Dragons Deal

by Robert Asprin

  "Just go with Pearson, McCandles. We need to talk."

  Pearson had to be an agent, but he was also a dragon. Griffen knew the man didn't have anything near the pure blood that he did, but Pearson was better trained and almost certainly armed to the teeth. He had deep blue eyes that fastened onto Griffen's like glue. Griffen considered making a run for it, but Stoner knew everything about him, including where he lived and where he liked to hang out. It would be better to get the confrontation over with.

  "All right," he told the phone. "But he does not lay a hand on me."

  "Fine," Stoner said. Pearson seemed to listen for a moment, then nodded. "Come on in. I'm ordering you coffee and beignets."

  Griffen went into the cafe. Jason Stoner sat at the back, at a table near the long-leafed plants outside the rails that surrounded the restaurant. As Griffen went inside, Pearson peeled off and waited, looking as if he was deciding whether to go in for a snack.

  A very slim black waitress stood by with a cup on a tray. She didn't set it down until Griffen reached the table.

  "Thought you'd prefer to see it delivered," Stoner said.

  "What can I do for you, Stoner?"

  "I told you not to get involved with anything that interfered with Homeland Security."

  "And I told you I wouldn't," Griffen said. "I haven't."

  "And not to participate in any magical spells that would endanger the country that you claim you love."

  "Of course I'm not!" Griffen's face got hot.

  "I find that hard to believe when there is some serious hoodoo going on that is counter to the interests of the United States of America, and I find you right in the middle of it."

  Griffen held his temper. "I don't want to cross you, Stoner, but you keep accusing me of being involved with things I'm not, or doing things that I not only am not doing but have no idea as to what you are talking about."

  Stoner regarded him without expression. "Then you will have no objection if I stop the people who are endangering this country."

  "Not at all," Griffen assured him. "I think it'd be a good thing."

  "In that case, I want those scepters," Stoner told him.

  "You want what?"

  Stoner's impassive face twitched just a millimeter. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, McCandles. You have seen them and touched them."

  "Yeah, but they're just relics. They're meant to protect the city of New Orleans. They're elemental."

  "Do you even know what that means?"

  "Not really, but I know people who do. They say that they're part of an ancient charm that keeps the city from disaster." He didn't know how much more he was able to say, considering the vow of secrecy he had taken, but he guessed that Stoner knew as much or more about it than he did already.

  "That protection, as you call it, interferes with the spells that we have running to surveil the United States of America. When it is operational, it blocks all scrying or distance-viewing powers. In other words, it blocks this city from view."

  "What about ordinary cameras? Microphones? I'm sure you have all that stuff in place."

  Stoner didn't even blink. Griffen wasn't sure he ever did. He had eyelids, but perhaps they didn't close--like a snake's. "Our equipment deployment is classified. But there are things that ordinary technology cannot monitor. The spells must not be laid down."

  "Now I don't know what you are talking about."

  "You're a bad liar, McCandles. You do. I want you to help me."

  "I told you I don't work for you."

  "National security is at stake here. We cannot adequately protect this country if one part goes under a magical blackout. I warned you not to become involved in a subversive activity."

  "This is New Orleans. Half of what goes on in this city is subversive," Griffen pointed out.

  Stoner, notably, had no sense of humor. Griffen should have known better than to try. "Not that endangers three hundred million people and their way of life. You have access to those scepters. Bring them to me."

  "I can't do that. And I don't have access, except . . ."

  "Except when?"

  "Except once," Griffen said, lying again and hoping his poker face was good enough to fool the Homeland Security agent. "They let me touch them. I thought it was just a game."

  It didn't. "I'm not a fool, McCandles. No one with any sensitivity would miss the punch those things pack. We have been looking for them for years. They are well shielded most of the time. There have been a few times they were detected. We have tried to obtain them at those times. They were . . . protected." Griffen knew what he meant. He realized that it had to be Stoner who was responsible for the attack on Holly's house, the one that he had just barely survived. He was horrified by the thought that Stoner would kill four innocent people to get what he wanted but not surprised. "The next time you have access to them, I expect you to pass them on to me."

