《Breaker of the Wheel》
Prologue: The Times Yet to Come
Cool wind wafted through the glittering palaces of Meereen. A wind that had borne witness to many things. This was the wind that had touched the heights of the tallest towers, and the shoulders of every king. This was the wind that swept the dusts of the slums, the broken faces of countless beggars. Ages have passed. Palaces, dynasties, names and ages had come and went. Of them, only the wind remains, scattering their memories to a thousand different worlds.
Doors opened, and the wind flew in, shaking the room with its cold cry. It drifted over the walls and the floors. The golden scepters and silver goblets. Over the face of Daenerys Stormborn, who stood tall and proud against the wind.
To her credit, she did not shiver.
¡°You are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Queen of the Andals and the First men. Breaker of Chains, and mother of dragons.¡±
On her throne, Daenerys tilted her head. She¡¯d heard a great many men already. Petitioners, masters, scoundrels and slaves. She paid them attention and listened, as befitting of a queen. But they were like the wind, soon arrived and soon departed. Their faces seemed to melt away at times. Just like the face of the servants did, when she was a girl.
Ser Barristan came forward and bowed. ¡°Your grace. I am honored to introduce Master Ming, from the lands of the far east beyond Yi ti. A well traveled and read man.¡±
Her ears perked up slightly. Viserys had told her of Yi Ti, at times. Before he became a cruel, vicious man. The boy she missed had told her about an azure blue sky and shining palaces, rimmed and carved with solid gold.
Not as grand as Westeros, not by half, or so he had said. Westeros was a place of might and honor. A place the decadent emperor¡¯s palace in the east could not hope to match. They were greedy men, those merchants, Viserys had told her. Their eyes saw nothing but gold.
As her eyes wandered over the man, she was beginning to think that Viserys was wrong. The man was not tall, but it did not seem that way. Despite being in a queen¡¯s court, he made no move to bow. Where most would lower themselves he only stood taller, and in his eyes there was an intensity that would have unnerved almost anyone.
But Daenarys was not just anyone. She was a queen. So she offered a regal nod instead. ¡°Welcome, Master Ming. What brings a traveler so far to Meereen?¡±
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A small smile spread across his face. ¡°A tale to share, and a queen to see. You have made a name for yourself, your grace. Radiant as a star in this dark world. Few see slavery for what it is. Fewer dare take action against it. To liberate cities, why, there is perhaps only one such woman in all history.¡±
Flattery. But it was done well. Daenarys found her smile coming easier. ¡°And the tale?¡±
¡°I am uncertain if it is possible. But if you take a ship and journey far, far east, beyond even Yi Ti and the Jade Sea, you will find my home. A small island, but home to a great people. We have something of a grand dream. A land where disease is put down. Where man need not fear hunger nor cold, oppression or poverty. Where even the lowest and most wretched of men may dare to seek greatness.¡±
His voice was strong, filled with the conviction of a man who did not doubt himself, and when he spoke the fire in his eyes seemed to make dragonbreath appear dim. A madman? Such a grand dream, a child¡¯s dream, many would say. Yet¡ the way he spoke. She saw Ser Barristan shifting already.
¡°Your Grace.¡± He bowed the stiff bow men used to hide embarrassment.. ¡°I must apologize. I will-¡±
¡°No need.¡± Daenarys said. She turned towards the man again. ¡°Tell me more.¡±
¡°We are a people of scholars. Come to our island, and head further still, and you will find a different world. Our history has borne witness to great defeats and triumphs alike, and the lives of countless empires.¡±
Daenerys smiled. She had heard many people from many lands, but this Master Ming seemed more interesting than most. A good storyteller, maybe with more myth than truth to his tale. Words were wind. But some were more pleasant to hear than others.
¡°There are so many more tales I could share. More than many could find time to hear. There is very little that you would not be able to find. Arts of war. Of ruling. Of making and enforcing laws. Of crafts and knowledge. Even the most well learned man cannot claim to know them all, and for all my life¡¯s study I still know only very little. But I wish to share them with you, my queen, because I trust that there are many things you shall find value in.¡± He pulled something out of his robes.
A box of sorts appeared in his hands. He touched it, and it lit up. ¡°A gift from me, my grace, as proof of my identity.¡± He began stepping forwards. Barristan gripped his sheath, but Daenarys motioned for him to be at peace. His hands did not leave his sword.
She gasped as she saw the painting. Visceral, real. Almost as clear as it would have been, if she was there herself. In the box, she had a glimpse of a city. Massive, towering, sprawling buildings filling every inch of ground.
¡°Life is not perfect here.¡± Master Ming said. ¡°But it is far grander than any peasant or slave can imagine. Perhaps only one man of every ten will know what it is to be hungry, and fewer than one in every thousand will die because of it.¡±
¡°Impossible.¡± Barristain¡¯s voice held a shadow of a growl.
¡°Perhaps. With a more fallen, degenerate age. A worse ruler.¡± His eyes never left hers. ¡°But believe me, my queen, it is possible. I have seen it. I have lived it. And I know what it is to live in far darker times, times such as these. Is it not the poor, the downtrodden, and the innocent who suffer the most, when you kings and queens play your game of thrones? Three hundred years, and the wheel spins on. Time has come for it to break, my queen, and I trust we share this goal.¡±
Daenerys smiled. It was a warm, pure smile, born from joy that came from the soul. She felt warm, warmer than she had ever been. It was as if his words had become fire and grasped her heart.
He drew the box back, and it turned dark. Daenarys found herself staring at the man, eyes wide. ¡°What was that place?¡± She demanded.
¡°A picture.¡± He said. ¡°Of the times yet to come.¡±
Chapter 1: The Honest Man
Power. Power meant the end of the game.
Power to strike out, to survive. To command armies and burn cities to the ground. The wheel had it, for the longest time, and thus the wheel survived. To break the wheel was a simple matter. Get power, and get more of it. Then put it to use. The game would not end until one person claimed victory for good. Ethan Ming knew this. At this time, he may have known better than anyone else.
He saw the queen¡¯s eyes on him. She had been through no small amount of suffering. He knew it. He saw it, after all. But under the thin veil of majesty she hid herself under, Ethan knew he was still looking at the eyes of a young woman. A young woman that thought very much like a child.
It would suit his purposes.
¡°Could I make Meereen such a place?¡± Daenarys¡¯ voice came.
Ethan¡¯s eyes returned to her. ¡°Perhaps. Perhaps not. It would be the work of a lifetime, of many lifetimes. But there is no doubt that it can be done. It has been, after all.¡±
He gauged her reaction. His mind was spinning already. It was quite an effort, not lying while not being entirely honest. But it was one of many unfortunate necessities. It would not do to lose her favor or direct her in the wrong direction, even if it was for telling the truth. Especially if it was just for the truth. He would find himself in no trouble as long as she never found out.
He watched her face change as she took the information in. Awe, desire, ambition in one part. A sadness of sorts in the other, with hints of impatience. Not too different from what he would have expected. But then there was the important part.
¡°How?¡±
Ethan had thought of it, long before coming into the palace. There was a good amount of things he had in mind, but knowing the plan and executing it were two different things. And getting credibility, winning trust, having the support to see it completed. No, the risk was too large, he had concluded. Far better to be safe.
His answer came with a practiced ease. ¡°I am no king, your grace. I come from a distant land, and knowledge without experience is of little use alone.¡± Humble and reasonable. No immediate power, but influence and credibility will be easier to obtain. He was satisfied with that.
¡°The path to what you saw will be different for every kingdom, for every people. Much as a ship may take many routes to its destination, although a few may be the most traveled.¡± Enough to explain changes, and errors, yet also enough to grant credibility for whatever suggestions he may make. Sufficient for the time being.
In his mind, he saw possibilities open and close. Being regent was no longer likely, although it would have been difficult to begin. Neither was remaining entirely on the fringes possible..
It was something of an art, winning trust, gaining influence. Not all was according to plan, but fast thinking and forward thinking would give him something of an advantage. It felt a little sad, at times, being unable to be completely honest. Doctoring every word. But it would serve him better, in the long run.
He saw her eyes gleam. ¡°And what path might that be?¡±
The question caught him off guard. The plan wasn¡¯t mature or complete yet, and rather lacking in many areas. No, more down to earth expectations would be better.
