Adornments of Glory

by J. Crispin-Ripley

  No, Feldspar was the gutless one, leaving their companion behind. Okay, she probably was right and Rabid would free himself from his captors, but still--those men should be recycled before they could do what they wanted to do to Rabid to anyone else. Yeah, Terra was every bit as sick as people said. No damn values, letting creatures like those uniformed monsters breathe. She moved a bit closer to Roger and let her hip bump his. He jumped.

  "Sorry." Was he scared of her, along with everything else?

  "For what?" She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Come on, we'd better catch up with Feldspar."

  "What about Rabid? Shouldn't we wait for him?"

  "You're right. If we go too far, he might not find us." She stopped, yanking him to a halt. She bent to pick up a pebble and felt his eyes admiring her backside. Damn vow… she threw the pebble, harder than she'd meant to, hitting Feldspar on the shoulder. Feldspar looked back at them and then beyond.

  Ishtar turned. Ishtar--she liked the name, it was so much better than Grunt. Rabid was flickering towards them like the half-assed teleport he was. His hands were still in manacles, but he was free. He stopped in front of them and grinned.

  "Don't get too involved with her, Roger, she's out of action until the quest succeeds."

  She wouldn't dignify that with an answer. "I suppose you can't teleport out of the cuffs? No? Well, I can probably pick the locks, but it will take some time."

  Roger squeezed her hand. "This isn't the place to try. Those cops will be looking for him."

  "Doubt it." Rabid laughed. "You should have seen the looks on their faces when I zapped from inside their car, then tapped on the window. Those boys are scared. One might need a change of trousers." He smiled at Feldspar as she arrived beside them. "Thanks for trusting me to get away from them on my own."

  "What else could I have done?" Her eyes moved from Rabid to Roger, to Roger's hand. "Ishtar, remember your vow."

  "What? Oh yeah, damn right." She shook off Roger and turned to face Feldspar. "We're on this cesspool planet, their police are chasing us, and what bothers you is that the first man we met fell for me, not you. Damn idiot, that's what you are."

  "You don't understand."

  "I don't? Why?"

  "Ladies... could you save this fight for a better time?" Rabid held his manacled hands in front of him. "While those particular thugs may not come after me, others are sure to notice."

  "Can't notice what they can't see." Feldspar moved closer to Rabid. "There--all gone." The handcuffs were invisible. Neat trick... Ishtar had to admit that... to herself.

  Roger jumped backwards. "What... what happened?"

  "Nothing. And don't you run away." Ishtar wrapped an arm around his waist to make sure he couldn't… and because she wanted to. "Feldspar's an illusionist. She's spent her whole life hiding. Shrouding a small thing like that is easy for her."

  "Not that easy. I'll have to maintain physical contact. Let's see... I can't hold hands with him while he's wearing those things... oh well…." She hooked an arm through one of Rabid's. He didn't seem to mind.

  "Can you do anything about the hair?" Roger asked. "If they're looking, that's what they'll be looking for... green hair. I suppose we could just get him a hat."

  "That would be easier. Where?" Feldspar asked.

  "There'll be shops open at the hotel where I work... work... I'm going to be late. I've got to get to work. Can we get going?"

  It seemed he'd changed his mind about his job, but he'd asked her, not Feldspar. Ishtar liked that. She'd forgive his wavering. And the pleading look in his soft brown eyes was a real thrill. If it wasn't for the vow she'd push him down on the grass and take him right here.

  "You're right. Let's go." Feldspar sounded decisive. Good for her. "Okay, which way?" So much for decisive.

  And no one moved. Roger didn't even glance at Feldspar. Got him! No doubt now… but she couldn't do anything interesting with him until they were finished this damn quest. So…

  The quest--she'd almost forgotten the quest? And why did she care about some human, mooning over her? A human? And a Terran human at that? Okay, for one of his race he wasn't bad but they were going to be around each other for a while and he was the sort of male that would get all obsessed and overly involved, maybe even start babbling about "love." That was Feldspar's thing, sucking in her partners' affections. The casual approach worked much better. Sex was like a meal--you ate, then you left the table.

  And come to think of it, why was she all-of-a-sudden the big draw? Here and at home? Shouldn't be, not around the Prophesied with all her damn foretold charisma.

  She shook off Roger's hand. "Feldspar? I think we've got a problem."

  "You mean you have?"

  Damn Feldspar's amused tone of voice. "Me, and us. Someone's messed with my aura."

  What was Grunt talking about? Not Grunt... Ishtar... she had to remember her soul-sister's new name. They needed to talk… privately.

  "Roger? You said you want to get to work? So why are you standing here? You're our guide--get moving." Feldspar snapped the last two words in her Belinda voice. Roger jumped.

