Dragons Deal

by Robert Asprin

  "Griffen!" Val shouted. She stood up on the maids' float and waved. Fox Lisa and Mai were with her. Their silk gowns and headdresses made them look like ladies from Castle Anthrax. "Good luck!"

  To his astonishment, he noticed that Melinda was with them. They were all wearing earpieces. "What's going on?" he asked.

  "I am mustering your secondary force, Your Majesty," she said. She pointed to her own float, which was next in line. "I will be able to hear you, but they won't. You were going to waste a valuable resource: these girls. We have made our own preparations."

  "Good idea," Griffen said. Val was openly less hostile to her than before. He leaned close to Val, and murmured in a low voice, "Are you all right?"

  "I . . . still don't trust her, but she treats me like I matter."

  He smiled and patted her arm. He was glad the truce was holding. "You do. Good luck. I know you all know how to take care of yourselves." Fox Lisa patted a fanny pack slung over her shoulder. Griffen blanched. "You're not riding armed, are you?"

  "No!" she exclaimed. "But I've got pepper spray. You never know."

  Mai smiled at him. "Those knee breeches show off your calves, Griffen. You should wear them more often."

  Griffen shook his head. "Next time I'm king, maybe. I'd almost rather wear a tux!"

  A handsome white horse trotted up to them. Etienne was on its back in green-scaled mail and a helmet. "C'mon, Mr. Griffen. Get on board! We step off in less than half an hour!"

  Griffen followed him to the front of the line, where the rest of the lieutenants milled around on twenty matching white horses. He mounted his float, which looked like the head of a dragon with its mouth open. Hidden inside the lower-front fangs were boxes of throws. He checked them all: the shining metal doubloons, glittering necklaces, and stacks of The Flagon with the Dragon. He grinned and settled himself on his golden throne. Nothing to do now but wait and enjoy.

  Antaeus had stepped off an hour and a half before. Griffen had been monitoring their progress through his earpiece. So far, Jerome had reported no suspicious activity or other dragons. Harrison had been in touch, furious about Stoner. It took a lot to convince him that Griffen had not known about Stoner's designs on the scepters all along.

  Griffen touched the walkie-talkie attached to his costume inside the back of his belt.

  "Antaeus, this is Fafnir. How are you doing?"

  "Just passed Lee Circle," Jerome said, toggling his radio. He had a padded stool at the front of the king's float, handy to pass more throws from the concealed cartons to the King of Antaeus. He wore an all-enveloping robe of purple silk with a gold headcloth tied around his forehead with a green cord. The band behind them was playing an energetic rendition of "You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You." "Nice night. Plenty of kids. Make sure you throw a bunch of stuff toward that hotel on the south side of St. Charles. There's a forest of ladders!"

  "Everything's fine, Griffen," Cos Wrayburn put in. He stood tall in his leopard-skin toga, brown tights, and boots, a crown of tall crystals on his head, waving to the crowds with the mountain-topped golden scepter. He stood on a half dome painted to resemble the northern hemisphere. "Jerome and I are having a good time."

  "Yeah, it's different riding in a parade," Jerome commented.

  "Never belonged to a marching society myself," Cos commented. "Sounds like good people."

  "They are," Jerome said. He liked the big man. They had had a lot of time to get to know one another since the parade mustered on the side street. "We have a get-together on Lundi Gras, next Monday. You ought to come along."

  "I will! You come to our party, too. It'll be a blast."

  Jerome felt rather than saw a dragon coming toward them. He turned around just in time to see a man with a long face in a pale blue polo shirt jump up on the float. It had to be a dragon; no one else moved like that. Even in twilight, he could see that well enough.

  "Get off my ride!" Cos demanded.

  "I am from the United States government. I am here to confiscate that scepter." He showed Cos an identification card with a badge. Cos studied it and started to hand the golden wand to him. Jerome stood up between them just in time. Cos protested.

  "Jerome, he's the law."

  "No. Grifter, we've got one."

  Cos added, "Griffen, you didn't tell me we were dealing with US agents!"

  "Cos, calm down!" Griffen's voice came from the earpiece. "Does he have a warrant?" Jerome repeated the demand to the agent.

  "No, he doesn't."

  "He's not acting on official orders," Griffen said.