¡°Changes in the way men live and work, in governance. In how they think and how they learn. And more. It would be impossible to explain in such a short time. Books have been written on the course kingdoms have risen to greatness, and countless kingdoms have. For yours, I cannot say. I must have more information to make a judgment. Sweeping conclusions, I fear, are the tools of con men and all manner of tricksters. I could tell you of the path my home took, if you like. Though I fear I must do so at another time.¡±
¡°I see.¡± He saw some of the fire in her eyes burn out now. What was it that she was now feeling? Doubt? Uncertainty? No, he needed to strike the iron while it was still hot. It was only when Barristan motioned that Ethan realized his mistake.
¡°Yes, good Ser?¡±
Ethan hid his frown. He took too long.
¡°I always hated politics, your grace. There was very little I had to offer to your father, save my sword. I have always counted myself last among those who should advise queens.¡±
¡°You are too harsh, good Ser.¡± Daenarys protested. ¡°You will always remain a trusted advisor of mine.¡±
¡°Take my advice then, your grace. Do not trust this man.¡±
The room fell silent suddenly, and Ethan became aware of Barristan¡¯s eyes. Not a glare, but unfriendly. Like some seasoned cop hearing a drunkard¡¯s excuses. He moved his hands behind his back to clench them.
Ethan chuckled. ¡°I have heard that men¡¯s eyes fail them in old age. Clearly it is not the case for knights, Ser Barristan. I must commend you as an excellent judge of character.¡±
Two pairs of eyes stared at him. Then Daenarys laughed. ¡°Indeed, good Ser, it seems to me that he is quite a dishonest man.¡±
Ethan faced Barristan now. ¡°I am a man of many faults, honorable Ser. But I must beg you to entertain my curiosity. Which was it that made you mislike me?¡±
The knight¡¯s eyes narrowed. To his credit, he kept his composure. ¡°For honest men, words are never difficult to find. They do not weave webs around the truth. This man speaks like another I know.¡±
¡°Varys, the spider.¡± He spat it out like sour wine.
¡°A eunuch that no man can trust. I know very little of politics, your grace, but I cannot say any different for this man.¡±
¡°It does not befit a knight to be dishonest.¡± Ethan chided. ¡°Why, you know more than most kings!¡±
Dany¡¯s giggles were more forced this time. Barristan remained unamused.
¡°But you are right.¡± Ethan conceded. ¡°I must apologize if you feel deceived, but a traveler cannot be too careful in speaking to kings. A man in these times can travel far, and in far and strange places there are rulers that are stranger yet. There are courts where the tiniest breaches of etiquette could have one ignored or exiled, and even more where it could be death. A traveler must thus choose his words carefully, to ensure no offense is given. But this is a civilized land, and I feel quite safe. If there is any question you would ask of me, ask freely. I will answer with as much truth as I can.¡±
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¡°You speak of truth like some dear thing you are loath to part with.¡±
Ethan did his best impression of a guilty smile. ¡°I am no knight, good Ser. There are a great deal of embarrassments, scandals, misunderstandings and funny tales alike I could share. But I will ask as a proud man that you spare me the humiliation of sharing.¡±
Dany¡¯s eyes lit up now. ¡°Oh? Do tell.¡±
¡°I do implore you for mercy, your grace.¡± Ethan said. His faux panic was more real this time.
The mother of dragons was not in a merciful mood that day.
And so Ethan went on and on with real and fake stories of his travels. Paying gold instead of silver. Language misunderstandings that almost ended in a marriage. A sorry dressmaker, who wove some wretched cloth that fell off the moment he left the shop. By the end of it all Dany was laughing like some little girl. Barristan stood by, the impassive frown never leaving his face. But Ethan noticed he didn¡¯t speak up, and was content with that.
It was almost a disappointment when they returned to official business.
¡°The path changes. A kingdom is oft beset by many problems, and many problems have many solutions. I am aware of a few, but I must admit to ignorance. If I may, my grace, what plagues your mind? Perhaps it is a problem my people encountered some time ago. I may have a solution.¡±
He saw her eyes brighten up again, though not as bright as they had been when he was entertaining her with stories.. ¡°Have you heard of the sons of the harpy, Master Ming?¡±
¡°Misfits and murderers, criminals all. They are the worst of men.¡±
¡°Quite so.¡± Daenarys fumed, and for a moment her composure cracked. ¡°They come in the dark to slit the throats of honest men, and when my soldiers come they hide like cockroaches.¡±
¡°Insurgents and rebels, then. What have your whisperers discovered about them?¡±
There was a sudden silence. In moments, she had regained her composure. ¡°I have not had a need for whisperers.¡± Caught off guard, saving face. Ethan knew the feeling.
¡°Of course.¡± He said, good naturedly. ¡°It would not do to spy on one¡¯s subjects when they are doing honest work. I am sure that the slaves you so kindly freed are loyal men.¡±
He saw her cheeks puff up slightly. ¡°Of course.¡±
¡°Though the same does not seem to be true of these criminals.¡±
¡°No.¡± She agreed. Ethan waited for some time. ¡°Perhaps now is the time.¡±
Ethan¡¯s mouth twitched as he bowed. ¡°You are wise, my grace. Would you hear a recommendation of mine?¡±
¡°Speak freely.¡±
¡°I am a chronicler, and gathering tales is part of my profession. I have a talent of sorts for finding stories, and any tale on the harpies may be able to help your grace show them justice. If you could provide me with a stipend, I may be able to find some whisperers for you. I am a foreigner, and new. No failure of mine shall reflect poorly on anyone. Perhaps you could entrust me with a small sum of gold, which I could use to obtain some whisperers.¡±
And just like that, his palms were out.
Barristan¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You grace, I must counsel against this. He asks for much, and offers more. Perhaps more than is reasonable.¡±
Daenarys hid her frown well. She turned to Ethan. ¡°You seem to be an honest man.¡±
Ethan¡¯s smile changed. ¡°I am glad.¡± That it seems that way, he added silently.
¡°The harpies are dangerous. Finding information will not be easy.¡± Discouraging. She wanted him to not have the job, but wouldn¡¯t be so impolite as to say it. Ethan saw Barristan nod.
There were a few possibilities. Lack of trust was likely the real reason. Lack of trust in his credibility, in his capabilities. Ethan thought for some time. ¡°It will be difficult, no doubt. But to succeed a man must first try. Time is of the essence, your grace. Innocents paint your cities red. Certainly I owe them an honest attempt. Perhaps it shall amount to very little, but a copper is better than an empty hand. I do not believe I would be a bad choice, and a better replacement can always be found, in time.¡±
He turned to Barristan now. ¡°Ser, I understand your misgivings. Rest assured, this is merely a temporary measure. Bad steel may be necessary until one finds the silver for a better blade. Perhaps you do not believe me, but I have good intentions. If you doubt me, have a guard assigned to monitor my movements. Unsullied, perhaps?¡±
¡°In Westeros, it is custom for a man to prove himself before attaining high position.¡±
¡°In Westeros, is it not also custom for a man to be innocent until they are given a trial and charges against him are proven true? I am asking for a small fund, with which I may use to provide a great service. And what shall her grace lose from it, should I fail? A pouch of gold and a few minutes time. Hardly a king¡¯s ransom¡±
¡°If we were to hand a pouch of gold to any man, the treasury would be emptied by nightfall.¡±
Ethan turned to Dany now. ¡°Why, of course. But to never invest in an opportunity when it comes? I shall make no claims to being an honest man, but I have eyes, and I see that there is a lack of whisperers in Meereen. Evil men have mistaken your mercy for weakness, your grace, and we both agree you must correct that, have we not?. If it is not me, then who? The unsullied know nothing of whisperers, and neither does our good Ser. Surely you will not have him be your first whisperer? There is such a thing as being too honest. Our good Ser speaks no word that is not the truth or his thoughts. And the men of the pyramids? Why, all they shall whisper of is your downfall.¡±
He bowed. ¡°I mean only to pay what I owe, both to my conscience and my fellow man. Please allow me this chance, your grace. I vow to gods and men you shall not regret your decision.¡±
¡°Owe?¡± Her curious voice held the tiniest hint of suspicion. ¡°Have you met my people before, Master Ming?¡±
¡°Yes.¡± He said feeling some fire return to him. ¡°I see them every day.¡±
His voice grew quiet. ¡°In the galleys. The prisons. The mines and the fields. Starving, sobbing, alone and oppressed by man and beast alike. I would know. I have been to countless places, countless lands, and I was once one of them.¡±
His hands balled into fists as memories flew by. Names and faces. Hands joined, singing. The screams that filled the air as black batons came crashing down. And in the midst of it all, thousands of hands reaching out to the skies, crying out for freedom.
