"Ten... No, no, a thousand!" The Asshai man's eyes, predominantly white, now gleamed with a wild golden hue. "Mother of Dragons, fifty thousand gold honors—how about that?"
"That's not too expensive," Daenerys nodded.
A sly glint flashed in the scrawny man's eyes as he added, "I meant fifty thousand per egg. For both, it's one hundred thousand."
"Hiss—" The elderly woman selling fermented goat milk next to him inhaled sharply, exclaiming, "You were selling them for just ten silver coins before, and no one even bought them!"
"Wow!" The surrounding crowd was stunned by the price of the dragon eggs.
"Isn't a dragon worth at least fifty thousand gold coins?" Baukhan's black face flushed red as he shouted to the crowd, "The Mother of Dragons herself has verified it! These are real dragon eggs from Asshai, treasures that can hatch into true dragons!"
"Ahem," Daenerys interrupted, leaning close to his ear and whispering, "Now you're just being excessive. These are shattered fossilized dragon eggs. Even I couldn't hatch a dragon from them."
"You're lying!" he hissed back in a low, furious tone, barely squeezing the words through clenched teeth.
Daenerys chuckled. "Am I? You know the truth as well as I do. And even if I were lying, people would still believe me—don't you think?"
"Great Mother of Dragons, how about... ten thousand... no," the scrawny man's tone softened as he begged, "Five thousand gold honors? For both eggs?"
"Why would I need two pieces of broken stone?" Daenerys shook her head. As despair flickered in his eyes, she added something that lifted his spirits once more. "But I won't deliberately ruin your business plan either."
"Thank you, thank you, Mother of Dragons!" Tears almost flowed down Baukhan's face as he was overcome by gratitude after the emotional rollercoaster.
"But there's a condition," Daenerys said, flashing a smile that revealed four pearly-white teeth. "You need to answer two questions."
"Two? I'd answer twenty if you asked!" The Asshai man nodded so vigorously it seemed his head might fall off.
Jorah and Whitebeard, ever-vigilant, subtly moved to shield Daenerys from the prying eyes of the crowd as she leaned closer to the merchant for a private conversation.
Daenerys asked softly, "Where did you get these broken fossilized dragon eggs?"
Baukhan quickly replied, **"It's said that Asshai is the birthplace of dragons. Long ago, explorers discovered dragon eggs deep within caves in the mountains.
I don't know if the stories are true—I've never seen a real, hatchable dragon egg. But in Asshai, there are indeed fossilized dragon eggs.
You see, Asshai is incredibly inhospitable for human life. Even food and water have to be imported by merchant ships. But we have abundant gold and silver mines.
Occasionally, the slaves working in the mines will unearth dragon egg fossils, or peculiar gemstones resembling dragon eggs.
Most of the time, we can't tell if they're actual dragon eggs or just gems. Typically, we sell them as gemstones for a higher price than ordinary jade.
However, sorcerers and Red Priests use dragon egg fossils in their rituals. In Asshai, it's well-known that they've repeatedly attempted to hatch dragons from these fossils.
But how could that be possible? Stone is dead. Even if it was once a dragon egg, after thousands of years, how could life emerge from it?"**
Baukhan glanced at Daenerys with a mix of awe and curiosity before lowering his voice. "Where did your dragons come from?"
"Go home and ask your mother," Daenerys snapped irritably.
"My mother's dead," he muttered.
Sensing her mood, Baukhan quickly returned to the topic, both regretful and relieved. **"These two eggs I have were failures from one such experiment. They were burned and shattered by wildfire—the fire mage who sold them to me told me as much.
At first, I thought he was lying and didn't believe they were dragon eggs. But today, you confirmed it."**
"Fire mages," Whitebeard muttered, his blue eyes filled with astonishment. "I didn't expect the sorcerers of Asshai to be just as mad."
"How much did you pay for them?" Jorah interjected.
"Five thousand gold—" Baukhan began, but under the knight's piercing gaze, he faltered and sheepishly held up two fingers. "Two silver coins. But that doesn't include my craftsmanship fees—"
Daenerys cut him off. "Enough nonsense. One last question: Do you know where I can find more dragon egg fossils?"
Baukhan nodded emphatically. "Asshai has them. In the magic towers of the great sorcerers, many of them have one or two dragon eggs—real or fake—either as decorations or in the hope of hatching a dragon someday."
"Great Mother of Dragons, you cannot even imagine the extent of their longing for dragons. If you had dragon dung, you could trade it in Asshai for its weight in gold."
Dragon dung?
Daenerys's three dragons did produce excrement, but compared to what they consumed, the amount was minuscule—dark, stone-like lumps.
However, Daenerys didn't discard them in a midden. Instead, she collected them. Part of it was ground into powder and mixed with feed for the horses.
Whether it strengthened them or not was uncertain, but the warhorses of her 80 Unsullied gradually stopped trembling under the dragons' aura.
In the future, if her forces clashed with enemy cavalry, a single pass of a dragon overhead could leave her own troops unaffected while half of the enemy's mounts would collapse.
Indeed, the power of a dragon's presence was undeniable. Daenerys had tested it herself—wherever a dragon lingered, all beasts scattered.
Even direwolves, considered legendary magical beasts, had similar effects. Robb Stark often unleashed his direwolf to disrupt enemy cavalry formations during battles.
