They left before the city had fully woken.
The traders in the market were only beginning to set up their stalls, retying the awnings they had taken down during the night back over wooden frames, and slowly arranging their wares under the pre-dawn light.
The great market that had constantly roared and hollered the previous day was now merely being loud, which passed for quiet for Volantis' standard.
Their party moved through it in a close group — with Jory and three guards at the front, the girls, Catelyn, and her maid and nanny in the middle and finally Merchant Sam and Eddard in the back, along with a few other guards.
Their pace was brisk and purposeful, with the appearance of people who wanted to reach their destination urgently.
It was about ten minutes after their departure that Eddard finally confirmed that the faint suspicion he had was not just plain paranoia, so he fell back in step with Merchant Sam and quietly whispered to him without turning his head, "We are being followed. At least four men that I could make. Dirty brown garbs. They have been matching our pace since we left the Inn."
Merchant Sam did not look back, nor did he change his expression. In fact, even his pace remained the same, completely acting as if the information was not a surprise to him... which turned out to be true.
"I know about it, My Lord" he whispered back with a calm look on his face, "Jon told me about them last night and they have not just started following us, they have been keeping a lookout outside our Inn since the previous evening," he revealed the information without a change in his emotion, "Jon did not want you worry too much so he told me not to tell you," he said in an apologetic voice.
Eddard raised a surprised eyebrow at that, looking very taken aback by this, but since Sam offered no further elaboration, he just nodded his head and let it be... as there were few out there he trusted more than his son.
Besides, they were already surrounded by their guards, and on the way towards their ships to leave the city, so there was not much that could be done to make them safer... 'So better to leave it all in Jon's hand,'
Walking in front of him, the mood around the girls was drastically different from the bright curiosity they had held in their eyes when they had arrived at the port.
Yesterday, Arya had been leading from the front, with her head turning at every new sight, pointing and exclaiming, and darting towards whatever smell, sound or colour that caught her attention.
And Sansa had moved with that careful, bright-eyed wonder that she barely managed to rein in, as if she thought it too unbecoming to look too delighted, but still unable to fully suppress her amazement with everything beautiful.
Finally, Daenerys, who had seen just a little more of Essos than either of them, was still very fascinated with the different people, languages, food and cultures that she got to witness first-hand after only reading about them in books.
But now, the three of them walked close together without speaking much, and their eyes moved across the city in a different way entirely.
The market was still the same, the colours still very bright, and the countless pieces of clothing and jewellery were still being shown prominently on the stalls they came across... but their vision was no longer clouded now, and their eyes instinctively reached for the scenes they had subconsciously glanced over yesterday.
Men with chains around their legs pulling carts that had been stuffed to carry as much weight as possible, women with collars around their necks, cleaning the streets, never daring to raise their heads up, as if the instinct of looking down had been inherited from their ancestors.
And then there was the constant presence of a guard with a whip standing nearby, always watching vigilantly, making sure to remind the slaves that punishment was not far if they did not work with all their might.
All the masters here seem to have collectively decided that it was better for their business if they pushed their slaves to the very absolute limit that their bodies could bear, and squeezed as much work out of them as possible.
After all, if one unfortunately died mid-way through, then they could just replace it with a new, younger one and then start the cycle again. It was much easier than feeding them well or giving them proper rest.
'At least at home, a man could just pack up and leave if he didn't like his Lord,' came the unbidden thought in Eddard's head.
He knew that the life of smallfolks in the North, or even the whole of Westeros, was not an easy one.
They could always go hungry, cold, and their families could very well get crushed by a bad harvest or the casual cruelty of their lord.
He had no illusions about this.
But at least there was no one out there holding them down in chains, stopping them from running away to a better place.
But here, that option did not even exist.
The wealth of the masters, their unity, and the reach of their men were so formidable that it was almost impossible for a slave to run away.
And that fact had already been drilled into the minds of every single slave here, using the lives of countless unruly slaves who had dared to dream of freedom.
So they have long stopped trying by now, and have accepted that they shall remain bound until they die, and that their sons and daughters will follow them in their steps.
It was their fate...
The hour it took them to reach the docks felt excruciatingly long to all of them.
And the sight of their ships exactly where they had left them, rocking gently in the pale morning light, brought all of them a sense of relief they never thought possible from a simple vessel.
