Robb nodded, but did not leave at once. A determined light burned in his young eyes as he said solemnly, "Your Majesty, Uncle Benjen, I'll send down three hundred of the strongest warriors in the North with the tools we need most. We can begin work within an hour."
Viserys added, "Keep this quiet for now. Seal off news of what's happening here in Winterfell, and bring only the soldiers you trust most. We mustn't give anyone in the North-or elsewhere-unnecessary ideas."
Benjen looked at him as well. A trace of warmth flashed through his ice-blue eyes, but vanished in an instant. "Go quickly," he said sternly, "but take care of yourself too. Winterfell still needs you. You told me last time that your wife was with child. Remember, don't make the people who love you worry."
Robb nodded solemnly, adjusted the longsword hanging at his waist, and turned with Viserys to retrace their steps. Their heavy footfalls echoed dully through the empty Crypt.
The torchlight gradually receded behind them, and the darkness deep within the Crypt closed in again, swallowing Benjen Stark's figure completely.
Just as they were about to climb the winding stone steps, Viserys glanced back. Benjen was still sitting before the statue, though his gray-white face and ice-blue eyes stood out starkly.
He sat there silently, like the ancient statues of the Starks whom time had forgotten, poised between life and death as he kept the last oath he had sworn.
Robb had already climbed a few steps when he noticed that Viserys's footsteps had stopped behind him. He slowed and looked back. Excitement still lingered on the young Stark duke's face, and the firelight fell across his profile, clearly illuminating the emotion in his eyes.
Viserys resumed climbing and lowered his voice. "Come on. The