"Do your worst."
The short blonde wasn't radiating power but when Sian touched her, she felt it swirling. "You're the eye of a storm. I'm glad we're on the same side but, overall, it would be safer to be far from you."
"Safety is dull. Try Feldspar now," Ishtar said, stepping away and breaking contact with Sian.
Sian took Feldspar's outstretched hand and felt a calm, ancient strength, solid at the core. "Totally different--an old soul. I studied with an Inuit shaman for a time. Next to you, he was a child."
"Well, she is the Prophesied," Ishtar said.
Sian shook her head. "I don't think so. Feldspar embodies Order, not Chaos. She's an anchor. You're the one surrounded by swirling portents, Ishtar... not her. If anyone here is 'the Prophesied', it's you."
Sian's pronouncement didn't surprise Feldspar, which in itself surprised her. Ishtar, on the other hand, appeared to be in shock. The trembling in her body extended to her voice.
"I'm not the damn Prophesied. I can't be. Feldspar is. She's Belinda's daughter, not me. The prophecy is about Sylvester's line... about humans. I'm no damn human. I'm a dwarf."
"If I hadn't been told..." Rabid sounded as upset as Ishtar. "I've wondered about... that since I met you, and Feldspar... god-bitten... well... I wish I'd know, I mean, wish I knew..." He paused, and, with a visible effort, calmed himself. "You're far more convincing as Belinda's daughter than Feldspar is. And you're telekinetic like Bel... like your mother."
What was with Rabid? Was Terra getting to him? It was affecting them all--was it changing them--or showing them all for what they were? Who was she? And who was Ishtar? They had to know.
"You're a vampire," Feldspar said, thinking aloud and listening to herself, "like her--she's nominal and you're stronger, but still... you're a blonde. I'm not. Your skin colour is right too. And you've got her temper and I don't. Sian's right, I'm not Belinda's daughter." Which meant..."I'm also not the Prophesied, you are." She wasn't Belinda's daughter!
"Don't need to sound so damn happy about it. Besides, who the father is, is always an open question, but..."
"Square's your father." Feldspar was sure of that. But Belinda was Ishtar's mother, not hers!
"As I was going to say..." Ishtar glared at Feldspar. "If I may... without being interrupted."
"Sorry."
"Damn unlikely you're sorry about anything--whoever you are. Anyway, given biology, how can who anyone's mother is, be a damn question? It's not like we're hatched from eggs."
Sian moved in front of Ishtar. "It's exactly like we're hatched from eggs. The eggs happen to be inside the body, rather than out, that's all. If Diluvian science is as advanced as I think, taking and transplanting one would be a simple matter."
"Yeah, could be... I suppose... but without anyone knowing? Yeah, I suppose..." Ishtar obviously didn't like the idea. "But who..."
"Can we continue this at my place?" Sian asked. "I'd like to get you all out of sight before one of my colleagues comes along and arrests us all."
"For what?" Ishtar asked.
"Counterfeiting and fraud--regarding money, not identities... leaving the scene of an accident...?"
"No one was hurt, thanks to Ishtar." Feldspar smiled at her friend. "She was the only one there who could prevent a disaster, and she did."
"So that one wouldn't stick--they could still take us in."
"Damn inequitable justice system you have here." Ishtar wasn't meeting anyone's eyes.
"Or maybe one of Belinda's wolves could manage to sniff us out?"
"Doesn't work like that. You don't understand a damn thing about werewolves."
"I won't argue that." Sian took Ishtar by the arm. Brave woman to touch her, in this mood. "Can we go?" she asked again. "And, all that aside, as I understand it you didn't come to Earth, Terra as you call it, to find out who your parents are. You're on a quest to recover the Adornments of Glory. Maybe you should concentrate on that."
Maybe they should, but Feldspar couldn't, not for the moment. Or on any danger they might be in. She wasn't the Prophesied. And Belinda wasn't her mother... her entire life was a lie. Whose lie? And why? And as Ishtar had asked, who was she? She was Feldspar, of course, nothing could change that, but she wasn't the Feldspar she'd always thought herself to be. She was some other Feldspar, one who didn't have foretellings ruling her life. As Rabid said... and what was the matter with him? As he'd said, once you looked at the matter, once you looked at her, then Ishtar and then Belinda... it was clear. Ishtar was Belinda's daughter, Belinda's fifth child. Ishtar was the Prophesied.
Ishtar stood at the door of Sian's apartment. She didn't want to go in. The place smelled of sex, and the main room was already crowded. "Isn't this damn small for six of us?" Which brought up another point. "Feldspar? Isn't a quest party supposed to be five?"
Feldspar smiled at her. "Calm down, soul-sister. Belinda's got seven or eight."
"Get that damn pity out of your voice or you'll be choking on your teeth... soul-sister. And we're not rule-breakers like her."
"It's not pity--it's concern. Being the Prophesied isn't easy. Remember, I've got experience. And as far as party size goes, the rules are flexible; allies can attach themselves--it's allowed."
Damn, she was right. Of course she was. "I know. Besides, if it's a problem, I guess we can think of Roger and Sian as one." She took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. "Congratulations--not many of us ever find our opposite self. The gods' blessing on you both."
