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"May I search the forbidden places?" Quarro asked.
Ferrego, wearing Miho Toth's body, flexed his fingers. The motion was stiff, as if the flesh still remembered its former owner.
"Avoid the temples of the Lord of Light and the Many-Faced God," he said. "Search everywhere else quietly."
"As you command."
"The body's original will is still interfering with me." Ferrego's red eyes filled with irritation. "If the god-blessed necklace that once appeared in Asshai had been in my hands, I would not need this crude exchange of flesh."
Quarro bowed lower.
"Send an envoy from the Iron Bank to King's Landing," Ferrego continued. "Use gold to open the way. The war in Westeros has ended, and kingdoms always need loans after war. If Tommen cannot be found, Robb Stark's true king's blood may be required."
"And Daenerys Targaryen?"
"She has three dragons in Essos, perhaps more by rumor. She wants the Iron Throne. She frees slaves. Braavos has no reason to oppose an alliance with her."
Arya's heartbeat quickened.
Robb.
Quarro heard it.
His head snapped toward the hidden door.
Arya ran.
Quarro caught only a glimpse of a guard's back before the passage swallowed her.
"Kill every guard who could have entered these halls," Ferrego ordered. "Their families as well. Leave no loose tongue."
Arya escaped through a rear door by wearing Bessaro's face until she reached the city. Then she changed, burned the stolen clothes, and scattered what she could not carry.
She returned to the House of Black and White for Tommen.
Jaqen was waiting.
"A girl has completed her task."
"A girl needs to leave," Arya said. "They know about Tommen. They want Robb's blood. If you keep us here, my brother's armies will flatten this house."
Jaqen's face did not change.
"There is one way for a girl to leave."
"Then tell me."
"Become no one."
His hand moved.
Darkness swallowed the world.
Arya staggered. Her hand flew to her eyes. "What did you do?"
No one answered.
For a time, panic filled her. She heard her own breathing, the stone beneath her feet, the distant drip of water, Tommen shifting somewhere nearby.
Then she forced herself still.
If the only way out was to become a Faceless Man, she would do it.
Her family could wait for her.
In the dark, Jaqen watched her.
"Flatten the House of Black and White," he murmured. "Perhaps her brother will bring goodwill instead."
Across the sea, Meereen bled in quieter ways.
Take away a man's fortune, and he may hate you as fiercely as if you had killed his kin. The old slave masters proved the truth of that every night.
The Sons of the Harpy hunted freedmen, Unsullied patrols, and nobles who had accepted Daenerys's new order. The masks changed, the knives changed, but the hatred beneath them did not.
In the Great Pyramid, Daenerys Targaryen sat upon her throne.
The pyramid rose thirty-three levels above Meereen. From its high halls, the city looked smaller than its troubles. Daenerys wore a thin pale gown suited to the heat, her silver-gold hair falling over bare shoulders.
Missandei stood at her side. Barristan Selmy, Grey Worm, Daario Naharis, Varys, and Tyrion Lannister waited below.
Tyrion had become her Hand.
He had not made Meereen peaceful, but he had made it useful.
"Most of the noble families have accepted that slavery will not return," Tyrion said. "Not because they have discovered mercy, Your Grace. Because we have shown them a different way to make money."
Daenerys watched him.
"Meereen sits on the Skahazadhan," Tyrion continued. "Through the river and the roads beyond, trade can reach the Dothraki Sea. The khalasars need more than horses, pride, and stolen girls. They need metal, wine, cloth, and grain. We can sell them all four."
He mangled a Valyrian name while explaining it.
Daenerys corrected him without thinking.
Tyrion bowed. "As Your Grace proves, my tongue remains smaller than my ambition."
The corner of Barristan's mouth twitched.
Then the report turned darker.
"Drogon returned wounded," Tyrion said. "The left leg. Robb Stark's wolf did it."
Daenerys's expression hardened.
"Euron broke through with fewer than eighty longships," Varys added. "Not enough to carry an army, but enough to keep his promise."
Daenerys turned on him. "You told me Robb was in King's Landing."
"My little birds reported that he was, Your Grace."
"And yet he was on Old Wyk."
Varys lowered his head.
Tyrion stepped in before the silence became dangerous. "Robb Stark deceived Tywin Lannister, Your Grace. He deceived half of Westeros. Lord Varys is weaker in Westeros now than he once was. His birds cannot sing every note."
Barristan said, "Failure should be punished. But Lord Tyrion is right."
Daenerys looked from one man to the other.
"Then the punishment waits," she said. "Let Varys prove useful enough to keep his head."
The dragons cried outside.
Daenerys rose and went to the terrace.
Rhaegal landed first, green and bronze scales catching the sun. Viserion followed, cream and gold. On Rhaegal's head clung a small red dragon spotted with gold.
Dany.
The new hatchling had come from the egg Euron brought her. It had awakened in fire and blood when the Sons of the Harpy were sacrificed. Daenerys had held the egg through the flames and felt again the terrible promise of rebirth.
Now four dragons lived beneath her hand.
Far to the north, beneath the earth, the Three-Eyed Crow opened his eyes.
Cedar, a child of the forest, came before him.
"The dead are near," Cedar said.
"I know."
"Leaf's group betrayed us. They helped the man who destroys the future."
"Then they chose their side."
Cedar's small face twisted with anger.
The Three-Eyed Crow sent the remaining children away on their tasks.
When he was alone, he looked into the roots and the dark.
He had once chosen Brandon Stark. Bran would have been the vessel, the boy through whom he reached the Iron Throne. Stark blood, royal blood, and the power returning to the world would have supported the transformation.
But Robb Stark had taken the throne.
The future had broken into paths he had not prepared.
His strength had recovered enough for one final gamble.
He only needed the dead to come.
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