"We regard the dragons as treasures. How did you find news of them?" Gendry asked Quaithe.
"Omens in the heavens, Storm. It was not only me. Many mages must have noticed," Quaithe replied.
Gendry nodded. The red comet had indeed been glaringly bright. Someone was bound to connect it with dragons.
"Beyond that, the power of mages is also growing stronger." Quaithe glanced at Qyburn and the tall warrior behind him, "John Strong," her meaning clear. "Half a year ago, I doubt the old Maester's 'headless' guard could ever have succeeded."
"Are everyone's spells growing stronger?" Qyburn could not help asking.
"The river of magic has always existed. It is only a matter of how high the waves rise. When the tide is too low, most people cannot sense the wonders of magic. Now magic is gradually reviving, and dragons are the strongest product of that magical tide. With the return of dragons, the world has become kinder to mages as well," Quaithe explained, her eyes glistening. "In Qarth, I saw a pyromancer summon a blazing ladder forty feet high. The mage leapt forward and climbed it swiftly, hand over hand like a monkey. With every rung he passed, that rung vanished behind his feet, leaving only a wisp of silver smoke. When he reached the top, both the man and the ladder disappeared without a trace."
Gendry listened to Quaithe. The truth was exactly as she said. Dragons represented a change in the magical environment. Even in an age without dragons, when magic was thin, there had still been mages like Bloodraven who broke through the restraints. After the tide of magic rose, the conditions for casting spells improved, and even a half-trained red priest like Thoros had gained true power.
"Isn't that just a trick?" Anguy asked curiously.
"It is no trick," Quaithe said.
Daenerys looked at Quaithe. "What do you mean by that, my lady?"
"Half a year ago, that pyromancer in Qarth could not even light a fire with dragonglass. He knew only petty tricks with powder and wildfire, at most enough to draw a few ignorant fools to watch so his pickpockets could work. He could walk across burning coals or make flaming roses bloom in midair, but he would never have expected to climb a ladder of fire, just as an ordinary fisherman would never expect to catch a Kraken in his net."
"So you are saying Daenerys and I have made their powers stronger?" Gendry asked Quaithe.
"Storm, True Dragon, you are the parents of dragons, are you not?" Quaithe looked at them. "Your path is the right one, Storm. Seeking strength from yourself is better than seeking it from others."
Gendry looked at Quaithe. Power came from bloodline or faith. Since he had no firm faith of his own, he had to choose another road.
"Of course they are, mage," Ser Barristan said, watching Quaithe. A woman from the Shadow Lands was unsettling.
"Go where you must go, and to the battlefields you must face," Quaithe said to Gendry.
"Where do you want us to go?" Daenerys asked.
"To go north, you must travel south. To reach the Westerlands, you must go east. To move forward, you must step back. To reach the cold, you must pass through fire. To find light, you must pass through shadow."
"Asshai and Dragonstone?" Gendry asked Quaithe. "Asshai is the Shadow Lands, and Dragonstone is a land of fire. But what am I supposed to do in Asshai? Asshai is a land of shadow. It has no ships, no armies. What exactly is there in Asshai?" Though aside from Dragonstone, the land of fire might also mean the ruins of Valyria.
"Truth," the masked woman replied.
"Why are you helping us?" Daenerys asked Quaithe, her violet eyes fixed on her with curiosity.
Quaithe had not harmed them. Instead, she had offered help, prophecy and warning.
"To see dragons is to rejoice. You are the ones who will break the deadlock, the parents of dragons," Quaithe said. "Dragons are Fire and Blood. Too many wish to possess them, but I am not that sort of sorcerer. A dragon's flesh and blood are made of fire, and fire is power. The paths of mages differ."
"Are you related to me and Gendry?" Dany could not help asking. Was there truly such a kindly mage in the known world? It did not seem entirely reasonable.
Quaithe neither shook her head nor nodded. She did not answer.
"In truth, you should go to the House of the Undying. There are some visions there."
"Visions are unfathomable, and prophecies are hard to grasp. If you insist on chasing prophecy, it will cost you your life," Gendry said aloud, like an atheist warrior breaking superstition. These strange and uncanny things did not need to be pursued obsessively. They could be taken as reference, but never worshiped. Many Targaryens had dreamed of dragons, and those dreams had taken every one of their lives.
Quaithe looked at Gendry, then laughed. "A Storm is a Storm indeed. No wonder Durran was called Godsgrief. To fear neither heaven nor earth, to make enemies of the gods, that is the true Storm. These words were not meant to be spoken here. I was supposed to say them only after you went to the House of the Undying, but I could not wait. I see mountains of corpses and seas of blood behind the Storm. Your crown is greater than those before you, and your war is greater than those before you. Who knows when you will ever reach Qarth?"
"Listen to me, Gendry, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles will be lit. The Pale Mare will come, and the rest will follow. Kraken and black flame, Titan and griffin, the son of the High Tower and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Beware the Undying. Beware the Fragrant Steward." After delivering this prophecy, Quaithe bowed to them both, then left the tent. She moved so quickly that she seemed like a blur of mist.
Quaithe's figure was gone from the room. She truly seemed to be a woman of shadow, leaving the others staring at one another.
Common forms of magic included elemental control, prophecy and divination, skinchanging, resurrection and necromancy, and enchantment. After meeting Quaithe, Gendry had at least heard of three of them.
"She is a true mage, and supremely skilled. More than that, she does not carry the rotten stink of magic," Maester Qyburn said with a sigh. Unfortunately, this almost miraculous mage would never be theirs to use. Before Quaithe, Qyburn felt how narrow his own abilities were. Quaithe could prophesy, vanish swiftly, and perhaps even enter dreams. All of it seemed almost divine.
"Watch my dragons. And make that warlock from Qarth leave at once." Gendry had no interest in the Undying. They did have some power, but not much. Mages who hid in shadows to cling to life were like houses on the verge of collapse. These people even dared to try drawing on his and Daenerys's life force to extend their own lives.
"Yes." Maester Qyburn nodded.
"Why is she so good to us?" Dany was still a little confused.
"She does not covet the dragons, which means she is a wise sorcerer," Gendry said.
Quaithe had left them two prophecies, both pointing to future wars and future figures. Kraken, red priests of R'hllor, griffins, Braavosi, the son of the High Tower, Bronn, the Undying, fat Varys. It seemed war could not be avoided after all.
Gendry suspected Quaithe might be some relative of the Targaryens, but there was no way to prove it.
"We also have similar talent on our side. There is an Archmaester at the Citadel who is versed in mysticism," Qyburn announced. "I believe he will receive our message, and I have already sent ships to Oldtown."
"The Mage" Marwyn was an Archmaester of the Citadel and an old acquaintance of Qyburn's. He possessed a Valyrian steel chain, a symbol of profound mastery in magic and the arcane.
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