Adornments of Glory

by J. Crispin-Ripley

  "That aside, he's human slime," Square said with finality.

  "But aren't all humans slime to you, darling?" Belinda patted the dwarf's hand. "Besides, you're just jealous." Humans and dwarves were traditional foes although there were notable cases of intimacy between members of the races--Square and Belinda for instance. Few approved but fewer dared express their opinion; Square and Belinda were both powerful telekinetics--those who dared criticise either tended to be found crushed by a fallen tree or wall.

  "For some inexplicable reason," Caltrop continued. "Belinda wants to go after Delarone herself." Feldspar doubted Caltrop would dare tease Belinda if his body was in the same room as hers. "I think it's just that she wants to visit Terra--not many dwarves... lots of humans... lots of good sex... you could go too, Square... oops, no you couldn't... no long term bedmates allowed. Darn, if she goes, she'll just have to make do with humans."

  "Buffoon." Square wasn't amused. "Wait until I see you." He sat.

  "Feel free to visit."

  Feldspar broke in. "Terra? You didn't tell me the quest was to Terra."

  "You didn't ask, and you were so smug about knowing everything." This Windrover was no loving uncle. "And I still think Belinda should be allowed her revenge," Windrover continued, his smile almost a Belinda-quality sneer. "I'm sure it wouldn't take long."

  "You voted against me and in favour of my mother?" Feldspar stood and took a step towards him. Windrover hadn't mentioned that either. "Why?"

  "Because the idiot hopes Belinda would fail and be killed while on Terra so he'll never again be humiliated by her refusing to bed him," Caltrop said, flipping Windrover the finger. "Okay, okay… seriously, I suspect he fears you, as the Prophesied, will fulfil your fate." Caltrop's projected image squared its shoulders. "As it was said: 'Great Sylvester, the fifth child of the fifth generation after your own will lead legions of the unknown. A world shall crumble as the mighty lose their might, and the lesser are raised to heights...'"

  "No need to perorate the accursed thing," Windrover jumped to his feet. "We all know what it says. Prophecies aren't worth harpy dung anyway. Far too vague."

  "I'd think you'd like that one though." Feldspar had had enough. "You're so far from mighty, uncle dear, that you'd have to be raised."

  "I vote in favour of Belinda." Windrover lowered his bulk back into his chair, his eyes spewing psychic poison at Feldspar. Anyone with weaker shields would be writhing on the floor in anguish.

  "I also vote in favour of myself." Belinda stood and thrust out her chest; like that scant item would impress anyone. "And Square, if you ever want me in your bed again, you will also."

  Square leapt back to his feet. "Against. There's younger and more lithesome flesh than you freely available. And I charge you, Belinda, with being a traitor, in league with Delarone."

  "Against," Caltrop said quickly. "And I strongly suggest everyone settle down and reconsider their words and actions, including me. I apologise for any offence I may have given. Square, coming from a normally wise and taciturn dwarf, I found that speech both long-winded and ill considered. Belinda could rightfully challenge you to trial by combat if you don't retract it and apologise immediately."

  "She would lose such a challenge. I retract nothing. Delarone is her creature, at her depraved bidding... as I admit to once being."

  "Far more than once." Belinda sounded smug. "And you will beg for my favours again, as you have so many times before. Delarone isn't my creature, but you most certainly are, cuddle bunny."

  "Very well." Caltrop's image started to fade. "Destroy each other... see if I care. For you, Windrover, a piece of friendly advice. Know Feldspar only speaks the truth regarding your talents at mind-science and you'll live longer. Your strength is your creative dishonesty, not your showy but pathetic abilities--as an adept, you're limited. Whatever... in the absence of the fairy, the vote deadlocks and therefore fails. This meeting is over."

  "Please, don't vanish quite yet," Feldspar said. "I need witnesses." She held herself straight. "Windrover and Belinda, I hereby formally renounce all familial ties to you and cast you both from my life. Good-bye." She turned and left the room.

