Queen of Wands-eARC

by John Ringo

  “Rigged or not, it’s the only game in town,” Hjalmar said as he threw on his mail. “What’s the plan? I take it I’m getting sentry again.”

  “Where have we missed?” Sharice asked.

  “It’s a huge con,” Drakon said. “We haven’t really hit the gaming areas. I covered the lower levels of the Hyatt yesterday. Ran into a fascinating guy in the anime room. He knew, like, every anime ever created and every martial arts movie ever. Even met Bruce Lee a couple of times.”

  “Costuming,” Hjalmar said, waving at his armor. “There’s a whole huge track on that over at the Hilton. And we didn’t really hit the Hilton much at all.”

  “Drakon, you take gaming,” Sharice said. “I’ll take costuming. Link up with Hjalmar at two. I’ll spell Hjalmar so he can get some food and rest. Then we roam again.”

  “Works,” Drakon said, shaking his head. “Gaming. Why’d it have to be gaming?”

  “Would you rather sit through lectures on period fabric making?” Sharice asked.

  “Come to think of it, I really want to check out the gaming room…”

  * * *

  “You look refreshed,” Kelly said as Doris exited the elevator.

  “I feel refreshed,” Doris said, heading to the lobby.

  “Let’s take the tubeway,” Kelly said, gesturing in the opposite direction. “This time of day it’s not too crowded, and it’s closer.”

  “I haven’t been this way before,” Doris said as they headed into the skyway. “I didn’t even know this was here.”

  “There are a half-dozen ways to get back and forth,” Kelly said. “Trust me, I know them all. And you can watch the crazies from up here,” he added, gesturing down to the street. “Like the guy in armor who looks as if he’s a sentry.”

  Doris stopped and considered the guy in period Norse costume.

  “He looks familiar,” she said.

  “That’s common,” Kelly replied, taking her arm. “And we’re walking…”

  “Lots of people in costume already,” Doris said.

  “This is when the con really gets going,” Kelly said as they proceeded on their way. “Most of the day registration is on Saturday. Which is why the day-reg line is so long. Tomorrow will be busy, too, what with the concerts and the Dawn contest.”

  “I’m going to do that,” Doris said, shyly.

  “Dawn?” Kelly said, surprised. “Well, you’re a natural for looks, but…What’s your costume?”

  “I haven’t really decided yet,” Doris said. “It’s going to be limited.”

  “Hmmm…” Kelly said, frowning. “Dawn’s not something to just jump into. I mean, not if you’re serious. It’s become almost a masquerade lately. People work all year on a costume for it. Just throwing something together? Good luck. And why Dawn?”

  “I’m trying to find out who I really am,” Doris said. “Dawn is about as far from who I am now as I can imagine.”

  “Then maybe it’s not who you really are,” Kelly said. “Maybe something like gaming is more your style. All that takes is brains and skill. You’ve clearly got the brains; all you need is the skill. And you can pick that up fast. If you just want to win something to prove something to yourself, well, one of the gaming contests is more likely.”

  “Hmmm…” Doris said, doubtfully.

  “Or, well, you’ve been doing costuming, right? Maybe something like the Iron Costumer contest. I wouldn’t suggest masquerade, that’s also something you work all year on. But there are more places to prove yourself, to find yourself, at Dragon*Con than Dawn. Just a thought.”

  “I’ll think on it,” Doris said as they exited into the food court. “Oh, I have been this way. I found the food court my first day. But I’ve mostly been eating in the con suite.”

  “Shane appreciates that, I’m sure,” Kelly said. “He goes to a lot of trouble to come up with solid meals even though his budget is really small for all the people he has to feed. And he never has enough staff. Most people aren’t willing to sell their souls to be con-suite zombies. But to get to the Marriott we go this way.”

  “I offered to help out,” Doris said. “In the con suite. But he said I had to have my brains removed.”

  “It’s not a con rule, it’s his,” Kelly said. “All con-suite staff must be zombies. I think it’s an African hospitality thing.”

