Chapter 168

When the old baron left, she stood alone in the corridor, seeing off the crescent moon.

Yili came to inquire of her twice, she answered vaguely, not knowing what she had said; then Jiji came, she said something, but she likewise couldn't recall what words she used to coax her away.

When all around fell silent and a cool breeze brushed past her, she felt waves of pain coming from the back of her fingers.

The wound had stopped bleeding, the congealed blood dried in the wind, as if dark scales were forming on the back of her hand; when the first ray of sunlight finally arrived, she looked at her injured hand. It was a mess, as if she had just strangled countless people with her hand.

"Take me to the bath!" When Misan Da discovered her in the morning sunlight, she spoke first, cutting off her question. She wanted to be quiet, not in the mood to talk.

"Yes." She wanted to get close to her, but seeing the bloodstains on her hand, she cried out; Daenerys had no choice but to grab her arm and help her walk toward the pyramid.

"Take me to bathe, Misan Da!" she said.

"Yes, sir..." she lowered her head, began walking silently, stealing glances at her face from the corner of her eye.

Sweat and tears streamed down her face, dried by the wind; she felt no discomfort, but rather an unprecedented sense of clarity.

Washing away the traces of tears and sweat makes one a newly reborn person.

She unfastened her nightgown; Yili reached out to help her take it off, Jiji supported her wounded hand and carefully led her to the bath. The bath greeted the sun, its ripples sparkling; where the water fell, a small rainbow formed in the sunlight. She couldn't help but look over, waving her hand to splash more water, yet it had no effect on the rainbow.

"Carrie!" Jiji raised her voice to remind her, so as not to get water in the wound; thus she sat honestly beside the bath, accepting their service, watching their graceful, gentle movements beside her, and all the preparations and rehearsals she had intended were thrown to the winds.

The gentle ripples swayed, scattering the morning sunlight lazily into the bedroom.

Like the scene she had once seen in a red‑gated courtyard, this impression suddenly flashed, and she came to from her stillness.

She shouldn't keep thinking about the courtyard. If they could stay here safely for a lifetime, then this place would be the courtyard; but she is no longer a little girl, and if she remained like this, someone would drive her out again.

The last time she was driven out, no one harmed her, but if there were another time, she didn't know what those who drove her out might do, or what they might do to the people around her.

Yili, Jiji, and little Misan Da—she couldn't tell their fate; if fortunate, they would serve a normal slave master or be killed; if unfortunate, they would encounter a cruel slave master. As for the people gathered around her, most would be killed, a few sold into slavery, and in the arena where she forbade duels, brutal performances would be staged…

Their fates are entirely in my hands; I cannot still think of the courtyard with the red gate.

To move forward, one must retreat. This was the secret Kui Xi told her.

But what if one wants to retreat? What if one wants to retreat back to that courtyard?

One must advance. She felt this was the answer.

For them, and for herself.

After a night, the bathwater had cooled, its freshness just right for her now.

She needed to wash away terror, to wash away wavering thoughts.

She lay down, submerged her head entirely in the water, feeling the water's buoyancy supporting her, imagining "Mother" supporting her.

She could not stay hidden forever, just as she could not hold her breath underwater for long. She suddenly thrust her head out of the water, gasping deeply.

She saw the maidens looking at her, bewildered.

She pushed aside the chilled fruit Yili offered, and rose from the bath.

Water droplets trailed down her hair ends, her face, and her hills.

Yili hastily put down the fruit tray, fetched a towel, half-wrapped it around her, and helped her dry off.

"What's wrong with you, Carrie?" Yili asked her.

I am not Carrie; Cao is dead, and Carrie will no longer be.

"I want to wear that red silk long robe," the one like blood, "and the obsidian pendant."

"Yes, Carrie." Yili looked at her doubtfully, then fetched the clothing as she wished.

"Do you need to wear bunny ears?" Yili asked, "Bunny ears are cute, but they're rather cumbersome!"

She hesitated a moment.

"I've heard a joke," a not‑very‑clever joke that Dario said while biting her ear in bed, which she remembers clearly: "The joke says, anything a woman wears is just to make it easier for a man to take off." She laughed, "Put them on, then—I might take them off for the men."

"If it's for taking it off, why put it on in the first place?" Yili puzzled.

"Because the men are all too short." Jiji covered her mouth but couldn't hide her hysterical laughter, "We always need to give them an excuse to waste time on other things."

Mocking men is these women's amusement; if left to them, they could chat from morning until the sun sets behind the hills, but she had other things to do. Thus, at her urging, the two sped up, drying her and combing her hair, and even painting her toenails a strange color.

Once everything was ready, she began her work.

The Gray Worms must be waiting for her to report last night's situation.

She didn't know whether she hoped someone would die or not; she couldn't make up her mind.

As she descended the pyramid, those stationed above stood still, observing.

Dario paced boredly, showing off his naked‑woman dagger back and forth, a mocking smile on his face; the burly Besos leaned against a thick pillar, patting his big belly as if rehearsing a splendid fight on his stomach; the Gray Worm held up a three‑spiked helmet in the hall, staring at the empty queen's throne, his thoughts unreadable. The hero turned his back to him, as if standing guard together; Skaratz Mo Kantak, this round‑headed lord, paced the hall, looking as if he wanted to devour everything.

Seated nearby, waiting, was Kou, her blood‑sworn guards.

Jogo was carefully wiping his silver‑handled long whip with a coarse cloth, his solid copper‑toned muscles and youthful face giving Daenerys a sense of his vitality and reliability. In battle he is brave and fearless of death, but in life he is as naive as Yili, often spouting nonsense that makes her sigh; Ago might be better—his duty is to manage for her the few Dothraki riders and tribesmen under her command, but he hasn't reported his management in ages. He too is routinely waiting here, one foot on the seat, the dragon‑bone bow slung diagonally across his neck being swung back and forth, the little bells on his whip tinkling softly; Rakallo carries Ago, meticulously polishing the Arakh blade with a coarse cloth, but his curved little beard draws more attention than the blade itself.