  In late afternoon, the grounds of the Academy were busy, but the beings thronging the streets, squares and parks swerved away from Feldspar as they saw her approach. At the same time all watched her closely. As the Prophesied, Feldspar was accustomed to being of interest, but this scrutiny was of a different order, one tinged with dread. Word about the theft and the quest was out. People knew she would be recruiting for Terra and few, other than elves, had any desire to visit that unbalanced world. Her divorce from her mother and foster uncle might also be known and few would want to offend either. Caltrop would have ensured that news got on the backbone immediately.

  Perhaps she was becoming the Prophesied in truth, as she now was the epicentre of events shaking Diluvia as violently as any since the world's beginning. No wonder people were frightened. She wasn't just Feldspar now, but an apparition betokening unsettled times.

  If she weren't so numb, Feldspar suspected she might be gibbering with terror herself. Short hours ago she had been an obscure apprentice Justice wandering a far edge of the Fringe. Since then she had left her lover and mentor, been declared leader of a quest, forsworn most of her familial ties and in the process made enemies of two of Adepts Five, her ex-mother and once foster uncle. Anyone joining her would inherit those problems.

  But her more immediate concern was a growling stomach. That she could do something about. She purchased a grilled trout and two cobs of corn from a booth and withdrew to a shaded wall. There, she covered herself with an illusion of shadow. As an illusionist her talent was minor, particularly compared to that of her maternal grandfather. Some of his apparitions were still in place and he'd been long since recycled, defeated by a former lover whose mind and body had recovered from the man's affections sooner than expected. Feldspar's own illusions faded quickly when she quit focusing her mind, and were small scale, but she'd learned to use them effectively. Her childhood had been lived in shadows, hiding from Belinda.

  The edge of her hunger gone, Feldspar considered her next move. Quite obviously she would spend the night at the inn of Square's clan. Not only was she the enemy of Square's enemies now, her familial tie to his daughter, Grunt, was one that could never be cut. The fairies had danced to celebrate Feldspar's birth--the birth of the Prophesied and Grunt had been born at the same moment, a short distance away.

  Some thought the ritual dance had joined Feldspar and Grunt with a psychic bond. Whatever the reason, Feldspar and Grunt were soul-sisters, closer to each other than if they'd been carried in the same womb. Still, they had their own lives, and were very different. Grunt lived and loved for the moment and openly disapproved of Feldspar's cautious approach to coupling, which she termed "just another way to hide." She particularly objected to Feldspar's lasting liaison with Skythane, saying if you had to cling to someone out of fear of sleeping alone, it'd be nice if your chosen partner had a brain.

  That needed to be worked out. Skythane might be in the past now, but Feldspar still believed sexual and companionship needs could be fulfilled by the same person--just not by him. When Grunt heard, she'd start working up an "I told you so." The longer she was given, the more involved it would be. Feldspar longed to start the argument. She expected to lose, even though she knew she was right, but first she had duties... a world to save or at any rate, information and a quest party to gather to that end.

  Feldspar agreed with Adepts Five, and the quest rules; long-term bedmates couldn't be included. Nor could anyone who'd ever slept with Belinda--not to mention, Belinda herself--not on her quest, thank you. Knowing her ex-mother, the woman was precisely brazen enough to ask, even now. Also, since the Adornments reportedly were on Terra, Feldspar decided she'd go further--any being who had been there was equally out of the running. They might be implicated.

  That would make finding an elf to join the quest difficu
lt. Most elves had been on Terra, or would at some time. As a race, they felt responsible for Terra's woes; they had been involved on both sides of the great war between the dwarves and humans--the war that ended with flooded and sunken islands.

