Her glance roamed the crowded tables near the walls, where men whose braids were even shorter than their manhoods sat on frayed rugs and flat cushions around the low tables, but all the faces she saw had black eyes and copper skin. She spied Sir Jorah Mormont near the center of the hall, close to the middle firepit. It wasa place of respect, if not high honor; the Dothraki esteemed the knight's prowess with a sword. Dany sent Jhiqui to bring him to her table. Mormont came at once, and went to one knee before her. "Khaleesi," he said, "I am yours to command."
She patted the stuffed horsehide cushion beside her. "Sit and talk with me."
You honor me. The knight seated himself cross-legged on the cushion. A slave knelt before him, offering a wooden platter full of ripe figs. Sir Jorah took one and bit it in half.
Where is my brother? Dany asked. "He ought to have come by now, for the feast."
I saw His Grace this morning, he told her. "He told me he was going to the Western Market, in search of wine."
Wine? Dany said doubtfully. Viserys could not abide the taste of the fermented mare's milk the Dothraki drank, she knew that, and he was oft at the bazaars these days, drinking with the traders who came in the great caravans from east and west. He seemed to find their company more congenial than hers.