Robert Asprin - Dragons deal

"Yeah, I know. I told the seamstress that when she showed me the fabric, but she said it's sea blue, and what do I expect?" Bert gave him a wink. "So I just settled for thinking there's something for the comic-book fans, too." His throne looked like a big shell. Gris-gris sat beside him on a clump of fake red coral filled with neon-edged clown fish. Giant seahorses attached to the front of the float looked as if they were pulling it. Stick-manipulated giant puppets that looked like sea monsters danced around them as the nearest band played "Under the Sea."

The Nautilus krewe had welcomed Gris-gris as an asset. He felt disadvantaged, thrown into a social group he normally slunk around, resenting, but his Val had brought him into a new world. He'd live up to the situation for her. So far, if he was honest, it had been fun. If he was afraid he'd be made fun of, most of the people he hung around with were driving tractors that day. He was riding on the king's float. So how do you like that?

"Hope someone takes my picture for Val," he said.

Bert grinned at him. "That's some girl you have there."

Gris-gris felt a moment's tenderness for Val, something he wouldn't admit out loud even under torture. "Yeah. Never found anyone I cared about like that."

"How much? Would you die for her?"

"In a minute, but then I couldn't be with her, so that's a waste." He grinned back.

They were having a fine time. Gris-gris made sure Bert had whatever he needed for kinging. He kept him supplied with necklaces, bottle openers, inflatable beach balls, and other trinkets to throw to the yelling watchers. Gris-gris stowed a few of each to take home later for his nephews and cousins. There was plenty of beer on board. Nautilus was never dry, Bert commented drolly.

A dancing octopus draped its tentacles over the foot of the seashell. Gris-gris leaned back out of its way.

When it passed, a big man dressed as a merman was standing on the float. Gris-gris knew all the dancers who were supposed to be at the head of the parade. This was a stranger. Immediately, he leaped up and pushed the man in the chest.

The man staggered back and swung a fist. Gris-gris ducked. As fast as a greased snake, the man turned and reached for Bert's scepter. Bert walloped the man with it; that had to hurt. Gris-gris leaped on his back. He reached into the pocket of his costume for the rope he had brought with him. Griffen had warned him not to use a knife. If he couldn't drive him off, the best thing to do was tie him until the cops could get him. The man bucked like an unbalanced washing machine. Gris-gris held on. He couldn't get the rope around his arms. Instead, he went for the knife hanging in a sheath under his arm. This guy was not going to ruin the parade for Val's brother!

He plunged the knife into the man's back. The blade went through the costume, but skidded off the skin. The man bellowed, but he was unhurt. That was impossible! He must be wearing a bulletproof vest! Gris-gris was surprised, but he went after the man with everything he had. A couple of punches to the kidneys ought to bring him down. Like lightning, the tall man turned around. His hand seemed to change before Gris-gris's eyes from fingers to talons. He brandished them at Gris-gris. He must have believed that just seeing a hand turn into a claw would scare him, but Gris-gris grinned.

"That all you got, man?"

The man plunged one talon into Gris-gris's stomach. Gris-gris gasped, but hung on. He shoved his head upward into the other's chin, then forward into the windpipe. The man staggered, but he recovered fast. The talon came across and gashed Gris-gris through the cheek. He knocked Gris-gris's hands upward, breaking his hold. He grabbed him by the shoulder and hip, lifted him high, and brought him down on the seahorse at the front of the float. Gris-gris moaned. His back hurt him and he couldn't feel his legs. He lay on top of the cardboard boxes, staring at the sky.

"Gris-gris!" Bert shouted. "Tritons, come and help here! Hey, damm it, let that alone!"

The captain and lieutenants raced to help, but the big man snapped Bert's arm sharply up and down on the arm of his throne. Bert heard a crack and knew it was the bone. His hand opened nervelessly. He grabbed for the intruder, but he couldn't reach him. The merman snatched up the scepter and jumped straight for the head of the lead horse, which sent it bucking and whinnying. He vanished under the thrashing hooves. The lieutenants grabbed for him, but he evaded them and leaped over a barrier.

"How bad are you hurt?" the captain asked.

"Arm," Bert gritted. The pains shooting through his arm were almost as bad as the humiliation he felt. "Griffen, I lost it. And we have a casualty."

"Who?" Griffen's voice demanded.

"My defender. He's valiant as an old-time hero. He's worthy of better. Dammit, I hate to be the weakest link!"

"Not your fault. What about Gris-gris?"

Bert's float stopped as stretcher-bearers rushed in from the side. They settled Gris-gris onto a backboard and fastened a collar around his neck. A paramedic in a white tunic came up to see to Bert's arm. One of the lieutenants threw his horse's reins to another and stayed on board to toss necklaces to the crowd. "Medical staff taking him off now. I'm still blocks from Canal Street, Griffen. I didn't have a chance to weave his scepter's power in with the others. I am so sorry."

Gris-gris signed to Bert. His high-cheekboned face had a gray pallor. Bert's heart went out to him as he leaned over the stretcher. "Don't tell Val. Spoil . . ."

"I won't. You hear that, Griffen?"

"I did. You did all you could, Bert. We're dealing with pros." Griffen felt a pang of worry, for Gris-gris, but also for Val. "Melinda?"

"She won't hear it from me," Melinda's voice insisted. "Just hang on to yours."

Fafnirwas already two hours into its march. Except for worrying about Stoner and the missing scepter, Griffen had been enjoying himself immensely. He had gone through three boxes of throws already, including the special LED dragons. He waved his scepter at everyone. Kids jumped up and down on the curb, yelling for necklaces and doubloons. He threw them in generous handfuls. The cups were a big hit. Everyone who caught one laughed at the slogan and nudged their neighbors.

Griffen couldn't believe how the corps-style bands could keep playing for hours on end. He would have been exhausted. Etienne said some bands earned as much as two thousand dollars a parade. They were worth more. The flag twirlers were still as perky and energetic as they had been when they set out, even though it was late in the evening.

The band behind his dragon's-head float played "If Ever I Ceased to Love" over and over in between other popular favorites. The monotonous slow waltz was like a reminder that Stoner was out there somewhere. He could just about feel the other's presence, like a sinister shadow looming. The disaster aboard the Nautilus king float made him think again how vulnerable he was. Bert was riding now with his arm in a quickset cast. Griffen was concerned about him and Gris-gris, but Etienne and Melinda reminded him again and again that his duties lay in what he was doing at that moment.

He knew how to be a parade king. He had seen enough parades in the week before. He nodded and smiled and threw goodies to the eager crowds. He brandished his scepter, feeling the sensation of heat in the air. He was surprised how much more power there seemed to be than the first day they had wielded the scepters. It was wrong that Stoner had prevented Bert from settling Water's force before he stole the wand from him. Griffen was determined that wouldn't happen to him. Having to be on guard, he almost couldn't enjoy what would be the greatest honor he had ever had, or might ever have.