Queen of wands

CHAPTER FIVE

“Hi, I’m Doris,” Doris said, sitting down. “What’s your name?”

“Hi, Doris, I’m Folsom,” Duncan said, laughing. “You’re looking chipper.”

“Nervous energy and caffeine,” Doris said.

“You haven’t been dancing all night again, have you?”

“Yes,” Doris said. “But this time I cheated. After I changed-thanks for letting me use your room again-I snuck into one of the meeting rooms that wasn’t being used and danced by myself. Well, sort of,” she added cryptically. “I was practicing for Dawn.”

“I thought you were just supposed to parade out there and show yourself off,” Duncan said, puzzled.

“You have up to one minute to do whatever you want,” Doris said. “And at the judges’ discretion, it can go longer. I read the rules carefully.”

“And you’re hoping for the judge’s discretion,” Duncan said. “That’s ballsy. Ovarian, in your case. What are you going to do?”

“It’s a secret,” Doris said. “But thank you for introducing me to Fig.”

“She’s a nice lady and Edmund likes pretty girls around,” Folsom said, shrugging. “I try to keep on their good side. You’re really not going to tell me.”

“Nope,” Doris said, thinking hard. “I need to go to the Dealers Room and the Exhibitors Hall and pick up some stuff. Then I need to find Fig and Bran, in that order. Then I’m going to be busy, busy, busy.”

“Then you’re going to need a good breakfast,” Duncan said, signaling for a waiter. “My treat.”

“I found some money in my backpack,” Doris said. “I can buy this time.”

“One meal won’t break me,” Duncan said. “Seriously. And you should save that money. I suspect you’re going to need all of it.”

“Feeling like a leech, I accept,” Doris said.

“You’re not a leech,” Folsom said, smiling faintly. “I feel that I owe you, not the other way around.”

“Why?” Doris asked.

“I think you’ll understand someday,” Folsom replied, shrugging. “Or perhaps you’ll forget.”

“Never,” Doris said. “I could never forget any of this. It’s going to be burned into my memory forever. This has been the greatest experience of my life. Do you know the best part?”

“What?” Duncan asked, grinning at her enthusiasm.

“Today is my birthday,” Doris said, grinning back. “And I’m going to win the Dawn contest. Guarantee it.”

Bran looked at the sketch and the list and his eyebrows went up.

“Can you do this?” he asked.

“I saw the basic dress and the shoes over at the mall yesterday,” Doris said in a rush. “Assuming they’re still there, yes. I’ve got the money to cover both. The rest of it is just sewing. I can buy the material, now.”

“Don’t worry about the material,” Bran said. “I’ve got emotional investment in this if nothing else. But I don’t know if some of this is necessary. And it’s going to take a long time.”

“I can do it,” Doris said. “I have to. I’ll be over in the mall for a bit, then if you don’t mind, I’ll use your room.”

“That’s fine,” Bran said, handing over the sketch and then a key. “I’ll be here most of the day. Good luck. I’ll be sure to be at the contest.”

“Do I look like some sort of messenger?” Traxa said as she entered the room. “Go to Fig and get this. Go to the mall and get that. I’ve got other things to do at this con, you know!”

“All I can say is thank you,” Doris said, concentrating on her sewing. “Or, thank you, thank you, thank you. This is taking longer than I’d expected.”

The costume she’d settled on was a modified Egyptian look. The name was “Dawn, Warrior of the East,” and the dual swords gave it a nice eastern look.

“I’m not sure you need much more than the dress,” Mandy said, pulling at the fabric. “That right there is an invitation to rape.”

She intended to do a very sedate sword dance as part of the presentation, but it still had to be a very…mobile dress. One of the more popular shops in the mall, at least during Dragon*Con, was one that normally supplied to exotic dancers. The dress had come from that shop. As had the shoes, which were more sturdy and practical than they looked.

“You’ve seen the costumes,” Doris said, picking up another “appliance” and sewing it on. The added parts gave the base dress a look of semi-armor. It wasn’t nearly as ornate as some of the other costumes, but she was counting on the sword dance to put her over the top.

“And I don’t think the veil is a good idea,” Anita said, nonetheless working on same. “The judges want to see faces nearly as much as bodies. Remember the rule about hair over one eye.”

“I’ll take it off eventually,” Doris said. “The shoes match the costume match the headdress. With the sword dance, it should be enough. I just look more like Dawn than any of the other contestants, including Garnet. And is it just me, or does she look a little long in the tooth for the Dawn contest?”