  The long-faced man was adamant. "I represent Stoner. Do you know who he is?"

  "No," Cos said, his big face turning red. "And if he has a warrant, he can come and see me after the goddamned parade. Now, get off my float!"

  Faster than one would have thought the big man could move, Cos grabbed the other's wrist and tossed him toward the side of the float. The agent recovered almost in midair and landed on the step just before hitting the street. The crowd cheered, thinking it was an act. He sprang up and made a grab for the scepter. This time, Jerome was ready for him. He rushed the man with his shoulder down and flipped him. The man rolled up and tried to make a counterattack, but Jerome knew more martial arts than just street fighting. The two of them traded punches, kicks, and blocks to the delight of the onlookers. Jerome panted into his mike.

  "Grifter, call the cops!"

  The agent halted, alarmed. Suddenly, big men in uniform began to converge on the float. Jerome took advantage of his opponent's momentary stiffness to cannon into him. They leaped off into St. Charles Avenue just as they reached Canal Street. Jerome grappled with him, but he broke every hold. The man had training! The officers flanking the parade route moved in and grabbed him. The man fought free of their grip and tried to catch up with the king float, but Cos already had the scepter held high.

  "I bind the element of Earth!" Cos bellowed. "Let the power be settled and protect this city, in the name of God!"

  Jerome was knocked sideways as a shock wave hit him. It felt as if he were standing in the surf and got hit by a major roller. It felt heavy but natural, a little dangerous but good. Invoking his Maker gave Cos the strength of the pure. That was nothing to be sneezed at. Jerome respected a man with genuine faith.

  The surge of power disoriented the police, too. They staggered. The agent took the opportunity to shake free of their hold. He fled into the crowd. Jerome thought about chasing him, but there was no point. He hadn't gotten what he came for. He clicked his mike.

  "Griffen, we're good! One down, three to go!"

  He caught up with the float. Cos leaned down and hauled him up.

  "Wow," Cos said. "Did you feel the earth move back there?"

  "Yeah," Jerome said. "That was pretty good. Normally, I have to have a lady with me for that, but this was cool, too."

  "That was some pretty fighting," Cos said. "Come and have a beer with me when this is over. Meanwhile, hand me some doubloons! We got kids shouting at us."

  "So you're really a clinker!" Holly said, admiring the cockscomb scales on the small male's head. Wearing her diaphanous chiton, she sat strapped into her pale blue throne surrounded by fluffy white tulle sculpted into clouds and lit by twinkling LEDs. Her float was fashioned into the image of an enormous cumulus cloud with a screwed-up face that looked like it was blowing her throne down St. Charles. All the floats that followed hers were based on the theme of Stormy Weather. The jazz band marching behind them played the classic blues song as they went. Chinese kite flyers made their neon-lit toys dance on against the night sky, to the laughter of the children watching. She waved her scepter at the crowd with one hand, blessing them, and tossed necklaces with the other from pots of throws on either side of the throne. She had cups, doubloons, fans, and a special box for later on.

  "You keep sayin' that, lady," the clinker said, crouched in the mass of fabric. "My name's Charlie."

  "Charlie the clinker?"

 
"Don't call me that!"

  Holly cocked her head sympathetically. He swore like an X-rated movie, he was cocky as hell, but he fascinated her. She was delighted to meet another genuine human- something else hybrid. He had demonstrated his fire-starting powers for her, to her open admiration. Since then, he had responded to her in a pigtail-inkwell kind of way. This had been her favorite day ever since she joined the craft. "Is that a sore spot?"

  He made a sour face. "Every damned day!"

  "I'd really like it if you would come and talk to my coven," she said.

  "Lady, I don't do no lecture tours. Unless you pay," he added, hopefully.

  "Wait a moment," Holly said. She listened to her earpiece. Charlie heard it, too. "Heads-up. Antaeus just got attacked. Jerome says we're next. Look out after we pass Lee Circle."

  Charlie braced himself. "They be sorry they try us."

  She kept in touch by radio with Ethan, five floats behind her, and her captain, Nish, riding with her lieutenants at the front on Harley-Davidson motorcycles.

  "Anything?" she asked, over and over.

