Dragons Deal

by Robert Asprin

  Once the energy stopped battering him, Griffen had a chance to examine the scepter. It was far heavier than it looked. It might have been solid gold. The glittering crystals were not glass. They were jewels. The light danced in them, teasing his eyes.

  "I've never felt power in an inanimate object before," Griffen said. "It went through me like . . ."

  "Shh. We don't speak of it," Holly said. "Come and talk with us later, all right? We'll have a drink."

  "Face your element now," Doug instructed them. "Antaeus, you are the north. Aeolus, you are the east. Fafnir, you are the south. Nautilus, you are the west." He arranged them back-to-back, shoulders touching, facing down one of the aisles toward a wall or a door.

  Griffen imitated the others when they raised their wands toward the ceiling. He felt a little silly, playacting in front of four whole krewes. They were eating it up, but it was all theater. The scepters were made by people who had some inherent power and really enjoyed what they were doing. What did the audience expect to see? Should he wave it around like a fairy godmother?

  "All right, kings, time to call forth your subject. Focus on it. With your scepter, draw your element to you. Call it by name. Now!"

  "Fire!" Griffen shouted.

  Then, suddenly, it wasn't funny anymore. All the lights in his quarter of the room strobed toward him, going on and off like neon signs. The huge bulb over his head burst, releasing golden sparks. They fell toward him. Just over his head, they started dancing on the air like fairies. Each grew larger and larger, then exploded like fireworks. Hot air rushed toward him, kissed his face with a touch like a dry, raspy hand. The top of the scepter burst into flame, which roared toward the ceiling. Griffen flinched, but he could not recoil with the others at his back. He waved the wand, hoping to put the fire out. Instead, flickering lights shook loose from the stylized flame and took off into the air on their own. They danced around his head like cartoon Indians around a campfire. He felt something indefinable unlock. All of a sudden, he felt exposed and vulnerable. This was wild power. It would consume him and everyone there if he did not control it. He had never felt anything like it. It intrigued and terrified him at the same time. As Holly had instructed him, he made himself calm down.

  You are mine, he thought at it. I am a dragon. In fact, I am the head dragon around here! You are subject to my command. The element of fire was given to us. He didn't know whether any of that was true, but it gave him confidence.

  The fire didn't believe him. It formed a face with two ears and a mouth. More flames became two hands that stuck themselves thumb first into the ears and waggled. A forked tongue came out of the mouth. Griffen gawked.

  WHAT was that? he thought at it imperiously, as a strict father might demand of a sassy teenage son. I rule you! His annoyance made the pinball in his belly grow to bowling-ball size. Power raced from it to his arm and to the end of the scepter. Red flames shot out of the gold peaks. They engulfed the wildfire in a cage of glowing net. The mouth of the face opened in a silent bellow of rage. Griffen concentrated, bearing down on the red flames. The cage shrank, until the face was squeezed up against it. It looked at Griffen beseechingly. Its lower lip pouted outward.

  Are you going to do what I want now? he thought at it. The face nodded. Griffen relaxed. The red flames died away, blending with the yellow.

  The combined creature retreated, forming streaks of fire that snaked toward the ceiling and down again in spirals and lightning strokes. Griffen enjoyed the show.

  He was aware of the other elements in the room. Tendrils of water flowed and rippled through the air on his right, hissing into steam as they struck the heat of Griffen's quadrant. On his left, a whirlwind scooted up and down the aisle. With her scepter, Holly conducted music that presumably only she and the scepter could hear. Griffen could not see what was going on at his back with Earth, but the rumble under his feet suggested Wrayburn had assumed authority over his domain, too. Griffen felt all four of the elements were connected, as he was connected to the other three kings.

  "Together we weave the web that keeps our city safe," Doug intoned. "Let it go now. Let it go out and raise the power we need. We'll all meet again on parade day! Send it off. Right now!"

  "Go away!" Griffen said, putting all of his will into the command. He didn't expect it to obey, but it did.

