DAENERYS
"Madness!" Ser Jorah Mormont's outrage rang like a great bell inside the manse. Xaro Xhoan Daxos watched them with a close, calculating expression on his face, his jeweled nose glittering in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Dany had kept her eyes on the
maegi as she spoke of magic and monsters from the uttermost north of the world. She was not the best liar in the world but her life had acquainted her with lies very well, and the
maegi's eyes never shifted, her tone never wavered in the ways liars would. If this
was a lie, it was buried so deeply that the teller believed the tale.
Like Viserys, the thought bubbled up. Her brother believed many things, some of which she still hoped were true. Ser Jorah's summation could have been correct; the woman was clearly a
maegi of some kind, with her floating balls and flying ship, but she could also be quite mad.
The
maegi regarded the exile knight with a curious expression. "I'm not going to say that I haven't heard that one before," she noted. "However, it
is the first time I've heard that from a Northman. Generally your people were a lot more, shall we say,
accepting of the idea than others."
"The Others are
dead," Ser Jorah snapped. "If they ever existed in the first place."
"Not dead; trapped. There is a difference. But whatever it is that keeps them locked down is broken and they're wandering free, in penny packets at least. The longer this goes on the more get out and soon enough the whole planet is going to be neck-deep in ice demons and their zombie minions. I mean, just so we're clear here," the
maegi said sternly. "This is the situation that is developing. I'm here hoping that I can find
something useful against them, because right now all I have—all Westeros has—is brute force and ignorance and that is
not going to cut it."
Ser Jorah turned to face Dany, anger writ plain on his face. He spoke in the bastard Valyrian of the Free Cities instead of the speech of Westeros. "My Queen, the woman speaks of myth and legend in terms of dire threat. This is a trick of some kind, a way to worm her way into Your Grace's confidence. She cannot be trusted."
"You know," the
maegi commented in the same liquid syllables, "if you really wanted to keep the conversation private you could've just waited until I was gone." Dany's ears pricked at the way she spoke; it was almost as if she was reading from a book, despite the casual nature of the words.
Mormont's eyes went wide. "You understood me?"
The
maegi rolled her green eyes and wiggled her fingers in the knight's direction. "
Maaaaaaagic," she taunted. Jorah flushed, hand going to the pommel of his sword.
"Ser Jorah, enough!" Dany commanded. The knight pulled his hand away but continued to glare death at the unrepentant
maegi. "Captain Hasegawa," she stumbled a little over the strange name "please do not antagonize my Queensguard."
"Yeah, no, that's on me. My apologies, been kind of a stressful year." The
maegi waved a negligent hand in the knight's direction, which seemed to be as much as she was willing to give.
Dany nodded, her dragons bobbing their heads along with her. "You claim to be searching for knowledge to use in your fight against the Others of legend," she said. "But I'm confused; why did you come to me?" Hers was the blood of the dragon, but the Valyrians had only rarely come to Westeros before the Conquest.
"Well," the
maegi rubbed the back of her head in a suspiciously sheepish manner. "I got some helpfully unhelpful advice from a friendly priestess that brought me to Qarth, and then once I got here I got some
more helpfully unhelpful advice from a woman in a red mask—" Dany's eyes went wide.
Quaithe. The Asshai'i woman had met her outside the city, and apparently still meddled. "—and that brought me, eventually, here. In all honesty," the green-eyed woman admitted, "I didn't think much would come of this, but I figured that humoring some of these overfed motherfuckers might give me an in. It sort of worked with Robert at least."
"Is that what you were doing in the Usurper's court?" She was curious. The
maegi seemed to care very little about such things, so why would she even bother with the Iron Throne?
"Pretty much, yeah. Show up once in a while and act all foreign and exotic, then I'd be free to run around doing what I needed to. He never even tried to cop a feel, too; shows that he was smarter than he looked." The speech was odd, but the intent behind the words glowed bright as day. "But, it got me an apprentice… or a couple of apprentices maybe? Not relevant. It got me where I needed to go."
