Soon, the soldiers who had gathered around sprang into action. None dared delay once they received their instructions, and they dispersed to carry out their orders.
Several captains led their men into the castle to fetch pine-oil torches, while the craftsmen carried the copper hooks they had made and lengths of cord for the lamps into the passage. Their mingled footsteps sent a rustling series of echoes through the narrow space.
Warwick dared not linger either. He secured the writing board hanging at his waist and hurried out of the Crypt.
Before long, one of the first soldiers to enter returned through the passage and reported the conditions inside to Robb. More than ninety percent of the Masons' Passage remained intact. There had only been one heap of fallen stones half a meter high in the middle, and that had already been cleared away.
Moreover, the passage opened onto a side wall near the lowest level of the First Men's Crypt. More encouraging still, there had been no widespread collapse on that level. Only scattered rubble and water that had seeped in over the years lay across the floor, and they had found no deadly hazards.
As for Benjen himself, he was preparing to explore the lowest level. However, a great door blocked the entrance to that part of the Crypt, and they were still looking for a way inside.
After hearing the report, Robb looked toward the now-illuminated passage entrance nearby, his heart churning with an indescribable worry and a flicker of excitement.
His worry, after all, came from the possibility that whatever lay below was connected to the Others. His excitement came from knowing that this was a secret House Stark had buried for thousands of years, a legacy the First Men had left to the North. At