There was no wind in Astapor that night.
The air was thick as syrup that would not dissolve, laden with the sour stench of rotting slave corpses and the cloying sweetness of cheap spices.
Lynn and his companions walked along the deserted streets.
The lights in the Good Masters' pyramid mansions had long since gone out. Only the torches hanging on the walls flickered dimly in the stifling air.
They stretched the party's shadows long, then short.
"A foolish decision."
Viserys followed behind them, muttering incessantly.
"We should be staying in that damned estate, drinking chilled wine and waiting for that fat man to deliver the slave army to us!"
"Not taking a stroll through this sewer!"
He glanced in disgust at the slaves huddled in the shadows at the street corners, their figures barely discernible.
"Look at these filthy things, Lynn. You should never have shown that slave girl any kindness yesterday."
"You gave her a gold coin. Now every vermin in this city will see you as fresh meat."
Daenerys clung tightly to Lynn's arm without a word.
Her other hand instinctively closed around a small pendant at her chest, a Three-Headed Ice Dragon carved from obsidian.
Lynn had commissioned a craftsman to carve it and then given it to her. Its smooth touch brought her a little comfort.
The bloody scene in the plaza that day still haunted her mind.
This city was vast and ugly. Every red brick was steeped in the blood and cries of the innocent.
"We're just out enjoying the night scenery. Don't be nervous, Your Grace."
Lynn kept walking.
"Before taking a city, we ought to get acquainted with its streets, shouldn't we?"
"Taking it?" Viserys scoffed.
"With that ridiculous spy of yours?"
"Or with your softhearted charity toward slaves?"
Without realizing