  "Yes, ma'am." He started off at a rapid pace, by himself. Rabid by her side, she followed. As Ishtar would say, damn her stupidity for bringing a green elf on quest to Terra. It wasn't a normal hair colour here, and any fool should have been able to figure out it would make for trouble--any fool but her. Had to remember humans weren't a civilised race, not here. Except they were, sort of… in a different way... they were xenophobic same way that otherwise sophisticated dwarves hated anything not dwarvish. And she had to expect things to be different on Terra. But some things should remain the same, and they weren't.

  Ishtar was right. Someone or something was changing the very essence of who they were. On Diluvia, Ishtar had her following, but their newfound guide had eyes only for her. It wasn't that she was jealous of Ishtar, but that wasn't how things were or should be. And there was also the matter of the new name. Within minutes of being on Terra, she'd changed it. Being known as Grunt had suited her for twenty years... five minutes on Terra and she was Ishtar, a Terran aspect of The Huntress? Yes, something was most decidedly amiss.

  "You're right… someone ensorcelled you." Ishtar had fallen in beside her. Roger was still walking ahead of them, on his own, although he seemed to have slowed to let them catch up.

  At least the snort was as always, loud and derisive. "Don't talk like it's damn magic, not mind-science. Someone's been playing with my aura."

  "Semantics aside... who? Who could?" No one on Adepts Five had that kind of power. "Planetsinger?"

  "Doubt it. Even she's not that strong."

  Rabid cleared his throat. "Who witnessed the vow you ladies made at the shrine? Who cloaked the sun and made the earth tremble when you invited me along on this vacation? And who caused an accident, just as you drafted Roger?"

  "Damn rhetorical questions."

  "Damn females that don't pay attention... I've said this before--we're god-bitten, all of us. And when a gang of divine slime-lords has its teeth sunk in... Ishtar... it doesn't let go. If you and Roger have fallen for each other, it's all part of what they have ordained. Don't try waste your time fighting their wishes--even if you win, you'll lose."

  There was bitterness to his words. Feldspar felt she had to ask. "You know this from personal experience?"

  "My gift is a curse. I've bedded with more than my share of immortals. Everlasting life must get boring… perverts, every one of them… every damn one…."

  Rabid was still muttering under his breath as Roger led them through a set of double glass doors into a building, and downstairs. So, this was a mall. In contemporary Terran fiction, action was always taking place in malls, which some writers described as modern town squares. The place didn't do anything for Feldspar. The artificial lights were cold and the shops encased by glass and steel--even closed, their wares were on full display.

  Roger stopped and waited for them to catch up. "Okay, can
I ask a few questions now?" He sounded angry. Feldspar didn't blame him.

  "Can I apologise first?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bark at you like that. I'm not sure what got into me."

  Ishtar laughed. "Last night... nothing, and nothing will tonight either."

  Why wouldn't Ishtar just be quiet? "You're not helping." That she might be right didn't make it any better.

  Roger broke the brief silence. "Forgiven. I think you're frightened. Me too. It would help me to know what I've gotten into. What are these Adornments of Glory? Who has them? Why? What am I supposed to do as your guide? And should I be go into work or stay with you?"

  "Which question do you want answered?" Rabid asked. "Sorry, Feldspar. I'll be quiet."

  She'd only glanced at him. Did she seem that vicious to everyone? "No problem. I think we may work better as a collective. And you're right--we haven't the time to explain the Adornments now. Roger, as our guide you're to show us what you think we don't know about Terra."

  "I don't know what you don't know. And I'm not sure I understand why you know anything. Have you people been monitoring our communications? You speak good English, for aliens."

  Ishtar's laughter lacked its usual sarcastic edge. "Thank the elves and Shakespeare. Elves have traded out of London, and then New York and Hong Kong for about five hundred years. Since the Bard, one of the big imports has been literature."

  "You don't produce your own?"

  "Of course, but there aren't many Diluvians, compared to you. Not as much pain and anguish either, and that's what makes writers--or so they say."

  Feldspar stepped between them. Time to get the party back on track. "As for whether you should go into work, that's up to you. What do your entrails tell you?"

  Ishtar answered. "That he has to go in. His people are counting on him."

  "I'm a dishwasher."

  "And who's going to wash them if you don't show up? Keeping your word is important." Ishtar bumped him with a hip, making him stagger, then took his hand to steady him.

  "Then it's settled," Feldspar said, doing her best to project authority. "You get us a hat for Rabid, see if you can find us somewhere Ishtar can work on picking the lock on the manacles, and go do what you have to do." Forget that collective leadership nonsense--heading the party was her job.

  "There should be some good spots down this way." Roger led them down the corridor of shops.

  "Wow!" Ishtar dragged Roger to a stop in front of a mannequin sprayed waist down in glittering silver... no, those were pants. "I want a pair of those."

  "The stores here are expensive," Roger said. "You can get pretty much the same thing further down The Street for half the price."

  "We have money."

  "No, we don't." What was Ishtar talking about? "We turned Windrover's offer down."

  "And you took that packet from Spinecracker, just as we were leaving. That's what should be in it--currency. What did you do with it?"