"And are you humoring me now?"
"I was humoring
him more than anything," the green-eyed woman jabbed a thumb at the still-watching Xaro. "But yes, I was. A little. I've been humoring a lot of people the last little while, kinda gotten into the habit of it." The
maegi settled back in her chair and regarded Dany with a stonelike expression on her face. "So."
"So?"
"Where do we go from here?"
That was a very good question. Her realm was bleeding and under threat from more than just angry dogs, and Daenerys Targaryen was still in Qarth without ship or swords to bring order. "I do not know," Dany admitted. "The comet led us both to Qarth, but for what reason? I had hoped to find my army, so that I may sail to Westeros and reclaim my throne, but it seems that will not be. You hoped to fight legends; will you find what you seek?"
"I don't even
know what I'm looking for," the
maegi grumbled. "A street and a hand, but what
that means I have no idea."
Dany shrugged, her dragons squawking a little at the disturbance. "It would seem as though we're both lost then," she said, and the
maegi chuckled at that. "Would you aid me?" she asked suddenly.
"What?"
"Would you aid me?" The impulse was foolish, dangerous perhaps. The
maegi seemed unassuming enough compared to the ornamentation of Pyat Pree and Quaithe, but she had thought the Lhazareen godswife to be little threat and that cost her both a son and a
khal. "I have no army, no swords to fight in my name nor ships to carry them across the sea to Westeros. My dragons will not be old enough for war for years to come. But my realm needs to be united if it will survive. Humor me in this, Captain Hasegawa, and in return I shall grant you unlimited access to what you need to keep my people alive. All the swords of the Seven Kingdoms, the libraries of King's Landing and Oldtown, whatever scraps of wisdom and power might remain throughout Westeros you shall have if you aid me."
The
maegi's eyes were wide and flicked from her, to her Queensguard and back again. "That's a very, very big thing to promise, Lady Targaryen," she said.
Dany spread her hands. "I have little else
but promises," she replied.
I am crowned, but still a beggar. She hated the feeling, but the fact was plain. Without swords and men to back her, all she had were her bloodriders and her dragons and neither were enough. The
maegi though, her magics and her ship would turn the tide of war in her favor. Dany was certain of that. "But I will promise to listen to your counsel and to give you whatever you need to defeat this enemy you speak of. As queen, I can do no less."
"I," the
maegi said, then stopped, her very green eyes boring into Dany's purple. For a moment it felt like time itself had stopped, then the
maegi sagged and all Dany could see was an ordinary woman in peculiar clothing, tired and worn. "God, if I'd met you three months ago I might've actually jumped," she murmured to herself, then looked up at Dany. "I wish I could just say
yes and get on with it, I really do," she said with a wan smile. "But I've spent the last couple of months running around Westeros like a lunatic talking and cajoling and debating and yelling at people so they'll actually fucking
listen to me and… we have something approaching an agreement. Not between all parties, not anything terribly solid, more like a fragile web holding the Seven Kingdoms together based almost
entirely on my neutrality.
"The civil war's been pretty mild so far, not much in the way of actual fighting, just people parked on various castles yelling nasty things at each other. The longer I can keep it that way, the better but if I pick somebody to because-I-said-so onto the throne, if I pick a
side… that web will snap and the whole continent will dissolve into chaos. And then the Others' chances of winning increase, because every dead woman, man and child in Westeros from now until we put an end to it becomes
theirs."
The cold feeling of despair started to settle into Dany's belly again. "You will not help me, then?" Viserion crooned on her right shoulder and she reached up to stroke him. The little pale dragon leaned into her touch, his scales rubbing up against the golden bracelet her sun-and-stars had given her in Vaes Dothrak, what seemed like an eternity ago.
