"Care to explain, ma'am?"
"Constipation, I suspect."
"About the handcuffs."
"Handcuffs?" She looked at the other man. "Hey mister, just because I wouldn't let you pick me up is no reason to cause trouble."
The guard switched his attention to the man. "Is that what this is about?"
"No way. She's lying. Here, see for yourself." Two quick steps and he opened the door.
Feldspar let the sign change back. "He told you there was a guy in handcuffs in the ladies room?"
"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing, mister?"
While they were arguing, Rabid emerged. Feldspar immediately dealt with the handcuffs and stepped forward. "Pardon me, do you need us for anything?"
The guard looked at her, then at Rabid. "Don't think so. Sorry for the misunderstanding. Have a nice day."
"Thank you." She started back towards where Ishtar was waiting. "You okay?" she asked Rabid, quietly.
"Fine. I just hadn't considered the inherent difficulty of performing certain necessary sanitary protocols with one's hands shackled." He sounded embarrassed.
Feldspar managed to not laugh. Not the runs after all. "Got it. I think we'd better get out of here though."
* * * * *
The streets were busy, but two hours after sunrise the only Terran shops open were those selling food. Mind you, going by the time they'd left Diluvia it was after lunch. Feldspar wouldn't have eaten in the underground mall anyway--the place smelled of rancid fat and burnt sugar--that was probably why few people ate there. No, when travelling, Feldspar always followed Skythane's principle of "eat where the locals prefer to eat", especially when the inn of one lodge was preferred over others.
The most popular eatery in sight was called Buffoon Burgers. It evoked memories of Harlequin's Head, although the colours of the sign were far less attractive. Still, this probably was the gods giving her a sign. Feldspar led her party in without consulting--she was the leader, after all. They joined the end of the serving line.
The closer they got to the counter the more Feldspar began to think she'd made a mistake. The odours in the air were the same as in the underground, and the servers had the glazed eyes of zombies. The food was served in boxes and covered with bags. Feldspar suspected there was a good reason for that. Still, she didn't want to seem indecisive, so they were going to eat here. The man in front of them ordered a 'number three'.
"Three number threes." She smiled at the server.
"That'll be twelve bucks."
Ishtar had the money. When Feldspar turned to ask, Ishtar already had it out. She put the top bill on the counter. When the girl didn't take it, she put down another.
"Hey, like we only take Canadian and American here. Where's this stuff from anyway?"
"Europe," Feldspar said. Where else would a Euro come from?
"Cool, but I can only take Canadian or American."
"Here, take what you need," Ishtar said, displaying a fan of paper in her hand.
"Jeez, you guys from outer space or something? You rob a currency exchange? Bet this is one of those secret camera shows, right? Okay, I'll take this one. Kind of big, but I can make change." The server plucked her choice from Ishtar's hand, punched buttons on her machine and handed back five bills and a handful of coins. "There. Change for a hundred. Try and have some small stuff next time, okay?"
The food was as bad as Feldspar had feared. Fat oozed and pooled in glistening ponds, the eggs were overcooked with pallid yolks and the meat, unrecognisable... if it was indeed meat. At least it wasn't beef. The cardboard cup had "Coffee" written on the side and a picture of a mound of beans. It was the right colour, but tasted like water.
"Good choice, illustrious leader," Ishtar said, pushing away her plate. "This stuff smells like harpy droppings, no... ogre barf."
"People are looking at us." Ishtar's loud comment had garnered a few chuckles and many puzzled looks from nearby tables.
"Well of course they're looking. You're both beautiful. Say, I think that woman serving likes me." Rabid stood and started back towards the counter. "I'm going ask her for a liaison."
The server picked up a telephone.
Ishtar jumped to her feet and grabbed the invisible chain between Rabid's hands. "Can't you keep it in your pants for even one day?"
The place fell silent. All eyes were on them. Ishtar and Rabid looked at Feldspar, guilty expressions on their faces. Feldspar nodded towards the door. Time to leave. The food was inedible and they were doing a poor job of fitting in. She should have insisted Roger stay to guide them. She should have chosen a different place to eat.
A police car pulled up as they stepped outside. The officer who got out was the size of a small troll. He wasn't one of those who'd been at the accident scene, praise the Unknown.
"They went that way." Feldspar pointed down the block. The officer's eyes didn't leave her. Fine--time to confuse the issue--Feldspar became Belinda.
"Can't fool me with that old trick--holy shit--I mean pardon me, I didn't recognise you at first, ma'am."
"You know who I am?"
"Of course."
Feldspar didn't like the sound of that. She changed back into herself. The policeman's stare lost focus. His mouth moved but no words emerged.
"You okay?" If he fainted she wasn't going to try catching him.
"Yeah. No. Sorry to bother you." He shook his head and turned to go into Buffoon Burgers.
"Pardon me. Sir?" What was Ishtar doing? He'd been leaving. "You thought you saw someone you knew?" A hesitant nod. "Yeah, I did too. Weird, wasn't it? Who did you see? Aw, come on, tell me."
