Illyrio

The thought of that slender, exquisite figure stirred Illyrio in spite of himself. Almost at once, another image joined it. A man.

Because of that man, Illyrio did not dare show his intentions too openly. He admired Daenerys, but he would not invite serious trouble for the sake of a woman.

And that man was trouble. Great trouble. Illyrio's intelligence network could not match the Sealord's, but with help from his spiders, investigating a sellsword captain should have been simple.

The man might only be the commander of a mercenary company, yet that company had dared to prey upon the Dothraki.

For the first time, Illyrio felt he truly understood what the words mercenary company could mean.

Worse, they had not merely raided Dothraki camps. They had successfully broken those raiders who had long plagued the Free Cities. Their strength could not be ignored.

Illyrio had no intention of provoking such a ruthless man for now. At least, not before the Dothraki made their own move. Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Come in."

The person who entered said nothing. He simply placed a palm-sized strip of parchment before Illyrio.

Illyrio accepted it by habit. The messenger left as quietly as he had entered, as if no one had come at all. Illyrio's brows drew together as he read. The contents were alarming.

"How can this be?"

For a man as easy and self-satisfied as Illyrio to tense at once, the information on that parchment was no small matter.

Illyrio had risen above many magisters of Pentos for two reasons. The first was his own ability, backed by wealth great enough to rival princes.

The second was his cleverness in finding a way to deal with the Dothraki. Few men could claim friendship with a powerful khal. Fewer still could turn that friendship into political advantage.

Illyrio had spent enormous sums to win that favor. He had even built a magnificent palace to display his sincerity toward the khal.

To the khal, such a palace was not truly important. Even so, no man refused flattering treatment forever.

For Illyrio, the benefit was very different. Friendship with a khal brought safety to his city and influence among men who feared the horse lords.

Many magisters could not buy such peace at any price.

On one side stood the madness of raiders and the ruin they left behind. On the other stood safety purchased with a portion of one's wealth. Anyone with sense knew which choice to make.

More importantly, Illyrio could use that relationship to trade with the Dothraki. The Dothraki lived on horseback. They did not produce much, and many of the people and goods they plundered became useful resources for exchange.

In that way, Illyrio had not lost money at all. He had become richer. Now the steady shape of that relationship had begun to shift.

Because of his spiders, Illyrio had smelled danger before the storm properly broke. Khal Drogo, the khal of khals in all but name, was trying to conquer every Dothraki.

According to the message, this conquest spared no cost. Any khalasar that refused submission would become meat beneath Drogo's arakhs.

In Illyrio's memory, Khal Drogo had never possessed ambitions this large. He did not doubt Drogo's ability. But conquering other khalasars, and doing it at such a price, felt strange.

Within that strangeness lay a grave danger. Once Khal Drogo became the true ruler of the Dothraki Sea, he would command the whole grassland. His next move needed no explanation.

Illyrio understood at once that this was a dangerous signal for every magister and prince of the Free Cities.

Yet they had no way to stop it. That was the bitterest part. They were not facing a civilized kingdom. They were facing a people who crossed the Dothraki Sea to raid, burn, and take whatever they desired.

The city men did not have the courage to interfere. Even if someone had the thought, no one would dare act on it. Who wanted to offend a powerful khal?

At worst, the Dothraki would lose the chance to rule all khalasars. The men who interfered would lose their lives.

That left Illyrio with very few directions to consider. Perhaps he could simply think differently.

If one could not resist, then one should submit first. The moment Illyrio considered it, the benefits became almost too obvious.

He could already see his wealth increasing again in the near future. Merchants valued profit. Conquerors valued profit too.

As long as Drogo was not a fool, he would understand that occupying a city was far less useful than demanding ready-made wealth from it.

Besides, Illyrio happened to need exactly such a conqueror.

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