Jaehaerys leaned forward on Valar's back. "We can still catch them if we push hard, brother."
Daeron held up a hand. "Let him finish."
They could reach Qohor in three days at full speed on Caraxes. Whether they actually caught the merchants depended on luck and timing.
Machiro's dark face was slick with sweat. His voice came out rough as he pulled the last fragments from the fire. "Gray fog… people turning to stone… don't touch it…"
A tongue of flame suddenly snapped upward from the fire pit. Everyone stepped back.
Machiro blinked hard and came out of the trance, breathing like he'd just run a mile.
"You said people turning to stone," Daeron said. "What does that mean?"
"Greyscale," Machiro answered immediately.
Jaehaerys and Victarion both went still. The other ironborn looked uneasy.
Greyscale was a death sentence. In Volantis, anyone who caught it got exiled straight to the Smoking Sea. Victims slowly turned gray and hard, their skin cracking into stone-like scales until they lost their minds and became violent monsters.
Daeron knew exactly how bad it was. He'd read about Jorah Mormont catching it in the show timeline.
"So the merchants might be carrying greyscale?" he asked.
Machiro shook his head. "That's all the fire showed me."
Daeron accepted it. A limited vision was better than a perfect one. Perfect prophecies always came with hidden knives.
Machiro cleared his throat. "I can make you protective pouches. They won't stop everything, but they'll help against infection."
Daeron nodded. "Do it."
Machiro didn't leave right away. He lingered by the fire like he still had something stuck in his throat.
"You've got more," Daeron said.
The big priest looked uncomfortable. "I had a dream. I don't think it was just a dream."
Daeron's attention sharpened. "Tell me."
"I saw the Smoking Sea gone," Machiro said quietly. "Wiped out in one massive explosion of fire and light."
The words hung in the air.
Daeron didn't laugh. He thought about the Three-Eyed Crow's warning. He thought about how early the red comet had arrived this time. He thought about how fast magic was waking up.
Machiro kept going. "If you're going after that egg, you need to be back here in half a month. That's when the fire comes."
Victarion frowned. "You're telling us the Smoking Sea is going to explode like the Doom all over again?"
Machiro didn't answer. He'd already said what the fire and the dream had shown him. Anything more would just be guessing.
Daeron looked at Jaehaerys, then back at the priest.
"Make the pouches," he said. "We're leaving soon."
He wasn't going to let one vision stop him from getting that egg. But he also wasn't stupid enough to ignore the warning completely.
Half a month. That was the deadline.