  "Nope. We'll see 'em if they come in from anywhere," Nish replied, over the roar of her engine. Holly acknowledged it as she bent down for another handful of doubloons. They couldn't sneak up on her unless . . .

  They came from behind. A large man with no expression on his square face was suddenly there. He grabbed her wrist and pried at her fingers, trying to take the scepter.

  "No, sir!" Charlie bellowed. He jumped onto the man's back and held on. The agent let out a bellow. Smoke started to rise from his clothes. He let go of her and batted at the clinker, but Charlie's grip was too good. The man fell off the float. Nish signed to the other riders, who gunned their bikes to surround him and held on to him until the police could run in and arrest him. Holly breathed a sigh of relief.

  But he wasn't alone.

  A taller man with a long face appeared on the other side. He snatched the scepter right out of Holly's fingers. He dove off the float and did a barrel roll on the pavement. Charlie ran after him. The man drew a gun. The people in the crowd screamed.

  Charlie dodged from side to side, then sprang. The man tossed him off before he could get a good hold. The clinker landed in the crowd. The people he landed on yelled as his hot skin burned them.

  "No!" Holly shouted. "Let him have it! Please! Come back!"

  The clinker looked at her. The man dashed away, shoving over ladders full of screaming children as he went. Irate parents hurried to straighten them up. He vanished, under cover of darkness. Charlie's shoulders collapsed. He trudged back to the float. Holly pulled him up, ignoring the heat from his hand.

  "I blew it!" Charlie wailed. "Ms. Beautiful is gonna tear me a new one!"

  "No, we haven't failed," Holly said calmly. "Have you ever heard of the Law of Contagion?"

  Charlie looked at her sideways. "Yeah, if you cough without covering your mouth, you can make other people sick."

  Holly smiled. "No, not that one. If you touch something to something else, they are bonded forever and have the same properties." She opened the last sealed cardboard box. It was full of scepters just like the one that had been stolen. She started throwing them to the crowd. "That was plastic, just like these. I enchanted all of these last night with the original, which is in a safe place, by the way." She raised one of the substitutes as they reached the intersection at Canal Street. She felt the down-to-earth strength of Antaeus, and concentrated on tying in that of Aeolus. "Air!" she cried, and recited the words of the ritual. She activated her radio. "Griffen, we're clear!"

  "Y'all know you look like Aquaman," Gris-gris told Bert again, as they turned onto St. Charles from Jackson Street. The king of Nautilus had a scaled, marine blue hip-length tunic and black tights with black boots laced up the front, and a crown made of spiral shells. Gris-gris didn't feel much better about his own costume, which looked like it came out of the Gladiator movie. At least it had leather pants, not a skirt.

  "Yeah, I know. I told the seamstress that when she showed me the fabric, but she said it's sea blue, and what do I expect?" Bert gave him a wink. "So I just settled for thinking there's something for the comic-book fans, too." His throne looked like a big shell. Gris-gris sat beside him on a clump of fake red coral filled with neon-edged clown fish. Giant seahorses attached to the front of the float looked as if they were pulling it. Stick-manipulated giant puppets that looked like sea monsters danced around them as the nearest band played "Under the Sea."

  The Nautilus krewe had welcomed Gris-gris as an asset. He felt disadvantaged, thrown into a social group he normally slunk around, resenting, but his Val had brought him into a new world. He'd live up to the situation for her. So far, if he was honest, it had been fun. If he was afraid he'd be made fun of, most of the people he hung around with were driving tractors that day. He was riding on the king's float. So how do you like that?

  "Hope someone takes my picture for Val," he said.

  Bert grinned at him. "That's some girl you have there."

  Gris-gris felt a moment's tenderness for Val, something he wouldn't admit out loud even under torture. "Yeah. Never found anyone I cared about like that."

  "How much? Would you die for her?"

  "In a minute, but then I couldn't be with her, so that's a waste." He grinned back.

  They were having a fine time. Gris-gris made sure Bert had whatever he needed for kinging. He kept him supplied with necklaces, bottle openers, inflatable beach balls, and other trinkets to throw to the yelling watchers. Gris-gris stowed a few of each to take home later for his nephews and cousins. There was plenty of beer on board. Nautilus was never dry, Bert commented drolly.