  On Terra, populated almost exclusively by humans, the two worlds' shared history was half-remembered legend. But for elves, ten thousand years was but ten generations, and their collective sense of guilt remained strong. Not native to Terra and already refugees from a ruined world, their grasp of mind-science made an ugly conflict into one that ended with the sinking of Atlantis. Now, Terra was risen again, and the Terran Internet linked to the Diluvian backbone. So far the flow was largely one way but that would change over time, maybe… if Terra survived.

  Feldspar made her way back into the warrens of the Academy, towards the Communications Centre that surrounded and overshadowed the Stone Tower of Adepts Five. Its steel masts broadcasted news, gossip and chatter to satellites, and then to com-readers and community screens throughout Diluvia. The Communications Centre was Spinecracker's domain.

  It was unlikely Windrover or Belinda would look for her there; although, if they knew her at all, they should. Spinecracker had been Feldspar's first lover when she'd become an adult at sixteen. The relationship had been kept secret these past four years; it was entirely inappropriate, his being an elf some six hundred years her elder. In public they'd never been known as more than casual acquaintances. In private their relationship was entirely physical in nature. Grunt would approve, if she knew. Today, however, Feldspar hoped to pump Spinecracker for information. She smiled to herself. And more... she'd admit it. She had no illusions about Spinecracker being a suitable companion, but he was a superior lay.

  At the main door Feldspar stopped to consider her plan of action. Another inward smile--as Belinda now was an enemy she might as well do what she could to ruin her mother's reputation, such as it was. Feldspar set her face in a scowl and stepped out of the shadows as an illusion of Belinda.

  She kicked open the door. "Out of my way! Stand aside or die, idiots!" In truth, she didn't need to say anything, the sight of Belinda storming past sent everyone scattering for the exit. When in a rage Belinda often used her telekinesis to send beings and objects in her path flying. Feldspar had always considered that as much an act as what she was now doing; if Belinda used full force against any being without good shields, including trolls or giants, they didn't get up again until they were reborn.

  "Where's that accursed rumourmonger? Toad, how dare you allow those lies onto the backbone? Toad!"

  As far as Feldspar could see, everyone had fled the building. Still, she should stay in character. She stalked towards the control room. "Toad, you coward, get out here and face your doom."

  "A bit overdone, dear." The familiar voice came from behind. It seemed she'd caught him using the facilities. "Even Belinda wouldn't dare address me as 'Toad'."

  "It's your name." Which was true, but even in private, Vigour Grey Toad was referred to by his Adept appellation of Spinecracker. No one cared to anger him. If they did, their public reputation was likely to be destroyed. Control of the backbone was as great a power as any.

  "You're looking good, Feldspar." Spinecracker licked his lips. "Tasty too."

  "You can see through the illusion?"

  "All you've assumed is her face and coloration. The delicious body is all yours. Your curves are delightfully fuller than hers." Spinecracker traced an exaggerated womanly figure in the air. Yeah, right--who did he think she was? Grunt? "Don't you worry though, I'm sure I'm the only one calm enough to notice. But tell me, why did you think the subterfuge necessary?"

  Should she tell him the truth, that she'd done it to besmirch Belinda's reputation? Or that she could emulate the visuals of Belinda's wider waist and smaller breasts perfectly… just not the touch… and that touch was everything to her? No, he was talking down to her every bit as badly as Skythane had. Was that always the tone he'd taken with her? If so, this was the first time she'd noticed. Still, he didn't deserve an honest answer. "Because herself and Windrover are sure to be out to get me."

  Spinecracker laughed. "Not a chance, little girl. Right now Windrover is grovelling at Planetsinger's feet, begging her not to abjure him as you did. I don't think she'll forgive him this time, even after a suitable crawl. Would you like to see the live feed?"

  "No, thanks. I hadn't expected that would happen." She became herself again. Spinecracker smiled and move a step closer.

  "Neither had he, dear, neither had he."

  "I meant I didn't think Planetsinger allowed live feeds of her doing anything."

