The land was red and dead and parched, and good wood was hard to come by. Her foragers returnedwith gnarled cottonwoods, purple brush, sheaves of brown grass. They took the two straightest trees,hacked the limbs and branches from them, skinned off their bark, and split them, laying the logs in asquare. Its center they filled with straw, brush, bark shavings, and bundles of dry grass. Rakharochose a stallion from the small herd that remained to them; he was not the equal of Khal Drogo’s red,but few horses were. In the center of the square, Aggo fed him a withered apple and dropped him inan instant with an axe blow between the eyes.

Bound hand and foot, Mirri Maz Duur watched from the dust with disquiet in her black eyes. “It isnot enough to kill a horse,” she told Dany. “By itself, the blood is nothing. You do not have the wordsto make a spell, nor the wisdom to find them. Do you think bloodmagic is a game for children? Youcall me maegi as if it were a curse, but all it means is wise. You are a child, with a child’s ignorance.

Whatever you mean to do, it will not work. Loose me from these bonds and I will help you.”

“I am tired of the maegi’s braying,” Dany told Jhogo. He took his whip to her, and after that thegodswife kept silent.

Over the carcass of the horse, they built a platform of hewn logs; trunks of smaller trees and limbsfrom the greater, and the thickest straightest branches they could find. They laid the wood east towest, from sunrise to sunset. On the platform they piled Khal Drogo’s treasures: his great tent, hispainted vests, his saddles and harness, the whip his father had given him when he came to manhood,the arakh he had used to slay Khal Ogo and his son, a mighty dragonbone bow. Aggo would haveadded the weapons Drogo’s bloodriders had given Dany for bride gifts as well, but she forbade it.

“Those are mine,” she told him, “and I mean to keep them.” Another layer of brush was piled aboutthe khal’s treasures, and bundles of dried grass scattered over them.

Ser Jorah Mormont drew her aside as the sun was creeping toward its zenith. “Princess …” hebegan.

“Why do you call me that?” Dany challenged him. “My brother Viserys was your king, was henot?”

“He was, my lady.”

“Viserys is dead. I am his heir, the last blood of House Targaryen. Whatever was his is minenow.”

“My … queen,” Ser Jorah said, going to one knee. “My sword that was his is yours, Daenerys.

And my heart as well, that never belonged to your brother. I am only a knight, and I have nothing tooffer you but exile, but I beg you, hear me. Let Khal Drogo go. You shall not be alone. I promise you,no man shall take you to Vaes Dothrak unless you wish to go. You need not join the dosh khaleen.

Come east with me. Yi Ti, Qarth, the Jade Sea, Asshai by the Shadow. We will see all the wondersyet unseen, and drink what wines the gods see fit to serve us. Please, Khaleesi. I know what youintend. Do not. Do not.”

“I must,” Dany told him. She touched his face, fondly, sadly. “You do not understand.”

“I understand that you loved him,” Ser Jorah said in a voice thick with despair. “I loved my ladywife once, yet I did not die with her. You are my queen, my sword is yours, but do not ask me tostand aside as you climb on Drogo’s pyre. I will not watch you burn.”

“Is that what you fear?” Dany kissed him lightly on his broad forehead. “I am not such a child asthat, sweet ser.”

“You do not mean to die with him? You swear it, my queen?”

“I swear it,” she said in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms that by rights were hers.

The third level of the platform was woven of branches no thicker than a finger, and covered withdry leaves and twigs. They laid them north to south, from ice to fire, and piled them high with softcushions and sleeping silks. The sun had begun to lower toward the west by the time they were done.

Dany called the Dothraki around her. Fewer than a hundred were left. How many had Aegon startedwith? she wondered. It did not matter.

“You will be my khalasar,” she told them. “I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off yourcollars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. If you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters, husbandsand wives.” The black eyes watched her, wary, expressionless. “I see the children, women, thewrinkled faces of the aged. I was a child yesterday. Today I am a woman. Tomorrow I will be old. Toeach of you I say, give me your hands and your hearts, and there will always be a place for you.” Sheturned to the three young warriors of her khas. “Jhogo, to you I give the silver-handled whip that wasmy bride gift, and name you ko, and ask your oath, that you will live and die as blood of my blood,riding at my side to keep me safe from harm.”

Jhogo took the whip from her hands, but his face was confused. “Khaleesi,” he said hesitantly,“this is not done. It would shame me, to be bloodrider to a woman.”