Sian lifted an eyebrow. "I'm still surprised. I thought you'd feel hurt."
"Compared to learning I'm the bitch's get, losing the prospect of a night or three with Roger is minor. Besides, the world's full of pricks--right, Feldspar? Not that you'd necessarily give a shit about that. Sorry, that was cheap." Another deep breath. "Sian was right. We're here to get the Adornments. Let's deal with that, for now."
"Good. Let's. First things first. We need to clear the charges against Roger," Sian said. "Where are the rest of the counterfeit bills?"
"Back at that damn hotel. I left them in a drawer under the phone."
"I'll tell the Chief that." Sian took out her cell phone. "It should buy Roger a little more time."
Susan cleared her throat. "Hold off for a moment. Ishtar, didn't you tell us you figured Spinecracker gave you the stuff in the first place? I wonder whether his fingerprints might still be on it?"
"That would be nice." Sian said, a grin appearing on her face. "Hi, Chief..." She wandered into the kitchen, out of hearing range.
"Okay, the Adornments..." Keep your damn focus, for now. "We need to find Delarone before Belinda and her bunch do."
"You think he's betraying her--intending to keep them for himself?" Roger asked.
"Not sure. Doesn't matter. The bitch being the bitch, she'll kill him either way. Probably Spinecracker too--hope I get to him first. Maybe all the others as well... who cares?"
"Could you explain that to me?" Susan asked Feldspar.
"I don't need a damn interpreter." Deep breath... deep breath. "Sorry. Belinda won't want anyone around who could tell tales."
"And they all would know all about her secret life on Terra," Rabid said. "So do we... and anyone who knows that..." Worry filled his voice.
"I expected better from you," Ishtar answered with a sigh. "That's minor. She also won't want anyone around who could say she interfered with a sanctioned quest."
"By killing the quest party," Feldspar added. "Or at least, trying to. So it's her or us. Either of you Terran types want out?"
"Have any of you Diluvian types shown that picture of Delarone to Sian?" Susan retorted. "Maybe she'll recognize him."
"Damn, sometimes I'm real stupid..." Ishtar fumbled in her pack for the com-reader. These Terran clothes were sexy, but hardly practical... found it. She accessed the picture. "Maybe we'll get lucky this time."
"I bet Sian will know," Roger said.
"I'll know what? Did I hear my name?" Sian came out of
the kitchen and took the reader. "Delbert Throne of Crimson Throne Holdings... couldn't you have picked someone easy to get near to, like the Pope or the American President?" She looked at Susan. "Think you can take the explanations from there? I've got to get Roger back to the station pronto."
"They're going to lock him up?" Susan asked.
Sian shook her head. "They need him there to release him, to do the paperwork... Linda Bedarova graciously admitted she must have mistakenly put prop cash from one of her old movies into her purse, then given it to him. She got everyone to agree that no one could possibly be stupid enough to actually think the stuff is real."
"The shopkeeper took it." Roger sounded defensive.
"She's making an excuse, Roger. For some reason, she doesn't want you, or any of the party in jail."
"Be harder to kill us there, I expect," Feldspar said.
Ishtar nodded. That sounded right. "But it should be safe for you and Roger to go, Sian."
Almost at the door, Sian froze. "I'd forgotten it might not be. You're sure?"
What a stupid question. "No."
Sian nodded. "Fair enough. Thanks for the reminder."
* * * * *
Delbert Throne was Noronto's favourite rumour. Susan felt faintly surprised Sian recognised his picture. Few people would. She hadn't. Pictures of Throne were forbidden and she could well understand why--the man was actively ugly.
A recluse with clout, Throne controlled or influenced the city's economy in ways Susan didn't understand... or didn't want to. His wasn't an intrusive presence, however, and those who crossed him ended up with broken bank accounts rather than shattered kneecaps. He lived in Crimson Tower in the penthouse... or in a deep sub-basement... or somewhere else... the story varied.
What didn't vary was that the only sure route to him led through Hilda Weller, his partner. She was a keen financial analyst who doubled as a talent scout for Crimson Throne Productions, the entertainment wing of the company. Undoubtedly, she took that role for the personal benefits of the casting couch. It was notoriously well visited, but few who frequented it found stardom. The occasional person did, however; it happened just often enough to ensure talent of the earthy sort continued to flow in Weller's direction.
The Diluvians sat fascinated as Susan explained Delbert Throne and his empire. She noted a few meaningful looks being exchanged, particularly when she got started on Hilda Weller. She decided to wrap her story up. "Actually, Weller's well liked. She contributes a good bit of Throne's net profits and most of her personal wealth to charity. It's said you really have to work to become her enemy, and that it's not worth the effort--the few who've achieved that status have been crushed. I gather you know of her? That she's Diluvian?"
"Has to be," Rabid answered. He shifted closer to her on the couch and put a hand on her thigh. She let it stay although it didn't do much for her. As Feldspar wasn't available, she might still give Rabid another night although she wasn't impressed by his recent behaviour. "Everyone on Diluvia wondered what happened to her. Once upon a time, she and I were well acquainted."
