The Gift

When that difference in information paid off, the gains would be far greater than anyone expected.

The Womb of the World was the sacred lake of the Dothraki, and the place near which widowed khaleesi were expected to end their days. Here, no outsider should have appeared at all.

Illyrio and the others who had come for the gathering were placed far out on the edge of the camp. They would not be allowed to see what truly happened within.

Daenerys, meanwhile, had already been delivered to the khal's tent as a gift.

The moment she saw Lord Ronan, excitement rushed through her, followed at once by wounded resentment. Every bit of that soft, intimate grievance showed on her face.

Ronan, unfortunately, was not a man built for coaxing. As he saw it, Daenerys had already sworn herself to him, and now she had been offered to him as a gift.

From any angle, the Targaryen before him had tied herself to him, and Ronan had no intention of pretending otherwise. Expecting him to fawn over her in return was impossible.

Ronan beckoned, and Daenerys came to his side with shy reluctance. Her body slipped instinctively back into the familiar steps of service.

As a handmaid serving her lord, she could hardly put on the airs of a princess.

Fortunately, Daenerys was not truly trying to be high and distant. She was only blaming Lord Ronan for not coming to find her sooner.

Ronan naturally did not explain himself. Must a man explain every decision as though asking permission?

Under Ronan's charm, Daenerys soon yielded. Targaryen princess or not, she still ended up curled against him like a docile cat.

The gathering continued, though it belonged to the Dothraki alone. Illyrio and his party seemed almost abandoned until the day before the rites ended, when the magister finally earned the right to appear in the khal's tent with his additional gift.

By then Daenerys had not formally become a khaleesi, but her true position was no longer that of a Targaryen princess. She was Ronan's handmaid.

Soon, she would be bound to dragons as well. Illyrio did not disappoint. He presented a gift that drew every eye.

"Khal Ronan, these are three dragon eggs I prepared for Princess Daenerys. They are said to be the last dragon eggs known to the world."

Flattery filled Illyrio's face. Before Ronan, he no longer carried himself like a great magister. There was real fear beneath his courtesy now.

At the words "dragon eggs," nearly everyone looked toward the three plain, oval stones. If not for the khal's presence, more than one person would have reached out to touch them.

Daenerys looked at Ronan in shock, then back to the eggs. At his nod, she slowly stepped forward to study them and run her fingers over their hard surfaces.

"These are dragon eggs?"

"Yes. The last dragon eggs known to the world."

Ronan did not take Illyrio's certainty too seriously. Merchants loved such claims. The rarer the thing sounded, the more precious it became.

If Illyrio had obtained three dragon eggs, that at least proved dragons had not vanished completely. Perhaps they only remained in places mankind did not know.

The world behind A Song of Ice and Fire was vast. The lands familiar to men made up only a portion of it.

Eastward lay the Shadow Lands, southward the edge of Sothoryos, and beyond the known north stretched frozen wastes. Who could claim to know every secret of the Lands of Always Winter?

Putting that aside, Illyrio's gift still won him a measure of honor. Ronan asked lightly, "Can dragon eggs hatch?"

"Ah. That..."

Illyrio fell silent. All his praise curdled into embarrassment, and even Daenerys, who had been delighted, lost her voice.

The same thought passed through the tent. A stone was not especially wondrous. Even if a young dragon slept within it, what meaning did it have if it could never hatch?

Fortunately, Illyrio had brought more than petrified dragon eggs. He also offered gold, silver, treasure beyond easy counting, and a short sword forged of Valyrian steel.

A fine agate was set into the hilt, and the whole weapon had clearly been chosen for Daenerys. Illyrio had spent real thought on it.

Daenerys was predictably pleased. For anyone with a taste for pretty things, a beautiful jewel rarely missed its mark. Compared with dull stone eggs, the blade was much easier to love.

After her thanks came Drogo's gift: a silver filly and several female slaves. Daenerys loved the pretty little horse. The slaves barely caught her attention. With Lord Ronan beside her, she had few demands for attendants.

The remaining gift-givers were less impressive, but gifts were gifts. Daenerys had rarely received so many at once, and she sat beside Ronan with quiet delight.

When everyone began waiting for the khal's own gift, Ronan rose. He walked straight to the chest that held the petrified eggs and said, "My gift will be them."

The moment he touched them, Ronan felt the small lives inside the stone. Complete living beings, already fading, legendary creatures that longed for flame and the nourishment of life before they could be born.

The others assumed the khal merely meant to give Daenerys back Illyrio's gift. Illyrio was already smiling, ready with another round of praise.

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