“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 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
