Legato

Neutral Good. powerful mage. SO INTO MUSIC. plays violin and piano and has an excellent singing voice. would like to someday learn how to play an ocarina. immensely amused by kazoos. sings spells to cast them. also enjoys dancing. travels around Sornieth every so often for singing and violin performances. currently performs at The Crispy Phoenix on occasion and sets up a Karaoke Challenge there for the last three days of each month.

loves dramatic storytelling and roleplaying. is 100% the person who will get the gang into Byzmara's version of D&D.

SPECIAL ID POWERS - sound-based. can control the volume and pitch of a sound/voice, make sounds audible/inaudible to specific people and set others on "mute," change the perceived "source" of a sound (ventriloquism effect), and can also "steal/record" sounds; once they're made, Legato can essentially pull the sound out of the air and turn it into a wisp of magic to be heard again later. (longer/louder sounds are bigger wisps, series of sounds (such as songs) would be larger Haunted Stone Orb-esque sorta things.) refuses to use his magic for his performances/karaoke however, and prefers to keep it a secret outside the ID crew so that no one can accuse him of "cheating" with his music.

Haunted Stone Orb

Trinkets

When touched, wisps of smoke begin to swim beneath the surface of this dark stone, becoming more tangible the longer you hold it. (KS-sponsored by Nick B.)

75

Inverse - 100% approves of his house and was awed by it when he first saw it. still enjoys it each time he comes over and has pestered Inverse a few times to let him into "game mode" just to see what happens. he constantly disagrees with Inverse over what their group's name should be, though, especially since the latter comes up with a different one every time it comes up. somewhat surprised that Inverse's comment about him having special powers actually turned out to be true.

Cerys - ???

Milano - ???

Nonpareil - best bros. they enjoy going out and experiencing the fun Byzmara has to offer, particularly (what amounts to) karaoke nights. sometimes ends with Nonpareil getting a bit too drunk and Legato (who doesn't drink) seeing him home safely.

Mei Lin - ???


The Crispy Phoenix hadn't been open long, and to drum up business, performers were hired to entertain the guests. Most of them were musicians who played stylish music for the diners. Until their shifts started, they could stay in the back of the establishment, chatting with the other employees or simply preparing themselves.

Legato thought he was very well-prepared. He was, in fact, starting to get bored. He'd arrived early and spent the past two hours reviewing his notes and practicing on his violin; he would've chatted up the staff, but they were preparing for the dinnertime peak hours. Most of them would be in the kitchens or waiting tables.

So it was a surprise when the restaurant owner himself barged in. Legato backed into a corner to make room for Melqart. "Is something wrong?"

Melqart's smile was strained but genuine. "I wouldn't say that... Well, I think I shouldn't. We've got customers, Legato."

"Oh. Well, don't we always?"

"Nothing like this. We've got like a whole village of them! It's a rich, fancy drake traveling with his servants, and apparently they're stopping here for dinner." Melqart looked both elated and terrified. Legato saw now that he was holding a communication device, obviously about to call for reinforcements...

The Guardian paused. "Come to think of it, they're not from around here. They're from the same place you are, Byzmara. Maybe you've heard of this guy? His name's..."

---

"Lord Sevetrin, the Crispy Phoenix is in sight."

"Excellent, then they should be aware of our arrival as well." Sevetrin settled back in his carriage. The Dreadrams drawing it strode steadily on, followed by the rest of the entourage, servants in their own carts and guards keeping everything in line.

"All this palaver just to get a meal. Have we really sunk so low, Sevetrin?" Valencia turned towards him. Her expression was mournful, but mischief sparkled in her eyes. "Must we put on such an extravagant performance for the sake of our dinner?"

Sevetrin raised an eyeridge. "The Crispy Phoenix is unusual in that it places much stock in its performers. Not just musicians, but more uncommon acts such as creature exhibits and miniature stage plays. As we know, talent can be found in the most unexpected places... I can scout unobtrusively or send someone else to do it, but I prefer to see how any would-be business partners of ours would deal with extreme pressure. After all, ours is not a lifestyle that allows for anything less than 'excellent', even where leisure is concerned."

"Well said," Valencia murmured. Truth be told, she fully understood why they were here — she had scouted for talent herself. But it was an awful lot of fun to hear Sevetrin say "the Crispy Phoenix" over and over again. How often did he have a reason to say something as silly as that?

