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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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Magister
Illyrio
had
warned
Dany
about
this
too
.
"
A
Dothraki
wedding
without
at
least
three
deaths
is
deemed
a
dull
affair
,
"
he
had
said
.
Her
wedding
must
have
been
especially
blessed
;
before
the
day
was
over
,
a
dozen
men
had
died
.
As
the
hours
passed
,
the
terror
grew
in
Dany
,
until
it
was
all
she
could
do
not
to
scream
.
She
was
afraid
of
the
Dothraki
,
whose
ways
seemed
alien
and
monstrous
,
as
if
they
were
beasts
in
human
skins
and
not
true
men
at
all
.
She
was
afraid
of
her
brother
,
of
what
he
might
do
if
she
failed
him
.
Most
of
all
,
she
was
afraid
of
what
would
happen
tonight
under
the
stars
,
when
her
brother
gave
her
up
to
the
hulking
giant
who
sat
drinking
beside
her
with
a
face
as
still
and
cruel
as
a
bronze
mask
.
I
am
the
blood
of
the
dragon
,
she
told
herself
again
.
When
at
last
the
sun
was
low
in
the
sky
,
Khal
Drogo
clapped
his
hands
together
,
and
the
drums
and
the
shouting
and
feasting
came
to
a
sudden
halt
.
Drogo
stood
and
pulled
Dany
to
her
feet
beside
him
.
It
was
time
for
her
bride
gifts
.
And
after
the
gifts
,
she
knew
,
after
the
sun
had
gone
down
,
it
would
be
time
for
the
first
ride
and
the
consummation
of
her
marriage
.
Dany
tried
to
put
the
thought
aside
,
but
it
would
not
leave
her
.
She
hugged
herself
to
try
to
keep
from
shaking
.
Her
brother
Viserys
gifted
her
with
three
handmaids
.
Dany
knew
they
had
cost
him
nothing
;
Illyrio
no
doubt
had
provided
the
girls
.
Irri
and
Jhiqui
were
copper-skinned
Dothraki
with
black
hair
and
almond-shaped
eyes
,
Doreah
a
fair-haired
,
blue-eyed
Lysene
girl
.
"
These
are
no
common
servants
,
sweet
sister
,
"
her
brother
told
her
as
they
were
brought
forward
one
by
one
.
"
Illyrio
and
I
selected
them
personally
for
you
.
Irri
will
teach
you
riding
,
Jhiqui
the
Dothraki
tongue
,
and
Doreah
will
instruct
you
in
the
womanly
arts
of
love
.
"
He
smiled
thinly
.
"
She
's
very
good
,
Illyrio
and
I
can
both
swear
to
that
.
"
Ser
Jorah
Mormont
apologized
for
his
gift
.
"
It
is
a
small
thing
,
my
princess
,
but
all
a
poor
exile
could
afford
,
"
he
said
as
he
laid
a
small
stack
of
old
books
before
her
.
They
were
histories
and
songs
of
the
Seven
Kingdoms
,
she
saw
,
written
in
the
Common
Tongue
.
She
thanked
him
with
all
her
heart
.
Magister
Illyrio
murmured
a
command
,
and
four
burly
slaves
hurried
forward
,
bearing
between
them
a
great
cedar
chest
bound
in
bronze
.
When
she
opened
it
,
she
found
piles
of
the
finest
velvets
and
damasks
the
Free
Cities
could
produce
...
and
resting
on
top
,
nestled
in
the
soft
cloth
,
three
huge
eggs
.
Dany
gasped
.
They
were
the
most
beautiful
things
she
had
ever
seen
,
each
different
than
the
others
,
patterned
in
such
rich
colors
that
at
first
she
thought
they
were
crusted
with
jewels
,
and
so
large
it
took
both
of
her
hands
to
hold
one
.
She
lifted
it
delicately
,
expecting
that
it
would
be
made
of
some
fine
porcelain
or
delicate
enamel
,
or
even
blown
glass
,
but
it
was
much
heavier
than
that
,
as
if
it
were
all
of
solid
stone
.
The
surface
of
the
shell
was
covered
with
tiny
scales
,
and
as
she
turned
the
egg
between
her
fingers
,
they
shimmered
like
polished
metal
in
the
light
of
the
setting
sun
.
One
egg
was
a
deep
green
,
with
burnished
bronze
flecks
that
came
and
went
depending
on
how
Dany
turned
it
.
Another
was
pale
cream
streaked
with
gold
.
The
last
was
black
,
as
black
as
a
midnight
sea
,
yet
alive
with
scarlet
ripples
and
swirls
.
"
What
are
they
?
"
she
asked
,
her
voice
hushed
and
full
of
wonder
.
"
Dragon
's
eggs
,
from
the
Shadow
Lands
beyond
Asshai
,
"
said
Magister
Illyrio
.
"
The
eons
have
turned
them
to
stone
,
yet
still
they
burn
bright
with
beauty
.
"
