Dragons Wild

by Robert Asprin

  “Nothing really. It’s only been mentioned in passing, I’m honestly surprised I remembered the name. From what I can tell, it’s something between supercharisma and the Jedi mind trick.”

  “Okay, give me a moment, this isn’t going to be easy.”

  Mose leaned back in his chair and half closed his eyes in thought. Every once in a while his lips would purse, as if he were trying on a word for fit. Griffen watched, his curiosity growing. None of his questions so far had required quite this level of thought. He wondered why this one topic was so different.

  “Glamour is a tricksie thing,” Mose said finally.

  “Tricksie?” Griffen couldn’t help himself.

  “Back off, we’re talking about glamour for crying out loud. Just be glad I’m not going to bring elves and fairies into the damn mix.”

  “Good…I don’t think I want to know.”

  “Me neither. And that’s part of the problem. I don’t do glamour; I don’t know many who do. It’s not anything as simple as your growing scales or fire breathing.”

  “Simple?”

  Griffen didn’t try to keep the irony and sarcasm out of his tone. His experience with such powers had been all involuntarily, and down right awkward. Hearing it referred to as simple added to his frustration. Mose narrowed his eyes.

  “Yeah, simple. Look, things like that, it doesn’t matter much how it happens. As long as you know how to trigger it. Like your muscles, does it matter the chemical exchange that makes one tighten and another loosen so your arm bends? Not really, as long as you can bend your arm at will, and instinctually if in danger.”

  “And glamour is different?”

  “Yeah, it is. There are a handful of powers out there…well, that doesn’t matter just now. Glamour is all about perception. Part of it is the dragon’s natural charisma. But that becomes augmented, and just how depends on the person who’s doing it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, to be blunt, I don’t think I could teach you glamour if I tried, I’m not even sure you could manage it. Because part of it is a lie to the victim, but another part is lying to yourself. And lying to yourself on purpose is a tricky business. You have to believe what you are making them believe, but, of course, a part of you knows it’s just the magic. You can see the pitfalls in that?”

  “I think I need a drink; I almost understood that.”

  “Yeah, pour us both one. And remember, this ain’t exactly my area. I’m passing on thirdhand knowledge at best.”

  Griffen got up and poured the drinks. As he passed one to Mose, he raised his in silent toast and they both drank. Griffen sighed as he sat back in the chair.

  “I would never have believed I’d run into something that made fire breathing seem simple,” he said.

  “You’re still young; you’ll run into a lot more,” Mose said. “In the oldest legends glamour and illusion were almost the same. One could be made to see monsters and nightmares and all sorts of things. Though I haven’t heard of anything like that in the modern world, so it’s probably just myth.”

  “Okay, this is all very confusing. Let’s get back to basics; how can you counter it? Does just knowing it is happening act as defense? Or does it take more.”

  “Knowing what’s going on helps, and can keep you protected against casual leakage. But against a direct attack, it takes a bit more. Glamour of your own is the best. But really all you need is an exertion of will to reassert your personal perspective.”

  “Which is done how?”

  “Well, for you, you could probably just think hard. But actually this is where some of the old legends about counter curses and protective charms pop up from. You can use an object, some words, or even a hand gesture to focus your will behind. A physical reminder of what you are doing.”

  “Oh, great, psychic cue cards.”

  “Something like that. Also, if you are real good, with the physical aide you can disrupt them entirely. Their own lie falters, so if they are spreading their attention and affecting a room a little push from you can free the whole group. But it’s harder if they are just focused on one individual.”

  “Could glamour be used to force someone to kill another?”

  “Not that I know of, at least not if that killing goes against the person’s deepest nature. Again, the old legends…well, you might trick someone into thinking the person they were killing was someone or something else. Still, I think that’s pure myth, though.”

  “I’m finding this real hard to believe,” Griffen said.

  “But it fits what you’ve already suspected,” Mose said.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it does. I think Valerie’s taken up with someone who’s more than he seems.”

