Dragons deal gm-3

by Robert Asprin

  "Hey, Fred, a drink for my brother!" Val called. The bartender poured out Griffen's usual Irish and pushed it over the bar. Griffen reached for his wallet, but Val forestalled him. "This one's on me, Griffen. You look like you could use it."

  "Thanks, Little Sister," he said. He raised it to her. He felt better. Of all the places he could have been, this was the one closest to a home he had had in a long time. The people there knew his quirks, most of his business, and cared about him. They had accepted him and his sister. It was bittersweet that he had argued with the man he had considered a close friend for many years, only to find out this very year that Jerome was not a human, nor were Griffen and Valerie, that Griffen might be able to make a living at his avocation, that he would meet creatures of legend who lived hidden in plain sight among human beings, and that once in a while people that he had never met tried to kill him. It would have been a lot to take in in a lifetime, let alone a few months.

  "Hey, it's one minute to midnight!" Fred shouted. Everyone turned to look at him. He pointed to the clock. "Let's all count it down! Forty-five! Forty."

  Griffen lifted his glass to Val. "So ends the weirdest year of my life."

  "So far, Big Brother," Val said, hoisting her Diet Coke to him. She patted her abdomen. "Wait until next year. It's going to be weirder still."

  "All together now! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

  Griffen drank the toast, but he didn't believe it. How much weirder could it get?

  Twenty-four

  Matt held Griffen back from entering the function room at the Hyatt Hotel. "You have to wait until you're announced," he said.

  Griffen felt nervous. He had met on a casual basis a few of the committee members whose krewes would be sharing their parade date. They had come over to the den to help the builders with crucial parts of float construction. Griffen and the others had been advised then to stay out of the way, or, as Etienne put it, "observe and learn somet'ing." This was the formal meeting of the elite of the four krewes, a ritual ceremony that had not been held in over sixty years, not since Mose had been king. The other three krewes had temporarily disbanded around the time of the war, too, but had reconstituted over previous decades. All of them had been marching since 1979. No one in Fafnir wanted to talk about why it was the last to begin again. He hoped someone at this meeting would answer his questions.

  Griffen felt dozens of dragons present beyond the curtain. He was also aware of other powerful personalities. At least one other type of supernatural was present. Griffen couldn't put his finger on it, but he had sensed that kind of power at the conclave. If it was someone he had met, he hoped it wasn't one of the troublemakers.

  A lot of the members of Fafnir were present at this reception. They had come to gather around him and shake his hand before going into the main function room to sit down. Apart from its sexist practice of having only men on the committee, men, women, and children of every color and every social class belonged to Fafnir. The one thing they had in common was dragon blood. The heads of committees, the movers and shakers, with the exception of Etienne, had the most, but all of them had a little. The proximity to so many fellow dragons put Griffen's defenses on overload, but he knew kin when he felt it. It was like attending a huge family reunion.

  ". . . The king of the element of fire, Fafnir! Please welcome Griffen McCandles."

  Applause broke out. Matt peeked through the curtain, then clapped Griffen twice on the shoulder. "That's you. Go on!"

  Griffen marched out into the room, head high. Hundreds of people turned to look at him, still applauding. As he had been instructed, he kept his face grave and dignified.

  The audience was not set up to face one end of the room, as was customary. Instead, it had been broken up into four groups divided by aisles arranged in a cross. Griffen spotted Etienne and most of the lieutenants in the seats along the path by which he entered. The captain gave him a cheerful thumbs-up as he passed.

  At the center, Doug was waiting with two men and a woman whom Griffen had never seen before, none of them dragons. He gestured to Griffen to join them. The krewe liaison had a microphone in one hand and gestured with the other like a television evangelist.

  "I welcome you all to the Ritual of the Four Elements. According to ancient charter, for the well-being of the city and the environs of this province of New Orleans, groups representing each of the principal elements of nature are called together to grant their blessings upon the coming season. Prosperity, safety, and goodwill toward all!

  Griffen groaned to himself. He had come across mention of pseudoreligious rites associated with Mardi Gras. Etienne had not given him much information about this meeting, other than it was their first with the other three krewes marching on February 24. The woman standing behind Doug grinned and put out a hand.

  "Holly Goldberg," she whispered. "Sprite of the Krewe of Aeolus." She had round cheeks and hazel eyes, with laugh lines at the corners. Her hair, which fell well below her waist, was dishwater blond, going naturally gray at the temples. Griffen guessed she was in her forties. She had a solid grip.

  "Griffen McCandles."

