A Game of Thrones Chapter Sixty-four

DaenerysThe flies circlight-emitting diode Khal Drogo slowly, their wings buzzing, a low bone at the edge of hearing that filled D both with dread.The insolate was high and pitiless. fowork forcet shimme trigger-happy in waves score the stony feeling to the forecrops of low hills. A thin leaf of sweat trickled slowly amidst D eachs swollen breasts. The lone(prenominal) sounds were the steady plank of their horses hooves, the rhythmic tingle of the bells in Drogos hair, and the distant voices in arrears them.Dany watched the flies.They were as plumping as bees, gross, purplish, glistening. The Dothraki c every(prenominal)ed them riptideflies. They run shortd in marshes and stagnant pools, sucked blood from spell and horse alike, and dictated their eggs in the dead and dying. Drogo hated them. When ever so one came near him, his sight would shoot extinct quick as a striking serpent to c turn a loss nigh it. She had never come eitherplacen him miss. He would h on etime(a) the fly internal his huge fist keen-sighted e nonegh to hear its frantic buzzing. departed his fingers would tighten, and when he open(a) his hand again, the fly would be only a red smear on his palm.Now one crept across the quarter of his stallion, and the horse gave an angry flick of its tail to brush it a carriage. The others flitted about Drogo, nigher and closer. The khal did non react. His eyeball were fixed on distant browned hills, the reins large-minded in his hands. Beneath his hurtted vest, a plaster of fig leaves and caked non-white muck up covered the displease on his breast. The herbwo macrocosmpower had make it for him. Mirri Maz Duurs poultice had itched and burned, and he had torn it score six days ago, cursing her for a maegi. The mud plaster was more soothing, and the herbwowork force made him poppy wine as well. Hed been drinking it severely these past three days when it was non poppy wine, it was ferwork forceted mares milk or genus Capsicum beer.Yet he scarcely affected his food, and he thrashed and groaned in the night. Dany could soak up how drawn his reckon had become. Rhaego was restless in her breadbasket, kicking like a stallion, yet even that did non stir Drogos interest as it had. both morning her eyes found fresh lines of pain on his looking at when he woke from his troubled sleep. And now this silence. It was making her afraid. Since they had mounted up at dawn, he had severalise not a word. When she utter, she got no answer barely a grunt, and not even that much since midday.One of the bloodflies landed on the bare skin of the khals shoulder. other, circling, bear uponed devour on his neck and crept up toward his communicate. Khal Drogo s delegacyed in the saddle, bells ringing, as his stallion kept onward at a steady passinging pace.Dany pressed her heels into her silver and rode closer. My lord, she said softly. Drogo. My sun-and-stars.He did not seem to hear. The bloodfly crawled up below his drooping must(prenominal)ache and answertled on his cheek, in the crease beside his nose. Dany gasped, Drogo. Clumsily she reached over and touched his leg.Khal Drogo reeled in the saddle, canted slowly, and fell heavily from his horse. The flies scattered for a heartbeat, and then circled guts to placetle on him where he invest.No, Dany said, reining up. Heedless of her belly for once, she scrambled off her silver and ran to him.The grass beneath him was brown and dry. Drogo cried out in pain as Dany knelt beside him. His breath rattled harshly in his throat, and he looked at her without recognition. My horse, he gasped. Dany brushed the flies off his chest, smashing one as he would actualise water. His skin burned beneath her fingers.The khals bloodriders had been following just behind them. She heard Haggo shout as they galloped up. Cohollo vaulted from his horse. Blood of my blood, he said as he dropped to his knees. The other two kept to their mounts.No, Khal Drogo groaned, struggling in Danys arms. Must ride. Ride. No.He fell from his horse, Haggo said, staring down. His broad face was impassive, but his voice was leaden.You must not say that, Dany told him. We have ridden fara counsel enough today. We forget camp here.Here? Haggo looked around them. The land was brown and sere, inhospitable. This is no camping ground.It is not for a wo populace to bid us halt, said Qotho, not even a khaleesi.We camp here, Dany repeated. Haggo, tell them Khal Drogo commanded the halt. If any ask why, say to them that my time is near and I could not continue. Cohollo, select up the slaves, they must put up the khals camp down at once. QothoYou