Dragons Luck

by Robert Asprin

  “Drop the ‘please.’ You really need to learn to throw your weight around more,” Flynn said. “Especially if you hope to keep control of this conclave.”

  “Still not sure how much control a moderator has or is supposed to have.”

  “It’s always better to be in control. And it’s always easier to start from a position of control and power than to try to scramble for one when you need it.”

  “Yeah but—”

  Griffen got cut off as Flynn lined his cue up and broke.

  The eight went in the pocket.

  Griffen stood there, stunned.

  “Another?” Flynn said, exuding confidence while keeping his voice bland and innocent.

  Griffen had seen eights sink on the break before. It took both skill and luck, and was something he had never pulled off before. It wasn’t usually repeatable. Usually.

  “See,” Flynn said, “now I’m working from a position of power. It makes you hesitate because you aren’t sure just how much power. If you come on strong, others toe the line. Especially if they are already nervous about dealing with a dragon.”

  Griffen nodded and began to rack again.

  “And what’s to keep them from seeing you as a bully?” Griffen said.

  “Why should you care? Beyond it doesn’t matter how they see you. If bullying is what it takes to get the job done, why look for a weaker tool?”

  Griffen didn’t have an answer but didn’t like the question. Flynn broke again, this time nothing fell, and Griffen stepped up to the table.

  “Why would the other groups out there be so worried about a dragon trying to take them over?” Griffen said.

  “They are afraid. Fear makes them stupid. They know dragons could rule if we chose to, and don’t think to ask why we should bother,” Flynn said.

  “You really see them as that much less?”

  Griffen had a three-ball run, then missed. Flynn stepped up to the table.

  “Why wouldn’t I? Shifters, spooks, spell slingers. They don’t have anything we don’t have, and none of them have our power or variety.”

  “But within their own sphere aren’t they stronger? Can you take all the different animal forms a chimera can?” Griffen said.

  Flynn had a four-ball run, but miscued when Griffen asked that question.

  “No, but then I never really got into shape-shifting. I like myself as I am.”

  “What about the fairies, the changelings? I haven’t heard about what they can and can’t do.”

  “They are letting those nuts in this year? I didn’t know their standards had gotten that lax. Those aren’t fairies, not really. Oh, they claim they are part of them, but have no proof. In fact, I’ve never seen or heard of any real evidence there are fairies,” Flynn said.

  Griffen was down to the eight, but the shot was lousy. A bank into the side pocket was his best bet. He missed.

  “Okay, the changelings, then. What can they do?”

  “Well . . . okay, you’ve got me on that one. From what I’ve heard on rumor, they have a wide range of powers, but each one has its own unique gifts and styles. Only no one has any proof on whether the stuff is real or some form of hypnosis or illusion. You know the old legends of fairy gold turning to trash in the morning? Same deal. The effects don’t often seem to last.”

  “Often?”

  “Again, there are rumors of more, but nothing I would put any credit into. Plus everything I’ve heard says they only have limited control over their powers. Kind of flighty and undisciplined. Shouldn’t be too much trouble for you.”

  Griffen watched as Flynn put ball after ball away. Including—eventually—the eight. Griffen winced and felt his bank account shrink by another big hunk.

  “Another?” Flynn asked.

  “Double or nothing?” Griffen said, voice strained.

  “Now, why would I let you off the hook that easy? Then you wouldn’t learn anything.”

  Flynn grinned, and Griffen found himself racking again. Flynn broke, and again nothing fell. Griffen began to shoot.

  “Okay, since my ‘consultant fees’ are mounting up. I’ve been a little worried about security. I can only be in so many places at once. What if something goes wrong?”

  “You’ve got a crew, don’t you?”

  Griffen winced again, thinking back to his talk with Jerome.

  “Let’s just say they are busy elsewhere.”

  “Hmm . . . remember what I said about throwing your weight around? If you are the head dragon, you need to act like it.”

  Griffen had run the table. He was aiming on a fairly easy shot on the eight.