His voice rose now, soft, but it filled the entire room. ¡°Are we not all people? Be us from Yi Ti, the Free cities, Westeros or beyond? Do we not all have human hands and human feet, human souls and human dreams? What crime have they committed, to have a fate like they did? Slaving away to satisfy the cruelty of others? I will not help them because they have done something for me, my queen. I help because slavery is not a fate that should be forced on any man, and so it is my duty to see them freed. Just as you freed them from slavery, I also wish to free them from the constant fear of death. I believe you understand me, my queen.¡±
He started walking closer, closer. Barristan¡¯s hands returned to his sword, but didn¡¯t approach. ¡°You.¡± Ethan repeated, so close his nose was almost touching hers. ¡°More so than anyone else in this world.¡±
He could see her eyes glow now, burning with some of the fire he had just lit. ¡°Not just your duty. Mine too. You shall have all the help I can give.¡±
Ethan bowed. And the fish bites, he thought. ¡°I thank you, your grace. Do I have permission to begin working?¡±
¡°You do.¡±
He nodded, and then spun around. He had walked a few steps before she called out suddenly. ¡°Wait!¡±
He turned back. ¡°Some men speak of tales that drove them to do great things, Master Ming. Is there one that you have?¡± She asked.
He thought for some time. ¡°There were many.¡± He said at last. ¡°But I believe there is one tale you would very much like. Joan of Arc was only a peasant girl when her country was torn apart by war. Invaders came to pillage her home, and her countrymen cried for surrender. She would not have any of it. It was said that from girlhood, she had heard the voices of gods.¡±
¡°A peasant?¡± Daenarys sounded half amazed and half amused.
¡°Where most men would fear death she charged, and with her she carried the banner that armies would follow. A commander who led from the front, winning wars with courage where even the best generals would have failed. She was pious, humble, and above all a true leader of men. Not a strong woman, if you were to ask a muscled brute. Yet every man could see the pure and unbroken strength of her soul, from which battle was won. It was said that no man could have been more brave, more courageous.¡±
He smiled at her. ¡°I would have said the same for all women I have known, until now.¡±
Chapter 2: To Do Good
The wheel spins as men live and die, leaving behind ashes that become history. Kings, armies, civilizations and empires, all left in the dust of the distant past that shall soon become legend. The wheel spins tales, and the wheel spins lives, glory and misery alike lost in the stories of untold millions.
For some, the wheel is alive, an adventure to be told, a quest to be completed. For some others, it is dead. A tale told a thousand times. For most, it is the headsman that comes in the night. The cold that comes in winter. It is the burning of fires as armies march to war. A thousand faces, a thousand names, and yet the story is ever the same. One lord, one king, who declares wars that the innocent must fight.
Amidst these endless wars, one stands above all others. Unchanging, eternal as the night sky. Its call for arms goes unheard as the lord crushes justice and calls it revolt. It¡¯s dead rot unburied as corpses pile in the winter. And it¡¯s instigators reign free, unopposed, an iron boot ever stamped on the human face, forever.
Ethan Ming saw it now, in the dark corners of Meereen no queen will ever see. Children were dying.
In times of peace, men hailed king Robert and queen Cersei. Emperor Caesar and Tzar Alexander. But these were times of trouble, and the poor only recognized king gold and queen bread. Ethan didn¡¯t suppose he could blame them. The Breaker of Chains was an inspiration, a rallying cry, a living saint to be venerated and worshiped in a palace of gold far from them. And as with all holy and worthwhile things, she was above the petty concerns of real men.
Hungry eyes blinked as he walked by. Feet tensed in the thin layer of sludge that the slums were so famous for. Faces stared sightlessly at him. Starving faces. The slaves had been fed, before. But that was when slavery was legal, and lives were worth a sum of gold. Now it was not, and lives were worth no more than the sludge they stood in.
Was it possible to be freed into slavery? It seemed moronic, a trick of words. But as Ethan saw the slums, he was no longer so sure. They were free from cruel masters, maybe. But just as much a slave to food as any other.
He felt his hands ball into fists as he thought of it. To think that people still lived like this, after being freed. Countless images leaped to mind. Rich men, noble men, all dancing in the pyramids with their fine wines and whores, laying their purses with gold while these children pinched coppers.
The children flinched away. Reacting to anger, no doubt. Some began slinking away, eyes on the sludged grounds. Ethan did not take long to calm down. He held up a silver coin. ¡°Do any of you speak the common tongue?¡± He asked, lowering his voice. Softer, clearer. The same voice he would¡¯ve taken with toddlers, if he ever had to speak with any.
A few paused. Mystified stares looked back at him. Some eyed the silver greedily. But between the glowing silver and the glowering unsullied, none dared step forwards. Ethan sighed. His coin returned to his pockets. Charity did more harm than good, he knew. In good times, silver was something gangs would be jealous for. In bad times, it was something they¡¯d kill you for.
¡°Quite a life they have here, would you believe it? Behold freedom in all its glory.¡± Laughing took some effort.
The unsullied nodded. ¡°No whip. No work. They do¡ well.¡± His pleasure seemed genuine.
¡°No jobs either, as I¡¯m sure you can tell. Now, what is it that they shall eat? Freedom tastes good, I¡¯m sure, but it doesn¡¯t keep hunger away.¡±
¡°They not die.¡±
¡°Not yet.¡± Ethan frowned. ¡°But if this goes on they probably will.¡±
The unsullied shrugged. ¡°Many mouth. Little food. Too many. Not enough.¡±
He smiled a pained smile. ¡°I know.¡± And he meant it. He had come here with a basket of bread. The bread was now gone, and the basket too. With it, a good part of his conscience. He wanted to give out the silver. Then he saw three men killed for a copper, and decided against it. Probably for the better.
¡°Give them the offer, just like the others.¡±
¡°They children.¡±
¡°They children are hard to notice. Perfect for the job.¡± He saw the unsullied frown, but he nodded.
Ethan watched as their eyes lit up. One of them went forwards, asking something.
¡°They ask how much.¡±
¡°Copper for information that helps save a man, silver for information that does. Extra, depending on who they got and what they contributed. I¡¯ll be the judge of it, and I¡¯ll be generous. For information related to the harpies, triple those. If they ever catch a harpy, I¡¯ll make sure they¡¯ll never have to worry about food again for the rest of their life. And of course, if they do work for me, safety is guaranteed.¡± The unsullied said as much.
Eager nods from the children. Ethan smiled. ¡°That¡¯s all. Give them my best wishes.¡±
They were not idle for long. As they left, he caught the glint of something shining in their eyes. Something that looked suspiciously like hope.
¡°Will not be cheap.¡± The unsullied said.
¡°Pocket change for the mother of dragons. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be more than willing to pay. But ideally, it¡¯ll be the harpies paying for us.¡±
The unsullied tilted his head at him. Ethan found his smile met with a frown.
¡°Harpy pay for own head?¡± The stare was flat.
¡°Why, yes, of course.¡±
¡°You mad.¡± The unsullied decided.
Ethan smiled. ¡°About that¡¡±
***
¡°Yeifan Ming, of the distant far east beyond Yi Ti.¡±
¡°Zolors Dhazak, of Meereen.¡± The man spoke with an accented common.
Ethan waved a hand, and he saw the unsullied bow stiffly, silver tray in hand. It was still hard to get used to his look. With a black spike and clear, marked armor, unsullied stuck out in a crowd like a sore thumb. Here, in the robes of a Yi Ti eunuch, Stone looked like a completely different person. Had his skin color been a shade lighter, he may have passed for a proper eunuch himself.
He lifted the soft silks, and took out a small, blue goblet. ¡°Might I offer you some tea, good master?¡±
The man smiled. ¡°You are kind.¡± He took up a goblet himself, studying it. ¡°Fine wares you bring.¡±
¡°The best in Yi Ti.¡± Ethan said, waving his hands. ¡°The best that can be brought, anyways. Fine china, by the artisans of the emperor. For him, they give only the very best. The rest are open to any man with some luck and some more gold.¡± Ethan smiled. ¡°Consider this a gift.¡±
¡°A fine present.¡±
A fine trick, actually. Ethan had snatched it off a hawker selling obviously counterfeit goods, and haggled until the man was near tears. But by the looks of things Lord Dhazak had no experience with such trickery, and Ethan had managed to win himself a smile with it. So he didn¡¯t suppose he had any cause for complaining.
