Adornments of Glory Page 6

  Grunt stood and moved to block the bottom of the stairs. It was up to her to snag the little green-haired exhibitionist for the quest party. Feldspar wouldn't be forceful enough and Grunt didn't anticipate that being drafted would thrill Moonreaver.

  "If you've changed your mind I'd like breakfast first," Moonreaver said, stopping two steps up.

  Grunt's eyes were level with the well-filled fork in his breeches. Damn elf had stopped there on purpose. She stepped back. "I don't suppose you're going to run."

  "From Diluvia's most beauteous damsel? That would destroy my reputation." He came a little too close, forcing Grunt to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

  No debauched elf could unsettle her. She was his match in all ways, and more. "Rabid Green Rabbit, in the name of Diluvia and the Five Gods I hereby bind you to our quest, until death or successful completion." For an oath created on the spur of the moment it didn't sound half bad. Damn, had her legs gone rubbery or was that what she feared it might be? Yeah, it was. The glasses behind the bar set up a tinkling clatter as the world shook. One of the patrons screamed. The sun that had been streaming through the windows cut off as if someone had hung a curtain over the building. To compensate, the unkindled wood in the fireplace burst into brilliant flame.

  "I accept and please, just call me Rabid." In an instant the world returned to normal, although the fire kept burning. "The offer of an adventure in the company of Diluvia's two most acclaimed beauties would have been sufficient," Rabid continued. "Punctuating the request with that display of mind-science was entirely unnecessary."

  "Don't talk to me about it," Grunt said. "I'm only a minor telekinetic. That display would have required an high-power adept."

  "Or a god."

  "I'd rather not consider that. I rather suspect Planetsinger."

  "From the perspective of one as limited as myself, the difference between the Great Mother and a god is somewhat nebulous." Rabid looked around as if expecting the cosmos to reply to his statement. It didn't. "If sex is out of the question may I at least break my fast before we venture onward to our fate?"

  Grunt waited a moment. The world remained quiescent. "Suppose so."

  Grunt treated herself to another bowl of gruel while Rabid ate. She kept her eyes on the staircase but Rabid's companions of the previous night didn't appear.

  "Damn thorough job you did on Belinda's moles, elf boy."

  Rabid spewed gruel over the table in front of him. "Belinda?" he gasped. "You said 'Belinda?'"

  "Does my ex-mother have moles? I hadn't noticed," Feldspar said with perfect innocence. "Where? Not on her darling face."

  "If you don't quit playing stupid, I'll slug you."

  "Try, soul-sister, just you try."

  "To tell the truth, those women liked each other better than they liked me," Rabid said, after he wiped his face. It sounded like a lie to Grunt, but she decided to let it go.

  "Thought they looked dim. Good thing for them they were so obvious. If they'd joined and I'd found out afterward, I'd've throttled the bitches."

  Rabid glanced over his shoulder at the stairs. "Maybe we should get going then, just in case."

  The party headed into the forest with Feldspar in the lead. They had all the quest party they were going to get on Diluvia, so it was time to see Planetsinger again and get on their way. Uncharacteristically, Feldspar wasn't the least bit chatty and when they came to branches in the trail, chose their route without consultation. Practising at being a leader? Fine, but they weren't getting anywhere.

  An hour or so later Grunt decided she'd had enough. The forest was sending them in circles, the silence was oppressive and she found herself continuously sneaking glances at what Rabid had dangling on offer and she couldn't have until the quest was over. That he clearly preferred her to Feldspar was gratifying in its own way but it wasn't the sort of satisfaction Grunt cared to maintain longer than it took to strip.

  "Do you have any damn idea where you're going, Feldspar?"

  "If you think you can do better, be my guest." Feldspar stepped backwards off the track and waited for Grunt to pass.