do not command me, Khaleesi, Qotho said.Find Mirri Maz Duur, she told him. The godswife would be walking among the other dearest Men, in the spacious column of slaves. Bring her to me, with her chest.Qotho glared down at her, his eyes hard as flint. The maegi. He spat. This I get out not do.You bequeat h, Dany said, or when Drogo wakes, he pass on hear why you defied me.Furious, Qotho wheeled his stallion around and galloped off in anger . . . but Dany knew he would return with Mirri Maz Duur, even so little he might like it. The slaves erected Khal Drogos tent beneath a jagged outcrop of bootleg rock whose shadow gave some residual from the heat of the afternoon sun. Even so, it was stifling under the sandsilk as Irri and Doreah helped Dany walk Drogo in spite of appearance. Thick patterned carpets had been laid down over the ground, and pillows scattered in the corners. Eroeh, the timid girl Dany had rescued outside the mud walls of the honey Men, set up a brazier. They stretched Drogo out on a woven mat. No, he muttered in the Common Tongue. No, no. It was all he said, all he seemed capable of saying.Doreah unhooked his medallion belt and stripped off his vest and leggings, eyepatch Jhiqui knelt by his feet to undo the laces of his ride sandals. Irri wanted to leave the tent flap open to let in the breeze, but Dany forbade it. She would not have any see Drogo this way, in delirium and weakness. When her khas came up, she posted them outside at guard. imbibe for no one without my leave, she told Jhogo. No one.Eroeh stared fearfully at Drogo where he lay. He suffocates, she whispered.Dany slapped her. The khal cannot die. He is the father of the stallion who mounts the world. His hair has never been cut. He shut up wears the bells his father gave him.Khaleesi, Jhiqui said, he fell from his horse.Trembling, her eyes full of sudden tears, Dany siturnine away from them. He fell from his horse It was so, she had seen it, and the bloodriders, and no doubt her handmaids and the men of her khas as well. And how many more? They could not keep it secret, and Dany knew what that meant. A khal who could not ride could not rule, and Drogo had fallen from his horse.We must bathe him, she said stubbornly. She must not allow herself to despair. Irri, have t he tub brought at once. Doreah, Eroeh, find water, unruffled water, hes so hot. He was a fire in human skin.The slaves set up the heavy copper tub in the corner of the tent. When Doreah brought the startle jar of water, Dany wet a length of silk to lay across Drogos brow, over the burning skin. His eyes looked at her, but he did not see. When his lips opened, no words escaped them, only a moan. Where is Mirri Maz Duur? she demanded, her patience rubbed raw with fear.Qotho go out find her, Irri said.Her handmaids filled the tub with tepid water that stank of sulfur, sweetening it with jars of acid oil and handfuls of crushed mint leaves. While the bath was being prepared, Dany knelt awkwardly beside her lord husband, her belly great with their child within. She undid his braid with anxious fingers, as she had on the night hed taken her for the first time, beneath the stars. His bells she laid past carefully, one by one. He would want them again when he was well, she told herself .A breath of air entered the tent as Aggo poked his head through the silk. Khaleesi, he said, the Andal is come, and begs leave to enter.The Andal was what the Dothraki called Ser Jorah. Yes, she said, rising clumsily, s shutdown him in. She self-relianceed the cuthorse. He would know what to do if anyone did.Ser Jorah Mormont ducked through the door flap and waited a moment for his eyes to discipline to the dimness. In the fierce heat of the south, he wore loose trousers of mottled sandsilk and open-toed riding sandals that laced up to his knee. His scabbard hung from a twisted horsehair belt. Under a dog-tired white vest, he was bare-chested, skin reddened by the sun. Talk goes from mouth to ear, all over the khalasar, he said. It is said Khal Drogo fell from his horse.Help him, Dany pleaded. For the pick out you say you bear me, help him now.The gentle knelt beside her. He looked at Drogo capacious and hard, and then at Dany. Send your maids away.Wordlessly, her throat t ight with fear, Dany made a gesture. Irri herded the other girls from the tent.When they were alone, Ser Jorah pull his dagger. Deftly, with a delicacy surprising in much(prenominal) a big man, he began to scrape away the calamitous leaves and desiccate blue mud from Drogos chest. The plaster had caked hard as the mud walls of the Lamb Men, and like those walls it cracked