"Not in this, not directly." The
maegi's voice sounded genuinely sympathetic. "Though if we're both here for a reason maybe we can help… each other?" The woman trailed off as she looked at Dany's bracelet, as if seeing it for the first time that day. "Interesting bit of jewelry you've got there," she said in a carefully neutral voice.
Dany continued to pet Viserion, cocking her head in puzzlement. "It was a gift from my lord husband,
Khal Drogo," she said. "I believe it to be Valyrian."
"
That's Valyrian!?" the
maegi blurted. "Holy shit!" The neutrality in the woman's voice had vanished, replaced with a queer excitement. "May I?" Dany pulled her hand away from the dragon and held it out; the
maegi leaned in, one of her little demons floating beside her casting blue light on her arm. "Oh now that's interesting," she mumbled. "Can't tell if this was part of a larger device or if it was made to order. Cold-forged, maybe? Or somehow the circuitry was capable of resisting casting or hot forging? I'd say that's impossible but anybody
could do that it'd be them…" She paused, glancing at the inscription. "Oh.
Oh."
Oh? What about her bracelet would cause a
maegi to say
oh like she'd been slapped in the face? "Captain?" Dany ventured.
"Do you know what this says?"
Dany shook her head. "The glyphs are ancient Valyrian, I think, but the language only resembles Valyrian a little. Perhaps it was crafted by the dragonlords of old."
"Oh,
I know who made it," the green-eyed woman muttered. Her gaze shifted from the bracelet (Dany lowering her arm gratefully) to Drogon sitting in her lap. The black dragon returned the look. "Aren't you cute," she said. Drogon hissed at her. "What do they eat, exactly?"
"Meat, of course. Though it must be charred by fire before they will touch it."
The
maegi hummed without tune for a moment, then plucked a skewered date from the table before Dany. Holding it up, she whistled sharply and one of her silver demons cast blue light across the date until it smoked, shriveled and blackened. That done, the
maegi held out the burnt fruit and offered it to Drogon. The little dragon sniffed suspiciously, then snapped the date up as eagerly as it would a gobbet of meat.
Dany blinked, then glared down at her Drogon. "It would have been nice to know that earlier," she said, annoyed. Drogon finished swallowing and gave her a defiant look.
"
Son of a bitch!" The
maegi shouted, leaping from her chair and pointing at the black dragon. Dany yelped and pushed back, startled, her dragons screeching at the sudden movement. Xaro Xhoan Daxos near fell over in his chair, the close look on his face replaced with shock. Ser Jorah and Jhogo both went for their weapons but did not draw. "Of course! It makes
sense now! Holy shit that's part of the puzzle and I
missed it!"
Xaro was the first to recover his wits as he steadied himself. "Great lady," he said, "I fear that I do not understand what you mean…" he trailed off.
The
maegi's hands clawed at the air, grasping for something Dany couldn't see. "Something just came to me," she said. "Look at it like this: I'm a Builder. I just called up what I can't put down but it's contained. Sealed away nice and tight but that's not going to last forever. A lock, a door, a wall… they're all static structures. Unchanging, but vulnerable. Entropy
always takes its cut: one year, ten, a million years can pass before it does but it doesn't matter because it
always wins in the end. The locks will start to fail, containment will degrade and something will escape.
"So I need a security system, a warning bell and something that can pick off strays," the woman ramble. "I can build machines to do that, but even the best machine has the same problem as the prison itself: it's fragile over time, entropy will gnaw on them the same way and they're dependent on repairs I can't be sure I'll be around to make. Technology is
useful but I can't
rely on it past a certain threshold. Long-term solutions for the prison can't be simple machines. It has to be locally aentropic, something self-maintaining and self-renewing over
geological periods of time if necessary. Something
biological!"
Xaro's eyes were full of confusion, as the
maegi paced to and fro before Dany as if in a daze. She was sure that the Qartheen merchant's eyes were mirrors of her own. "What?" Xaro croaked.