  Doris giggled at that and then looked around in surprise as they entered the Marriott. “I never would have found this way if you hadn’t shown it to me.”

  “There are signs, but they’re more harm than help,” Kelly said. “There are a thousand paths around Dragon*Con. I like to try them all.”

  “Duncan said you can go anywhere.”

  “Dragon*Con is really about fifteen cons rolled into one,” Kelly said. “Media con, derivative con, anime con, lit con, fetish con. And each of those cons has dozens of little cliques. I try to fit in with them all.”

  “I imagine you mediate a lot,” Doris said.

  “Heh,” Kelly replied. “I’ll fix things from time to time. ‘Mediate’ would be a stretch. Most people would say the opposite.”

  “So are you staff?” Doris asked as they headed down the escalator. She didn’t notice in the crowds the small woman in robes exiting the back of the hotel.

  “I used to be a director,” Kelly said. “These days I just run the battlebot tournament. And occasionally MC. And whatever else strikes my fancy. And in here,” he continued, leading her into a ballroom, “we have Edmund’s demonstration about to start. I’d better introduce you quickly.”

  He led her to the front of the crowded room where an older man, balding and blocky, was laying out a collection of edged weapons. They ranged from small punch daggers up to halberds with just about every major type in between. A stocky, dark-haired woman with a friendly face was helping him with the layout. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned.

  “Edmund, it’s Kelly.”

  “Hello, Kelly,” Edmund said, neutrally. “To what do we owe the honor?”

  “I come bearing gifts,” Kelly said.

  “I’ll check my wallet,” Edmund replied.

  “Seriously. Duncan asked me to lead this lovely stray over and introduce her. Doris Grisham, Fig and Edmund Wodinaz. Ed and Fig, Doris. My work here is done.” With that, he wandered off.

  “Hey, Doris,” Fig said, shaking her hand. “Folsom mentioned you. Want to help out?”

  “Love to,” Doris said.

  “Well, grab some blades and start putting them up.”

  * * *

  Hjalmar watched the old woman coming across the road and sighed. She was heavyset, pear-shaped, and not short. But the reason for the two canes was clearly some sort of serious movement disability, not to mention age. She’d started at the front of the pack crossing the road, and by the time she was halfway across, the policeman stopping traffic was watching her with a baleful eye, as she was the only one still in the road.

  She finally made it to the steep, long stairs, took a look up from her hunched position, sighed, took both canes in one hand and grabbed the railing, preparing to hoist herself up.

  Hjalmar just couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Ma’am,” he said, walking over. “If you don’t mind, I can carry you up. If you can take a fireman’s carry.”

  “I accept,” the woman said after a moment’s pause. “I’d take the ‘handicapped’ entrance but it’s nearly as bad. And longer.”

  “This won’t take a second,” Hjalmar said, bending down and getting the woman across his shoulders. She was much heavier than she looked, and she didn’t look light.

  He carried her up the stairs and then set her down, carefully. He managed not to groan as the enormous weight came off.

  “Got your feet?” he asked.

  “Got it,” the woman said. “Thank you. May Frey bless you.”

  “You’re Asatru?” Hjalmar said, surprised.

  “No,” the woman said, laughing. “You are, silly. I’m of a much old
er religion than those upstarts.”

  Hjalmar nodded to her in a puzzled fashion and went back down the stairs to take up his sentry post.

  “Nice of you,” the security guy said. It was the same guy who had handed them their tickets the first day.

  “I just couldn’t stand the suspense of not knowing if she’d make it or not,” Hjalmar said, half ashamedly. He preferred a tough-guy image, frankly. “And I really wanted the image of her rolling back down out of my head.”

  “Al Mater is old, but she’s sturdy,” the security guy said, shrugging. “She’s been making the con since it’s been around and will probably be making it when everyone else has quit.”

  “Al Mater?” Hjalmar said, puzzled.

  “Con name,” the security guy said, shrugging. “I don’t know her true name. Don’t know anyone who does. Like I said, she’s been around for a looong time. Got a question for you.”

  “Shoot,” Hjalmar said, spotting and dismissing another redhead.