  “Huh, well, maybe I could take a look at her; see if she’s under a ’fluence.”

  “From what you’ve said, only a few people have serious talent at this, even in dragon circles. Any idea who might be targeting Valerie?”

  “Too early to say, I might know better when I see her. It’s such a style thing that if I’ve seen their work before I’ll recognize it.”

  “And can I use my will to break her hold?”

  “Yes and no, you can help, but with a dragon of her stature, you will also have to teach her how to break it. As soon as it comes from within, everything that he has laid on her should crumble like a badly made house of cards.”

  “Good.”

  “One more thing, Griffen, and this is purely from what I’ve heard. If I had a guess, touch would amplify it. Don’t ask why, pheromones directly, a direct channel to the psyche, I don’t know. But keep your guard up. Story goes, when two glamour users touch and go to war, the effects on the loser are devastating.”

  “How devastating?”

  “Well, the loser is pretty much stripped of his will, and the winner’s own is imposed directly.”

  Mose paused and sipped his drink, and a small tremor ran through his body. If Griffen didn’t know any better, he would have thought the man was afraid.

  “This here being New Orleans. Ever heard of zombies?”

  Forty-seven

  It was Monday night. Actually, it was twelve thirty in the morning on Tuesday, but by Quarter reckoning that was still Monday. As was becoming his habit on Mondays when there wasn’t a game on the schedule, Griffen set aside the night to watch a movie or three on DVD.

  The reason for this was simplicity itself. Officially, new DVDs were released nationally every Tuesday. The Quarter, being the Quarter and fiercely competitive for every dollar, had devised a way around this rule. Both the major multimedia stores in the Quarter, Tower and Virgin, stayed open until one in the morning on Mondays, allowing them to sell the new releases to the late-night Quarterites that didn’t want to wait until the next day.

  Griffen had done his shopping this week at Tower. Even though it was a couple blocks farther from his complex than Virgin, they often had better prices. There was also a better selection of the old movies that he traditionally favored.

  Walking along the riverside of Decatur Street, he mentally reviewed his selections with no small degree of self-satisfaction. Of particular pleasure was finding the old Danny Kaye movie, The Five Pennies, on DVD. Ever since stopping in to listen to Steamboat Willie and his band play in an open-air bar on Bourbon Street, Griffen had been slightly nostalgic for the old big-band sound, and this movie about Red Nichols was just the thing to satisfy that craving.

  As he walked, however, he slowly became aware that someone was behind him. Whoever it was neither fell back nor closed the distance, but seemed content to match his pace. That in itself was noteworthy, since, as a transplanted Northerner, Griffen tended to walk faster than most of the leisurely strollers in the Quarter.

  His recent experiences had made him wary, so he decided to try one of the techniques Padre had coached him on to check a tail. Pausing in midstride, he set down his bag of DVDs and stooped down, loosening and retying his shoelace. The follower didn’t stop, closing the gap bet
ween them. Reclaiming his purchases, Griffen straightened and looked back. The approaching figure was instantly recognizable.

  “Hey, Slim,” he said. “How’s it going?”

  “Actually, I was kinda lookin’ for you, Mr. Griffen,” the street entertainer said. “Can we talk for a few? Maybe over by the river?”

  A small alarm sounded in Griffen’s mind.

  “I’m sort of in a hurry,” he said casually. “Can we do it another time?”

  “It’s really important,” Slim said, his voice flat.

  Griffen stared at him for a long moment.

  “Do we have a problem, Slim?” he said.

  “That’s what I want to find out,” the entertainer said. “Shall we?”

  He gestured toward the Moonwalk.

  Griffen continued to hesitate.

  “You know, Slim,” he said carefully, “I haven’t had much luck with surprise meetings lately.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that,” Slim said. “But I ain’t no damn dope dealer ambushing you. I’m coming to you head on and axing to talk.”

  Griffen made his decision.

  “Lead on,” he said, gesturing for Slim to precede him.

