Robert Asprin - Dragons Luck

He caught himself and forced his mind back to the issue at hand.

“Are you okay, Tammy?” he said. “It’s not really any of my business, but you seem a little down.”

The changeling gave a sigh.

“I really screwed things up with that demo,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “All the others are really pissed at me. They say I’ve made our whole group look bad at our first conclave. I don’t know. Maybe they’re right.”

She took a long pull on her drink, giving Griffen a chance to grope for something to say.

“I don’t think anyone has come off as well as they would like to, including me,” he said. “Except, maybe watzername, the tattoo and bird lady. She would be a tough act to follow for anyone.”

“Tell me about it,” Tammy said with a bitter laugh. “I was only going to do my partial tree change, but it would have looked so lame after her showstopper I tried to juice it a little with glamour.”

“That’s understandable,” Griffen said, soothingly. “It’s only natural to try to make a good impression. I really don’t think it’s such a big thing. To tell the truth, I didn’t even know that shape-shifting was one of the abilities you changelings have.”

“It isn’t, really.” Tammy grimaced. “A few of us can, but it’s not part of the standard package. That was part of the game plan. You aren’t alone in not knowing what we can or can’t do, even though for most of them it’s because they really don’t care. We’re supposed to be secretive and evasive about our powers, then show off some that people don’t expect… like the shape-shifting. It’s supposed to make people take us more seriously, or at least pique their curiosity.”

“Well, it worked for me,” Griffen said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I, for one, am extremely curious about you.”

The changeling suddenly brightened as if someone had turned on a lightbulb inside her.

“Really?” she said. “You don’t know how much that means to me, Mr… I mean, Griffen.”

She put a hand over his and pressed down hard, effectively pinning his hand in place.

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to meet a dragon, but since that first day… you’re nothing like what I expected.”

Every alarm in Griffen’s head was going off.

He had meant that he was curious about the changelings, but Tammy was obviously taking it personally. Moreover, her response was so enthusiastic there was no way he could see of correcting the impression without it sounding like a blunt rejection of her. Of course, he wasn’t all that disinterested in her.

“Um… Tammy…” he said.

“Oh, I know,” she interrupted. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way. Still, curiosity’s not a bad place to start.”

Still holding his hand, she shifted it from her shoulder to the middle of her chest.

Griffen was suddenly aware that there wasn’t a damn thing under that T-shirt except Tammy.

At that pivotal moment, Tail came into the bar with two of the other shape-shifters. Tammy saw him and let go of Griffen’s hand, recoiling as if she had been struck.

Too late.

Tail spotted them and approached their table with a huge smirk on his face.

“Well, now we know what it takes to get our moderator to spend time with you,” he declared in his gravelly voice. “Just phony up a demonstration, and you get his undivided attention.”

Griffen leaned back in his chair and stared levelly at the intruder.

“You know, Tail,” he said, “as moderator, I try real hard not to let my personal likes and dislikes show or affect how I conduct the conclave. Some people make it harder than others. For example, I was just telling Tammy here that I thought that your interrupting and embarrassing her during her demonstration was totally uncalled for and made you look worse than it did her.”

“Really?” Tail said, crossing his arms. “Well, I suppose it’s as good a line as any to try to get into someone’s pants. Is she gullible enough to believe you?”

Griffen waited several moments before answering.

“Tail,” he said finally, “is there any particular reason you’re trying to be offensive and pick a fight? I find it hard to believe this is your normal way of dealing with people.”

“This is pretty much it,” Tail said with a grin. “Of course, I get particularly ornery around phonies. Take you, for example. Everyone’s walking soft round you because you’re supposed to be a hot-shit dragon, but so far you haven’t shown me much. I notice you didn’t favor us with a shape-shifting demonstration.”

“Like I said at the opening ceremonies, I was invited here as a moderator, not a participant or demonstrator,” Griffen said, trying to keep a grip on his temper. “This whole conclave is supposed to be about the various groups that were invited in. Not an excuse to show off dragon powers.”

“Isn’t that convenient.” The shape-shifter sneered. “Well, this isn’t an official conclave gathering. Any reason why you can’t give us a little private demo of what you can do?”

Griffen glanced pointedly around the bar.

“Several reasons,” he said. “The first is there’s a conclave rule against showing our powers in public, which I figure I’m bound to follow. This also happens to be the town I live in, which gives me an extra reason to keep a low profile. And finally, I don’t use my powers unless it’s necessary, and I don’t do sideshows.”

“You know, McCandles, you remind me of a good old boy back home,” Tail said. “He keeps sayin’ he doesn’t want to fight ’cause he’s afraid of hurtin’ someone. The fact that he doesn’t really know how to fight and is really afraid of gettin’ hurt himself doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

Griffen pursed his lips, then leaned forward, putting both his hands on the table.

“Tell me something, Tail,” he said. “When one of the loup garou changes, exactly how hard are those claws he grows?”

“Hard enough to rip up most any critter you know of.” Tail smiled. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondered,” Griffen said, smiling back as he leaned back in his chair.

Tail looked at him for a minute.

“I don’t get it,” he said, finally. “What was that supposed to do?”

“Take a close look at the table,” Griffen said, giving a slight nod with his head.

Tail bent over and examined the cocktail table, his companions peering over his shoulder and Tammy craning her neck to see.

There were now ten holes in the Formica surface of the table, placed in two half circles where Griffen had rested his hands. The holes went all the way though the table and were wide enough they could see the floor through them.

“A word to the wise, Tail,” Griffen said softly. “Don’t fuck with me or any other dragon. When we get mad… even if we just get annoyed… we play for keeps. Now, I believe the door is that way.”

He turned his head and blew a smoke ring in the direction of the door.

The shape-shifters left without saying anything else.

Griffenwas irritated. It took him some time to realize just why, but as the conclave wore on, he found his mood steadily declining. Not so much during the meetings and demonstrations, but after. During times and periods that should have been social.

He realized that the clique mentality of it all was what was getting to him. With little exception, like stayed with like. Each of the groups fractured into smaller groups, and little clusters wandered around the French Quarter, never mingling. Even if two different groups found the same bar, they would sit at opposite sides.

Only at conclave-sponsored events did any serious degree of mingling take place. The first that Griffen attended was a sponsored breakfast at Café Du Monde. He suspected that even then, most just showed up because someone else was picking up the bill. He had only shown up to make sure it wasn’t him.