Dragons Deal

by Robert Asprin

  "Three?" she asked. Griffen had only mentioned three Eastern dragons interfering in his card games. Was there a third dragon waiting to strike?"

  "I will say nothing more," Elder Father said. "It was good of you to call an old man and brighten the middle of his sleepless night. Perhaps you will telephone again when you have good news. We all hope to hear from you then."

  Mai hung up and threw the phone down on the bed. She now had a secret, one she did not wish to keep, but she had no choice. She couldn't tell Griffen what she knew because she didn't really know anything. Jordan had been cagey, laughing at her ignorance. She must find out about their plot. She could not warn Griffen until she did. Any guess she made as to their motive would almost certainly be wrong. He would be guarding against the wrong thing. She also could not take direct action against the Eastern dragons, not when her elders had condoned their actions, but she had to help Griffen.

  She would have to steer him to protect himself. That was one of the things she did better than anyone else. She would manipulate from the shadows. And, she vowed, catching a glimpse of her bruises and scratches in the looking glass, she would get even with Jordan Ma. No one threw her out the window and lived to smirk about it. Not for long.

  Winston Long and Peter Sing came to Jordan's suite in answer to Rebecca's frantic call. Jordan slumped in his leather armchair in the middle of the wrecked room. His elegant clothes had been torn to rags.

  "Will you live, or do you need medical care?" Winston asked.

  "They are just surface injuries," Jordan said. It hurt to talk. Mai's headbutt had knocked his jaw out of alignment. The joint was swollen. He held the bag from the ice bucket to it.

  "You are covered with bruises," Peter said. "Mai did all of this? Little Mai?"

  "Do not denigrate one for her size," Rebecca warned him. "She is a wily opponent. It took both of us to vanquish her."

  "Where is she now?" Winston asked.

  "Gone. That is all that I care about."

  "Didn't the elders warn her not to interfere with us?"

  "From her babble, I think they have not told her anything about us," Jordan said, willing the cold to numb the pain. "They will now. She will demand answers. She tried to get them from me. I do not know if she will get them from the elders."

  "I hope they tell her to fall down a pit," Peter said.

  "She is too dangerous," Winston said. "She must be removed from the scene."

  "Mai will never leave," Jordan said. "And the elders want her here."

  "She interferes with our mission. I will send her a warning," Winston said, lowering his eyelids dangerously. "If she does not take it, it will kill her."

  Twenty

  Christmas seemed strange without snow. The French Quarter had gone all out for holiday decorations. Every doorway and lamppost was decked out in red and green tinsel. Statues of Santa, the elves, and the reindeer glowed in store windows and in parks. The dreadlocked contortionist in Jackson Square who folded himself into a small plastic box was wearing a BAH, HUMBUG! T-shirt. Even Salvation Army bell-ringers clanged away in their stocking caps on street corners, but Griffen couldn't feel the holiday spirit when it was still over sixty degrees. He put a dollar in the bucket. The ringer stopped tolling the bell to say thank you. At least that custom was the same all over.

  Griffen had gone to the krewe meeting to catch up with the committees, but to Lucinda's disappointment, he didn't stay for dinner. Val, Mai, and Fox Lisa had told him to save the evening. They wanted to hold a small celebration. He had promised to meet them at the Irish bar.

  He was a little uneasy having to face all three of them, especially after having just been with the Krewe of Fafnir. None of the three was satisfied with his explanation about the queenship. Griffen had no more news than before. He had asked about who the queen would be. Etienne had laughed and told him if he really wanted to know, he could buy a copy of the Arthur Hardy Guide, which ought to be out in a day or two. Griffen knew that would be no answer for the girls. He patted the opaque, white plastic bag in his arm. He might be able to buy a little peace with the contents.

  Val looked up as he came in from Burgundy. She waved him over. The bar, which normally had a string of Christmas lights wound around its upper section, had been adorned with more lights, tinsel wreaths, and cardboard cutouts of reindeer. Griffen slid onto an empty stool. The bartender set out a whisky and water on a bright red napkin and pushed it toward him.

  "We went for our costume fittings today," Val said. "They look gorgeous!"

  "They look like bags," Mai complained.