  “You were here pretty much all day yesterday.”

  “Yep.”

  “And you look to be settling in today. Nice threads, by the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So what’s up?”

  “Looking for a friend,” Hjalmar said. “We’re worried she’s in trouble. She doesn’t have a cell. We figure everybody has to come by here sometime. The other two are cruising the con. I stand here and look for redheads.”

  “More or less what I figured,” the guy said, extending a hand. “Ryan, by the way.”

  “Hjalmar.”

  “Here’s the thing. Since you’re going to be standing here anyway, why not join security?”

  “Excuse me?” Hjalmar said, surprised.

  “You’re going to be here anyway. If you’re here as security, we can free up one body. All you’ve got to do, in addition to looking for your friend, is check to make sure everyone has a badge. You’d be surprised what kind of people try to sneak into the con without paying. They’ll pay you back for your membership, and instead of your friends having to bring you drinks, we get powerups delivered.”

  “Powerups?” Hjalmar said, tilting his head.

  “Sandwich, PowerAde bottle, vitamins and a PowerBar,” Ryan said. “All you gotta do is go up to Room two-twenty-two—that’s con-ops and security—explain the situation, and you’re in. If they’ve got questions, tell ’em to call me.”

  “Hmmm…” Hjalmar said. “I may have to take off in a hurry.”

  “Go to room two-twenty-two.”

  “I’ll wait ’til I get relieved then go,” Hjalmar said. “We’re serious about finding this friend of ours. Two-twenty-two.”

  “Two-twenty-two.”

  * * *

  Edmund’s demonstration was a solid hour. The first thirty minutes covered, in brief, each of the weapons and their common forms of employment. Then fifteen minutes were a demonstration of axe, war hammer and long sword against various forms of armor. Pig shoulders, mail, and plate were expertly chopped and diced. He may have used a cane, normally, but put a sword in his hand and he came alive. The last fifteen were questions and answers.

  Doris’s part was to be the pretty assistant. She was initially surprised that when Edmund began discussing a particular weapon she could pick it out immediately. But just as Edmund seemed to change with a sword in his hand, so did she. It was more than “the pointy end goes at the bad guy.” The feel of a sword awakened something in her that she hadn’t known was there.

  When the demonstration was finished, she and Fig started collecting up the weapons while Edmund answered still more questions. She lifted one of the swords and sighted along the blade. It wasn’t a period weapon; Edmund referred to it as a “fantasy sword” based on a falchion, but it was the most perfect weapon she could imagine. At least for cutting flesh. Long and curved with the blade thickened towards the end, the balance was beautiful. She waved it slightly then flipped it in her hand, a motion that Edmund had demonstrated, but also demonstrated was difficult for a beginner.

  “You look as if you were made for that sword,” Fig said, smiling.

  “It’s beautiful,” Doris exclaimed. “I don’t care if he says it’s a fantasy sword. If there wasn’t someone, somewhere, who used one like this in battle, there should have been.”

  “You seem familiar with the pieces,” Fig said.

  “I guess,” Doris said. “I certainly like them.”

  “Could you give us a hand getting these up to the room?” Fig asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  The collection was a huge mass, but between the three of them and a baggage cart, they managed to get them all up to a room in the Marriott in one load.

  “Thank God that’s over,” Edmund said, settling into a chair.

  “Are you okay?” Fig asked.

  “Just short of breath,” Edmund said. “I’m getting old, honey.”

  “You’re never going to get old,” Fig said. “You just get better.”

  “I get better with young lovelies around, that’s for sure,” Edmund said, winking at Doris. “Thank you for helping out. It was more help than you realize. I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Doris said, still holding the falchion. She flipped it again and shook her head. “Someday I’ll be able to afford a sword like this.”

  “Well, you can borrow it if you need to,” Fig said. “But for the time being, try this.”

  She pulled out what was almost the sketch of the same sword made from sections of wood bound together at both ends but slightly separated in the middle.

