Adornments of Glory

by J. Crispin-Ripley

  "It will have to do. Here." Ishtar stepped forward, the sheaf of currency Roger had approved in her hand.

  "Unnecessary." The man waved Ishtar away. "Having Ms. Bedarova choose to stay here is a coup for the Westshire. Should upper management decide her stay is to be other than complimentary, we'll bill Megacentenarian Productions. Front!"

  A small man dressed in grotesque plaid livery scuttled up, glanced at the packs on their backs and then tried to take Ishtar's new computer from her hand. Rabid grabbed Ishtar's free arm before she could swing. The man led them to an elevator similar to those that went down to the dwarven food mines except more ornate and much smaller.

  Their suite was as large as the common room of Square's inn, the carpet red and ankle deep, the furniture white leather. It wasn't where Feldspar would have chosen to stay but she could tolerate it, she hoped. She swung her pack off her back and onto a small table, almost knocking off a vase of flowers. Something was wrong about the plants. She felt a leaf. They weren't real. Or rather, they were real but weren't real flowers.

  Ishtar gave the liveried man a bill. "Thank you ever so much." He bowed and left.

  "Linda Bedarova?" Feldspar felt dazed.

  "No wonder Belinda didn't want anyone other than her to come to Terra." Ishtar put her computer on another small table. "Other people must know--quite a few other people: Windrover, Square, Spinecracker...."

  "Spinecracker," Feldspar said. She took a deep breath. "You're right... he'd have to know." Spinecracker knew other things, like that she could become Belinda. Windrover and Square? She had her doubts.

  "Damn right," Ishtar continued, "and just wait 'til I see him again. But for now, we have to find out what the bitch has been up to. Where do I plug this thing in? Here. Let's see, I guess this is a port. Wires, how primitive..."

  "Aren't you going to upgrade the software first?"

  "No damn time. Besides, I got a year's free Internet access with this. Suppose I can live with the crap operating system. We have to find out about Belinda's Terran persona and that Megacenturian Productions thing the desk clerk mentioned. Bitch Belinda... guess all those times she disappeared from Capitol, she really disappeared."

  "No one would look too hard for her." Feldspar knew she never had. When Belinda wasn't around you just thanked the gods.

  "Linda Bedarova. Damn, why won't this thing connect? I should have heard of her when I was studying Terra and I didn't--not that I'd have made a connection without visuals, but still... damn Spinecracker's been filtering a lot from the Terran signal."

  "Could be him." If anyone could control content from Terra it would be Spinecracker.

  "Could be? Has to be. Damn, damn, damn. How does this thing work? Bet Belinda's been bedding him too, the slime."

  Feldspar wasn't sure whether Ishtar meant that Belinda or Spinecracker was slime. Her vote was for both, but especially Spinecracker. If that elf had been with her mother... well... his bedding Ishtar was bad enough but forgivable. If he'd been with Belinda, ever, Feldspar was going to kill him... if Ishtar didn't first.

  "Wow! Look at this!" Rabid had quickly lost interest in Ishtar's struggle with Terran technology and wandered off into the other rooms. Good idea. Ishtar was cursing under her breath at primitive software and free Internet accounts that were worth every copper.

  Feldspar found Rabid sprawled in the centre of a gigantic, heart-shaped bed. Its cover matched the room's carpet--an even brighter red than that in the main area. There was a tub in the corner, also heart-shaped and mirrors on the ceiling. This bedroom wasn't designed for sleeping.

  Rabid bounced to a sit, sprung to the floor and teleported across the room in three flickers. "Bet this is a television. Wonder how you turn it on?" He ran his hands over the featureless surface.

  "Use the pad of buttons by the bed--they call it a 'remote control.' Don't look at me like that. I'm not in on whatever this conspiracy is--I've seen Terran televisions at the Academy."

  "Feldspar? Rabid? I found something."