Their luggage had already been sent ahead of them, and most of the sailors on the ships had not even left the port area, so there was nothing for them to do but walk up the gangplank, which they immediately did.
And the moment the last of the guards had stepped abroad, the sailors wasted no time in pulling the plank up, and began to grind the anchor chain as their ship slowly nosed away from the dock, and into the mouth of the harbour.
The tenseness in the shoulders of the Stark party loosened simultaneously, as the frown on their faces relaxed, and the maids, the guards, the servants, and the sailors all began talking to each other as if an imaginary ban on speaking had been lifted.
"So, where do you think we will head to next?" Sansa asked as she turned her face into the harbour breeze and slightly closed her eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet.
"Not any further east, I would presume," Daenerys answered with a wry smile on her face, and Sansa nodded her head in comprehension.
After all, they had already been given such a shock in Volantis, and the cities east of here, especially the ones in and around the Slavers' Bay, would probably make this one look tame in comparison, and she did not think any of them wanted to experience what that would feel like.
"But we have already travelled the triarch of Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr," Sansa countered with a thoughtful look on her face, "So perhaps, Pentos then."
'Definitely not that,' Daenerys internally snorted at that, as she did not believe Jon, who was nominally the one in charge of their trip's schedule and their itinerary, would send their party to that city.
Because the fat Magister was still out there alive in his mansion, sending guards out to search for her, which means that it would be mightily stupid for her to even think of setting foot in that place.
"I think the famous cities of Westeros would be a good choice after all this," Daenerys said with a look of anticipation on her face, as her heart had yearned for her birth continent ever since she had learned about it, and now that she finally had the chance... she could not wait to go home.
"Hmm, that could be possible," Sansa mused with a finger on her chin, "After all, father did say that we would visit the big cities such as Old Town, Lannisport, and the other on our route back if we have the time."
"Oh, that would be so wonderful, right?" Daenerys said with an excited gleam in her eyes, "I have always wanted to see the Citadel with all its books full of history, and walk along the river Mander and visit..."
As the girls were speaking excitedly in hushed voices about their next destination, Arya was back in her room with her mother, gleefully forcing her fancy dresses on the young new friend she had stolen from that Volantese Master.
While on the deck, Eddard, after seeing that they were safely out of harbour, finally asked Merchant Sam the question he had been suppressing until now.
"Who did those lookouts belong to?" he asked quietly with a frown. "The shopkeeper?"
He could only think of him as he was the only one with whom they had a direct conflict during the short time they had been in the city.
"You assume correctly, My lord," Merchant Sam answered with a nod, "It seems I was wrong in my assumption that the man would not be idiotic enough to bother us after hearing me mention Master Qhoro's to his face... Alas, it seems I still underestimated the folly and greed of a wealthy noble like him who has too much time and little to no responsibility on his hands."
"But I still do not understand the point of sending those men to watch us?" he asked as he ignored the rant about idle nobles and instead focused on the main thing which had been bothering him.
All the way here, Eddard had been expecting them to obstruct them, to stall them somehow to perhaps make things difficult for them with dubious paperwork at the port or something, but no, until the very end there had been no reaction from them at all, as if they had only been there to make sure that we left the city of Volantis, which did not make sense.
"I would not dare to know the exact thoughts of a reckless man like him," Merchant Sam replied with a shrug, "But I would guess even in his foolhardiness, he must have known that it would be stupid for him to lay his hands on us in the city... after all, he knows now that we are not without our backing."
"Then why the lookout—Wait! Don't tell me?" Eddard softly exclaimed as his eyes narrowed in suspicion and he looked away from the direction of Volantis that had just disappeared on the horizon, towards the open, empty ocean in front of them, "...We are not out of the danger yet, are we?"
"Unfortunately, that is what I suspect," Merchant Sam said with a helpless smile, "But perhaps this is just our imagination, and paranoia, and in reality we will easily clear the seas with no danger at all..."
Sadly, the fortunate scenario he spoke of did not happen at all, and just a few hours after leaving the port of Volantis, a fleet of a dozen pirate ships suddenly appeared on the horizon, closing in on them from three directions as if they had been waiting for them, with their intent as clear as the blue sky over their head.
...