---

"Oh gods, why did I name this place ‘Crispy Phoenix’? They're probably just coming here to laugh at me!" Melqart huddled by the back doors, cringing and worrying. Legato was almost afraid to approach him; he was twisting his long mane in anxiety, and the Bogsneak had a brief vision of being seized by him and squeezed like a stress ball.

The doors banged open, admitting a small horde of dragons. "‘Sup, Quarty? You said you needed help?" asked the Guardian in the lead. Legato recognized her; she performed here sometimes... sort of. She actually just spewed swear words for four hours straight, but an enchantment cast upon her made it so that all anybody ever heard was music so gorgeous it made them weep. She didn't perform so much now because some of the more sensitive patrons tended to cry into their drinks when they heard her; Legato had to admit that it was very good music.

Melqart perked up. "You're all here! Thank you, thank you so much for coming! I know it's on short notice, but..."

While he was briefing the backup crew (actually just clanmates who'd been dragged over from the main lair), Legato peered out through the doors. He could see the gaggle of customers approaching from the west, almost like an encroaching tide.

"Damn, they're loaded." Legato jumped — one of the Imperials had snuck up behind him to peer through the doors. Laurant the swear-singing Guardian dragged him back by the tail. "Faust, c'mon. Put a uniform on."

"And wait tables? Me? Are you insane?!"

"Your only other option is to cook, and we've seen what you do with fire, thanks very much. No, just stand out there and look handsome."

"Legato..." This time, the restaurateur spoke directly to him. "We're counting on you too. You're the only performer we've got tonight. Now's your chance to shine."

"I'll do my best, sir." — because really, what else could he say or do? Lord Sevetrin — everyone in Byzmara knew that name. Legato was beginning to understand where Melqart was coming from, elation and terror all rolled up in one. Elation because really, how often did someone get an opportunity to impress a House Head? — And terror, because what if they all blew this chance?

---

"It's a family restaurant, sir. I had expected fine dining," Baine admitted. He was trying to ignore the admiring gazes of many young dragons, not to mention some hatchlings who wanted to see if his weapons were real. "Should we try elsewhere?"

Before Sevetrin could reply, a pale Pearlcatcher bustled forward, sending the youngsters scurrying. The sash across her front identified her as the maitre d'. She stopped before Sevetrin's carriage and greeted him, "Welcome to the Crispy Phoenix! Happy to serve and entertain you — I am Celandine, the Head Waiter. Will you be dining with us tonight?"

As Baine stepped back, the House Head addressed the maitre d' directly: "I am Sevetrin, Lord of the House of Delights. My entourage and I were passing through the region and decided it was time for supper. This establishment seems very promising..."

"Certainly." Celandine eyed the train of servants stretching seemingly into the horizon. Her tail twitched slightly. "Booth for how many, sir...?"

Sevetrin had to hand it to her; except for the twitch, the maitre d' remained perfectly calm. "There are about threescore of us," he said, indicating the caravan. When Celandine didn't wince, he continued more warmly, "We of course understand if you cannot accommodate all of us in a single booth. I note that there are vacancies both indoors and outdoors — we would not be inconvenienced if you decided to split our party."

"That can be arranged," Celandine said, and now she broke into a smile. She clapped her paws, summoning waiters to assist with the arrangements. "Now, including you, sir, how many will be seated at your booth?"

"Just the three of us." He indicated Valencia and Baine. "We've heard that you offer live entertainment... Would one of the booths near the stage be available?"

"Certainly." And Celandine swept inside, guiding Sevetrin and his two companions towards the stage. "We have hired a musician from Byzmara to entertain our guests tonight."

"From Byzmara? That's a strange coincidence," Baine muttered. Valencia, meanwhile, had flitted away, ostensibly to help the waiters seat the rest of their group.

"Perhaps." Celandine sounded skeptical. "He has been a regular performer here since the restaurant's opening. The show should start in an hour or so. Here is your booth, sirs and lady. Faustino will take your orders for now. Please excuse me..."

The waiter standing nearby was a grumpy-looking Imperial in a sharp, dark uniform. He assessed Sevetrin's group with a single glance and then lowered a trio of cushions, suitable for their sizes, into place. Sevetrin and Baine were just getting seated when Valencia reappeared. She flashed an outrageous grin at the Imperial (he didn't seem impressed) and slid into place between her two companions. "I've had a look at the menu. It's absolutely spiffing!"

"It is?" Baine asked, just as the Imperial delicately lowered a copy before him. He stared at it for a few moments in silence. As for Valencia, her eyes lit up like candles, and she stabbed at the drinks menu. "‘Full Charge’ — that sounds fun!"

