A Feast for Dragons

greet his cousin. “Half of these Brazen Beasts are untried freedmen.”
And
the other half are Meereenese of doubtful loyalty
, he left unsaid.
Selmy mistrusted all the Meereenese, even shavepates.
    “And untried they shall remain unless we try them.”
    “A mask can hide many things, Your Grace. Is the man behind
the owl mask the same owl who guarded you yesterday and the day before? How can
we know?”
    “How should Meereen ever come to trust the Brazen Beasts if
I do not? There are good brave men beneath those masks. I put my life into
their hands.” Dany smiled for him. “You fret too much, ser. I will have you
beside me, what other protection do I need?”
    “I am one old man, Your Grace.”
    “Strong Belwas will be with me as well.”
    “As you say.” Ser Barristan lowered his voice. “Your Grace.
We set the woman Meris free, as you commanded. Before she went, she asked to
speak with you. I met with her instead. She claims this Tattered Prince meant
to bring the Windblown over to your cause from the beginning. That he sent her
here to treat with you secretly, but the Dornishmen unmasked them and betrayed
them before she could make her own approach.”
    Treachery on treachery
, the queen thought
wearily.
Is there no end to it?
“How much of this do you
believe, ser?”
    “Little and less, Your Grace, but those were her words.”
    “Will they come over to us, if need be?”
    “She says they will. But for a price.”
    “Pay it.” Meereen needed iron, not gold.
    “The Tattered Prince will want more than coin, Your Grace.
Meris says that he wants Pentos.”
    “Pentos?” Her eyes narrowed. “How can I give him Pentos? It
is half a world away.”
    “He would be willing to wait, the woman Meris suggested.
Until we march for Westeros.”
    And if I never march for Westeros?
“Pentos
belongs to the Pentoshi. And Magister Illyrio is in Pentos. He who arranged my
marriage to Khal Drogo and gave me my dragon eggs. Who sent me you, and Belwas,
and Groleo. I owe him much and more. I will
not
repay that debt
by giving his city to some sellsword. No.”
    Ser Barristan inclined his head. “Your Grace is wise.”
    “Have you ever seen such an auspicious day, my love?”
Hizdahr zo Loraq commented when she rejoined him. He helped Dany up onto the palanquin,
where two tall thrones stood side by side.
    “Auspicious for you, perhaps. Less so for those who must die
before the sun goes down.”
    “All men must die,” said Hizdahr, “but not all can die in
glory, with the cheers of the city ringing in their ears.” He lifted a hand to
the soldiers on the doors. “Open.”
    The plaza that fronted on her pyramid was paved with bricks
of many colors, and the heat rose from them in shimmering waves. People swarmed
everywhere. Some rode litters or sedan chairs, some forked donkeys, many were
afoot. Nine of every ten were moving westward, down the broad brick
thoroughfare to Daznak’s Pit. When they caught sight of the palanquin emerging
from the pyramid, a cheer went up from those nearest and spread across the
plaza.
How queer
, the queen thought.
They cheer me on
the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters
.
    A great drum led the royal procession to clear their way
through the streets. Between each beat, a shavepate herald in a shirt of
polished copper disks cried for the crowd to part.
BOMM
. “They
come!”
BOMM
. “Make way!”
BOMM
. “The queen!”
BOMM
.
“The king!”
BOMM
. Behind the drum marched Brazen Beasts four
abreast. Some carried cudgels, others staves; all wore pleated skirts, leathern
sandals, and patchwork cloaks sewn from squares of many colors to echo the
many-colored bricks of Meereen. Their masks gleamed in the sun: boars and
bulls, hawks and herons, lions and tigers and bears, fork-tongued serpents and
hideous basilisks.
    Strong Belwas, who had no love for horses, walked in front
of them in his studded vest, his scarred brown belly jiggling with every step.
Irri and Jhiqui followed ahorse, with Aggo and Rakharo, then Reznak in an
ornate sedan chair with an awning to keep the sun off his head. Ser Barristan
Selmy rode at Dany’s side, his armor flashing in the sun. A long cloak flowed
from his shoulders, bleached as white as bone. On his left arm was a large
white shield. A little farther back was Quentyn Martell, the Dornish prince,
with his two companions.
    The column crept slowly down the long brick street.
BOMM
.
“They come!”
BOMM
. “Our