Dragon's Luck: The Dragonbound Chronicles Page 3
I said, “What about the armed guards?”
She laughed again. “They’re there to keep people out, not to keep the family in. You can’t tell me you don’t understand the value of privacy. Now, getting back to business, if you get matters settled with Auntie, you might wind up being able to visit Gilead sometime. Then you can make up your own mind.”
“I just don’t want to give up on Living Land. I think it would find an audience.” I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “I don’t want to think I wasted two years of my life on it.”
Nadia thought for a moment. “Let me tell you a story my stepfather told me. It may have happened, it may not have happened, but the truth is that long ago, there was a tribe of people who used flint weapons. These weapons could kill and dress deer, so the people were happy, and never learned to use anything else. Flint was their world.
“Then a great beast came to their lands, and the people’s flint weapons shattered against the beast’s hide. The beast killed the people, and their animals, and their children, and the people were powerless against it. This continued for many nights, and the people knew the beast would kill them all. At last, one man stood up and said he would go to the cave where the children of stone lived, and he would beg them for a weapon. This he did.”
“The children of stone listened to his plea, and granted his request. The price they demanded was an eye, which he plucked out with his own hands. With the price paid, the forging of the first sword began.
“The man watched as the children of stone extracted metal from ore, and poured molten iron into a mold of sand. He watched the hammers rise and fall, forming the blade. He watched as they shaped the edge, and as they bathed the edge with carbon paste to quicken the iron to steel. And he watched as they heated the blade to temper it and saw the color of the steel. But sight alone could not tell him the temperature of the oil the sword would be quenched in. He stuck his finger in the oil, and the master smith struck off half of the man’s arm with the sword he had just purchased. But even without his arm, the man remembered the temperature of the oil.
“The man returned to his village, and used the blade to strike the great beast’s head from its shoulders. He became a hero and acclaimed as the leader of the people. He taught his people the secrets of steel, and from that day onward they were not afraid of the night.”
Nadia paused and wagged her finger at me. “Now, student, were the years of working flint wasted?”
I shook my head. “The obvious answer is yes, so I’m going with no.”
“Correct. You win a cookie.” She leaned forward and said, “Nothing that makes you stronger is wasted. You are who you are because of those two years. What is the difference between a Hero and a Leader?”
I smiled. “I think I know this one. A Hero places him or herself between the community and the danger threatening them. A Leader makes the decisions needed to keep the community alive.”
“I’ll accept that. The answer Angus gave me was that a Hero was able to die for his people, while a Leader was able to go on living after sending his people to die. He’s retired army, so a little cynicism is to be expected.”
“It’s an interesting answer, but I think I’ll stick with mine.” I got up and said, “Let’s move this to Flatirons and look at the numbers again.”
When we got there, Rex, one of the guys on the simulation programming team, was sitting in my chair with his feet up on my solid oak conference table eating a roll filled with pulled pork and barbeque sauce. He was holding the sandwich off to the side so the globs of greasy sauce would fall on my carpeting instead of his shirt.
Rex looked at me and sprayed half-chewed sandwich everywhere. He got his feet off the table and tried to stand up. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I just needed some peace and quiet, you know?” Standing up made it obvious his zipper was down. The cell phone on the floor kept running, and no, he wasn’t watching last week’s episode of his favorite television show.
I picked up a trash can and told Nadia, “Please go get Suzanne. I need her in here now.” She scampered. I held out the trash can and said, “This is not the break room.”
Rex looked at the trashcan and shook his head. “Dude, lunch cost me ten bucks! I’m not tossing it.”
I smiled at him, and didn’t need a mirror to know my eyes were shining with battle-joy. “Throw your food away and zip your pants or the EMTs are going to find you unconscious and bleeding in the bathroom.” I kept my voice level, but it did nothing to conceal just how much I’d enjoy his refusal.
He threw the food away.
