Dragons Luck gm-2

by Robert Asprin

  It seemed simple enough, a source of information on who was where and who was near enough to call on for help in times of crisis. Still, Griffen had a growing suspicion in his gut that things would be anything but easy.

  The room itself was like conference rooms everywhere. A long table, chairs, pitchers of water, and glasses. Though there were only a few chairs at the table itself. Behind each seat at the table were several chairs, and as people started filing in, Griffen saw what he expected would become a familiar pattern.

  The speakers, for lack of a better word, sat at the table. Their groups and advisors sat behind them. Already there was whispering going on as a speaker would lean back to consult the others. Though there were no rules against anyone speaking their mind, it seemed the majority would speak through their leaders.

  Griffen had purposefully not sat at the head of the table but closer to the middle of it. If he was going to do any good at all, he figured he would have to be in the thick of things. This was not about power games. At least, not yet.

  When it was all said and done, sitting at the table were Griffen, Estella, Slim, Jay, Lowell, Tink, and three people Griffen hadn’t met yet. One he knew from sight was the leader of the garou, who was sitting directly opposite Jay and the other shifters. He went by the name of Kane. The other two Slim had mentioned were representing more-scattered and less-represented groups.

  One, a stout woman with laughter lines around her eyes, was a wiccan named Gada. She was speaking largely for the collected human religious types other than the voodoo. The last was the one who had proposed the database. Griffen wasn’t sure what to make of him, but he claimed to be an alchemist.

  The meeting had started with the proposal. That in itself was excruciating. The alchemist, named Nick, tended to stutter and repeat himself. He listed point by point the benefits of such information, then played devil’s advocate and brought up every point against it he could think of. Then he brought up points to dismiss the negative ones and debated himself.

  “Dis so stupid.” Kane put in finally.

  Griffen had been told that the garou were “local” more or less. Now he believed it. Kane’s accent was somewhere between Cajun and the Bronx. He had to have some family that lived in the Irish Channel. His vocabulary was good, his sense of grammar atrocious.

  “He has the right to speak,” Slim said.

  “For ’ow long? Dis here discussion was only s’posed ta be for a hour or two. He’s liable ta take dat all up hi’self.”

  “I-I-I was o-o-only trying to present a f-f-fair and coco-complete argument,” Nick said.

  “Well, to be fair, perhaps it’s time we let the table discuss it. I think you have made your pitch,” Gada said.

  “Incessantly,” said Kane, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the table.

  For some reason he glared at Griffen. There was a certain insolence about Kane. As if he would push for no reason other than to see who would push back. Griffen saw no reason at this point to give him the satisfaction.

  “Sure can’t see it bein’ a big deal. Never hurts to have too much info or too many contacts,” Slim said, starting off the discussion proper.

  Gada and Lowell both nodded, Jay and Estella seemed hesitant. Kane sat upright again and slapped his palm down on the table.

  “You gonna put our lives up on da Internet? Der still people who hunt supernaturals. All supernaturals. Not just dragons,” he said.

  The blatant dig aside, he seemed to have a point.

  “I agree,” Tink said. “I’ve run into persecution before, and even hunters. This is not a safe world.”

  “It’s exactly because it’s not a safe world that we need a way to stay in touch,” Lowell said.

  “I’m not sure I like how you would touch us,” Tink said with an easy smile.

  There were chuckles from the audience, and a stirring among the vampires. One firm rule during these meetings: no powers. That was the only part of Griffen’s job description he was sure on, and he kept a close eye, or whatever, on the vampires’ auras of power.

  “I am not sure I would trust even others on the list with the whole list,” Jay said. “After all, the only people you can truly count on in a crisis are those you know, and know you can trust. There are many predators among us.”

  “And as a predator I say dis stinks. You are settin’ yo’self up for some big troubles,” Kane said.

  Estella spoke up, and there was something about her voice that caught people’s attention. It wasn’t any power, other than that of her personality. She was used to speaking to, and commanding, a crowd. It was a preacher’s voice.

  “How many are lost, or never found? How many of us have lived alone, unprotected? My faith keeps me strong because I have others who can share it with me, but others aren’t so lucky,” she said.

  Slim nodded.

  “My folk are all loners,” he said, “but even we gets together now and again. The three here, we know pretty damn near all the others in the country. But if somethin’ happens to one of us, that goes right in the ol’ crapper.”

  “And there are so many types of wicca and the pantheists and so many others. We are not as tight-knit a group as the vodoun. Such a list would help our sisters and brothers connect across the continent,” Gada said.

  Kane smiled, and Griffen noticed his teeth were far sharper than they should have been. His jaw seemed a bit too long, too. Not really a muzzle, but certainly big enough to hold all those pointy dentures.

  “It figures de humans wan’ keep tabs on their betters. So they ’ave someone to holler at when tings get tough.”

  “Excuse me, who are you calling human?” Lowell said.

  “Oh, sorry. I no blame you. Vampire see chance at an easy meal, vampire gonna support it. Is your nature, no?” Kane suggested.

  Griffen was still mulling over the use of the word “human,” but from people’s reactions, Kane had struck a nerve. He decided to step in.

