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sea parts. You do it like this."
The dragon removed a flask hanging from his belt, drained it, then replaced
it. Then he formed an oval with his wide mouth, inhaled, and slowly blew.
There was the smell of brimstone, and fire shot forth. Marquoz, with Gypsy
close at his side, had absolutely no problem clearing a path through the
crowd.
A greater obstacle was the horde of security Acolytes surrounding the
entrances to the State Hall steps from which the High Priestess Yua was to
ad-dress the multitudes. Their stun rods and stern expres-sions implied they
would not be intimidated by a little hell-fire.
Gypsy looked nervously at the guards, chosen par-tially for their size and
bulk, but Marquoz simply chose the biggest, toughest, nastiest-looking of the
lot and walked right up to him. The stun rod rose slightly.
"None may pass!" the Acolyte intoned in the deep-est voice Gypsy had ever
heard. Gypsy believed him.
"Stand aside, man," Marquoz replied, his own fog-horn voice not a little
intimidating. "We represent the
Com Council."
"None may pass," the guard repeated, and raised the stun rod a little higher
for emphasis. Gypsy could tell by the man's manner that he was just itching to
use it, perhaps even more painfully than its designers intended. There was no
doubt the fellow could use it as a club to break heads.
"Didn't I say we were from the Com Council?" Marquoz repeated patiently. "I am
Com Police, and any attempt to prevent me in the performance of my duty is
punishable by death."
The big man was not impressed. "None may pass." This time he added, "Not even
the Com is above the will of God."
Gypsy was somewhat relieved to learn that the man knew more than three words.
If he knew several more he might still be reasoned with.
"Your mistress sent for me, "Marquoz told the guard. "Your group seeks our
assistance in matters concerning your quest. We were nice enough to agree to
talk about it, and your mistress set this as a convenient meeting place. Now,
it's your people who want something of us, not the other way around.
You can admit us, tell your mistress that we are here, or send us away. We
will convey indirectly to her who prevented the meeting. Your choice. In ten
seconds I'm leaving."
The little dragon had made a tactical mistake. The guard had been provided
with three choices and that was one too many. He looked puzzled, trying to
re-solve a conflict that was beyond him. Finally he re-solved it by falling
back on orders. "I have been told to expect no one and admit no one," he
responded.
"Not even Nathan Brazil?" Marquoz shot back.
The guard blinked. "But of course, if the Lord God should "
Marquoz wasn't even going to let him finish. "Ah, but your orders said none
shall pass, and surely you were not told to expect Nathan Brazil yet you would
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admit him. Either you make exceptions or you don't. If you don't, you'd bar
even Brazil; if you do, then please let us in to go about our business."
That was too much for the guard. He turned to a younger, slightly less
imposing Acolyte. "Brother, tell the mistress that there's a giant lizard out
here who says he's a cop and wants to see her."
The brother nodded, turned, and left. Marquoz reached into his jerkin and
extracted a silver cigar case inlaid with a very odd coat of arms. He removed
a cigar and lit it in his customary manner. The guard blinked in fascination.
Marquoz composed a grin re-vealing numerous nasty teeth and held up the case.
"Have a cigar?" he asked pleasantly.
The guard just continued to stare, and the Chugach shrugged and put the case
away, settling back on his huge tail to wait. Gypsy rolled his eyes and turned
to watch the crowd.
Eventually the other Acolyte returned and whis-pered to the big guard and
several others. Finally he sauntered over to them.
"The High Priestess will see you," he told them, "but not until after the
services, which are due to start any minute now. Please wait until then."
Marquoz sighed. "How long will these services take?"
"Usually two hours," the Acolyte replied. "They are quite inspiring, and with
this crowd should prove an experience that will move mountains." His eyes
shone. "I have been with them since the beginning, you know," he added
proudly.
The dragon snorted, then turned to Gypsy. "I won-der if there's any place left
in this dump to get a drink?"
Gypsy shrugged. "Probably not, but it's worth a try."
"We'll be back," Marquoz promised, "in two hours or so."
As it happened they did find a little bar open; the proprietor was a steadfast
materialist who kept railing to his only two customers about how the cult was
a plot by the ruling classes to further oppress the masses.
In spite of their distaste for the man's poorly rea-soned polemics, the dragon
cop and his strange human friend remained in the bar until almost a half-hour
after they noted the first crowds departing the square.
Finally Marquoz stood up and started for the door. "Well, time to go find out
if somebody who asks for favors then cools the heels of the person she wants a
favor from likes that treatment herself," he said cheer-fully.
The bartender broke off his discourse. "Hey! Wait a minute, you two! You owe
me for the drinks!"
Gypsy turned and smiled. "Why, I'm surprised at you, sir. Oppressing the
masses like that by asking for something as common and distasteful as money.
The root of all evil, you know."
"What're you? Some kinda anarchist creep?" the bar-tender sneered, reaching
under the bar. "Pay up or
I seal the door and we wait for the cops."
The Chugach stopped, reached into his jerkin, and pulled out a folding wallet.
"But, dear sir, I
am the police," he pointed out.
They were outside before the bartender could de-cide whether or not to risk
it.
The High Priestess was royally pissed, enough so that her manner betrayed her
inner rage even as she strove to keep her features properly impassive. "You
were due here long ago," she accused, like a queen snubbed by commoners. She
addressed Gypsy with her opening comments.
Marquoz let her ramble on for a bit, and the unfor-tunate Gypsy took it, while
the little dragon studied her. It was almost impossible to tell if she were
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the same one he had encountered on the freighter she had exactly the same
coloration and was otherwise a perfect copy. He finally decided that they'd
never met. The original would not have mistaken Gypsy for him-self.
Finally, when she paused in her tirade, he stepped in. "Citizen Yua, if you
are quite through berating my good friend, who otherwise has no connection
with the government, I shall be happy to discuss the matter at hand with you."
The Olympian started, puzzled at first by the sudden turn, then
embarrassed not by her mistake but for being caught in it and finally once
again, this time at the proper target. "How dare you treat me like this?" she
fumed, and it seemed as if Gypsy and Marquoz were to be favored with an
instant replay of her first assault.
"Shut up and sit down," Marquoz responded quickly, cutting her off.
"What?"
"I said shut up and sit down. It is you who have to impress me, not the other
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