Nadia returned with Suzanne and excused herself. Half an hour later Rex walked to his car with his stuff in a box, escorted by the police officer I’d requested. Half the office joined me in watching out the windows until Rex drove away.
Mitch joined me at the window. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
“Very much.” I turned to him and said, “Rex was the third former co-worker of yours we’ve had to terminate for gross unprofessionalism. I’m suspending your authorization to make personnel decisions until further notice. Now, let your friends know they need to get their shit together. The free ride is over.”
He snarled at me but nodded. “Fine.” He started to walk away.
“Mitch.” I waited for him to turn around. “From now on, when you’re in the office, wear some goddamn shoes. That’s an order.”
When I got back to the conference room, Nadia was kneeling next to the stained section of carpet. She looked up and said, “We got lucky. The carpet has some serious stain repellent on it.” She stood up and tied the bag lining the trash can closed. “I’ll toss this into the dumpster and see if the building maintenance has any cotton cloth to finish the table with.” She was out the door before I could say anything.
She was right about the carpet, though. It wasn’t even damp or discolored. I decided to count myself lucky, until I looked under Mitch’s chair. He’d spilled a latte six months ago, knocking his cup off the table with his damn dirty feet. The stain had resisted a round of steam cleaning, but now the carpet was spotless.
A few wild ideas jumped to mind, but I waved them away. Property management must have brought in different service with better gear. I tossed the missing stain into the back of my mind.
When Nadia returned, we got to the business of working out exactly what we’d need in order to have three races, four classes, and three to five playable levels to demonstrate at BuzzCon. She had no problem giving me realistic estimates of required time for programming and testing, but even our best-case scenarios didn’t meet the show deadline.
Rose swept in the door just before lunch, wearing jingling bells and swirling lengths of bright gauzy silk. “We were victorious,” she announced. “We awed our competition into abject surrender with our magnificence.” She shimmied her way into my arms and kissed me. “I have won the right to collect tribute from slobbering horny men. What have you been doing with your day?”
“Threatened to fire half of the staff, including Mitch, and actually fired one person so far. There’s another guy who’s wrapping up his workload and turning in his notice, and Mitch is no longer allowed to make personnel changes. I’ll tell you the rest later.”
“Fine. You can anoint me with wine and chocolate, bathe me with treasure, and regale me with tales of your exploits. Who’s she?”
I pulled away enough to make introductions. “Rose, this is Nadia Llewellyn. Nadia, this is our CFO and my fiancée, Rose Drake.”
“Nice to meet you,” Nadia said.
“I’m sure it is.” Rose sniffed at her and asked, “Are you one of the Llewellyn Industries Llewellyns?”
“Yes and no. I’m a member of the family, but I don’t work for the company. I’m not a spy, either.” Nadia didn’t look spooked by Rose’s odd behavior, but she gave me a quick glance and a raised eyebrow.
Rose saw it, too. “Oh, relax. I’m just high on attention right now.” She kissed me and looked at Nadia. “I need
to go get changed. Nadia, do you mind seeing me naked?”
Nadia chortled. “Usually it’s my mother getting lines like that. I’ll help you change if you need a hand, but I’m not on the market.”
“Perfect. There’s one set of laces I have trouble reaching.” Rose grabbed her gym bag and the two went down the hall. When they came back, Rose was in normal office attire and makeup. She dropped into a chair and asked, “Is all this something we need to order food in for, or can we go out and discuss it?”
“Order in,” I said. “Indian work for everyone?”
While we waited for Bengali Tiger to deliver a pile of kormas, masalas, and a Dragon-sized order of vindaloo, I briefed Rose on the status reports and deadlines on the whiteboards. Rose added a financial timeline, showing different ranges where we’d run out of money. Those ranges didn’t overlap with the completion estimates in the slightest. I didn’t bother asking Rose about using the cash in our savings account, so I was floored when she brought it up.
