Rick Cook - The Wizardry Quested

The band had struck up again and "Judy Garland" was back on the stage, flirting with Bal-Simba as he swung into his first number. Jerry collected his friend and they made for the door.

"Forgive me," Bal-Simba said when they were out in the corridor and could talk in normal tones again, "but is there something peculiar about that woman?"

"For starters, it’s a man."

"Ah," Bal-Simba said mildly, "I see," and seemed to lose interest. Jerry thought about trying to explain and then realized that to Bal-Simba a female impersonator was probably the least peculiar thing he seen had all day. Moira was waiting for them where they had left her. "Well?" she asked.

"No sign of him. We’re going to have to look elsewhere." He frowned. "This isn’t a real good strategy to find Taj anyway."

"What would you suggest then?"

Jerry had pulled out his exhibitor book and was thumbing through it in search of inspiration.

"Look, there are a couple of more companies on the hospitality suite list that Taj has a special relationship with. We can call them and see if they know where he is. It’ll take some calling around to track them down, but it will be faster than trying to hit all these exhibits."

He closed the book and looked up. "Meantime, we can’t stay here. Too public. Let’s get a few blocks away from the casinos and find a place where Moira can hole up and rest for a few hours while we hit a pay phone. It’s getting late enough for that."

"My Lady?" Bal-Simba asked.

The dragon nodded "Forgive me, My Lords, but this body is not as strong as it looks."

"We understand," Bal-Simba said gently.

"Yeah," Jerry added ’The last time I was here I would have collapsed if I’d done half as much walking as we have already."

"Then lead on," Bal-Simba said. Jerry picked a direction and led them off away from the maze of casinos and neon.

Just a few blocks from the downtown casino district the scene changed radically. From bright lights and constant bustle it became a run-down area of progressively cheaper motels and shabby buildings. The character of the people on the streets changed as well. In the next several blocks Bal-Simba’s appearance got them a number of interesting business propositions-both buying and selling.

Bal-Simba and Moira didn’t know enough to see it as unusual, but Jerry was getting progressively more nervous. At six feet three and well over two hundred pounds he was the least physically impressive member of the trio, but even so he did not like the looks of the neighborhood. "There’s a mini-mart down the block," he said finally. "It should have a pay phone."

A small sign informed them that the pay phones were inside.

"Wait here. I’ll see what we can find out." He paused and looked at Bal-Simba.

"No, you come with me. Moira, you wait here." The dragon settled down in a parking space and Jerry and Bal-Simba went into the mini-mart

In the event it took longer than Jerry had expected. The hotels were overworked and the switchboards were glacial. Even when he did find where the companies were staying, the phone would ring forever before someone answered it and it would take somewhat longer to find anyone who knew the Tajmanian Devil and could tell Jerry that he wasn’t there. Jerry kept pumping in quarters, but it was slow.

Meanwhile, things were quiet outside and Fluffy was exhausted. So Moira lay down in the parking space and drifted off to sleep.

Fluffy was big enough to fill up the parking space, but down on all fours he wasn’t visible over the cars on either side. Incautiously the dragon let his tail trail out behind him, making him longer than the parking space. If Moira had thought about it she would have tucked the tail back around Fluffy’s body. But she was dead beat from all the walking, ill from the effects of being a magical creature in a non-magical world, and generally not thinking very well. All she wanted to do was to curl herself into a little ball of misery and let the body relax.

Moira wasn’t the only one who felt that way. The couple in the Mini-Winnie had driven straight through from Los Angeles and the driver wasn’t as awake as he might have been. Besides, he was distracted by the simmering argument with his wife over finding a campground. As a result he didn’t see the thing lying in the parking lot until it was too late.

The motor home ran over the dozing dragon’s tail and all hell broke loose. Fluffy jerked up with a roar of pain and rage. Moira was slow to regain control of the body so, for the first critical seconds, the dragon reacted out of instinct.

Unfortunately the dragons instinct was to lash out at his tormentor. Fluffy’s tail slammed into the side of the motor home again and again, caving in some of the thin aluminum paneling and rocking the vehicle so violently it teetered on the brink of overturning.

Moira quickly discovered she didn’t have as much control over the dragon as she thought, especially when the dragon was frightened or angry. Although dragons are physically tough, the young ones are more vulnerable psychologically. In general they do not take well to new experiences and they are somewhat skittish in strange circumstances. Fluffy had been a pampered pet almost all his life. Again and again the dragon lashed the motorhome with its tail while the occupants screamed and Moira tried desperately to regain control.

Jerry and Bal-Simba came running out of the store into a scene of complete and utter chaos. There was already a small crowd gathered at a safe distance and almost as soon as they stepped out of the store the first police car arrived, quickly followed by two others. The lights and sirens did nothing to calm the hysterical dragon.

Shotguns at the ready the officers advanced to the rescue.

By this time Moira had gained partial control and Fluffy lay panting on the pavement.

Jerry held his breath. If they could just get the situation calmed down, then maybe: An odd corner of his brain wondered what it would cost to bail out a dragon.

He never had the chance to find out.

The cops were understandably nervous. Even lying down, a dragon looks dangerous and there were a lot of civilians around to protect. When Moira suddenly heaved the dragons body back on his feet the logical conclusion was that it was getting ready to attack, especially since the dragon’s open mouth was treating the cops to a spectacular display of fangs.

One of the cops with a clear shot pumped a load of buckshot into Fluffy at close range.

This was a spectacularly bad idea. The shot was #6, enough to drop a deer or a man in their tracks, but only enough to sting the scaled hide of a dragon. The results were equally spectacular. With another steamwhistle roar, Fluffy went berserk, charging directly at the police officers closing in. Two more rounds of buckshot did nothing to stop him. A lash of the scaled tail and the policemen went flying like tenpins. A few of the spectators applauded, it being that kind of neighborhood.

"Get animal control. We need a tranquilizer gun," one of the officers yelled into his microphone.

"Tranquilizer, hell!" one of the other cops shouted. "We need a goddamn tank." One of the officers, with more courage than tactical sense pulled her police cruiser into the parking lot to block the dragon’s escape. Fluffy stopped, hissed in breath, drew back his head and for the first time in his life, breathed flames.

It wasn’t much of a blast by dragon standards, weak and low temperature, but the gout of yellow fire did quite a nice job of igniting the police car. The officer bailed out the driver’s door as the opposite side of the car erupted in fire.