  “Those are my new training swords,” Edmund said. “They have the same heft and balance as a live blade, but you don’t have to worry about leaving your arm lying on the ground.”

  “Why not rattan?” Doris asked, doing a sweep. He was right, it was the identical balance.

  “Hand it over,” Edmund said. When he had it in his hand he popped her, hard, on the butt. “That’s why.”

  “That barely hurt,” Doris said, taking the sword back. Not nearly as much as a hickory switch, she thought.

  “Rattan would have left a bruise,” Fig said. “With these, all you need for live fighting is a face mask and helmet. They’re even better than wrapped rattan or PVC. You can hit somebody on an unprotected joint and it won’t cause any damage.”

  “Since you like the falchion so much, take that one with you,” Edmund said. “I have others. There’s a scabbard.”

  “Thank you,” Doris said as Fig loaded her with a scabbard and baldric. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I’m sure you will find a way to use it well,” Fig said.

  * * *

  Barbara felt bad that she hadn’t been able to stop by the safe house before. But she’d been busy. Now she laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

  “Come on, Janea,” she said, drawing on the power of God and channeling it to her friend. The fact that an Asatru worshipper of a fertility goddess was one of God’s children in His eyes was proven simply because she could send her friend power. “I need some backup. This FBI guy is getting freaked by invisible demons. I need somebody to take his mind off of them. You’d be perfect.”

  There was not a flicker on the monitors, but Barbara hoped the power would help out.

  * * *

  When Hjalmar got back from his break, Sharice raised an eyebrow at his new badge and lanyard.

  “Security?” she said.

  “I’m here, anyway,” Hjalmar said. “All I have to do is check badges.”

  “Hjalmar,” Sharice said, pulling him to the side. “Try to remember this is the astral plane.”

  “I do,” Hjalmar said.

  “You’re joining security for a sector of the astral plane,” Sharice said. “I know the whole ‘maintaining’ thing is ritual for you, but…this could be a serious complication.”

  “I told them what’s going on, that we’re looking for a friend. And that I have to leave by midnight, and that I
may have to leave in a hurry. They didn’t have any problems with it.”

  “Try your silver cord,” Sharice said.

  Hjalmar closed his eyes, then yawned.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Now I’m tired. It’ll be fine. And if one of you guys can cover for me here from time to time, I’ve got access to all sorts of areas now that we didn’t have before. I doubt Janea is in any of them, but if we get a sniff I can look.”

  “Okay,” Sharice said, doubtfully. “I’m going to go check out the Hyatt. Good luck. Hopefully, wherever Janea is, she’s not getting into too much trouble.”

  * * *

  “Bran, I need to apologize,” Doris said.

  “I can’t imagine what for,” the director said as people shuffled out of the panel.

  “I need to pay you back for the materials I used,” Doris said. “I feel like such a fool. I knew there was no way I was coming to a con with no money.”

  “And you remembered…” Bran said, smiling.

  “I put it in my backpack,” Doris said, ducking her head. “I had plenty of money with me. What a ditz!”

  “You didn’t use hardly anything in materials,” Bran said. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. Are you going to costume tonight?”

  “Yes,” Doris said. “I knew what I wanted to do but I just couldn’t figure out how to make it. Not in time, and the materials would have been expensive. I’m going to do the belly-dancer thing.”

  “Good for you,” Bran said. “That’s a nice step up.”

  “And I get to wear a veil,” Doris said. “Now, where do I look?”

  “Dealers Room or the Exhibitors Hall,” Bran said. “Try stall 938. Heki does great costumes. Have fun.”

  The Dealers Room was downstairs from the panel rooms, but the Exhibitors Halls were on the same level. She headed that way and was somehow unsurprised to run into Kelly.

  “Hey, Kelly,” Doris said. “I’m going shopping for harem-girl outfits. I’ll probably have to try on several. Want to come along?”

  “Be still my beating heart,” Kelly said, grabbing at his chest. “I thought you didn’t have any money?”

  “I found some in my backpack,” Doris said, shrugging. “I guess I forgot I put it in there. Anyway, time to get busy on a costume for tonight.”