Dragons deal gm-3

by Robert Asprin

Then he changed his mind.

  "It's not worth it, Peter. Let's get it all over with. One hand, winner take all."

  Peter was surprised, but the idea appealed to him. He nodded slowly.

  "Why not?"

  "You're not serious," Mai said.

  "I am," Griffen said. He had relied upon skill, cunning, courage, and patience, but to win in a single hand required luck. If he didn't have that, none of the others would make a difference in the long run. If he was meant to stay in New Orleans, let the Big Easy prove it to him. "Let's play."

  "Okay, then." Peter sat back with his fingers interlaced behind his head.

  Both of them sounded casual, but they were deadly serious. Mai opened the last new deck and shuffled it crisply. She doled out two cards to each of them and set the deck down.

  Griffen didn't even look at his cards.

  "All in," he said. "I'll match what you are holding."

  "Griffen, no!" Mai exclaimed. "Don't do it like that!"

  "You are joking," Peter said.

  "Not at all," Griffen said. "Absolutely nothing I do now would change what I've been dealt. It's one hand. You have exactly the same chance of winning or losing that I do. It's a major stake. What do you say?"

  The other dragon smiled broadly, showing sharp white teeth. He put his hand down without looking at it. "I agree. Just lay out the other five cards, Mai. No sense in prolonging the agony."

  Griffen held his breath. This was a turning point in his life. Mai flicked out the flop, the turn, and the river facedown, then showed them one by one.

  Three threes and two twos. Griffen laughed out loud.

  "Let's see 'em," Peter said.

  "You first."

  Peter grinned. He flipped over the first card. A king. Then the second.

  Another king.

  "Full house," he said.

  Griffen's heart pounded, but he was trusting to the little voice in his head. He turned over the first card.

  An ace.

  His mouth was dry as he went for the other card. Another ace would cement his victory. There were three more in the deck. He fervently expected, no, hoped, to see one. How badly did the Big Easy want to keep him there? He wanted desperately to stay. He had changed his whole life to be there. Let chance show him that he had made the right decision. He turned the card.

  A three.

  Four of a kind. The only card other than an ace that would make that hand work was right there under his fingers.

  He stared at it in disbelief, then let out a whoop that echoed through the fifteenth floor. Then he sat down in his chair and leaned back, resting his left ankle on his right knee.

  "Gentlemen and lady, get out of my town. I'll know you in the future. I am vetting every player in every game from here on out. I will know if there's a dragon there, in whatever disguise you wear. You can do what you want, but not at any of my tables. Sorry, Peter, this means you, too."

  "Okay, Griffen. Congratulations."

  "We will keep to the agreement," Jordan Ma said though his face twisted as if his mind were carrying on an internal argument. "I will report to the elders that we have failed. You are smart as well as a fine poker player. I am sorry that this was not for pleasure."

  "I found it pleasurable," Griffen said.

  "Me, too," Peter said. He put out a hand. "No hard feelings, I hope?"

  "I wish I could say that," Griffen said. He looked at the hand but decided to shake it anyhow. "Maybe someday."

  "Let us go," Rebecca demanded. "I want to go home. Aaggh! You will have to use your credit card to pay for a taxi, Jordan!"

  "I told you she was too young for this mission," Jordan Ma told Winston Long, as the elevator doors closed on them.

  Griffen stood up and stretched. His muscles felt like lead. He looked at the clock--8:00 p.m. He had been playing for thirty hours straight.

  "Thank you," he said to Mai. "I owe you."

  "You don't," Mai said. "You did it all yourself. It was difficult to be in the same room with them. They have caused me a lot of trouble in the past. They are very tricky. I am surprised that they played the game honestly. I watched for ruses, but they did not use any. It is a compliment to you."

  "I'm glad you didn't tell me that until afterward," Griffen said. "I might have screwed up."

  "I doubt that very much. But it was very satisfying to see you beat them so thoroughly."

  Griffen went into the bathroom and splashed his face. His eyes were red, and his chin was covered in stubble. He came out wiping his face with a towel.

  "Good riddance to Jordan Ma. He can catch a plane to anywhere but here."

  Mai looked smug. "Oh, well, he may make it to the airport, but he is not leaving New Orleans for a while."

  "What? Why not?"

  "I gave him a going-away present. A priceless relic of the Ming Dynasty."

  Griffen looked at her suspiciously. "What kind of 'priceless relic'?"

  "Oh, a dagger. It has a jade hilt in the shape of a dragon, eight-inch blade. Ruby eyes. Utterly beautiful and completely priceless." She grinned up at him sideways. "I called someone I know who went to Jordan's room and hid it in the lining of his suitcase. Oh, and there is a rope matching that which strangled Jesse Lee in the lining of Rebecca's luggage. They will probably sit in the Transportation Safety Administration office cursing my name." Mai smiled, a chillingly bloodthirsty expression. "I am enjoying the thought. They are responsible, after all."

  Griffen returned the smile, uncharacteristically enjoying the sangfroid. "So am I. Do I want to know how you knew that?"

  "No. It is better if you don't."

  Griffen reached into the heap of coins on the table and offered Mai a handful.

