The man gave her a quick, sullen glance. "As the princess commands." He had to set aside his hammer to lift the cask. He filled two thimble-sized tasting cups, pouring so deftly he did not spill a drop.
Sir Jorah lifted a cup and sniffed at the wine, frowning.
Sweet, isn't it? the wineseller said, smiling. "Can you smell the fruit, ser? The perfume of the Arbor. Taste it, my lord, and tell me it isn't the finest, richest wine that's ever touched your tongue."
Sir Jorah offered him the cup. "You taste it first."
Me? The man laughed. "I am not worthy of this vintage, my lord. And it's a poor wine merchant who drinks up his own wares." His smile was amiable, yet she could see the sheen of sweat on his brow.
You will drink, Dany said, cold as ice. "Empty the cup, or I will tell them to hold you down while Sir Jorah pours the whole cask down your throat."
The wineseller shrugged, reached for the cup... and grabbed the cask instead, flinging it at her with both hands. Sir Jorah bulled into her, knocking her out of the way. The cask bounced off his shoulder and smashed open on the ground. Dany stumbled and lost her feet. "No," she screamed, thrusting her hands out to break her fall... and Doreah caught her by the arm and wrenched her backward, so she landed on her legs and not her belly.