easily. Ser Jorah broke the dry mud with his knife, pried the chunks from the flesh, peeled off the leaves one by one. A foul, sweet smell rose from the wound, so rich it almost choked her. The leaves were crusted with blood and pus, Drogos breast gruesome and glistening with corruption.No, Dany whispered as tears ran down her cheeks. No, please, gods hear me, no.Khal Drogo thrashed, fighting some unseen enemy. Black blood ran slow and thick from his open wound.Your khal is good as dead, Princess.No, he cant die, he mustnt, it was only a cut. Dany excessivelyk his large callused hand in her own small ones, an d held it tight between them. I pass on not let him die . . . Ser Jorah gave a savage laugh. Khaleesi or queen, that command is beyond your power. Save your tears, child. Weep for him tomorrow, or a year from now. We do not have time for grief. We must go, and quickly, to begin with he dies.Dany was lost. Go? Where should we go?Asshai, I would say. It lies far to the south, at the end of the known world, yet men say it is a great port. We bequeath find a ship to take us bet on to Pentos. It depart be a hard journey, make no mistake. Do you trust your khas? Will they come with us?Khal Drogo commanded them to keep me safe, Dany replied uncertainly, but if he dies . . . She touched the swell of her belly. I taket understand. Why should we flee? I am khaleesi. I carry Drogos heir. He will be khal after Drogo . . . Ser Jorah frowned. Princess, hear me. The Dothraki will not follow a suckling child. Drogos strength was what they bowed to, and only that. When he is gone, Jhaqo and Pono and the other kos will fight for his place, and this khalasar will eat up itself. The winner will want no more rivals. The boy will be taken from your breast the moment he is born. They will sanctify him to the dogs . . . Dany hugged herself. But why? she cried plaintively. Why should they kill a little youngster?He is Drogos password, and the crones say he will be the stallion who mounts the world. It was prophesied. break down to kill the child than to risk his fury when he grows to manhood.The child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. Dany remembered the story Viserys had told her, of what the Usurpers dogs had done to Rhaegars children. His son had been a babe as well, yet they had ripped him from his mothers breast and dashed his head against a wall. That was the way of men. They must not hurt my son she cried. I will score my khas to keep him safe, and Drogos bloodriders willSer Jorah held her by the shoulders. A bloodrider dies with his khal. You know that, chi ld. They will take you to Vaes Dothrak, to the crones, that is the last duty they owe him in life . . . when it is done, they will roast Drogo in the night lands.Dany did not want to go back to Vaes Dothrak and live the rest of her life among those terrible old women, yet she knew that the knight spoke the truth. Drogo had been more than her sun-and-stars he had been the shield that kept her safe. I will not leave him, she said stubbornly, miserably. She took his hand again. I will not.A stir at the tent flap made Dany turn her head. Mirri Maz Duur entered, bowing low. years on the march, trailing behind the khalasar, had left her limping and haggard, with blistered and bleeding feet and hollows under her eyes. Behind her came Qotho and Haggo, carrying the godswifes chest between them. When the bloodriders caught sight of Drogos wound, the chest slipped from Haggos fingers and crashed to the floor of the tent, and Qotho swore an feller so foul it seared the air.Mirri Maz Duur st udied Drogo, her face still and dead. The wound has festered.This is your work, maegi, Qotho said. Haggo laid his fist across Mirris cheek with a meaty feel that drove her to the ground. Then he kicked her where she lay.Stop it Dany screamed.Qotho pulled Haggo away, saying, Kicks are too tender-hearted for a maegi. Take her outside. We will stake her to the earth, to be the mount of every passing man. And when they are done with her, the dogs will use her as well. Weasels will tear out her entrails and carrion crows feast upon her eyes. The flies off the river shall lay their eggs in her womb and drink pus from the ruins of her breasts . . . He turn over iron-hard fingers into the soft, wobbly flesh under the godswifes arm and hauled her to her feet.No, Dany said. I will not have her harmed.Qothos lips skinned back from his crooked brown teeth in a terrible mockery of a smile. No? You say me no? Better you should pray that we do not stake you out beside your maegi. You did this, as much as the other.Ser Jorah stepped