“And she’s older than she looks,” Mandy said. She caught a glare from Anita and shrugged. “Well, she is.”

“Garnet’s ascendant,” Anita said. “Getting on the bad side of an ascendant…”

“Garnet thinks she’s ascendant,” Mandy snapped. “But she cannot ascend without winning Dawn. And with all the bad blood she’s been creating, if she doesn’t ascend she’s in for a world of hurt.”

“Forgive me for trying to maintain some semblance of neutrality,” Anita snapped back.

“And forgive me for thinking ‘neutrality’ is just another word for cowardice!”

“Well, I remember what happened the last time!”

“What are you girls arguing about?” Doris said, looking up from her gluing.

“Nothing,” they replied in chorus.

“You ever get the feeling you’re being led around by the nose?” Sharice asked.

“I’m not being led around,” Wulfgar said, munching on a sandwich. “But I get the feeling that Janea’s not going to pass this point as long as I’m here. Or she only passes in the few cases where my back is turned.”

“We’re not being allowed to find her,” Drakon said, walking up. “I was in the gaming areas looking for her when I ran across the old man from the anime room. And got to talking. And completely lost track of the mission. His name is Ken Suno.” He flexed his jaw and shook his head. “Damn me for not seeing it.”

“Seeing what?” Sharice asked.

“At a guess?” Drakon said. “Su-san-o-o. Brother of Amaterasu. Major Shinto god. Here he’s the head of the anime track.”

“Damn,” Wulfgar muttered, his eyes widening. “The guy who heads up security…”

“What?” Sharice asked.

“Huge blond guy,” Wulfgar said, shrugging. “Blue eyes, but he doesn’t look Scandinavian or Aryan. More…Greek.”

“Name?” Drakon asked.

“Mike. Michael.”

“Holy Mother,” Sharice whispered. “ The Michael? Transformed God of War? Patron saint of elite forces? Archangel Michael?”

“At a guess.”

“Okay, no getting on the wrong side of security,” Drakon said.

“I helped a little old lady up the steps the other day,” Wulfgar said. “Pear shaped. Looked about a thousand years old. Guess what her con name was? Al Mater.”

“ The All-Mother?” Sharice asked.

“Ta-da,” Wulfgar said, then winced. “Svar…”

“Svarog?” Sharice said. “ Tell me we didn’t just do a deal with Svarog.”

“Think so,” Wulfgar replied. “Hope that doesn’t come back to bite us in the butt someday.”

“European,” Drakon said.

“Slavic god of smithing,” Sharice said, shuddering.

“Not a nicey-nice god, I take it,” Drakon said, nodding. “Fun.”

“Gods and avatars,” Sharice said, looking around at the crowds. “Lost souls and people in dream state. I said it but I didn’t really grok it, you know?”

“Which means Odin is somewhere around,” Wulfgar said, starting to grin. “And Thor.”

“Thor could be rolled fully into Michael at this point,” Sharice pointed out. “You might have already met him.”

“Fir, surely,” Wulfgar said, then shrugged. “Good enough, for that matter. But it also means there are demons,” he added as a girl dressed as a succubus walked by.

“Neutral ground,” Sharice said.

“I don’t see Michael enforcing neutral ground,” Drakon said. “I mean, I don’t know much about Christian myth, but I don’t see it.”

“I think Barb would probably say that it’s ineffable,” Sharice said, shrugging. “Even demons are God’s creations. They’re fallen angels.

“There is no way,” Doris said, looking around the room.

The backstage of the ballroom was packed with contestants. It was a sea of redheads in everything from elaborate fantasy costumes to a feather and two bangles. The only similarity was that there was some red to their hair, ranging from strawberry blonde to auburn, and they had three tears painted under the left eye.

“I can’t win this,” Doris said. “Look at Garnet!”

The previous year’s winner’s costume was an elaborate laser-cut leather demon complete with the talons.

“That must have cost an arm and a leg.”

“More like a soul,” Daphne said. “Souls. But they weren’t hers. Win or lose, you are going to participate. And have you looked more closely? Most of them truly don’t have a chance. They’re just here because for thirty seconds, eight thousand people will be looking at them.”

Now that Doris had some time to recover from her shock, she had to admit the little pirate had a point. More than half the women in the room really would look better in street clothes. Spandex was a privilege, not a right. And even for those who had some semblance of the real “Dawn” look, most of the costumes ran to the sort of thing you got from a Halloween shop. Little Bo Peep and Sexy Cop.

