The Return of Nathan Brazil

“One of your people’s religions has a tale of a fleeing people caught with their backs to the sea while a hostile army presses. At the proper moment the 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 address the multitudes. Their stun rods and stern expressions implied they would not be intimidated by a little hell-fire.

Gypsy looked nervously at the guards, chosen partially 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 deepest voice Gypsy had ever heard. Gypsy believed him.

“Stand aside, man,” Marquoz replied, his own foghorn 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 resolve a conflict that was beyond him. Finally he resolved 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 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 revealing 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 whispered 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 wonder 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 reasoned 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 cheerfully.

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 bartender 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 decide 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 unfortunate Gypsy took it, while the little dragon studied her. It was almost impossible to tell if she were 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 himself.

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 way around. Priestess or whatever, I am not a humble Policeman or a citizen of the Com or a Chugach at this point—Iam the Council and the Com! My time is valuable and has already been wasted too long in foolishness. You have ten seconds to yell, scream, and do whatever stupid and demeaning things you wish. After that, I will walk out this door unless we are discussing things rationally in another ten.”

Four Acolytes would have their minds wiped of the day’s activities for being so unfortunate as to have been within earshot. As for Yua, she had never been spoken to so rudely. Hers was a race born to command and securely in charge of its own destiny. Even outside, she had been drilled on her innate superiority to other humans and found that they were easy to stupefy and control—which, of course, had made Marquoz the perfect choice for this particular job.

The Chugach, observing her carefully while feigning disdain, dared to take a cigar out of his case and light