Finally the crone opened her eye and lifted her arms. "I have seen his face, and heard the thunder of his hooves," she proclaimed in a thin, wavery voice.
The thunder of his hooves! the others chorused.
As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name. The old woman trembled and looked at Dany almost as if she were afraid. "The prince is riding, and he shall be the stallion who mounts the world."
The stallion who mounts the world! the onlookers cried in echo, until the night rang to the sound of their voices.
The one-eyed crone peered at Dany. "What shall he be called, the stallion who mounts the world?"
She stood to answer. "He shall be called Rhaego," she said, using the words that Jhiqui had taught her.