“This is beauty. Touch it. Go on. Caress2 the fabric3.”
Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. Shecould not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. “Is itreally mine?”
“A gift from the Magister Illyrio,” Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight.
“The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of allsorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess.”
A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never reallyknown. “Why does he give us so much?” she asked. “What does he want from us?” For nigh on half ayear, they had lived in the magister’s house, eating his food, pampered4 by his servants. Dany wasthirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city ofPentos.
“Illyrio is no fool,” Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverishlook in his pale lilac eyes. “The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into mythrone.”
Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer5 in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, lesssavory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in VaesDothrak and the fabled6 lands beside the Jade7 Sea. It was also said that he’d never had a friend hewouldn’t cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard thesethings, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His angerwas a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it “waking the dragon.”
Her brother hung the gown beside the door. “Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure youwash off the stink8 of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a differentsort of mount.” He studied her critically. “You still slouch. Straighten yourself.” He pushed back hershoulders with his hands. “Let them see that you have a woman’s shape now.” His fingers brushedlightly over her budding breasts and tightened9 on a nipple. “You will not fail me tonight. If you do, itwill go hard for you. You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?” His fingers twisted her, the pinchcruelly hard through the rough fabric of her tunic10. “Do you?” he repeated.
“No,” Dany said meekly11.
Her brother smiled. “Good.” He touched her hair, almost with affection. “When they write thehistory of my reign12, sweet sister, they will say that it began tonight.”
When he was gone, Dany went to her window and looked out wistfully on the waters of the bay.
The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes13 outlined against the setting sun. Dany couldhear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged14 children playinggames beyond the walls of the estate. For a moment she wished she could be out there with them,barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at KhalDrogo’s manse.
Somewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plainsand great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains,and armored knights15 rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the SunsetKingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayerwith him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us bytreachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragonremembers.”
haesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the SunsetKingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayerwith him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us bytreachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragonremembers.”
And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land herbrother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rockand the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle17 of Faces, they were just words toher. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies ofthe Usurper18, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.
Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her thestories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering19 on the ship’s black sails. Herbrother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody20 waters of the Trident and dying for the woman heloved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannisterand Stark21. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breastand murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls22 of the last dragons staring down sightlessly fromthe walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.
She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer stormthreatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet wassmashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtlinginto the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brotherViserys had never forgiven her.
She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother setsail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, hadremained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. Thegarrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyalmen had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail undercover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.
She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowingorders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany.
He called her “Little Princess” and sometimes “My Lady,” and his hands were soft as old leather. Henever left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sicklysweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had herown room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants hadstolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany hadcried when the red door closed behind them forever.
They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor andVolantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’shired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.
At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the lastTargaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit uponthe Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to selltheir last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In thealleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to knowwhat they called her.
“We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,” he would promise her. Sometimes his handsshook when he talked about it. “The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the IronThrone and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.” Viserys lived forthat day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outsideher window, the childhood she had never known.
There came a soft knock on her door. “Come,” Dany said, turning away from the window. Illyrio’sservants entered, bowed, and set about their business. They were slaves, a gift from one of themagister’s many Dothraki friends. There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, theywere slaves. The old woman, small and grey as a mouse, never said a word, but the girl made up forit. She was Illyrio’s favorite, a fair-haired, blue-eyed wench of sixteen who chattered24 constantly as she worked.
They filled her bath with hot water brought up from the kitchen and scented25 it with fragrant27 oils.
The girl pulled the rough cotton tunic over Dany’s head and helped her into the tub. The water wasscalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch28 or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean.
Besides, her brother had often told her that it was never too hot for a Targaryen. “Ours is the house ofthe dragon,” he would say. “The fire is in our blood.”
The old woman washed her long, silver-pale hair and gently combed out the snags, all in silence.
The girl scrubbed her back and her feet and told her how lucky she was. “Drogo is so rich that evenhis slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in VaesDothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.” There was more like that, so much more,what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount ahorse, a demon29 archer30. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed23 Viseryswhen she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon theConqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousandtimes; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragonsdid not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle31 their blood with that of lessermen. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian32.
When she was clean, the slaves helped her from the water and toweled her dry. The girl brushedher hair until it shone like molten silver, while the old woman anointed her with the spiceflowerperfume of the Dothraki plains, a dab33 on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her breasts, andone last one, cool on her lips, down there between her legs. They dressed her in the wisps thatMagister Illyrio had sent up, and then the gown, a deep plum silk to bring out the violet in her eyes.
The girl slid the gilded34 sandals onto her feet, while the old woman fixed35 the tiara in her hair, and slidgolden bracelets36 crusted with amethysts37 around her wrists. Last of all came the collar, a heavy goldentorc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.
“Now you look all a princess,” the girl said breathlessly when they were done. Dany glanced ather image in the silvered looking glass that Illyrio had so thoughtfully provided. A princess, shethought, but she remembered what the girl had said, how Khal Drogo was so rich even his slaveswore golden collars. She felt a sudden chill, and gooseflesh pimpled38 her bare arms.
