Whether to go to Qarth was, in essence, like the earlier decision of whether to lead the Khal LS south. Both seemed fraught with uncertainty and couldn't be made lightly, yet there was no alternative.
"Your Highness, it's clear they've come seeking dragons, and their interest in your dragon goes beyond mere curiosity. If any among them decides to seize it by force, you'll be safer here," Jorah said after a moment's thought.
"Oh?"
"All trade cities, from ordinary merchants to trade princes, value profit over principle and have no sense of honor. Yet there's one thing everyone can trust," Jorah's eyes flashed with a sharp glint. "The foundation of their existence, the very reason these trade cities endure in this world: credit!"
"In simple terms, at sea or on the open road, any merchant might turn bandit and seize what they covet by force. But within the cities, they'll skillfully use deception, extortion, and temptation to profit, yet they would never resort to outright robbery."
Seeing Daenerys's thoughtful expression, he smiled. "The greater the merchant, the more insidious and subtle their methods become. Yet this vast world is also one of fluid information."
"If Xaro and his companions invited you, they theoretically assumed responsibility for your safety.
Not out of any noble sentiment, but because their reputation among other merchants is far more valuable than any immediate gain.
Princess, you've wandered through the major city-states of the Western Continent for so long; you should understand this better than anyone."
Daenerys nodded. The bounty on the Targaryen siblings had never been rescinded, yet none of the trade princes or governors who had hosted them had ever beheaded them for the reward.
The balance of interests was uneven.
But the world's only three dragons were enough to make anyone willingly cast aside honor and credit.
"Even the guest right, prevalent throughout the Seven Kingdoms, can be violated, can't it?" she remarked.
Jorah looked as if he'd been struck by her words. His eyes widened in disbelief as he exclaimed, "Who has ever violated the guest right, apart from the legendary Rat Cook? Even the most foolish, mad, or ignorant would never deliberately break the guest right."
*Heh, in a couple of years, when the news of Robb Stark's death arrives, you won't be so surprised.*
"Who is the Rat Cook?" she asked.
"The Rat Cook was a Night's Watchman who served as a cook at Nightfort. He held a deep grudge against the King of Casterly Rock. When that Andal King visited the Wall with his son and retinue, the Night's Watch hosted them.
One night, the Rat Cook seized his opportunity and assassinated the King's son. He then prepared a grand pie using the prince's flesh, seasoned with onions, carrots, mushrooms, pepper, and salt. The pie was served with bacon and a dark red Dornish wine.
When the King tasted the pie, he praised its deliciousness, unaware he was eating his own son, and demanded another slice.
Even the Gods could not tolerate such an atrocity. They transformed the cook into a sow-like, obese white rat, cursed to forever eat his own children.
The Rat Cook still wanders Nightfort, driven by an insatiable hunger, endlessly devouring his own descendants."
In the dim light, Jorah's indistinct features took on an eerie, sinister quality. Daenerys's two Dothraki handmaidens huddled together, their almond eyes wide with panic as they darted their gazes around the room, as if expecting a white rat to materialize from any corner.
"Ahem, a rather excellent bedtime story," Daenerys said, clearing her throat, "but it lacks a certain... deterrent quality, wouldn't you say?"
"It's true," Jorah grumbled, his voice tinged with irritation. "Even children in the North know it."
"The first part of the story must be true," Daenerys mused, shaking her head. "But the gods' punishment afterward..." She turned to him. "Which god do you think punished the Rat Cook?"
Jorah replied immediately, "The Gods are the Gods. Of course, all of them would find the Rat Cook's trampling of guest rights intolerable."
"Heh, the North, especially the regions around The Wall, belongs to the Old Gods, while the Andals worship the Seven Gods," Daenerys countered. "Humans might accept the coexistence of both for political harmony, but the Doctrine of the Seven Gods insists on their sole divinity. If the Seven Gods were truly as they claim, why would they cooperate with the Old Gods to punish a mere human?"
Jorah sighed, his expression resigned. "Princess, the story's purpose is to warn people: a person may have the right to seek vengeance, but killing a guest under one's own roof and trampling their rights is an act the Gods will never forgive."
"Whether the Gods exist or which deity punished the Rat Cook is irrelevant," he concluded in a tone used to teach mischievous children. "What matters is that through this story, we understand the importance of respecting the rights of sacred guests."
*Sigh, the one who doesn't understand is you, Great Bear.*
Because the story's moralizing was so heavy-handed, it greatly undermined its credibility.
The story made one thing clear to the intelligent: exploiting others' trust in the rights of guests allows for easy and satisfying revenge, and the Gods would never punish him for it.
The Rat Cook might have met a tragic end, but it would be the heartbroken King, not the Gods, who punished him.