  "No, they don't. And you look adorable in yours. Green's a great color for you," Fox Lisa said.

  "But of course," Mai agreed. "Green is a good dragon color."

  "What's in the bag?" Fox Lisa wanted to know.

  "Aha," Griffen said, mysteriously. He plunged his hand into it and drew out strings of glittering color. They were samples of the throws the krewe had on order. Jacob had let him take a few of the premium throws to give as gifts. The girls dove for the necklaces, yanking the ones they wanted away from one another. The regulars on the family side watched with great amusement and not a little envy as the three women divided the treasure up among them. Mai tried to take the lion's share, gathering them in her small hands.

  "Oh, no, you don't," Val said, untangling the hanks of beads. "You've got more than a dozen there. I want one of those." She pulled loose a string of the giant gold dragon heads.

  "Look what it does," Griffen said. He flicked the miniature switch in the clasp, and the eyes flickered.

  "Ooh, I want that one!" Fox Lisa said, taking the purple dragons away from Mai from the other side.

  "Hey, at least leave me my share!" Mai wailed. She put on the remaining necklaces, including the green dragon beads. "There. Beautiful!"

  "I thought you said they'd be tacky," Val teased her.

  "Well, I have changed my mind," Mai said. "I didn't know how nice they could be."

  "They are good," Fox Lisa said, examining the throws with a critical eye. "Fafnir's picked out some fine things."

  "Come on, folks, it's too early for Mardi Gras!" Rustic protested. He was another regular.

  "They're Christmas gifts," Griffen said. He put a couple of bills down on the bar. "Fred, drinks for everyone on me, and one for yourself. Merry Christmas, everyone."

  The bartender gave him a wink. "Thanks, Griffen."

  Word of free drinks spread through the room in a heartbeat. Everyone raised his or her glass to Griffen as Fred served them.

  "I hope that is not all you have for us," Mai said, with a lift of her eyebrow. "Some plastic necklaces and a drink."

  "Of course it isn't." Griffen patted his bag. "They're staying in Santa's knapsack until our party."

  The buzz of conversation died away. Griffen looked up as Detective Harrison swaggered into the bar. He made his way over to Griffen. Rustic and the others made room.

  "You asked me to come by here, McCandles?"

  "Yes, I did," Griffen said. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

  "Yeah, the greetings of the season to you, too."

  "Is there anything new you can tell us about the murder?" Mai asked him in a low voice.

  Harrison gave her a strange look. "No, ma'am. Nothing fresh."

  Mai looked disappointed. Griffen was surprised at her concern, but he didn't want to draw attention to it. He grinned at the detective.

  "Well, Detective, I've got something for you."

  Harrison's face turned purple. "McCandles, I thought you had better sense than to buy me a Christmas gift," he growled. "You want me in trouble, that is a perfect way to do it. And if you bust my pension, you are going to live in hell the rest of your days on this earth."

  "I understand," Griffen said. "I swear, that's not why I asked you to stop by."

  From a manila folder in his bag, he took a cream-colored envelope. Harrison's name was rendered in ornate script in the center of the rectangle. He handed i
t over. "This is an invitation to Fafnir's ball. They just arrived. I wanted you to have it as soon as they came. I'm keeping my promise."

  Harrison held it in both hands and eyed it as if he were afraid it would explode. He gave Griffen a suspicious look. He opened the flap and slid out the contents.

  Underneath a piece of tissue was a piece of heavy, smooth, cream-colored card stock. At the top of the card was a line, upon which "Mr. David Harrison" had been written in beautiful calligraphy. "The Krewe of Fafnir is honored to invite you to its Masquerade Ball, on Saturday, the eighteenth of January, at eight o'clock in the evening. Black tie. Respondez s'il vous plais."

  Harrison looked stunned for a moment, then sounded gruffer than usual.

  "So you're giving me a present that I have to pay for. Typical of someone like you."

  "Dragons?" Griffen asked.

  "Gamblers. Don't flatter yourself."

  Griffen could tell he was far from offended. In fact, the dour detective was trying not to show how much of a kick he got out of it. "Merry Christmas."

  "Yeah, same to you, McCandles. Well," he said, a little hoarsely, "got to hit the streets. G'night." He stalked out. Griffen knew he was touched.

