Robert Asprin - Dragons Luck

“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.”

Griffen watched frankly amazed as the young man somewhat nervously removed his bathrobe, carefully draping it so that at no time were his privates exposed to the audience. There were a few catcalls, but not many, and those that came were friendly.

Then, with a sheepish smile, Gustov lifted the robe in front of him. He held it open, blocking off everything from the eyes down, then dropped it. By the time it hit the floor, a large gray wolf stood where he had been.

The presenter only briefly glanced up from his cards.

“Notice the seamlessness of the change. None of the pain and agony Hollywood has become prone to showing in their special-effects pictures. Gustov is lucky, as there are indeed those who cannot change without pain, just as there are those who experience transcendent ecstasy as their bodies reconfigure. Kevin here, being what is commonly dubbed the loup garou, can change forms just as quickly but, by slowing and controlling the change, can take more than wolf form.”

Again, Griffen was astounded. His own encounters with such things had been brief and often so surprising that he didn’t notice the change till after it happened. He watched Kevin grow his nails and teeth to claws and fangs, then back again, then shift to wolf in an eyeblink. Then, with a small quiver, his form surged and there on the podium was a six-foot monster that combined all the best, or worst, attributes of man and wolf.

Many in the audience gasped, though not any of the group leaders. Griffen, conscious of the fact that several eyes seemed to flick to him on occasion, had assumed a poker face. Difficult though it was to maintain.

“Startling, isn’t it?” said the presenter. It was clear he had expected this reaction and put it on his note cards. “Not quite like anything Hollywood has come up with. Of course, part of that is because each garou tailors their form to what works best for them. This is Kevin’s wolf, and there will be none other exactly like it.”

Jay muttered next to Griffen.

“Unless it’s a good doppelganger or mimic.”

“What was that?” Griffen said.

“Oh, nothing. These are good basics, but it’s such a broad topic. Putting together an hour demonstration cuts off a lot of possibilities, you know,” Jay said.

Meanwhile, both of those onstage had become human-shaped again, Gustov hastily scooping up his bathrobe. Kevin was still fully dressed.

“How’d he do that without ripping his clothes?” someone called out. Griffen looked around and saw that it was one of the members of Estella’s church.

“What did I say about questions?” the presenter said, irritated.

There was a bit of a murmur from the crowd. The presenter looked a bit desperately at Jay and his fellow shifters, and received nods from them. He shrugged.

“Right, just this once, but after this, no more interruption.”

The crowd settled again.

“To keep it simple, clothes are a specialty skill. Some actually change the clothes themselves, some… well, let’s just say the clothes go somewhere else till they are needed again. Now, this is important: Most shifters who don’t have to strip or rip through their clothes when they change don’t know how they do it. They don’t need to, they just do it, and since it is a rare thing, it isn’t really studied or understood. No one else in today’s demonstration can manage the trick, so if you have the plums, buy him a drink and ask. Just keep in mind the parable of the centipede that questioned its own feet, okay?”

The two headed off the stage, and another figure came out of the door. She was easily one of the most beautiful women Griffen had ever seen. Tall and thin, curved enough that the one-size-fits-all bathrobe seemed strained top and bottom. Her long black hair fell straight to the small of her back.

She paused at the edge of the stage, making sure she had the crowd’s attention, and let the robe fall away. She strode nude onto the center of the stage.