Adornments of Glory Page 11

  Susan told them the magic phrase on Terra was "charge it", or in their case "charge it to our room". Shopping with Feldspar, even if she did look like Belinda, was more enjoyable than Ishtar had expected. They tried on dozens of outfits, kept ten or so, and attracted a great deal of attention. Susan needed to call in half a dozen other people to keep the crowds in check. Everyone wanted to see Linda Bedarova.

  It was as if one of the Five Gods had manifested on Diluvia. Ishtar couldn't find any other comparison. Belinda was nigh on worshipped on Terra. Why the bitch had chosen to lead a double life was becoming obvious. And Ishtar could admit, to herself, that the camaraderie between Feldspar and herself was only part of what she was enjoying. All those eyes gave her a charge; they energised her like she was a vampire. That talent didn't run in her family, as far as she knew. It did in Feldspar's. Feldspar's ancestor five generations back, Sylvester the Great, Monarch and recipient of the deathbed foretelling that had made her friend the Prophesied--Sylvester had been a nominal vampire. Adored by all, even that minor talent had kept him alive to well over two hundred. But these things didn't always pass by blood.

  Ishtar looked out the store window at the onlookers. Roger? That was Roger. They'd been supposed to meet him and had been so caught up in what they were doing, they'd forgotten. She gave him a warm smile of apology... at least that's the way she meant it; she felt a sudden glow fill her as their eyes met. His smile was hers, reflected back at her as lust, adoration... and more. Worship, yes it was worship and not just from Roger but from a dozen people around him. This could become an addiction. Yeah, she was a vamp, no doubt about it. She wouldn't tell Feldspar, no way, but like Daddy Square'd said, Belinda must be one too. It explained a lot about the woman.

  "Susan?" Ishtar tapped the wide-sea woman's arm. "Susan, that's Roger at the window. He's with us."

  "The pretty boy? I've seen him around. The maitre de and half the waiters in the main dining room have the hots for him. What I hear is the poor guy is way too straight to notice. Not a problem I have." Susan glanced over at Feldspar, Belinda to her, and smiled. "I don't discriminate. You can pass that on, if you want."

  "Really?" Humans and elves were perverts, all of them. Every dwarf knew that. But what every dwarf knew wasn't necessarily the case on Terra. Probably not on Diluvia either, although now wasn't the time to ponder that sort of thing.

  Susan laughed. "I gather you don't swing that way yourself. I'll go collect your friend. He can hang around and be bored with Rabid." Rabid had lost interest in shopping after the first two or three outfits.

  Feldspar came out of the change rooms, again, wearing a wisp of white nothing. Ishtar smiled at her. "Nice dress, Mom, what there is of it. Doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?"

  "Look who's talking."

  "These Terran stretch fabrics are great. In a fight, no one could grab a handful."

  "And everyone gets an eyeful."

  "That's the idea. Smile for the cameras, Mom."

  "Don't over use the word. Or else practice... you're not saying it like you believe it's true."

  Feldspar, as damn Belinda, had insisted Susan dine with them so their table in the hotel's rooftop restaurant was for five. All eyes were on them as they entered. Alert to the possibility, Ishtar felt the attention flow into her, swelling her aura. Feldspar, in her Belinda persona, wore the filmy white creation. Belinda wouldn't have dared appear in public on Diluvia in that--people would have snickered behind their hands. Ishtar's own skin-tight outfit was similar to her normal forest leathers, but fit even more snugly. She always got her share of looks even when Feldspar was around, but this was different. And it felt great.

  Feldspar moved to beside her. "Your aura seems to be growing stronger by the second. Decided you're a vampire?" Her smile admitted the possibility.

  "Figure I must be. Never thought of it before--after all, you're the one who's supposed to have all the talent. Let's test it." Ishtar concentrated on spreading out her aura to collect and pull in the attention being directed her way. A flush spread through her body. "Oh yeah... I am. Cool."

  "You okay?" Roger looked concerned.