That left, out of probably two hundred, maybe thirty who were contenders. Considered honestly, Doris was in that category. So those were the girls to beat.

At which point…

“I’m still not going to win,” Doris said.

“Seek the Grail,” Daphne said. “You may find it or not, but the value is in the search.”

“Do you know Duncan Folsom?” Doris asked.

“I know the name,” Daphne said. “But we’ve never met. We run in slightly different planes but we’re aligned.”

“If you’re going to register, please do,” the lady at the table said. She looked as if she could have been an entrant once upon a time. “We need to get this show going.”

“Yes,” Doris said. “I’m registering.”

“Stage name?”

“Excuse me?” Doris said.

“Most people use their mystic name,” the lady said. “It cuts down on the stalkers. Or you can use your mundane name. Up to you.”

“Myst…” Doris said, frowning. “I don’t really have…”

“Sure you do,” Daphne said. “Think about it. Everyone does, they just hold it deep inside. Who are you, really? Doris Grisham of White Springs, Alabama?”

“Yes,” Doris said. “I am. And…no, I’m not.”

“The Faces,” Daphne said, softly. “The thousand faces of the hero, the nine billion names of God. Who is the Goddess within? What name calls once from the darkness, twice from the light?”

“Janea,” Doris said hesitantly. “My name’s Janea.”

“Good one,” the lady said, writing it down on a form. “Original. Okay, you’re done. Your friend has to stay. Only contestants from here on out.”

“Good luck,” Daphne said, hugging her. “Truth is, we’re from about as far apart as anyone could imagine, but I think I’ve grown knowing you. Which takes some doing.”

“You’re…going to be around when I’m done, right?” Doris asked.

“Always,” Daphne said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “But when you win, I think there will be others who will want to greet you. There are some who have been waiting to see who you become. I hope we see each other before the end of the con, but that’s tonight at midnight. And everyone will be gathering for Dead Dog. But I’ll be with you when you hear the whisper of the wind.”

“What?” Doris said.

“Just go, honey,” Daphne said, pushing her into the throng. “Be the Goddess.”

Doris waved as she walked away but Daphne didn’t look back. She already missed the little pirate and hoped that they’d be able to meet again and get some contact information before the end of the con. She thought about the last conversation for a second and then frowned.

“Plane?”

Waiting for the contest was about the most nerve-wracking experience of her whole life. The girls had been assigned numbers at random rather than as they turned up, to keep people from gaming the system. Winners tended to be either early in the contest or very late.

Despite that system, Doris suspected some sort of foul play since Garnet’s entry was next to last. Worse, Doris had somehow gotten the slot right before the previous year’s winner. Which meant she was probably going to be upstaged.

And the more time she had to think, the less she liked her costume. It wasn’t elaborate enough to win for the costuming value-several of the judges were serious costumers-and it was too elaborate to win her points for sexy.

One by one the contestants went out, did their little pirouette or, in rare cases, some sort of routine, and then in some cases submitted to questions from the judges. If you didn’t get questioned, it was pretty clear you weren’t in the running. But most of the girls weren’t really there to win, as Daphne had pointed out. So most of them came back happy looking. The few that didn’t were the “contenders” who weren’t asked questions.

There were fewer than ten girls left and Doris started to sidle towards the front. It was no big deal. Walk out, do the quick dance, come back. Hopefully the judges wouldn’t ask her questions.

“‘Did you do the costume yourself?’” Doris muttered, sliding over to the wall by the stage entrance. “‘Except for most of it, which I bought in a stripper shop.’ ‘How long have you been costuming?’ ‘How long has the con been going on?’”

“Now the little newb is talking to herself,” Garnet said. “How quaint.”

Doris had been so focused on the stage, she hadn’t even noticed the woman walk up.

“Well, it’s talk to myself or talk to you,” Janea said. “I’ll take talking to air first.”

“Think you’re special?” Garnet snarled. “You’re nothing but a tiny little nobody in this con. You’re nothing. You’re worthless.”

“Which is why you keep picking on me, right?” Janea said. “Because I’m so worthless you know I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Really?” Garnet said, smiling. “Think so?”

Without the slightest warning, she snatched off half the barely attached appliances on the costume, ripping the dress in the process. “Not now.”

“Oh…” Doris said. “You…you…”

“And next…Janea…presenting Dawn, Warrior of the East.”

“Good luck,” Garnet said.

Doris stood, just breathing hard for a moment, then reached up and ripped the rest of the elaborate fake armoring off the dress, ripping more of it in the process.

