"I welcome you all to the Ritual of the Four Elements. According to ancient charter, for the well-being of the city and the environs of this province of New Orleans, groups representing each of the principal elements of nature are called together to grant their blessings upon the coming season. Prosperity, safety, and goodwill toward all!
Griffen groaned to himself. He had come across mention of pseudoreligious rites associated with Mardi Gras. Etienne had not given him much information about this meeting, other than it was their first with the other three krewes marching on February 24. The woman standing behind Doug grinned and put out a hand.
"Holly Goldberg," she whispered. "Sprite of the Krewe of Aeolus." She had round cheeks and hazel eyes, with laugh lines at the corners. Her hair, which fell well below her waist, was dishwater blond, going naturally gray at the temples. Griffen guessed she was in her forties. She had a solid grip.
"Griffen McCandles."
"This is Costain Wrayburn and Bert Leopold." The other two shook hands with Griffen. Wrayburn was tall, burly, muscular but running to fat, probably in his early fifties. His hair, while still black, clung in a scanty tonsure around a pink scalp. Griffen guessed that he had played football, in school if not professionally. He held himself like an athlete. Bert Leopold had small features but a lantern jaw. His eyes were brilliant green, his tightly curled hair reddish brown and shot with gray. His tawny skin was so weathered Griffen could not guess his age. He could have been anything between thirty and ninety.
"It is a great privilege for me to be here today. This ritual has not been performed in over sixty years. It is only now that Fafnir has been reestablished that all four groups can be brought together again. The need to renew the city's protections is always great, but never more than lately, when this great nation has been under attack by hostile forces, both natural and human."
"Humans are natural," Wrayburn growled under his breath. It sounded like an old gripe of his.
". . . Therefore, we begin the process to protect our home. Step forward, the Kings of the Elements!"
Griffen took a pace. He felt like Harry Potter, but this time his name was in the cup on purpose. The audience cheered.
"Now, before we begin," Doug cautioned them, "you must vow to keep the secret of what you are about to behold. Parents, you know if your children are capable of understanding what that means. If not, please take them out now."
No one moved. Doug nodded over the heads of the audience. The people standing by the doors locked them. Griffen felt the hum of voices take on an ominous tone.
"Okay, then, Matt?"
Matt came out from behind the curtain near the east door with a large box like a metal suitcase. It was gilded and ornamented in the style of the Louis kings of France.
"Do you all solemnly swear to keep secret and never tell any living soul the rites you are about to witness? Do you promise to uphold and protect the devices and elements of the Ritual of the Four Elements? Signify now by saying, 'I swear.' "
The audience echoed. "I swear."
"All righty, then." Matt hoisted the box into his arms and presented it to Doug. Doug opened it.
"Oooooh," chorused the crowd.
Griffen reeled backward. He felt as if he had been hit with a two-by-four. The power that had been contained within the case was overwhelming. His eyes filled with tears. So did Holly's. The other two men, though they looked impressed, merely investigated the contents of the box with interest.
Nestled into folds of golden velvet perishing with age were four golden objects. Griffen could not easily define them. In shape and size they were like extralong pancake turners, except the paddle part of each had been wrought into a different fantastic shape. Griffen figured out immediately which belonged to what element. Air was rendered as the outline of many overlapping silver-gilt clouds, dusted with glittering blue crystals. The mountain shape at the top of Earth had dark red and grass green crystals. A glistening bubble dotted with aqua and moss green was Water. And Fire . . . Griffen felt his own eyes glow. The stylized flame of the top almost seemed to flicker because of the red and gold crystals set around the edge and licking upward from the handle in lines like living fire. He reached for it. Holly's hand snapped up and slapped his down. He looked at her in shock. She winked at him. Griffen withdrew it sheepishly.
Doug continued his narration. "These scepters will be yours to wield during the parade, when we charge you to set your element in order. This custom began overseas centuries ago and came over with the European founders of this city. For the protection of all, for the good of all, you must first raise the power of your element in the coming days so there will be sufficient to bind on the destined day, so by the time of penance, known as Ash Wednesday, this city and its environs will know security for another year or," he added, with a grin, "another sixty." The audience chuckled. "We-all don't intend that the next one will be that long after this."
"This is all purely ceremonial, of course," Griffen said.
Wrayburn smiled gravely at him. "No, Griffen. This is for real."
"Earth, our mother, the base under our feet, she who sustains us, and to whom our bodies belong, take your scepter."
Costain Wrayburn grasped the mountain wand and hoisted it over his head. The onlookers cheered. Doug shushed them.
"Hold it to the end, folks. Water, from which life emerged, the pathway and artery of our city, take your scepter. Air, the breath and the wind, guardian of music and flight, take your scepter." As Doug spoke, the next two assumed their devices. "Fire, the divine spark, the power of the sun brought down to us mere mortals, take your scepter." Griffen reached for the last rod in the box and raised it to the cheers of the audience.
As soon as his fingers closed on it, Griffen gasped. Instead of holding the wand, it seemed to take hold of him. A warm force radiated into his flesh, racing down his arm, into his body. It spread out to his head and feet. Finding nowhere else to go from there, it felt like it was shooting around inside him like a pinball banging from paddle to ringer to target, except the pinball was made of lava. Holly reached over and put her hand on his forehead. A cool sensation spread out from her palm.
"Calm," she said. "Control it. Don't let it control you."
Griffen had tried meditation a few times in his life, never seriously, but he knew techniques. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. The pinball slowed down. It stopped ricocheting around and rolled gently up into a spot just behind his solar plexus. He was aware of it, but it no longer hurt. His head rang as if counting up the points. Griffen opened his eyes. They weren't burning anymore.
Holly took her hand away. "That's better."
Once the energy stopped battering him, Griffen had a chance to examine the scepter. It was far heavier than it looked. It might have been solid gold. The glittering crystals were not glass. They were jewels. The light danced in them, teasing his eyes.
"I've never felt power in an inanimate object before," Griffen said. "It went through me like . . ."
"Shh. We don't speak of it," Holly said. "Come and talk with us later, all right? We'll have a drink."
"Face your element now," Doug instructed them. "Antaeus, you are the north. Aeolus, you are the east. Fafnir, you are the south. Nautilus, you are the west." He arranged them back-to-back, shoulders touching, facing down one of the aisles toward a wall or a door.
Griffen imitated the others when they raised their wands toward the ceiling. He felt a little silly, playacting in front of four whole krewes. They were eating it up, but it was all theater. The scepters were made by people who had some inherent power and really enjoyed what they were doing. What did the audience expect to see? Should he wave it around like a fairy godmother?