"Rule over us?"
The speaker was a bent, skeletal old horsewoman with only one remaining black eye.
The khalasars were all made up of horselords, while the khaleesis came from all over the world—golden hair and blue eyes, silver hair and violet eyes, red hair and brown eyes, even green hair, and a few black-skinned women.But the leader of Vaes Dothrak's dosh khaleen was an elderly horsewoman.
"It isn't impossible. You have the right to replace me and become the head of the dosh khaleen," the one-eyed crone said after a moment of thought, nodding.
"No, you misunderstand. I am not here for the dosh khaleen alone, and I am not seeking to rule only you."
Dany swept her hand outward, looking over the people gathering around her. "I intend to rule everyone. All horselords within my sight and beyond it will kneel before me."
"You, insolent girl!" the crones shouted furiously.
The one-eyed crone fixed her sharp black gaze on Dany. "You are not a Khal, not a man. How dare you dream of becoming the Stallion Who Mounts the World?"
"I am a Khaleesi. I command twenty thousand screamers"—she was exaggerating—"and I am stronger than any man. Why should I not become the Stallion Who Mounts the World?" Dany replied calmly.
"You are not the one foretold. You are not even a horseperson," the crone cried.
"I am not horseborn, but from the moment I married Khal Drogo, I gained all the rights of the horselords, just as they did." Dany pointed toward the group of foreign former khaleesis across from her.
"They were not horsewomen originally either, but after marrying their Khals, they became dosh khaleen just like you."
The one-eyed crone was speechless for a long moment before muttering, "No woman has ever been a Khal."
"There is a first time for everything. Even the zebramen next door have female jahas—their version of a Khal.
"And their very first Jatha-ta, the Khal of Khals, the Stallion Who Mounts the World, was a woman named Zanzha," Dany said.
Unfortunately, this was like talking to a wall.
The one-eyed crone might have wisdom and experience, and she might even know a little about the zebramen beyond the Bone Mountains, but she had never heard of Zanzha.
Seeing her hesitation, the uncertainty in her expression, Dany realized the old woman had no idea who the ancient zebraman heroine was.
With a sigh, she turned to her screamers and called out loudly, "Will you give your true allegiance to a female Khal?"
Qhoro was the first to draw his curved blade. "Long live the Khaleesi! Long live the Khal of Khals!"
The men behind him instantly understood the cue.
They raised their arakhs to the sky and shouted, "Long live the Khaleesi! Long live the Khal of Khals!"
Their unified roar shook the air. The crones recoiled several steps in fright.
Daenerys—first female Khal—was now a "fact everyone knew."
As long as Dany's own khalasar truly recognized her as their Khal, every khalasar on the Dothraki Sea would follow suit.
Does it sound unbelievable?Think about how khalasars form and it becomes clear.
A khalasar is not a race. Its boundaries are vague. Different khalasars can merge seamlessly and expand without limit.
"Do you know what you will face?" the one-eyed crone asked darkly.
"Of course. Every Khal will challenge me, and I cannot refuse," Dany answered with a nod.
"Tonight, at the foot of Mother's Mountain, we will seek guidance from the gods together. We will know tonight whether a Stallion Who Mounts the World is to be born," said the crone.
Whenever the horselords undertook something great, they sought omens from the Mother. It was tradition.
Dany nodded and watched the dosh khaleen depart, surrounded by eunuchs and slaves.
"Let's go find a place to set camp." She waved her hand and rode ahead.
"Khaleesi, let us go to Khal Drogo's palace. It is your inheritance," Rakharo called.
"All right."
After traveling four or five kilometers along the Avenue of the Gods, the roadside statues gradually thinned, and an enormous market—so vast it seemed exaggerated—appeared before them.
The layout of Vaes Dothrak was extremely simple: only one main road, the Avenue of the Gods, running from the Horse Gate straight north to the foot of Mother's Mountain.
The avenue was divided into three sections: the front lined with stolen idols from countless lands; the middle occupied by markets—West Market on one side and East Market on the other; and the rear holding the residences of the dosh khaleen.
The West Market was controlled by merchants from the Free Cities, forming an immense square surrounded by mud-brick huts and livestock pens, with a maze of stalls and rugged paths at its center.
The East Market was similar, used by traders from Asshai, Yi Ti, and the Shadowlands.
Despite the primitive society of the horselords, anything from the known world—east or west—could be bought in Vaes Dothrak.
Dornish wine, for example. Or dragon-paper from Slaver's Bay.
The wide streets were paved with dry yellow grass and brown earth, with wildflowers growing freely here and there.
Dany rode through the West Market, searching for Drogo's tent.
Land must have been cheap in Vaes Dothrak; buildings were spread far apart, making the city incredibly spacious. Roughly estimated, it was five times the size of Meereen.
They said Vaes Dothrak could hold all the horselords of the Dothraki Sea.
Hold them, yes. Feed them, no.
After turning down several streets, Dany finally stopped and admitted awkwardly, "I seem to have forgotten the way. Does anyone remember?"
Because of her unique identity—and the speech she had just given—many merchants, slaves, and horselords peeked out to watch them pass.
Naked Dothraki children chased after Dany's silver mare, making her quite uncomfortable.
"I'll lead the way," several riders said at once.
In the end, Aggo urged his horse forward and guided the group onward.
