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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
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"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 60: Quaithe
Joffrey stood near the entrance, his eyes fixed on the masked figure at the center of the room. The Hound loomed behind him.
Varys had positioned himself near a shadowed corner, his pale face half-hidden in the gloomy lighting.
Ser Jorah stood at the princess's side, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, tense and ready for anything.
Quaithe made no move to greet them. She simply stood there, her red lacquer mask catching the cold blue light from the torches, her bandaged hands resting on a table cluttered with ancient scrolls. The glyphs on the walls pulsed faintly, as if the tower itself was breathing.
"Daenerys Stormborn," she said. "You came."
"You summoned me." Daenerys stepped forward, her dragon stirring on her shoulder. Drogon hissed, smoke curling from his nostrils, his golden eyes fixed on the shadowbinder. "In Qarth, you told me to come to Asshai. You told me I would find the truth here. What truth am I to find here? What am I supposed to look for?"
Quaithe was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft, almost thoughtful. "To go west, you must first go east. To go forward, you must go back. To touch the light, you must pass beneath the shadow." She tilted her head. "You remember those words."
"I remember. I have repeated them a thousand times. I still do not understand their meaning."
"Understanding comes with time. Patience, Princess. The shadows do not reveal their secrets easily." Quaithe gestured around the chamber. "Asshai is old...much older than Valyria. The answers you seek are here, scattered in the libraries, buried in the ruins, hidden in the hearts of those who practice the arts you fear." Her eyes moved from Daenerys to Joffrey for a moment, then back. "Even your children come from this place. The first eggs were found in the Shadow Lands, in the mountains beyond the Ash River. This is the source. This is their beginning."
Daenerys's jaw tightened. "I want a clear answer."
"Then you must seek it for yourself." Quaithe turned to face Joffrey and continue to speak, not allowing Daenerys to get another question in. "And you, Prince. You have caused quite a stir since your arrival...perhaps even before that."
Joffrey raised an eyebrow. "Have I?"
"Shadowbinders and warlocks sense your power. Even the pyromancers and necromancers have taken notice." Quaithe stepped closer, her masked face tilting as if studying him. "They are wary of you...of what you can do. Some are afraid, while others are merely curious. You do not belong here, and yet you do. The shadows recognize something in you."
"Like what?"
"I do not have all the answers. But be wary of their attention..and of their intentions."
Joffrey's expression did not change. "I will try to keep that in mind."
Quaithe nodded slowly. "There are those who will do more than watch, of course. The warlocks of Asshai are kin to those you killed in Qarth. The House of the Undying was not the only sanctuary of their kind. Those here are more powerful. And they do not forgive insults to their brothers."
"The warlocks." Daenerys spat the word. "If they come for us again after trying to steal my dragons...let them try." She hissed.
Quaithe inclined her head. "You have fire in you, Princess. That is good. Fire is the enemy of shadows." She gestured to the tower around them. "This place belonged to my old master. He was a shadowbinder of great power, but he is gone now. The tower has stood empty for decades. There is a laboratory at the top, intact and well-stocked. The other floors can be used as living space. You will be safer here than in that inn near the harbor."
Joffrey studied the walls; the glyphs, the cold blue flames. Something about this tower felt familiar. The same ancient stone, the same heavy silence, the same thrum of old magic. It reminded him of the black tower in Valyria, the one where he had found Kaerion's diary.
"This tower," he said. "Who built it?"
"No one knows. It has stood here since before Asshai was Asshai. The stone is older than our memories, and the glyphs are older than our language." Quaithe spread her bandaged hands. "But it will serve your purposes, as it has served many others before you. In the laboratory, you will find everything you need for your experiments."
Joffrey nodded slowly. He did not question how she knew about his work. "We will take it."
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
Quaithe departed shortly after, slipping into the shadows without another word, leaving them alone in the cold blue light of the tower.
Daenerys turned to Joffrey, her expression tight with frustration. "She did not answer any of my questions."
"You should not expect much from her kind. That is how seers are. They see things, but even they do not always understand their visions. So they speak in riddles."
Daenerys frowned. "That is—"
"But her advice was still valid. If you wish to gain knowledge, seek it yourself. Draw your own conclusions, instead of being influenced by the opinions of others."
He turned and climbed the stairs, finding the laboratory at the top of the tower.
It was a large chamber with a high ceiling, its walls lined with shelves.