¡°So.¡± He said, taking a sip. ¡°What brings a man of the far east to humble Meereen?¡±
¡°Wares and trade, of course. Though I must confess I lost the former and have little for the latter. Shipwrecks happen constantly, I¡¯m sure you know.¡±
¡°Of course.¡± He said, eyes shifting now. ¡°I am sorry.¡± His tone became just a shade more unpleasant.
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¡°But business must go on, of course. The stock traders of Yi Ti understand that. I am wrecked, and penniless, it may appear. But I am still something of a wealthy man.¡±
¡°Oh?¡± The master¡¯s eyes lit up slightly.
¡°In my home we have developed a system of sorts. It is known as a stock market. Men modest and rich pool their gold into voyages, and each claim a share if it returns and a loss if it sinks. Then there is the insurance. A price we pay to not lose it all. For a modest cut of the profits, they make a deal. We shall be given recompense, should the ship sink. My fleet has sunk, but my wealth shall remain. I need only a pen to write a letter.¡±
The master¡¯s tone changed again. Ethan saw his eyes light up with greed. ¡°The wisdom of your countrymen humble us. We of Meereen do not think of such things.¡±
Ethan gave a pleasant nod. ¡°You are too generous. Much is said in Yi Ti about the wisdom of the masters in Meereen. Good, honorable men with excellent wares.¡± He had some practice, but the honorable part was challenging. ¡°Why, your olives are a delicacy nobles smile for.¡±
His smile widened as he saw the master lean back. His expression became guarded. A sly man, sensing an opportunity. He knew that look. The look of a fish taking the bait.
¡°I know many traders, and with proof of my identity I can arrange a ship back to Yi Ti, where I may reclaim my losses. Yi Ti is a rich land, even the nearest port will have your ships return with several times the wealth you invested. Should I have shares purchased of this second fleet, why, the profits would be even greater for the both of us. I need only two things.¡±
¡°Oh?¡± The master asked, casually. Too casually. ¡°Please do tell?¡±
¡°First, gold. It would be quite the embarrassment, of course, if I were to return to my home empty handed. But what if I were to return and say, my ship may be wrecked, but behold, I have gold and cargo still. Men will have greater confidence in me, and such reputation is as precious as any silk. I am sure you understand.¡±
¡°Yes.¡± The master said, licking his lips. ¡°Of course. Her radiance taxes us hard, but some change may be found. Several thousand golds, certainly.¡±
¡°Second, a supply of certain¡ goods. You must understand the pride of my countrymen. There are certain goods that one cannot buy. Goods only a master can provide. Do you grasp my meaning?¡±
He saw the master¡¯s eyes shift. ¡°I hope.¡± He said slowly. ¡°That this a trade that has not been outlawed? Dealing in it would bring attention better left away.¡±
Ethan laughed. ¡°Oh, no. I am only speaking of a certain good, do you follow? Nothing specific. A good, that is all.¡±
The master smiled. ¡°I do.¡±
¡°There are many men in Yi Ti. Strong, powerful. One may say¡ beyond the attentions of most law enforcers. They very much desire exotic goods.¡±
The master tapped at his cheek. ¡°Young and pretty, perhaps? I would use some connections I have in Yunkai. Although I fear¡¡±
He waved it off. ¡°Oh, please. Times change. Plans must be made. I am only speaking in possibilities, do you understand me?¡±
¡°Yes, of course. Possibilities.¡± The slaver agreed.
¡°So, regarding gold, and regarding the goods.¡±
¡°I am sure I can find many willing to fund your voyage.¡± He said. ¡°And goods shall be found, if our radiance may be convinced.¡±
Ethan frowned now. ¡°How long do you suppose it would take for her to be convinced?¡±
¡°Not very long.¡± The master said. He waved a hand, and a servant came, flinching. He showed him an envelope of sorts. ¡°Come, we may make it faster together. Meereenese too, deal in possibilities.¡±
Ethan smiled. All this time fishing, and the poor fish didn¡¯t even realize he was caught. ¡°I will look into it.¡±
***
¡°So, Stone. What have you learned?¡±
¡°You are liar. Very good liar.¡±
Ethan laughed. ¡°Have you ever heard of the word, efficiency, Stone?¡±
He stared at him with a stony gaze. Ethan shifted slightly, but didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°It means to do something well with less time, effort, and resources. Less work. Do you understand me?¡±
¡°Laziness.¡±
¡°Close.¡± He conceded. ¡°But it often leaves the job half done. Efficiency, you see, is more responsible. An unsullied, for example, would not stab a man in the hand three hundred times when one hit to the neck shall do. If you wish to kill a man, you will find the quickest way. That is efficiency. It means not wasting time, and not wasting energy. Do you understand?¡±
He saw Stone frown.
¡°Now, let¡¯s go over what we got from this. First off, I know how much funds the nobles and masters should have access to. The man here promised several thousand golds without much eye batting. He¡¯s rich, and obviously so. A fat plum that can stand a good amount of squeezing.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°Why what?¡±
¡°Why need this.¡±
¡°Why? Fines, of course. If we know how much they have we know how much the Breaker of Chains can take to break more chains. And by the sound of it we can take a whole lot more. We¡¯d also know other things. How much goods they can buy, how much swords, how much power. All important things a queen should be aware of, and I¡¯m getting it over a casual conversation.¡±
He could almost hear Stone¡¯s brain turning.
¡°Then, of course, we have the more important part. The information on the slaves. The masters are completely willing to deal with them again, if it were legal. They may even be willing to deal with them even if it isn¡¯t legal.¡±
Stone blinked. ¡°When say?¡±
¡°Implied, not said. Now, he mentioned he¡¯d need to convince her radiance to make it legal to hold slaves again. What do you imagine he means by that?¡±
¡°Words.¡±
¡°Are wind.¡± Ethan said. ¡°Do you really think she¡¯ll allow it?¡±
Stone set his jaw. ¡°No.¡±
¡°What else may they do then, if not sweet, reasonable words? Threats, perhaps?¡±
He saw realization dawn on his face. In moments, Ethan could feel fury emanating from the Unsullied. He caught his arm. ¡°No, no. Let¡¯s not kill him yet, shall we?¡± He said patiently. ¡°We can learn more from him. He hasn¡¯t told us who else might want to threaten the queen. If you kill him now, we¡¯ll never find out, won¡¯t we? If he can do it, seven knows how many more might.¡±
Stone thought of it some more. ¡°You right.¡± Grudgingly.
Ethan smiled. Some people said dumb people made bad team mates. They weren¡¯t wrong. But they sure were easier to lead around.
¡°Let¡¯s go, shall we? Can¡¯t miss a meeting with the queen.¡± He turned around and began walking.
¡°Why?¡±
¡°Because she¡¯s the queen, of course! It¡¯s bad manners being late, don¡¯t you know? Never mind not showing up.¡±
¡°Why do this?¡± Stone asked, more amazed than curious. ¡°Why you? Why help her?¡±
Ethan stopped. He turned to face him. ¡°This may sound strange, but I believe in doing the right thing. And when I see something completely, terribly wrong, I must try my best to make things right. Just look at the slums, the slaver¡¯s manor. Each was terrible for different reasons. I want to help the queen because she shares my goal of making things better. And most of all, I just want to be a good man. Do you understand?¡±
¡°Good men¡¡± Stone groped for words. ¡°Different from you.¡±
¡°I think I get what you mean. Probably. We have names for those people, back home. Straight shooters, goody two shoes. Idealists. Useless idiots.¡± He looked at his hands. ¡°Maybe there is a place where doing good feels good, in a whole different world. But this one isn¡¯t it.¡±
He sighed. ¡°Have you ever read stories, Stone? Children¡¯s stories? No? Can¡¯t read? Parents, then? They read you anything? Tell you anything?¡± Ethan found himself flinching at his sudden glare. ¡°You don¡¯t have parents.¡± He realized.
¡°I was born in Astapor.¡± An answer enough, by itself.
¡°I am sorry.¡±
¡°Why? They dead. Not you. Slavers.¡±
¡°For your loss.¡±
Stone held his stare for a moment before looking away. ¡°They die. Long ago. Don¡¯t remember¡¡± His voice turned into a croak, and then fell away. The silence stretched on.
