15

I stood in the center of the crowd, holding my newest creation. All around me men and woman dressed outrageously, with masks covering their faces, danced. This was the one week where the staid and conservative of Braavos collectively let their hair down and they were enjoying every minute of it. A few had noticed me, standing still in the center of the whirling motion, but most had eyes only for their partners. That would be changing soon.

I had spent a lot of the time I should have worked on my projects over the past two months playing with illusions. I taught Maggie a little as I went, but she shared my lack of finesse and had difficulty with them. Since she wouldn't be able to help directly with the magic, she decided to let me let her plan what would be shown, our whole attendance at the party was for her so I gave her command. With the show planned, a month's practice on one specific illusion let me create something far grander and more vibrant than my normal limits. I wasn't any better at quick and spontaneous deceptions, a month of effort wouldn't erase years of neglect, but this one would be good.

I held my newest focus, an enormous fake diamond of glass, into the air so it caught the lamplight and around me people were beginning to notice the disturbance. I pushed my will into it, sending out a pulse of pure white light that forced those looking directly at it to shield their eyes and almost everyone to blink to recover.

When their eyes opened, the roof was gone, stars more vibrant than anything visible here or on earth shone down on the hall, filling the room with an eerie light. There were galaxies, nebulas, lone stars and bright comets, all moving just above the heads of the crowd. The music had stopped, no one was doing anything but staring up. I turned to look for Maggie in the crowd, the joy on her face convinced me that all the effort was worth it.

I wasn't quite done with the show yet, even though I felt that my effort already surpassed the jugglers, sword swallowers and fire dancers. Out of respect for my father I didn't judge the stage magicians. With a twist of my hand the stars fled into the now apparently infinite sky, a knight, who I unrepentantly copied from Michael down to the red cross and white mantle, rose up before us. A roar shook the room and I threw illusory fire amongst the crowd to scattered screams that stopped when they realized they weren't burning. I had never seen a dragon in its scaly flesh back in our world, and Michael, as irritatingly modest as ever, never spoke in detail about his slaying of Siriothrax. The monster I summoned, modeled on the Voyagers' skeleton, might not have had the same power or purpose as those back home, but sixty feet of armored flesh and fire was enough to intimidate anyone. It circled the room once, breathing fire and roaring again, before homing in on Sir Totally-Not-Michael. It crashed to the ground amid more screams, the drunker here hadn't realized it wasn't real, and roared again. I had thought that one or two roars would be enough, but Maggie was a member of the Michael Bay school and insisted. It breathed fire at the knight, who caught it on his shield in a completely realistic, and definitely allowing for convection sort of way, before lunging and snapping at him. The knight dodged and seized a hold of a spine on its neck and was carried up as the dragon reared, getting in a blow before being flung to the floor. Lurching up, in a punch drunk manner I was far too familiar with, he readied his sword as the dragon stuck again. This time the sword found its mark through the roof of the dragon's mouth and it pulled back, wings beating as it thrashed, screamed and rolled. The crowd was cheering now, and with a final gesture I had the dragon's body explode in flame, washing over the entire hall. When they dissipated I had staggered halfway to the wall, illusions were easier than reality of course but that had been the largest, longest and most involved one I'd ever done.

I almost made it to a table, and a dignified collapse, when Maggie smashed into me. I lurched, but somehow managed to walk with one leg dragging an overjoyed eleven year old. "Everything you hoped for?" I said as I finally managed to sit down and accepted a glass of wine. The grin on her face told me all I needed.

Johannes swung by to congratulate me and I was forced to dance a few times with the unmarried brigade, Ebenezer's lessons were still more useful than I'd imagined when spinning around a nursing home with near geriatrics. All told it was far better than my last costume party, I had never told Maggie that story of her mother, and I wasn't sure I ever would. I didn't let that night overshadow this one and was enjoying myself, naturally that was when a kid with white blond hair and a dragon mask came and started to rant at me.

I put up with it for about thirty seconds before I interrupted. "Kid, just because you're in love with dragons doesn't mean you get to complain about the show. Besides how do you even know it was mine?"

He scoffed. "Please, how many freakishly tall wizards can there be in one city, I remember you Harry Dresden. And I'm not in love with dragons, I am a dragon."

I gave him a slow once over, for long enough that he'd notice. "Hair, no fangs, no scales, no claws, no wings; I'm not really seeing it."

He stamped and I mentally dropped his age a few years, "I am Viserys Targaryen, rightful king of Westeros, and I will have my respect!"

"Wait,Viserys?" I reached over and pulled up his mask, sure enough it was the same boy I'd found and rescued. I lowered the mask back down and took half a step back. "No wonder Martell was so entertained that I didn't know who you were."

"Prince Martell, you know him?" His face lit up at the name.

"We met once or twice, he said you were distant family."

"Indeed, and with his, our, family's help we will"-

An older man who's only concession to the occasion was a bright toucanish bird mask interrupted "We will stop bothering the wizard. Thank you for speaking with Viserys Dresden, I think I speak for the crowd when I say we enjoyed your sorcery." he took a firm grasp on Viserys's shoulder and steered him back into the crowd.