  When hell freezes over, he thought. "When I get hold of all four scepters, I'll talk to you. But I have no idea if that's even possible."

  "That's the cooperation I expect," Stoner said. "I don't want to have to take action when there are so many innocent citizens around who might get hurt. Don't force my hand. I expect to hear from you, or I am going to come and get them myself before they can do any harm."

  The Homeland Security agent rose and placed a perfectly crisp new ten on the table. He left. Pearson and another man in nondescript clothes joined him. They went south on Decatur.

  Griffen was relieved when Stoner left. He hated to have the man as an enemy, but his demand put them on opposite sides of the situation. To be a noncombatant in Stoner's battles was all Griffen could hope for. But he had no choice. Griffen could not give up the scepters before they had done their job. New Orleans deserved to be protected. No matter how powerful or all-seeing Homeland Security was, it couldn't guard the city all the time from all events. They had to look out for themselves.

  In the meantime, they had to protect themselves from Stoner and his agents. Griffen had no choice. He had to warn the other krewes. They would have to prepare.

  "We'll be ready for you," Griffen vowed. He left the coffee untouched and ordered a fresh cup and a plate of beignets. He opened his cell phone and hit a speed-dial number.

  Forty-eight

  Lucinda Fenway bustled around her unexpected guests with all the aplomb of a practiced hostess. She saw to it that everyone had a chair and a drink in the large conservatory. "Edith will have some nibbles set up soon. You all relax now." She started to leave.

  "Don't go," Griffen asked. "You're part of the krewe, too. You need to know what's happening."

  "Well, all right, Griffen," she said, sinking into a handy chair. "You sound so serious."

  "I have to be." He stood with his back to the fireplace, looking out over most of the same faces that had been at his party: all the lieutenants of Fafnir who could make it, the other three parade kings and their captains, Val, and to Val's annoyance, Melinda. Jerome and Gris-gris sat on folding chairs near the back. "Thanks for coming. I know it's the day before our parades, but we have a problem that will affect all of us."

  Without using names, he told them about Stoner, and described him and the two agents he had seen. "He intends to get the scepters between the time they come out of that shielded case and before we bind the energy that has been building up. To me, that means he is going to try to take them before we get to St. Charles and Canal Street."

  "He can't do that!" Callum said. "He can't stop the ritual! We've waited sixty-four years to get this done!"

  "He sure is going to try," Griffen said. "He's tough, and he isn't working alone. You have to be prepared. Fafnir is under control. I'm worried about you other three krewes."

  Cos Wrayburn leaned back in his chair. "I highly doubt that with all the police out there and the crowds, someone is gonna try and jump us during the parade. We're in plain sight!"

  "Look, call me paranoid if you want," Griffen said, but you don't k
now what you're dealing with. You've honored me by taking me into your . . ."

  ". . . Fellowship?" Holly suggested.

  Griffen smiled at her. "Yes, fellowship. That's a good word for it. I wouldn't mislead you, but you don't have to trust me. You all know Etienne?"

  "For years," Bert said, grinning at the Fafnir captain, who threw him a mock salute. "He's a little crazy, but everything he has ever said is going to happen happens. I can't explain it, but I accept it."

  "Well, Mr. Griffen is right," Etienne said. "Dere's gonna be an attempt on all of you. Strong men, out-of-towners who don't respect the tradition or Mardi Gras, either. We gotta protect de scepters."

  "So what are you suggesting, Griffen?" Cos asked. "Are any of us in danger?"

  "Not physically, unless you resist giving it up. I suggest that I put a rider aboard your float who can help protect your scepter at least until the power is harnessed, and at best until the parade is over and it gets put away again for next time."

  "Oh, no," the captain of Antaeus protested. "The king float is special for our king. He rides alone."

  Cos sat up. "I don't want anyone else on that float with me. I don't need help. If I am to do God's work, God will protect me."