For the Rat Cook, a commoner banished to The Wall, his chance for revenge was almost entirely lost—especially when his target was a king.
What were the rights of guests to such a man? They meant nothing to him.
*Still, some thoughts are best kept to oneself. If I voiced them, others would look at me differently: "Who knew the Princess was like this?"*
As if I had already done something.
So, Daenerys simply asked, "You recommend we go to Qarth?"
Jorah nodded, saying earnestly, "Qarth is a major city connecting the East and West. It has what you need, such as ships and sailors. If we find the Qarthians hostile, we can immediately set sail."
"Robert Baratheon is dead. Don't you have any ideas?" He gazed at her intently, as if trying to see through the violet mist before her and reach the depths of her heart.
*Let the White Walkers be the King of the Seven Kingdoms!* Daenerys thought sarcastically, but her face remained impassive. Instead, she put on an eager expression and asked, "Do I have a chance?"
Westeros was Jorah's homeland. He had willingly spied for Robert just to return home.
Without a doubt, his scales had already tipped heavily in Daenerys's favor over the Baratheons.
But if she knew Daenerys had no intention of returning to the Seven Kingdoms, the other side of the scale would no longer hold "loyalty to King's Landing and the current King," but rather "the lure of home."
Nostalgia and love were equally powerful forces.
Moreover, someone had long since given the poor knight the "nice guy" card.
"We can't receive any information here, so I can't judge the current situation in the Seven Kingdoms. One thing is certain: even if the usurper is dead, he has two sons, and the Queen is a Lannister!
At the very least, the Baratheons and Lannisters will oppose your return.
Eddard Stark considered Robert almost a brother; he wouldn't support you.
The Arryns of the Vale, the Tullys of the Trident, and the Starks are all related by marriage, so they'll..." Jorah said, his face etched with worry.
He didn't know that none of the Queen's sons were Baratheon, nor that Eddard had already been imprisoned by the Queen—and might have already been beheaded by the new King, Joffrey.
In recent years, the political climate in Westeros has been more volatile than a storm at sea. Qarth is still too far from King's Landing, and information arrives with significant delays and errors.
"Ah, Princess, it would be best to avoid Westeros for now and wait for the dragons to grow. Let's stay safe and wait," Jorah advised, his words measured and prudent.
Daenerys nodded. Jorah had always been cautious and realistic.
"Do you have any suggestions?" she asked, turning to the Dothraki, who had been silently observing the conversation.
"Khaleesi, you are my blood of blood. We will go wherever you say!" Jhoggo said, scratching his bald head with a worried expression.
The Dothraki were reluctant to leave the grasslands. They considered the sea to be poisonous water and should be avoided at all costs. Yet their simple minds could offer no better suggestions, leaving them anxious and helpless.
Seeing that the other two Bloodriders shared the same sentiment, Daenerys turned to the elders. "Avanthi, Solomon, what are your thoughts?"
"Perhaps we should sneak away tonight and head for the western mountains?" Avanthi suggested, his idea sounding rather foolish.
Kohor immediately shook his head and cautioned, "If we deceive the Qarth, we will no longer be their friends and guests, but their enemies. Has anyone considered how they found us here?"
"Prophecy! The Shadowbinders use prophecy!" Jhiqui cried out in terror.
Irri corrected her. "It's the stars guiding them. I heard that blue-lipped sorcerer say so this afternoon."
"Even if we go west, they'll still find us," Doreah nodded.
"Quaithe, from tomorrow on, you will guard my dragons day and night without leaving my side," Daenerys said, her mind made up, addressing her "Great Dragon Guard."
"Khaleesi, as long as I live, no one will steal your dragons," Quaithe declared with unwavering resolve.
The council reached a consensus. The next morning, Daenerys informed her three guests of her decision.
Quaithe's expression remained unreadable, but the sorcerer and the merchant openly welcomed her choice. Both solemnly pledged their protection to Daenerys and her Khal LS in Qarth.
Later that morning, Daenerys sent knights to notify the herders in the other two White Cities, instructing them to bring the Khal LS's horse herds to White Cloud City. Those hunting in the western mountains also received the order.
Four days later, Daenerys's Khal LS set out once more.
Their destination: Qarth, in the southwest.
Of course, Daenerys hadn't been idle during those four days. She arranged for Aggo to travel ahead, taking three horses, ample food, and fresh water.
Xaro gave Aggo a letter. Upon arriving in Qarth, Aggo was to deliver it to his steward, who would then lead a caravan of camels toward the Red Waste.
The camel train would carry vast supplies of food and water. More importantly, the Khal LS would no longer need to conserve their horses' strength. Once the camels arrived, the Dothraki could switch to the more comfortable mounts.
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(End of Chapter)