Power. Power meant the end of the game.
Power to strike out, to survive. To command armies and burn cities to the ground. The wheel had it, for the longest time, and thus the wheel survived. To break the wheel was a simple matter. Get power, and get more of it. Then put it to use. The game would not end until one person claimed victory for good. Ethan Ming knew this. At this time, he may have known better than anyone else.
He saw the queen’s eyes on him. She had been through no small amount of suffering. He knew it. He saw it, after all. But under the thin veil of majesty she hid herself under, Ethan knew he was still looking at the eyes of a young woman. A young woman that thought very much like a child.
It would suit his purposes.
“Could I make Meereen such a place?” Daenarys’ voice came.
Ethan’s eyes returned to her. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It would be the work of a lifetime, of many lifetimes. But there is no doubt that it can be done. It has been, after all.”
He gauged her reaction. His mind was spinning already. It was quite an effort, not lying while not being entirely honest. But it was one of many unfortunate necessities. It would not do to lose her favor or direct her in the wrong direction, even if it was for telling the truth. Especially if it was just for the truth. He would find himself in no trouble as long as she never found out.
He watched her face change as she took the information in. Awe, desire, ambition in one part. A sadness of sorts in the other, with hints of impatience. Not too different from what he would have expected. But then there was the important part.
“How?”
Ethan had thought of it, long before coming into the palace. There was a good amount of things he had in mind, but knowing the plan and executing it were two different things. And getting credibility, winning trust, having the support to see it completed. No, the risk was too large, he had concluded. Far better to be safe.
His answer came with a practiced ease. “I am no king, your grace. I come from a distant land, and knowledge without experience is of little use alone.” Humble and reasonable. No immediate power, but influence and credibility will be easier to obtain. He was satisfied with that.
“The path to what you saw will be different for every kingdom, for every people. Much as a ship may take many routes to its destination, although a few may be the most traveled.” Enough to explain changes, and errors, yet also enough to grant credibility for whatever suggestions he may make. Sufficient for the time being.
In his mind, he saw possibilities open and close. Being regent was no longer likely, although it would have been difficult to begin. Neither was remaining entirely on the fringes possible..
It was something of an art, winning trust, gaining influence. Not all was according to plan, but fast thinking and forward thinking would give him something of an advantage. It felt a little sad, at times, being unable to be completely honest. Doctoring every word. But it would serve him better, in the long run.
He saw her eyes gleam. “And what path might that be?”
The question caught him off guard. The plan wasn’t mature or complete yet, and rather lacking in many areas. No, more down to earth expectations would be better.
“Changes in the way men live and work, in governance. In how they think and how they learn. And more. It would be impossible to explain in such a short time. Books have been written on the course kingdoms have risen to greatness, and countless kingdoms have. For yours, I cannot say. I must have more information to make a judgment. Sweeping conclusions, I fear, are the tools of con men and all manner of tricksters. I could tell you of the path my home took, if you like. Though I fear I must do so at another time.”
“I see.” He saw some of the fire in her eyes burn out now. What was it that she was now feeling? Doubt? Uncertainty? No, he needed to strike the iron while it was still hot. It was only when Barristan motioned that Ethan realized his mistake.
“Yes, good Ser?”
Ethan hid his frown. He took too long.
“I always hated politics, your grace. There was very little I had to offer to your father, save my sword. I have always counted myself last among those who should advise queens.”
“You are too harsh, good Ser.” Daenarys protested. “You will always remain a trusted advisor of mine.”
“Take my advice then, your grace. Do not trust this man.”
The room fell silent suddenly, and Ethan became aware of Barristan’s eyes. Not a glare, but unfriendly. Like some seasoned cop hearing a drunkard’s excuses. He moved his hands behind his back to clench them.
Ethan chuckled. “I have heard that men’s eyes fail them in old age. Clearly it is not the case for knights, Ser Barristan. I must commend you as an excellent judge of character.”
Two pairs of eyes stared at him. Then Daenarys laughed. “Indeed, good Ser, it seems to me that he is quite a dishonest man.”
Ethan faced Barristan now. “I am a man of many faults, honorable Ser. But I must beg you to entertain my curiosity. Which was it that made you mislike me?”