  "Great, thanks."

  "She just discovered she's a vampire."

  "She is?" Roger shrank back.

  "Don't worry, I'm not going to drink your blood." As with most things, Terrans had odd ideas about vampires--not that vampires couldn't be deadly--they certainly could--but as for them fearing crosses, shunning sunlight, sleeping in coffins... what nonsense.

  Feldspar moved between them. "We'll talk about this later."

  "I suppose we will." Did Feldspar share the Terran anti-vampire prejudice? Unlikely. Then what was bothering the girl? It wasn't worth worrying about, whatever it was. Ishtar gathered in another dose of appreciation. It felt great; this could be addictive.

  While her newfound talent would take some getting used to, Ishtar knew she would. Terran cuisine was entirely another matter. The menu featured beef which was, along with petroleum power, Terra's most self-destructive affliction. Someone was going to have to teach them to change before they destroyed their planet. Of course, the Diluvian "make Terra start over" movement held it was too late, and the only sensible thing to do was recycle the planet's not-so-sentient population and give the place a few centuries to heal. But changing their attitudes to the private automobile and steaks might still do the trick.

  The maitre de hovered after seating them. "If I remember what I've read about you, Ms. Bedarova, you'll want the wine steward immediately. And I daren't recommend the prime rib." Feldspar looked uncomfortable. What was the matter with her now? Oh right, Belinda was a lush, but Feldspar didn't drink.

  "My dear mother is on the wagon. All those calories were playing havoc with her figure. You know, at her age...." Ishtar let the remark trail off. Feldspar looked grateful for the rescue, sort of. She couldn't take it well and stay in character... Belinda would be furious.

  "My daughter was lucky enough to inherit her father's peasant build. When you're dumpy, a few pounds extra don't matter."

  Dumpy? Full-figured, buxom or zaftig would have been fine, but "dumpy"? Then again, Feldspar was playing at being Belinda, and the girl didn't have a deep vocabulary. "Dumpy" might be the best she could do. But how had the word "peasant" got into her mouth? It was a pejorative Terran term not used on Diluvia. Whatever--it was her turn for a verbal swing.

  "Too bad you didn't give up booze earlier, Mom. Then we'd know which of those guys on the football team actually fathered me." She looked at the maitre de and spoke to the room. "I was conceived one fine evening when my dear drunken mother spread for both starting elevens."

  Hah! Feldspar didn't have an answer for that, did she? Rabid was going to speak up? What could he possibly say?

  "Ladies." His hand felt good on hers. "This is supposed to be a reconciliation. I know you really do love each other."

  Ishtar smiled... at him, the maitre de and the room. "You're ever so right. We should keep the skeletons in the closet. I mean, what good does it do now?"

  It wasn't a surrender, just a strategic retreat. Rabid was right. It was time to drop the open rivalry... for the moment. After all, they were on Terra to find the Adornments of Glory, not destroy Belinda. Still, the venom was important to their quest, not to mention fun. No one would believe Feldspar to be Belinda if she were the least bit pleasant. And any daughter of Belinda's would be certain to be a shrew. Except Feldspar wasn't obnoxious, at least not on purpose... that might deserve some thought. Feldspar shouldn't be Belinda's daughter, just shouldn't.

  Fortunately, Roger and Susan seemed to pick up on the Diluvian aversion to beef and everyone at the table ordered grilled trout. Ishtar found hers flabby and tasteless. From their faces, Feldspar and Rabid thought the same, but it wasn't bad enough to make a fuss about and you had to make allowances. With all the people on the planet, it was a wonder Terra could feed itself at all, let alone well.

  They were considering dessert
when a pudgy woman with unruly black curls came over to their table. "Linda, my darling, how perfectly lovely to see you again."

  Feldspar glanced at her, then looked away.

  Roger leapt to his feet. "Ms. Albright, I loved your latest book. It was brilliant."