"You'll have to sign a waiver," Faustino droned, in a voice that to Baine sounded like the crack of doom. The guard quickly interjected, "No, she'll try something else."

"Baine, don't be such a stick-in-the-mud—"

Meanwhile, Sevetrin was observing the restaurant. His entourage had been separated among several different tables, with the majority waiting to be seated outside. A golden Guardian was directing other staff to stretch an awning over them. Celandine was standing by the employee doors, keeping an eye on things as the waiters rushed to and fro.

"Waiter, which of your seafood dishes would you recommend?"

The Imperial's ears waved slowly. Although Sevetrin couldn't sense any special magic within him, it seemed almost possible to hear him thinking. Sevetrin, for his part, could now see the strings that bound each dragon's luck. This one had an average number of them, but they were thick and bright — so his luck, while not noticeably frequent, was true.

"Our bestseller is the Sizzling Marlin Steak, sir. For something more exotic, you might try the Wavecrest Platter."

"Hmm. Let's go with the Sizzling Marlin Steak for now."

Baine hemmed and hawed some minutes longer, with Valencia needling him all the while. ("You say I should have 'just tea'?! Hmph — waiter, my friend will have one of those Cloud Shakes; he will like it, yes indeed!") Faustino gravely took down their orders and then stalked back to the kitchen. As he did, the doors swung open to admit a Guardian bearing a large platter, and he almost crashed into her.

"Watch it!" he snapped in what could only be described as a whisper-scream. The Guardian snarled back through her smile, "No, you watch it!" and then they stepped around each other and he disappeared through the doors.

"Huh! Could've been a nasty accident there," Baine commented. Sevetrin smiled, but didn't comment. He continued looking around, his claws moving slightly...

There was a gasp from a nearby table: a yellow Tundra had accidentally knocked over a glass. She hurriedly mopped up the mess. For a moment, she looked stumped — and then her training kicked in. "Not to worry, ma'am, I'll get you more punch. This one's on us!"

Outside, a gust of wind slapped the awning into a staffer's face, spearing it on the Ridgeback's snout. The golden Guardian stared at him for a moment before saying, a tad hysterically, "Oh, just put sealing wax on it, Dras. Don't worry, ladies and gents; we'll seat you at the other end." To his assembled staff, he said, "Help me move these booths over there..."

The Coatl smiled to see this. His claws finally stilled. After some minutes, the awning was successfully set up. All the Byzmarans found seats just as their orders, including that of Sevetrin's group, began to arrive.

"Your steak, sir," rumbled the great Imperial. Baine was looking optimistically at his own food, a platter of deep-fried polecats with sweet-and-sour dip. Valencia's order, meanwhile, consisted of plant pods on a hot plate, set above a small pot filled with smoldering coals. "Careful. It's very hot," the waiter said, rather unnecessarily. The pods were already beginning to bloom, revealing fiery orange blossoms.

Valencia dug in right away. "This is gooood," she crooned around a leafy mouthful, "but not for the faint of heart!" She winked impishly at Baine. The guard didn't rise to the bait; he simply started sipping his milkshake.

Sevetrin delicately cut away part of the steak and raised it to his mouth. His companions watched out of the corners of their eyes. The waiter remained impassive, but Baine and Valencia could sense the anxiety rippling from him...

"Ah... This is exquisite!"

"You think so?" Faustino seemed about to say. He covered it up by dipping his head in a quick bow. "Much appreciated, sir. I will convey your compliments to our chefs."

"Same here. This is good stuff!" Baine waved a half-bitten rollcat in the air. Valencia's huge grin was testimony enough from her.

"You have a lot of talented dragons working in that kitchen," Sevetrin remarked. He remained tranquil, but was starting to eat with gusto now. And their waiter was also beginning to relax. "Thank you for your kind words. We are very happy to hear them."

Another waitress ascended the stage: a tiny Fae, her scarf neatly tucked beneath her shirt. "Thanks for dining at the Crispy Phoenix!" she said to the entire restaurant. "Tonight's live performance will begin shortly. For visitors who wish to dine in silence, sound-dampening spells are available..."

"We will forgo the sound-dampeners, thank you," Sevetrin said to the waiter. The performer was already standing behind the stage, and the House Head examined him closely. At first, Sevetrin saw only the usual strands of luck... and then something else. A faint distortion that was almost painful to look at, not because it hurt the eyes, but because it baffled the mind. It distorted the world much like the magic's owner did...

