Dragons Deal

by Robert Asprin

  Griffen couldn't believe how the corps-style bands could keep playing for hours on end. He would have been exhausted. Etienne said some bands earned as much as two thousand dollars a parade. They were worth more. The flag twirlers were still as perky and energetic as they had been when they set out, even though it was late in the evening.

  The band behind his dragon's-head float played "If Ever I Ceased to Love" over and over in between other popular favorites. The monotonous slow waltz was like a reminder that Stoner was out there somewhere. He could just about feel the other's presence, like a sinister shadow looming. The disaster aboard the Nautilus king float made him think again how vulnerable he was. Bert was riding now with his arm in a quickset cast. Griffen was concerned about him and Gris-gris, but Etienne and Melinda reminded him again and again that his duties lay in what he was doing at that moment.

  He knew how to be a parade king. He had seen enough parades in the week before. He nodded and smiled and threw goodies to the eager crowds. He brandished his scepter, feeling the sensation of heat in the air. He was surprised how much more power there seemed to be than the first day they had wielded the scepters. It was wrong that Stoner had prevented Bert from settling Water's force before he stole the wand from him. Griffen was determined that wouldn't happen to him. Having to be on guard, he almost couldn't enjoy what would be the greatest honor he had ever had, or might ever have.

  "Throw me something, mister!" a little voice cried out from the sidelines. Others joined in. Oh, yes! That was something he was supposed to do.

  He reached for the hooks containing more neat hanks of beads, thousands of them, in every color, and pitched them toward the watchers on the side. The crowd surged forward like goldfish feeding in a pond, snatching at the glittering snakes that flew through the air. Griffen felt the magic spread out. Remember, Etienne had told him, you have plenty. Be generous, Your Majesty.

  He made sure to aim for the children sitting on the top of ladders. The kids caught the offerings with both hands against their chest, their faces full of glee. He plunged a fist into the bucket of doubloons at his side. Like a real king, he spread the largesse to his public. Roars of approval all but drowned out the music behind him.

  "Any sign, Griffen?" asked Melinda's voice in his ear.

  "Not yet," Griffen said. He peered ahead into the lamplit street. They were only half a block from Canal. If Stoner wanted to prevent a second scepter from doing its job, he didn't have long. But Griffen was well protected. He was surrounded on all sides by fellow dragons, in front of him, occasionally dropping back beside him, behind him . . .

  Behind him.

  He had forgotten Stoner's gift of stillness. Suddenly, he felt a cold metal ring touch his neck. He didn't have to look down to know it was a gun.

  "Hand me the scepter, McCandles."

  "You've been back there the whole time, haven't you?" Griffen said. He stared out at the approaching intersection, keeping a smile pinned to his face. The pinball of fire danced in his belly, itching for a fight. Griffen told it to quiet down.

  "The question is immaterial. Give me the scepter."

  "I can't," Griffen said. "If you know what it is, you know why I need to use it."

  "It will create difficulties for my department," Stoner said. "That threatens all of national security."

  "But it leaves this city vulnerable."

  "You can't make yourself responsible for that."

  "It's my home," Griffen said. They were a hundred yards from the intersection. He could feel the waves of power that were left by Holly and Cos. He needed to join to it immediately. He lifted his hand.

  Stoner shot out his hand and grabbed for the scepter. Griffen held on to it with both hands. He realized with a moment's wry humor that the agent was dressed as St. George. He had been hiding behind the curtain concealing Griffen's backup supply of throws. Griffen fell onto his back, trying to break the other man's grip. Stoner brought his other hand around in a chop that made Griffen's wrists tingle, but he turned his shoulder into Stoner's chest. There wasn't time to waste. He had to finish the ritual early, even if it made it less effective.

  "Fire, I call . . ." he began, trying to lift himself to a standing position. Stoner kneed him in the back. Griffen fell to his knees. They grappled with the scepter between them. Griffen felt it turn in his grip. The fire in his belly sang. A wave of heat blasted from the scepter toward the side of the street.

  Children screamed as fire burst out of the windows of the hotel at their back. Emergency crews on the sidelines mustered to move them away from the blaze.

