Robert Asprin - Dragons Luck

“Flynn helped when you wouldn’t.”

“I choose my own replacements. I chose you!”

Mose stopped and calmed himself. Yelling at him was counterproductive. Even though Griffen got on the defensive about Flynn, it was a good thing. Defensive was better than meek.

“Griffen, you are destined to be a great force in this world. A force of nature practically. If you get it in your head that you need some mentor figure, it will be years before you learn otherwise.”

Griffen got up and paced. Mose watched him, saw that he wasn’t satisfied with these answers. He didn’t want to go the last step, but he owed it to Griffen. Still, to get through to him fully, Mose would have to be blunt.

“Griffen, I’m dying,” Mose said.

Griffen stopped and stared.

“We dragons age funny, but something you’ll hear from all the old-timers is that you feel when your clock is running down. Maybe it’s just in our head, maybe it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. But on my clock the ticks are getting slower, and there is no way to wind it back up again.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve been feeling it for a while now.”

“I… I don’t know enough to ask if you are sure. You wouldn’t say it if you weren’t sure.”

Mose considered his next comment for the longest time yet, rolling it around in his head, tasting it on his tongue.

“Griffen, I know you think well of me, but you have to remember, low blood or not, I am a dragon,” Mose said.

“And?”

“And dragons can be some of the most selfish bastards you ever did run into when it suits us. You ask why am I backing off. Would you really want to spend your last few years chained to a job, an office? Even as nice an office as this?”

Mose waved to his courtyard, to his house. He picked up his glass and lifted it to the sky.

“So, I think you don’t need me, and I haven’t figured out what I need. So you must forgive an old, selfish dragon and let me try to find the peace I may. Knowing that what I have poured my life into is in good hands.”

Griffen started to say something, and Mose cut him off.

“And, I’d appreciate it if you told Jerome something else, or nothing. He and the others here, they will make a big fuss. I don’t want a big fuss. I’m telling you ’cause you need, and deserve, to know. And ’cause I’ve grown to love you in a real short time, son. But when I do slip away, one way or the other, I want to go quiet. I say, live big, and leave them remembering your living, not your dying.”

“That’s a lot to bear, Mose.”

“You’ve got the shoulders to do it, lad. Jerome saw it, and I’ve seen it. Stop doubting yourself.”

“Well… all I can promise is that I’ll try.”

Griffen started to leave, but stopped as Mose stood up. He walked over to Griffen, and wrapped his arms around him tight. Griffen stood stiffly for a moment, then hugged the older dragon back.

“You’ll do more than try,” Mose said, and smacked Griffen on the back.

Griffen nodded and left, locking the gate behind him. Mose smiled and went back into his house. Inside, he picked up his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t touched in years.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Danielle,” Mose said.

“Papa!”

“I just wanted to say, it looks like pretty soon I’ll be coming for a visit. Time to see my grandchildren and all.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Will you be staying long?”

Mose looked out into the sky.

“Might be I will,” he said, “just might be.”

Sometimes,Griffen felt his life had just gotten too… complex.

The day had started normal enough, for the French Quarter anyway. The sun was bright. The tourists were out keeping the lifeblood of the area pumping and green. A quick stop by the Royal Mail had shown a surprise package in, a backordered series of books he had forgotten buying. So far, the day had been nothing but pleasant. He found his spirits high, his troubles somehow distant.

Such a state of mind is not meant to last.

Valerie had gotten him hooked on splurging on beignets and coffee at Café Du Monde when his mood was high. At their prices it couldn’t really be thought of as a splurge. Yet something about the atmosphere and sugary confections always made Griffen feel slightly decadent. More so, he imagined, than any of the five-star restaurants in the Quarter would. Though to be honest, he had yet to be truly tempted by the outrageous prices when the area was filled with inexpensive two- and three-star places that would knock anyone’s taste buds for a loop.

After a lazy time of people-watching, Griffen went to walk off the meal. He decided to avoid tourist-heavy streets like Royal and Bourbon, preferring today to enjoy the buildings more than the scenery. He paused by a window of a tiny antique shop on Chartres, looking over a variety of old pocket watches and knickknacks. The sorts of things that were fun to peer at but he would never find reason to purchase.

He was aware of eyes watching him, and suddenly the mood of the day shattered.

At first he thought it was the shopkeeper inside, checking to see if he was a gawker or a viable customer. The feeling came from behind, though, eyes heavy on the back of his neck. Griffen had never asked if this were part of being a dragon. Most people claimed to be able to feel someone watching them. Dragon powers or no, he trusted his instinct.

Griffen felt his meal, just moments ago a pleasant warming, now a heavy wetness in his stomach. His pulse was elevated so suddenly and quickly that he knew it was something more than the average pickpocket or hustler. He did his best to suppress his nervousness, trying to be cautious. He glanced at the window in front of him instead of through it, trying to catch anyone’s reflection. Nothing. Next he glanced out of the corner of his eyes. Nothing. Finally, he turned around fully.

Nothing.

Now his worry started to grow to fear. Usually by now the feeling of being watched should have faded. If anything, it had intensified since he had turned. Nervous but resolved not to show it, he rested his hand on his pocket, taking a loose grip on the folding knife nestled inside. Usually nothing more than something to open boxes or peel fruit with, its cool weight gave him some minor comfort.

Griffen tried to focus on the feeling, trying to give more attention to his instincts. He extended his sense out, reaching for a greater feel of his environment. Suddenly, a wave of curiosity crashed over him. Curiosity, mixed with daring. It was such a shock to his system that he actually took a step back and rested one hand on the wall. That wave of emotion had not been his own.

Now Griffen truly did not know what to do. The intensity of his misgivings was soaring, and his own fear rose with it. Never before had he felt someone else’s emotion, and this had been so intense that, for a moment, he didn’t know what feelings inside were actually his. He—yes, he was almost sure those were his emotions—mostly wanted to retreat. To run away and get another person’s opinion on just what might be going on.

That option was taken away as the source of the attention on him appeared. A great, shaggy beast of a dog stepped out from behind a parked car. The gray of the car almost exactly matched the dog’s fur, complete with random brown streaks that could have been dirt, rust, or natural coloration. The animal was just shy of being the size of a Great Dane, and had easily watched Griffen through the windows of its cover.

Griffen was suddenly caught by a conflict of his instincts and his logic. Logically, he started to relax. The odd sensations, from being watched to the burst of feelings, could all be an extension of his animal control. He really didn’t understand what he did, or could do, yet.