¡°Well, then, let me tell you a bit about stories, Stone.¡± He said after some time. ¡°Stories¡ they¡¯re simple, beautiful things. We have ourselves a hero, and a villain, and all the pretty and ugly things heroes have to deal with. The hero isn¡¯t a perfect man, not always, but he¡¯s kind or honest or whatever else it is that people like to see in themselves. So he walks around, kills a few evil men, and in the end, when push comes to shove and it¡¯s all on the line. He pulls through. The good guys always win.¡±
¡°But then¡ that¡¯s not always true, is it? Real life is real life. Things happen, and people are people. Greedy, corrupt, angry, scared. They make bad decisions, and the world becomes a bad place. Slowly, then quicker and quicker until you¡¯re living in a nightmare come to life. Heroes don¡¯t always win, Stone. They rarely do. Sometimes it takes sacrifices to do good, Stone. Do you understand?¡±
The unsullied closed his eyes. ¡°No.¡±
¡°No?¡±
¡°You wrong. Good win. Always.¡±
¡°Really? And where was good winning, when you were a slave?¡±
¡°Queen. Freed us. Takes time. But good wins. Always. Always.¡± He repeated it like a prayer. When Stone opened his eyes again, they were shining.
Looking at the man¡¯s childlike wonder, Ethan couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°I suppose it does.¡±
He looked up at the clouds now, eyes looking at something far away. ¡°You¡¯ll have to trust me on this though. I would know. I¡¯ve seen it. Sometimes, just wanting to do good isn¡¯t enough.¡±
The unsullied didn¡¯t seem to hear.
Chapter 3: A Lesson in Justice
¡°I have returned with information, my queen.¡± Ethan said. His eyes scanned the room he¡¯d just found himself in.
Rich, as was to be expected of a queen¡¯s palace. But much of it seemed more for show than anything else. Fine furs covered every inch of ground, and the furniture was laden with gold. Silverware was polished to a gleam, yet a knock on some cups revealed that they were half rotten wood. A fitting analogy for Dany¡¯s rule, he supposed.
The queen herself was reclining on a couch, stuck halfway between lazy and regal. Her face was set in a perpetual frown, but the lazy chewing and puffed cheeks made it hard to take her seriously. So he waited instead. She tapped a plate absently, and a servant found her some wine. She downed it all in one gulp before realizing how she looked, and sat up straight.
¡°Yes?¡± Almost like a teenage girl speaking to a friend. Ethan made a note to fix that later.
¡°I believe I have found the sons of the harpy, your grace.¡±
Daenarys shot up from her couch. ¡°How?¡± She demanded.
¡°Luck, gold, and a good measure of trickery.¡± Ethan took a seat from across her. The silk fluttered as he sat. Rich and fine, more suited for cloth than some fabric. Extravegenence? Or poor taste? Ethan couldn¡¯t be too sure. He pulled out the envelope. ¡°An invitation to one of their meetings.¡±
Daenarys tore it open, staring at the parchment. She blinked, read it again, and then stared at him blankly. Her lips flattened into a line. ¡°Is this a jest, Master Ming?¡±
¡°I do not find it funny to make jests of murderers. We may laugh once they are dead.¡± His hands grasped the handle of a goblet. Too warm to be silver. Painted wood, then.
¡°This is a brothel.¡±
¡°Oh?¡±
¡°Are you quite sure this was not a gift of the master¡¯s, Master Ming?¡±
¡°I would not think so.¡± Ethan said. ¡°He had a mind to convince you that slaving is not such a crime after all, and wanted my help with the affair. He then gave me this.¡±
Her eyes narrowed. ¡°And how shall he convince me?¡±
¡°With matters they shall discuss at this place, I would imagine.¡±
¡°Treason.¡±
¡°He called it a possibility.¡± Ethan took a sip on the wine before setting the goblet down. His frown was a tad hard to hide. So strong it was hard to swallow and so iced it hurt his teeth. Expensive, no doubt. Although how anyone could enjoy such a drink he had no clue.
Daenerys took in a breath. ¡°He wants to put a collar back on my neck.¡±
¡°All of them, I would imagine. The slavers have much to gain from their trade opening again. An observant man might note that they are counting on it.¡±
Dany¡¯s lip trembled. ¡°I¡¯ve spared their lives. What more do they want?¡±
Ethan shrugged. ¡°Wealth, power, revenge. They are not happy, your grace, not that they were happy before. But I feel like I must leave you some advice.It is recommended that a ruler should have their men well treated or crushed utterly, for a man may avenge himself of lighter injuries. It is thus imperative that when punishment is inflicted, it is done to a degree that the ruler shall not fear retribution.¡±
Daenarys raised an eyebrow. ¡°Advice from Maegor the Cruel?¡±
¡°A famed counselor, his works would go on to influence countless kings.¡±
She did not even attempt to hide her frown. ¡°A heartless man.¡±
¡°Perhaps. Though it is difficult to find how his thinking is unsound. The slavers of Meereen will not sit idle, your grace. You have not taken their lives, but they have wealth and power still. Only you stand between them and even greater power. If you shall not make way for them, they will do everything in their power to see to your removal. Zolors Dhazak shall not be the first or the last.¡±
Daenarys stood up now. ¡°If they dare move against me, they shall have fire and blood. The dragon shall not be stolen from.¡±
¡°They have moved, and shall continue moving, your grace.¡±
¡°Some.¡±
¡°Most.¡± Ethan countered. ¡°It is in their direct interest to do so, your grace, and you have not made an example of those who tried.¡±
Daenarys stiffened. ¡°I have hung men for murder.¡±
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¡°Thugs paid for with slaver¡¯s coin. Killing them will only cure the symptoms, not the cause.¡±
¡°What will you suggest then? Kill them all?¡±
He paused long enough to let her know that he had considered it. ¡°Perhaps it would benefit your rule, although you seem to desire a more peaceful resolution.¡±
¡°They will obey me.¡± She said, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself. ¡°They may have some more gold, if that makes them happy.¡±
¡°Gold to avoid war. A benevolent decision.¡±
Daenerys smiled at the praise.
¡°In the Byzantine empire, the Emperor¡¯s trusted minister Chrysaphuis recommended something very similar. Gold was readily available, and wars were expensive. So when barbarians appeared he would pay them to leave. It worked, for a time.¡±
Her smile turned into a frown quickly.
¡°But the barbarians were not satisfied, and every year they demanded more. One year the emperor could bear their demands no more, and declared war. But he found to his sorrow that the barbarians had used his gold to create an army stronger than his own, and he was captured on the battlefield. For a fortune he was bargained free, but it beggared his realm. It was left to decades of humiliation, rape and pillage. Such is the price of appeasement. It was only many generations later that a new emperor took up the crown, and took the fight to the barbarians. No tribute was paid thereafter, and the pillaging no longer occurred.¡±
He could see her frustration bubble to the surface now. ¡°I am thinking.¡± She said. ¡°That I have little use for men who can only criticize my decisions.¡±
Ethan smiled. ¡°Why, of course. Such men are an annoyance, and of little use. It is suggestions that make advice worth hearing.¡±
¡°I am hearing none.¡±
¡°Allow me to provide one then.¡± Ethan stood up, and grabbed the queen¡¯s goblet. ¡°It seems to me that the dilemma is obvious. Your people are in poverty. The harpy thugs desire gold. The masters-¡± He picked up his own goblet, nearly full. ¡±They have gold. Plenty of it, in fact. Far more than they need.¡±
¡°The solution, then, seems equally obvious. We find the masters. We take their gold. And give it to those who need it.¡± As he spoke, he poured his own drink into the queen¡¯s cup. ¡°And behold! No money for the harpies. No starving men to take an uncharitable view towards your rule. Along with this, you shall find yourself with all the treasures of Meereen. What is there to complain about?¡± He slid the goblet over the table.
Dany¡¯s expression changed. ¡°You would have me rob the masters.¡±
¡°I will advise you, my queen, to expropriate their wealth. You have taken their slaves, have you not? Were they not also property of the masters? What is different here?¡±
¡°Slavery is a crime against the gods.¡±
¡°Why, and is profiting from it any different?¡± Ethan lowered his voice now. ¡°A man slays my father and takes his gold. Am I robbing him now, by taking back what belongs to me? Your father¡¯s throne was stolen by the usurper. Are you meant to bow to him when he approaches, and call him your grace?¡±
Dany bristled. ¡°Of course not!¡±
¡°And pray, how is this any different? Whom are your citizens? Are they not the poor, the oppressed, the formerly enslaved? Who was it that worked the fields of Meereen? That rowed the sails of the galleys? Who was it that had their children sold into slavery, their lives made a nightmare come to life? Who suffered lashes, rapes, chains?¡± His voice was barely a whisper. ¡°Was it not them?¡±
¡°Was it not them?¡± His voice rose suddenly, harshly, and Dany flinched back.
