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you have a good clean shot；〃 he said when Satin returned from waking Dick。 〃We have an ample supply up here； but ample doesn't mean inexhaustible。 And step behind a merlon to reload； don't try and hide in back of a scarecrow。 They're made of straw； an arrow will punch through them。〃 He did not bother telling Dick Follard anything。 Dick could read your lips if there was enough light and he gave a damn what you were saying； but he knew it all already。
The three of them took up positions on three sides of the round tower。
Jon hung a quiver from his belt and pulled an arrow。 The shaft was black； the fletching grey。 As he notched it to his string； he remembered something that Theon Greyjoy had once said after a hunt。 〃The boar can keep his tusks and the bear his claws；〃 he had declared； smiling that way he did。 〃There's nothing half so mortal as a grey goose feather。〃
Jon had never been half the hunter that Theon was； but he was no stranger to the longbow either。 There were dark shapes slipping around the armory； backs against the stone； but he could not see them well enough to waste an arrow。 He heard distant shouts； and saw the archers on the Tower of Guards loosing shafts at the ground。 That was too far off to concern Jon。 But when he glimpsed three shadows detach themselves from the old stables fifty yards away； he stepped up to the crenel； raised his bow； and drew。 They were running； so he led them； waiting； waiting 。 。 。
The arrow made a soft hiss as it left his string。 A moment later there was a grunt； and suddenly only two shadows were loping across the yard。 They ran all the faster； but Jon had already pulled a second arrow from his quiver。 This time he hurried the shot too much； and missed。 The wildlings were gone by the time he nocked again。 He searched for another target； and found four； rushing around the empty shell of the Lord mander's Keep。 The moonlight glimmered off their spears and axes； and the gruesome devices on their round leathern shields； skulls and bones； serpents； bear claws； twisted demonic faces。 Free folk； he knew。 The Therms carried shields of black boiled leather with bronze rims and bosses； but theirs were plain and unadorned。 These were the lighter wicker shields of raiders。
Jon pulled the goose feather back to his ear； aimed； and loosed the arrow； then nocked and drew and loosed again。 The first shaft pierced the bearclaw shield； the second one a throat。 The wildling screamed as he went down。 He heard the deep thrum of Deaf Dick's crossbow to his left； and Satin's a moment later。 〃I got one！〃 the boy cried hoarsely。 〃I got one in the chest。〃
〃Get another；〃 Jon called。
He did not have to search for targets now； only choose them。 He dropped a wildling archer as he was fitting an arrow to his string； then sent a shaft toward the axeman hacking at the door of Hardin's Tower。 That time he missed； but the arrow quivering in the oak made the wildling reconsider。 It was only as he was running off that Jon recognized Big Boil。 Half a heartbeat later； old Mully put an arrow through his leg from the roof of the Flint Barracks； and he crawled off bleeding。 That will stop him bitching about his boil； Jon thought。
When his quiver was empty； he went to get another； and moved to a different crenel； side by side with Deaf Dick Follard。 Jon got off three arrows for every bolt Deaf Dick discharged； but that was the advantage of the longbow。 The crossbow penetrated better； some insisted； but it was slow and cumbersome to reload。 He could hear the wildlings shouting to each other； and somewhere to the west a warhom blew。 The world was moonlight and shadow； and time became an endless round of notch and draw and loose。 A wildling arrow ripped through the throat of the straw sentinel beside him； but Jon Snow scarcely noticed。 Give me one clean shot at the Magnar of Thenn； he prayed to his father's gods。 The Magnar at least was a foe that he could hate。 Give me Styr。
His fingers were growing stiff and his thumb was bleeding； but still Jon notched and drew and loosed。 A gout of flame caught his eye； and he turned to see door of the mon hall afire。 It was only a few moments before the whole great timbered hall was burning。 Three…Finger Hobb and his Mole's Town helpers were safe atop the Wall； he knew； but it felt like a punch in the belly all the same。 〃JON；〃 Deaf Dick yelled in his thick voice； 〃the armory。〃 They were on the roof； he saw。 One had a torch。 Dick hopped up on the crenel for a better shot； jerked his crossbow to his shoulder； and sent a quarrel thrumming toward the torch man。 He missed。
