The week or two after the departure of the Volantenes turned out to be rather quiet. As Viserys and Daenerys settled back into their lessons, and I settled back into writing.
The opening ofThe Trickster of Sevillewas quite successful, and I found myself trying to figure out what to put in writing next. -In no small part with Maelio insisting that I take some weeks off after... all of the recent events-
I did have a thing or two at least in an early stage or writing. But under such circumstances as the ones I found myself in, I figured that it could wait.
The downside is that it left me with way too much free time in a place without access to the modern conveniences used to entertain oneself.
Oh joy.
The good side of things was that there were not many worshippers ofElohim-who had not settled, as far as I knew, on a name for their faith- in Braavos to pester me and try to guilt me into taking some sort of prophetic mantle. The bad side of things was that, for someone whose mindneedsto stay busy, my current environment was definitely not stimulating enough.
Having said that, I would definitely take the relative boredom over... whatever would have happened had I found myself in Westeros upon arrival. I suppose that there is a reason why most of Essos -even Braavos, the most pro-Westerosi city out here- sees Westeros as not just a backwater, but as outright cursed.
My musings were interrupted by Taella, who seemed oddly worried.
"There's someone at the door... they're Westerosi." She said simply. Of course, not even speak, butthinkof the devil...
"I'll take care of it. I suppose that they're both inside?" At her nod, I let out a breath of relief. After all, even though it was extremely unlikely that they had been tracked down to my place -at least if they had not been tracked here before- it was still a worry.
I nearly panicked when I saw that it was one Lord Baelish, accompanied by a man in Baratheon Colors. Still, I could not just leave him outside. It would have been very bad for business.
"Lord... Baelish?" I feigned ignorance, as of course, one cannot expect that I would know who he was beyond that brief introduction back on the opening night ofThe Merchant.
"And you must be the Playwright," He said, that oddly amiable smile that never quite reached his eyes only made me more wary. Sure, I could handle myself in a fight, maybe even a one on one with Baelish, but the added knight there... Not good tidings. "Would you mind if we come in? I have a... proposition for you."
Warily I let the two in. Annaria was making sure that neither Viserys nor Daenerys would come here, and so Taella brought some drinks. Funnily enough, the liquor of choice for the Braavosi was a kind of Rakia, made of pears. I'd come to enjoy it as well.
"You see, I told His Grace about your skills, and King Robert Baratheon would be... interested in hiring you to write a play." I took a sip of the pear rakia -myleanriit was called in the Braavosi dialect- and looked at him.
"I suppose that there is some event that His Grace would like to see depicted" I managed to keep a pokerface at this, as I was clearly not too happy.
"He mentioned the Rebellion of the Laughing Storm, or his own revolt against Aerys the Mad." Baelish supplied helpfully, still with that smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "After news came to Westeros of your talent, and especially ofThe Prince of Egypt..."
"I will think about this," I told him, not intending to do it to be fair. "Are you staying for long, Lord Baelish?"
"Ah, yes, I should still be here for the next fortnight." He said, I was hoping that he thought me convinced, as it would mean that I would be less likely to be subject to pestering by him.
"Then I will inform you of my decision before then."
When he left, I breathed a sigh of relief... Of course, it was too soon.
Petyr Baelish was not the only visitor I would have that afternoon.