  Ishtar had a picture of Belinda on her computer screen. Belinda naked, cuddling with a craggy older man. Not much question what they'd just been doing. "It seems your mother is a movie star, and a harlot as well here on Terra. Suppose because of all the people here they produce sex shows on film, rather than on stage. Damn Spinecracker. Next time I see him, he's dead."

  "Not if I see him first. No wonder he won't bring in video or even photos from Terra--it has nothing to do with bandwidth."

  And no wonder people had been looking at her downstairs. Or rather, at Belinda. She hadn't thought her mother had the class to make people want to watch her having sex. She couldn't imagine anyone on Diluvia would. Terrans were sick. Still..."We've got more immediate concerns."

  "What? What could be? He's a traitor and she's a traitor and half the damn elves on Diluvia are damn traitors. Belinda probably stole the damn Adornments herself."

  "Why the elves?" Rabid asked, inching away from Ishtar.

  "Well, most of you come to Terra, sooner or later, don't you? All that racial guilt about the whole Atlantis thing?"

  "Very few in recent years, other than exiles. Most have given up on Terra. Frankly, I can see why."

  "Then you're traitors to your principles, instead of Diluvia."

  "A dwarf defending humans? My my... so miracles can happen."

  "I'll give my mother one thing. She's a great actress," Feldspar said, in hopes of forestalling the argument. Belinda's alarm regarding the theft had seemed genuine and she was in on it. "Unless there's some sort of double cross involved," she added in an afterthought. As the Bard said, there was no honour among thieves, "but right now, that doesn't matter."

  "Not as far as finding the Adornments, no," Ishtar agreed. "After... maybe. But we've got immediate concerns. I'm sure they aren't really letting Belinda stay here for free. They expect payment in kind." Ishtar's face twisted into a leer.

  "Sex?" With the vow in place that would be a problem.

  "Nothing that honest and straightforward. Not on Terra."

  "Ishtar means Terrans think trading sex directly for value is reprehensible." Feldspar and Ishtar both turned to look at Rabid. "Once again let me say I hope you youngsters don't think I'm here only to swell the party and trade insults. Shakespeare's works had just taken over on Diluvia when I was growing up so I was one of the first elves to grow up thinking in English. I've read pretty much all the Terran fiction that's been put into a civilised electronic form since."

  "I haven't that much spare time, and most of it's crap. Two worlds--one Bard. Anyway, could you save the damn lecture for some other time and just tell our glorified leader what is about to happen?" Despite her words, the usual venom was missing from Ishtar's voice. She sounded... tired? Weary?

  "Belinda is famous so we're going to get visitors, lots of them, all squirming to meet her," Rabid answered.

  "Why? Everyone on Diluvia knows who I am and they don't all rush to see me wherever I am."

  "Don't they?" Ishtar's eyes were glittering. "You've never noticed how an inn common room fills up after you arrive? Besides, we're not in Kansas any more, dodo. Terrans make pilgrimages to see people like Linda Bedarova hoping some of the lustre will rub off on them, much like Diluvians visit places like... like say, for instance, your shrine."

  "They don't!"

  Ishtar turned to Rabid. "We can't expect her to deal with reality on Terra. Never has at home so why would she start here?"

  "Okay, then there's an easy solution. Here, I'm not known as myself." Feldspar became Feldspar in appearance. "There. Now they'll leave us alone."

  "Damn brilliant, that's what you are. If they can't find her they'll look all the harder. She's been seen. You can't undo what's already done."

  There was a knock on the door. "I'd say the procession has started," Ishtar continued. "No damn way we're going to be able to deal with her worshippers and find the Adornments to boot. We can't stay here."

  "Nonsense." As it came out,
Feldspar realised she'd just used Belinda's favourite word, in the woman's voice. Scary. She went to the door and opened it. "Yes?"

  "Hotel security. I'm Jack Sleet, the chief. We'd like to discuss arrangements."