“It’s simple business,” she said. “We passed ‘good money after bad’ a year ago. Now the only chance to see a return of any portion of our investment is to go all in, and I want to see a return. I’m tired of this company interfering with our wedding plans.” She sucked the meat off three chicken legs and dropped the bones in the trash. “It’s Las Vegas, after all. Isn’t going all in on a risky bet and winning what that city is all about?”
“No, it’s about losing everything and pawning your clothes for a bus ticket home.” I threw my hands up in the air. “Let’s go for it anyway. It makes a better story that way.” I looked at Nadia and asked, “How many junior family members have the skills we need, and how many of those could you get to come to Colorado?”
Nadia shrugged and poured herself more mango lassi. “How many can you afford?”
Chapter Three
The Odds May Be Never in Your Favor
The flight attendant woke me up just before our flight started its final approach to Las Vegas. Local time was one thirty in the morning. BuzzCon setup started in six hours, and Rose wouldn’t be here until tonight with our clothes and luggage. My bag allowance had gone to three big honkin’ steel cases holding a server and a dozen laptops.
I schlepped the cases out of baggage claim and went through five cabbies before getting one driving an SUV. The driver was five-foot nothing, around ninety pounds, and she lifted the cases as though they were tin lunchbox totes.
While we drove, I asked, “Do you work out, or just bench press luggage all day?”
“Neither! I am delicate Russian flower.” She laughed. “I did body building in Israeli Defense Force. I am from Moscow, but my family moved to Tel Aviv. I move to Vegas eighteen years ago. I kept up the weights. Also I kept up Krav Maga. Someone gets stupid with me, I break them. That’s why I stay. All the stupid in the world comes to Las Vegas.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
Soon enough, the distinct Sun Elven architecture of the Trove hotel and casino came into view. White marble towers crowned with crimson tiles and highlighted with gold leaf, flying the rival banners of Law and Chaos over the city. Vegas had casinos based on New York, Paris, Venice, and ancient Egypt, but the Trove was, literally, like no place else on Earth.
The taxi slid under a crimson and gold Way Gate—the Elven version of a Japanese torii—and up to an immense, full-size replica of the marble gates to the city of Stormhaven. The battle-scarred crenellations loomed over the porte-cochere, “majestic and defiant, despite the gouges left by the Great Dragon Manduvexilloncar’s claws.”
That’s the actual quote from the hotel brochure. I shit you not.
A nine-foot Minotaur in full battle armor lumbered up to the cab. His gear had to be an epic set; parts of it were glowing and his axe had a ball of plasma in the middle of it. He leaned into the window and thundered, “Jeka chagat choov?” The rough translation is, “How can I help you?” The actual phrase in Morga means “What else are you incapable of?”
I pointed to the cases and said, “Choov ha deka!” That was Morga for “You carry my burdens.” Since Minotaurs refuse to carry anything but armor and weapons—and the money to buy more—it was a heinous insult that also happened to be both short and easy to pronounce.
The Minotaur roared an oath to the Great Sky Bull to kill me and use my skin as a drum before storming off. He went in through the gates as a bellhop with a trolley came out. The bellhop loaded my cases up while I paid the cabbie. As we headed inside, the bellhop said, “Welcome to the Trove, sir. Enjoy your stay.”
The Trove was the latest mega-resort to light up the Vegas skyline. The doors actually opened three weeks ago, but this weekend was the official grand opening. Both the Trove and BuzzCon were owned and operated by Avalanche Entertainment, makers of the world’s most popular—and profitable—online role-playing game. The one and only Warblade.
The entire property replicated famous locations and events from the Warblade game world. Most of the property used Sun Elf architecture, since Sun Elves were politically neutral and had the most ostentatious buildings. Nothing else had the flash to compete for attention in Vegas. The general staff wasn’t in costume, but there were a lot of actors. The Minotaur had to be a three- or four-hour makeup job by himself. Worth it, though; he made an amazing first impression.
