The lower deck had lanterns swaying gently with the ship's roll. Daenerys moved quickly along the planks, she had changed into a loose white linen shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Beneath it, a sash bound her chest tightly. Her silver hair spilled freely past her shoulders, catching what little light there was. Slim black trousers hugged her legs, cinched by a brass-buckled belt above high brown reinforced boots.
She was looking for the ship's vault, Vakar was meant to be waiting for her there, but she'd never thought to ask where it was. Now she was wandering blind, the corridors all alike, the air heavy with damp wood and the muffled rhythm of waves.
Her boots carried her past storerooms and narrow ladders, her ears pricked for a familiar voice. Somewhere above, a rope snapped taut. Somewhere below, a thud echoed like a heartbeat. She turned down a side passage and opened a door, only to find herself staring into a hall packed with dark-skinned men, their bodies glistening with sweat. A man nearly as broad as Gums stood at the front, clearly in charge, his expression unwelcoming. The heat in the room seemed to press against her skin.
Daenerys closed the door without a word and kept walking...