The policeman shook his head. "Must have been the light or something. You were leaving?"
Feldspar glanced at the officer still in the car. From what she could tell he was making a point of looking elsewhere. "We were leaving. Thank you."
Lunch break took forever to arrive. Roger loaded rack after rack after rack of dishes into the machine, took them out at the other end and put them on the shelves. He should have booked off sick--stupid, stupid, stupid. Shock, he'd been in shock, that had to be it. Still was. Elves? Dwarves? Gods? Two of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. What was he doing here? A quest? Okay, he'd read Tolkien, who hadn't? People on quests didn't wash dishes, didn't kiss the hairy butts of surly cooks and waiters, didn't wait for lunch break for the story to continue. Well, expect maybe in Tolkien... he was slow-paced.
"Watch where you're going, asshole!"
"Sorry." He'd almost sent a waiter flying.
"Grapefruit spoons. Where are the damn grapefruit spoons, O'Brien? Cutlery--get it washed."
"Yes sir." The headwaiter was the worst of them. When he made it as an actor, Roger was going to come back to the Westshire and return everything to the kitchen to be re-cooked or replaced. And he wouldn't leave a tip.
"Hey, we need juice glasses. Hello, world to dishwasher--get your ass in gear."
Finally it was ten. The breakfast dishes were done and lunch hadn't started. Roger stripped off his rubber apron and left.
Ishtar and Rabid were sitting in the corner of the food court, Rabid facing the wall. It didn't look like they'd had any luck removing his handcuffs. Which, as he got closer, were all too visible. Feldspar was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is she?" In jail, probably.
"In what you Terrans call the 'Ladies'." Ishtar's smile was thin. "Again. It's one thing she can manage without your expert advice."
"Oh." From the sounds of it, things weren't going well.
"Don't worry, she'll figure things out." Roger wasn't sure if Ishtar was teasing. The plumbing might be different on Diluvia. Who'd know? Epic fantasy seldom took bathroom breaks. "I'm glad you came back." Ishtar put a hand on Roger's arm. He reacted instantly.
Rabid laughed. "He looks like me, waist down. You might want to tone down your charisma, Ishtar."
"Oops, sorry. Not fair when I can't finish what I start. Roger, we need you to
explain Terran money."
"You don't use money on Diluvia?" It was difficult to focus on what Ishtar was saying.
"You probably should unhand him as well," Rabid said. "And maybe you should get Feldspar to teach you how to shield."
"Like she could teach me anything." Ishtar's hand left Roger as she took a step away from him. The world felt emptier. "We had another run-in with the cops, at a place called Buffoon Burgers..." Feldspar returned partway through the story. Roger hardly noticed. Ishtar's voice was a caress. He did understand what she was saying, however. Bathrooms might not be a problem, but money was, although in a different manner than he was used to money being a problem.
"How much cash do you have?" People with the sort of cash they apparently had wouldn't eat at Buffoon Burgers. That alone would arouse suspicion. As to how much cash they had, Ishtar's answering smile spoke sarcasm. Of course... if she could answer that question, she wouldn't have asked him to explain money.
Roger sat, his back to the room, shielding the table as he looked at their bankroll. Good thing. They had more money than he'd ever seen, at least in its variety: dollars from half a dozen countries, Euros, pesos, pounds, rubles and a number of currencies he didn't recognise offhand. There was more American than anything, and a few thousand Canadian. Big bills. He learned they'd paid for breakfast with a hundred, after showing off a good bit of the stash. Yeah, that would have got them noticed.
"How long did you say this quest should take?" he asked.
"Two weeks at the most." Feldspar glanced at Ishtar. "Right?"
"Less, we hope."
"And you aren't going to need to travel?" Airplane fares were expensive.
"Not as far as we know." Ishtar answered without consulting anyone. "Indications are that Delarone has his headquarters here in Noronto."
"How do you know that?" Feldspar asked.
"The portal records show this is where he always comes. Evidently he isn't worried about being found." She looked at Feldspar. "Oh, you mean how do I know that? I massaged the backbone before you showed up and after the rumours were out. Spinecracker's shown me a few back doors into the system."
"And you've shown him a back door of your own I'd presume?"
"Can we keep on topic?" Roger screwed up his courage and moved between them. "My lunch break is only half an hour. You're going to need a place to stay. My place is too small." Almost too small for one person although perfect for two--like himself and Ishtar--half an hour, don't daydream. "You should get a room. Here at the Westshire, I suppose." He sorted the cash, taking the American and Canadian out. "Pay with this. Tell them you're in Noronto scouting movie locations." That should make the backpacks, Rabid's green hair and almost any bizarre behaviour acceptable. Movie people were expected to be strange.
"That sounds too easy." Ishtar stowed the unwanted currency in her pack. "What could go wrong?"
Almost anything. "You all look too young."
"But people don't respect age here. Terrans are stupid that way." Ishtar said with certainty.