"I've seen that before — surrounding the peculiar individual known as 'Inverse'. Baine was right. It is a strange coincidence.

"Or perhaps... it isn't...?"

---

It was Lord Sevetrin, right enough — Legato had heard enough stories about him to be sure. As Calliope explained how to activate the sound dampeners, Legato slithered onto the stage to check his own ambient spells. Nothing fancy, just cosmetic lighting and some acoustic enhancers. He really wished he'd had advance warning of Sevetrin's arrival — the rest of the staff had expressed similar sentiments.

"We'll just have to do things as usual." — although frankly, Legato thought his "usual" was already very good. He was proud of the fact that his shows never called for many sound dampeners. He even had some fans, familiar faces who returned to the restaurant when they knew he'd be performing.

One of the "fans" was very familiar to him: Nonpareil had arrived from Byzmara to support him. Their work schedules didn't coincide tonight, so he was here as a customer, not a confectioner. The Skydancer was looking around uneasily, eyeing Sevetrin's servants, before he caught his friend's eye and waved.

The sound dampeners (only three tonight, not bad when the place was overflowing!) were activated, and Calliope fluttered away. Legato settled onto his lounge, his violin already in his grasp.

Life as a Crispy Phoenix musician wasn't too hard. Legato entertained the guests for three hours until closing time, with short breaks every thirty minutes. He'd been making efforts to learn songs from Sornieth’s other regions. Tonight, he kicked off with a popular Sunbeam Ruins song. After that, he'd try a peppier tune from the Starfall Isles. And after that...

The rest of Legato's shift passed quickly. He usually got lost in the music, and if he wasn't careful, the customers' quiet murmurs could lull him — as was happening now. It was time to wrap up with something livelier... Many of the guests perked up when he launched into his last song: It was a popular ballad from Byzmara.

"I see a lot of you know this tune. Very popular elsewhere, aye?"

"Ayeeee!" the Byzmarans replied. Many of them raised their glasses in approval.

"Then sing with me if you wish! If anyone thinks they can do better," and Legato winked, "you're welcome to return at the end of the month for my Karaoke Challenge. Fliers are available beside the doors; feel free to grab some on your way out. I'll see you here — but first, let me hear what you've got!"

Closing time was normally a quiet affair, with the waiters beginning to tidy up and the customers settling their bills. It became lively, though, as the Byzmarans joined Legato in his song. The violinist was standing now, his bow swooping across the strings. He noticed Sevetrin speaking to a different waiter; the orange Wildclaw's eyes went wide, and he grinned brightly before pattering back to his boss. It didn't seem like the night would end in disaster, and a lot of the tension left Legato at last.

Most of the customers were applauding even before he finished. As the song ended, the restaurant broke into applause, with some dragons bellowing "Bravo! Encore!" Legato bowed, feeling like a king before his adoring subjects.

He straightened up, and then Melqart was there. The restaurateur began, "Excuse me, everyone..."

The crowd quieted down. Melqart looked around the room before announcing, "I'm sure you've all noticed our eminent guest. Lord Sevetrin of the House of Delights would like to thank you all for being such pleasant and understanding dining companions. In appreciation, he will be footing the bills of tonight's customers, including those who are not with his party."

His announcement was greeted with stunned silence. And then the restaurant burst into great cheers and roars of gratitude. Some of the nearer dragons stood up to thank Sevetrin, and Legato, meanwhile, absconded to the performers' room for some much-needed rest.

---

It was normal for Nonpareil to congratulate Legato after each performance, so when Legato heard the knock on the door, he automatically answered, "Come in."

Someone wanted to congratulate him, all right, but it wasn't Nonpareil. Legato stared dumbly as Sevetrin entered the room. His guard was with him, and Melqart was saying something that the Bogsneak couldn't seem to grasp... Legato heard himself answering, "Yes, thank you," and then the door swung shut.

"So. Umm..." Legato suddenly realized how loud his voice was. His fins quivered as he looked around the room.

"Please calm yourself, Mister... Legato, is it? That is a very apt name." And Sevetrin laughed quietly. "First off, congratulations on a virtuoso performance. I've had the pleasure of working with many talented beings and I believe that you, my friend, rank right up there with them. Bravo."

"Y-You really mean it?" Legato blurted. "Um, what I mean is, I didn't mean to imply that you were, uh, mistaken... I mean..."

The guard chuckled to himself, and Sevetrin smiled indulgently. "Fear not, I understand what you mean. Nonetheless, the hour is late and we're all quite tired... I shall cut to the chase.