“…Dawn, Warrior of the East…?”

Janea strode onto the stage without even glancing at the judges or the crowd, then spun into a lotus position with her back to the crowd. She opened up the brooch on her cloak and spun it out of the way, then drew her swords and laid them, crossed, in front of her on the stage.

The music started and she stood up, took her right sword, and stuck it through the constraining material of the dress between her legs, and cut from just below her crotch to the floor. She spun up on one foot in a pirouette and the two swords lashed the remaining fabric away, the leg-length pieces flipping away through the air like butterflies. Then she started to dance.

Everything else fell away then. For Janea, when she was in movement the world became the dance. The crowd did not matter, the judges did not matter, Garnet did not matter. Only the dance.

There have been sword dances performed in every society that had periods when the sword was the paramount weapon, from Caucasus saber dances to Wu-Shu. Most of them had little to do with actual combat. But they mostly shared the peculiarity of performing them being a life-and-death event for the performer. Most styles involved moving the blade very close to the performer’s body. The closer the blade to the body, the faster…that was the essence of the sword dance.

The dance of Janea was not one style, not one way. A watcher would see elements of Wu-Shu, Hungarian and Cossack, and even Choliya, but it maintained that single essence.

To balance on the razor blade between life and death. To trim the hairs but not the skin.

When Janea came to her feet and started dancing, her costume was already in tatters. As she danced, it became more so.

Roll out of the bed

Look in the mirror

And wonder who you are

Another year is come and gone

“Okay, we found Janea,” Wulfgar said, his mouth hanging open.

He had seen Janea dance before. He’d even snuck into a club she was working at, which made him feel very much like a pervert. But he’d never seen her dance. Not like this.

She was a spinning dervish across the stage, the double swords flickering in and out and a veritable torrent of material flying away from her rapidly denuding body. There could be no question that the swords were razor sharp. Not only were they slicing through the fabric of the costume like paper, she was, in time with the dance and often while in the air, catching pieces in midair and cutting them smaller. She was already down to not much more than a micro-mini and a halter. She couldn’t go much further without being down to “no costume.”

“I think the judges are enjoying it,” Sharice said dryly, as Janea flipped one of the cut bits of dress with a sword tip to settle on the head of the creator of Dawn.

“They’re not calling time on her, anyway,” Wulfgar said.

“I think the crowd would rise up in fury if they did,” Sharice said. “Damn…”

“That is…” Drakon said, his jaw dropping as Janea somersaulted across the stage, bits of material still flying off as the swords flashed in and out. “I would have said that was physically impossible.” But maybe you touch one life

And the world becomes a better place to be

Maybe you give their dreams another day

Another chance to be free

Janea had carefully choreographed her planned dance. This wasn’t it. What she was doing, how she was doing it, she wasn’t exactly sure. She also didn’t know if she was dancing well. But she also didn’t care. There was only the dance.

As the last bars of the song closed, she dropped to a split facing the judges, slid her swords up between the veil and her face, ripped the veil away with a flick of the wrist to give it some heft, then dropped the prescribed lock of hair over her cheek. As the piece of gauze settled to the stage, it was quiet enough she thought she could hear it touch the ground. She distinctly heard the “tink” as the swords crossed in front of her.

The MC wasn’t asking any questions-she wasn’t sure why, but he looked too stunned or something-so she bounced twice to get some momentum, popped straight to her feet and walked off the stage.

“Beat that, bitch,” Janea said as she walked past Garnet.

“She gets presented the Crown and the Prize in the Hyatt main lobby,” Wulfgar said, pressing through the crowd. “We can probably make contact there.”

“Think again,” Drakon countered. “She’s going to be surrounded by security. All you’re going to get is blinded by camera flashes.”

“It’s the best chance we’re…” Wulfgar paused as someone even larger than he was stepped in front of them.

“Sorry…” the guy said. He was dressed a bit like some sort of bird and was wearing an eagle mask. “But it’s time for you guys to go home.”

“Excuse me?” Wulfgar said. “And who are you to…”

“Wulfgar,” Sharice said, carefully. “ Don’t start anything. We’re looking for a friend.”

“We know,” the eagle man said. “Which is why I’m explaining, politely, that she’s going to be busy for the rest of the convention. And that Pat says it’s time for you to go home. Most of the mundanes go home after the Dawn show. You don’t want to stay for Dead Dog. Mundanes who stay for Dead Dog sometimes never make it home.”

“Is that a threat?” Wulfgar asked.