Second impressions weren’t too shabby, either. Winged cats perched on the pillars lining the lobby, always moving and staying just out of reach. A few Orc berserkers wearing chain and fur scraps wandered through the lobby, but they stayed away from the registration desk. The flowers in the ivy covering the lobby walls moved, pointing toward me and quivering. The lobby led down to a shopping district fronted by a three-tiered fountain. Signs around the base advised that dancing on the fountain was forbidden and the hotel was not responsible for injuries.
As I stepped up to the registration desk, a trio of guards on armored griffons whizzed by overhead, pointing and waving as they passed over me. I tried to block the lights so I could see what was holding the griffons up, but the designers had hidden whatever it was too well.
The young lady behind the desk said, “The track is hard to see unless the maintenance lights are on. It’s an upside-down magnetic levitation monorail. Kind of a high-speed ski lift.”
I looked up again and chuckled. Sure, any job gets boring in time, but that one had a pretty high cool factor.
While I was pondering the griffons, a sky-blue Damazi female—a blue half-demon with satyr-like legs and a furry tail—sidled up next to me, light sparkling off her mother-of-pearl horns. She batted her eyes and purred, “Do you have forty feet of rope and a bucket of sprocket grease?”
I had to laugh. That’s one of the best pick-up lines in the game, and she had the semi-French Damazi accent down pat. I went with, “Nothing moves you like a steam-driven piston assembly,” in my best squeaky Gnome voice. She laughed as well, and I got a look at the other side of her face. Under the makeup, her battle scars were real. I looked down to see how she was doing the faun legs and realized what I was seeing couldn’t work. Unless she was a dual amputee, that is.
She was.
She waited for me to look back up and tapped the index and middle fingers of her right hand on her left shoulder, mimicking the game’s Looking For Group animation. “Care to join me somewhere quiet for a couple of one-on-one scenarios? The drops are all epic.”
The girl checking me in gave the Damazi a stern look and went back to the registration terminal. “Mister Fraser, you’re all set. I’ll get someone to help you with your cases. If you’re hungry, the Second Watch diner is right across from the fountain and is open twenty-four hours a day. Would you like to set a wakeup call?”
“Six, please.” I collected my key card and thanked her. The Damazi cocked her head at me and raised her eyebrows. It took me a few seconds to recall the right phrase from the role play guide. “May we converse in the common tongue?” In other words, switch to out-of-character mode.
I kept my eyes on hers. “Please call me David. I am alone tonight, but my fiancée will be joining me tomorrow. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to, ah, pass on collecting any loot drops. If I were single, I’d be happy to buy you a drink. This is a great outfit.”
She handed me a gold piece with her silhouette on it. “I’m Lorena. If your lady wants to party too, I’ll give you a half-price deal for the whole night. Think about it.” She turned around and rubbed her tail against my side. “Akoraii barathas.” Light protect you. She glided off across the lobby and out to the taxi stand.
Hooo…that lady is one heck of a random encounter. I dropped the coin in my pocket and waved to the bellhop. “I’d like to go to my room, please.”
Once we were in the elevator, the bellhop said, “Miss Lorena isn’t on the staff. She’s a costume maker in the local gaming community. She lost her legs in Iraq when an IED blew up under the transport she was driving. We’ve been directed not to interfere with her personal activities as long as she’s…discreet. She has received several glowing reviews—”
I cut him off. “I’m all for supporting the troops, but I’m engaged and my fiancée is coming in tomorrow.” The bellhop nodded and limited his comments to getting the cases stored in my room. I tipped him a twenty and went back downstairs to see what the diner had on the menu.
One big mushroom omelet and a bunch of bacon later, I went back to my room and collapsed into bed. After thirty minutes, I sat up and logged on to my Glory of War account. The room had a brand new gaming rig, already loaded with the latest version of Spartan’s best-selling first-person shooter. I picked an open firefight and waded into the free-for-all.