between them, loosening his longsword in its scabbard. Rein in your tongue, bloodrider. The princess is still your khaleesi. lonesome(prenominal) while the blood-of-my-blood still lives, Qotho told the knight. When he dies, she is nothing.Dany entangle a tightness inside her. Before I was khaleesi, I was the blood of the dragon. Ser Jorah, surface my khas.No, said Qotho. We will go. For now . . . Khaleesi. Haggo followed him from the tent, scowling.That one means you no good, Princess, Mormont said. The Dothraki say a man and his bloodriders share one life, and Qotho sees it ending. A dead man is beyond fear.No one has died, Dany said. Ser Jorah, I may have bespeak of your blade. Best go don your armor. She was more frightened than she dared admit, even to herself.The knight bowed. As you say. He strode from the tent. Dany turned back to Mirri Maz Duur. The womans eyes were wary. So you have surrenderd me once more.And now you must save him, Dany said. Please . . . You do not ask a slave, Mirri replied sharply, you tell her. She went to Drogo burning on his mat, and gazed long at his wound. Ask or tell, it makes no matter. He is beyond a healers skills. The khals eyes were closed. She opened one with her fingers. He has been dulling the hurt with milk of the poppy.Yes, Dany admitted.I made him a poultice of firepod and sting-me-not and bound it in a lambskin.It burned, he said. He tore it off. The herbwomen made him a new one, wet and soothing.It burned, yes. on that point is great healing magic in fire, even your hairless men know that.Make him another poultice, Dany begged. This time I will make certain he wears it.The time for that is past, my lady, Mirri said. All I can do now is ease the blueish road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands. He will be gone by morning.Her words were a knife through Danys breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe p lace, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all . . . No, she pleaded. Save him, and I will free you, I aver it. You must know a way . . . some magic, some . . . Mirri Maz Duur sat back on her heels and studied Daenerys through eyes as baleful as night. on that point is a spell. Her voice was quiet, scarcely more than a whisper. But it is hard, lady, and dark. Some would say that death is cleaner. I learned the way in Asshai, and paid dear for the lesson. My teacher was a bloodmage from the Shadow Lands.Dany went unwarmed all over. Then you truly are a maegi . . . Am I? Mirri Maz Duur smiled. Only a maegi can save your rider now, Silver Lady.Is there no other way?No other.Khal Drogo gave a shuddering gasp.Do it, Dany blurted. She must not be afraid she was the blood of the dragon. Save him.There is a worth, the godswife warned her.Youll have coin, horses, whatever you like.It is not a matter of gold or horses. This is bloodmagic, lady . Only death may pay for life.Death? Dany masked her arms around herself protectively, rocked back and forth on her heels. My death? She told herself she would die for him, if she must. She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.No, Mirri Maz Duur promised. non your death, Khaleesi.Dany trembled with relief. Do it.The maegi nodded solemnly. As you speak, so it shall be done. Call your servants.Khal Drogo writhed feebly as Rakharo and Quaro lowered him into the bath. No, he muttered, no. Must ride. Once in the water, all the strength seemed to leak out of him.Bring his horse, Mirri Maz Duur commanded, and so it was done. Jhogo led the great red stallion into the tent. When the animal caught the scent of death, he screamed and reared, whorl his eyes. It took three men to subdue him.What do you mean to do? Dany asked her.We pick up the blood, Mirri answered. That is the way.Jhogo edged back, his hand on his arakh. H e was a youth of sixteen years, whip-thin, fearless, quick to laugh, with the faint shadow of his first mustachio on his upper lip. He fell to his knees before her. Khaleesi, he pleaded, you must not do this thing. Let me kill this maegi.Kill her and you kill your khal, Dany said.This is bloodmagic, he said. It is forbidden.I am khaleesi, and I say it is not forbidden. In Vaes Dothrak, Khal Drogo slew a stallion and I ate his heart, to give our son strength and courage. This is the same. The same.The stallion kicked and reared as Rakharo, Quaro, and Aggo pulled him close to the tub where the khal floated like one already dead, pus and blood seeping from his wound to stain the bath irrigate. Mirri Maz Duur chanted words in a tongue that Dany did not know, and a knife appeared in her hand. Dany never adage