The archer down below him didn't。
Follard never made a sound； only toppled forward headlong over the parapet。 It was a hundred feet to the yard below。 Jon heard the thump as he was peering round a straw soldier； trying to see where the arrow had e from。 Not ten feet from Deaf Dick's body； he glimpsed a leather shield； a ragged cloak； a mop of thick red hair。 Kissed by fire； he thought； lucky。 He brought his bow up； but his fingers would not part； and she was gone as suddenly as she'd appeared。 He swiveled； cursing； and loosed a shaft at the men on the armory roof instead； but he missed them as well。
By then the east stables were afire too； black smoke and wisps of burning hay pouring from the stalls。 When the roof collapsed； a flames rose up roaring； so loud they almost drowned out the warhorns of the Thenns。 Fifty of them were pounding up the kingsroad in tight column； their shields held up above their heads。 Others were swarming through the vegetable garden； across the flagstone yard； around the old dry well。 Three had hacked their way through the doors of Maester Aemon's apartments in the timber keep below the rookery； and a desperate fight was going on atop the Silent Tower； longswords against bronze axes。 None of that mattered。 The dance has moved on； he thought。
Jon hobbled across to Satin and grabbed him by the shoulder。 〃With me；〃 he shouted。 Together they moved to the north parapet； where the King's Tower looked down on the gate and Donal Noye's makeshift wall of logs and barrels and sacks of corn。 The Therms were there before them。
They wore halffielms； and had thin bronze disks sewn to their long leather shirts。 Many wielded bronze axes； though a few were chipped stone。 More had short stabbing spears with leaf …shaped heads that gleamed redly in the light from the burning stables。 They were screaming in the Old Tongue as they stormed the barricade； jabbing with their spears； swinging their bronze axes； spilling corn and blood with equal abandon while crossbow quarrels and arrows rained down on them from the archers that Donal Noye had posted on the stair。
〃What do we do？〃 Satin shouted。
〃We kill them；〃 Jon shouted back； a black arrow in his hand。
No archer could have asked for an easier shot。 The Thenns had their backs to the King's Tower as they charged the crescent； clambering over bags and barrels to reach the men in black。 Both Jon and Satin chanced to choose the same target。 He had just reached the top of the barricade when an arrow sprouted from his neck and a quarrel between his shoulder blades。 Half a heartbeat later a longsword took him in the belly and he fell back onto the man behind him。 Jon reached down to his quiver and found it empty again。 Satin was winding back his crossbow。 He left him to it and went for more arrows； but he hadn't taken more than three steps before the trap slammed open three feet in front of him。 Bloody hell； I never even heard the door break。
There was no time to think or plan or shout for help。 Jon dropped his bow； reached back over his shoulder； ripped Longclaw from its sheath； and buried the blade in the middle of the first head to pop out of the tower。 Bronze was no match for Valyrian steel。 The blow sheared right through the Thenn's helm and deep into his skull； and he went crashing back down where he'd e from。 There were more behind him； Jon knew from the shouting。 He fell back and called to Satin。 The next man to make the climb got a quarrel through his cheek。 He vanished too。 〃The oil；〃 Jon said。 Satin nodded。 Together they snatched up the thick quilted pads they'd left beside the fire； lifted the heavy kettle of boiling oil； and dumped it down the hole on the Therms below。 The shrieks were as bad as anything he had ever heard； and Satin looked as though he was going to be sick。 Jon kicked the trapdoor shut； set the heavy iron kettle on top of it； and gave the boy with the pretty face a hard shake。 〃Retch later；〃 Jon yelled。 〃e。〃
They had only been gone from the parapets for a few moments； but everything below had changed。 A dozen black brothers and a few Mole's Town men still stood atop the crates and barrels； but the wildlings were swarming over all along the crescent； pushing them back。 Jon saw one shove his spear up through Rast's belly so hard he lifted him into the air。 Young Henly was dead and Old Henly was dying； surrounded by foes。 He could see Easy spinning and slashing； laughing like a loon； his cloak flapping as he leapt from cask to cask。 A bronze axe caught him just below the knee and the laughter turned into a bubbling shriek。
〃They're breaking；〃 Satin said。
〃No；〃 said Jon； 〃they're broken。〃
It happened q