The knight’s eyes narrowed. To his credit, he kept his composure. “For honest men, words are never difficult to find. They do not weave webs around the truth. This man speaks like another I know.”
“Varys, the spider.” He spat it out like sour wine.
“A eunuch that no man can trust. I know very little of politics, your grace, but I cannot say any different for this man.”
“It does not befit a knight to be dishonest.” Ethan chided. “Why, you know more than most kings!”
Dany’s giggles were more forced this time. Barristan remained unamused.
“But you are right.” Ethan conceded. “I must apologize if you feel deceived, but a traveler cannot be too careful in speaking to kings. A man in these times can travel far, and in far and strange places there are rulers that are stranger yet. There are courts where the tiniest breaches of etiquette could have one ignored or exiled, and even more where it could be death. A traveler must thus choose his words carefully, to ensure no offense is given. But this is a civilized land, and I feel quite safe. If there is any question you would ask of me, ask freely. I will answer with as much truth as I can.”
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“You speak of truth like some dear thing you are loath to part with.”
Ethan did his best impression of a guilty smile. “I am no knight, good Ser. There are a great deal of embarrassments, scandals, misunderstandings and funny tales alike I could share. But I will ask as a proud man that you spare me the humiliation of sharing.”
Dany’s eyes lit up now. “Oh? Do tell.”
“I do implore you for mercy, your grace.” Ethan said. His faux panic was more real this time.
The mother of dragons was not in a merciful mood that day.
And so Ethan went on and on with real and fake stories of his travels. Paying gold instead of silver. Language misunderstandings that almost ended in a marriage. A sorry dressmaker, who wove some wretched cloth that fell off the moment he left the shop. By the end of it all Dany was laughing like some little girl. Barristan stood by, the impassive frown never leaving his face. But Ethan noticed he didn’t speak up, and was content with that.
It was almost a disappointment when they returned to official business.
“The path changes. A kingdom is oft beset by many problems, and many problems have many solutions. I am aware of a few, but I must admit to ignorance. If I may, my grace, what plagues your mind? Perhaps it is a problem my people encountered some time ago. I may have a solution.”
He saw her eyes brighten up again, though not as bright as they had been when he was entertaining her with stories.. “Have you heard of the sons of the harpy, Master Ming?”
“Misfits and murderers, criminals all. They are the worst of men.”
“Quite so.” Daenarys fumed, and for a moment her composure cracked. “They come in the dark to slit the throats of honest men, and when my soldiers come they hide like cockroaches.”
“Insurgents and rebels, then. What have your whisperers discovered about them?”
There was a sudden silence. In moments, she had regained her composure. “I have not had a need for whisperers.” Caught off guard, saving face. Ethan knew the feeling.
“Of course.” He said, good naturedly. “It would not do to spy on one’s subjects when they are doing honest work. I am sure that the slaves you so kindly freed are loyal men.”
He saw her cheeks puff up slightly. “Of course.”
“Though the same does not seem to be true of these criminals.”
“No.” She agreed. Ethan waited for some time. “Perhaps now is the time.”
Ethan’s mouth twitched as he bowed. “You are wise, my grace. Would you hear a recommendation of mine?”
“Speak freely.”
“I am a chronicler, and gathering tales is part of my profession. I have a talent of sorts for finding stories, and any tale on the harpies may be able to help your grace show them justice. If you could provide me with a stipend, I may be able to find some whisperers for you. I am a foreigner, and new. No failure of mine shall reflect poorly on anyone. Perhaps you could entrust me with a small sum of gold, which I could use to obtain some whisperers.”
And just like that, his palms were out.
Barristan’s eyes narrowed. “You grace, I must counsel against this. He asks for much, and offers more. Perhaps more than is reasonable.”
Daenarys hid her frown well. She turned to Ethan. “You seem to be an honest man.”
Ethan’s smile changed. “I am glad.” That it seems that way, he added silently.
“The harpies are dangerous. Finding information will not be easy.” Discouraging. She wanted him to not have the job, but wouldn’t be so impolite as to say it. Ethan saw Barristan nod.