  "Are you trying to insult me? I don't do tips."

  "But you do gold." He had seen her eyes glowing the same color as the game went on. "It's a gift for not killing any of them until I could clean them out."

  Mai smiled. She took the coins in her small hands. "Yes. Thank you. I can see why they use them. I would find them impossible to resist." She held one up to her ear. "No, too heavy to use as earrings. Perhaps I will have one set in diamonds for a necklace. As a symbol of your success."

  "Won't you get in trouble now, helping me against them?"

  "If you had lost, it would have been me helping them," she pointed out. "You make your own luck. Even the elders must respect that."

  Griffen nodded. "Will they try again?"

  "Of course."

  "Do you know what the next attempt will be?"

  Mai was silent for a moment, considering her own plans and orders. With Jordan gone, her plan was back on the table.

  "No. I don't know what will come next," she said.

  That was honest but not helpful. Griffen knew then that he did care for her, but as he had told Jordan, he didn't trust her. He smiled. Her eyes twinkled at him.

  "Congratulations."

  "On what?"

  She gestured at the gleaming heap of coins. "You have your first hoard. It is an important day in the life of a young dragon. You did an impressive job. You earned this. It is time to enjoy it."

  "Not yet." Griffen listened for a moment, then leaned out the door. "You can come in now, Jer!"

  Jerome seemed to detach from the frame of a doorway down the hall as if he were part of the molding. "You knew I was here?"

  "Since about five hours ago," Griffen said. "Looking after your investment?"

  "Well, I can't let the big boss go without protection," Jerome said. "What would Mose do if I lost him his replacement after lookin' for so long? My, my, isn't that pretty!" He admired the sprawling heap of gold coins.

  Griffen was conscious again of how much he owed Jerome and Mose and so many other people in New Orleans. He took another handful of the gold disks and let them clink downward onto the tabletop. He gathered them up again and offered them to Jerome.

  "Now, what's that for, Grifter?" Jerome asked, his dark eyes blazing.

  "You've put
up with a lot this last few months. I didn't give you the credence you deserved. I was pretty stubborn. I know I thought I was right, but I was wrong. I admit it. You earned this. Call it a bonus."

  Jerome shook his head. "You get to think you're right once in a while, brother dragon. You didn't have the feelings I did, and truth to tell, there wasn't any other evidence to say that Peter was involved with the troublemakers. So, call it even." He looked down at the handful of coins, and carefully selected one. "Tell you what, I'll take this as a souvenir, but no more. Gold gets to you, changes you. I don't need it."

  "What will you do with the rest?" Mai asked.

  "I don't know. Pay off my debts."

  "But that will take only a fraction of this fortune."

  "Call Mose," Jerome said. "This call he might take. He's got about five hundred places that he puts things he wants to keep for later. Don't tell me which one of them you choose. Don't even trust me. This is too big a treasure to rely on common sense. But it is yours. You may need it one day. I suggest you plant it and forget about it."

  "But what about my debts?"

  Jerome pointed at the gleaming pile. "Sell a few of these and pay your debts. Won't take but a few. I can tell you who'll give you the best price and won't ask too many questions. Then just cache the rest. I promise you won't need it for now. Good job on handling the situation. Mose would be proud. I am, too."

  "Thanks, Jer. That means a lot to me."

  Griffen took his advice. He also set aside one gold coin each for Fox Lisa and Val. Maybe he'd present them as special doubloons from the dragon king.

  It was good to be the king.

  Forty-seven

  " ' Scuse me, dude," said the big blond youth in the Florida State T-shirt. He hoisted what was left of his Hurricane and continued on his stagger up Royal Street.

  Drunk as a skunk at noon on a Sunday. Griffen moaned and blotted liquor from his favorite blue shirt. He had avoided Bourbon completely over the last few weeks, but lately even the side streets were jammed with tourists, all of whom were increasingly more drunk and uninhibited. Almost everywhere in the French Quarter, girls on the wrought-iron balconies were flashing the crowds. Everyone seemed to be wearing hanks of glittering throws and donning masks, crowns, or hats in the three colors of Mardi Gras. Griffen was looking forward to Fafnir's parade. After that, he planned to hide out in his apartment until the stroke of midnight on Wednesday morning, when the street sweepers came out and washed the whole festival away. The entire city had gone crazy. There could be, he mused, too much of a good thing.

  Griffen did not see a single face he knew in the mass, but he had the odd feeling that someone was watching him. He scanned the faces but never caught anyone looking at him. Still, he had learned long ago to trust his instincts. He ducked into the next alley and made a few turns, in case someone was following him. He came out on Decatur, a block north of the Cafe du Monde, but the feeling didn't go away.

  His cell phone rang.

  "Glad to see you're close by," Stoner's voice said. "Why don't you join me for coffee?"

  "No, thanks," Griffen said. "I've got things to do."

  He moved just before the hand caught his elbow. He spun around halfway, and found himself facing a tall, muscular man with a long, rectangular face in khakis and a polo shirt. Stoner's voice squawked tinnily out of the small receiver.

  "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 i
t 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."