  The two men walked through the parking lot beside the Jackson Brewery, now a small shopping center of stores, crossed the railroad and cable-car tracks, and emerged on the Moonwalk by the paddle wheeler, Natchez, silent and deserted at this hour.

  Slim motioned for Griffen to sit on one of the benches lining the Moonwalk, while he himself stood staring at the river and the tour boat. After a minute or two passed, Griffen began to grow restless.

  “So. What can I do for you, Slim?” he said, breaking the silence.

  “I’ve been hearing a lot about you, Mr. Griffen,” Slim said, not turning around. “Some of it good. Some, not so good. Been watching you myself trying to figure you out, but I can’t make up my mind. I’ve finally decided to talk with you direct.”

  The man turned and faced Griffen, his arms folded across his chest.

  “What is it you’re doin’ in my town, Mr. Griffen?”

  “I thought that was common knowledge,” Griffen said. “Mose has asked me to take over his gambling operation, and he and Jerome have been teaching me the ropes.”

  “And what else?” Slim pressed.

  “Might I ask, first, what your interest in all this is?” Griffen countered.

  Slim gave him a smile that held no humor at all.

  “Take a look over your shoulder and figure it out yourself.”

  Griffen turned slowly in his seat and looked back.

  Rats! Twenty…no, closer to thirty of the large wharf creatures were arrayed in a loose half circle with him at the focal point. They weren’t snuffling around or foraging for food. Instead, they were sitting silently and staring at him.

  A totally inappropriate thought flashed through Griffen’s mind—he was glad he hadn’t picked up the remake of Willard on DVD.

  With an effort, he broke off his examination of the animals and turned back to Slim.

  “So,” he said. “You’re one of those. The animal control people or hoodoos or whatever.”

  The street entertainer grimaced.

  “Never did like that name,” he said. “We aren’t really a group. We don’t have meetings or conduct rituals or anything. We’re just a few people with the same skills who know each other. Can’t rightly see why anyone would want to try to take us over.”

  “Me neither,” Griffen said. “Least of all, me. I’ve got enough on my plate already.”

  “That ain’t exactly the way it was told to me,” Slim said.

  “Yeah. I heard that someone had given you folks some cock-and-bull story about my having a hidden agenda,” Griffen said. “Well, I’m telling you, man to man, that I have no interest in controlling your group or trying to use it in any way. I might like to sit down and talk with you someday, but that’s pure curiosity. If you didn’t want to share your secrets, well and good. That’s your call.”

  “Uh-huh,” Slim said. “Of course, that’s what you’d say if you were hatching some kind of plan.”

  “So, what am I supposed to do to prove it?” Griffen said. “I’m already doing nothing. I haven’t even tried to contact any of you, much less cozy up to anyone.”

  “Isn’t that what I told you before?”

  Both men turned. Rose was sitting on the next bench. Neither man had seen her approach.

  To say the least, Griffen was relieved to see her.

  “Are you in this, Rose?” Slim said. “Are you taking his side?”

  “Don’t need to,” Rose said. “The man’s a dragon, and a strong one. He doesn’t need any help from me.”

  Suddenly, Griffen was less relieved.

  “Well then, have you maybe got an idea ’bout how we can resolve this?” Slim said.

  “I’ve been thinking on it,” Rose said. “Seems to me the only way Griffen here can convince you that he’s not after you folks is for him to prove to you that he doesn’t need you.”

  “And just how is he supposed to do that?” Slim said.

  Rose turned her attention directly on Griffen for the first time that night.

  “Show him,” she said.

  Griffen blinked and cocked his head at her.

  She gave him a small wink and nodded her head.

  He turned his attention on the rats.

  They moved forward in a loose line, passed under the bench he was sitting on filtering by his feet, then stopped in their original formation…but halfway between Griffen and Slim with their eyes focused on the entertainer.

  Slim moved back a step. The rats followed.

  The entertainer looked at Griffen and nodded slowly. Griffen nodded back.

