do their inspections,” he said at last. “And if they can get the remaining towers rebuilt enough to be habitable then they may proceed with that. But I want to keep the visible repairs, especially repairs to the walls to a minimum until I can get the measure of our new king. I think I will know by Harvest where he stands.”
“You are going to his wedding then.”
“I cannot refuse the invitation, Howland. But I won’t stay any longer than I have to.” He thought for a little bit. “What sort of support will they need?”
“They will likely need to consult with a Master Builder: they can shape stone and raise walls, but they do not have the expertise of a Guild-certified Builder. For such a great work they will need more than just book-work and experimentation.”
“I think we are in luck there: Luwin has studied building and I know Wyman employs at least one Master Builder at White Harbor. We can see if Wyman will lend us the man and his apprentices.”
*** *** ***
The next morning, not two candlemarks before dawn, he winkled the three babes out of the nursery without anyone the wiser and handed Aemon to Lya and Robb to Benjen and carried Sansa himself, all of them carefully wrapped against the morning cold, down to the Godswood. Sansa had half-woken up when he picked her up but had snuggled against his chest and slept again until they reached the Godswood. Then she stirred and started to look around, clearly looking for Robb who was himself awake and looking around, but once they saw each other and Aemon they settled down, happily babbling to each other and waving their arms.
Ned would say one thing for Howland: neither Robb nor Sansa cried when he poked their heels and dripped only a few drops each on the tree root. Robb made a confused sound, but Sansa just looked up at Ned with an annoyed look on her face that reminded him very much of Cat when she was not happy about something.
“Hush sweetling,” he murmured into her hair. “This will set you on your path again,” When he looked into her eyes he could swear she knew more than she should. But then she heard Robb babbling at Aemon and turned to face them almost too quickly for Ned to keep hold of her.
"Now that the heart-tree is awake, I want each of you to touch the bark with their hands and Ned, you should tell The Gods their names and lineage," Howland instructed. "This is what I did not have you do with Aemon before, Lya, because I did not know what his touching the tree would do, if anything and I was being cautious."
Ned found it very odd that all three became almost solemn as they were presented, and he was half afraid the tree would toss them into the pool behind them as had happened to Lord Reed, but the tree was no different now, despite the 'tears' than it had been when he had climbed it as a boy. But as he finished speaking, a warm breeze seemed to wrap around them for a moment, a breeze that gladdened his heart, and made Aemon and Robb both clap their hands and laugh, while Sansa's response, was to smile and look up at the leaves overhead.
*** *** ***
By the time they got Robb and Sansa back to the nursery, of course, Willow and Gila were up even if Catelyn, curiously, was not, so they handed the trio off to be washed and changed and Lya and Benji went down to break their fast while Ned went to wake his wife.
All too aware of Willow and Gila bustling around, feeding the children and getting them ready for the day, Ned still slipped onto bed next to Catelyn, curling up behind her, holding her and kissing her hair until she stirred and turned to face him.
"You were up early again," she murmured, and when she kissed him, he returned it.
"I was." He glanced toward the door to the nursery where it was clear that Will was also awake, and Tom and Robin too, from the sounds of things. "We should go break our fast, love," he murmured. "Lords Karstark and Umber leave today for home. And in a few days the Reeds will also depart."
"I hope Lord Reed will soon be over his summer cold," she said. "Maester Luwin said he was 'erring on the side of caution' asking Howland's father to bide an extra day or two."
"Aye. Howland has no small knowledge of healing and they will take it in easy stages going home, I'm sure he will be fine."
*** *** ***
After breakfast, as Rickard Karstark, GreatJon Umber and their men rode out into Wintertown to travel up the Kings Road, Ned had the odd feeling that the castle was somehow ‘empty’. Or at least ‘emptier’. *Because GreatJon’s booming voice isn’t here, I suppose.*
After checking on Lord Reed who Luwin insisted should remain abed for at least another day, Ned had to attend to the usual reports and other things and it was not until dinner was over that he felt he had any free time at all.
Sitting and watching all the infants and not-quite toddlers in the fenced off area set aside for them in the hall was entertaining at least. Will was one of the older children just now being just on the edge of learning to walk. He was certainly more mobile than Robb or Sansa, and the fact that Will could pull himself up to stand using the fence around the play area seemed to frustrate Robb just a little bit. But before Robb could show he was angry about it, Ned scooped him up for a cuddle.
“He is older than you,” he told Robb, making sure his son was looking at him. “You and Sansa and Aemon will catch up in time. Just be patient.” And then he tickled Robb who laughed and had forgotten about being annoyed by the time he put him down and scooped up Sansa in her turn.
Sansa regarded him solemnly for a long moment, but then she took his finger in hers and tried to chew on it while giggling.
“Oh and that’s the way it is, is it?” he said, then winced. “Sansa, sweetling, I think you have a tooth coming in.”
*** *** ***