“No, that is information,” the bird man said, tilting his head sharply to the side. “If you’d like a threat, it can be arranged.”

“We’re just going,” Sharice said, suddenly, grabbing his arm.

“But…” Wulfgar said. It wasn’t as if she could move him.

“We’re going, Wulfgar,” Sharice said. “Back to the room. Then we’ll pack and go home.”

“But…” Wulfgar said as he let himself be dragged away.

“Just shut your fool Asatru mouth,” Sharice said, walking as rapidly as she could through the crowd.

“No call to be…”

“Asatru are horrible about studying other religions,” Sharice said as they left the Hyatt. “So take my word for it, we are leaving.”

“Malakbel?” Drakon asked.

“Ancient Assyrian?” Sharice said. “Maybe. I don’t think so, though. Think…Barb.”

“You mean the White God?” Wulfgar said, craning his head to look for the Eagle Man. The guy, despite being huge, had disappeared. And most of the crowd seemed to be people in mundane dress who were headed for the exits.

“Not…exactly,” Sharice said. “ But those who wait on the lord will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles. They shall run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint. I can quote a half a dozen other verses, not to mention Nostradamus. I don’t think that messenger was from any minor god you can care to name. So we are leaving.”

Doris was left alone for a moment to blink at the crown in her hands. There was no way that those were actual rubies. They looked real, but it was amazing what they could do with synthetics these days…

“Janea.”

The woman was probably in her forties, blonde, with a face that was not so much kind as so understanding of humanity, it had sort of gone past un kind to wise.

“Ma’am?” Doris said.

The past hour had been a blur. Garnet had most assuredly not won and security had become involved. She’d never even gotten close to Doris. Knowing what was going to happen, two guys dressed like goons had interposed themselves when she left the stage to very muted applause. One move towards Janea had been enough for them to wrap her up in tentacles and drag her out of the room.

The judges had asked questions, later, mostly along the lines of “Are you seeing anyone?” She wasn’t even sure what she’d answered. Pretty much everything from when she’d picked up her swords was a blur.

Now someone else she didn’t know wanted something.

“I am Regina,” the woman said. “I’m the Senior Director of Programming. Since you are now Programming, I’m your Senior Director.”

“Okay?” Doris said.

“Your time from now until Dead Dog is blocked out,” Regina said. “First there is the formal presentation of the Crown, and the prize of course. Then interviews with select media. Then the visit to the Green Room to meet select Guests. Last, Dead Dog where you will be formally Chosen and given appropriate transportation home.”

“I get a ride?” Doris said.

“Yes, dear,” Regina replied, softly. “You get a ride home. You didn’t know that was the actual prize?”

“No…” Doris said, confused. “Don’t most people have rides home?”

“Oh, most of the regular congoers can get home just fine,” Regina said, taking her arm. “You, of course, are special. I am personally pleased that you won. You’ve had me worried for years. You really couldn’t ever reach your full potential as you were, two people sharing one soul. But even if you were still having transportation problems, it’s not as if Janea or Doris couldn’t find friends.”

“I have found friends here,” Doris said. “A lot of friends. Speaking of which…”

“You may run into a few,” Regina said, leading her into one of the back corridors. “But this time of the con, it’s hard to get up to the Green Room other than through the special ways.”

“I thought there was other stuff we were going to do…?” Janea said. She sort of remembered it and sort of didn’t. Everything was getting a bit disconnected. For example, she wondered how they got onto one of the upper floors. She didn’t even remember an elevator. They were, though. From the upper walkway she could see the whole Hyatt spread below her. It was like being a god. There was an odd rainbow effect stretching down to the lobby. It looked almost like a bridge.

“Bit of a blur?” Regina said, pausing at the door of a suite. “Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of. And so we come to my true domain, the Green Room. Say hello to Carl.”

“Hi.” The guy was immense, but Doris sensed he was as kind as he was big. “My con name is Fir. If you need anything, or anybody’s giving you any trouble, just say my name and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” Doris said, following Regina into the suite.

The room was crowded and overheated. It also was…wrong. It must have been the size of a ballroom to hold all the people that were in it, and hotels didn’t put ballrooms on top floors. It also didn’t look that big. It looked like a normal suite.

She looked around for people that she knew, but they were all strangers. A bunch of them were half familiar, like she’d seen them in a movie or something, but she couldn’t place any names.

There was music coming from a stereo, but it was being drowned out by a young guy in Renaissance dress banging on a piano. An Elvis impersonator wearing stormtrooper armor was accompanying on guitar. Doris couldn’t figure out the tune, though, since they seemed to be playing two entirely different styles. Worked, though.