Her brother was waiting in the cool of the entry hall, seated on the edge of the pool, his handtrailing in the water. He rose when she appeared and looked her over critically. “Stand there,” he toldher. “Turn around. Yes. Good. You look …”
“Regal,” Magister Illyrio said, stepping through an archway. He moved with surprising delicacyfor such a massive man. Beneath loose garments of flame-colored silk, rolls of fat jiggled as hewalked. Gemstones glittered on every finger, and his man had oiled his forked yellow beard until itshone like real gold. “May the Lord of Light shower you with blessings39 on this most fortunate day,Princess Daenerys,” the magister said as he took her hand. He bowed his head, showing a thinglimpse of crooked40 yellow teeth through the gold of his beard. “She is a vision, Your Grace, avision,” he told her brother. “Drogo will be enraptured41.”
“She’s too skinny,” Viserys said. His hair, the same silver-blond as hers, had been pulled backtightly behind his head and fastened with a dragonbone brooch. It was a severe look that emphasizedthe hard, gaunt lines of his face. He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword that Illyrio had lent him,and said, “Are you sure that Khal Drogo likes his women this young?”
“She has had her blood. She is old enough for the khal,” Illyrio told him, not for the first time.
“Look at her. That silver-gold hair, those purple eyes … she is the blood of old Valyria, no doubt, nodoubt … and highborn, daughter of the old king, sister to the new, she cannot fail to entrance ourDrogo.” When he released her hand, Daenerys found herself trembling.
“I suppose,” her brother said doubtfully. “The savages42 have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep …”
“Best not suggest this to Khal Drogo,” Illyrio said.
Anger flashed in her brother’s lilac eyes. “Do you take me for a fool?”
The magister bowed slightly. “I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of common men. Myapologies if I have given offense43.” He turned away and clapped his hands for his bearers.
The streets of Pentos were pitch-dark when they set out in Illyrio’s elaborately carved palanquin.
Two servants went ahead to light their way, carrying ornate oil lanterns with panes44 of pale blue glass,while a dozen strong men hoisted45 the poles to their shoulders. It was warm and close inside behind the curtains. Dany could smell the stench of Illyrio’s pallid46 flesh through his heavy perfumes.
Her brother, sprawled47 out on his pillows beside her, never noticed. His mind was away across thenarrow sea. “We won’t need his whole khalasar,” Viserys said. His fingers toyed with the hilt of hisborrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword in earnest. “Ten thousand, that wouldbe enough, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers. The realm willrise for its rightful king. Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy, they have no more love for the Usurperthan I do. The Dornishmen burn to avenge48 Elia and her children. And the smallfolk will be with us.
They cry out for their king.” He looked at Illyrio anxiously. “They do, don’t they?”
“They are your people, and they love you well,” Magister Illyrio said amiably49. “In holdfasts allacross the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide themagainst the day of your return from across the water.” He gave a massive shrug50. “Or so my agents tellme.”
Dany had no agents, no way of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea,but she mistrusted Illyrio’s sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother wasnodding eagerly, however. “I shall kill the Usurper myself,” he promised, who had never killedanyone, “as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to myfather.”
“That would be most fitting,” Magister Illyrio said. Dany saw the smallest hint of a smile playingaround his full lips, but her brother did not notice. Nodding, he pushed back a curtain and stared offinto the night, and Dany knew he was fighting the Battle of the Trident once again.
The nine-towered manse of Khal Drogo sat beside the waters of the bay, its high brick wallsovergrown with pale ivy51. It had been given to the khal by the magisters of Pentos, Illyrio told them.
The Free Cities were always generous with the horselords. “It is not that we fear these barbarians,”
Illyrio would explain with a smile. “The Lord of Light would hold our city walls against a millionDothraki, or so the red priests promise … yet why take chances, when their friendship comes socheap?”
Their palanquin was stopped at the gate, the curtains pulled roughly back by one of the houseguards. He had the copper52 skin and dark almond eyes of a Dothraki, but his face was hairless and hewore the spiked53 bronze cap of the Unsullied. He looked them over coldly. Magister Illyrio growledsomething to him in the rough Dothraki tongue; the guardsman replied in the same voice and wavedthem through the gates.
Dany noticed that her brother’s hand was clenched54 tightly around the hilt of his borrowed sword.
He looked almost as frightened as she felt. “Insolent eunuch,” Viserys muttered as the palanquinlurched up toward the manse.
Magister Illyrio’s words were honey. “Many important men will be at the feast tonight. Such menhave enemies. The khal must protect his guests, yourself chief among them, Your Grace. No doubtthe Usurper would pay well for your head.”
“Oh, yes,” Viserys said darkly. “He has tried, Illyrio, I promise you that. His hired knives followus everywhere. I am the last dragon, and he will not sleep easy while I live.”
The palanquin slowed and stopped. The curtains were thrown back, and a slave offered a hand tohelp Daenerys out. His collar, she noted55, was ordinary bronze. Her brother followed, one hand stillclenched hard around his sword hilt. It took two strong men to get Magister Illyrio back on his feet.