  "Arrangements?" Feldspar stepped back, as much to get out of range of Jack Sleet's bad breath and malign aura as to let him in. Sleet was a big man, her height and the width of the door--at least around the waist. His slitted eyes, brown and bloodshot, brought to mind a wild boar ready to charge. He pushed past Feldspar, into the room.

  "And I'm Susan Milano, hotel public relations. Is this a good time or should we come back?" A head shorter than Feldspar, her skin was the brownish saffron of the wide-sea people with the usual black hair and dark eyes. She'd been standing well back of Jack Sleet.

  "And you are?" Susan's smile--her aura--sent tingles down Feldspar's spine. Everything about her was so controlled and precise. One longed to ruffle her composure.

  "I'm Feldspar." She heard the catch in her voice and hoped no one else had. The woman her mother had sent to tempt her with at the Harlequin's Head had been roughly sensual; Susan Milano was similar in appearance but in comparison, concupiscence personified. "Please, come in." And stay.

  "Can I see Ms. Bedarova?" Jack Sleet's voice brought Feldspar crashing down from the sky.

  "Not unless your eyes are different than mine." Ishtar didn't like him either. "She's not in the damn room."

  "She's resting," Rabid added as Jack Sleet puffed up for a response.

  "And what the hell are you all about, boy? I mean--green hair? Why?"

  "I think you were right, Ishtar. We shouldn't have checked into this hotel." Feldspar started towards the bedroom with the giant heart-shaped bed. "I'll wake up Linda and tell her we're leaving." She hoped neither visitor would think it strange when Linda Bedarova appeared wearing the same outfit she had on.

  "Just one minute there, young lady. Please?" That last word didn't sound right coming from Jack Sleet. "Ol' Jack was just funning. We can't let you leave."

  "We're prisoners?" From the undertone in her question Ishtar was a sliver away from pounding Sleet into the carpet.

  "No, no, no, no." He took a deep breath. "I'm... is that my beeper? Got to go. Suzy Q, you take care of these folks, why don't you?" He stopped to open the door. Feldspar had wondered if he was going to run through it.

  Susan Milano smiled at Feldspar. At her, not Ishtar or Rabid... or at Belinda. "I hope you're not really going to leave."

  "We should. We were thinking of it."

  "What can I do to change your mind?"

  Ishtar gave a barking laugh. "You probably don't want her to answer that question." Feldspar felt herself blush. "Then again, yeah... maybe you do."

  Susan Milano seemed puzzled, but only for a moment. "Oh. Well, better you than Jack. Much better." She smiled again, at Ishtar this time, a quite different smile. "Your mother has a reputation for being unequivocal and tough. I see you share that as well as her looks. Oh, I'm sorry, I suppose you must be tired of being identified in terms of her."

  "Well, they both are blonde." Feldspar wanted to laugh--she shouldn't, she really shouldn't. Ishtar was fuming at the thought anyone might consider she resembled Belinda in the least. Feldspar wanted to tell Susan Milano the truth--that she was really Belinda's daughter, not Ishtar, and that here in this hotel, she was Belinda as well. But they had to maintain the fiction they'd started downstairs. Fictions were like that; you had to keep them going. "Most people don't think Ishtar and Belinda are related." That was certainly true.

  "I'm surprised," Susan responded with an elegantly lifted eyebrow. "To me it's obvious. But I can see that's a sensitive point and it's certainly none of my business. The reason Jack and I came up was to ensure that when Ms. Bedarova appears in public in the hotel, we have adequate security. Public relations is my field so if you'll pardon me touching on another sensitive subject, the media attention will be even more extreme than usual, considering your presence, Ms. Ishtar. Were you and your mother considering having a press conference to explain why no one's known of you until now?"

  "We hadn't thought about it. Could we have a few minutes to discuss things? Feldspar? Rabid? Do you think we should disturb my mother's nap?"

  It wasn't really a question. Feldspar grabbed her pack. For a planned appearance as Belinda as opposed to an extemporaneous one, she should change. All she had with her was another set of leathers and a black frock. The frock would have to do. "You'll excuse us?"