  "Where are ours?" Val demanded.

  "But you're maids. You don't get invitations," Griffen said.

  "Liar!" Val said. She held out her hand and waited. Griffen shook his head, but he passed out the cream-colored envelopes. Val stroked hers with her fingertips. "I have never seen any paper this nice."

  "First class," Mai said, critically, feeling the edges. "Cream-laid eighty-pound bond, watermarked. The invitation has been engraved. You can actually feel the raised typefaces on it. They scarcely ever use this for wedding invitations anymore, and it used to be the society standard. That must have cost a--oof!"

  Fox Lisa smiled as she withdrew her elbow from Mai's midriff. "Thank you for delivering this, Griffen. I am pleased to accept the invitation."

  "Thanks. I'll tell them."

  "Me, too," Val said. "I'll be there with bells on."

  "So they know the cow has arrived?" Mai asked, and made a face at her friend. Val made one back. "I would be delighted to attend, too. Do you wear your regalia to the ball?"

  "No, formal wear."

  The bartender came back from passing out Griffen's drinks. "Hey, Val, I almost forgot! You got a package."

  "Here?" Val asked. "Who left it?"

  "Didn't know her. A lady. From out of town." He squatted behind the bar and rummaged around for a moment. "Here."

  He handed her the package. The box, ten by fifteen inches, was wrapped in red, blue, and white Christmas paper with a cartoon winter motif: kids riding on sleds, snowmen in top hats and mufflers, and big snowflakes. Val eyed it suspiciously. "There's no card. But I can guess who left it."

  "Melinda," Griffen said. "Do you want me to open it?"

  "No," Val said. "If it explodes, I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

  Griffen almost said he wanted to protect her but held back. Val was going through enough. If it made her feel in control to open her own packages, he had to let her.

  She ripped the paper off. The name on the box was that of a fancy department-store chain. Griffen felt in the air for any trace of dragon power. There was a minute amount, but that could just have been from Melinda's handling it. He was puzzled. So was Val.

  She undid the tissue-paper folds inside and lifted from its nest a shimmering mass of blue silk. "A shirt?"

  "It's a maternity blouse," Mai said, after studying it for a moment. "Very pretty. It looks as if it would fit you perfectly. Your stomach's just bulging a tiny bit now, but I think it's wide enough to fit until you deliver."

  Val felt fury rise in her. Her cheeks felt hot. "How would she know my size?"

  "Wild guess?" Fox Lisa suggested.

  "No! She has been spying on me! I think that she must have been in my apartment." She thrust the blouse at Fred. "Throw it away."

  "Don't be stupid," Mai said, snatching it back from his hands. "This is silk. It will breathe. You are going to want it in the summer."

  "But it's from her!" Val wailed.

  Mai closed her eyes and concentrated. "No sense of magic in it," she said, with a wry smile for her friend's paranoia. "It's just a blouse."

  But Val was right to be concerned. There was a trace on it. She and Griffen exchanged knowing glances. Mai felt the thread of power lead from the seam under the collar, out the door, and around the corner heading south on Toulouse. The spell was meant to trace Val's whereabouts. Mai reached out with a jolt of her own power and destroyed the spell. She felt the power snap like a broken rubber band back to its source. Hope that stings, Melinda, she thought nastily. Merry Christmas, you dried-up old lizard.

  "I don't want anything from her," Val insisted. "She's trying to worm her way into my life."

  "She's left you alone so far. Let's not ruin the holiday," Fox Lisa said. "We come together tonight to celebrate the birth of our savior."

  "We don't really believe in the religious aspects of it," Griffen mumbled. "Faith just didn't enter into our upbringing."

  "Then enjoy the commercial holiday," Fox Lisa said, "and don't ruin it for the rest of us."

  A deliveryman in a logo jacket and a Santa cap came into the bar and caught Fox Lisa's eye. She brightened and waved him over.

  "The food's here! Let's go and have our party. Merry Christmas, Fred."

  "Same to you folks," the bartender called, waving.

  Twenty-one

  Griffen sat down in front of the video player in his apartment and went through his collection of disks. He had amassed hundreds over the past few months, but only in December had he concentrated on finding holiday movies that he liked.

