When he had taken his pleasure, Khal Drogo rose from their sleeping mats to tower above her. Hisskin shone dark as bronze in the ruddy light from the brazier, the faint lines of old scars visible on hisbroad chest. Ink-black hair, loose and unbound, cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, wellpast his waist. His manhood glistened wetly. The khal’s mouth twisted in a frown beneath the droopof his long mustachio. “The stallion who mounts the world has no need of iron chairs.”

Dany propped herself on an elbow to look up at him, so tall and magnificent. She loved his hairespecially. It had never been cut; he had never known defeat. “It was prophesied that the stallion willride to the ends of the earth,” she said.

“The earth ends at the black salt sea,” Drogo answered at once. He wet a cloth in a basin of warmwater to wipe the sweat and oil from his skin. “No horse can cross the poison water.”

“In the Free Cities, there are ships by the thousand,” Dany told him, as she had told him before.

“Wooden horses with a hundred legs, that fly across the sea on wings full of wind.”

Khal Drogo did not want to hear it. “We will speak no more of wooden horses and iron chairs.” Hedropped the cloth and began to dress. “This day I will go to the grass and hunt, woman wife,” heannounced as he shrugged into a painted vest and buckled on a wide belt with heavy medallions ofsilver, gold, and bronze.

“Yes, my sun-and-stars,” Dany said. Drogo would take his bloodriders and ride in search ofhrakkar, the great white lion of the plains. If they returned triumphant, her lord husband’s joy wouldbe fierce, and he might be willing to hear her out.

Savage beasts he did not fear, nor any man who had ever drawn breath, but the sea was a differentmatter. To the Dothraki, water that a horse could not drink was something foul; the heaving grey-green plains of the ocean filled them with superstitious loathing. Drogo was a bolder man than theother horselords in half a hundred ways, she had found … but not in this. If only she could get himonto a ship …After the khal and his bloodriders had ridden off with their bows, Dany summoned her handmaids.

Her body felt so fat and ungainly now that she welcomed the help of their strong arms and deft hands,whereas before she had often been uncomfortable with the way they fussed and fluttered about her.

They scrubbed her clean and dressed her in sandsilk, loose and flowing. As Doreah combed out herhair, she sent Jhiqui to find Ser Jorah Mormont.

The knight came at once. He wore horsehair leggings and painted vest, like a rider. Coarse blackhair covered his thick chest and muscular arms. “My princess. How may I serve you?”

“You must talk to my lord husband,” Dany said. “Drogo says the stallion who mounts the worldwill have all the lands of the earth to rule, and no need to cross the poison water. He talks of leadinghis khalasar east after Rhaego is born, to plunder the lands around the Jade Sea.”

The knight looked thoughtful. “The khal has never seen the Seven Kingdoms,” he said. “They arenothing to him. If he thinks of them at all, no doubt he thinks of islands, a few small cities clinging torocks in the manner of Lorath or Lys, surrounded by stormy seas. The riches of the east must seem amore tempting prospect.”

“But he must ride west,” Dany said, despairing. “Please, help me make him understand.” She hadnever seen the Seven Kingdoms either, no more than Drogo, yet she felt as though she knew themfrom all the tales her brother had told her. Viserys had promised her a thousand times that he wouldtake her back one day, but he was dead now and his promises had died with him.

“The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons,” the knight answered. “Havepatience, Princess. Do not make your brother’s mistake. We will go home, I promise you.”

Home? The word made her feel sad. Ser Jorah had his Bear Island, but what was home to her? Afew tales, names recited as solemnly as the words of a prayer, the fading memory of a reddoor … was Vaes Dothrak to be her home forever? When she looked at the crones of the doshkhaleen, was she looking at her future?

Ser Jorah must have seen the sadness on her face. “A great caravan arrived during the night,Khaleesi. Four hundred horses, from Pentos by way of Norvos and Qohor, under the command ofMerchant Captain Byan Votyris. Illyrio may have sent a letter. Would you care to visit the WesternMarket?”

Dany stirred. “Yes,” she said. “I would like that.” The markets came alive when a caravan hadcome in. You could never tell what treasures the traders might bring this time, and it would be good tohear men speaking Valyrian again, as they did in the Free Cities. “Irri, have them prepare a litter.”

“I shall tell your khas,” Ser Jorah said, withdrawing.

If Khal Drogo had been with her, Dany would have ridden her silver. Among the Dothraki, mothersstayed on horseback almost up to the moment of birth, and she did not want to seem weak in herhusband’s eyes. But with the khal off hunting, it was pleasant to lie back on soft cushions and becarried across Vaes Dothrak, with red silk curtains to shield her from the sun. Ser Jorah saddled upand rode beside her, with the four young men of her khas and her handmaids.

The day was warm and cloudless, the sky a deep blue. When the wind blew, she could smell therich scents of grass and earth. As her litter passed beneath the stolen monuments, she went fromsunlight to shadow and back again. Dany swayed along, studying the faces of dead heroes andforgotten kings. She wondered if the gods of burned cities could still answer prayers.

If I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She waskhaleesi, she had a strong man and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, anhonored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew old … and in her womb grew a sonwho would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman … but not for thedragon. With Viserys gone, Daenerys was the last, the very last. She was the seed of kings andconquerors, and so too the child inside her. She must not forget.

The Western Market was a great square of beaten earth surrounded by warrens of mud-baked brick,animal pens, whitewashed drinking halls. Hummocks rose from the ground like the backs of greatsubterranean beasts breaking the surface, yawning black mouths leading down to cool and cavernousstorerooms below. The interior of the square was a maze of stalls and crookback aisles, shaded byawnings of woven grass.