  Okay, that gave them a last name and told them the woman was an author, well known enough for Roger to recognise. Could she be in league with Belinda? Power radiated from the woman. She had a developed mind-science talent. Wouldn't do to probe too deeply as to what, not here... the woman might sense it.

  Feldspar seemed at a loss for words, again, so it was up to her. "Ms. Albright, my mother's told me so much about you."

  "Oh, do call me Maxine."

  Force a smile. "Thank you, Maxine, I'd be honoured."

  Feldspar looked up again. "What do you want?"

  "You've changed your mind about doing the movie?"

  "Well, I'm certainly not going to make it before we finish eating."

  And she'd thought Feldspar couldn't play Belinda. The reaction from Maxine Albright was delightful. From puffed up, she'd gone straight to deflated. Roger seemed to be enjoying the sight, as were most of the diners within earshot. The woman might be well known, but "popular" must be a word reserved for her writing.

  Maxine Albright shuffled back a few inches. "Can I call you later?"

  "If you wish. Waiter, I'll have the fruit salad. Ishtar?" Albright slunk away to suppressed snickers from the room.

  "Fruit salad? Sounds good." It didn't, but at least it wasn't made with cow's milk. Ishtar glanced at Roger. "What's a Maxine Albright?"

  Susan answered. "One of the leading literary lights of Canadian culture."

  It sounded like a quotation. "How nice for her."

  "And a powerful woman."

  Yes, she was... in more than one way. She was influential, and she was an adept. Not many Terrans studied mind-science. Belinda could have taught her, helped her develop... so maybe Maxine Albright was in on the theft of the Adornments of Glory. And even if she wasn't, she might know someone who was.

  * * * * *

  Some days he couldn't see the obvious, or so many women told him--generally after a first-and-last date. The improbable didn't give him much trouble though. Linda Bedarova was Feldspar or Feldspar was Linda Bedarova--he wasn't sure which way that went, or if this was something new or always was so--but today they were the same person. It helped that Bedarova never did much for him, even in her steamier movies and that next to Ishtar--what a babe--Bedarova seemed an anorexic hag, but still... the way this Bedarova talked to Ishtar, joked and swapped insults... for him, that gave it away.

  Things couldn't get much better. Here he was, escorting Ishtar back to a suite in the Westshire, in the public eye because of Feldspar-cum-Linda and her daughter, Ishtar. A beautiful woman on his arm and all the publicity his acting career desperately needed, everything going his way near the end of a day that had started like any other. What's more, Ishtar's put-downs of Maxine Albright were exactly what the old establishment battle-axe deserved. Her latest book sucked and everyone but those whose careers Albright could damage, said so. Yes, life was indeed, good.

  "You can stay for a while?" Ishtar asked him as she opened the door.

  "Of course."

  "Good, we need to make plans." She smiled at Susan Milano. "Thanks for all your help." A clear dismissal.

  "You're welcome." Susan pulled the door closed, with her on the inside. "Now, I'd like to know what's going on, and how Feldspar manages to look exactly like Bedarova."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Oh, please, don't try and play innocent--it isn't you, Ishtar. Not only isn't this Linda Bedarova, she doesn't know much about her--quick, what was your first starring role?"

  Roger broke the brief silence. "I suppose it depends on what you mean by 'starring'. She was in 'The Big Texas Spread' before 'Lie and Deliver', but was she the star?"

  "Hardly." Susan came up to him. He'd always thought of Chinese women as being tiny and delicate--Susan wasn't either. She came up to his shoulder and, judging from her muscular arms, probably could pick him up and throw him through the window. From her eyes, she felt tempted. "And I'll thank you to shut your yap."

  "Hey, no damn wide-sea bitch talks to my boyfriend like that." Ishtar grabbed Susan's shoulder.

  "Hands off, girlie."

  "Yeah, or what?"

  "That's enough." Linda Bedarova pushed herself between the two other women... and became Feldspar.

  Roger looked for a place to sit. Susan seemed to be having the same problem. Knowing was one thing, seeing Feldspar change, another.

