“And glamour is different?”
“Yeah, it is. There are a handful of powers out there…well, that doesn’t matter just now. Glamour is all about perception. Part of it is the dragon’s natural charisma. But that becomes augmented, and just how depends on the person who’s doing it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, to be blunt, I don’t think I could teach you glamour if I tried, I’m not even sure you could manage it. Because part of it is a lie to the victim, but another part is lying to yourself. And lying to yourself on purpose is a tricky business. You have to believe what you are making them believe, but, of course, a part of you knows it’s just the magic. You can see the pitfalls in that?”
“I think I need a drink; I almost understood that.”
“Yeah, pour us both one. And remember, this ain’t exactly my area. I’m passing on thirdhand knowledge at best.”
Griffen got up and poured the drinks. As he passed one to Mose, he raised his in silent toast and they both drank. Griffen sighed as he sat back in the chair.
“I would never have believed I’d run into something that made fire breathing seem simple,” he said.
“You’re still young; you’ll run into a lot more,” Mose said. “In the oldest legends glamour and illusion were almost the same. One could be made to see monsters and nightmares and all sorts of things. Though I haven’t heard of anything like that in the modern world, so it’s probably just myth.”
“Okay, this is all very confusing. Let’s get back to basics; how can you counter it? Does just knowing it is happening act as defense? Or does it take more.”
“Knowing what’s going on helps, and can keep you protected against casual leakage. But against a direct attack, it takes a bit more. Glamour of your own is the best. But really all you need is an exertion of will to reassert your personal perspective.”
“Which is done how?”
“Well, for you, you could probably just think hard. But actually this is where some of the old legends about counter curses and protective charms pop up from. You can use an object, some words, or even a hand gesture to focus your will behind. A physical reminder of what you are doing.”
“Oh, great, psychic cue cards.”
“Something like that. Also, if you are real good, with the physical aide you can disrupt them entirely. Their own lie falters, so if they are spreading their attention and affecting a room a little push from you can free the whole group. But it’s harder if they are just focused on one individual.”
“Could glamour be used to force someone to kill another?”
“Not that I know of, at least not if that killing goes against the person’s deepest nature. Again, the old legends…well, you might trick someone into thinking the person they were killing was someone or something else. Still, I think that’s pure myth, though.”
“I’m finding this real hard to believe,” Griffen said.
“But it fits what you’ve already suspected,” Mose said.
“Yeah. Yeah, it does. I think Valerie’s taken up with someone who’s more than he seems.”
“Huh, well, maybe I could take a look at her; see if she’s under a ’fluence.”
“From what you’ve said, only a few people have serious talent at this, even in dragon circles. Any idea who might be targeting Valerie?”
“Too early to say, I might know better when I see her. It’s such a style thing that if I’ve seen their work before I’ll recognize it.”
“And can I use my will to break her hold?”
“Yes and no, you can help, but with a dragon of her stature, you will also have to teach her how to break it. As soon as it comes from within, everything that he has laid on her should crumble like a badly made house of cards.”
“Good.”
“One more thing, Griffen, and this is purely from what I’ve heard. If I had a guess, touch would amplify it. Don’t ask why, pheromones directly, a direct channel to the psyche, I don’t know. But keep your guard up. Story goes, when two glamour users touch and go to war, the effects on the loser are devastating.”
“How devastating?”
“Well, the loser is pretty much stripped of his will, and the winner’s own is imposed directly.”
Mose paused and sipped his drink, and a small tremor ran through his body. If Griffen didn’t know any better, he would have thought the man was afraid.
“This here being New Orleans. Ever heard of zombies?”
It was Monday night. Actually, it was twelve thirty in the morning on Tuesday, but by Quarter reckoning that was still Monday. As was becoming his habit on Mondays when there wasn’t a game on the schedule, Griffen set aside the night to watch a movie or three on DVD.
The reason for this was simplicity itself. Officially, new DVDs were released nationally every Tuesday. The Quarter, being the Quarter and fiercely competitive for every dollar, had devised a way around this rule. Both the major multimedia stores in the Quarter, Tower and Virgin, stayed open until one in the morning on Mondays, allowing them to sell the new releases to the late-night Quarterites that didn’t want to wait until the next day.
Griffen had done his shopping this week at Tower. Even though it was a couple blocks farther from his complex than Virgin, they often had better prices. There was also a better selection of the old movies that he traditionally favored.
Walking along the riverside of Decatur Street, he mentally reviewed his selections with no small degree of self-satisfaction. Of particular pleasure was finding the old Danny Kaye movie,
As he walked, however, he slowly became aware that someone was behind him. Whoever it was neither fell back nor closed the distance, but seemed content to match his pace. That in itself was noteworthy, since, as a transplanted Northerner, Griffen tended to walk faster than most of the leisurely strollers in the Quarter.
His recent experiences had made him wary, so he decided to try one of the techniques Padre had coached him on to check a tail. Pausing in midstride, he set down his bag of DVDs and stooped down, loosening and retying his shoelace. The follower didn’t stop, closing the gap between them. Reclaiming his purchases, Griffen straightened and looked back. The approaching figure was instantly recognizable.
“Hey, Slim,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Actually, I was kinda lookin’ for you, Mr. Griffen,” the street entertainer said. “Can we talk for a few? Maybe over by the river?”
A small alarm sounded in Griffen’s mind.
“I’m sort of in a hurry,” he said casually. “Can we do it another time?”
“It’s really important,” Slim said, his voice flat.
Griffen stared at him for a long moment.
“Do we have a problem, Slim?” he said.
“That’s what I want to find out,” the entertainer said. “Shall we?”
He gestured toward the Moonwalk.
Griffen continued to hesitate.
“You know, Slim,” he said carefully, “I haven’t had much luck with surprise meetings lately.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Slim said. “But I ain’t no damn dope dealer ambushing you. I’m coming to you head on and axing to talk.”
Griffen made his decision.
“Lead on,” he said, gesturing for Slim to precede him.
