“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
