"I've heard people say that only followers of the Old Gods in the North of Westeros can become skinchangers. Could it be that Asshai also has weirwood trees? Do they worship the Old Gods as well?" Dany asked.
"Daenerys, do you actually know what the Old Gods are, or what a skinchanger is?" Quixi asked in return.
Dany looked toward Jorah. "The Old Gods are… a tree with a face carved into it?"
"That's a heart tree. The Old Gods are a collective name for many ancient deities," Jorah said slowly.
"The Old Gods represent an animistic belief, where all things possess spirits. Skinchangers, as believers, awaken the spirit of nature and can merge with animals that possess intelligence," Quixi explained to Dany. "An old skinchanger seeking wisdom once told me this. He came from beyond the Wall on the continent of the setting sun."
"A wildling beyond the Wall?" Jorah exclaimed. "How did they end up in Asshai, tens of thousands of miles away?"
"The people you call wildlings are also a race of wisdom. They yearn for knowledge and civilization. But once he crossed the Wall, he felt profound despair—because of how deeply you hate skinchangers.
"So he went to the temple of mysterious beings, to Asshai of the Shadow Lands," Quixi said calmly, the lacquered wooden mask never turning away from Dany.
"Daenerys, the Westeros of the Andals has no place for you… or your dragons."
The words drifted lightly into Dany's ears, yet no one else reacted at all.
Transmission of sound into the mind?
Dany was startled.
For the next several days, she remained uneasy, not daring to be alone with Quixi again.
She asked Jorah and the warlocks. Witches and mages, they said, could not perform "materialized" attacks like forming fireballs or hurling ice spikes. They could only harm others indirectly, through spells, shadows, or blood.
She feared Quixi might quietly cast some kind of "Shadow Binding Technique" on her, so at night she began having her handmaids take turns sleeping nearby.
But it seemed she had overthought it. After that night, Quixi never initiated conversation with her again, nor did he seek any chance to be alone with her.
It wasn't until they left the Red Waste and entered the lands of Qarth that Dany finally couldn't help asking the shadowbinder, "My lord wizard, do you understand the sorcerous incantations of ancient Valyria?"
"You want to learn?" Quixi asked. Though he never spoke to her of his own accord, he had never refused her questions.
"The world is dangerous," Dany sighed sadly. "I don't want to be harmed by evil sorcerers again."
"I do not know Valyrian spells—they are of no use to me. But if you wish, you could go to Asshai. There should be people there who can teach you."
Quixi's voice turned distant and幽幽. "There are rumors in the Shadow Lands that the descendants of the blood mages of ancient Valyria are still active somewhere."
"It's too far. I'm going to Westeros to be queen," Dany shook her head.
At noon the next day, Dany finally saw Qarth, the city the great merchant Xaro had always described as a paradise on earth.
"Clang—!"
From atop the sandstone walls, the same color as the Red Waste, a clear, crisp strike of a bronze gong rang out.
"Stormborn of House Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, Daenerys—has arrived!"
Someone shouted into the city. Even Dany, still half a mile from the gates, heard it clearly.
Before she could ask Xaro what was going on—
"Woooo—!"
A long, resounding blast of horns echoed through the air.
Looking up, Dany saw a ring of tall, powerfully built black men standing atop the ten-meter-high walls, their dark skin gleaming with oil. Their upper bodies were bare above the battlements, each holding a strange horn coiled like a bronze giant serpent around their sculpted physiques.
"Da-da-da-da."
A formation of camel cavalry galloped out of the city in orderly fashion. The camels were draped in brilliantly colored blankets, with exquisitely ornate saddles between their humps. Rubies and garnets embedded in the leather glittered dazzlingly in the sunlight.
The riders themselves were equally splendid, clad in uniform red-bronze scale armor. Their helmets were long-snouted, decorated with copper teeth and flowing black feathers—Dany couldn't tell what kind of animal skull they were meant to resemble.
It was clearly all prepared especially for her arrival. This gate, facing the Red Waste, had been cleared of all unrelated people. Two columns of camel riders extended from the city gate outward for a full two hundred meters.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!"
The riders raised their shining bronze lances and shouted in unison.
Colorful ribbons were tied to the lance tips. As the lances rose and fell, the streamers floated like drifting clouds.
The Qartheen did not shout polite words like "Welcome, Mother of Dragons." Instead, they welcomed their guest with the most enthusiastic actions.
Dany rode her camel side by side with Xaro at the very front. Jorah, the bloodriders, the warlocks, and Quixi followed closely behind.
Only when she drew near the walls did Dany notice that the red stone ramparts were carved with countless animals: winding serpents, soaring kites, gliding fish, wolves howling at the moon across rolling hills, even zebras and elephants.
As Dany approached the gate, the copper-bound wooden doors that had just been shut creaked open once more.
Qarth had three layers of walls. As soon as they passed through the outer gate, a group of children ran up to them. Carrying flower baskets, they giggled as they followed alongside Dany's camel, tossing multicolored petals over her. Dany responded with her sweetest smile.