where it came from. It looked old hammered red bronze, leaf-shaped, its blade covered with ancient glyphs. The maegi drew it across the stallions throat, under the noble head, and the horse screamed and shuddered as the blood poured out of him in a red rush. He would have collapsed, but the men of her khas held him up. Strength of the mount, go into the rider, Mirri sang as horse blood swirled into the waters of Drogos bath. Strength of the beast, go into the man.Jhogo looked terrified as he struggled with the stallions weight, afraid to touch the dead flesh, yet afraid to let go as well. Only a horse, Dany sight. If she could buy Drogos life with the death of a horse, she would pay a thousand times over.When they let the stallion fall, the bath was a dark red, and nothing showed of Drogo but his face. Mirri Maz Duur had no use for the carcass. Burn it, Dany told them. It was what they did, she knew. When a man died, his mount was killed and placed beneath him on the funeral pyre, to carry him to the night lands. The men of her khas dragged the carcass from the tent. The blood had gone everywhere. Even the sandsilk walls were spotted with red, and the rugs underfoot were black and wet.Braziers were lit. Mirri Maz Duur tossed a red powder onto the coals. It gave the smoke a spicy scent, a pleasant enough smell, yet Eroeh fled sobbing, and Dany was filled with fear. But she had gone too far to turn back now. She sent her handmaids away. Go with them, Silver Lady, Mirri Maz Duur told her.I will stay, Dany said. The man took me under the stars and gave life to the child inside me. I will not leave him.You must. Once I begin to sing, no one must enter this tent. My song will wake powers old and dark. The dead will dance here this night. No living man must look on them.Dany bowed her head, helpless. No one will enter. She bent over the tub, over Drogo in his bath of blood, and kissed him lightly on the brow. Bring him back to me, she whispered to Mirri Maz Duur before she fled.Outside, the sun was low on the horizon, the sky a bruised red. The khalasar had made camp. Tents and sleeping mats were scattered as far as the eye could see. A hot wind blew. Jhogo and Aggo were digging a firepit to burn the dead stallion. A clustering had gathered to stare at Dany with hard black eyes, their faces like masks of beaten copper. She saw Ser Jorah Mormont, wearing billet and leather now, sweat beading on his broad, balding forehead. He pushed his way through the Dothraki to Danys side. When he saw the scarlet footprints her boots had left on the ground, the ruse seemed to drain from his face. What have you done, you little fool? he asked hoarsely.I had to save him.We could have fled, he said. I would have seen you safe to Asshai, Princess. There was no need . . . Am I truly your princess? she asked him.You know you are, gods save us both.Then help me now.Ser Jorah grimaced. Would that I knew how.Mirri Maz Duurs voice rose to a high, ululating whimper that sent a shiver down Danys back. Some of the Dothraki began to mutter and back away. The tent was aglow with the light of braziers within. Through the blood-spattered sandsilk , she glimpsed shadows moving.Mirri Maz Duur was dancing, and not alone.Dany saw tender fear on the faces of the Dothraki. This must not be, Qotho thundered.She had not seen the bloodrider return. Haggo and Cohollo were with him. They had brought the hairless men, the eunuchs who mend with knife and needle and fire.This will be, Dany replied.Maegi, Haggo growled. And old CoholloCohollo who had bound his life to Drogos on the day of his birth, Cohollo who had always been kind to herCohollo spat full in her face.You will die, maegi, Qotho promised, but the other must die first. He drew his arakh and made for the tent.No, she shouted, you mustnt. She caught him by the shoulder, but Qotho shoved her aside. Dany fell to her knees, crossing her arms over her belly to protect the child within. Stop him, she commanded her khas, kill him.Rakharo and Quaro stood beside the tent flap. Quaro took a step forward, reaching for the handle of his whip, but Qotho spun graceful as a dancer, the v eer arakh rising. It caught Quaro low under the arm, the bright sharp steel biting up through leather and skin, through muscle and rib bone. Blood fountained as the young rider reeled backward, gasping.Qotho wrenched the blade free. Horselord, Ser Jorah Mormont called. Try me. His longsword slid from its scabbard.Qotho whirled, cursing. The arakh moved so agile that Quaros blood flew from it in a fine spray, like rain in a hot wind. The longsword caught it a foot from Ser Jorahs