  Fireballs, lightning, and all, the element of fire gathered itself into a ball like a comet. It circled Griffen once, leaving a black contrail that made him cough, then hurtled toward the curtains that covered the door on the south wall. It vanished with a bang! The curtains started smoking. Hoisting a fire extinguisher, Matt stood up and sprayed them. He disappeared in clouds of white. When the steam cleared, Griffen saw a round scorch mark on the yellow fabric. Doug shook his head.

  "We are not gonna get the security deposit back this time," he said.

  The audience sprang to its feet, clapping wildly. Etienne grinned as he showed Griffen two thumbs-up.

  "Great show!" he shouted.

  Doug signed for silence. "Together we weave the web that keeps our city safe. Remember, you can't talk about this with anyone who wasn't here today. But among those of you who were," he said, with a broad grin, "you've got a special story that'll last you a lifetime. See you all later on."

  With the power dispersed, Griffen leaned against the shoulders of the others for support. The audience filed out of the room, talking loudly to one another. They were thrilled and impressed. Griffen was, too, but he needed a chance to go somewhere and think about what had just happened.

  Wrayburn moved first. "C'mon," he said. "I need a drink even if the rest of you don't."

  "I'll beat you to the bar," Griffen challenged him.

  "Yeah, you Fire types got no patience," the big man grunted. "The least you can do is buy the first round."

  "It'd be my pleasure," Griffen said. "Firewater for everybody."

  "Hear, hear!" crowed Holly, putting her hand through his arm.

  Twenty-five

  Griffen took a solid pull at the whisky and water. He needed it. His nerves were still vibrating from the first spell he had ever been involved in casting. All the fantasy novels he had ever read said there was a price of some kind to pay for raising energy. He'd had no idea how spot-on that statement was. He needed a large meal and six hours of sleep on top of the drink.

  The pinball of fire in his midsection warmed at the first swallow to hit his stomach, then went back to sleep, like a cat in the sun.

  "You did some fancy footwork in there," Leopold said, setting down his glass. He had drunk half a beer in one long swallow. "Act like you handled fire all your life. Are you an entertainer?"

  "No, I . . . I work in the gambling industry," Griffen said. "The truth is, I had no idea what to expect. It was amazing."

  "That it was," Wrayburn said. "Hey, since we're bonded for eternity now, call me Cos."

  "I'm Bert," said Leopold. "Just think of Sesame Street. My wife's name is Ernestine, and don't think we haven't heard all the jokes. Or you can call me Nautilus. It's traditional for the king to go by the name of the krewe. Once the year is up, I'm back to being Bert."

  "I'm Griffen. Or Grifter, if you want."

  The big man's eyebrows went up. "Like in The Sting?"

  Griffen shrugged noncommittally. "I played a lot of poker in high school and college. Now I run a business."

  "Well, you are a natural with fire," Bert said. "I am third-generation Nautilus. I'm proud as can be that they saw fit to ask me to be king this year. And it don't hurt that I own six car dealerships. The money helps."

  "But the ritual," Griffen pressed. He wanted to get back onto the subject. Etienne had avoided telling him anything at all. These were his counterparts. They had to know more than he did. "What do you think happened in there?"

  "Some kind of special effects," Cos said, his eyes placid but wary. "I didn't know exactly what to expect. I mean, it's been sixty years and more since that box was opened in public. At least
, that's what your man Doug there said."

  "We were instructed what to do," Bert said. "The instruction went only so far, you know, where to stand, how to hold the scepter. I know I never seen anything like it before. Never felt anything like it. I expect there was some kind of device in there, some kind of setup in the room, but it seemed more real than that."

  "I wasn't told anything except to show up," Griffen said, resentfully. Etienne had blithely given him the time and place but nothing more. He was going to have words with the werewolf hybrid. Small wonder Etienne had disappeared as soon as the ritual broke up. Griffen wanted to confront him. He could have warned him that they were going to be performing some kind of heavy magic in public, before an unprepared and largely nonmagical public. By the time the crowds had cleared, Etienne was gone. With his gift of foreknowledge, he might have had some inkling that Griffen was pissed off.