  "You see what kind of danger you are putting your home into? This device must be locked away!" Stoner said.

  Griffen couldn't leave the paradegoers in danger, but he couldn't pull away from Stoner. The agent plunged two fingers into the muscles of his upper arm. His hand went numb. He switched the scepter to his left hand.

  "Melinda!" he choked out.

  "We see it," she said in his ear. "Leave it to us. Valerie and I have this under control."

  "Mr. Griffen, we're comin'!" Etienne's voice announced.

  "Let go now, and I will see to it no charges are filed against you and your colleagues," Stoner offered.

  Griffen was so mad that he could hardly see straight. Ruining the parade, putting thousands of people in danger, when there were other times Stoner could have demanded the scepters. Like at Holly's house. He was furious when he recalled the force that almost crushed them. The pinball jumped up and down, demanding satisfaction. Griffen was inclined to deliver it. He looked straight up into Stoner's face and brandished the golden rod.

  Fire burst from the dragon's mouth and washed the two of them in a crackling blaze. The watchers let out a shout of surprise.

  "What are you doing?" Stoner demanded.

  "Get off my float now, or it goes up," Griffen said. He was aware of the flames. They licked at his costume and hair. He didn't feel his skin burning, but he'd deal with that later. "You can't stop me now."

  The float continued to roll down St. Charles as they battled for possession of the scepter. Stoner held up a hand to protect his eyes. He stabbed for Griffen's Adam's apple with the other hand. The crowd cheered them, thinking it was all part of the act, St. George battling the dragon. Well, this time the dragon would win.

  "This is an obscenity!" Stoner gritted. His sleeve caught fire. He batted it out. "You are in violation of a hundred different laws!"

  "I want to see the official paperwork," Griffen said, fighting to get the words out in the parching heat.

  "Don't be obtuse. You know this is off the books. The government needs the results, but not everything has official sanction."

  "Then get lost," Griffen croaked. "Protecting this city from natural disasters is also in the government's best interests."

  Griffen looked up through the smoke. His eyes watered. He blinked them clear. They were still a hundred feet from the intersection. It was a little premature, but it was his best chance. He staggered to his feet. Stoner swept a leg forward and kicked them out from under him. Griffen turned up the heat. The pinball danced with joy. Tongues of fire blazed up from the floor, hiding Stoner from view. Stoner bellowed in pain. Griffen huddled down with the scepter clutched to him, feeling the cape smoldering on his back. He tried to remember the words of the binding ritual.

  Suddenly, clouds of white hit him from five different points. Griffen gasped as the fire extinguishers played up and down his body. He just saw Etienne grinning at him over a black plastic cone. He was hauled off the float by dozens of hands. He coughed. More hands pounded him on the back. When his eyes cleared, he found himself on the street in a ring of New Orleans police officers. Stoner, too, was surrounded, but he looked less happy about it. Harrison shoved his face into Griffen's field of view.

  "Get back up there, McCandles!" Harrison ordered him. "You've got a parade to finish!"

  "You can't let him go, Detective!" Stoner said.

  "You tellin' me w
hat to do in my own city again?" Harrison exclaimed, rounding on the government agent. "Get up there!"

  Griffen didn't hesitate. He stood up and pointed his scepter to the burning building. A fire truck was parked out front, but its little streams of water would be a feeble aid for a centuries-old wooden structure. Tongues of red began to lick out from under the eaves. The roof would catch any moment.

  "Fire, go out!" he bellowed.

  The fire went out. It seemed to suck away suddenly into another dimension, so swiftly did it vanish. In delighted amazement, Griffen put out the fire on the float just as quickly. He hoped this new talent lasted beyond his involvement with the scepter. It was really useful. The watchers cheered wildly. They were loving the Fafnir parade and all its unexpected special effects.

  Griffen could have cheered, too, as they hauled Stoner away. He could hear Harrison haranguing him all the way to the police van.