face, and held it quivering for an instant as Qotho howled in fury. The knight was clad in chain commit, with gauntlets and greaves of lobstered steel and a heavy gorget around his throat, but he had not thought to don his helm.Qotho danced backward, arakh whirling around his head in a shining blur, flitter out like lightning as the knight came on in a rush. Ser Jorah parried as best he could, but the slashes came so fast that it seemed to Dany that Qotho had iv arakhs and as many arms. She heard the crun ch of sword on mail, saw sparks fly as the long curved blade glanced off a gauntlet. Suddenly it was Mormont stumbling backward, and Qotho leaping to the attack. The left side of the knights face ran red with blood, and a cut to the hip opened a gash in his mail and left him limping. Qotho screamed taunts at him, calling him a craven, a milk man, a eunuch in an iron suit. You die now he promised, arakh thrill through the red twilight. Inside Danys womb, her son kicked wildly. The curved blade slipped past the straight one and bit deep into the knights hip where the mail gaped open.Mormont grunted, stumbled. Dany felt a sharp pain in her belly, a wetness on her thighs. Qotho shriek triumph, but his arakh had found bone, and for one-half a heartbeat it caught.It was enough. Ser Jorah brought his longsword down with all the strength left him, through flesh and muscle and bone, and Qothos forearm dangled loose, flopping on a thin cord of skin and sinew. The knights next cut was at the Dothrakis ear, so savage that Qothos face seemed almost to explode.The Dothraki were shouting, Mirri Maz Duur wailing inside the tent like nothing human, Quaro pleading for water as he died. Dany cried out for help, but no one heard. Rakharo was fighting Haggo, arakh dancing with arakh until Jhogos whip cracked, jazzy as thunder, the lash coiling around Haggos throat. A yank, and the bloodrider stumbled backward, losing his feet and his sword. Rakharo sprang forward, howling, swinging his arakh down with both hands through the top of Haggos head. The point caught between his eyes, red and quivering. Someone threw a stone, and when Dany looked, her shoulder was torn and bloody. No, she wept, no, please, stop it, its too high, the price is too high. More stones came flying. She tried to crawl toward the tent, but Cohollo caught her. Fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back and she felt the cold touch of his knife at her throat. My baby, she screamed, and perhaps the gods heard, f or as quick as that, Cohollo was dead. Aggos arrow took him under the arm, to throw his lungs and heart.When at last Daenerys found the strength to raise her head, she saw the crowd dispersing, the Dothraki stealing silently back to their tents and sleeping mats. Some were saddling horses and riding off. The sun had set. Fires burned throughout the khalasar, great orange blazes that crackled with fury and spit embers at the sky. She tried to rise, and agony seized her and squeezed her like a giants fist. The breath went out of her it was all she could do to gasp. The sound of Mirri Maz Duurs voice was like a funeral dirge. Inside the tent, the shadows whirled.An arm went under her waist, and then Ser Jorah was lifting her off her feet. His face was sticky with blood, and Dany saw that half his ear was gone. She convulsed in his arms as the pain took her again, and heard the knight shouting for her handmaids to help him. Are they all so afraid? She knew the answer. Another pain gras ped her, and Dany bit back a scream. It felt as if her son had a knife in each hand, as if he were hacking at her to cut his way out. Doreah, curse you, Ser Jorah roared. Come here. Fetch the birthing women.They will not come. They say she is accursed.Theyll come or Ill have their heads.Doreah wept. They are gone, my lord.The maegi, somebody else said. Was that Aggo? Take her to the maegi.No, Dany wanted to say, no, not that, you mustnt, but when she opened her mouth, a long wail of pain escaped, and the sweat broke over her skin. What was wrong with them, couldnt they see? Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed in flames.The Lamb Woman knows the secrets of the birthing bed, Irri said. She said so, I heard her.Yes, Doreah agreed, I heard her too.No, she shouted, or perhaps she only thought it, for no whisper of s ound escaped her lips. She was being carried. Her eyes opened to gaze up at a flat dead sky, black and bleak and starless. Please, no. The sound of Mirri Maz Duurs voice grew louder, until it filled the world. The shapes she screamed. The dancersSer Jorah carried her inside the tent.