"I am always on the lookout for performers to join my House, Legato. You have a great deal of talent, and it would not be misplaced if you deigned to perform before the elite of Byzmara. I can think of several of my peers who'd enjoy listening to songs such as the ones you played today.

"But I understand if you're hesitant. A change in employment should never be taken lightly. I am a patient dragon, so please do not feel pressured to quickly respond... Let me give you this to help you think things over."

From among the folds of his robes, the Coatl produced a crisp envelope. Iridescent blue and gold, with a bright seal emblazoned with the House of Delights' sigil. Legato took it cautiously; it was such a delicate, beautiful object, he feared it'd shatter in his grasp.

"A standing invitation," Sevetrin said, "for you to join my House's performance troupe. You are welcome anytime — Baine here will ensure that you're allowed entrance."

It was all so... polished and proper... Legato could only bow. He wanted to say something stunningly eloquent, but his tongue felt like rubber, so he could only mumble a generic, "Thank you for this great opportunity, sir."

"Thank you for an entertaining performance. Enjoy the rest of your night, Legato." And Sevetrin left the room, his guard close behind him. Legato looked warily down at the invitation. He somehow doubted that Sevetrin had told Melqart the real reason for speaking with him, and he couldn't help feeling bad about that. Still, it was a very enticing offer. Later he would open the invitation and have a look at it...

---

Nonpareil stared at him in exasperation. "So why didn't you say 'yes'?!"

"Well..." Legato trailed off. The confectioner groaned and rolled his eyes.

They were back in Byzmara, and they'd come to Inverse's house on one of those rare days when the rest of their friends weren't around. Though Inverse himself was present: Sevetrin's invitation had also piqued his interest. Legato knew he'd been trying to get Sevetrin to join their group for some time.

"But it's just..."

"What?" Nonpareil asked. Inverse was uncharacteristically quiet, marching up and down the walls like a clockwork gecko. He pattered past a window, and the glass fizzed like static, the scenery outside dissolving into bouncing globs of light.

Legato couldn't really pinpoint the reason for his own hesitation. He had a strong feeling Melqart would be very understanding — and Sevetrin's job offer had mentioned a flexible schedule, so he could probably still return to the restaurant in between gigs. He didn't doubt that he'd be given exemplary board and lodging, to say nothing of the salary and benefits. In fact, Sevetrin's offer trumped everything Melqart could ever afford.

"I don't like it either. That Sevetrin, he's a tricky one." Inverse moseyed over and sat down on the air beside Legato's head. He stroked his chin as bubbles floated out of his ears. "He keeps trying to talk to me. We'll be chatting about the weather, and then he'll throw me a curveball question. Hah!" The Tundra rocketed upwards and was briefly lost in the shadows above. "Silly Sevetrin. I am the curveball!"

Nonpareil threw up his forepaws. "Then just look at it this way: Sevetrin's a House Head, dragons fall all over themselves to get on his good side. He went all the way to the Sunbeam Ruins to give you an invitation — and you're going to deny it? I don't think that's going to look good for you, Legato. You might score brownie points with the Disillusionists, but you don't live in the Sunbeam Ruins. You live in Byzmara — and over here, it's Sevetrin's good graces that're worth more than gold."

Inverse popped up behind him, scaring the life out of the Skydancer. As Nonpareil spluttered, the Tundra said, "Still, it smacks of tricksiness! That Sevetrin is—"

"Really, Inverse, I think you're just biased because he won't let you pick on him. How would he know you and Legato were friends, anyway? He hasn't seen you with each other, has he? Have you told him about the Great ID Cavalcade?"

Inverse folded his forearms. "Nuh-uh! Information about other members is strictly members-only! Hey, wait... cavalcade. That's a good word..."

"There, see? As far as Sevetrin knows, Inverse is just another oddity and you're just a musician he happened to meet abroad — all you have in common is that you're from Byzmara." He squinted at Legato next. The Bogsneak laughed ruefully as he recalled his meeting with the House Head. "Don't look at me, I was too tongue-tied to say anything!"

Nonpareil seemed mollified now. He managed a faint smile. "It's not like you have to decide right away. But it'd probably not be a good idea to let that invitation go stale, you understand?"

Legato's mind raced ahead... He was due back at the Crispy Phoenix two weeks from now. He hoped that by then he would have made his decision. If he decided to take Sevetrin’s offer, he would have to inform Melqart and then make further arrangements. Aloud he said, "Thanks for the advice, Nonpareil. Yes... I'll think it over. Within two weeks I'll have settled things — I hope."