  He settled into his throne. Ten yards more to go. He felt the lines of Antaeus and Aeolus intersecting over his head. It wasn't the triple knot he was hoping for, but maybe next year. Now was the time for him to call the energy raised by the first ritual and bind it with the others. The city would be protected from wildfires and explosions, better than Homeland Security could. The government could not be everywhere, but this could.

  "Fire!" Griffen called. He put his entire will into the command. "Come home to me!"

  From all over the city, wild flames flew toward him, out of windows, chimneys, and out of thin air. Dragonfire, fox fire, sparks from gas flames, embers like the ends of burning cigarettes, all sailed toward him. He called to it, not willing to take no for an answer.

  The fire gathered around him like translucent curtains of red and orange. He was already burned from the fire on the float, but though hot, this formed a nimbus around him. The crowd was delighted. They roared their pleasure at what they thought were realistic special effects. A photographer with a huge camera jumped out to take a picture. He threw Griffen a triumphant thumbs-up. Griffen vowed to hunt the man down later and get a copy. But nothing was more important at that moment than doing the job he had been assigned. He held the scepter high like a beacon.

  "I am king of Fafnir, lord of fire. You'll do what I say."

  The sensation of heat closed in on him, protesting, as if to say, "Aw, Dad!"

  And Griffen responded. "I mean it! Calm down! I bind you and order you to lay a shield over the city. And the environs." Whatever that meant, but it was in the ritual. Holly had said it, and so had Matt. In his mind's eye, he saw a sort of old-fashioned, hand-drawn map, all that fire calming down to a warm glow. The pinball inside him faded away to a pinpoint.

  Griffen suddenly felt the weight of the solid gold scepter in his hand. He lowered it. He was exhausted. The job was done.

  A little voice interrupted the haze in his brain.

  "Throw me something, mister!"

  A little black girl sitting on the top of a ladder waved to him, a large man bracing her back. Griffen smiled. He reached into the front of the float, which had been miraculously spared from the conflagration, and pulled out the remaining boxes of throws. He flung a flashing green LED dragon's-head necklace to her. It landed right in her little hands. She shrieked with joy. Griffen kept on flinging.

  The day had been so strange, what with spells and power and mystic binding, it didn't seem to have been real. There was something missing, Griffen knew. The whole experience wouldn't be complete until . . .

  The bands behind him struck up a loud brass fanfare. Yes, there it was: "Second Line." People on the sidelines began to tap their feet in time with the music.

  Griffen was suddenly and thoroughly content with his lot. This was his city. He was king of Mardi Gras, and the world was wonderful. He waved and gestured with his scepter, loving the day and the event, being in the here and now. He understood Zen for the first time.

  He rode the rest of the route in his scorched costume, on his burnt-out chicken-wire shell of a float, throwing doubloons and cups to the eager faces and hands of the crowd. He had nothing left that he had to worry about. Not until the parade ended, anyhow.

  Fifty-one

  "I was amazed those horses didn't panic at the fire!" Melinda shouted over the jazz band's cheerful music as they climbed off the floats when they reached their terminus point on Tchoupitoulas. Buses were waiting to take the riders to the after-party.

  "Dey my hosses, Mrs. Melinda," Etienne said. "Raised 'em all myself. Dey not afraid of no dragon, nor dragonfire. Dey owned by dragon."

  "I can't believe how fast that hotel fire went out," Mai said.

  "It was the scepter," Griffen said. He was glad that Matt had marched in so soon and locked it up again in the case. He was beginning to miss the pinball, which vanished as soon as the scepter was gone. "I'm glad no one was hurt in it."

  "No, and Melinda got everyone organized to soothe the kids," Val said. The marchers from Ladybug, Ladybug were right between our float and hers. She organized them and us maids to soothe the kids, and sent out a volunteer with a whole bucket of doubloons, compliments of the queen. Distracted them right out of the fear." She sent a shy smile to the older woman. "We're going shopping for the baby."

  "Maybe later," Griffen said. He took out his cell phone. "I'm getting us a taxi. We need to go to the hospital first."

  "Are you that badly hurt?" Fox Lisa asked, pulling aside the torn fabric to look at his skin. "You look okay."

  "It's not me," Griffen said.