Inside the manse, the air was heavy with the scent26 of spices, pinchfire and sweet lemon andcinnamon. They were escorted across the entry hall, where a mosaic56 of colored glass depicted57 theDoom of Valyria. Oil burned in black iron lanterns all along the walls. Beneath an arch of twiningstone leaves, a eunuch sang their coming. “Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of his Name,”
he called in a high, sweet voice, “King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of theSeven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. His sister, Daenerys Stormborn, Princess ofDragonstone. His honorable host, Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of the Free City of Pentos.”
They stepped past the eunuch into a pillared courtyard overgrown in pale ivy. Moonlight paintedthe leaves in shades of bone and silver as the guests drifted among them. Many were Dothrakihorselords, big men with red-brown skin, their drooping58 mustachios bound in metal rings, their blackhair oiled and braided and hung with bells. Yet among them moved bravos and sellswords fromPentos and Myr and Tyrosh, a red priest even fatter than Illyrio, hairy men from the Port of Ibben, andlords from the Summer Isles59 with skin as black as ebony. Daenerys looked at them all in wonder … and realized, with a sudden start of fear, that she was the only woman there.
Illyrio whispered to them. “Those three are Drogo’s bloodriders, there,” he said. “By the pillar isKhal Moro, with his son Rhogoro. The man with the green beard is brother to the Archon of Tyrosh,and the man behind him is Ser Jorah Mormont.”
The last name caught Daenerys. “A knight16?”
“No less.” Illyrio smiled through his beard. “Anointed with the seven oils by the High Septonhimself.”
“What is he doing here?” she blurted60.
“The Usurper wanted his head,” Illyrio told them. “Some trifling61 affront62. He sold some poachersto a Tyroshi slaver instead of giving them to the Night’s Watch. Absurd law. A man should be able todo as he likes with his own chattel63.”
“I shall wish to speak with Ser Jorah before the night is done,” her brother said. Dany foundherself looking at the knight curiously64. He was an older man, past forty and balding, but still strongand fit. Instead of silks and cottons, he wore wool and leather. His tunic was a dark green,embroidered with the likeness65 of a black bear standing66 on two legs.
She was still looking at this strange man from the homeland she had never known when MagisterIllyrio placed a moist hand on her bare shoulder. “Over there, sweet princess,” he whispered, “there isthe khal himself.”
Dany wanted to run and hide, but her brother was looking at her, and if she displeased67 him sheknew she would wake the dragon. Anxiously, she turned and looked at the man Viserys hoped wouldask to wed her before the night was done.
The slave girl had not been far wrong, she thought. Khal Drogo was a head taller than the tallestman in the room, yet somehow light on his feet, as graceful68 as the panther in Illyrio’s menagerie. Hewas younger than she’d thought, no more than thirty. His skin was the color of polished copper, histhick mustachios bound with gold and bronze rings.
“I must go and make my submissions,” Magister Illyrio said. “Wait here. I shall bring him toyou.”
Her brother took her by the arm as Illyrio waddled69 over to the khal, his fingers squeezing so hardthat they hurt. “Do you see his braid, sweet sister?”
Drogo’s braid was black as midnight and heavy with scented oil, hung with tiny bells that rangsoftly as he moved. It swung well past his belt, below even his buttocks, the end of it brushing againstthe back of his thighs70.
“You see how long it is?” Viserys said. “When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off theirbraids in disgrace, so the world will know their shame. Khal Drogo has never lost a fight. He isAegon the Dragonlord come again, and you will be his queen.”
Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Herbrother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this manfrightened her. “I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please,please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.”
“Home!” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. “How are we to go home,sweet sister? They took our home from us!” He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingersdigging into her skin. “How are we to go home?” he repeated, meaning King’s Landing, andDragonstone, and all the realm they had lost.
Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio’s estate, no true home surely, though all they had, buther brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with thered door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. “Idon’t know …” she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes.
“I do,” he said sharply. “We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo’s army, that ishow we go home. And if you must wed him and bed him for that, you will.” He smiled at her. “I’d lethis whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too ifthat was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may even learn to likehim. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying.”
Dany turned and saw that it was true. Magister Illyrio, all smiles and bows, was escorting KhalDrogo over to where they stood. She brushed away unfallen tears with the back of her hand.
“Smile,” Viserys whispered nervously71, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. “And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as is.”
Daenerys smiled, and stood up straight.
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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fabled
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| adj.寓言中的，虚构的 | |
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jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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tunic
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meekly
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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silhouettes
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| 轮廓( silhouette的名词复数 )； （人的）体形； （事物的）形状； 剪影 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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isle
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usurper
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shimmering
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bloody
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skulls
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wed
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chattered
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scented
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scent
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fragrant
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flinch
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demon
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archer
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mingle
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barbarian
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dab
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| v.轻触，轻拍，轻涂；n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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amethysts
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| n.紫蓝色宝石( amethyst的名词复数 )；紫晶；紫水晶；紫色 | |
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pimpled
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| adj.有丘疹的，多粉刺的 | |
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blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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chattel
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| n.动产；奴隶 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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