  "But what if this is one of those cases in which you're supposed to help yourself?" Griffen asked. "Look, what about a squire? Someone who will hand you doubloons and necklaces when you want them? Snap your fingers for a refill?"

  "I kind of like that," Bert said, grinning. "Okay, you can put one aboard my barge. Especially if he can pour drinks."

  "All right," Cos said, reluctantly. "But nobody who's gonna act out of turn. I don't want someone who's gonna draw attention away from me. I've been waiting years for this chance, Griffen."

  "I have a couple of good people," Griffen assured him. He signed to the two men in the back, who stood up. "Both of them work for me. I will vouch for them absolutely. Gris-gris will ride with you, Bert. He's tough and fast. He follows orders. Cos gets Jerome. He can help you spot the people you have to be on the lookout for."

  Cos looked Jerome up and down. "You've got good shoulders. You'll look good in a toga."

  "Oh, no," Jerome said, holding his hands in the air. "No toga. But I will wear full mask and costume. I won't look like anything special. I will blend right in."

  "That'll do," Cos said. "We're in, Griffen. What about Holly?"

  Griffen hesitated. Melinda had offered him some of her men, but he didn't want to use anyone he personally could not trust. "I'm still checking around for someone who is fast, smart, and tough that I know can handle this situation."

  "No problem," Val said. Griffen looked at her curiously. She whipped out her cell phone and dialed a number. "Yeah. It's me. Ms. Beautiful. Get here. I want to call in my favor." She smiled at Griffen. "This shouldn't take long."

  They waited. Suddenly, squawking came from the hallway. Edith arrived just in front of a short, thin, scruffy-looking male who pushed his way into the conservatory. "He just came out of the fireplace!" she shrieked.

  "It's okay, Edith," Callum said. "He's with us."

  "Okay, babe, I'm here. What do you want?"

  "He'll do it," Val said.

  "I'll do what?" the man asked.

  "Just say yes," Val told him.

  "Yes," he said, obediently, though his face was set in a mulish expression. "What am I agreein' to do?"

  "I'll tell you on the way uptown," Holly said, rising to take his arm. "Come on with us. Griffen, don't worry. We'll be ready for anything. And thanks."

  "One more thing," Griffen said. "We need to keep in communication. I brought walkie-talkies. They have earphones so we don't have to hold them up all the time. They're all on the same frequency. It's an open one, but I can't help that." Jerome passed out the plastic blister packages. He and Gris-gris escorted the others out of the house.

  "What about us, Griffen?" Callum asked. "You got a strong man to ride your float with you and take care of that scepter? Protecting this city from fire's the most important thing of all."

  Griffen stared at him. "I don't have to have anyone else with me. All of you are going to be riding right in front of me."

  "Well, what do you expect us to do if this guy turns up?" Terence asked. "He sounds pretty dangerous."

  "You're dragons!" Griffen exclaimed.

  "Well, but we're not really fighters," Mitchell said.

  "It's part of what we are!" He looked around at their puzzled faces. No wonder they had never attacked him or challenged him. They had forgotten what they were. "Look, the guy who is attacking us is another dragon. He's pretty powerful, and he has agents with him, but there are twenty of us against three of him. We can do this! You all claim that your blood makes you more important than anyone else."

  "Well, yes," Callum admitted. "So what?"

  "Well, what do you think having dragon blood means? What it used to mean? You transform for party tricks? And you were pretty rude to my friend Fox Lisa at the party, and all because you have dragon blood running in your veins. Is that all your heritage means to you? Picking on someone else? Well, I have more, and I am saying you have forgotten what it is to be a dragon."

  The group looked at one another.

  "You shame us, Griffen," Callum said, reproachfully.