It was also because the buildings of the Horse King City were far too strange. There were stone tents carved with decorative patterns, grass-woven palaces as large as the castles of Westerosi lords, two-story wooden houses, and even palaces that used thorn hedges directly as their walls.
Daenerys even saw several miniature pyramids built from marble.
There were too many styles, too bizarre, and many of them newly built, with absolutely no sense of urban planning.
But the horselords could not be blamed. They had no knowledge of architecture at all. Every building was constructed by slaves. If they captured Ghiscari slaves today, they built pyramids. If they captured Rhoynar slaves tomorrow, they built castles. The day after—
"We're here."
Aggo stopped in front of a deep wooden hall.
Daenerys did find traces of it in the original host's memories.
Massive logs as thick as her waist were nailed side-by-side into the ground, forming wooden walls twelve meters high. The structure was only a little more than ten meters wide, but over fifty meters deep, large enough to host hundreds of people drinking and feasting at the same time.
The roof was a canvas canopy, just like the top of a convertible. It could be hung down to block the wind and rain, or pulled open to welcome sunlight and morning dew.
Surrounding the hall were hundreds of domed earthen huts, as if shabby rooms had been dug beneath burial mounds, with wild grass and flowers growing on top.
"Someone has already taken over the Khal's palace."
Aggo walked into the hall, asked a horselord a few questions, and then pointed at the Dragon Queen on her silver mare while saying a few more words.
Before long, a middle-aged Khal named Dakho, around thirty years old, came personally to explain to Daenerys: he was a newly risen Khal in recent years, and he had offered the Dosh Khaleen ten chests of golden medallions in exchange for this palace.
When a Khal died, his khalasar was divided, and his palace in the Horse King City was reclaimed by the Dosh Khaleen, who then redistributed it to whichever Khal needed it.
If Daenerys had obediently returned to the Horse King City back then and joined the Dosh Khaleen crones, she would have received a large share of the "compensation."
"I know who you are, Drogo's khaleesi, the Dragon Queen of Slaver's Bay."
Khal Dakho studied Daenerys with a solemn expression and said, "You don't have many people. I can invite you to rest in my palace.
But if you want me to move out, the Dosh Khaleen must grant me a new palace."
"Fine. Just clear out some space for me," Daenerys said with a nod.
After all, in two days, the entire Horse King City would be hers anyway.
Seeing the Dragon Queen so easy to talk to, Dakho let out a breath of relief. He arranged for more than twenty of the "burial mound huts" to be vacated for her, then invited Daenerys and her bloodriders to drink in the wooden palace.
Out on the Dothraki Sea, when two khalasars met, if neither side voluntarily yielded, one Khal was destined to fall.
But in the Horse King City, all horselords were blood-brothers. They belonged to the same khalasar, the same people, and would engage in no fighting or bloodshed. With dragons in the sky and skinchangers' beasts on the ground, Daenerys also had no fear of the Dothraki learning Westerosi shamelessness.
Still, she had no desire to sit on a dirt platform and drink boldly with a horselord, so she declined by saying, "I still need to bring gifts to the Dosh Khaleen later."
Dakho nodded. "Your proclamation at the market entrance has already spread. I've heard it."
Daenerys became interested. She sent her Dothraki followers to set up camp, then stood with Dakho in the shadow of the wooden hall, chatting.
"Do you think I am qualified to become the Stallion Who Mounts the World?" she asked.
Dakho did not answer directly. Instead, his expression grew complicated. "I thought you would never return to the Horse King City. Only horselords return here.
I thought that even if you did return, you would come riding your dragon, showing off your might, flying straight down to the Mother of Mountains.
I never expected you to follow the rules so strictly—just like every Khal, riding a horse, bringing your khalasar, passing through the Horse Gate, and taking the Gods' Avenue."
"To break rules, you must first obey them. I understand rules very well," Daenerys replied with a soft smile.
"Yes, you understand them. That is why you have a chance—though only a small one—of becoming the Stallion Who Mounts the World. Anyone who does not follow Dothraki tradition, no matter how powerful, will never earn the horselords' recognition."
"Only a small chance?" Daenerys raised an eyebrow.
Dakho lifted his massive, cauldron-sized fist, gave it a little shake, and sneered. "In truth, this is the greatest rule of the horselords."
"You are a Khal's wife. You never remarried. You have, from the beginning, possessed and raised the purest khalasar. You obey Dothraki tradition.
All of this can only earn you the identity of a horselord and the status of a Khal.
Here in the Horse King City, I will acknowledge you as my brother, and because of the number of bells in your braid, I will invite you to sit at the finest table, drink the strongest fermented mare's milk, and eat the tenderest roasted horsemeat."
Daenerys opened her mouth, wanting very much to say: Don't get any ideas, you oaf. Who else is qualified to call me brother?
"But to become the Khal of Khals, you must rely on nothing from outside—no dragons, no magic, no sorcery, no mighty Valyrian steel. Under completely fair conditions, you must defeat every Khal and every Khal's bloodriders and heirs."
Khal Dakho shook his head and sighed. "If you want the Dothraki to truly submit, you must defeat us in the Dothraki way. But clearly, you cannot do that."
"Now that you've explained it, I know exactly what to do." Daenerys raised her own pale, delicate fist and gave it a shake toward the horselord. "This is what I have the most of."
(End of chapter)
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