"Old age. No, I guess we don't." Roger took a moment to phrase an answer mentally before he spoke. "But young people aren't respected either, not really. It's hard to say who is... people with money, I suppose, but to have the sort of money you're carrying you should be older. They might think you're drug pushers." Or in the movies, Roger realised, a bit too late. He couldn't take back his words. It would make him sound unsure of himself or worse, foolish.
"Okay, we'll do it. But don't expect we're going to hide there waiting for you." Ishtar stood. "No damn way. We have things to do."
"You can do research from the room. They have Internet connections. I got the impression you know how to use the Internet."
"Yeah, but I don't have a primitive enough computer to hook in. All I brought was my com-reader," she said patting the small handheld on her belt.
"Which won't work without our Diluvian satellites," Rabid added.
Ishtar and Feldspar looked surprised to hear from Rabid on the matter. "Like Roger said, people here don't respect age. You two should fit in--I'll have you know I'm pushing four hundred."
Right. That was interesting, and while he wanted to know how a com-reader worked, Roger knew he had only twenty minutes to do whatever and get back to work. "There's a computer store half a block down. We can buy a notebook for you." Ishtar had enough Canadian currency for that, which would leave the American to pay the hotel. That probably was better anyway. Movie people tended to be Americans.
It took longer than expected. Ishtar wanted the best, which meant she didn't want the standard operating system and software. "Damn cobbled-together junk. You have Linux?"
They did, but wouldn't discount the price of the software Ishtar intended to erase. Every scrap of the Canadian money went to the purchase and Roger had to put the extra software on his credit card. Ishtar gave him a hundred American in exchange. He got back to the hotel kitchen fifteen minutes late, after arranging to meet the Diluvians in the food court in four hours. If he got fired, he'd look for them in the hotel. They'd be okay getting a room on their own. No one questioned cash.
The reception area of this Westshire Inn Hotel would swallow Square's Inn or Harlequin's Head... well, perhaps, not quite. Feldspar looked up... okay, the gabled roof of Square's might brush the chandelier, but still, this building was immense, far larger than any on Diluvia, even the Academy's Library. And it was far from the largest building in the city of Noronto. A being could get swallowed in this city without anyone else taking notice.
"So, we going to get that damn room or stand here looking stupid?"
"I don't think looking stupid is our problem," Rabid said with a strangled laugh. "Except, perhaps mine." He tugged his new hat down. It didn't hide his green hair... it didn't even match. Yes, they were getting their share of attention or, at any rate, his hair and Ishtar's breasts were.
"But will they give us a room? Roger thinks we all look too young to have enough money to stay here."
"He didn't quite say that," Ishtar responded. "But if that's all that's worrying you, look older. No one would mistake your mother for a child."
"True... but from the way that policeman reacted earlier, they might mistake her for someone they know."
"All the better. Don't you want to know why he thought he knew her?"
"Suppose so. Yes, I do. Okay...." Feldspar glanced around. With the stares Rabid and Ishtar were drawing she couldn't change into Belinda out in the open. Back downstairs in the ladies' facilities? She couldn't think of anywhere better. "I'm going to need somewhere more private."
"Why?" Ishtar asked. "Just take a couple of steps back. I'll make sure no one notices."
"Okay." If Ishtar's plan, whatever it was, didn't work, then they'd go downstairs. She moved away from Ishtar and Rabid.
"Damn! Sure is hot in here!" Ishtar's voice resounded in the lobby. "I'm sweating like a pig. Here hold this." She gave Rabid the computer and undid two clasps on her top. One more and she'd fall out of it. Aha! Yes, everyone was watching to see if she would as she took back the laptop. Feldspar became Belinda and stepped forward again.
"Do yourself up. That's indecent." And all eyes were suddenly on her. Interesting, Belinda was more fascinating to these people than Ishtar's breasts? Why? Belinda must be known on Terra. They'd have to investigate that... later. Right now... "You can undress when we get our room," she said, grabbing Ishtar's hand and dragging her towards the desk.
"Linda Bedarova!" The man behind the desk certainly thought he recognised Belinda. Linda Bedarova? Was that an alias, or did Belinda just happen to resemble some Terran notable? Unlikely, but it could be. Feldspar wondered how she should react? Deny being this Linda Bedarova?
Ishtar decided matters. "Very good--now that you've identified her, put your eyes back in your head and give us a damn room."
The man glanced at Ishtar almost as hard, her face first--then her nigh on exposed breasts and then, with an effort, her face once more. "I d
idn't know Ms. Bedarova had a daughter. You have to be her daughter--you look just like her."
"Yeah, I suppose... if she had tits."
"Pardon me?"
"Too damn bad I don't look like my father instead," Ishtar continued, "then we might know who he was."
"What?" The man's head jerked up from his latest examination of Ishtar's endowment. He pasted the smile on his face and turned to Belinda. "Sorry, but you have to admit..." A shake of the head, as if to clear it. "Pardon me again... I hope you won't mind staying in our Bridal Suite, Ms. Bedarova. On such short notice it's the only decent set of rooms we have available."
Adornments of Glory Page 9