These are her chief subordinates, the foundation of her rule over Meereen, her conquest of the world, and her reliance in battling beasts.

Sir Selmy held a longsword, fully attired; his footsteps drew their attention, and then they fixed their gaze on her as she entered.

They all rose to their feet.

She saw Dario flash a smile, perhaps preparing a remark to make her laugh, but she wasn't in the mood to hear it; she sensed his perceptiveness, so he curled his lips and joined the others in paying respects.

She had originally intended to conceal something, but seeing these people before her, everything vanished, leaving only resolve.

Her Kou had no thoughts of their own; her will was theirs; the Unsullied were her tools—whatever she wanted to do, they would help her fulfill it; the round‑headed lord Skaratz's brutality surpassed anyone present, and no matter how cruel her ideas, he could instantly amplify them tenfold; and beside him, Dario would mock that Skaratz hadn't added enough…

She did not smile as she usually did, and the hall fell into an odd silence.

"My queen, I must say, wearing those bunny ears gives you a unique charm," Dario began, "and putting on that red robe makes you even more stunning than the most beautiful woman I've ever seen—ah, she can only barely compare to you."

"Oh? And who is that most beautiful woman?" That's a foolish question; he's given the answer many times in bed.

"Beautiful queen, I suddenly forgot," he gave a teasing smile, "but after careful observation I still think she falls short of you."

"I'm grateful for her concession," she knew he was about to show off some petty cleverness, and she refused to let him have his way, absolutely unwilling to ask him here who she was—such a stupid question, especially in this hall—"You still have time to remember." She turned her gaze to the Gray Worm, "Please report the news!" No matter how bad.

Bad is good. Would Kui Xi think so too? She felt everything was a jumble, so she forced herself to calm down.

"Three are dead," the Gray Worm said briefly and sadly, "all of them patrolling Unsullied."

"They were ambushed and killed by the Harpy's sons on Silk Street and Freedom Avenue," Lord Round Skull shouted, cutting in, "I'm certain it was the Daznak family."

"Where's the evidence?" the Queen asked.

"What evidence is needed? It's right next to their pyramid; the Unsullied gave chase, but they vanished near a pyramid that's now missing—if they aren't sheltering them, who else could be?"

"I understand." the Queen said calmly, "Continue, Grey Worm."

"Thugs burst into the textile workers' quarters, smashed their looms, raped them, cut their throats, and hung them on the tapestries they had produced."

"They had once sent her a tapestry," she thought.

"How many died?"

"Seven." Grey Worm said, "The remaining few had both hands chopped off, tongues cut out, eyes gouged out; when found, they had a goat's phallus hanging around their necks."

"They were provoking her; she felt her face flush, and she almost wanted to laugh angrily."

"This is her fault. If she hadn't been so indecisive, they wouldn't have died, and the survivors wouldn't have to endure torment worse than death."

"Very well." she heard herself say. "This case, Lord Round Skull, do you know the culprit?"

"Of course it's the Harpy's sons!" he nearly shouted.

"Everyone knows it, but you don't know who the Harpy's sons are."

"She thought of the twelve adorable Ghis noble girls beneath her pyramid, imagined them having their hands and feet cut off and hanged, she shook her head—at least this had nothing to do with them, but surely it was connected to their families."

"To reach the light, one must pass through shadow." She thought.

"Tonight's banquet, I will receive the Quyrs guests; before that I must handle today's petition..."

"Yes, the banquet and the petition! I hope these banquets and petitions can buy back your dead eunuch!" Lord Round Skull shouted at her, "I hope those slaves who aren't dead still have the breath to come here today, tomorrow, and the day after to petition you!"

Daenerys glanced at him coolly, no longer finding his face frightening, only sad. She looked toward Ser Barristan, and then the old knight stepped down the stairs and stood before Lord Round Skull.

"If I were you, I'd listen to the Queen's words," Ser Selmy said to Lord Round Skull, then glanced at Daenerys, "the Queen doesn't have much time."

"I don't want to handle these things with anger and anxiety, so—" she looked at Lord Round Skull. "He and his beast-faced army, the Rhisians, and the other freed slaves are best suited for this task." "I need you to, before I handle the petition, storm the Daznak family's pyramid, and also the pyramid nearest the textile workers' quarters—I think it should be called the Rehada Pyramid." Issuing the order isn't that hard, but she still felt herself trembling, her body drifting, "Those born in odd years will hang those born in even years before them," regardless of gender or age, but she hoped no one would ask about it, treating it as if the Queen had issued an order she hadn't noticed. "I hope the surviving ones will give you information about the Harpy's sons; if not, take the remaining number, divide it by two, and hang those where the remainder is odd." "Tomorrow we will deal with the leads they gave, and I hope tomorrow you have something to do."

She again felt pain all over her body. This is the pain and trial one must endure to crawl out of the crack, this is the shadow that must be passed through.

"Captain Dario, I don't think this is funny at all," she stared at him, "take your Stormcrows to oversee Lord Round Skull; if he can't take it today, hang him too—who let him only talk big?"

Lord Round Skull widened his eyes.

"Just oversee? That's too easy." He eyed Lord Round Skull with ill intent.

"When necessary, help him count, if you can—after all, the numbers in the Ghis calendar are huge."

"No problem, I'm the captain, my math is good and my memory excellent," he gave a roguish smile, "Ha, I finally remembered who the most beautiful woman is, Your Highness! That person was yesterday's Meereen queen; in my view, she can't even compare to today's Mother of Dragons."