---

Legato clutched his invitation before him like a shield, making sure the seal was clearly visible. The guard who admitted him, however, didn’t even glance at it. He was a young, handsome Wildclaw whom Legato had met before, and clearly he remembered the musician, too.

“Lord Sevetrin will be glad to see you, Legato. Please enter.” Baine gestured for the Bogsneak to follow him. “The House has no events scheduled today, so His Lordship has plenty of free time. You’re lucky,” he said with a wink. “He’s usually busy at this hour.”

Legato waddled after Baine, trying not to gawk like a fool. It was his first time visiting the House of Delights, and it did look delightful. Paths were lined with vibrant hedgerows, and he could hear the faint murmur of fountains. As he neared the House, he glimpsed colors and glints through the doorway, hints of treasures inside.

It wasn’t treasure he was here for, though—it was employment. For the past few months, he’d been performing in a restaurant in the Sunbeam Ruins, playing his violin to entertain crowds of diners. And last time, it’d been quite a crowd: Lord Sevetrin and his entourage had stopped for dinner at the restaurant. Legato had been scheduled to perform, and he’d wowed that crowd—enough for Sevetrin to approach him afterwards and offer him a job as a musician at the House of Delights.

It was an offer most dragons would’ve immediately pounced on...but Legato had hesitated. He wasn’t sure why. Sevetrin never seemed anything other than genial and civilized, and yet...

His friend, Inverse, had been similarly suspicious. He now accompanied Legato, despite being uninvited—he was invisible, though Legato could sense where he was. And now, inside the House, he noticed hints of what Inverse was doing. As Baine led him past an ornate vase, it shivered. Legato feared it would shatter, but it remained firm.

Baine turned around. “Are you all right? —Ah, it’s a very nice vase, isn’t it?”

“I, uh, thought I saw it move. Is it magic?” stammered Legato, lest Baine think he’d been trying to steal it. Inverse had actually been poking it, but he could take care of himself.

Baine waved him on. “I doubt that; we’ve had it for years. And even if it were, well, this spear of mine will see to any sorcerous trickery.”

It was a very sharp spear—a trident, actually, so that made it thrice as sharp. The metal gleamed with an odd golden sheen. “It’s enspelled to negate magic. Quite useful, really.” Baine spoke casually, but the fact that he’d mentioned it at all suddenly made Legato alert, and he looked suspiciously at the Wildclaw.

They reached Sevetrin’s study. The Coatl was reading a book, but he clapped it shut and smiled when they entered. “Welcome to the House of Delights, Legato. Please have a seat.”

“Thank you, Your Lordship.” Legato sprawled onto a nest of cushions—and then froze, ramrod-straight, when Sevetrin added, “You as well, Inverse. You may join us.”

The air iced over. The tension was so thick, Legato thought he’d suffocate...and then with a loud pop! Inverse burst into view. “Well done, Sparklepaws!” he cheered. He was cackling, turning gently in the air—but Legato saw the annoyed glint in his eyes.

“H-How’d you know he was there?” Legato stammered weakly. He decided to own up—he knew lying would make things worse. Sevetrin shrugged. “It is my house, Legato. It’s my business to know who enters my house...and I’ve met your friend before.”

“You have?”

“Yes. He comes by occasionally. Oh, sit down, Inverse. Let’s not stand...float...on ceremony.”

“Don’t like his stick.” Inverse was glaring at Baine like a recalcitrant ultraram. The guard smiled mildly back, and Legato felt another wave of nausea when he realized that Baine, too, had known that Inverse was there.

He didn’t feel any better when, at a wave from Sevetrin, the guard left the room. The House Lord was too calm, too steady. Perhaps...

“Are you here to accept my job offer, Legato?”

“Yes, sir,” Legato whispered. This was it, they were doomed. He’d been stupid to let Inverse accompany him. They would—

Sevetrin slid a sheaf of papers across. “I’ve prepared a contract for you. Please peruse it before you sign. Feel free to ask questions, should you have any.”

Legato automatically bent over the papers and started reading. He was on page two when Sevetrin told Inverse, “I’d wondered when you’d be back. Honestly, you seem better-behaved when you’re with a friend....You are friends, aren’t you?”

Inverse dropped onto some cushions with a clank! It didn’t reassure Legato; it sounded too much like prison chains. The Bogsneak blurted, “Sometimes we, uh, hang out, Your Lordship.”