Well that was a thing. I turned to Maggie who had returned from her mingling. "How does it feel to have hosted royalty, should we try to sell our stories to the tabloids?"

Maggie considered it "I thought a king would be taller." She paused for a minute before going on. "Besides, Aemma said he was a terrible dancer."

"That's why we hold elections in America, we can choose the taller and better dancers instead of leaving it up to genetics" She laughed and I grabbed her, taking her onto the dance floor as the music picked up.

Much later we left the ball and began to walk home. Our costumes attracted little interest on the streets, the bravos were nowhere near done with the evening and compared to them ours were extremely restrained. The Uncloaking was in full swing, music and lights spilled from every door. The ever present mist diffused the lights from colored lanterns, and pleasure barges drifted through the canals. It was magical in a way that all our power could not quite replicate.

The next morning was rough. I hadn't drank too much, but the late night, the power I'd used, and the alcohol all combined for an especially unpleasant wake up. I expected it to be a slow day, most of the city was hungover after all, and had planned to spend the day toying with my gong phone. I hadn't made much progress in being able to move them independently but they could now transmit sound. I didn't have a firm plan on how to solve their issues, so I had hoped that a day of experimenting would give me new ideas. Right after I finished breakfast and headed up to the lab the wards twinged, alerting me that someone was at the door. I looked at myself, mildly more presentable than the average Braavosi, at least this morning, and went down to answer it.

The man standing at the door was dressed entirely in black and reminded me of Hendricks for his sheer size. "The Sealord requests your presence."

I looked down at myself, the clothes I'd been fine with, weren't really what one wore to see a king. Of course I'd been less dressed for better so it wouldn't stop. I did want to get Maggie up though. "Dressed like this?"

Pseudo-Hendricks had been thinking the same based on his sneer. "Just hurry."

I closed the door in his face and turned towards the stairs. It looked like my flashy and attention grabbing magic had grabbed attention, fancy that. I burst into Maggie's room and was extremely satisfied to wake her for once. "Maggie, get up, come on." She eventually shifted, slowly blinking her way to full alertness. "I'm getting called to visit the Sealord, do you remember our plan?"

She looked blank for a moment then rallied. "Once you leave, raise the wards, if men come from him without you, or your password set the shield crystal in the front room, then take an escape potion to the safehouse and wait for a day."

"Great, I don't expect any trouble, but be careful. Stay inside until I come back." I was hoping I was being paranoid, that the plans for her safety would never be used but being called to the leader of the city was unusual enough that I wanted to make sure she was prepared. I threw on some nicer clothes and my new enchanted coat. I put on my shield bracelet and grabbed my taser chain and slide it into a pocket just in case. I didn't think they'd let anything obviously magical like my staff or rod in, but I felt those items would go under the radar without actively prejudicing him against me.

I went back down to the messenger and got into the boat he indicated. The rowers were quick and put up with the load of two large men without complaint and soon we arrived at the Sealord's palace. Walking up from a side entrance the halls were lined with portraits, previous rulers or perhaps just art I didn't know. Pseudo-Hendricks had a brisk stride until we reached a door which he entered leaving me outside. After a minute he opened it and beckoned me into the Sealord's office.

The Sealord was once a strong man, he sat tall even now and his shoulders were broad. He had Tregar's eyes and chin, but the similarities with his murdered younger brother stopped there. Tregar always had an air of restrained energy, as if any minute he could leap into action to fend off pirates, or escape a collapsing tomb. Ferrego Antaryon lacked that energy. His arms look shrunken, like the muscle had gone and the skin remained and his eyes were surrounded by deep wrinkles. He didn't look up when I entered, slowly dragging a quill across a page with a rasping sound leaving me standing awkwardly in front of his desk. Just watching him write left me feeling exhausted.

Just when I was wondering if he'd noticed me come in, he spoke. "I have heard many things about you Dresden, but after last night I felt that I should speak with you." He started to write again with his slow motions and I was beginning to wonder if he expected a reply. Whoever taught rhetoric in this world put far too much emphasis on glacial pacing. "What brings a sorcerer of such power to my city?"

"Shipwreck and misfortune initially, the friends I made kept me here though."

"Ah my brother's little club. Before that though, you spent your days tracking lost cargo, why did you spend years wandering amidst the dregs of my city?" The drone of his quill started again.

"I was searching for a return to my homeland and didn't want to grow attached before I realized the futility of my quest."

"There are other cities in the world, if none quite so fine as this, if you'll forgive my bias. In Qarth they venerate sorcerers, why stay in our damp city when you can have all the treasures of the East and West there?"

Saying that at first it was ignorance probably wouldn't be believed. "I may have washed ashore here but it has become my family's home. I have no desire to travel halfway across the world."

"You are a stranger to this part of the world I know. Have you ever wondered why Braavos lacks a group like the warlocks or the shadow-binders?" I shook my head. "I see, we do not have them, because we do not tolerate them. The Faceless men remove any threats to the city, and as is fitting for an order formed against the sorcerers of old Valyria they take a dim view of magic. For all the good you've done for the city, I'm told your compasses will change the world, you may have one year of grace. By the time the next Uncloaking ends, you will be gone or you will be dead."

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