Queen of wands sc-2

by John Ringo

  “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 older 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.”<
br />
  “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.”

  “Lead the way, fair maiden,” Kelly said. “Fortunately, my wife is a director and busy in the Hyatt, two hotels away. And, of course, nobody ever gossips at Dragon*Con. I should be safe.”

  “I can’t wear this in public!” Doris said, holding up the harem-girl pants. They were, essentially, transparent.

  “Well, maybe not with a thong,” Kelly said. “Unless you’re willing to really let it all hang out.”

  “I don’t w…I don’t ha…” Doris stammered. “I can’t wear this in public! I thought it would have more coverage than this!”

  “You’re thinking I Dream of Jeannie.” Heki was a short woman with a lined face and black hair shot with white. “That would look fabulous on you, dear.”

  “Kelly, I’m sorry I dragged you along,” Doris said, shaking her head. “But I can’t try this on. Not and let anyone see it.”

  “If you don’t let anyone see it, you’re not going to wear it tonight,” Kelly said. “It’s not that bad.”

  “I dunno…” Doris said.

  “If you really want, I’ll shut my eyes,” Kelly said. “And there’s always gaming. You’re dressed for that. If baggy shirts and jeans are what you want to dress like, you don’t have to wear a harem-girl outfit. Don’t let people pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, being somebody you don’t feel comfortable being.”

  “That’s a good point,” Doris said, frowning.

  “You want to think about it?” Kelly asked. “I know where there’s a Magic tournament.”

  “No,” Doris said, her face hardening. “I’m going to do it.”

  “Up to you,” Kelly said, indifferently.

  A few minutes later, Doris came out of the dressing room. She’d had to ask Heki to help her out with a few of the fittings, and there’d been a certain amount of giggling and bell ringing from the dressing stall.

  “What do you think?” Doris asked, uncertainly.

  “I take it back,” Kelly squeaked.

  “Take what back?” Doris asked, worriedly.

  “I take back what I said,” Kelly squeaked, then cleared his throat. “You should wear that all the time. I mean, All. The. Time.”

  “Kelly, my eyes are up here,” Doris said after an uncomfortable delay.

  “I’ve made my decision.”

  The outfit was complete, from slippers to pink gauze pantaloons to mildly opaque red vest with gauze sleeves and silver bells to headdress with more bells. And included a totally opaque silk veil.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “You look great.”

  “Then quit undressing me with your eyes!”

  “I don’t have to undress you with my eyes, Doris.”

  A crowd had gathered by the simple expedient of the first guy who glanced to the side and stopped, stunned. He, in turn, was bumped by another guy who looked the same way. At this point there were at least a dozen males all gazing at Doris, slack-mouthed
. And about half as many female companions glaring at her.

  “That’s it,” Doris said. “Not gonna do it.”

  “Doris,” Kelly said. “Seriously. You should. You look like a million dollars, and with the veil, nobody will know it’s you.”

  “Everybody’s staring at me!” Doris whispered.

  “Honey,” Heki said, sighing, “that’s the point.”

  “Doris, up to you,” Kelly said. “Gaming’s still an option. But I’ve never seen anyone who looks as good as you in one of those. And the veil is totally opaque.” He paused for a moment then shrugged. “Of course, it’s the only part that is.”

  “Not helping.”

  “Up to you.”

  Doris thought about it for a moment, trying to ignore the stares, then shrugged.

  “How much?”

  “I need better underwear,” she said as they left the Dealers Room. The entire harem-girl costume fit in a very small bag, which was all that anyone needed to say about it.

  “With that I will agree,” Kelly said. “But it really is a stunning outfit.”

  “I could tell by the look of dead fish on all the guys’ faces,” Doris said, chuckling.

  “Deer in headlights, surely.”

  “Nope, dead fish. Round, unblinking, dead eyes. And I don’t think they sell underwear in the Dealers Room.”

  “There’s a mall across the street.”

  “Let’s go shopping.”

  Doris waited in the shadow of one of the potted plants, hoping for a friendly face. She’d made one more trip to Heki’s shop and picked up a long, full-coverage, dark-blue hooded cloak. Which was the only reason she’d been able to step out of Folsom’s room after changing.

  Parked where she was, she should be able to see anyone going into the Hyatt. But she was also virtually invisible. What with the books about a certain magic school, hooded cloaks were everywhere.

  She’d settle for Mandy or Kelly. Even Traxa. Anybody she knew. Fortunately, she spotted Daphne.

  “Pssst,” she whispered over the din of the smoking area. “Daphne. Daphne!”

  “Yes?” Daphne said to the hooded figure.