Khal Drogo's face was still and hard, but his black eyes were curious as they went to Dany. "Tell me the truth of this, moon of my life," he commanded in Dothraki.
Dany told him what she had done, in his own tongue so the khal would understand her better, her words simple and direct.
When she was done, Drogo was frowning. "This is the way of war. These women are our slaves now, to do with as we please."
"It pleases me to hold them safe," Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. "If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons."
Qotho was ever the cruelest of the bloodriders. It was he who laughed. "Does the horse breed with the sheep?"
Something in his tone reminded her of Viserys. Dany turned on him angrily. "The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike."
Khal Drogo smiled. "See how fierce she grows!" he said. "It is my son inside her, the stallion who mounts the world, filling her with his fire. Ride slowly, Qotho... if the mother does not burn you where you sit, the son will trample you into the mud.