  "If you put on It's a Wonderful Life, I will strike you unconscious with the whisky bottle and set fire to your apartment," Mai said.

  "Never," Griffen said, selecting a disk and inserting it into the waiting tray. "This is my favorite Christmas movie." He put in the original Alistair Sim version of A Christmas Carol. He waited until the credits rolled, then crawled back to his spot near the couch, where Fox Lisa handed around plastic forks and spoons and stacks of paper napkins.

  "What did you buy me?" Mai asked, over mouthfuls of gumbo, corn bread, red beans and rice, and shrimp remoulade. They ate family style on the floor of Griffen's apartment, snagging forkfuls out of whichever container looked good. "Where is my present?"

  "What makes you think I got you anything?" Griffen asked, sitting back against the couch.

  "Because I deserve it," Mai retorted. "So do Val and Lisa. You need to show your appreciation for us putting up with you all these months."

  "I can't argue with that," Griffen said. He reached over the carry-out boxes for the white plastic bag.

  "Good things come in small packages," Fox Lisa said, cheerfully, accepting the palm-sized box wrapped in gold foil. Mai and Val received the same kind of box. Val ripped into hers at once. Mai contemplated hers with pleasure before opening it. Fox Lisa leaned over and kissed Griffen.

  Val held up the earrings. Fine, gold-filled wire had been twisted into miniature dragons with tiny blue crystal eyes. "They are gorgeous, Griff," she said. "You have better taste than I thought you did."

  "Thanks a lot!" Griffen said. "All the time I spent going over every glass case in the store." He shook his head in mock despair.

  Each set was different, but he had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure they suited the recipients. Mai's was a pair of lotus flowers. Fox Lisa squealed with delight over two tiny foxes. Griffen knew better than to have bought identical sets for them. He had not been able to spend as much as he would have liked to, but Jacob had asked him for a deposit on his throws. That eliminated most of his holiday budget. He had to make sure he had enough for rent and utilities, and there was still New Year's Eve to consider.

  "I love them," Fox Lisa said, beaming.

  Mai immediately took the perfect little square-cut em
eralds out of her ears and put the French wires in instead.

  "Very tasteful," she said, admiring the swing of the minute blossoms in her earlobes. "I have many outfits that these will complement."

  Griffen breathed a sigh of relief. Jewelry was a very personal choice. It had been risky to give it, but it seemed to have paid off.

  "We have gifts for you, too," Fox Lisa said, springing up. "Val, do you want to give me your door key?"

  "No, I'll help you," she said. The two of them went out and headed for the stairs. Mai stayed where she was.

  "You had this all set up in advance," Griffen said.

  "Of course. Planning is the key to any good party."

  The girls returned with armloads of colorfully wrapped parcels. They giggled as they handed them around to one another. Before long, Griffen had a small heap of presents in front of him. He hesitated.

  "Well, what are you waiting for?" Fox Lisa asked. "Open them! We want to see what you think!"

  Griffen felt an unfamiliar sense of nostalgia, looking around at the three happy faces. He was related only to Val, and possibly distantly to Mai, if all dragons shared some common ancestor; but this was as close to a family as he had had in years. They cared what he thought. They'd gone to as much trouble as he had, selecting, wrapping, and hiding gifts ahead of time for his pleasure.

  "You know, it doesn't matter what's in them," he said. His throat tightened a little.

  "I know," Val said. He detected a hint of sentiment in her eyes. "Open them anyhow."

  Mai's was a pair of black trousers with the label of an Italian designer in the waistband. The fabric was crisp but not stiff, with just a hint of an elegant gleam. "I had the tailor hem them for me to your measurements," she said.

  "They're great," Griffen said.

  Fox Lisa waited eagerly as he lifted a tissue-wrapped bundle from a sturdy box. He sensed it was delicate, so he set it in his lap to finish the unwrapping. Swaddled in the tissue was a Carnival mask. He had seen hundreds of them in stores throughout the French Quarter. An oval, blank white face was surmounted by a folded fool's cap of bright green and gold. Around the empty right eyehole was painted a gold star. The molded lips smiled very slightly at the corners, as if the mask knew the punch line of a joke it hadn't delivered yet. It was a work of art.