"The weirwoods are the first component of the system," the
maegi said, half to herself and half to the others in the room. The manner reminded her of Viserys in an unpleasant way. "The trees are the monitor, the warning bell and the command and control part of the equation. They're intelligent and sensitive enough that if the prison starts to crack they'll know what's going down and why. But they're a passive system—they're
trees after all, they can't move against a threat in any real sense. There needs to be an
active system in the loop. The singers probably fulfilled that need for basic maintenance and observation, help keep the trees safe from non-Unbidden threats like humans. Maybe there's machines involved too but if you use the same logic that turns the weirwoods and the singers into part of the defensive line then for the offensive line you need something purpose-built to kill things that don't like extreme heat and that is where
you come in, you magnificent little pieces of bioengineering!" She whirled and pointed at Dany's dragons, a savage grin splitting her face. Rhaegal cocked his head and looked curiously at the woman's outstretched finger. "Your metabolism is perfectly tuned to keep you alive in deep cold without any need for insulation. When you're grown your flame is hot enough to turn anything you want into charcoal; hell, you might be preferential carnivores but when you get down to it I'll bet anything you want that you're an obligate
carbovore. You're willing to eat
anything as long as it's been burned down to carbon first.
"You're
perfect for what I need. You can roost, breed and hunt literally anywhere on the planet. If anything gets loose, or there's a second incursion, the trees will see it, point you at it and you can just burn it all down and eat the ashes for cleanup." The
maegi smiled. "With the right tweaks your line will breed true for a million years or more, and even when Darwin starts messing with you eventually you might be smart enough to deal with the problem on your own. It's
deviously brilliant." She seemed to run out of fire at this statement, returning to her seat. "Oh man, the picture is starting to clear up again."
A rough voice cleared his throat from Dany's side. "Forgive me, captain," Ser Jorah said roughly. "But are you suggesting that dragons have something to do with the Others?"
The
maegi looked up at him. "Well, if they
don't have something to do with them it's a
hell of a coincidence," she replied, still smiling. "And I don't believe in coincidences when it comes to the Builders anymore."
"But there are no dragons in the North," Ser Jorah said, and the smile slipped from the woman in green's face.
"Aaaaand just like that the picture gets foggy again," she mumbled. "I know there's none
now, but back in the old days? Really? No dragons in the North at all?"
Mormont grew stubborn. "None of the tales I learned in my youth spoke of the Builder and dragons," he stated firmly. "Dragons were unknown in Westeros at all until the Targaryens came."
"Builder
s, not Builder," the
maegi said absently. "The plural's important. Not at all the same guys… though maybe that's not entirely true?" Her voice softened and she looked at something no one else could see. "I mean, maybe they called him
zhdane too? Make a note to ask George at some point." She blinked and quivered like a large, wet dog shaking itself free of water and going on in a much firmer tone. "Okay, might be interesting to follow up on that but
not relevant at the moment. Unbidden are moving, live dragons, background count spiking, none of that's a coincidence. More information, we need more information." She turned and regarded Xaro, who watched the
maegi warily while trying to remain languid and disinterested as he could. "Daxos-san, as one of the local rich people I'm guessing you know the city well?"
Xaro puffed himself up a fraction. "I am a merchant prince and member of the Thirteen, mighty sorceress," he said with pride. "I know the Queen of Cities better than a lover knows his love's body."
"And I'm sure your mother is proud," the
maegi said dryly. "I was told to find a street without windows, does that sound familiar to you?"
Xaro's great jeweled beak of a nose dipped as the man frowned. "Great one, it is familiar to me," he said. "But I urge you, do not go there."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"It is the abode of warlocks, clever one. The House of the Undying they call it; a palace of dust and failure is more like it. The warlocks of Qarth
were as mighty as you, noble captain of the skies, but now they are faded and withered, hiding their faces from the sun and trying to lure the unwary into their nets. Already one of their number, a creature named Pyat Pree, has tried to steal away the
Khaleesi from her people."
