Sir Jorah and Mirri Maz Duur entered a few moments later, and found Dany standing over the other dragon's eggs, the two still in their chest. It seemed to her that they felt as hot as the one she had slept with, which was passing strange. "Sir Jorah, come here," she said. She took his hand and placed it on the black egg with the scarlet swirls. "What do you feel?"
Shell, hard as rock. The knight was wary. "Scales."
No. Cold stone. He took his hand away. "Princess, are you well? Should you be up, weak as you are?"
Weak? I am strong, Jorah. To please him, she reclined on a pile of cushions. "Tell me how my child died."
He never lived, my princess. The women say... He faltered, and Dany saw how the flesh hung loose on him, and the way he limped when he moved.
Tell me. Tell me what the women say.
He turned his face away. His eyes were haunted. "They say the child was... "
She waited, but Sir Jorah could not say it. His face grew dark with shame. He looked half a corpse himself.