  In that she couldn't eye the temptation of Rabid's breeches, leading was an improvement, but some time later Grunt had to admit, to herself at any rate, that the forest was being particularly contrary. Or so it seemed. When she'd been younger sometimes she hadn't been able to get to Feldspar's shrine when she wanted to, but over the years had learned that the paths were always the same and only the pattern of illusions changed. Some days you had to take a trail that didn't appear to exist in order to get to your destination. In this unfamiliar part of the forest, she didn't know the deeper truths.

  Maybe Planetsinger was otherwise occupied and didn't want them to arrive at the shrine before she was ready. Perhaps it went even higher than that. This quest was cursedly god-ridden but as Rabid had said, to the unenlightened Planetsinger and a god were very much the same. At times Grunt forgot that. She'd grown up with the Great Mother very much present in her life and considered Diluvia's most powerful adept both friend and mentor. Still, Planetsinger was what she was, and today it seemed she was in no hurry to have guests.

  "Might as well stop here for lunch," Grunt said. They had reached a small meadow and the sun was overhead. "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier, Feldspar."

  "It's okay. I know it was about yesterday. Honestly Grunt, I didn't mean to drag you in to my vow. I didn't intend to make it for myself either. It was an idle thought. I'll know better than to voice those in the future."

  "Or at least until this quest is over and the damn deities get off our backs," Grunt said.

  "Vow?" It was the first word Rabid had spoken since leaving the inn.

  "Didn't we mention we're sworn to celibacy until the quest is over?"

  "How inclusive is the word 'we'?" Rabid asked.

  Grunt forced a smile onto her face. "As far as I know I'm the only one Feldspar dragged into that folly. Okay okay, I won't bring it up again, Feldspar."

  "You'll both bring it up," Rabid said. "Frequently. Believe me."

  Grunt was fully aware of that. Fully.

  * * * * *

  Half an hour after lunch they arrived at the shrine. Planetsinger showed up a few minutes later, gradually fading in as she had before. Grunt had no doubt that was pure affectation; the Great Mother did it for effect, not because it was how that talent of hers worked. Feldspar seemed to think Planetsinger was an avatar, a selfless deity incarnate. As a student of history, Grunt didn't think deities were particularly selfless, especially ones that showed up rearranging their garb in the way one did after a bout of unplanned lovemaking. And the smile on Planetsinger's face was more post-coital than beatific. Another damn manipulative politico, that's all the Great Mother was.

  "You see much that doesn't exist, Grunt." With her not yet fully corporal, Planetsinger's voice was airy. "We were playing backgammon for high stakes, nothing more." She reached back into nothing and pulled the self-styled Shimmerscribe into the meadow.

  An unlikely story. The Great Mother cared even less about money than most Diluvians. What could the Terran writer wager that would interest Planetsinger?

  "The fates of worlds hang on every throw of the dice, child," Planetsinger said. "You should feel glad I took time to play, and that I won. Terran writers are cruel."

  "You cheat, Planetsinger," Shimmerscribe said.

  Rabid laughed. "And Einstein was wrong. Gods do too play dice."

  Grunt had been about to object once again to Planetsinger's intrusive mind reading. Instead she turned to Rabid. "Have you ever been to Terra?"

  "That's one of the questions you should have asked him prior to this, my child, but as far as I know, he hasn't."

  "You know all, oh Great Mother." Rabid bowed deeply.

  "And as for you, bottom feeder, I don't need your sarcasm," Planetsinger said.

  "But she does," Rabid said to Grunt. "She needs reminders she's mortal, and that mortal rules do apply to her as to us.
And no, I haven't been to Terra, but like you, I can and do read."

  "And he's had a few more years to do so than you," Planetsinger said, eyes fixed on Rabid in a glare. "You'd be surprised what he knows." She shook her head as if to clear all thoughts of Rabid from it. "Now, down to business. As we said before, with the exception of the fairy… Twink? Where are you?" A glowing ball of light appeared by Planetsinger's head… okay, that was impressive. Fairies followed their own whims. They didn't come when called.

  Planetsinger smiled at her. "I'm glad something can overawe you, Grunt."

