A Venturer's Wisdom
Seventh Day of the Fifth Month 293 AC
The old man drew his robe closer against the chill he had not fully gotten used to even after all the years he had served the Starks of Winterfell.
Or perhaps I'm just getting old and my knees see fit to remind me of that fact more than the rest of me, Luwin thought to himself with en edge of self-deprecation.
He would not be out here waiting out in the bailey were it any common sort of traveler who was expected to arrive. Truth be told even if the visitor were highborn Luwin would likely choose to meet him somewhere with a decent fire on a day like this. Most visiting lords were not in any hurry to meet the maester. However, the visitor they would be getting today would require a delicate touch from either him or Lord Stark, and given how the
lady of the Keep had reacted to the necessity of his visit it was best for everyone that it be Luwin, bad knees and all.
Ser Halys Wavestrider rode like a sailor he was rumored to be, which is to say only slightly more skillfully than a sack of turnips thrown over the horse's back. Still, he passed through the Hunter's Gate with a smile on his lips and friendly nods to the armsmen, mayhap a little too friendly for a knight, but then whatever else he has the man was new-come to knighthood at Lord Manderly's hand, supposedly for undertaking some perilous journey to far off realms in search of hidden lore. What sort of lore was clear from the other tales told of the good captain.
The knight pressed a sealed letter into the old man's hand as he introduced himself then waited patiently until Luwin opened and glanced over it. A writ to confirm his identity.
I would not have thought him a man to stand on that sort of formality...
As though reading his mind, which the maester admitted was not wholly beyond the realms of possibility, the traveler said: "You can never be sure with folk out on the road, especially those looking to get invited into places like this." He motioned the looming form of the First Keep. "Not all the walls are stone, but that's worth nothing if you
invite dark things in out of the cold by mistake."
For just a moment his eyes looked haunted, like one who had seen far too much of what he spoke of, but the expression was gone so quickly replaced by a polite smile that Luwin could not even be sure he had seen it.
***
"Hand of the Old Gods..." There was no doubt in the stranger's voice as he beheld little Arya Stark for the first time as she played with the yard cats. "The only way they could make it clearer is if the Heart Tree uprooted itself and started following her around like a puppy."
Luwin winced silently. He had been expecting something like this. The girl's way with beasts was
uncanny, but that did not mean he was looking forward to telling her father and especially her mother the news. Bad enough for young Robb to the learning
about magic, but to know such a young girl set on the path to becoming a sorceress, even in the service of the Gods, would not be taken well.
The old maester had some misgivings himself, though more of the practical sort. His own studies of the higher mysteries, theoretical though they had been, had required a great deal of patience and scholarship. Arya Stark, a girl not quite five namedays old and more interested in hawks and horses over lessons seemed to him to be a poor student of such matters.
To his credit Halys did not dismiss his concerns: "The gods chose her, they'll find a way to teach her that part through dream and vision most likely, or maybe she'll just remember things she's never really done before."
"That part?" Luwin prompted. "What else is there."
"When it's worth using magic and when not. How to deal with folks who don't take kindly to sorcery, though I imagine being who she is she'll have less trouble than most."
"In some ways, perhaps," the old man sighed. He knew better than most that the game the great lords played could be a cruel and vicious thing, all the more so in these troubled times.
Just then Robb and Jon sauntered out of the keep, obviously curious about the visitor, though Jon looked unusually grim, even by his usually solemn measure.
"Can you... er, show us some magic?" the heir of Winterfell asked, hastening to add, "Not that we mistrust Lord Manderly's word, we would just like to see some for ourselves. There's so many tales."
The knight looked between the boys then at Luwin in askance. At the maester's nod he began to chant in a sings-song tongue, one he recognized as the Old Speech of the First Men though he did not know the words. A wisp of darkness seemed to rise from his shadow like a spindle forming at last into a spear.
The boys looked on, impressed, though not at amazed as the maester had expected them to be given all the times they asked and even read about sorcery.
Ser Halys' smile never wavered, though his gaze grew sharper than the tip of the shadowy weapon he held.
OOC: This is the main reason why Catelyn was angry in the last interlude. Ned felt he needed to get a wizard he could trust (even if by proxy) to at least have a look at Arya and more importantly educate not just Robb but Ned himself about sorcery. 