“I swear,” Regina said, shaking her head. “Wulfie and the King are never going to get ‘Nocturne for a Hound Dog’ down. And this is Clark, who you’d probably get along with.”

“Charmed,” the man said, taking her hand and kissing it.

Doris certainly was. She’d expected a kiss on the hand to be sloppy, but it was just a touch of dry lips. And the guy was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He was also, as usual, vaguely familiar.

“Have we met before?” Doris asked.

“I assure you we have not,” the guy said, smiling. Damn, he had nice teeth. “I would remember.”

“Alas, you two don’t have nearly enough time to get properly acquainted,” Regina said, smiling at him. “Which is a pity. Ah, I think that you might enjoy this group.”

“Look, I asked Pat!” a man with a wild head of hair and shaggy eyebrows said. “Pat says He doesn’t play dice with the universe. Take that, Niels!”

“Al? Eddie? Isaac?” Regina said. “This is Doris. She’s the winner of the Dawn Contest.”

“If Pat doesn’t play dice with the universe, how exactly does He explain wave particle duality?” Doris asked.

“He said, and I find myself troubled by this, that He did it to see how many atheist brains He could get to explode.” Isaac was dressed in English period dress and wore a powdered wig. “Of course, I am troubled by any scientist discounting the obvious existence of a benevolent Creator.”

“God is omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent,” Eddie said, grinning. “Clearly He is also omnihumorous.”

“I rarely find him so,” Isaac said. “But perhaps the joke is too subtle for my intellect?”

“Or too slapstick?” Eddie said. “Like putting me through hell inventing the lightbulb just so that comics could finally have a visual representation for gestalt?”

“So…quantum mechanics is a joke?” Doris said.

“If you think about it clearly it makes a certain degree of sense,” Isaac replied with a pained expression. “But one must first accept a Creator as a given. If you fail to include a thinking being as part of your thesis, the entire universe becomes unbalanced. I have carefully examined this quantum theory problem, and a thinking being with a specific agenda is the simplest answer to the many conundrums. Take wave particle duality. Mass is undetectable at the quantum level. Yet it interacts with all things using a logic which is indefinable as well. Last, it is in everything. Omnipresent, omnipotent and ineffable. This is the definition of the Lord.”

“I’m going to go find Niels and say…What is that phrase that the children are using these days?” Al said, distractedly.

“‘In your face’?” Doris said hesitantly.

“That, yes, exactly…” Al said then sat down again. “But what is its exact meaning? To what, exactly, does it refer? A portion of the body? Is it, at some level, a metaphor for the constancy of problems being central to the human existence?”

“Or maybe some people who are a bit more grounded,” Regina said, leading her over to another set of couches. Three men were engrossed in an article in a magazine.

“I keep wanting to go down to Houston and strangle the head of NASA,” one of the men said. He was tall with a rangy build, bald as a cue ball and wearing a Hawaiian shirt. “There was so much promise there.”

“It’s like SFWA, really,” another man said. Slighter and darker, he wore a suit that was rumpled and had papers sticking out of most of the pockets. “At a certain point, the rule weenies take over.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s quite as bad as SFWA…” The third man was slight, blond and darkly tanned, with an English accent.

“Robert, Ike, John, this is Doris,” Regina said.

“Ah, the Dawn Queen,” John said, standing up and bowing over her hand. Unlike Clark, he didn’t attempt to kiss it. “Welcome to the Green Room, charming lady.”

“Down, John,” Robert said, smiling at her. “What do you think of the modern space program, miss?”

“I think they jumped the shark with the Shuttle,” Doris said. “Once they’d dug the hole they just kept digging deeper to see if they could find gold. Which was a bit like looking for it in Kansas.”

“I suspect it went to an earlier point than that,” Ike said, shaking his head. “One could see the future history of the program in the early control by the bureaucracy of almost every aspect. If one had a sufficiently advanced computer and a proper model, one could almost certainly predict every action that has taken place…”

“Yes, yes, if you had a sufficiently advanced computer,” Robert said. “One terabyte not enough. One petabyte not enough? How much is enough, Ike?”

“Hey, I’ve practically got a terabyte in my phone.”

Doris spun around at the voice and grinned when she saw Kelly.

“They let you in here?” she asked.

“I can get anywhere,” Kelly said.

“Yes,” Regina said, dryly. “Like crotch rot.”

