Chapter 39: Qarth
"Daenerys, do you truly understand what the Old Gods and skinchangers are?" Quaithe countered.
Daenerys glanced at Jorah. "The Old Gods are... trees with faces carved into them?"
"That's a heart tree. The Old Gods refer collectively to a pantheon of ancient deities," Jorah explained slowly.
"The Old Gods represent a belief in animism—the idea that all things have spirits. As their followers, skinchangers awaken to the natural spirits and can merge with sentient animals," Quaithe explained to Daenerys. "I learned this from an old skinchanger seeking wisdom. He came from beyond the Wall on the Sunset Lands."
"A wildling?" Jorah exclaimed. "How could they have traveled thousands of miles to Asshai?"
"The people you call wildlings are sentient beings. They too desire wisdom and civilization. But beyond the Wall, he felt only despair because of how deeply your kind despises skinchangers.
"So, he sought refuge in the sanctuaries of mystics, in Asshai by the Shadow," Quaithe said slowly, her lacquered wooden mask fixed on Daenerys.
"Daenerys, Westeros under the Andals will not tolerate you or your dragons," a whisper-like voice drifted into her ears, faint and intimate. The others showed no reaction.
A voice transmission spell?
Daenerys was startled.
For the next few days, she felt uneasy and avoided being alone with Quaithe. She questioned Jorah and Pyat Pree about it. They confirmed that neither warlocks nor mages could cast "materialized" attacks, like fireballs or ice spikes. Their magic only harmed indirectly, through incantations, shadows, or blood.
Still, she feared Quaithe might secretly cast some "shadow-binding spell" on her. She began having her handmaidens take turns staying with her at night.
It seemed she had overthought things. After that night, Quaithe didn't initiate any further conversations with her or seek chances to be alone.
Finally, when they left the Red Waste and entered the lands of Qarth, Daenerys couldn't hold back and asked the shadowbinder, "Honored sorcerer, do you know the incantations of ancient Valyrian magic?"
"Do you wish to learn?" Quaithe, though not initiating conversations with her, never outright refused her questions.
"Ah, the world is treacherous. I don't want to be hurt by wicked sorcerers again," Daenerys sighed mournfully.
"I don't know Valyrian incantations—they're of no use to me. But if you are willing, you can go to Asshai. Someone there might teach you," Quaithe replied quietly. "There are rumors from the Shadow Lands that descendants of the ancient Valyrian blood mages are still active somewhere."
"It's too far. I need to go to Westeros to claim my throne as queen," Daenerys shook her head.
The next afternoon, Daenerys saw Qarth—the city that merchant Xaro Xhoan Daxos had described as a paradise.
"Dong—"
A crisp clang of a bronze gong rang out from the sandstone walls, the same red hue as the Red Waste.
"Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, has arrived!" someone shouted toward the city, their voice carrying far enough for Daenerys to hear even from half a mile away at the gates.
Before she could ask Xaro what was happening, a deep, resonant horn sounded, "Woooooo"
Looking up, she saw a circle of towering, gleaming-skinned black men standing atop the 10-meter-high city walls. Their upper bodies, bare and shining like polished bronze, emerged from the battlements. Around their muscular torsos coiled strange, trumpet-like horns resembling giant serpents.
"Da-da-da-da."
A procession of camel riders galloped out of the city in perfect order. The camels were draped in vibrantly colored blankets, their humps adorned with luxurious saddles encrusted with rubies and garnets that sparkled under the sun.
The riders atop the camels were equally well-equipped, clad in uniform copper-scaled armor and wearing long-nosed helmets adorned with bronze fangs and black feathers. Dany couldn't discern what animal these helmets were meant to mimic.
It seemed the entire spectacle had been orchestrated especially to welcome Dany. The city gate facing the red wasteland was devoid of any unrelated passersby. Two columns of camel riders stretched in an orderly line from the gate, extending nearly 200 meters beyond the city.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" The riders raised their gleaming bronze spears in unison, shouting in a coordinated chorus.
The spear tips were decorated with colorful ribbons that fluttered like mist as they were raised and lowered.
The Qarthians refrained from shouting polite phrases like, "Welcome, Mother of Dragons, to Qarth." Instead, they expressed their enthusiasm through action, offering the warmest of welcomes.
Dany rode her camel alongside Xaro at the forefront of the procession, with Jorah, her bloodriders, the warlocks, and the Qartheen nobles following close behind.
As they neared the city walls, Dany noticed the red stone walls were intricately carved with depictions of various animals: serpents slithering, hawks soaring, fish gliding, wolves howling at the moon from hills, and even zebras and elephants.
When Dany reached the gates, the massive bronze-inlaid wooden doors, which had been shut moments before, creaked open again.
Qarth was protected by three concentric walls. Passing through the outer gate, a group of children rushed forward, their arms laden with flower baskets. They ran alongside Dany's camel, giggling as they showered her with colorful petals. Dany responded with her sweetest smile, though she inwardly marveled at the peculiar customs of Qarth.