  Val seemed to read his mind. "Gris-gris? He is hurt? Damn you, Griffen, why didn't you tell me!"

  "He didn't want us to," Griffen said.

  "And you listened to him? I'll go by myself!"

  "I will take you," Mai offered.

  "No, dear," Melinda said, taking her arm and pushing in between Val and the others. "I'll go with you. The rest of you go to the party. You deserve to have some downtime. Go on."

  "Call me when you find out how he is," Griffen said. Val nodded. She was still upset with him. He didn't blame her.

  Griffen saw them into the taxi. Everyone else was slapping one another on the back and swapping stories. The rest of the beer and throws were loaded onto the bus with them.

  The party, thrown by Antaeus, with donations from the other three krewes, was being held in a huge auditorium. A lot of paradegoers who had bought tickets were there to share the fun and dance to the music. Three videographers had a huge flat-screen TV showing raw footage of the parades that they had just shot, complete with audio. It was so loud that Griffen had to put one finger in his ear to get a report from the hospital.

  "Val says that Gris-gris will be okay," he reported to his friends and fellow kings. They were all laden with necklaces and other trinkets from one another's boxes. "He's going to keep the scar on his face. 'It's currency in the Quarter,' he said. Now she's going shopping."

  Bert laughed. His temporary cast was covered with signatures from all four krewes. "I owe Gris-gris a lot for fighting that hard," he said. "He did more than I could to try and stop that man. He was like a supervillain!"

  "At least we got the city protected against three elements," Cos said. "We'll try again next year."

  "It won't be my problem then," Griffen said, cheerfully toasting his fellow kings.

  "But you did it when it matter most," Etienne said. "Dat's why it had to be you, Mr. Griffen."

  "You did a great job," Holly said. "Let me know if you ever want a third girlfriend."

  Griffen found his throat had dried out. "Uh."

  She laughed at him. "Just joking. You're sadly outnumbered as it is." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm looking forward to continuing our fellowship."

  "That was a damned dangerous thing, that ritual," Cos said.

  Etienne nodded. "Coul' been worse. Rest of you was okay, but half the time in my dream, Mr. Griffen didn' get up again after the fire."

  Griffen looked at him aghast. "You mean I could have died?"

  The hybr
id waggled a hand. "It was possible. But it didn' happen. No, sir."

  Griffen sat back in his chair, speechless.

  "Well, that explains a lot."

  "What?"

  He gestured with his drink toward the lieutenants. "Why no one in this group attacked me. I've been warned so many times that dragons either fight their way up the food chain or sign on to someone who has more power than they do."

  "You was the sacrificial king. It wouldn't have worked without you. You did good, Mr. Griffen. All of N'awlins would appreciate it if they knew."

  Griffen gave him a sour look. "Thanks a bunch."

  Etienne smiled. "Well, okay, but would you have said yes if I tol' you everyt'ing I seen?"

  "No!"

  "Then you see why I didn't. Had to be done, and y'all did great." He grinned. "Didn't you have a good time?"

  "Yes, I did," Griffen admitted. He felt a warm feeling over the whole experience. Literally. But a pebble of resentment had taken the place of the pinball of fire in his belly. "I have been used by people for their own purposes since before I got here. I'm tired of being the symbol for the union of dragons. I hated being thrown into situations for which I was not ready. It's no consolation to realize I could rise to the occasion. I have just been too nice to say no, I'm not ready, I'm busy, I'm tired, I'm not interested."

  "But all the opportunities might pass you by," Jerome said.

  "Let them," Griffen said. "I need to learn who and what I am. I know that I am not really everybody's patsy. I just have to stop acting like it."

  Fox Lisa patted his arm. "You've been true to yourself, in the pacts you have made, the promises you have kept."

  "Yes, that is me. But what do I want to do, once I learn who I am?"

  She smiled up at him. "It will be interesting to find out."

  "Oh, you will, Mr. Griffen," Etienne said. "I seen dat, too."

  "When?"

  Etienne shook his head. "Ain't good for ya to know dat," he said. "I'll tell you one day if you gotta know somet'ing."