The harbor of Lys was unnaturally quiet.
The Shy Maiden eased alongside the quay, her mooring ropes secured to smooth stone bollards.
Normally, the place would have rung with the sailors' bawdy calls and banter, mingled with the labored breathing of slaves silently hauling cargo.
Now, there was nothing.
Ships crowded the docks, everything from nimble cogs to lumbering cargo ships.
Yet their decks stood empty, with no one at the rails, no cargo being loaded or unloaded, and no crowds coming and going. Only the sea wind moaned through the masts and rigging, accompanied by the soft slap of water against the seawall.
The whole place lay empty and deathly still.
Young Griff and Jon Connington stepped onto the quay with a handpicked escort.
The sound of boots striking paving stones was magnified by the excessive silence, each footfall startlingly clear.
Everyone instinctively tightened their grip on the weapons at their waists, scanning their surroundings warily.
Amid that jarring emptiness, a group stood quietly waiting in a small open space ahead of the docks.
Sa Melis stood at their head.
She wore a dignified dark-purple gown beneath a gauzy wrap embroidered with silver thread. Her hair was gathered in an elegant bun, her face lightly powdered, her makeup exquisite, and an impeccable smile rested on her lips.
At the sight of Young Griff and his party, Sa Melis hurried forward, stopped at just the right distance, and curtsied gracefully. "Lord Jon Connington, Prince Aegon Targaryen, welcome to Lys."
"The Governor... sent me here to await you."
Her voice was still soft and lovely, but some of its languid sweetness had given way to crisp formality.
Jon Connington's sharp gaze swept across the deserted docks before returning to Sa Melis's face. "Lady Sa Melis, what has happened to the docks...?"