“Just ‘Sevetrin’, please, Legato. ‘Your Lordship’ becomes very grating after a while.” It was Inverse whom Sevetrin was looking at, however.

Inverse blew a raspberry, a loud and irritatingly high-pitched trill like a cheap flute. “You’re not gonna ruin Legato’s job oppor-tune-ities now, are you?” he challenged. It was an atrociously bad pun, even given the situation, and Legato groaned audibly.

“Of course not. I’m letting him read the contract, aren’t I? In fact,” and Sevetrin brightened, “it’s lucky that you’re here. You always cut your previous visits short...but while Legato’s reading, we can talk, can’t we? I’m sure Baine has told you I’m free for the entire day. Really, I haven’t got anything better to do.”

Inverse had talked about “poofing away” every time Sevetrin had “asked curveball questions”. Now, however, they were stuck—even if Legato finished the contract in the next second, Sevetrin likely wouldn’t let them leave. Unless...

“Ooh, all right.” Inverse sprawled deeper into the cushions. His body deflated until he looked like a squishy bathroom mat. “What’chu wanna talk about?”

“It’s simple: Why do you keep spying on me? Are you working for somebody?”

Inverse trilled again. “Nuh-uh. Work ain’t fun.”

“It’s your hobby, then? Invisibly spying on other dragons...Are you perhaps...a peeper?” A look of distaste moved over the Coatl’s face. Inverse’s hair suddenly stood on end, and trilling nonstop, he splurted around the room like a punctured balloon. “Noooo! Not like that at all! You fiend!”

Legato almost laughed at this. Sevetrin was so unnerved, and Inverse so indignant...For a moment, the world was upside-down.

And then it iced over as Sevetrin said, with sudden coldness, “Regardless, the fact that you feel free to enter my house any time and look into my private dealings is both offensive and unacceptable. You claim you’re doing it for fun—even if that were true, which I sorely doubt, the fact that you persist in your...infiltration...is very suspicious indeed.”

“Sir,” Legato began feebly, “he really just does it for fun—”

Sevetrin spun on him, his pale eyes glinting like daggers. “You know, it’s a strange coincidence that you, the only dragon I extended a job offer to while traveling, just happened to be friends with the only dragon capable of infiltrating my House any time he wishes. I’ll be blunt: I’m a wealthy drake, and I am naturally concerned for my own safety. If you can’t reassure me of your good intentions, Inverse—particularly in light of that staggering coincidence I just described—I shall have to assume I’m in jeopardy. I’m calling the guards.”

“You don’t wanna do that,” Inverse said, and the way he spoke raised the fins along Legato’s neck. Sevetrin responded, “Is that a threat?”

“I think we should stop,” Legato said very, very softly. He didn’t expect anybody to listen, and fear jolted through him like lightning as Sevetrin rose. Things seemed to move in slow-motion: The Coatl turned opened his mouth to summon the guards while Inverse arched his back like an angered cat—

And then it happened: Sevetrin called, but no words left his mouth. He’d lost his voice. He froze, wide-eyed in surprise.

Inverse’s fur quickly smoothened. He gave Legato a conspiratorial wink—though darned if Legato knew what’d just happened—and looked back at Sevetrin. He bowed theatrically. “This is—”

He stopped. He’d lost his voice, too. He and Sevetrin squinted at each other, and then at Legato. The Bogsneak stared helplessly back. “What do I do, what do I do?!” he thought frantically. As he dithered, he felt that jolt sweep through his body a second time—and he realized he could hear himself breathing again.

Inverse recovered first. With another flourish, he declared to Sevetrin, “This is what I’m here for. I’m putting together a crew of very special dragons, Your Sparkliness. You’d fit right in with us.”

“Special?” Sevetrin had been patting his clothes as if checking something; now he looked up sharply. “Special how? And what do you mean, a crew?”

---

There were no surprise visits to the Crispy Phoenix this time. Sevetrin sent a messenger ahead, and days later, when he arrived at the restaurant with his servants and new friends, they were readily accommodated. “I would’ve said no if things had gone differently,” Melqart chuckled to Legato. “A huge wedding party had booked us, but they cancelled at the last minute....Very lucky for you guys!”

“Yes,” Legato agreed, “lucky.” He looked down the table at Sevetrin.

The Coatl had been intrigued by the idea of other dragons with special powers. Inverse had been his usual beguiling self, explaining that Legato’s abilities were helpful during his performances....Never mind that Legato hadn’t even known he had powers. Apparently all the stress that had built up in him, coupled with the fear that he was in mortal danger, had released them. It had been lucky...very lucky.