  "Maybe they thought you already knew what was up," Cos suggested. "Are you descended from a member of the original krewe? Lord knows that when we started up Antaeus again, we had to go through all the archives for our history. Amazing how little people write down when they're sure something is going to carry on in living memory. I'm making sure that every single event this year is documented, recorded, and made into a computer file as well so that we don't have to go through it all again next time."

  "No. I'm from Michigan. I came to New Orleans last summer. I just graduated from college."

  "You did?" Bert asked, surprised. He studied Griffen's face. "You must be some special if they asked you so soon."

  "You can see why," Holly said. "He's got a gift for magic. They must have sensed that."

  "I reject your supposition that what went on in there is magic," Cos said.

  "What else could it be?"

  "But what's all of it for?" Griffen interrupted the budding argument. "Why are you involved in this ritual?"

  Holly regarded him seriously. "Well, do you believe in the concept of a sacred trust? Can you entertain the concept without going all ironical on us?"

  "In theory," Griffen said honestly.

  "Well, this is more than theory, isn't it?" Cos said. "It turned out to be the God's honest truth. I was told what I could expect, but I myself did not know what kind of a holy miracle it was until just a few minutes ago, and it has changed me forever. I wish I could tell my whole congregation. It was mind-blowing."

  "For me, too," Griffen said, sincerely. "No argument there."

  Bert nodded. "What we went through in there is the reenactment of a sacred trust passed down from king to king. It used to be that the king of a country wielded all four elemental scepters to protect his realm, but here we only have our kind of kings, who rule at Mardi Gras."

  "The four elements are invoked, with spirit to bind them together, in the name of the Trinity," Cos added. "This is a sacred rite."

  "I'm not really a churchgoer," Griffen said. "Would that prevent me from participating?"

  "But you're not against goodness, are you?" asked Bert.

  "No, just not sure what I believe. I don't impinge on other people, but organized religion is not my thing."

  "Are you an atheist?" Cos demanded, his brows down.

  Griffen shook his head. "I can't say exactly that I believe in a higher being; but I can't deny that what I thought of as the supernatural is in my everyday life now, since I came to New Orleans."

  "I'm not surprised," Holly said, with a grin. "No matter what you believe, things happen in this city that are hard to explain anywhere else. You don't have to be a believer. We all come from different traditions, Griffen. I'm a wiccan myself. I couldn't make it to . . . Well, we'll talk later about that." Griffen understood. He had known a few wiccans in Michigan and wanted to hear more about the local practitioners. "Antaeus is a Baptist. Only Nautilus is a good Catholic."

  "I'll pray for you all," Bert said, sincerely. The others groaned. "Sorry, but you are probably all lost to heaven," he said. "I hope for your souls' sakes that you find your way before God calls you home."

  "I'll be in the Summerland," Holly said. "He can call me there."

  "Are you blaspheming?"

  "Can you call it that if it isn't your belief system?" she asked. "Look, Griffen, it doesn't matter what we call ourselves, or how we practice, or what we believe or don't. What matters is that what you did and will do protects New Orleans. It is a special place. Some major ley lines come through here. The energy centers running along the Mississippi alone could power some serious spells . . ." Bert groaned. She rounded on him. "All right, but why does a priest cense the church with incense and chanting?"

  "To drive out malign energies. The devil!"

  "That is what we do, too! We all call the devil by the name that has meaning to us. Darkness, chaos, evil, greed, anger. Sin is a matter of discussion, but that which hurts other living beings is just plain wrong. Can we agree on that?"

  "To place it to do God's work--" Bert said.

  "Or Goddess's," Holly put in, earning an annoyed scowl from him.

  ". . . Is a holy thing."

  "I can get behind that," Griffen said. "But don't ask me to put a label on it. It wouldn't be sincere."

  "All right," Cos said. "I don't want to get ugly about it."

  "I have some other questions, if you don't mind," Griffen asked. "About the ritual specifically. Why, if it's important to bind the energy to protect the city, don't we do it right here and now?"