  A dancing octopus draped its tentacles over the foot of the seashell. Gris-gris leaned back out of its way.

  When it passed, a big man dressed as a merman was standing on the float. Gris-gris knew all the dancers who were supposed to be at the head of the parade. This was a stranger. Immediately, he leaped up and pushed the man in the chest.

  The man staggered back and swung a fist. Gris-gris ducked. As fast as a greased snake, the man turned and reached for Bert's scepter. Bert walloped the man with it; that had to hurt. Gris-gris leaped on his back. He reached into the pocket of his costume for the rope he had brought with him. Griffen had warned him not to use a knife. If he couldn't drive him off, the best thing to do was tie him until the cops could get him. The man bucked like an unbalanced washing machine. Gris-gris held on. He couldn't get the rope around his arms. Instead, he went for the knife hanging in a sheath under his arm. This guy was not going to ruin the parade for Val's brother!

  He plunged the knife into the man's back. The blade went through the costume, but skidded off the skin. The man bellowed, but he was unhurt. That was impossible! He must be wearing a bulletproof vest! Gris-gris was surprised, but he went after the man with everything he had. A couple of punches to the kidneys ought to bring him down. Like lightning, the tall man turned around. His hand seemed to change before Gris-gris's eyes from fingers to talons. He brandished them at Gris-gris. He must have believed that just seeing a hand turn into a claw would scare him, but Gris-gris grinned.

  "That all you got, man?"

  The man plunged one talon into Gris-gris's stomach. Gris-gris gasped, but hung on. He shoved his head upward into the other's chin, then forward into the windpipe. The man staggered, but he recovered fast. The talon came across and gashed Gris-gris through the cheek. He knocked Gris-gris's hands upward, breaking his hold. He grabbed him by the shoulder and hip, lifted him high, and brought him down on the seahorse at the front of the float. Gris-gris moaned. His back hurt him and he couldn't feel his legs. He lay on top of the cardboard boxes, staring at the sky.

  "Gris-gris!" Bert shouted. "Tritons, come and help here! Hey, damm it, let that alone!"

  The captain and lieutenants raced to help, but the big man snapped Bert's arm sharply up and down on the arm of his throne. Bert heard a crack and knew it was the bone. His
hand opened nervelessly. He grabbed for the intruder, but he couldn't reach him. The merman snatched up the scepter and jumped straight for the head of the lead horse, which sent it bucking and whinnying. He vanished under the thrashing hooves. The lieutenants grabbed for him, but he evaded them and leaped over a barrier.

  "How bad are you hurt?" the captain asked.

  "Arm," Bert gritted. The pains shooting through his arm were almost as bad as the humiliation he felt. "Griffen, I lost it. And we have a casualty."

  "Who?" Griffen's voice demanded.

  "My defender. He's valiant as an old-time hero. He's worthy of better. Dammit, I hate to be the weakest link!"

  "Not your fault. What about Gris-gris?"

  Bert's float stopped as stretcher-bearers rushed in from the side. They settled Gris-gris onto a backboard and fastened a collar around his neck. A paramedic in a white tunic came up to see to Bert's arm. One of the lieutenants threw his horse's reins to another and stayed on board to toss necklaces to the crowd. "Medical staff taking him off now. I'm still blocks from Canal Street, Griffen. I didn't have a chance to weave his scepter's power in with the others. I am so sorry."

  Gris-gris signed to Bert. His high-cheekboned face had a gray pallor. Bert's heart went out to him as he leaned over the stretcher. "Don't tell Val. Spoil . . ."

  "I won't. You hear that, Griffen?"

  "I did. You did all you could, Bert. We're dealing with pros." Griffen felt a pang of worry, for Gris-gris, but also for Val. "Melinda?"

  "She won't hear it from me," Melinda's voice insisted. "Just hang on to yours."

  Fifty

  Fafnir was already two hours into its march. Except for worrying about Stoner and the missing scepter, Griffen had been enjoying himself immensely. He had gone through three boxes of throws already, including the special LED dragons. He waved his scepter at everyone. Kids jumped up and down on the curb, yelling for necklaces and doubloons. He threw them in generous handfuls. The cups were a big hit. Everyone who caught one laughed at the slogan and nudged their neighbors.