Even the usually docile gelded warhorses would panic at the mere scent of a direwolf, becoming uncontrollable even for seasoned knights.
"Sell me a bottle of your stone-binding adhesive," Daenerys said.
Baukhan looked surprised. "You too...?"
"Hmm?" Daenerys raised an eyebrow, her tone sharpening.
"Understood! Understood! I get it!" Baukhan's demeanor turned cheerful, as if he had found a kindred spirit in a distant land. He shot her a knowing look and rummaged behind his stall, producing a glass bottle about the size of a fist.
He tore a piece of parchment, quickly scribbled on it, and handed it to her alongside the bottle. "Here you go: the adhesive, the formula, and even methods to mask any color discrepancies. Everything is included. Foolproof, guaranteed!"
"How much?" Daenerys asked.
"Ten silver coins," Baukhan said, rubbing his hands eagerly.
"You're bold to ask for that," Jorah remarked with a cold smile.
"This adhesive was purchased from an Asshai sorcerer!" Baukhan defended.
Daenerys pulled two thick silver medallions from her belt and placed them in his hand. "Will this do?"
Each medallion was the size of her palm and remarkably hefty, unlike ordinary silver coins, which were only as large as a small coin.
Baukhan's face lit up with joy as he fondled the medallions, repeatedly exclaiming, "More than enough, absolutely sufficient!"
As Daenerys's group moved forward, parting the crowd of merchants and travelers, the gathering around Baukhan's stall only grew. People clamored to see the dragon eggs for themselves.
Leaving the bustling marketplace behind, Daenerys arrived at the seaside embankment.
The gray-black rocky coastline stretched out like fingers from a hand, with several long stone piers extending into the bay for one or two kilometers. Each pier was lined with ships of various shapes and sizes.
The central pier, akin to a "middle finger," occupied the best position—not only shielded from the fierce winds and waves of the Narrow Sea but also conveniently close to both the commercial and warehouse districts.
This pier was exclusively reserved for the Thirteen.
Daenerys even spotted Xaro's figure. His luxurious ox-drawn carriage was parked beneath a grand ship with "Cinnabar Kiss" painted in white on its side.
Two gangplanks connected the Cinnabar Kiss to the stone pier. One was used to unload goods: shirtless sailors carried crates of saffron, frankincense, and pepper—precious spices from the East—down to wagons waiting beside the ship.
The other was used to load goods onto the ship: barrels of wine, bundles of sourleaf, and rolls of zebra hide were taken from the wagons and carried aboard into the now-empty hold.
The ship might set sail tonight, riding the tide.
"This process is certainly efficient, but don't ships need maintenance? And the sailors—they've just returned to Qarth and already have to reload and depart. Aren't they exhausted?" Daenerys asked, puzzled.
Jorah considered her question. "Perhaps they'll rotate the crew. As for the ship, a thorough inspection every six months should suffice. The Jade Sea is calmer, and the voyages are shorter."
From his carriage, Xaro also noticed Daenerys and her group. However, neither side seemed inclined to initiate a conversation. Xaro turned back to direct his workers, and Daenerys continued her steady journey along the coastline.
Next to the pier of the Thirteen, at a location resembling the "ring finger," there was another long stone pier, this one belonging to the Spicer Guild.
Daenerys could easily guess that the pier on the other side, the "index finger," likely belonged to the Tourmaline Brotherhood.
The three great merchant guilds of Qarth occupied the most prime sections of the docks.
The Spicer Guild's pier was bustling with activity. A crowd had gathered around a galley named Sunblaze, loudly bidding for slaves.
"Everyone knows that to buy slaves cheaply, you must purchase them dockside," Jorah explained to Daenerys.
"Are they from Slaver's Bay?" Daenerys frowned.
Standing in his stirrups, Jorah squinted at the banner flying atop the Sunblaze's main mast. He hesitated before saying, "It looks like they're from Astapor. Look at the harpy on the flag—her talons grip a heavy chain, and at each end of the chain are open manacles. That's Astapor's emblem."
"Are they selling Unsullied?" Daenerys stood on tiptoe, trying to see, but all she saw were naked men and women—not a single Unsullied wearing their signature spiked helmets.
"Unsullied are high-value slaves. They wouldn't be sold here," Jorah said, shaking his head.
"Hmm, there are Dothraki among them." Daenerys noticed a group of bronze-skinned youths with almond-shaped eyes and long braids—unmistakably Dothraki.
They looked young, mostly teenagers, none older than twenty.
"Unsullied are trained from childhood. Adult Dothraki are usually sent to Meereen to become gladiators. How did they end up here?" Jorah seemed equally puzzled.
"Ser Jorah, you and Aggo go and buy them," Daenerys instructed, halting her mount at the pier's entrance. Jorah and Aggo dismounted and quickly pushed through the crowd.
About a quarter of an hour later, the two returned, leading a string of young Dothraki boys.
By now, the slaves were wearing drab gray linen skirts, the typical attire of Qartheen men.
Earlier, they had been stripped naked to allow buyers to inspect their bodies more conveniently.
There were about twenty of them, each with a bronze slave collar around their neck. Their faces no longer bore the characteristic defiance of the Dothraki, their eyes darting nervously as they avoided looking directly at Daenerys atop her horse.
They had already been broken by the Astapori slavers, Daenerys thought with a heavy heart.
(Chapter End)
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