Ethan lowered his head. ¡°I apologize, your grace. I forgot myself.¡±
Dany stared at him for a moment before realizing she was in control. ¡°You are forgiven, Master Ming. But you will not raise your voice at your queen again.¡±
¡°Of course.¡±
There was a brief silence as Dany calmed down.
¡°Perhaps there is some truth to what you are saying.¡± Dany admitted. ¡°But the masters will not stand for this. They will lie, cheat.¡±
¡°They already have. No need to worry. I have whisperers, and a few methods in mind. Give me one month, and I will have an estimate of their wealth. We will leave them silver so they do not starve, but no more. The masters shall stand for this if they are sensible, and if they would rather not they can kneel instead. Fire and blood.¡± Ethan met her gaze. ¡°Fire and blood, to take back what is yours. What of your citizens, who are still suffering? Are you content to watch them starve?¡±
¡°Starve?¡± Dany¡¯s voice grew hoarse for a moment.
¡°Yes. Starve. They were fed by their masters, before they were freed. Who do you imagine feeds them now?¡±
¡°They are free to find work for themselves.¡±
¡°For whom? The masters have the land, the animals, the bread. Or did you offer your citizens a farm and a herd of sheep to raise?¡± He couldn¡¯t quite stop the jab from entering his voice.
¡°There are jobs in the city.¡±
¡°Aplenty for artisans, weavers, merchants and men of good education. All slaves in Slaver¡¯s Bay have come for you, seeking freedom. And what freedom have they found! Did you know that they have taken to kidnapping children? Eyeless beggars line your streets, my queen, and they get none of what kind men give. I could tell you more. The whisperers are already roaming about, and they bring me news every day. Perhaps one man in every four cannot find a job. Many starve.¡±
¡°No. They-¡±
¡°They are starving, your grace. And scared. Do you doubt the truth of what my whisperers have said? Come yourself. I encourage you- beg you, my grace. Come to the slums with a small escort. Pretend to be a civilian, and see for yourself how badly the situation has gone. The masters use all their power to hide the truth from you, but they cannot cover your eyes if you are determined to see.¡±
¡°Are you saying that I am a bad ruler, Master Ming?¡± Dany¡¯s voice rose.
¡°I am saying that the situation is far worse than the masters would like you to believe, and until you leave the walls of your palace you have no information you can trust.¡±
¡°I think that you are right.¡± She said, more coldly now. ¡°I cannot trust everything I hear.¡±
¡°Suppose that I am lying. You may have me executed for treason. Suppose I do not. Is it not necessary that you see the truth of things for yourself? I trust that you will be fair in your judgment, my queen.¡±
¡°I will think about it. Until then, you are dismissed, Master Ming.¡± Her voice hardened. ¡°Dismissed.¡±
Chapter 4: The Gilded Lure
¡°I¡¯m looking for Zalla.¡± He said, envelope in hand. He turned it to the side so they could see the green leaf seal.
The whores stared and chittered, eyes wide. If they understood what he meant, they gave no indication. One came forwards, arms wide, but Ethan weaved around her.
¡°No.¡± He said, hoping his tone would get across where his language couldn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯m here for business.¡±
His eyes swept around the room. It wasn¡¯t very high class, as far as establishments went. The floors were packed with grime, as was to be expected of any inn or tavern. Barmaids served drinks, some more served food, and most of the girls served other things. Looking at it, it wasn¡¯t hard to see why the sons of the harpy set up a base here.
Of all places, brothels were suspicious by nature, and just by being suspicious one could avoid suspicion. Who, after all, would be open about coming to such a place? Masks were common. Required, even. Here a man who attempted to appear honest would find himself appearing very dishonest indeed. And what if one was suspected under interrogation? Where have you gone, sneaking out so late at unholy hours? Why, inspector, I was at a brothel, they could answer. And a whore could testify to me being there.
An awkward conclusion to any line of questioning, if it was pushed that far, and it was quite the excuse to avoid any unwanted attention. Scandalous, maybe, but as long as the hands of the law were tied the sons of the harpy likely couldn¡¯t care less.
He felt a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, he found a woman that was dressed almost comically. Giant, golden feathers adorned her silken dress, woven across everywhere that showed her curves and nowhere that didn¡¯t. Heavy gold buttons kept the costume together, and the whore seemed a step too fast from undressing. She may as well have been. The transparent silk did very little in the way of hiding things. Anywhere else, it would¡¯ve drawn all the eyes in the room, and maybe disdain in equal parts. Here in a brothel it was one sight of many, unworthy of mention.
¡°An interesting place to visit, for one seeking business.¡± Her voice was smooth and rich. It would¡¯ve sounded like a noblewoman¡¯s voice, anywhere else. But not here.
He couldn¡¯t see her expression under the veil, but he thought he could see a smile. ¡°I thought the same, when my friend gave me this. But I¡¯m not too acquainted with how business is done around here, so I¡¯m not one to judge.¡± He slid the envelope over. ¡°I¡¯m hoping you can introduce me.¡±
She snatched the seal off the letter in a practiced manner, and bit down on it. Her eyes turned, and then lit up. She giggled. ¡°Of course.¡± And then she whisked him away.
Ethan found himself stumbling like a drunkard as she led him around, past the drunken brawlers and chittering whores. It seemed like some sort of peculiar dance, except one wrong step would lead to an unfortunate collision. No issue for his kidnapper, apparently. She wove around them all as if she¡¯d been here her whole life. She might¡¯ve been.
He found himself in a room soon enough. She shoved him onto the bed, and he could hear the scratching of parchment being lifted. He squinted. The room was dark. Wherever she kept the papers, he had no clue. There certainly wasn¡¯t a desk anywhere.
¡°I am Zalla.¡± She said, her tone toeing the line between formal and informal. ¡°Meetings will be coming through me, as are requests, plans, and reports for information. If anyone asks, you bent me over the bed and I squealed like a pig. Say otherwise and we¡¯ll find you.¡±
He frowned. ¡°That sounds ominous.¡±
She grinned. ¡°Oh, you have no idea.¡±
There was an uncomfortably long pause.
¡°So, unpleasantries out of the way, who are you looking to meet?¡±
¡°If I said I was looking to make some connections with important people, how much would you laugh?¡±
He saw her tilt her head. ¡°That would depend on what you have to offer.¡± Her green eyes met his, and he found himself scrambling for words.
¡°A pleasant exchange of greetings?¡± He tried.
She laughed. It would have been a pleasant sound, but it was more mocking than teasing. ¡°Did anyone ever tell you that you are a very funny man?¡±
¡°Not a lot, thank you.¡±
Her smile faded as quickly as it came. ¡°I hope you understand, good master, that this is not a game.¡±
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
¡°Of course not.¡±
She went on as if he hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°Those of us here, we are here for a purpose. Get the mother of whores off her golden chair and put a prettier arse on it.
¡°Of course, I-¡±
¡°You do not!¡± She snarled, eyes blazing. ¡°You weren¡¯t here, when she took everything from us. From me!¡±
Ah, how beautiful the human mind was. When you were so used to doing whatever you liked with impunity, mere privilege seemed like oppression. He had walked past beggar girls on his way here, and they didn¡¯t even have whore¡¯s clothes to keep them warm. He wondered what she would think of them.
But of course, he was here for business, so he¡¯d have to be polite. He bowed. ¡°I am sorry.¡±
She took a few breaths, and soon her face was warm and teasing again. ¡°So, what is it that brought you here? Have you any¡ contributions for us?¡±
¡°In terms of gold and murder, I must confess I have very little. Although in influence, perhaps not so much. You see, I have somewhat impressed the queen with some of my stories, and she is keen to listen to more of them.¡±
¡°Oh? And what shall you do for us? Make her upset, perhaps?¡±
¡°Why, a storyteller can tell all sorts of tales, and in doing so suggest all sorts of schemes. Take the tale, for instance, of the sailors of Agrabah. The city was poor and struck by poverty, the only wealth flowing in from ships by the sea. So the wise queen made a plan to enrich her people, building more ships and having the poor take to the galleys. In just a few years her kingdom was rich and prosperous, and known for sailors all over the world. See, almost a perfect example of what Meereen could look like.¡±
¡°A fanciful tale.¡± She drawled, tapping her long nails on the table. Click. Click. Click.