The children wore nothing but golden sandals on their feet, though their bare skin was painted with vibrant designs that covered them entirely.
The middle wall, standing 12 meters high and built from gray granite, bore a different kind of carving—vivid depictions of war. Soldiers clashed with swords and spears, arrows rained down in battle, heroes fought valiantly, infants were slaughtered, and funeral pyres blazed in fierce flames.
The iron-bound wooden gate of the middle wall swung wide open, and a torrent of noise—cheers and shouts—flooded in, rushing towards Dany like a dam bursting. It was the sound of countless voices celebrating, screaming in unison.
Between the middle and inner walls stretched a long street, lined with buildings of vibrant hues. There were dreamy rose-colored stone towers, violet-painted spires, and bronze arches embedded with emeralds.
The balconies of these structures were crowded with Qarthians watching the procession. The women wore flowing tokar dresses that revealed one breast, while the men favored silken skirts adorned with beads.
The pale-skinned Qarthians either scattered red rose petals from above, waved colorful silk scarves, or shouted loudly in Dany's direction.
"Dong-dong-dong!" Bells tolled from the city's high towers, and a peculiar smile crept onto Dany's face.
At this moment, the scene called for "Requiem of the Undead." She was like Arthas, basking in the cheers of her people while making her way to the palace to slay her father.
The inner wall stood 15 meters tall, constructed of black marble and adorned with carvings of amorous scenes—commonly referred to as spring palace images.
These carvings offered a glimpse into some of Qarth's customs.
As Dany approached, the massive gate of the inner city, encrusted with countless golden eyes, opened slowly, resembling the mouth of a giant beast.
Unlike the grand welcome outside, there were no special ceremonies here. The only reactions came from passersby on the street, who stopped to curiously observe Dany and her entourage.
Dany saw the miraculous towers of this world—tall spires clustered densely like a forest. Every square they passed featured an exquisite fountain shaped like an animal.
In the noonday sun, small rainbows arched delicately over the fountains, creating a breathtaking sight.
The merchant Pyat Pree boasted proudly to Dany:
"Qarth is the greatest city of all time, the heart of the world, the gateway connecting north and south, the bridge linking east and west. Its history stretches beyond human memory, surpassing all cities in beauty, making them pale in comparison."
What grandiose claims. I don't believe for a second that you'd have dared say such things when ancient Valyria still stood, Dany thought to herself.
"Yes, among the nine Free Cities, aside from Volantis, I've visited nearly all. Not one of them can hold a candle to this jewel of the strait," Dany replied cheerfully, offering polite flattery.
She couldn't help but notice the statues lining the colonnaded streets. Ancient heroes of Qarth stood majestically atop white marble pedestals, as though waiting for the day the Dothraki would arrive to plunder them and display them on the Godsway in Vaes Dothrak alongside thousands of other stolen idols.
As they passed through the colonnade, the caravan stopped at a market square—a crossroads where several streets converged. It was time for Dany to decide which path to take and whose hospitality to accept.
The market was housed within a vast, multi-arched building, its latticework ceiling home to thousands of brightly colored birds.
Above the shops, lush greenery and flowers grew on platforms, while inside, the stalls displayed an abundance of goods—wondrous creations from all corners of the world.
"Oh, Daenerys, my radiant beauty," exclaimed the merchant extravagantly. "Whatever catches your eye, speak but a word, and I shall have it delivered to you immediately."
"All of Qarth belongs to her; she has no need for trifles," retorted the blue-lipped Pyat Pree from the other side. "Listen to me, Khaleesi. Come with me to the House of the Undying, where you shall drink from the cup of truth and wisdom."
"Ha! What can your House of Dust offer her?" Xaro scoffed at the warlock. "The Thirteen will present her with a crown forged from black jade and fire opals."
Dany smiled graciously but firmly declined the warlock's invitation.
"Lord Pyat, you know my lineage and can sense the desires in my heart. Yet, as beautiful as any garden may be, it is not a place to linger. I will not hide my longing—I yearn day and night to return to the Red Keep in King's Landing, which is my rightful palace."
Just try anything, and one day I'll bring 100,000 Dothraki screamers to sack this city, she vowed inwardly. Outwardly, however, she maintained the façade of someone without ambitions or threats to Qarth.
Pyat's blue lips curled into what appeared to be a polite smile, though inwardly, he mocked Dany's naïveté for believing the words of shameless merchants.
Wait and see; you'll come to me willingly someday.
"Khaleesi, your wisdom surpasses your years. Please accept my gift, and we shall speak again another day." He handed her a jar of ointment and nodded. "On your journey to Qarth, you showed an interest in the mysteries of the unseen. This sacred oil will allow you to glimpse the spirits of the air."
After Dany accepted the gift, Pyat mounted his camel and departed in another direction.
"My queen, you have made the wisest choice," Xaro said softly as he watched the warlock leave. "There's an old saying in Qarth: A warlock's house is built of bones and lies."
They're all cut from the same cloth—why should a crow laugh at a pig for being black?
(End of Chapter)
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