A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

than my bloodriders, and
the Dothraki mistrust the sea and those who sail her. Only you can serve me in
this. Go among the ships and speak to the crews, learn where they are from and
where they are bound and what manner of men command them.”
    Reluctantly, the exile nodded. “As you say, my queen.”
    When all the men had gone, her handmaids stripped off the travel-stained silks
she wore, and Dany padded out to where

the marble pool sat in the shade of a
portico. The water was deliciously cool,
and the pool was stocked with tiny golden fish that nibbled curiously at her
skin and made her giggle. It felt good to close her eyes and float, knowing she
could rest as long as she liked. She wondered whether Aegon’s Red Keep had a
pool like this, and fragrant gardens full of lavender and mint.
It must,
surely. Viserys always said the Seven Kingdoms were more beautiful than any
other place in the world.
    The thought of home disquieted her. If her sun-and-stars had lived, he would
have led his
khalasar
across the poison water and swept away her
enemies, but his strength had left the world. Her bloodriders remained, sworn
to her for life and skilled in slaughter, but only in the ways of the
horselords. The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not
rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full
of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears.
I want to make my
kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing
children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys
said they smiled for my father.
    But before she could do that she must conquer.
    The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise,
Mormont had said. Robert
had slain her gallant brother Rhaegar, and one of his creatures had crossed the
Dothraki sea to poison her and her unborn son. They said Robert Baratheon was
strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than
war. And with him stood the great lords her brother had named the Usurper’s

dogs, cold-eyed Eddard Stark with his frozen heart, and the golden Lannisters,
father and son, so rich, so powerful, so treacherous.
    How could she hope to overthrow such men? When Khal Drogo had lived, men
trembled and made him gifts to stay his wrath. If they did not, he took their
cities, wealth and wives and all. But his
khalasar
had been vast,
while hers was meager. Her people had followed her across the red waste as she
chased her comet, and would follow her across the poison water too, but they
would not be enough. Even her dragons might not be enough. Viserys had believed
that the realm would rise for its rightful king . . . but
Viserys had been a fool, and fools believe in foolish things.
    Her doubts made her shiver. Suddenly the water felt cold to her, and the little
fish prickling at her skin annoying. Dany stood and climbed from the pool.
“Irri,” she called, “Jhiqui.”
    As the handmaids toweled her dry and wrapped her in a sandsilk robe, Dany’s
thoughts went to the three who had sought her out in the City of Bones.
The Bleeding Star led me to Qarth for a purpose. Here I will find what I
need, if I have the strength to take what is offered, and the wisdom to avoid
the traps and snares. If the gods mean for me to conquer, they will provide,
they will send me a sign, and if not . . . if
not . . .
    It was near evenfall and Dany was feeding her dragons when Irri stepped through
the silken curtains to tell her that Ser Jorah had returned from the
docks . . . and not alone. “Send him in, with whomever he has
brought,” she said, curious.
    When they entered, she was seated on a mound of cushions,

her dragons all about her. The man he brought with him wore a cloak of green
and yellow feathers and had skin as black as polished jet. “Your Grace,” the
knight said, “I bring you Quhuru Mo, captain of the
Cinnamon Wind
out of Tall Trees Town.”
    The black man knelt. “I am greatly honored, my queen,” he said; not in the
tongue of the Summer Isles, which Dany did not know, but in the liquid Valyrian
of the Nine Free Cities.
    â€œThe honor is mine, Quhuru Mo,” said Dany in the same language. “Have you
come from the Summer Isles?”
    â€œThis is so, Your Grace, but before, not half a year past, we called at
Oldtown. From there I bring you a wondrous