¡°Indeed. Now, suppose this storyteller had a friend. A man who owned many ships, or otherwise could build some. And the man agreed to the training of sailors instead of the shipping of cargo. For a price, of course. These sailors, poor and uneducated, sail from Meereen to Yi Ti, learning their work in the galleys all the time. And once they reach the ports of rich merchants and great captains they are now worth a good amount as galley workers. The Meerenese captain can thus schedule a change of employment for these sailors, so long as the merchants of Yi Ti can provide gold.¡±
The clicking stopped. ¡°An exchange of gold for their services.¡± Her eyes spun. ¡°Permanently?¡±
¡°Oh, of course not. Merely as long as they would like to stay. Why, if it were permanent, it would be slavery! And you know just how much the queen hates slavery.¡±
A wide grin was spreading over her face now. ¡°Of course. But how shall the, shall we say, productive details of this arrangement be hidden?¡±
¡°Oh, quite easily. A guard force can be hired. For the pirates, of course. They must be well armed, well trained, and certainly not unsullied. What use are spear eunuchs in ocean battles? You will require archers, slingers, and all manner of trained combatants that can only be found amongst the nobles that once were the sons of the harpy.¡±
¡°Perhaps. But she will have to trust them first. It seems to me that our agents are held in low esteem. Her shininess is just as likely to trust a wolf.¡±
¡°Oh, really?¡± Ethan¡¯s voice changed. He cleared his throat, and stared down. ¡°Please, your grace.¡± He intonted, voice full of faux wisdom. ¡°These poor men. All they want is gold.. Pay them well, treat them fairly, and soon they shall love you as much as your freed slaves now do. Why mistrust them? It seems to me they are perfectly honest men!¡±
¡°Honest as killers can be.¡± Zalla snorted.
They shared a laugh.
¡°And if that is not enough, perhaps we can arrange for some sellswords. Or free men, with their families taken hostage. It would not be difficult to find men willing to keep secrets.¡±
¡°These men¡¯s families shall be suspicious.¡± She said, but he could see her eyes were shining now. He had her hooked.
He shrugged. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s quite simple. Have them write letters, send money. A few pretty coppers in exchange for the silvers they¡¯re making us. Have them boast of how good life is, and maybe even save for a voyage. I¡¯m sure they¡¯d be happy to have their families join them in their success and prosperity.¡±
¡°Oh.¡± She gushed. ¡°The profits that could come from this. Yes, yes. Who would you-¡±
¡°Whoever is interested. Or, I suppose, their representatives. Although I must caution against using untrustworthy men. If they send any man, I must assume I may trust them with the details and the profits.¡±
She blinked, and her grin only grew wider. ¡°Why, I¡¯ll schedule a meeting. Good Master¡ ah, pardon, I¡¯ve never even asked your name.¡±
¡°Ethan Ming, of the distant lands beyond Yi Ti.¡±
¡°Your trade?¡±
¡°Many. Although for them, only a few parts matter. My talent lies in seducing the foolish with empty promises.¡±
She smiled. ¡°Why, you are scaring me, good master. The girls in our establishment all say the same.¡±
He gave an easy chuckle. ¡°Why, we are so very similar. Even so, to the masses men of my trade go by a different name. They call us politicians. If you ever find yourself in need of employment, feel free to seek me out. You will fit right into the trade.¡±
¡°Me? Oh, please, no. I¡¯m not nearly charming enough.¡± She leaned forwards to give him a rather charming peck on the cheek.
¡°Pardon my lack of manners, but if you ever find yourself in need of employment, our pleasure house will be honored to have you. There will never be a lack of willing girls.¡±
¡°You want me to be a pimp for you?¡±
¡°Why, no! Such impolite terms. No, a recruiter. I confess to being one myself.¡±
¡°Me? Oh please, no. I¡¯m not nearly manipulative enough.¡± He smiled back.
Chapter 5: Haven of Light
A cool breeze drifted past the broken streets as Ethan stared outwards. Wagons rushed about, rich men, merchants, and fools alike pushed around amid the sea of chaos that was the city¡¯s alleys. Dust mixed with sweat, with animal droppings, and with filth, making some sort of unholy trail that followed wherever feet touched.
At the sides, hopeless eyes stared on.
The beggars were everywhere. Some clung to corners, hands holding tight to their empty bowls. Others dug on into broken skin, torn scabs. Their skin was thin, draped over their barren flesh like a film over a corpse. Some looked less like living people, and more like corpses returned to life. Others, even worse. Ethan found himself shivering as he looked into their eyes. They were ghost¡¯s eyes. Eyes of people who had died long ago.
And there were so, so many of them. As far as the eye could see the slums were the very picture of poverty. Ethan closed his eyes. He could almost see the masters, lurking still in the back of his mind. Feasting, dancing. Enjoying all the fine wines and grand silks while here the beggars languished and starved.
The pounding of feet made him open his eyes again. ¡°Three.¡±
Ethan looked over the newcomers. Two boys, and a girl. He¡¯d seen others like them before. Walking skeletons with heads far too big and eyes far too small. Looking at them, Ethan felt a strange numbness. How many others? No small amount, certainly. Seeing them all seemed to have starved the compassion out of him. He saw different faces before. A name, a story, an identity and a bright soul. Now he saw only one face, ragged and miserable. The same wet eyed, weary face that seemed to cover every corner of Meereen.
¡°That¡¯s a hundred and six now. There-¡± He couldn¡¯t quite bring himself to say there was no room.
¡°Away?¡± Stone asked.
¡°No.¡± Ethan snapped without thinking.
¡°Where, then?¡±
He chewed his lip and sighed. ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll have to go inside to find out.¡±
As the doors creaked open, the noise of the streets faded behind him, until all he could hear was the sloshing of water, the tapping of feet, and the slow, ragged breaths of starving children.
Absent eyes glanced up and then down as Ethan walked past, Stone following close behind with his bucket and the little girl.
More eyes peeked out as he walked. Children, teens, mothers holding babies¨C there were too many, far too many. Rooms meant for one were crowded to the corners, holding six and seven where three would¡¯ve been far too much for comfort. The halls were lined too, and as they walked tiny bodies scurried off like a crowd seeing a chariot.
Ethan had brought the orphanage expecting twenty, but more came as they heard the news. He was almost tempted to keep a few out, preserving quality, but looking at their faces his words died on his lips, and he¡¯d accepted them. Food was out. Blankets were in short supply. Water, even more so, and attendants as well.
A woman came forwards as they approached, taking the little girl from Stone¡¯s arms. She grabbed the bucket right after, and motioned for the boys to follow. As the doors opened, Ethan was suddenly struck by the stench of sweat and grime. Then the doors slammed shut, and the children disappeared. More sloshing of water, and then that too faded away.
Making his way down the hall, Ethan slipped into his own study. A table, a chair, and scattered papers sticking out of drawers greeted him. His hands dug around, sifting page after page until finally he found what he was looking for.
Plan: Orphanage
A smile crept up his lips. He tried to laugh, but it came out hollow.
- Attendants (x3); ideally mothers
The list went on and on. Writing implements. Bandages. Toys. Some bedding. Food. Even an expenses sheet attached. He¡¯d planned for more than expected, as any good planner should. He even congratulated himself on his cleverness. What a joke it turned out to be. He put brackets around it all, and then x10. After some thinking, he crossed it out again, this time with x40.
¡°How many are in each room now? Six?¡±
¡°Seven.¡± Stone answered.
Too many already. ¡°Any more and it¡¯s a fire hazard, health issues aside. That won¡¯t work. The halls?¡±
¡°You saw.¡±
¡°The privy?¡±
¡°Full also. Others, same. Kitchen. Middle. Fire.¡±
Ethan could only stare. ¡°Please. You¡¯ve been around this place a good few times, you have to had seen someplace somewhere.¡±
¡°I have. You filled them. All.¡±
¡°Is there-¡±
¡°No.¡±
Ethan frowned. ¡°Well. I suppose I shall have to think on it then. Fetch some more food, will you? Blankets too. We can¡¯t have them freezing or starving here.¡± He tossed him the pouch. It was far lighter now, and the golds were replaced by silvers by the end of yesterday. Now, a good half was coppers.
¡°Money for spies. Not children.¡± Stone grumbled.
¡°The spies are children. And I have a good half of them here.¡±
¡°Others not. This charity.¡±
¡°Charity I can afford. So, will you do it, or should I?¡±
¡°Queen said spies.¡± Stone¡¯s voice hardened.