In truth, she couldn't help silently complaining about the Qartheen's strange customs. Those children wore only golden sandals on their feet and nothing else—but they weren't naked. Their bodies were covered in vividly colored painted designs.
The middle wall was twelve meters high, built of gray granite. It too was carved with scenes, but not of beasts—rather, lifelike depictions of war: warriors clashing blades, spears striking shields, arrows raining down beneath city walls, heroes fighting, infants being slaughtered, blazing funeral pyres.
The iron-bound wooden gates stood wide open. Noise and cheers surged toward Dany like a flood released from a dam as she entered the gate passage—countless people cheering, shouting, roaring.
Between the middle wall and the inner wall stretched a long avenue. On both sides stood densely packed buildings in rich, vibrant colors: dreamlike rose-hued stone towers, violet-painted spires, bronze arches inlaid with green emeralds.
Balconies overflowed with Qartheen spectators. Women wore tokar gowns that exposed one breast, while men favored silk skirts adorned with beads.
The fair-skinned Qartheen either showered red rose petals from above, waved colorful silk scarves, or shouted loudly down at Dany.
"Dong—dong—dong!"
Bells rang from the city's high towers, and Dany suddenly smiled in a strange way.
This was the moment for The Lament of the Undead. She was Arthas, accepting the cheers of the people as she marched toward the palace to kill her father.
The inner wall stood fifteen meters high, built of black marble. Its carvings depicted scenes of men and women entwined—commonly known as erotic spring palace images.
From this, one could glean something of Qartheen customs.
As Dany approached, the inner city gates, inlaid with countless golden eyes, slowly opened like the maw of a giant beast.
Only pedestrians on the street paused to stare curiously at Dany and her party. The inner city had no special welcoming ceremony.
Dany saw towers that could be called miracles in this world—spires rising densely like a forest. In every square they passed, there stood an exquisite animal-shaped fountain.
Under the midday sun, a small rainbow arched above the spray—beautiful beyond words.
The great merchant Pyat Pree said proudly to Dany, "Qarth is the greatest city that ever was or ever will be. It is the center of the world, the gateway between north and south, the bridge linking east and west—ancient beyond memory. All other cities are ugly and pale in comparison."
What bragging nonsense. I don't believe it. Back when ancient Valyria still existed, you wouldn't have dared say that to a dragonlord.
"Yes," Dany replied cheerfully, playing along. "Of the Nine Free Cities, I've visited nearly all of them except Volantis. Not one deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as this pearl of the strait."
Her gaze was drawn to the statues lining the colonnaded street—ancient heroes of the city, standing proudly atop white marble pedestals.
They seemed to be waiting for the day the Dothraki would come, plunder them, and carry them off to Vaes Dothrak, to stand among the countless stone gods along the Mother of Mountains.
Passing through the colonnades, Khal Drogo's former man—no, Xaro—halted before a marketplace. Several streets converged here, and now Dany had to decide which road to take, which host to visit next.
The market lay within a massive building open on many sides. Its latticed ceiling had become home to thousands of brightly colored birds.
Platforms above the shops were lush with trees and flowers, while inside the stalls, goods dazzled the eye—exquisite creations from every corner of the world gathered in one place.
"Oh, Daenerys, my peerless beauty," the great merchant declared theatrically. "Whatever catches your eye, just part your lips, and I will have it delivered before you at once."
"The whole of Qarth belongs to her—she has no need for such trifles," cried Pyat Pree, the blue-lipped warlock, from the other side. "Listen to me, Khaleesi. Come with me to the House of the Undying. There, you shall sip truth and wisdom."
"Hahaha! And what can your House of Dust offer her?" Xaro scoffed arrogantly. "The Thirteen will gift her a crown made of black jade and fire-opal."
Dany's eyes lit up at once. She politely declined the warlock and said, "Lord Pyat, you know my origins, and you can see the longing in my heart. Though Liang Garden may be beautiful, it is not a place to linger. I won't hide it—I year day and night to return to the Red Keep of King's Landing. That is the palace that belongs to me."
You'd best not harbor any crooked thoughts. One day, I'll lead a hundred thousand Dothraki screamers to sack this city.
Fierce resolve burned in her heart, yet on the surface she had to make the Qartheen believe she posed no threat, no ambition toward their city.
Pyat Pree's blue lips curled upward, seeming to smile gracefully, though inwardly he mocked Dany's naivety—for believing the words of shameless merchants.
Just wait. One day, you'll come looking for me of your own accord.
"Khaleesi, you possess wisdom beyond your years. Please accept my gift—we'll speak again another day." He handed her a small jar of ointment and inclined his head. "On the road to Qarth, you showed a yearning for mysterious powers. This holy oil will allow you to see the spirits of the air."
Once Dany accepted the gift, he mounted his camel and rode off in another direction.
"Your Grace, you made the wisest choice," the merchant murmured as he watched the warlock depart. "There's a saying in Qarth—a warlock's house is made of bones and lies."
All cut from the same cloth. Why does the crow laugh at the pig for being black?
...
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(End Chapter)