The rest of their meeting in the House of Delights had proceeded with surprising—even suspicious—smoothness. Sevetrin had reiterated that it was only worry for his own safety that had spurred him to try calling the guards. If Inverse had told him straightaway about the rest of the “ID Dragons”, he would have been less hasty.

Somewhere in there, Legato had somehow finished reading and signing the contract. Sevetrin had looked at it and said, “Everything seems to be in order. No questions?” And, at a headshake from Legato—“You really are a very talented fellow. I’ve no doubt your abilities are helpful while you’re on stage...but then, I hired you to play music, not to silence it.”

Legato had been unsure whether to feel gratified or wary. He’d settled for nervously hopeful: “Thank you so much, sir.”

“My pleasure. Hmm...Are your friends as talented as you? My House could always do with skilled workers and entertainers.” Not thaumaturges, not “unusual ID dragons”—but still, Legato didn’t doubt that that was what Sevetrin had meant.

Inverse had been delighted to introduce him to the others. Nonpareil had been tongue-tied with awe, and Mei Lin and Milano had promptly roped Sevetrin into conversation. Cerys was the only one who’d remained aloof, but then, she had probably been in a bad mood that time.Tonight, she was polite, almost warm, towards Sevetrin, calmly answering his questions about the potions she made.

As for Legato, he disclosed his new employment to Melqart, explaining that he wouldn’t be able to play for the restaurant as often. The Guardian was visibly crestfallen, but he still managed a genial smile and a clap on the back. “You’ve got rare talent, Legs! You’ll definitely get the recognition you deserve in Sevetrin’s House. Best of luck—you’re welcome here anytime, of course.”

Legato thanked him. He would certainly be back, if only to visit his friends and dine, maybe view some of the acts. He returned to his booth to enjoy the rest of the meal.

It was a relatively quiet night at the restaurant. Tantris, one of the Disillusionists, played his lute for the audience, and though Sevetrin admitted he was also talented, he didn’t have quite the panache his House demanded. The food, however, was as excellent as always. The main booth was waited on by Sagrad this time, and Legato thought he was a good choice: He was good-looking, well-mannered, and Valencia’s flirtatious blandishments rolled off his back like water.

Sevetrin seemed to have warmed up to Inverse. He was chatting almost exclusively with the quirky Tundra now. Legato caught only brief snatches of the conversation—something about “generosity” and “favors for new friends”. Inverse looked annoyed, but not disinterested.... “Whatever it is, at least he’s staying out of trouble,” Legato thought.

And then it was time to go. Sagrad waved cheerily as they departed, answering Valencia’s goodbye with, “Good night, Madame, and come back soon!”

Valencia turned forward with a slightly sick look on her face. Baine frowned at her. “Valencia?”

“He called me ‘madame’,” she said in a strangled whisper. She clutched Baine’s arm as she patted her face with her other paw. “That’s a word for old biddies, isn’t it? Is my age showing, Baine?!”

As Baine roared with laughter, Legato looked around, searching for his friends. Mei Lin and Milano were chattering excitedly about the restaurant, while Nonpareil, who was mostly ignored, was saying a variation of, “I told you so!” Cerys was smiling to herself, patting her belly as she fluttered along. Beyond her, Legato saw Sevetrin’s bright glitter. Inverse was a darker shape against the night, briefly visible as he clasped the Coatl’s claws in a handshake. He was grinning openly now.

Legato understood why Sevetrin had been so edgy at first: Inverse’s weird abilities were frightening at times, and the House Lord, who’d doubtless dodged plenty of assassination attempts already, had had every right to be wary. He could take care of himself—by now Legato and his friends knew of his luck powers—but it always paid to be careful. And even after meeting the rest of the ID crew and seeing that they had no special powers, the Coatl had still graciously invited them to dine with him and had even footed the bill.

It was all so...friendly. Things had moved a bit too fast for Legato, to the point of being anticlimactic, and now he felt that even though it was his trip to the House of Delights that had sparked this, he was now only along for the ride. “Might as well enjoy it,” he thought uneasily. At the very least, if they didn’t have Sevetrin’s friendship, they had his good graces and his protection....

If Legato had heard the conversation between Sevetrin and Inverse, however, he would not have been uneasy. He would have been full-on terrified. He thought of things now as anticlimactic, but he couldn’t have been further from the truth—this lull was only the calm before the storm.

---