  "We don't have the energy yet," Holly said. "We have to raise it to bind it. Our ritual today will start drawing out the power that is in the city, so, on the day of our parade, we can gather it up and imbue the city with the protection it needs for the next century. Really, it should have been done every decade."

  "Like a booster shot?" Griffen asked, grinning. Holly grinned back.

  "I don't know what the fuss is," Cos complained. "You know, we all got along okay without doing this for years."

  Holly rejected his assertion. "This is a vital focus for the state and the country, even the continent. Most people ignore New Orleans except at Mardi Gras, but what happens here affects people and places for thousands of miles around it. So, we will use the energy that people give while they are here for the Carnival, and from the four elements themselves."

  "It all comes from God," Bert insisted.

  "I am in no position to dispute that with you," Holly said. "The higher powers are a matter of faith, as you say."

  Griffen sensed they were skirting delicate subjects again. "It worried me that all that power has been cut loose without control. It seemed totally wild. Isn't that dangerous?"

  "Of course it is," Cos said seriously. "We could be killed trying to lay the power on parade day. We're all prepared for that. Aren't you?"

  Griffen was taken aback. "No! I . . . I didn't really know until now what it meant to be the king."

  "Well, in most krewes it's purely ceremonial--or financial. You can understand why this particular ritual hasn't been tried in a long time. When our krewes started marching again, the text was in the archives, but no one wanted to try it until all four of us were back. Now we are. And we are standing up to protect our home."

  Bert cleared his throat. "I read in the Book of the Sea--that's our records--that once these scepters are unleashed, they have to be deployed in exactly the right way as soon as possible or problems start to ensue. We can't just play with them. The power has to be kept in balance. Otherwise, there are far-reaching consequences. Yes, that could be death, but if we're careful, it won't be."

  Griffen felt his heart sink. He wasn't sure whether he was prepared to die for his newfound city. Etienne hadn't been open with him about the risks. He needed to make Etienne tell him what else he had foreseen. The others watched him curiously. He swallowed his ire.

  "If you don't mind my asking, the ritual calls for the kings of krewes to govern the elements. You're female."

  "Well, I am glad you noticed that," Holly said, her voice deeply ironical.
r />   "I'm not objecting! But the language doesn't say 'or queens.' "

  "Which is funny, when you consider that when Aeolus was founded back then, it could be led by a man or a woman, and our krewe has always been part of this ritual. But female kings go back past the common era, Griffen. Haven't you ever heard of Hapshetsut? Or Cleopatra? Technically, I am not a king at all. My title is Sprite of the Krewe of Aeolus. My counterpart, Ethan, is the Cyclone. You see? Nongender-specific titles. The other two, like yours, are more traditional. We actually all started out as one krewe, but it split into four after the first few years so we could cover more ground and bless more of New Orleans. We all used to march through the French Quarter; but when the law was changed, frankly, it was an advantage. The routes we chose are more specific to the compass direction our element is ruled by. Have you seen them?" She fished a magazine out of her large handbag and flipped to the pages at the back. "There we are, all listed on facing pages."

  Griffen examined the routes. "I see! Except for St. Charles Avenue, we all start and end in different areas. But isn't that just where your dens are?"

  "Why do you think we chose those dens?" Cos asked, tapping the side of his nose like Santa. Griffen pretended to smack himself in the forehead.

  "We can't march through the Quarter any longer, but the throws will be blessed--by celebrants of our choice," Holly added, as Cos started to protest, "and that will help to spread the blessing all across the city. Just keep your head together and concentrate on what you're doing. The diary kept by the last Sprite to wield the scepter said it was best to relax and enjoy yourself."

  "We can't have fun out there!" Bert said. "It's too serious a matter!"

  But they saw the twinkle in his eyes. Griffen relaxed. Maybe it wasn't going to be that bad. He was fascinated by the rituals. He really liked his fellow kings, and he truly felt as if he had just joined a secret society. Then a thought struck him. Was this something Harrison needed to know? What could he tell him? And would it be more than the man could take, with the murder of a supernatural already on his hands?