“Technically, I think that is only found in the cro…” Ike said then trailed off at her glare.

“A terabyte in your phone?” Robert said, incredulously. “I hate modern society. I suppose you… text?”

“Blackberry,” Kelly said, holding up his phone. “You really need to catch up here, Robert. It’s embarrassing that somebody like me can figure out something you envisioned better than you can.”

“I didn’t envision…ringtones,” Robert said dryly. “I wish no one had. If I hear one more acid rock song in the restaurant…”

“Unless you’re talking about Jimmy,” Kelly said, gesturing over to a black guy by the wall, chatting up a blonde in a long white dress, “you’re probably not talking about acid rock. Metal, maybe…”

“Whatever,” Robert said. “It all sounds the same. And I also didn’t envision phone porn.”

“Got that one right,” John said, holding up a finger. “But the social implications turned out to be somewhat…muted,” he finished in a puzzled tone.

“ I refused to switch to that newfangled touch tone,” Ike said, proudly.

“Isaac, did you just use ‘newfangled’ in a sentence?” Kelly asked. “Regina, you’ve got things to do to prepare for Closing. Why don’t I show her around?”

“I think I’d rather entrust a child to a tiger,” Regina said.

“But you do have things to do, don’t you?” Kelly said.

“Yes,” Regina said. “The problem being, I’m trying to figure out which side of the field you’re playing.”

“I never play the field,” Kelly said. “Astara would kill me. Seriously, I’ll have her to Ceremonies on time.”

“Why?” Regina said, suspiciously.

“Oh, come on,” Kelly said, grinning. “You know the amount of chaos it’s going to cause.”

“That sounds suspiciously like honesty,” Robert said.

“Yes, it does,” Regina said. “Which makes me even more nervous.”

“She’ll be there on time,” Kelly said. “And I swear on my hon…well, I swear on Robert’s honor that she’ll be fine.”

“Knowing this is probably a bad idea…” Regina said, then kissed Doris on the cheek. “Truth is, when there’s fun involved in the outcome, you really can trust Kelly. So I’ll see you at Dead Dog.”

“Okay,” Doris said. “ What chaos?” she continued, looking at Kelly.

“Oh, you know,” he said, leading her away. “Angst. Jealousy. Plans ruined. Dead Dog is the official moment for all the angst built up during the con to come pouring out. Don’t sweat it. It’s not about you, really. It’s just…get this many big egos all in one place and you end up with blood on the walls. So who do you want to see?”

“Uhm…” Doris said. So far every “guest” had been fascinating. “I don’t know, who do you suggest?”

“Let’s take the grand promenade,” Kelly said, offering her his arm. “ Everyone wants to meet the Dawn Queen.”

“Time for Dead Dog,” Regina said.

Again Doris had that moment of disconnect. She’d been wandering the Green Room for what seemed like hours but had almost no recollection of exactly what she’d been doing. She’d met dozens of people and vaguely remembered being fascinated by all of them, but with the exception of a guy in Revolutionary period dress named George, subject governmental structure and politics, she really didn’t recall anything in detail.

“Has somebody been slipping me something?” she asked, looking over at Kelly. She blinked rapidly and shook her head. “When did you change into costume?”

Kelly was wearing Viking period dress, except that it was silk, which wasn’t normal Viking fare, and while he looked exactly the same, tall, slim, long blond hair going gray, he had a more saturnine look than she remembered.

“Seriously, we have to hurry, now,” Regina said, taking her hand. Regina was wearing what Doris first took to be scale armor, then couldn’t decide if it was supposed to be just scales. Or, possibly, diamonds. It seemed to be drifting from one to the other. “It’s out on the balcony.”

“What balcony?” Doris asked as they stepped through the door. She thought she had been all over the suite, but never noticed that there was a balcony.

“This isn’t a balcony,” she squeaked as they stepped through the doorway. The Green Room must have been on the top of the hotel, because they were outside on what looked like the roof. But the roofs of hotels always had walls around them, and this one didn’t.

For that matter, the con took place in downtown Atlanta. She knew that. She’d been moving around the hotels. She knew, in general, what the surrounding area looked like.

It was not a mountain range.

“Where is this?”

“The balcony of the Green Room,” Regina said, her voice shifting in and out in liquid syllables. Doris had never even thought about “doing it” with a girl but the syllables went right to her insides. She also now appeared younger. And older.