There were a few possibilities. Lack of trust was likely the real reason. Lack of trust in his credibility, in his capabilities. Ethan thought for some time. “It will be difficult, no doubt. But to succeed a man must first try. Time is of the essence, your grace. Innocents paint your cities red. Certainly I owe them an honest attempt. Perhaps it shall amount to very little, but a copper is better than an empty hand. I do not believe I would be a bad choice, and a better replacement can always be found, in time.”
He turned to Barristan now. “Ser, I understand your misgivings. Rest assured, this is merely a temporary measure. Bad steel may be necessary until one finds the silver for a better blade. Perhaps you do not believe me, but I have good intentions. If you doubt me, have a guard assigned to monitor my movements. Unsullied, perhaps?”
“In Westeros, it is custom for a man to prove himself before attaining high position.”
“In Westeros, is it not also custom for a man to be innocent until they are given a trial and charges against him are proven true? I am asking for a small fund, with which I may use to provide a great service. And what shall her grace lose from it, should I fail? A pouch of gold and a few minutes time. Hardly a king’s ransom”
“If we were to hand a pouch of gold to any man, the treasury would be emptied by nightfall.”
Ethan turned to Dany now. “Why, of course. But to never invest in an opportunity when it comes? I shall make no claims to being an honest man, but I have eyes, and I see that there is a lack of whisperers in Meereen. Evil men have mistaken your mercy for weakness, your grace, and we both agree you must correct that, have we not?. If it is not me, then who? The unsullied know nothing of whisperers, and neither does our good Ser. Surely you will not have him be your first whisperer? There is such a thing as being too honest. Our good Ser speaks no word that is not the truth or his thoughts. And the men of the pyramids? Why, all they shall whisper of is your downfall.”
He bowed. “I mean only to pay what I owe, both to my conscience and my fellow man. Please allow me this chance, your grace. I vow to gods and men you shall not regret your decision.”
“Owe?” Her curious voice held the tiniest hint of suspicion. “Have you met my people before, Master Ming?”
“Yes.” He said feeling some fire return to him. “I see them every day.”
His voice grew quiet. “In the galleys. The prisons. The mines and the fields. Starving, sobbing, alone and oppressed by man and beast alike. I would know. I have been to countless places, countless lands, and I was once one of them.”
His hands balled into fists as memories flew by. Names and faces. Hands joined, singing. The screams that filled the air as black batons came crashing down. And in the midst of it all, thousands of hands reaching out to the skies, crying out for freedom.
His voice rose now, soft, but it filled the entire room. “Are we not all people? Be us from Yi Ti, the Free cities, Westeros or beyond? Do we not all have human hands and human feet, human souls and human dreams? What crime have they committed, to have a fate like they did? Slaving away to satisfy the cruelty of others? I will not help them because they have done something for me, my queen. I help because slavery is not a fate that should be forced on any man, and so it is my duty to see them freed. Just as you freed them from slavery, I also wish to free them from the constant fear of death. I believe you understand me, my queen.”
He started walking closer, closer. Barristan’s hands returned to his sword, but didn’t approach. “You.” Ethan repeated, so close his nose was almost touching hers. “More so than anyone else in this world.”
He could see her eyes glow now, burning with some of the fire he had just lit. “Not just your duty. Mine too. You shall have all the help I can give.”
Ethan bowed. And the fish bites, he thought. “I thank you, your grace. Do I have permission to begin working?”
“You do.”
He nodded, and then spun around. He had walked a few steps before she called out suddenly. “Wait!”
He turned back. “Some men speak of tales that drove them to do great things, Master Ming. Is there one that you have?” She asked.
He thought for some time. “There were many.” He said at last. “But I believe there is one tale you would very much like. Joan of Arc was only a peasant girl when her country was torn apart by war. Invaders came to pillage her home, and her countrymen cried for surrender. She would not have any of it. It was said that from girlhood, she had heard the voices of gods.”
“A peasant?” Daenarys sounded half amazed and half amused.
“Where most men would fear death she charged, and with her she carried the banner that armies would follow. A commander who led from the front, winning wars with courage where even the best generals would have failed. She was pious, humble, and above all a true leader of men. Not a strong woman, if you were to ask a muscled brute. Yet every man could see the pure and unbroken strength of her soul, from which battle was won. It was said that no man could have been more brave, more courageous.”
He smiled at her. “I would have said the same for all women I have known, until now.”