Chapter 173: Rhapsody of Pentos (7)
"Where is this?" Viserys asked, stepping down from the carriage and lifting the red hood from his head. The light of the setting sun was blinding. Shielding his eyes, he directed his complaint at Ian. "You said you would help me get away from Illyrio, that you'd found a place for us. But you've brought me to a common street! And we're still surrounded by Illyrio's Unsullied. How could you do this?"
Seeing the rage building in Viserys's eyes, Ian remained impassive, ignoring him completely.
"Ian? Are you listening to me?" Viserys's temper flared, stung by Ian's indifference.
"Oh, yes, Your Majesty," Ian said, his eyes narrowed to slits. "We are still being watched by a contingent of Unsullied. But you will be free of them soon. Very soon."
"Truly? What do you intend to do?"
"Do you know why I brought you to this specific location?" Ian murmured, leaning close to Viserys's ear.
"Why?" Viserys was irritated by Ian's tone, but the thought of finally possessing his sister made him swallow his pride.
"Because before we set out, I had a falcon scout this area thoroughly," Ian explained. "I discovered that Hazan and his men deployed a total of four sentry posts outside Illyrio's manse. This one sits at the crossroads between the port entrance and the temple on the hilltop. As long as we eliminate them, Hazan will lose track of my movements, at least for a short while."
"What are you talking about?" Viserys asked, his face a mask of confusion.
"Look up, Your Majesty. Look to your left, at that small building there. Tell me what you see on the roof," Ian whispered, then stepped away.
Still bewildered, Viserys did as he was told, lifting his gaze in the direction Ian had indicated. His eyes widened in shock.
There, on the roof of the small building, he saw a crossbowman taking aim directly at him. The man was a mere ten yards away; at that distance, even a child could not miss. And Viserys recognized the man holding the crossbow. It was Denzel, the Dornishman—Ian's own squire.
"Goodbye, Your Majesty," Viserys heard Ian whisper from behind him. "You are free."
A crossbow bolt slammed into his chest.
Blood instantly soaked the front of his red robes. Before he could even form the question *why*, he collapsed backward onto the street.
"Assassins!" Ian roared, throwing himself in front of Viserys's body as if to shield it from any further bolts.
"Dovaogedys!" the Unsullied squad leader, identifiable by the two spikes on his helm, shouted the Valyrian command to his men. "Aderi!"
In moments, fifty Unsullied split into two groups, forming a tight shield wall around Ian and the carriage.
"What happened?" Daenerys's voice came from the carriage. She raised the curtain, her expression puzzled by the commotion, only to see her brother lying in a pool of his own blood, with Ian standing guard over his body.
A scream tore from her throat.
"Be careful, Your Highness!" Celia, who was in the carriage with her, quickly reached out and pulled the curtain shut. "The Usurper's assassins are nearby. You are one of their targets as well."
"The Usurper's assassins? How can that be?" Daenerys was clearly terrified, tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks. "Viserys," she asked, her voice choked with panic, "how is Viserys?"
"Your Majesty..." Celia began, wanting to offer some comfort, but the words died in her throat.
Ian had not shared this part of his plan with her. When Viserys was struck, Celia had been just as shocked as everyone else, but she understood almost immediately. This was all Ian's design. The only person he ever intended to take with him was Daenerys. The moody beggar king no longer had any value to him.
In that case, was there any hope for Viserys?
None at all. Realizing this, Celia found she could not bring herself to offer Daenerys false hope. It would only deepen the eventual sorrow.
"No," Daenerys whispered, seeming to read the truth in Celia's expression. An impossibly complex wave of emotion washed over her.
Was it sadness? Or terror? Perhaps… perhaps there was a sliver of joy in it, of relief?
Even she couldn't say. She was lost in confusion—confused at having lost her purpose, confused at being utterly alone.
Celia said no more, deciding to give the girl a moment to grieve in solitude. Peeking through the window, she saw Ian carrying Viserys's body to the carriage and pushing him inside.
"Unsullied, on my command!" Ian's voice cut through the air. He turned and pointed to the building adjacent to the assassin's perch—Hazan's mercenary stronghold. "Sweep that building! Find the assassins and kill them all! Avenge your king!"
At his order, the Unsullied divided again. One group maintained their defensive formation around the carriage while the other charged toward Hazan's sentry post without hesitation.
"We have to go," Ian said to Daenerys, then lowered the curtain and mounted his horse.
Without waiting for the assault team to return, he gave the order to the remaining men. "To the port."
***
Marthe Tetrus, eldest son of Governor Tetrus, led his family's elite cavalry through the disorganized resistance of the Chamber of Commerce militia, arriving outside Illyrio's grand manse. According to the plan, he was to rendezvous with Hazan here, and together they would command their combined forces to encircle and annihilate Illyrio's loyalists.
To his surprise, however, Hazan was nowhere to be seen. Marthe had been waiting for some time, his thousand men already surrounding the estate, but there was still no sign of the mercenary captain's army.
To make matters worse, he had just received ill tidings.
A spy returning from the Palace of Parliament reported that its gates had been sealed. This puzzled Marthe immensely. The closing of the Palace was a sign that the Grand Council was conducting a trial; the guards would only take such a measure to prevent any outside interference with the proceedings.
Yet, according to the plan his father had laid out that morning, a trial in the Palace was not part of their strategy. They could never sentence Illyrio to death by a simple vote; launching a trial would be a waste of precious time. This unforeseen development left Marthe feeling agitated and vaguely uneasy.
The rumors that had spread through Pentos all day—that the foreign prince had forged an alliance with Illyrio—only amplified his anxiety.
Fortunately, Hazan arrived before Marthe's patience wore out completely. About ten minutes later, the mercenary and his cavalry finally appeared at the gates of Illyrio's manse.
"Why haven't you attacked?" was the first thing Hazan demanded.
"Attack?" Marthe scoffed. "Everyone knows Illyrio's most elite Unsullied are garrisoned in that manse. Without you, how was I to attack alone?"
"I was delayed. My advance met with considerable resistance," Hazan said, his tone clipped. He gestured to his men. "Illyrio's Chamber of Commerce militia, with support from the Unsullied, threw up barricades to block our path. Many of my men have yet to break through."
"Is that so? Then why did I encounter no resistance on my approach?" Marthe did not quite believe him, but seeing that Hazan's soldiers were indeed spattered with blood, he let the matter drop. He changed the subject. "By the way, the Palace of Parliament is sealed. It's the signal for a trial in the Grand Council. Can you explain what's happening?"
"A trial? The Palace is sealed?" Hazan frowned and shook his head. "I received no such news. We've been locked in battle with Illyrio's militia since we entered the XC district. I've heard nothing new since then."
"In other words, this wasn't your arrangement?" Marthe pressed.
The expressions on both their faces turned grim.
Things were clearly spiraling beyond their control.