  "The shock treatment will work once and once only, I suspect." Rabid's grin couldn't get wider without splitting his face. He went to Susan, took her hand and kissed it. "Welcome to the quest for The Adornments of Glory. Forgive Ishtar--she's just protecting her interests."

  "I don't need protecting," Roger said. Her interests? The slight tremble in his body from Feldspar's change of person became a bone-rattling quake. Ishtar scared him... too much, too soon.

  "Calm down," Ishtar caught both his shaky hands with ease. "After the quest, assuming we're both alive we may get to see if you measure up. Until then it's all theoretical and speculative... and damn right you need protecting. Wanna arm wrestle?"

  "Soothing words if ever I heard them. You're such a dwarf, Ishtar." As Ishtar let go of Roger's hands to take a swing, Rabid teleported two feet back.

  That's when Susan fainted.

  If this were real, it would be one of the most embarrassing moments in her life. Had to cut back on the fantasy and science fiction: elves, dwarves and magicians from another world--on a quest. Right... all this story needed was Santa Claus or a Martian. She'd fallen asleep on her couch and the quiet voices she could hear were either her TV or part of the dream. No point opening her eyes.

  Except she knew better and knew what she'd seen. Maybe they'd go away and she could sneak out. But no, fainting undoubtedly was embarrassing, but they'd understand, she hoped. She very much wanted them to keep liking her--Feldspar was exquisite, and interested. That caressing contralto sent shivers through the body. And if you dabbled with men, once you got past the hair, that Rabid creature was a stud. Overall, men were less fun but less hassle--like her they seldom were into commitment. Okay, might as well see if she was still welcome. She opened her eyes, sat and swung her feet to the floor.

  Four heads turned to her. "How long was I out?" Long enough for Feldspar to have a shower. She was in a hotel bathrobe, dark hair glistening, lovely legs bare to the thigh.

  "Half an hour. You're okay?" The concern in Feldspar's voice pushed desire to full ooze.

  "Fine." Her voice caught in a gasp. "Just fine, thanks...."

  "Mind if I give you a quick check?" Feldspar stood. "I'm a healer, of sorts."

  "I'm better." Rabid bounded to his feet, cut Feldspar off and rushed to her. Green eyes, a lighter green than the hair and level with hers, staring deep into her. The tingle spread through her body. She wanted to dabble... now.

  "I'm fine."

  "And elegant, and wonderfully fit, and..."

  "By the Unknown, elf, give the woman time to recover before you try to screw her. Damn hormonal freak."

  "Jealous?" Rabid asked.

  "Damn right--in principle. Now leave her alone, come back over here, and sit." Rabid retreated as Ishtar came over. "Sorry about earlier," Ishtar continued. "We're on edge--new world and all--strange place, Terra." She grinned. "I think I like it. Back home I'm a bit of a freak. I'm kind of tall and skinny for a dwarf."

  "You are a dwarf?" Susan held up a hand to signal 'stop', then realised where Ishtar came from that gesture might mean something different. "No offence intended. I don't want to fight you."

  "Too bad. I love a good tussle--that way I'm very much a dwarf. And green boy's an elf and Feldspar's only human, except she's the Prophesied. Roger explained why you freaked--from the reading I've done I
kind of thought Terrans knew all about the other sentient races."

  "Well, I knew better." Rabid didn't sound at all happy. "And about shutting up and sitting down... why don't you?"

  "Damn elves. I especially hate them when they're right." With a final smile for Susan, Ishtar went back to where she'd been before.

  Susan approached the group. The only spot available was on a loveseat, beside Feldspar, beside all that glorious damp and shining skin. "May I?"

  "Not until the quest is over," Ishtar said. "She's taken a vow to keep her legs closed. Suckered me into it as well, damn her. Rabid, you switch seats with Feldspar."

  A vow? Of celibacy? Right out of a bad novel, but from Feldspar's face it was true. With a cheerless smile, Feldspar stood. "I thought I was in charge here."