The massive doors of bronze and black iron slowly swung inward with a low, heavy creak.
A wave of warm air washed over him, laden with cloying spices and the fragrance of food.
Inside, two rows of slaves in spotless white linen stood solemnly with their heads bowed.
Their bare feet rested on the cold marble floor, and they dared not make a sound.
At the end of the rows stood a mountain of a man beside a burbling fountain.
Illyrio Mopatis.
The governor of Pentos.
A man who had amassed boundless wealth through spices, gems, slaves, and even war.
He wore a purple silk robe large enough to make two tents.
Strand upon strand of jewels hung around his fat neck.
Glittering rings covered his short, thick fingers.
He labored to wipe the sweat constantly seeping from his forehead and chin with a silk handkerchief.
Yet the small eyes buried behind folds of fat gleamed with a shrewdness and sharpness wholly at odds with his bloated frame.
"An honored guest from afar. Welcome to Pentos."
Illyrio's voice was smooth and oily, and his face bore the carefully measured warmth of a merchant's smile.
He had clearly received word already.
He might even have witnessed the astonishing sight of the dragon landing on the beach outside the city.
But he did not mention it, merely studying the young man who had come alone with a quietly appraising gaze.
The sumptuous Eastern silk Lynn wore, along with his black hair and black eyes, left him feeling that the young man was difficult to fathom.
That unusual hair color and complexion made him look like someone from Essos.
"Governor."
Lynn inclined his head slightly and walked inside with complete composure.
As though returning to his own home, he ignored the lavish, exotic