  Suddenly the rats scattered, disappearing into the shadows and over the edge of the pier.

  Silence reigned for a long minute. Then Slim stepped forward and held out his hand.

  “I appreciate your takin’ the time to speak with me, Mr. Griffen,” he said as they shook hands. “If you’d like to talk about this further sometime, I’ll be happy to exchange information with you.”

  Turning, he walked away down the Moonwalk without looking back.

  “How did you know I was strong enough to do that?” Griffen said after the entertainer had gone. “I’ve never tried anything like that before.”

  “I didn’t know for sure,” Rose said. “I knew Mose had been working with you, though, and it seemed like a good time to see how far you had developed.”

  She stood up and started to walk away, then turned back.

  “You know, don’t you, that this isn’t the real problem,” she said. “The big question is who pointed these folks at you and why.”

  “Mose is working on it,” Griffen replied.

  “Tell him to work harder.”

  Forty-eight

  “I miss the cards,” Griffen said.

  “Who are you kidding, lover, you are just fighting the urge to stack up the dominos and knock them down like a kid,” Fox Lisa teased from his left side, carefully arranging her hand.

  “He is, isn’t he? I’m amazed you’ve lasted this long, lover,” Mai put in from his other side.

  The two women paused a moment to narrow their eyes at each other, as they seemed to do every time one of them used that pet name for Griffen. But they were too busy smirking to hold it long.

  “If everyone is done over there?” Mose said.

  He was sitting opposite Griffen at the table, and was amused as hell by the whole setup.

  “All right,” Mai said looking at the hands. “Griffen loses outright, Fox pushes, and Mose wins. Again. You’ve got to be cheating.”

  “How could I cheat? You brought the dominos.” His eyes twinkled.

  The group was at Griffen’s apartment and playing pai gow, or rather learning it under Mai’s careful instruction. Though usually it was played with more, Mai had handled the invites. That had triggered a few warning bells in Griffen’s h
ead, but he was glad that Mose was getting a chance to look her over. He wanted advice later on the whole situation with the Eastern dragons. Tonight, though, dragon talk was kept to a minimum. Mainly because of Fox Lisa’s presence. Instead, they talked gambling, and played.

  Each hand used, instead of cards, four Chinese dominoes, with pairs being made and scored. To win, both pairs in a hand had to meet the dealers pairs, but a “push” was achieved if the front hand, or lower scored pair, beat the dealer’s front hand but the rear hand, the other pair, lost. Then the player broke even. If neither pair beat the dealer’s, as in Griffen’s case, it was an outright loss and away went his money. Mose was building quite a stack of Griffen’s money, and enjoying it.

  Mai dealt the next round, and went through a brief reminder of the Gee Joons, Gongs, Wongs, and pairs. Griffen watched the shuffling of the tiles, which was itself intricate and fairly ritualistic, and once again failed to remember the pattern. He just hoped he never had to play dealer for out of town gamers. In a lot of ways, he felt like he was back in school again.

  Well, except in school, he hadn’t ever been between two such interesting and unpredictable women. He was getting damn confused by all the mixed signals floating around—between the gentle teasing, the taunts at each other, and the occasional wandering hand under the table. He also had them laughing about him over his head, helping each other cheat him out of money, and pulling Mose into their act when he made any serious mistakes. He should have run when he found out that Mai had arranged the seating.

  “Fan-tan was easier. Let’s go back to that,” he said.

  “No way, Grifter, it’s easy because it’s far too close to pure chance. I like a little strategy,” Fox Lisa said.

  “Besides, you need to learn this, at least well enough that you can fake it,” Mai said.

  “And you quit too easily sometimes, youngster. Stick that chin up for another blow and put more of your money on the table.”

  Mose’s eyes shone more and more. With Griffen as a convenient target, he could lean back and enjoy things completely. The ladies were having far too much fun tormenting him. Fox Lisa leaned over and poked the bills Griffen pulled out and put on the table. She winked at Mose.