  "Put it in my backpack and forgot about it." That answered the last question. Feldspar swung her pack around to see if Ishtar was right about the contents… yes--paper currency, and a note. "As promised. Collected from various travellers. I intend to collect from you. Spinecracker."

  She didn't remember him promising anything their last night together. And how had Ishtar known the nature of the gift? It couldn't be... except, looking at Ishtar's face, she knew it could. It felt like a betrayal.

  "You've been bedding him?"

  "And you have too? So that's where you were when you left me to sleep in the forest. No wonder the gods insisted you keep your pants on until the job they had for you was finished, you wanton girl you."

  "Listen to what's talking. I didn't know you'd started asking men to pay for your company."

  "So I want cash and you want devotion--just different prices. And for once I got what I wanted, other than a stiff cock between my legs."

  "I'd better go get that hat for Rabid." Roger rushed away.

  "You scared him." Feldspar had seen a red flush explode on Roger's face before he'd turned.

  "Terrans are reportedly queasy about sex," Rabid said with a slight laugh. "Hard to believe, considering how many of them there are."

  "Their gods claim controlling fertility is a sin." Feldspar had done her own reading.

  "No, a few of their gods' damn self-proclaimed interpreters that say that.... so they can get more cash. They're all like me, those mouthpieces... practical. If you read anything other than romantic trash, you'd know that, oh naive leader of mine."

  Feldspar took a deep breath. This wasn't good. They shouldn't be fighting each other. It was up to her, the commander, to pull them back together. "Bet Spinecracker's been laughing at the both of us for... years?" Had it been going on that long with Ishtar as well?

  "For years. And he's not even a good lay. Never thinks of his partner."

  "You're right, he doesn't." She thought Spinecracker did, but this a time to express solidarity, not to argue. "I think we should have a long talk with him when we get back."

  "Talk? I'm going to kill the bastard."

  A loud bell started ringing. Great--what was that? More trouble? But Roger was coming back towards them, a green cap in hand, and he didn't look worried.

  "Fire alarm," he shouted. "Been having trouble with them the past week. All false alarms." The bell cut off. "Whew! At least they're getting better at turning it off." He handed Rabid the green cap. "I think this should work. They're a baseball team from California--maybe people will think your hair is green because you're such a fan. And as luck would have it, they're in town this weekend."

  "Ah yes... Vida, Reggie, Catfish... now there was a team."

  "That was a while back... and I thought you'd never been to Earth."

  "I thought the same." Feldspar took Rabid's shoulders and wrenched him around to face her. "You lied?"

  "One of my acquaintances imports illegal videos of baseball games, especially the World Series. And don't grab me like that unless you mean it." His smile was thin.

  "Sorry." She let go.

  "You're looking for a place Ishtar can work on the handcuffs," Roger said, starting down the glass-lined hall. "Down here might be good."

  "Then again, it might not," he said a minute later. They were in a large cavern, filled with tables. Food vendors ringed the outside. A few were open for business and a number of tables were taken. "Maybe if you sit in a corner?"

  "Don't think so." Ishtar shook her head. "Feldspar will have to make the manacles visible again so I can work on them. Is it worth the risk?" she asked, looking up at Feldspar.

  "I can keep them invisible forever, as long as I don't have to do any other illusions. We'll wait."

  "Gee, thanks." Rabid shook his arms, rattling invisible chains.

  "But maybe you should sit here for a minute or so." Feldspar turned to Roger. "Did that door with the outline of someone in a skirt mean what I think?"

  "Probably."

  "I should make a visit. Rabid, if you face the wall, no one should notice the manacles."

  Roger laughed. "At this hour, most people don't see much--but I should get to work. You guys will be okay? Meet you here in about three hours? I get a break between breakfast and lunch."

  "We'll be fine," Feldspar assured him, and herself. Leadership lesson number one was to show confidence. She wasn't sure she could remember any of the other tenets. Oh yes, make peace... she'd just done that.

  When she got back, both Ishtar and Rabid expressed a need to go. "If I stand outside I should be able to keep the chains unseen," she said to Rabid. She hoped she could--she'd never tried anything of the sort before.

  While she was waiting, a man in a uniform with a patch that said "Inn Security" came by. He looked at her, smiled, and walked on. Ishtar came out and went back to the cavern to wait. A man who'd gone in after Rabid came out.

  "You're guarding the guy in cuffs?"

  "He's not dangerous."

  "Hmmm." He looked b
oth ways down the hall and seeing the security guard, started in that direction at a rapid pace.

  "Rabid." She banged on the door. "Emergency."

  "Here too," he answered in a strained voice.

  Great. She couldn't go inside--wouldn't want to anyway, considering. Sounded like nerves had given Rabid the runs. Down the hall the man who'd been in the facilities with Rabid was talking to the guard. Then they both started her way, walking quickly. If it came to a fight, she could beat both of them handily, but that was no solution. Think... make the door seem part of the wall? Possible... but no. She smiled. Keep it simple. She shifted to in front of the door with the skirt sign, and concentrated... two small changes.