Tables of polished obsidian stood at the center, their surfaces cluttered with instruments: alembics and retorts, crystal vials and golden calipers. He recognized most of them, but some were strange, their purposes unknown.
The air was cool and dry, and the cold blue flames offered just enough light to work.
'It is like Kaerion's laboratory,' he thought. 'But much older.'
He set down the bag of materials he had purchased. The shade of the evening, the dragonglass powder, the tears of the Fourteen, and arranged them on the obsidian table with care.
"This will do for now," he said to himself.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
He barely had time to organize his work before he felt it...there was a presence outside the tower, lurking in the shadows. His magical senses, honed over centuries, could feel the cold malevolence aimed at him.
He rushed down the stairs. "Stay inside," he commanded. "No one follows."
He went through the main chamber and out into the small garden surrounding the tower.
A bolt of shadow came flying at his face.
He moved without thinking, his hand rising, magic bursting from his palm. A shield of pale blue energy deflected the shadow bolt into the black stone wall, where it dissolved with a hiss.
Two figures emerged from the darkness. They wore black robes, their faces hidden behind white masks. They pointed staffs of animal bone at him, and shadows gathered around them...taking shape, reaching for him with translucent claws.
Joffrey did not hesitate.
"Incendio. "
Fire erupted from his fingers, orange and red, bright and hungry. The flames caught the shadows, consumed them, and the warlocks stumbled back, screaming as the fire touched their robes.
Joffrey advanced, his eyes glowing. A flick of his wrist, and ropes of white light shot from his palm, wrapping around the two figures, restricting their movements.
"Depulso. "
The spell sent them crashing into a nearby wall. Before they could fall, his sword left its scabbard in a horizontal slash, taking both their heads.
Two headless bodies slid to the ground, motionless.
Joffrey stood over them, watching as his eyes returned to normal. The fight had been brief...too brief for a serious attempt on his life. "A message, then." He muttered to himself.
'A warning,' he thought. 'They want me to know they are coming.'
The others emerged from the tower. Daenerys clutched Drogon to her chest. Ser Jorah and the Hound had drawn their swords. Varys lingered near the archway until he was sure the danger had passed.
"Are those..." Daenerys began.
"Warlocks, I presume," Joffrey noted the strange foci they used. It was a short staff made of carved bone. "Primitive, but effective."
Varys knelt beside one of the fallen, examining their robes. "This emblem on their collars," he said, pointing to a symbol embroidered in dark thread. "It is similar to that worn by the Undying in Qarth."
"Quaithe mentioned the warlocks of Asshai are kin to those of Qarth," Daenerys said.
"We have made enemies in this city," the Hound growled.
"Dangerous ones," Ser Jorah added.
"They will come again, Prince Joffrey," Varys said. "And next time, there will be more."
"Let them come to us, then." Joffrey turned back to the tower. "We have work to do."
"What about these?" the Hound asked, gesturing at the corpses.
"Bury them."
The Hound growled but bent to the task.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
They spent the rest of the day securing the tower.
Joffrey walked the perimeter, placing magical wards...simple spells, enough to alert him if intruders approached and somehow managed to escape his senses.
The Hound and the Dothraki bloodriders fortified the lower levels, moving crates and barrels to make the entrance difficult to access.
Meanwhile, Varys and Ser Jorah were sent into the city with a different mission. It was time for the Lord of Whispers to earn his keep. He would need a new network of informants. It would not be easy, nor cheap, but necessary.
Joffrey would also need a way to find volunteers for his experiments.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
For two nights, all was calm.
On the third, the warlocks returned.
Joffrey was in the laboratory, cataloging materials and tools, when he felt the wards shudder. Something was trying to enter the tower...something that was not quite human.
He descended the stairs to find the main chamber filled with shadows.
They were not ordinary shadows. They had humanoid shapes, their bodies translucent, their claws extended. They moved with purpose, hunting.
The Hound swung his greatsword through one...and the blade passed through without resistance. The enchantments on the steel were meant for sharpness and durability, not for fighting incorporeal foes.
"Sandor, get away from them!" Joffrey shouted.
Around him, others rushed down the stairs...Daenerys, her bloodriders, and Ser Jorah. The shadows pressed closer to them.
Joffrey raised his hand and aimed at the shadow approaching the Hound from behind. Pale light formed at his palm.
I will have to use that, he thought.
"Expecto Patronum! "
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