He wept with pain and fear, with shame and anger, with disappointment and helplessness. But Bayaz had been right. He was a coward. So most of all he wept with relief.

Good Men, Evil Men

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Grey morning time, out in the cold, wet gardens, and the Dogman was just stood there, thinking about how things used to be better. Stood there, in the middle of that circle of brown graves, staring at the turned earth over Harding Grim. Strange, how a man who said so little could leave such a hole.

It was a long journey that Dogman had taken, the last few years, and a strange one. From nowhere to nowhere, and he'd lost a lot of friends along the way. He remembered all those men gone back to the mud. Harding Grim. Tul Duru Thunderhead. Rudd Threetrees. Forley the Weakest. And what for? Who was better off because of it? All that waste. It was enough to make a man sick to the soles of his boots. Even one who was famous for having a flat temper. All gone, and left Dogman lonely. The world was a narrower place without 'em.

He heard footsteps through the wet grass. Logen, walking up through the misty rain, breath smoking round his scarred face. Dogman remembered how happy he'd been, that night, when Logen had stepped into the firelight, still alive. It had seemed like a new beginning, then. A good moment, promising better times. Hadn't quite worked out that way. Strange, how the Dogman didn't feel so happy at the sight of Logen Ninefingers no more.

'The King o' the Northmen,' he muttered. 'The Bloody-Nine. How's the day?'

'Wet is how it is. Getting late in the year.'

'Aye. Another winter coming.' Dogman picked at the hard skin on his palm. 'They come quicker and quicker.'

'Reckon it's high time I got back to the North, eh? Calder and Scale still loose, making mischief, and the dead know what type o' trouble Dow's cooked up.'

'Aye, I daresay. High time we left.'

'I want you to stay.'

Dogman looked up. 'Eh?'

'Someone needs to talk to the Southerners, make a deal. You've always been the best man I knew for talking. Other than Bethod, maybe, but… he ain't an option now, is he?'

'What sort of a deal?'

'Might be we'll need their help. There'll be all kind o' folk in the North not too keen about the way things have gone. Folk don't want a king, or don't want this one, leastways. The Union on our side'll be a help. Wouldn't hurt if you brought some weapons back with you too, when you come.'

Dogman winced. 'Weapons, is it?'

'Better to have 'em and not want 'em, than to need 'em but—'

'I know the rest. What happened to one more fight, then we're done? What happened to making things grow?'