  "This is Costain Wrayburn and Bert Leopold." The other two shook hands with Griffen. Wrayburn was tall, burly, muscular but running to fat, probably in his early fifties. His hair, while still black, clung in a scanty tonsure around a pink scalp. Griffen guessed that he had played football, in school if not professionally. He held himself like an athlete. Bert Leopold had small features but a lantern jaw. His eyes were brilliant green, his tightly curled hair reddish brown and shot with gray. His tawny skin was so weathered Griffen could not guess his age. He could have been anything between thirty and ninety.

  "It is a great privilege for me to be here today. This ritual has not been performed in over sixty years. It is only now that Fafnir has been reestablished that all four groups can be brought together again. The need to renew the city's protections is always great, but never more than lately, when this great nation has been under attack by hostile forces, both natural and human."

  "Humans are natural," Wrayburn growled under his breath. It sounded like an old gripe of his.

  ". . . Therefore, we begin the process to protect our home. Step forward, the Kings of the Elements!"

  Griffen took a pace. He felt like Harry Potter, but this time his name was in the cup on purpose. The audience cheered.

  "Now, before we begin," Doug cautioned them, "you must vow to keep the secret of what you are about to behold. Parents, you know if your children are capable of understanding what that means. If not, please take them out now."

  No one moved. Doug nodded over the heads of the audience. The people standing by the doors locked them. Griffen felt the hum of voices take on an ominous tone.

  "Okay, then, Matt?"

  Matt came out from behind the curtain near the east door with a large box like a metal suitcase. It was gilded and ornamented in the style of the Louis kings of France.

  "Do you all solemnly swear to keep secret and never tell any living soul the rites you are about to witness? Do you promise to uphold and protect the devices and elements of the Ritual of the Four Elements? Signify now by saying, 'I swear.' "

  The audience echoed. "I swear."

  "All righty, then." Matt hoisted the box into his arms and presented it to Doug. Doug opened it.

  "Oooooh," chorused the crowd.

  Griffen reeled backward. He felt as if he had been hit with a two-by-four. The power that had been contained within the case was overwhelming. His eyes filled with tears. So did Holly's. The other two men, though they looked impressed, merely investigated the contents of the box with interest.

  Nestled into folds of golden velvet perishing with age were four golden objects. Griffen could not easily define them. In shape and size they were like extralong pancake turners, except the paddle part of each had been wrought into a different fantastic shape. Griffen figured out immediately which belonged to what element. Air was rendered
as the outline of many overlapping silver-gilt clouds, dusted with glittering blue crystals. The mountain shape at the top of Earth had dark red and grass green crystals. A glistening bubble dotted with aqua and moss green was Water. And Fire . . . Griffen felt his own eyes glow. The stylized flame of the top almost seemed to flicker because of the red and gold crystals set around the edge and licking upward from the handle in lines like living fire. He reached for it. Holly's hand snapped up and slapped his down. He looked at her in shock. She winked at him. Griffen withdrew it sheepishly.

  Doug continued his narration. "These scepters will be yours to wield during the parade, when we charge you to set your element in order. This custom began overseas centuries ago and came over with the European founders of this city. For the protection of all, for the good of all, you must first raise the power of your element in the coming days so there will be sufficient to bind on the destined day, so by the time of penance, known as Ash Wednesday, this city and its environs will know security for another year or," he added, with a grin, "another sixty." The audience chuckled. "We-all don't intend that the next one will be that long after this."

  "This is all purely ceremonial, of course," Griffen said.

  Wrayburn smiled gravely at him. "No, Griffen. This is for real."

  "Earth, our mother, the base under our feet, she who sustains us, and to whom our bodies belong, take your scepter."

  Costain Wrayburn grasped the mountain wand and hoisted it over his head. The onlookers cheered. Doug shushed them.

  "Hold it to the end, folks. Water, from which life emerged, the pathway and artery of our city, take your scepter. Air, the breath and the wind, guardian of music and flight, take your scepter." As Doug spoke, the next two assumed their devices. "Fire, the divine spark, the power of the sun brought down to us mere mortals, take your scepter." Griffen reached for the last rod in the box and raised it to the cheers of the audience.

  As soon as his fingers closed on it, Griffen gasped. Instead of holding the wand, it seemed to take hold of him. A warm force radiated into his flesh, racing down his arm, into his body. It spread out to his head and feet. Finding nowhere else to go from there, it felt like it was shooting around inside him like a pinball banging from paddle to ringer to target, except the pinball was made of lava. Holly reached over and put her hand on his forehead. A cool sensation spread out from her palm.

  "Calm," she said. "Control it. Don't let it control you."

  Griffen had tried meditation a few times in his life, never seriously, but he knew techniques. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. The pinball slowed down. It stopped ricocheting around and rolled gently up into a spot just behind his solar plexus. He was aware of it, but it no longer hurt. His head rang as if counting up the points. Griffen opened his eyes. They weren't burning anymore.

  Holly took her hand away. "That's better."

  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 a
bout 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."