  "I hope so," Griffen said. These people had lived all their lives in comfort and privilege. They had gone soft. There had been no such thing as someone like Stoner the last time Fafnir marched. In those days, anything someone did to protect their home was understood. It was more important than letting the government eavesdrop on you. The presumption of innocence meant something. "You don't know what it's like to be under threat. This is it! We are being threatened. I need you to keep these men from taking over something that is important to our whole city. As dragons, you have the power to prevent that. If you want this ritual performed, that is. As your king," Griffen added, though he couldn't believe the words were really coming out of his mouth, "I need your help."

  The lieutenants gawked at him as if he were suggesting they dance naked in public.

  Melinda flung herself up out of her seat. "What is wrong with you? Never in my life have I seen so many self-righteous, complacent people! What will it take to get you to rise and do something difficult? You have worked tirelessly for the parade and the parties, but not for the ceremony at the heart of your involvement? I don't believe it! Back home, we would eat you cowards for lunch!"

  Lucinda's eyes flashed. "We have a different way of doing things here, Mrs. Wurmley."

  Melinda turned to regard her. "Well, Mrs. Fenway, how is that working out for you? Look at you! Never mind, Griffen. We don't need them. All it will take to repel this foolish intruder is you, me, and Valerie."

  "Hey!" Val protested. Melinda put her hand on Val's shoulder, ignoring her efforts to shrug it off.

  "Together we will be far more of a force than all of you put together. This girl here has ten times your potential. She hasn't known of her heritage for more than a few months, and she's more prepared than you are to face a threat."

  Griffen watched Val's face change from open hatred to open astonishment. Melinda did honestly seem to appreciate his sister. Val was just starting to realize it.

  Mitchell cleared his throat. "We haven't forgotten who we are, Griffen. It's just that y'all are opening up cans of whoop-ass that we sealed up decades back."

  "When this is over, you can go back again to the way you were before. This won't change your relationship with your allies. You have a common enemy. What about it? Will you help me?"

  "I will," Etienne said. "You'll save the ritual, Mr. Griffen. You'll see to it that dis city and everyone in it is protected from fire."

  "I'll do my best," Griffen said. "Look, if I am wrong about these men, then you can blame me later on. If I'm right, then you have to admit that. In any case, I insist. You respect pure blood. I'm invoking it."

  "Well, you don't have to put it that way," Callum said. "Of course,
if there's going to be a problem, we'll help." The others chorused their agreement.

  Griffen almost collapsed with relief. "All right, then let's discuss strategy."

  "That was weird," Val said, as they waited for Doreen to pick them up on the curb in front of the Fenway house. Melinda had already departed in her chauffeured car.

  "Are you all right?" he asked her.

  "Yeah. I . . . have a lot to think about."

  Griffen nodded. "If you want to talk, let me know. Excuse me, I have one more call to make."

  He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed. "Harrison? It's Griffen. Stoner is in town. He didn't call you? He said it was a matter of national security."

  Forty-nine

  The deafening blare of horn music filled the street outside of Fafnir's den. A giant knight in silver armor over fifteen feet high was the first thing that met Griffen's eye. Only when he got closer, he saw the puppeteer underneath the mannequin's legs, as if he were giving it a piggyback ride. It raised a huge hand and saluted him. A huge green dragon, riding on the backs of two puppeteers, came over to menace the knight. Griffen left them to their game. In the street, hundreds of musicians in a rainbow of uniforms vied with one another to be heard as they tuned up. The smaller floats sat between the super floats. Each had a float captain who shouted at the riders around him to finish setting up and get on board. In turn, Mitchell, the parade captain, shouted at all the float captains through a megaphone. Hooks on each float were loaded with swaying hanks of necklaces. The weather prediction was for sunny but cool, in the upper fifties. Griffen was glad of his gold silk livery and the hearty lunch he had eaten. Both would keep him warm on the front of his float on a cool February evening. He went up the line looking for it.

  He had not slept well the night before. Excitement and worry gave him strange dreams. He felt as if he were still in them, passing among crowds of krewe members in full costume, dogs dressed as dragons, and the giant heads on the brilliantly colored and neon-lit floats all looking at him with insane grins.