  "Her request." Spinecracker put his hands on her hips. "You're right. I'd never ask. She said she wanted all Diluvia, and Windrover, to know that he and Belinda are verging on becoming anathema in the eyes of the Great Mother. Belinda won't dare raise a hand against you after this. It would be as good as proving Square's impulsive assertion of her treason to be true."

  "And is it?" Spinecracker's touch evoked sweet memories.

  "If anyone knew, I would. Now, you came here for a reason, other than to besmirch Belinda?" One of his hands slipped under the waist of her breeches and discovered dampness.

  She sighed. So she hadn't fooled him. Oh well... "I came for information."

  "No, you came for advice. You have all the information you need. But as you are here, perhaps you have other needs I can palliate?"

  "I expect so." She covered his intrusive hand with one of hers and voiced a faint moan. "Would you be in a position to help me relieve my stress?"

  "That will take several positions, dear, and a considerable amount of time but yes, I think I'm up to doing a great deal in regard to that matter." From the evidence between his legs, he was. Feldspar shivered in anticipation, and remembered delight. Spinecracker knew what she wanted far more than Skythane ever had. Older men had their charms. They understood sex was as much mind-science as physical manipulation.

  * * * * *

  Grunt opened another frame for yet another search. Damn backbone got hard to massage when you were looking for stuff that wasn't officially there. Had to find the right disc and bore in and even then, you had to get lucky. Stuff from around the founding of Diluvia got garbled by having gone through generations of computing technology, not to mention the Great Changeover when the babbling languages of the sentient beings got smashed into the Common Tongue, the language the Terrans called English. Damn Shakespeare--if it wasn't for him, her Old Elvish would be better and she'd speak some warped modern variant of Dwarf-Speak--as if that would be any use researching legends.

  A red-bordered frame blipped into the centre of the dozen frames already open on her monitor. "An Urgent Communication"--yeah, sure it was. Still, she'd been waiting for it. Daddy Square wasn't going to let her bugger off without an argument. She'd hoped he'd be dumb enough to come hammering on her door so she could just flatten him in righteous anger and be on her way. Nope, the old blockhead had learned. She shut down her searches, disconnected her com-reader, and ran a scrubber to wipe the vestiges of what she'd been doing from the terminal. She'd continue later, using the dinky com-reader screen… after she said a fond farewell to the family inn.

  Daddy Square would be down in the common room, honking back ale like it was his last day of life. Piss her off and it might be, but no, offing your genetic forebearers was frowned upon with heavy brows by the gods … ethereal, hidebound meddlers that they were. Needed new blood, they did. Needed blood of any sort--most of them had ascended so long ago they didn't remember what it was to be flesh. Or so went her theory. She talked to the gods all the time, but the discorporate idiots never answered.

  Before she went downstairs she tossed her pack out the window. Wouldn't be back, except in passing. Had a feeling about that, she did--couldn't say why. And how did she feel about home? Revulsion about covered it. Only reason she'd hung around so long was waiting for something-or-other-she-knew-not-what. It hinged on the Prophesied
and now Feldspar had been forced into some action other than looking for her mythical "true love", that "something" probably was going to happen. Damn it, she'd make it happen if Feldspar didn't. Her soul-sister could be a cloud-brain.

  The common area of the inn was packed. Pretty much every male dwarf she'd ever ridden or given a taste to was in attendance. Did Daddy Square think pleasures of the flesh would be enough to keep her? Might have been, if any of the swellheaded, flaccid-groined candidates present were as good as they thought. Trouble was, they didn't think… all that blood rushing to between their legs deprived their brains… all thrust, no wiggle. She'd take an elf over any of them... even a human. Better not say that, though. Could start another war. Damn idiots nigh on worshipped her; they did… in their tumescent way. Considered her body their property… had that backwards, they did.

  As she descended the staircase--they all were staring-- Daddy Square gulped his tankard down and waddled to intercept her. Must be important, in his mind. Didn't even stop for a refill.