The blood on the canal had yet to spread fully when Aegon returned to the pleasure boat.
He flicked the blood from Dark Sister and sheathed it, as calmly as though he had just finished his morning exercises.
His gaze swept over the unconscious assassins on the deck.
"These men."
Aegon spoke, his voice carrying with particular clarity over the silent water.
"Hardly look like servants of the Many-Faced God."
Bellegere emerged from behind a pillar in the cabin. Wood chips and dust clung to her dark blue skirts, and her hair was slightly disheveled, but her eyes were clear again.
She crouched and lifted an assassin's collar with her fingertips, exposing his neck. There was no specially made human-skin mask of the kind the Faceless Men used, only the rough skin common among mercenaries and an old scar.
"Remember the test I mentioned earlier?"
She rose and dusted off her hands. "I believe these men were it."
"The Governor of Pentos paid for the professional services of the Faceless Men. Others... those who don't want you to reach an agreement with the Iron Bank, used cheap lives to measure the worth of a True Dragon."
She walked to the gunwale, watching the crowd beginning to gather in the distance and listening to the faint whistles. The Braavosi Guard was on its way.
"The waters of Braavos run deep, Your Highness."
"The Iron Bank is not united. For every person willing to invest in the new king of Westeros, another sees any change as a threat."
"Not to mention the families with business interests across the Narrow Sea. They have no desire to see a powerful Targaryen return to the Iron Throne."
Aegon gave a cold laugh.
It was a quiet sound, yet it seemed to chill the canal air