Robert Asprin - Dragons Wild

Malcolm raised his eyebrows in pleased surprise. His expression slipped back into his more neutral mask.

“Exactly right,” he said, nodding at the youth. “Dragons are as solitary as they are greedy. Oh, they may put on a show of being friendly, and many are quite charismatic, some to a point of using another form of mind control called glamour, but underneath it all they’re pretty self-serving. While temporary alliances are occasionally formed, they usually only last until the objective is achieved. There are some ongoing power blocs, mostly to keep track of and counter the doings of other power blocs, but even those are tenuous and prone to realignment.

“That brings us to your situation.”

“Me?” Griffen said, suddenly sitting up straighter.

His expression was attentive, but inside all he could think of were the dangers and pitfalls in the current situation. A part of him was curious, but most of him would have been very glad to be anywhere but this room. Thoughts of a job were long past. He was more interested in making sure he got out of the building with his skin intact.

“That’s right. You see, your parents were both near purebloods. That’s an expression we use to recognize those with minimal human blood in their line. Alone they were each quite powerful, and united they were strong enough to worry some of the power blocs. When they produced not just one, but two offspring, that worry grew to open fear…enough to inspire some factions to engineer their deaths.”

Griffen’s head cocked, body stiffening. He rarely let himself think of his parents, and didn’t care for Malcolm’s comments about them so far, nor for the dark implications whirling in his mind. He began to suspect that this was the key to this whole puzzle. Malcolm didn’t seem to notice the change in his posture, or just didn’t care.

“Now that you’re coming of age, however, things are heating up again. You see, with two near purebloods for parents, the other dragons are assuming that you’ll have rare strength, particularly once your secondary powers develop. Many fear that, despite your youth, you’re potentially more powerful than they are. Can you see what that means?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Griffen said, “but tell me anyway.”

“You’ve become a focal point of the dragon hierarchy. Some will be content to wait and see what powers you develop and what use you decide to make of them. Others will make every effort to recruit you as an ally. I fear, however, that there will be others who will simply try to kill you or have you killed just to be sure those powers aren’t used against them.”

“I see,” Griffen said. “Tell me, you keep saying that all this is coming down the road at me. What about Valerie?”

If other dragons might be out to kill him, where did that leave his situation with the “dragon” in the room? If Malcolm was so deranged by guilt over losing his brother that his mind has slipped into this dementia, what would be the next logical step? If logic could apply. Would he wish to kill a rival dragon, even his own nephew? Would the executive have a gun in his desk? Or would he try to rip Griffen’s throat out like an animal?

He swallowed, and tried his best to keep his breathing regular. Malcolm had not once taken his keen eyes off of Griffen, and the younger man realized he didn’t want his uncle to know just how fast his heartbeat was going at the thoughts of his possible death.

“I’m sure others have kept an eye on her, but your sister has a ways to grow yet before she’s a factor,” Malcolm said. “Besides, as wild and undisciplined as she is, I believe there are other plans in store for her. Using her for breeding stock without her being aware of it comes to mind. For the moment, however, it would be best to focus on your problems.”

Griffen practically ground his teeth at that. He had kept control all through the talk of threats to him, but the callous tone about his sister…Again he kept his reactions to himself, still waiting to see how this would unfold. In any other situation, though, he would have left, or bloodied Malcolm’s nose.

“All right.” Griffen nodded. “So how many of the individuals or blocs are there, and which ones do I have to look out for?”

“Not so fast.” Malcolm said, taking a long draw on his cigar. “Filling you in on the general situation falls under my duties as your guardian. Giving you specific information is a whole different ball game. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m one of the players you have to deal with. Like your father, I’m a near pureblood. Unlike him, however, I’ve gone to great lengths to keep a low profile in the interdragon power struggles. If I give you too much help, take you under my wing so to speak, all that could change.”

In other words, Griffen thought, Malcolm protected his own ass (or was that tail?) when he could have helped save his brother. Griffen wondered why he would do anything else for his nephew…unless it gained him something.

Griffen realized suddenly that he had been dead wrong, and felt like an idiot. Too many monster movies, not enough sense. This wasn’t a trap, it was an attempt to increase his uncle’s power. He could see the recruitment offer coming like a train down a tunnel, but doubted it would be anything like what he had been hoping for when he first entered the office building. Griffen felt like an absolute fool.

“Personally, I’m inclined to be one of those who take a wait-and-see attitude. If you want specific help and training, on the other hand, I’d need your reassurance and pledge that you would align with me and not use what I tell you against me.”

He leaned back in his chair and flashed a wide smile.

“So I guess the ball is really in your court, Griffen. Do you want to sign on with me here and now, or do you want to play it as an independent for a while?”

It was notably early in the day to drink, but Griffen figured he deserved one. Not that he needed one, mind you, but it would be welcome nonetheless. Besides, the ground-floor bar in Malcolm’s office building was irresistibly convenient.

Sliding onto a stool, he absently gave the bartender his order…Irish whiskey on the rocks (beer was so working class)…and settled down to think.

He had come to the meeting with such high expectations, and now it seemed he had to recalculate his entire future. Only one thing was sure. The cushy job he had hoped for with his uncle Malcolm was a bust. He had known all along that rich, successful people tended to be a bit odd, but his uncle, in the words of Raymond Chandler, was as crazy as three waltzing mice.

Dragons! Power blocs! Executions and assassinations!

If Griffen had owned any stock in any of his uncle’s corporations, he would be thinking seriously of dumping it. Of course, to date he had steered clear of such legalized gambling, preferring the kind when you got to see your opponent face-to-face.

The nerve of Malcolm! Never mind this dragon nonsense. From his own words, he left his own brother to hang for his own profit, and held out his hand to Griffen for the same reason. When he figured Griffen was the most vulnerable, dreading the thought of working and the real world. There was no way Griffen wanted part of a businessman, or business dragon, with those kind of priorities and those sort of tactics.

At least he wasn’t totally stranded. He had maybe $20-25,000 he had squirreled away between his poker winnings and what he had skimmed from his monthly allowance. That and his car, which ran most of the time. Originally he had figured on using the stash on his wardrobe and maybe to furnish a nice bachelor pad, but he could live on it for a while until he came up with a viable option.