“Aggo,” Dany called, paying no heed to Jhogo’s words. If I look back I am lost. “To you I givethe dragonbone bow that was my bride gift.” It was double-curved, shiny black and exquisite, tallerthan she was. “I name you ko, and ask your oath, that you should live and die as blood of my blood,riding at my side to keep me safe from harm.”

Aggo accepted the bow with lowered eyes. “I cannot say these words. Only a man can lead akhalasar or name a ko.”

“Rakharo,” Dany said, turning away from the refusal, “you shall have the great arakh that was mybride gift, with hilt and blade chased in gold. And you too I name my ko, and ask that you live and dieas blood of my blood, riding at my side to keep me safe from harm.”

“You are khaleesi,” Rakharo said, taking the arakh. “I shall ride at your side to Vaes Dothrakbeneath the Mother of Mountains, and keep you safe from harm until you take your place with thecrones of the dosh khaleen. No more can I promise.”

She nodded, as calmly as if she had not heard his answer, and turned to the last of her champions.

“Ser Jorah Mormont,” she said, “first and greatest of my knights, I have no bride gift to give you,but I swear to you, one day you shall have from my hands a longsword like none the world has everseen, dragon-forged and made of Valyrian steel. And I would ask for your oath as well.”

“You have it, my queen,” Ser Jorah said, kneeling to lay his sword at her feet. “I vow to serveyou, to obey you, to die for you if need be.”

“Whatever may come?”

“Whatever may come.”

“I shall hold you to that oath. I pray you never regret the giving of it.” Dany lifted him to his feet.

Stretching on her toes to reach his lips, she kissed the knight gently and said, “You are the first of myQueensguard.”

She could feel the eyes of the khalasar on her as she entered her tent. The Dothraki were mutteringand giving her strange sideways looks from the corners of their dark almond eyes. They thought hermad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost.

Her bath was scalding hot when Irri helped her into the tub, but Dany did not flinch or cry aloud.

She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Jhiqui had scented the water with the oils she had found inthe market in Vaes Dothrak; the steam rose moist and fragrant. Doreah washed her hair and combed itout, working loose the mats and tangles. Irri scrubbed her back. Dany closed her eyes and let thesmell and the warmth enfold her. She could feel the heat soaking through the soreness between herthighs. She shuddered when it entered her, and her pain and stiffness seemed to dissolve. She floated.

When she was clean, her handmaids helped her from the water. Irri and Jhiqui fanned her dry,while Doreah brushed her hair until it fell like a river of liquid silver down her back. They scented herwith spiceflower and cinnamon; a touch on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her milk-heavybreasts. The last dab was for her sex. Irri’s finger felt as light and cool as a lover’s kiss as it slid softlyup between her lips.

Afterward, Dany sent them all away, so she might prepare Khal Drogo for his final ride into thenight lands. She washed his body clean and brushed and oiled his hair, running her fingers through itfor the last time, feeling the weight of it, remembering the first time she had touched it, the night oftheir wedding ride. His hair had never been cut. How many men could die with their hair uncut? Sheburied her face in it and inhaled the dark fragrance of the oils. He smelled like grass and warm earth,like smoke and semen and horses. He smelled like Drogo. Forgive me, sun of my life, she thought.

Forgive me for all I have done and all I must do. I paid the price, my star, but it was too high, toohigh …tfor the last time, feeling the weight of it, remembering the first time she had touched it, the night oftheir wedding ride. His hair had never been cut. How many men could die with their hair uncut? Sheburied her face in it and inhaled the dark fragrance of the oils. He smelled like grass and warm earth,like smoke and semen and horses. He smelled like Drogo. Forgive me, sun of my life, she thought.

Forgive me for all I have done and all I must do. I paid the price, my star, but it was too high, toohigh …Dany braided his hair and slid the silver rings onto his mustache and hung his bells one by one. Somany bells, gold and silver and bronze. Bells so his enemies would hear him coming and grow weakwith fear. She dressed him in horsehair leggings and high boots, buckling a belt heavy with gold andsilver medallions about his waist. Over his scarred chest she slipped a painted vest, old and faded, theone Drogo had loved best. For herself she chose loose sandsilk trousers, sandals that laced halfway upher legs, and a vest like Drogo’s.

The sun was going down when she called them back to carry his body to the pyre. The Dothrakiwatched in silence ............