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"
Have
you
come
from
the
Summer
Isles
?
"
"
This
is
so
,
Your
Grace
,
but
before
,
not
half
a
year
past
,
we
called
at
Oldtown
.
From
there
I
bring
you
a
wondrous
gift
.
"
"
A
gift
?
"
"
A
gift
of
news
.
Dragonmother
,
Stormborn
,
I
tell
you
true
,
Robert
Baratheon
is
dead
.
"
Outside
her
walls
,
dusk
was
settling
over
Qarth
,
but
a
sun
had
risen
in
Dany
’
s
heart
.
"
Dead
?
"
she
repeated
.
In
her
lap
,
black
Drogon
hissed
,
and
pale
smoke
rose
before
her
face
like
a
veil
.
"
You
are
certain
?
The
Usurper
is
dead
?
"
"
So
it
is
said
in
Oldtown
,
and
Dorne
,
and
Lys
,
and
all
the
other
ports
where
we
have
called
.
"
He
sent
me
poisoned
wine
,
yet
I
live
and
he
is
gone
.
"
What
was
the
manner
of
his
death
?
"
On
her
shoulder
,
pale
Viserion
flapped
wings
the
color
of
cream
,
stirring
the
air
.
"
Torn
by
a
monstrous
boar
whilst
hunting
in
his
kingswood
,
or
so
I
heard
in
Oldtown
.
Others
say
his
queen
betrayed
him
,
or
his
brother
,
or
Lord
Stark
who
was
his
Hand
.
Yet
all
the
tales
agree
in
this
:
King
Robert
is
dead
and
in
his
grave
.
"
Dany
had
never
looked
upon
the
Usurper
’
s
face
,
yet
seldom
a
day
had
passed
when
she
had
not
thought
of
him
.
His
great
shadow
had
lain
across
her
since
the
hour
of
her
birth
,
when
she
came
forth
amidst
blood
and
storm
into
a
world
where
she
no
longer
had
a
place
.
And
now
this
ebony
stranger
had
lifted
that
shadow
.
"
The
boy
sits
the
Iron
Throne
now
,
"
Ser
Jorah
said
.