“Okay, somebody has been slipping me drugs,” Doris said as the mountaintop started to fill with the people of the Green Room. They seemed to be splitting into camps, and she saw Shane with his zombies gathering to one side. On the other, Fig, also wearing armor, was standing by the side of Edmund Wodinaz. Edmund was wearing Viking dress, an eyepatch, and a broad hat, and carried a spear. He looked just as elderly as the last time Doris had seen him but the term “spry” came to mind. Also “dangerous.”

“No, sweetie,” Regina said, her voice going melodious and liquid. “This is where you have been the whole time, in the heart of the Dragon, the place where dreams become reality and reality is, for a time, but a dream. But it’s time for you to go now. You are the Chosen, sent to bring the message of the Dragon to the world. For this year…”

“I challenge!” Garnet snarled. “She has been given illicit support throughout the con. The rules have been broken!”

“She quested for allies and found them,” Regina said, tightly. “She was given no support from within the convention nor by convention personnel other than that to which she was entitled. I never even spoke to her nor influenced her actions until she had won the contest, and she is my avatar! Such support as she obtained came from those who loved her, trusted her and supported her. She is properly Chosen. That is the one and only rule. You had your chance and you blew it. And if we wish to discuss rule breaking, you used physical violence.”

“And I’m about to use more!” Garnet said, straightening up and waving to the group gathering on the north side of the mountain. “I shall not be denied! My acolytes gather for sacrifice and my allies are prepared to open the way.”

“Do you think you are the only one with acolytes?” Edmund said, smiling tightly and gesturing behind him. “Or allies? And I note you seem to be missing many of both. Where is this summoning? Where are these allies?”

“They are…” Garnet said, looking around. Her side did seem a bit…small. “This will not be!” She reached behind her back and a sword of black flame appeared in her hand.

“Got that covered,” Edmund said, drawing a battle-axe from midair. “You’re going down, bitch. I’ve had about enough of your prancing.”

“I was rage and power when your followers were trying to make spears from flint!” Garnet shouted.

“ Now she’s willing to admit her age,” Frig said, a shining spear appearing in her hand. “Want a shawl, grandma?”

“At least she still has followers,” Svar said, drawing a blade of midnight.

“Oh, yeah?” Edmund said. “In case you didn’t get the update, Michael’s avatar is going through them like Garnet through a case of chocolates.”

“You Aesir bastard…!” Garnet screamed, charging forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Kelly said, a microphone suddenly appearing in his hand. “In the south corner weighing in at the Hosts of Valhalla…Odin One Eye, King of the Aesir! And his lovely wife Frig! In the north corner weighing in at the Hosts of Hel…Garnet Osemala, Queen of Rage and Darkness! And her lovely consort Svar Balog, of course! Welcome tooooo…ARMEGEDDON SMACKDOWN! And I will be your host for this annual Ragnarok…Loki the Jester!”

“And it’s time for you to go,” Regina said, as the two armies charged and Garnet swelled into a vast demonic form. Freya led Doris to the edge of the precipice and gestured for her to jump. “Time to Return.”

“I can’t jump off of that,” Doris said. “I’ll die.”

“You’ll be fine,” Freya said, giving her a push. It was like being hit by a mallet, and Doris suddenly found herself falling. “And I will be with you always…my Child of Life.”

“Wow,” Janea said as Barb walked into the room. “You look like you should be in this bed.”

The normally pristine Christian Adept was covered in blood, and her tacticals looked destined for the rag bin. Even her hair was a mess, which Janea had never seen.

“I’m heading for one,” Barb said, walking over and taking her hand. “I heard you’d come out of your…You were awake and I came right over.”

“What happened?” Janea asked.

“The…usual,” Barb said, frowning. “Zombies. succubae, and heroes to add to the wall. I think we shut this one down hard. I hope so. Stepfords are a nightmare. Are you okay?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been better,” Janea said, taking a sip of water. “I’m sort of stiff from lying on my back and I’m having a hard time with balance but I feel…great.”

“Do you remember anything?” Barb asked. “I tried to send you support when I could.”

“I’m not sure,” Janea said. “You’re not the first one to ask. I sort of remember meeting people. And something about dancing. But other than that, not much. Apparently Sharice, Wulfgar and Drakon are in the same boat. Whatever happened on the other side, somebody doesn’t want us recalling it too clearly.”

“Not too surprising,” Barb said, leaning over to hug her. “I don’t really care. I’m just glad to have my Janea back.”

“I’m glad to be back, too,” Janea said, frowning. “And sad at the same time. Barb?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make a habit of it or anything,” Janea said. “But…it’s okay if you call me Doris.”