  “Didn’t I hear a rumor about you and some drug dealers?” Flynn asked.

  Griffen miscued, and came close to scratching.

  Flynn smiled and stepped back up to the table.

  “Only a brief incident,” Griffen said. “Why?”

  “Well, seems in this town they would be ideal. Good for thug work. Let’s face it—expendable. And not likely to talk about any weirdness they might see, not to anyone who matters and will listen anyway.”

  “I really don’t think I want to end up owing anything to that lot.”

  “So make it a cash deal up front, no favors or anything,” Flynn said.

  “Well . . . if things got desperate . . . maybe,” Griffen said dubiously.

  Flynn scratched with two balls left on the table.

  “Damn!” he said.

  Griffen took the cue and very carefully lined up his shot. He looked at Flynn to see if he was going to speak, then checked his shot again. Much to his relief, he made it.

  “Only other option would be some type of tag or mental tracer. An amulet or coded ID badges or something like that,” Flynn said, and began to put his stick back.

  “Don’t you want another game?” Griffen said.

  “Nope. Always quit while you’re ahead, kid. ‘Thus endeth the lesson.’ ”

  Griffen watched Flynn leave the bar. He couldn’t bring himself to be too angry. Back in school he had pulled similar stunts when playing cards.

  He never realized just how it felt.

  Nineteen

  “You sure are limber.”

  Val jumped. She had been sitting out in the courtyard of her apartment complex, thinking of not very much in particular. It was sunset, fading slowly to night. For once her shift at work had been busy, and she had been enjoying the solitude and a little downtime. Only when she had sat down, no one had been in the complex but her.

  She looked around, and a figure slipped out from behind a tree. It was a small woman, slim and attractive. She flowed as she moved, every step natural and smooth, a kind of roll to her hips that would have made Val feel awkward. Then she smiled, and even in the dim light Val recognized that grin.

  “You!”

  Val stood quickly as she recognized the woman who had tried to run her over. This was the first time she had seen her when the woman wasn’t behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. She looked dangerous, deadly. Something about her made Val’s heart beat a little faster. Perhaps it was those eyes.

  They were broken, it was the only word Val had for them. Like stained glass smashed and crushed together. Shining as if backlit and filled with malevolence. Eyes that swept up and down her, appraising, judging, . . . hating.

  “Wow, you are bigger than I thought. A real cow.”

  “Why, you little pips—” Val started.

  “Little, honey—the Statue of Liberty is ‘little’ compared to you.”

  Val was throwing a punch before she had even thought about it, long legs rushing her forward as her fist drove for the woman’s nose.

  The hit never landed. She moved so fast Val couldn’t track. It was like trying to punch a single raindrop. The woman crouched, Val’s swing whizzing over her head. She straightened then, and gave a little push to Val’s elbow that twisted the momentum of her missed punch and whirled her about, wrenching her shoulder.

  “Who knew my brother had such a
thing for livestock?” Lizzy said, looking Val over from behind.

  Val started to turn back to Lizzy, only to jump again. The smaller woman had moved forward, and now was pressed against Val’s back. Her hand was very firmly squeezing Val’s ass.

  “Mmm. Tender, though. Bet you’d taste good with a little seasoning,” Lizzy said.

  Val growled and swung back around, trying to bring her hand down like a hammer onto Lizzy’s head. Lizzy stepped to the side and, with a fluid, circular motion, gripped Val’s wrist and added to her momentum, driving Val’s own fist into her thigh.

  Val yelped with pain as her muscles spasmed, leg almost buckling on her.

  Lizzy laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever seen, and her laughter matched her eyes. It was broken, lilting up and down the scales randomly. She actually clasped her hands over her belly as if trying to contain it.

  “Oh oh ha! All that strength and only the bittiest little training. I thought this was going to be fun!”

  Her face instantly shifted from mirth to anger, as if a light switch had been thrown.

  “You . . . SIT!”