"Damn... you're that old?" Ishtar's voice dripped sarcasm.
"Sounds like you're beginning to recover from your shock," Rabid said.
Ishtar shrugged. "Decided I'm still me, even if the bitch is my dam--still not sure I believe that."
"Do... and it only was two hundred years ago Hilldweller disappeared, which still makes me a young elf."
"Middle-aged," Ishtar answered. She turned her attention to Susan. "To fill you in from our end, to someone of my tender years, Hilldweller is a legend. She's an oracle, sort of a higher grade, more developed version of our friend, Sian. At one time, Hilldweller contended with Planetsinger for the role of Great Mother. Hilldweller backed out and disappeared--saying the role needed someone with a viciousness she didn't possess."
Ishtar smiled as she moved her eyes to Feldspar. "The other point of interest--to some of us--is that Hilldweller is Skythane's mother--Skythane being Feldspar's drop-dead blonde boyfriend, and her most recent impersonation."
"So Hilldweller would be our ally," Susan said. And Ishtar didn't like Skythane, didn't think him good enough for her friend.
Feldspar shook her head. "She wouldn't be our enemy--at least, from what Skythane's said of her, that's as far as it would go. She's detached... almost a mystic. If she deems us to be walking near the path of perfect glow, she might nudge us in the proper direction. If she sees us as too far from it, she would push us over the cliff of instructive experience."
"Is that sarcasm?" Susan couldn't tell from Feldspar's tone of voice.
Next to her, Rabid chuckled. "I'd say it's the expression of a different reality." Now that was sarcasm. Whatever his problem had been, he seemed to have recovered. "Hilldweller isn't quite of this world, or any other known to mortals. For all that, bedding her is a mind-altering experience. One night with her and the world will look different. A week, and you won't recognise it as the same place."
Ishtar asked the question most immediately on Susan's mind. "And you were with her how long?"
"Several years."
Ishtar nodded. "And here I thought you were just a hedonist--out for what you could get--but you're not... you're really a saint in sinner's clothing, just like your precious Hilldweller."
"I'm afraid I'm just a sinner in sinner's clothing," Rabid said in a quiet voice. "I'm..." He shook his head. His eyes met Feldspar's. "Help?"
Feldspar put a hand on Ishtar's arm. "Calm down, soul-sister. People are what they are. Bitterness won't further our quest."
"Piss off. There's good and there's evil... and then there's bullshit. Bullshit is the only thing that isn't one or the other." She stared at Rabid. "I'm going to find out the truth, elf boy. You can count on it."
Rabid squirmed in closer to Susan on the couch, like he expected her to protect him. If he'd recovered, Ishtar had just pushed him back over the edge. Susan assumed she had her reasons.
* * * * *
Despite Sian's assurances he was going to be released, Roger expected a trick. At best, the police would let him go so they could arrest him again. At worst, he would be taken to a windowless cell and worked over with rubber truncheons. Sian didn't have the clout to protect him. She was only a lieutenant, a nominal one at that--out of the chain of command and only granted the rank to get her on the payroll. He wanted to run. Sian seemed to sense that--her grip on his hand went far beyond affection. Might as well be wearing the handcuffs again.
"Sian? You're sure the charges are being dropped?"
"For the umpteenth time... yes! You don't trust me." Anguish resounded in her voice. "Grams, he doesn't trust me."
He loved her, and she was great in bed, the best... but she was insane. This wasn't going to work. An arranged marriage? Arranged by his deceased grandmother, and hers? How in the world had she sold him on that fiction? Smouldering dark eyes in a rosy face explained a great deal. And after chaining him to her bed for the night and leaving him alone, her forthright come-on in the morning predictably swept him off his feet. And he was a man, and men didn't say 'no.' He should have... he'd been her captive and at her mercy.
"Sian, have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?"
She sighed and slowed to a stop. "You're so young." She let his hand go. "And you can be such an asshole." She looked at someone who wasn't beside him. "Annwyl, your grandson has a lot of growing up to do and I'm beginning to doubt I have the patience to raise him. No, no complaints there, but that's not everything." Another sigh. "You may be right... I'm just tired, but still... is it possible you and Grams made a mistake? Okay, I'll answer him politely... this time." Her dark eyes moved from beside him to meet his. "Yes, Roger, I have heard of Stockholm Syndrome. Classically, it requires several days in a hostage situation where life and death are at stake."
"People have died while being held by the Noronto police force."
Sian nodded. "Suicides. Want to borrow my gun?"
It was his t
urn to talk. And she probably was right. From her hands-on-swivel-hips stance, she expected him to say so, or else. "Sorry. I'm tired too, and I suppose I am being foolish."
"Apology accepted. And by the way, I don't carry a gun. Can we get going now?"
"In a moment. Don't our grandmothers have anything better to do than follow us around?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'd hate to think their lives on the other side--or whatever you call it--are that empty. Last night you convinced me you can talk to my grandmother. Right now I'm not so sure she's standing beside me."
Sian's usually rosy cheeks flushed a deeper red. "Caught me. How did you know?"
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