  "Of course." Susan smiled... the room brightened.

  Feldspar knew she wouldn't be back as herself. What would Susan make of that? Would she take it as a rejection? But the quest was what mattered and the quest demanded Feldspar be Belinda.

  "This is so perfect. I love it. Yes!" Ishtar leapt into the air and did a somersaulting dive onto the gigantic heart-shaped bed.

  "You like being Belinda's daughter? I never have."

  "I don't mind." Ishtar bounced to her feet. "I can destroy her reputation."

  "That doesn't have anything to do with the quest." A leader's task was to keep the party's focus clear. Besides, if she couldn't enjoy Susan why should Ishtar have her little pleasures?

  "No, I suppose it doesn't... but it's a great bonus. Rabid? You look worried. Why? Everything's going great!"

  "Is it?" Rabid went to the window and opened the drapes. "Stand here and tell me that."

  Feldspar joined him. It was a long way down. Every direction she looked there were buildings; haze covered the tops of the tallest. Buildings meant people. They had to look for one person in this? "There might be as many people in this one city as there are on all Diluvia."

  "Nowhere near." Ishtar was beside her, looking. The exuberance was gone from her voice. "And don't you worry... we'll find the prick. But yeah, there are far too many people on Terra--a hundred of them for each of us. Isn't that about right, Rabid?"

  "You're asking me? You're the scholar."

  "That's right, you're just another pretty... face. I forget."

  "I'm an artist who reads."

  "So what's your feel on our situation? Is Ishtar right? Should I play the part of my mother?" So many people... so many.

  "Which question do you want me to answer?" Rabid turned to look at her. "At the moment you don't have much choice about who you're going to be."

  "I suppose not." People were expecting Belinda. Feldspar sighed--and changed.

  Rabid rubbed his eyes, shook his head and looked again. "Even to one as jaded as me, that's amazing. I gather not many on Diluvia know you're an adept--that you can do miracles with so little effort?"

  "Skythane knows." Ishtar's tone of voice added sentences worth of dry reproach and wry amusement.

  "Ah, a bedroom trick! I see... yes, I can see how he might enjoy experiencing Belinda without her present."

  Feldspar was afraid he did. "And Ishtar knows, of course, and..." she said quickly. Except Ishtar wasn't on Diluvia. Okay, who else? "Spinecracker... maybe Planetsinger... that's about it."

  Ishtar groaned. "Spinecracker? Damn! If he knows, so does Belinda."

  "I suppose." She'd been thinking that earlier, hadn't she? "But he doesn't know I can hold the shape forever. Besides, even if Belinda does know, she won't think I've got the imagination or the guts to masquerade as her in public."

  "Which you don't. Or at least, haven't until now." Sometimes Ishtar seemed tall or at least, imposing. "So, what are you going to wear?"

  Rabid gave Feldspar a critical look. "Your leather looks fine on Belinda, except you lack the strut she'd have in it. Besides, we can't have her and you wearing the same thing."

  "I think that's obvious." Rabid wasn't much help. "I've got a black dress."

  "Which you don't think will work either." Rabid smiled. "And if that's the way you feel about it, and yourself... it won't. Maybe we'd better reconsider this masquerade."

  "Oh no... Feldspar will be just fine. And, if Belinda needs new clothes, I'll go tell our guard
we want to go shopping." Ishtar hurried away. Feldspar saw a pair of spray-on silver pants in Ishtar's future.

  "And I'll go see if I can interest Susan in tonight," Rabid said with an exaggerated wink. "Got to give her an incentive to stay with us... unless you'd rather I didn't?"

  Rabid saw too much. "How can I be jealous over someone I just met?" His eyebrows lifted--he wasn't going to answer that question. "And yes, I was thinking she might be our fifth member." That was not what she'd been thinking about Susan, at least, not the central thought.

  "That way she'll be around when your vow expires."

  "That isn't why."

  "Of course not." Rabid left the room, chuckling.