  The short woman jabbed two fingers into Val’s breastbone, and the force of the blow was staggering. Val found herself stumbling backward, only to crash into one of the chairs. She sat there, stunned, gasping for breath.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through!?”

  “What—” Val gasped.

  “Shut it! I’m rantin’ here! Girl doesn’t know when to listen to her betters, does she? Stupid cow.”

  Lizzy began to pace back and forth, gesturing wildly as she spoke. She only looked at Val occasionally, and seemed to be talking to an audience, or to herself, or some combination thereof.

  “Came all the way down here. Used up all my emergency cash. Couldn’t use the credit cards. Oh no, of course not, Mumsy watches those accounts, doesn’t she? Likes to know where her favorite little girl is. All because you and my idiot brother think you can replace me. You can’t! You won’t!”

  “What brother?” Val snapped, regaining some of her composure.

  “It doesn’t shut up, does it!”

  Lizzy looked back at Val, and her eyes flashed. They seemed almost to swirl.

  “Nathaniel, you stupid. Who else have you been bumping headboards with? Wait, no, don’t answer that. I so very much don’t want to know. Ugh. And it took me days to find you. Days! What kind of person lives in New Orleans and never walks down Bourbon Street?”

  “Shows what you know. Most locals don’t bother with it,” Val said.

  Lizzy went still. A moment ago she had been all motion, now she could have been a statue. Her gaze bored into Valerie.

  Then, slowly at first, she began to change. She stretched, expanded, till she was as tall as Valerie. Even her clothes seemed to change with her, though Val was pretty sure that was just their cut.

  She changed again, milky white scales spreading over her skin. They flowed like water. Iridescent, catching the light and tossing it back like moonstone. Her tongue flicked out, long and forked.

  Then again. And in a moment Valerie was looking at an exact copy of herself.

  “I can be anything I want. You are already dead, but if you piss me off, I’ll use your own form to rape your brother. So shut it.”

  Val quivered with rage, and the armrests of the chair snapped in her hands. Lizzy nodded and smiled at the display, and shifted back into her own form.

  “No one knows I’m here. No one is gonna know. They don’t let Lizzy have her fun, especially not if she plans on breaking her brother’s toys,” Lizzy said.

  Val surged toward her again, swelling in size as she went. Lizzy seemed shocked by the motion, perhaps thinking Val properly cowed. Either way, Val’s fist cracked into her stomach, a fist nearly the size of a football.

  “I am no one’s toy,” said Val.

  Lizzy fell, and Val was on her. She struck her twice more before Lizzy began to block. Val managed to grab one of her wrists, and slammed her hand into her face, going down on one knee and trying to pin her smaller opponent.

  Then Lizzy smiled, blood running from her smashed nose.

  “Oh, good, you can be fun!”

  Lizzy shrank. So suddenly and rapidly that she slipped free from Val and slipped behind her in an instant. With Val having gained size and Lizzy losing it, she was now less then half as big as Val. She grinned and slammed her foot into the small of Val’s back, sending her flying through the air.

  Val twisted in midair, instincts panicking, and cradled her stomach as she fell.

  Lizzy stood still as rock again, nostrils flaring.

  “No.”

  Val didn’t have time to react as Lizzy jumped at her. She grabbed Val by the hair and by the throat and smashed her head back into the ground. Val’s vision blurred, and she found herself staring up into Lizzy’s eyes.

  “Let me see . . .” Lizzy said, glaring downward.

  Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared again. She jumped back from Val and held her fist up to her mouth, looking like a shocked little girl.

  “I’m gonna be an auntie?!” she said, her tone a mix of shock and confusion.

  Val staggered to her feet.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Val said.

  “Sure you don’t. Only person I ever saw that worried ’bout their stomach in a fight was Mum when she had Thor on board.”

  Lizzy rushed at her, and Val braced herself, ready to fend off another attack. The last thing she expected was to be hugged about the waist and lifted into the air. Lizzy swung her back and forth, dancing from foot to foot.

  “Yeeehee, I’ve never been an aunt!” Lizzy said.

