Tyrion dutifully followed his new master away from the slave auctions. He glanced back at the platform but Ser Jorah was gone. His master had introduced himself a Yezzan zo Qaggaz. He was a trader who had purchased Tyrion on the recommendation of the captain of the slaver ship. He intended to give him to a friend as a wedding gift. What that meant, Tyrion had no idea, but he suspected or rather hoped that the "friend" might be Danerys' new husband.

At Yezzan's house, he was left in the care of two house slaves, who bathed and dressed him. When he was more presentable he was taken to Yezzan's chambers. Tyrion introduced himself as Yolo. He didn't want someone else recognising him and trying to sell him to Danerys or worse to Cersei. Best to remain incognito. Tyrion also hoped that by now on of Varys' people had spotted him at the auction or walking through the city with Yezzan and reported back to their employer.

"So Yolo tell me how does a dwarf such as yourself come to be so worldly?" Yezzan asked as Tyrion tucked into the food another slave had brought him.

"I travelled with a group of performers throughout most of Westeros." Tyrion lied.

"And how did you come to be in the possession of the good Captain?" Yezzan indicated for the slave girl to pour Tyrion a cup of wine.

"Well that is a long story." Tyrion gave Yezzan his most winning smile and was rewarded with an enthusiastic nod.

"My troupe and I performed at the wedding of King Joffrey Baratheon."

"Ah yes I have heard of the wedding and that his uncle poisoned the child." Yezzan nodded.

"Yes, his uncle, a most undesirable rogue, whom I have an unfortunate resemblance to."

"He is a little man also?"

"Yes a dwarf, and a dreadfully ugly one at that. You know they say he has no nose, cut off by a whore." Tyrion could see he had Yezzan hooked by his story.

"And what of you own face? A dalliance with a prostitute perhaps?" Yezzan raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Alas no." Tyrion shook his head. "I have not met many whores who would bed a dwarf. No. No. This handsome face you see before you is the result of a kick to the face from a horse."

"Yes not so pleasant a tale."

"Anyway, after the King was poisoned and his uncle the dwarf was arrested, it seemed everywhere I went someone would point me out and call for the Kings soldiers. Apparently all dwarves look the same and the scar well… So I decided to try my talents elsewhere for a time. I was sailing for Mereen when the Captain and his crew took our ship and here I am!"

While Tyrion was being pampered and enjoying his new master's wine, Jorah was still locked in the storehouse. He had sat fuming about his meeting with Hizdahr. He wracked his brain trying to work out exactly how he had convinced Danerys to marry him. Jorah knew little about the man, other than his father had been a Mereenese nobleman, so he could only guess that Hizdahr had offered to buy her ships or another army. He blamed himself, he could have talked her out of it.

He cursed Danerys' stubbornness. He had tried time and time again to convince her that she should keep moving, that the allies and men they needed to claim the Iron Throne were in Westeros, but she would not listen. She was convinced that she had free all the slaves in Essos, and to rule there. Jorah knew that if she dallied too long, she would never cross the Narrow Sea. She needed to focus on one goal but she had proved easily distracted.

To distract himself from these thoughts he tried to put his shirt back on properly. The chain tethering his shackles to his collar was too short to allow him to lift the shirt back over his head. After nearly half an hour of trying to contort his body into various positions and chaffing the skin from around his wrists and neck he gave up in frustration. He kicked out in anger, his boot stirring up a small cloud of dust. Jorah slumped back against the wall, cursing himself.

When he calmed down, he took stock of his situation. They slavers had taken his weapons and armour. The shackles and chains meant that his movements were extremely limited, so even if he got his hands on a weapon there wasn't much he'd be able to do with it. His only chance to would be to somehow get to speak to Danerys.

Leaning back against the cool stone wall he closed his eyes for a moment. He wondered what had become of Tyrion Lannister. He doubted Dany's soon to be husband would know who he was, not that it would matter much, given the perverse nature of the fighting pits, Tyrion would probably end up a lion feed in the arena! Anyway without his gift of the Lannister there was every possibility that even if he did survive the fighting tomorrow, he would never get to see or speak to his Queen again. Even though he wasn't a godly man, Jorah said a quick prayer that Tyrion would get to Danerys, she needed another ally in her camp, especially a clever on like the Imp.

Yezzan zo Qaggaz travelled by palanquin through the streets of Mereen, his new purchase sat on a pile of cushions opposite from him, looking with interest at the exotic sights that greeted them.

"Hidahr will be a good master. He has many slaves, and he treats them well. I am sure he will find your tales very interesting, and I he is an avid crevasse player. Do your best to please him and you will have a comfortable life." Yezzan told Tyrion.

Life? Tyrion didn't like that idea very much, but at the moment his options were limited. He had no idea what had happened to Ser Jorah, but he suspected his countryman would not be faring quite so well. Yezzan had mentioned that the fighting pits were being re-opened and there would be a grand display to celebrate the Queens marriage. If Jorah ended up there, Tyrion doubted his friend would survive to see his Queen again.