A hundred merchants and traders were unloading their goods and setting up in stalls when theyarrived, yet even so the great market seemed hushed and deserted compared to the teeming bazaarsthat Dany remembered from Pentos and the other Free Cities. The caravans made their way to VaesDothrak from east and west not so much to sell to the Dothraki as to trade with each other, Ser Jorahhad explained. The riders let them come and go unmolested, so long as they observed the peace of thesacred city, did not profane the Mother of Mountains or the Womb of the World, and honored thecrones of the dosh khaleen with the traditional gifts of salt, silver, and seed. The Dothraki did nottruly comprehend this business of buying and selling.

Dany liked the strangeness of the Eastern Market too, with all its queer sights and sounds andsmells. She often spent her mornings there, nibbling tree eggs, locust pie, and green noodles, listeningto the high ululating voices of the spellsingers, gaping at manticores in silver cages and immense greyelephants and the striped black-and-white horses of the Jogos Nhai. She enjoyed watching all thepeople too: dark solemn Asshai’i and tall pale Qartheen, the bright-eyed men of Yi Ti in monkey-tailhats, warrior maids from Bayasabhad, Shamyriana, and Kayakayanaya with iron rings in their nipplesand rubies in their cheeks, even the dour and frightening Shadow Men, who covered their arms andlegs and chests with tattoos and hid their faces behind masks. The Eastern Market was a place ofwonder and magic for Dany.

But the Western Market smelled of home.

As Irri and Jhiqui helped her from her litter, she sniffed, and recognized the sharp odors of garlicand pepper, scents that reminded Dany of days long gone in the alleys of Tyrosh and Myr and broughta fond smile to her face. Under that she smelled the heady sweet perfumes of Lys. She saw slavescarrying bolts of intricate Myrish lace and fine wools in a dozen rich colors. Caravan guardswandered among the aisles in copper helmets and knee-length tunics of quilted yellow cotton, emptyscabbards swinging from their woven leather belts. Behind one stall an armorer displayed steelbreastplates worked with gold and silver in ornate patterns, and helms hammered in the shapes offanciful beasts. Next to him was a pretty young woman selling Lannisport goldwork, rings andbrooches and torcs and exquisitely wrought medallions suitable for belting. A huge eunuch guardedher stall, mute and hairless, dressed in sweat-stained velvets and scowling at anyone who came close.

Across the aisle, a fat cloth trader from Yi Ti was haggling with a Pentoshi over the price of somegreen dye, the monkey tail on his hat swaying back and forth as he shook his head.

breastplates worked with gold and silver in ornate patterns, and helms hammered in the shapes offanciful beasts. Next to him was a pretty young woman selling Lannisport goldwork, rings andbrooches and torcs and exquisitely wrought medallions suitable for belting. A huge eunuch guardedher stall, mute and hairless, dressed in sweat-stained velvets and scowling at anyone who came close.

Across the aisle, a fat cloth trader from Yi Ti was haggling with a Pentoshi over the price of somegreen dye, the monkey tail on his hat swaying back and forth as he shook his head.

“When I was a little girl, I loved to play in the bazaar,” Dany told Ser Jorah as they wandereddown the shady aisle between the stalls. “It was so alive there, all the people shouting and laughing,so many wonderful things to look at … though we seldom had enough coin to buy anything … well,except for a sausage now and again, or honeyfingers … do they have honeyfingers in the SevenKingdoms, the kind they bake in Tyrosh?”

“Cakes, are they? I could not say, Princess.” The knight bowed. “If you would pardon me for atime, I will seek out the captain and see if he has letters for us.”

“Very well. I’ll help you find him.”

“There is no need for you to trouble yourself.” Ser Jorah glanced away impatiently. “Enjoy themarket. I will rejoin you when my business is concluded.”

Curious, Dany thought as she watched him stride off through the throngs. She didn’t see why sheshould not go with him. Perhaps Ser Jorah meant to find a woman after he met with the merchantcaptain. Whores frequently traveled with the caravans, she knew, and some men were queerly shyabout their couplings. She gave a shrug. “Come,” she told the others.

Her handmaids trailed along as Dany resumed her stroll through the market. “Oh, look,” sheexclaimed to Doreah, “those are the kind of sausages I meant.” She pointed to a stall where a wizenedlittle woman was grilling meat and onions on a hot firestone. “They make them with lots of garlic andhot peppers.” Delighted with her discovery, Dany insisted the others join her for a sausage. Herhandmaids wolfed theirs down giggling and grinning, though the men of her khas sniffed at the grilledmeat suspiciously. “They taste different than I remember,” Dany said after her first few bites.

“In Pentos, I make them with pork,” the old woman said, “but all my pigs died on the Dothrakisea. These are made of horsemeat, Khaleesi, but I spice them the same.”

“Oh.” Dany felt disappointed, but Quaro liked his sausage so well he decided to have another one,and Rakharo had to outdo him and eat three more, belching loudly. Dany giggled.

“You have not laughed since your brother the Khal Rhaggat was crowned by Drogo,” said Irri. “Itis good to see, Khaleesi.”

Dany smiled shyly. It was sweet to laugh. She felt half a girl again.

They wandered for half the morning. She saw a beautiful feathered cloak from the Summer Isles,and took it for a gift. In return, she gave the merchant a silver medallion from her belt. That was howit was done among the Dothraki. A birdseller taught a green-and-red parrot to say her name, and Danylaughed again, yet still refused to take him. What would she do with a green-and-red parrot in akhalasar? She did take a dozen flasks of scented oils, the perfumes of her childhood; she had only toclose her eyes and sniff them and she could see the big house ............