¡°I heard her. If you have a problem, I can do it, and when she comes asking I can explain. Either way, the money is getting spent.¡±
¡°Spies whispering. Will owe them.¡±
¡°I have enough saved, Stone. Now make yourself useful and spend my money for me, will you?¡±
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¡°Queen will hear.¡± Stone said, his face darkening. But he turned around nonetheless.
Ethan¡¯s shoulders slumped as soon as the door slammed shut.
¡°My god.¡± He croaked. He stared at the papers. A police station. Military reforms. Schemes. Plots. What to say to Dany when he was in favor, out of favor. How to win over her advisors. Plans that could be shown in English, the ones better hidden in Chinese. And in the midst of it all, three big, bolded goals.
End Slavery
End Poverty
Conquer Essos
Looking at it now, it seemed almost like a joke. One man with a stack of papers, trying to go against something that¡¯s been in place for a thousand years. Ethan buried his face in his hands.
¡°Fuck.¡±
In the darkness of the room, the only light came from a single candle. Ever dim, every flickering. Ethan stared at it, watching it flare and fade. ¡°Why?¡± He whispered.
¡°Why here, of all places? Why me?¡± The flames danced on, paying him no attention.
¡°You¡¯re there, someone, aren¡¯t you? This wasn¡¯t a coincidence. It can¡¯t be. You sent me here.¡± His voice rose. ¡°You took me from my home. Why!¡± His voice rose suddenly, and Ethan found his hands balling into fists.
¡°You think I didn¡¯t have a life? Friends, family? Who do you fucking think you are?¡± He growled.
The flame grew dimmer. Ethan sighed. Just as quickly as it came the rage was gone. He stared back down at his papers. He never wanted to burn it all more than that moment. Never wanted to just be done. Run a nation? Why, he couldn¡¯t even run an orphanage! But he couldn¡¯t just give up, could he? He could never live with himself if he did.
He thought he would feel good, doing good things. He did, for a time. Then he saw all the problems happening and it just seemed like some fruitless gesture. A beggar¡¯s pittance. A drop in the bucket, the ocean, even. One hundred children. And how many others were out there?
A soft rap at the door shook him out of his thoughts. Ethan forced himself to take a breath. ¡°Back already? That was quick.¡± He left his seat. ¡°I thought you would take an hour at least, but-¡±
Ethan froze. As the door opened, he saw a little boy. He was small, just washed, and probably just fed too. His eyes were wide, confused. Like some deep sleeper that¡¯d just been shaken awake in some strange place. Like¡ him. Ethan had some mirth to his smile this time.
¡°Why, hello there. Who are you?¡± Two puzzled eyes stared up at him. The child said something. Something he didn¡¯t understand. ¡°Don¡¯t speak common? Well¡ that¡¯s fine¡¡± Ethan¡¯s eyes darted around.
¡°Here.¡± He handed the boy a piece of paper. ¡°Look.¡± He said, drawing a few lines. ¡°Cloud.¡± He pointed at the drawing.
The boy looked at the drawing. ¡°Cloud.¡± Ethan repeated, more gently this time.
¡°Clowd.¡± Close enough, he supposed.
He added a few lines beneath it, and another circle. Then a smiley face. ¡°Sheep.¡± He said.
¡°Shep.¡±
¡°Very good.¡± He cooed. ¡°Now you try.¡± He handed him the pen.
The boy¡¯s eyes lit up. He grabbed the pen, and started drawing. A few lines for a cloud, and then, a few more for legs. Ethan felt his smile becoming happier. ¡°You know.¡± He said suddenly. ¡°I think you may be the closest thing to a friend I¡¯ll ever have here, in this place.¡±
¡°I give you stuff. I teach you stuff. And we¡¯re both happy. But I try doing something, saying something. You won¡¯t understand, will you? And if what I know is anything to go by, nobody ever will.¡± The boy¡¯s brow furrowed as he started curving his pen. His words seemed to have bounced off.
¡°I¡¯m from a place called the United Kingdom. Life is good, slavery is illegal, and little gremlins like you learn to draw in school.¡± He tapped the boy¡¯s cheek and got a shy smile in response.
¡°You know, in a lot of ways, I think you¡¯re better than everyone else. I¡¯ll try to teach them, of course. But they won¡¯t learn. Liberty, freedom, science, common damn sense. They won¡¯t understand a thing. But you, little guy, you¡¯re salvageable. If I teach you there¡¯s some chance you may actually learn something. Maybe we can start with- Oh.¡±
The boy held up the paper. Ink was spotted all over, but Ethan could make out the vague shape of a cloud, and small lines that seemed to be rays of sunlight. Over the clouds, different beams emerged, each a different shade.
¡°Is that a rainbow?¡±
The boy blinked at him uncertainly.
A wide smile spread over Ethan¡¯s face. ¡°Wow, that¡¯s amazing. You did a great job.¡± He tousled the boy¡¯s hair.
At times, in the brightest moments of childhood, children had a wonderful, unique smile. A smile that understood the world in all its beautiful simplicity, and all the pretty and mysterious things adults have long looked past. Ethan saw it now, blossoming over the boy¡¯s face like the lush plant life during summer. Glowing, almost, with all the bright joy and hope of a young mind discovering something new.
¡°You know, I can see you becoming a great artist one day. Ah, shame they don¡¯t have crayons here. Maybe I can make you some?¡± Now that was going to be a challenge, but for a moment, Ethan didn¡¯t really care. ¡°Maybe¡¡±
The boy leaped forwards suddenly, and Ethan found himself wrapped in a hug. A warm, thankful, innocent hug. For a moment, he was stiff. Then he returned it, holding the boy as fiercely as he could without crushing the bones that showed through his skin. He never seemed smaller than in that moment. Through the boy¡¯s ribcage, Ethan could feel a small heart pulsing, still clinging to life. Bright and hopeful.
¡°Thank you.¡± He croaked. ¡°I needed that.¡±
A bright smile was his only response.
Another knock at the door interrupted the moment. Ethan collected himself. ¡°Yes?¡±
Stone¡¯s hulking body emerged. Under all those baskets and blankets, he seemed more like a wagon than a man. Or a camel, maybe. Although he was probably stronger than one, Ethan guessed.
¡°So, you¡¯re back. How much was that?¡±
¡°Not enough.¡±
Ethan grimaced. ¡°Well, I suppose that¡¯s expected. Let¡¯s prioritize the smallest and weakest children first, in that case. The rest will have to take turns until I get my hands on more gold.¡±
¡°Rooms. Space. Sleep.¡± Stone reminded him.
¡°Right¡ well.¡± His eyes found the little boy again, back to drawing. Inside of those big,bright eyes, it was as if the rest of the world didn''t exist. Ethan found himself smiling again.
¡°How many blankets do you have?¡±
¡°Fifty.¡±
¡°Well, tell you what? Give me one.¡±
¡°Can¡¯t. Children need.¡±
¡°Well, I think I¡¯ll need it more. I¡¯ll be sleeping outside.¡±
This might be the first time he saw Stone shocked. His eyes widened, and he blinked. Ethan continued, paying him no attention. ¡°This boy and whatever friends he has can have my study. There¡¯s enough room, or at least I¡¯d hope. Make sure they don¡¯t steal anything, will you?¡±
¡°Outside cold.¡±
¡°Why, of course. But it¡¯s me or them, and I¡¯m not going to have them freeze.¡± Ethan turned around before he could change his mind.
The night sky was cold and unwelcoming. Nothing greeted him except the indifferent gaze of the moon, and the shrill, shrieking sound of the wind.
¡°Well, back to the basics, I suppose.¡± He gave the stars an unhappy smile. ¡°Do you miss me, old friends?¡±
They were the first thing he had seen, coming into this world. He took some time, picked up some information, and then jumped into the sea to swim ashore as a man who''s just recently been shipwrecked. A kind person had taken him in, as kind people often do, and offered a warm change of clothes plus some bread. A day later his petition to greet the queen as a storyteller was granted, and he emerged again from the palace a rich man.
And now he was a poor man again. Sleeping on the streets like some hobo with no family. The tricks life played. Ethan laughed as he curled up. He slept there, amid the chilling wind, thinking about how warm and cozy his old house was.
Ethan awoke the next morning with hands and feet so cool they felt numb. But yet, somehow, he seemed warmer. Getting up, he found the papers.
Smiling children. Hearts. And all sorts of drawings, all with a cloud in the middle. Ethan saw a blizzard, a thunderstorm. A goat and a sheep. And along with the sloppy images a few scraps of cloth were piled over him. Ripped parts of blankets, Ethan realized.
Grasping them, Ethan suddenly felt like the richest man in the world.