  And just like that she again dropped Val, who landed heavily on her rear. Val could only sit blinking as she watched the other woman’s face go through a dozen emotions in an eyeblink. From joy to confusion to black anger.

  “Oh, this is so . . . I don’t know what . . . I should kill you both... but.. I...”

  Lizzy seemed lost in thought. Val reacted; she grabbed up a nearby flowerpot and stood, slamming it into the side of Lizzy’s head. It smashed against her skull.

  Lizzy blinked, still standing and seemingly unfazed as dirt and broken pottery fell from her hair. Val noticed that her nose had healed.

  “You know, if you are going to fight other dragons, you need to learn how to make the right kind of claws,” Lizzy said, voice suddenly completely calm.

  She reached out and slapped Val, not as hard as she had been hit before, but there was a splash of blood. Val stepped back, hand flying to her cheek. Three short tears marred it.

  Lizzy lifted a hand that was now tipped in talons, like a hawk’s. But each bladed claw seemed rough. Val couldn’t get a good look as they shifted away, back to dainty fingers and manicured nails. Lizzy sucked the blood from her fingers absentmindedly, as if she didn’t realize what she was doing.

  “This changes things, but I don’t know how yet. When I decide, you’ll be the first to know,” Lizzy said.

  Val didn’t know what to do. She was still so angry, but she wasn’t stupid. She had no idea what she could do to faze, much less stop, this madwoman. Lizzy walked past her, heading toward the door out of the complex.

  “Oh yeah,” Lizzy said without looking back. “No one can know I’m here. Tell anyone—anyone!—and you’ll force my hand.”

  She actually waved as she left. Val just kept staring, hand still held to her cut cheek.

  She had never thought of the possibility of an insane dragon.

  Twenty

  Flynn was very pleased.

  So far, everything had gone just as anticipated. In fact, things seemed to have been going a bit smoother than he planned. He had half worried he would have to have Mose removed before Griffen would open up to him. Only to find that the boy’s current mentor had been distancing himself.

  As far as Flynn was concerned, he had set Griffen’s course perfectly. The chances wer
e good he would self-destruct. Especially if he actually believed Flynn’s ideas and tried to do something as foolish as ally himself with the local drug dealers. Humans, no matter how tough they were with other humans, were just not equipped to monitor a supernatural conclave.

  Even if Griffen didn’t self-destruct, he should lose control of his friends and supporters. He was too young, too inexperienced to wield power without being a bully. What a quaint term, “bully.” As if the world were some child’s sandbox. If Griffen survived, he would soon be looking for a new home. And Flynn would be ready to extend an invitation to California, complete with job offer. Now that he had set the lad on a path to power.

  Hell, after that little pool game, Griffen was paying for his hotel and travel expenses.

  Flynn figured he didn’t really need to stay in New Orleans any longer. Oh, he could do more damage, or finesse things a bit more. Still, Griffen had his card, if the young idiot remembered where he’d put it. He could always call for more sage advice. It was about time Flynn packed up and let nature take its course.

  There was a knock at his hotel door.

  Flynn looked suspiciously toward the door. Someone wanted something? Just when he had been on the verge of packing his suitcase? Flynn had been at this game far too long to believe in coincidence.

  Of course, he never could refuse a good game. He let his curiosity guide him and opened the door.

  “Hello, Earl,” Mai said.

  Flynn took a step back, surprised despite himself. He had, of course, heard that McCandles had contacts with a representative of the Eastern dragons, but Mai? She smiled, a bit demurely, and stepped into the room. She brushed against his arm as she passed, and the scent of jasmine clung to her skin.

  “I should have known,” Flynn said, frowning.

  “Oh, now, you make it sound like a bad thing I am here.”

  “It probably is. Still, let’s go through the motions, shall we?”

  “Let’s.”

  The two eyed each other for a moment, and Flynn shut the door. There was a tension here; there always had been with Mai. He always thought that it must be the same type of sensation two chess masters felt when they played. Well . . . one chess master, and one very promising amateur.