  “As I understand it, anyone’s being on the list would be voluntary. This really is a nonissue. If you want the help of the list, sign up. If not, don’t. Each to his own,” Griffen said.

  There was a long silence as people thought that over. Kane, eyes glinting, seemed unwilling to give up the fight so easily. Yet, he was the first to nod.

  “Yo’ right ’bout that. Dis is silly discussion. Let da humans ’ave their list.”

  “Actually, it’s not that silly a discussion. I for one want to know what type of security would be installed. After all, it needs to be as safe as possible, without blocking out the people who need it. This is supposed to be a discussion on information technology. Even if you don’t use the database, might as well make it as safe and good as possible,” Griffen said.

  “That I can agree on,” Jay said. “I, for one, don’t intend to give anyone my whereabouts, especially over the Internet. Yet I’ve a few ideas that might help make such a system work for others.”

  “Well, sho’,” Kane said, “I reckon I gots some ideas my own self.”

  And with that the conversation was off on a much more productive route. Griffen leaned back in his chair, proud of himself and how he had handled it. But still there was that bit about the “humans” that he just couldn’t quite let go.

  They had been into it for about forty minutes when there was a knock at the door. Someone close by, after checking with the group, opened it to find one of the hotel bellmen holding a large package.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but this delivery came in for your conference. Catering, I think. It was sent to this meeting room, and specifically to an…” He checked the label. “Al Shifters.”

  Griffen exchanged a look with Jay. He knew he hadn’t ordered any catering, but a delivery for Al Shifters? All shifters?

  “Does it say who it’s from?” Griffen asked.

  “No, sir, it came anonymously, which is why I thought I’d bring it in direct instead of phoning in. Just in case, you know?”

  “Y
eah, it’s appreciated. Thanks,” Griffen said. “Just leave it on the table.”

  The bellman put it down, and received a tip from Griffen before departing. As the doors closed, Griffen reached for the package. Only to find Jay way ahead of him.

  “After all, for the meeting at least the shifters are my responsibility.”

  He opened the package.

  Inside was a cake.

  Specifically a cake from the Three Dogs Bakery. Specializing in gourmet treats for cats and dogs. It looked like chocolate, but Griffen suspected it was some substitute intended for dogs’ stomachs. Carob probably.

  Kane was growling, as were several other shifters. Though one leaned forward, and Griffen could see his nose twitching.

  “Mmm, that smells good.”

  Lowell laughed, as did several others around the table. The vampires in particular all seemed to be smirking.

  “Dis yo’ idea of a joke!?” Kane snarled. “You send dis cake, yes or no?”

  “No, no, of course not. Still it is rather funny,” Lowell said.

  “If no you, then who? I tink it one of yo’ vamps.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Why would we?”

  “ ’Cause you vamps always lookin’ ta make trouble.”

  “By teasing a bunch of animals. Please, why would we bother?”

  “Animals!”

  Griffen stood up.

  “Gentleman, please! Mr. Kane, there is nothing that says Lowell or anyone else sent this… cake. Besides, it was obviously just someone’s idea of a joke, nothing to get this upset over.”

  “How would you feel if I sent you a set of gator-skin bags?”

  Griffen stopped to think about that one.

  “Would you include a nice card?” he said innocently.

  Kane stared at him, then broke out laughing. He thumped the table hard enough the cake jumped.

  “Oh, dragon boy has sense of humor, yes indeed. I may likes you after all.”

  “Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” Lowell said.

  He reached for his water glass and took a sip, only to spray it over the table in an ugly spit take. Kane started laughing harder, only to be joined by the changelings. Nyx, who had messed with the contents of Griffen’s drink when they first met, said through her laughter, “What’s the matter? Can’t handle your holy water?”

  Most of the table was laughing now, and though it was at Lowell’s expense, the tense mood had broken. Lowell even managed a weak smile as he grabbed up a napkin and wiped his mouth.

  “Not an allegory this time?” Griffen said.

  “Oh, it is. It is. But the minx changed my water to vinegar!” Lowell said.

  That set off another round of laughter. All and all, Griffen figured the first meeting could have gone a lot worse.

  Thankfully, everyone decided to tactfully ignore the few shape-shifters who did divvy up the cake.

  Thirty-seven

  Griffen found himself mildly amused that such a loose assemblage of people would adhere to an orderly schedule. He realized that it would be next to impossible to run a conclave such as this without one. A schedule was what seemed to separate the conclave from a drinking party and gripe fest. Griffen wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t have preferred the latter.

  The meetings scheduled were more open-discussion forums. No decisions were made. Instead it was more on the order of agreements, treaties, and arrangements. All largely on a personal level. This was no governing body, there was no enforcement arm of the conclave keeping a check to make sure agreements were honored.

  It was simply that anyone who broke their word would have a mass of witnesses against them, and their word would never be honored again. That and being denied entry to any future conclave kept people from violating their oaths, or more often than not kept them from giving oaths in the first place. Griffen was beginning to realize how important one’s word and honor could be in supernatural circles.