"Pyat Pree extended an invitation to the House of the Undying," Dany admitted at the
maegi's questioning look. "I have not replied."
"You see? These dust-ridden fools seek to sink their hooks into the young queen," Xaro cried, tears flowing from his eyes and staining his fine robes. "I beg you, light of my love, great and powerful sorceress, do not go to the House of the Undying. They have naught to give you and will avail you naught." He rose and left the room, weeping as he went.
"Well," the
maegi said quietly. "That was… less than useful." She eyed Dany and her loyal guards. "The House of the Undying, eh?"
Dany eyed the green woman and her silver demons back. "You will not aid me in seeking the Iron Throne?" There was still a little hope in there, the queer light in the
maegi's eyes had yet to dim.
But the woman shook her head. "Like I said, not directly, not now. We might be able to help each other as this thing goes but I won't intervene directly. I can't unless the whole thing falls apart."
"And if it does?"
"Well…" the
maegi gave Dany another probing look. "We'll burn that bridge when we get there. For now, maybe we can work together on saving the world, then sort out the throne? You said you had an invitation to the house of scary warlocks. Mind having me as your plus one?"
Dany nodded. She was unsure, but perhaps she could persuade this strange jabbering woman when no other king in Westeros could. "Ser Jorah," she said. "Come the morrow, you must go to Pyat Pree. Tell him that I and the Witch of Ulthos desire an audience."
ELSEWHERE
The probe was not intelligent—not in any way the people of Planetos would understand at any rate. It was driven by simple rules and lines of code, a stripped-down copy of the virtual intelligence system that commanded its parent ship
Carefree Victory. The probe's VI was remarkably clever in some ways, but it could not
think the same way an organic brain could, or even like the digital general intelligences created by advanced sophonts everywhere else in the galaxy.
It was designed to seek for its target and learn everything it could about that target, transmitting that information back before returning, running out of power or otherwise ending the mission. That was its purpose, and it would doggedly continue to pursue that mission until completion or destruction.
The probe had been launched—after some hasty modifications by Captain Hasegawa—to examine the unusual celestial body currently in the FSC-29294 system: a comet whose coma was a brilliant and very uncometlike red. A quick systems check indicated that the unit had sufficient fuel for a close approach and possibly taking up an orbital position within the next few days. While the comet would soon be behind the sun compared to the position of Planetos, subspace communications ensured that no data would be lost or need to be stored at any point during the encounter.
Already the data received on passive sensors had proved to be enlightening: the jury-rigged asynchronous field sensors showed incredibly strong psi output coming from an object buried deep within the comet's crust, and that it was this flow that had turned the comet's coma from the white of ice to scarlet. Unfortunately for Captain Hasegawa, the raw outpouring of psi energy effectively blocked the longer-range passive systems from determining any more than that; more information would have to wait until the object was within range of the high-resolution active scanners. The probe continued to scan dutifully, recording the subtle shifts of color within the coma as it danced from almost orange to deep into the infrared, marking bands and interference patterns along with changes in the psi fields and packaging it all for review by the ship's commander.
Carefree Victory's VI saw all of this as it came in and stored it in the long-term memory for future reference. The VI was an order of magnitude more intelligent than the probe, though still nowhere near sophont, and was capable of simple routing and redirection as needed. The psi field readings and the crude "heatmap" scans were flagged for sophont review—by Captain Hasegawa or the new Level-3 user tagged Alleras—at the first available opportunity. Copies of the raw data were compressed and prepared for transmission onward as per Starfleet protocol; the subspace link established with the Starship
Kongou and its escorts was still very thin, barely adequate for limited text-based communication let alone the bandwidth needed to undertake a raw data dump. But the ship was not capable of resignation. It would continue to follow orders so long as the necessary components were functional.
The probe drifted closer to its goal, slowly readying for the encounter. The ship continued to watch and record. The comet flew on as it had for thousands of years, ignoring what followed in its wake.