  Then there were the demos. A few of these would be away from the hotels. One in particular that had caught Griffen’s eye was a voodoo demonstration by Estella at her home. That was a couple of days into the conclave, though. Today was something that also intrigued him but apparently didn’t need any special location. The hotel would do just fine.

  The room chosen for most of the demos was about half the size of the one in which the opening ceremonies had taken place. For the most part, this was Griffen’s first look at the business of conventions, and he had to admit he was impressed. The room the hotel provided met all the requirements. A small elevated stage had been assembled in no time flat on one end. In front of it were rows of folding chairs, padded and more comfortable than Griffen would have expected. Next to the stage their was a door leading to a small adjoining room, which they were using as a combination green room and changing room.

  Changing… that brought to mind another feature Griffen liked about the room. Locks on the inside, and no windows.

  “I have to admit I am fascinated by this demo, but don’t really understand why it’s being put on,” Griffen said.

  He was sitting in the front row, though at the end of the row, not center stage. Jay, the spokesmen for the shifters sat next to him, and next to Jay were two of the other upper-level shape changers. They were half-turned to watch the door as people filed in. As usual, people tended to clump into groups, with at least a few seats left empty between each group. However, Griffen noted that each of the groups attending the conclave had at least some members at this demonstration.

  “In this crowd, there are always many reasons for anything. As you may have noted,” Jay said.

  Griffen couldn’t help but nod. It seemed to him that no one in the supernatural communities seemed to do anything for simple motivations.

  “But really, a demonstration on shape-shifting?” Griffen said.

  “On different types of shape-shifting. Thus we educate not only the non-shape-shifters present, but broaden the horizons of the more limited shifters. If it weren’t for meetings such as these, some of those present would be lucky to meet even a handful of other shifters in their entire lifetimes. Despite the concentration here, we are not all that common,” Jay said.

  “Not the most important.”

  This was said by the gravelly-voiced shifter Griffen had noted that Jay and the others seemed to defer to. Griffen hadn’t spoken much to him, just enough to catch that he was calling himself “Tail” despite the fact that he didn’t seem to have one. Griffen checked.

  In fact, he looked much like someone he would expect to find sleeping under a bench in Jackson Square. Yet Jay instantly lowered his eyes, and his tone went respectful.

  “What is?” Jay asked.

  “Competition.”

  Jay and the other shifter nodded and turned back to Griffen.

  “I’m not sure I agree that the competition aspect is the most important, but it certainly is prevalent,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Griffen inquired.

  “Well, all those serving in this demonstration are volunteers. Which means at very least they have to be confident enough to show off in front of a crowd of strangers. Show off is what they do, and most of those expect to have the most impressive tricks. Truly remarkable demonstrations win the renown of the rest of the shifter communities.”

  Griffen couldn’t help smiling.

  “Are there prizes? Trophies? Best of show?”

  “Sometimes.” Jay smiled back.

  The other shifter nodded, and through his matted beard Griffen saw his lips twist into what had to be a smile.

  “Got me an apprentice years back from one of these. No one knew where he came from, but, boy, could he work it,” Tail said.

  “All the participants are in the other room right now waiting for their big moments. You can bet the tension level is fierce. That’s why I am allowing my colleague to take the honor of presenting. I’ve enough pressure with all the damnable meetings.”

  As if on cue, the door to the adjoining
room opened and in walked the last of the shape-shifter leaders. He was a good head and a half shorter than Griffen, so that he looked small even on the elevated stage. His bald head glistened from perspiration, and he licked his lips nervously as he stepped up to a podium located in the corner of the stage.

  “Right, I’m sure you are all anxious to get started, but we decided to wait fifteen minutes past the scheduled time to let stragglers trickle in before we lock the doors.”

  He paused while a few people waiting by the main doors closed and locked them. He pulled out a set of note cards and started to riffle through them.

  “Right, before we get started. Please keep all questions to the end or, better yet, save them for conversation later. Just make sure to keep an eye on any norms about if you are talking in the bar. Along those lines, no photography, no video. Violators will, of course, be disemboweled.”

  A low ripple of laughter spread through the room. Griffen joined in, though a little bitterly. He tried not to dwell on how flat his jokes had fallen the other night.

  “Okay, then, on with the show.”

  The presenter cleared his throat and glued his eyes on his cards as he began to recite in a slow monotone. Griffen could see why the shifters had chosen Jay to talk during the meetings.

  “There are, of course, as many different ways of shifting as there are types of shifters. Some are born with their gifts, some cursed, some find means through spells and science. It all comes down to variety, which is of course what shape-shifting is all about.”

  The door to the adjoining room opened again and two people walked onto the stage. One, a young man in a bathrobe. The other, a tough-looking man dressed in black jeans and a leather vest whom Griffen had seen standing with the loup garou.

  “Take, for example, the ‘werewolf’ of legend. Here we have two very different varieties of wolf-based shifter. Gustov here is of the more common variety: He finds changing his skin easier under the light of a full moon and nearly impossible when the moon is dark. The moon is nearly full this time of month, so even in day he can assume his other form.”