  Damn mind reader.

  "As I was saying," Planetsinger continued, "other than for Twink, any advice or assistance Adepts Five gives you is as likely to be intended to thwart the stated purpose of the quest as it is to help it."

  "I can't believe that of Square," Feldspar said.

  "I can," Grunt said. "My sire and your damn dam are peas in a pod. Belinda's just more honest."

  Feldspar shook her head. "I don't agree. Square's essentially good, just overly influenced by her… which is probably why she's stayed with him all this time. And as we grew up, she developed a true dislike of you... gods know why."

  "Grunt's a better looking blonde and in her territory," Rabid said. "That certainly would do it."

  Shimmerscribe cleared his throat. Grunt was pleased to see he'd traded in his pen and paper for an eternal e-scroll. Maybe the old polluter wasn't as bad as she'd thought. He couldn't help being Terran. "Perhaps we should get down to business now," he said.

  Then again maybe he was every bit as bad. "And why do we trust him?" Grunt asked Planetsinger. "As you said, he's a writer. And, as you also said, writers are cruel, particularly at the beginning of a quest. They do any ridiculous thing they can think of to screw people up. Reality's enough of a bitch without a writer around to make it worse."

  Rabid took a step forward. "With respect, great lady, I agree with my buxom colleague. My reading would lead me to the same conclusion. If he stays, I go."

  "That might be for the best," Planetsinger said, raising a hand as if to flick Rabid from the scene.

  "They're right," Feldspar said. "And I've chosen Rabid for the quest."

  "Oh, very well. I hope you live to regret your choice in this life." Planetsinger wheeled and completed her hand gesture while facing Shimmerscribe. The human vanished immediately. "There. Happy?"

  "Never," Grunt answered. "But gratified his bad advice won't further complicate our fate. Can Twink take us to Adepts Five now, Planetsinger?"

  "Very well. You go with my blessings even if you do eschew my assistance." Planetsinger started to fade. Before she could fully disappear, the shrine and meadow vanished instead.

  Flashes of pin-wheeling rainbows and a somersaulting stomach--then normal existence resumed, assuming any existence was normal. Grunt found herself standing on the table in the meeting room of the Stone Tower, wedged between Feldspar and Rabid. Twink drifted from in front of them towards the wall. It seemed the other four of Adepts Five had been in the middle of a meeting until the quest party, and the fifth Adept, put themselves on the agenda.

  "You can't do this!" Belinda's voice got shrill when she was excited. Grunt looked down at her. With all due respect, none, how could this shrieking harridan be considered her competition? Okay, she was blonde but there the similarity ended. Belinda had no class and no tits.

  "They just did do that, darling," Square said.

  Square and Belinda were together again? All the more reason to leave and not come back. The woman's voice penetrated even the stone walls of Square's Inn on every faked climax. Grunt felt her leg twitch. Standing here it would be so easy to kick in her ugly face. But, no--violence would solve nothing, however good it might feel. No wonder her mother had left Diluvia on a spaceship as soon as she could. It wasn't anything to do with having birthed a puny child; it was utter humiliation at being cast aside for this scraggly human.

  "I don't blame you for hating me, Grunt," Square said, offering her a hand down from the table. At times her father showed disturbing flashes of insight.

  "But do you hate me for blaming you?" Grunt asked, ignoring his advance and stepping forward. "Oh, I am sorry, Belinda. Was that your finger?" She jumped onto the floor.

  Caltrop doubled over laughing, his top half sinking into the table before he noticed his error and straightened. A top-notch astral projector wouldn't make mistakes on that order. But these Adepts Five were all second-rate, except for the fairy.

  "That's enough, Grunt. We're not here to pick a fight," Feldspar said. She and Rabid joined Grunt on the floor.

  "They picked the fight. I'm just acknowledging it."

  "You're wrong, Grunt." Windrover shook his head. "Why would we strive to hinder a quest to save Diluvia?" A smiling shrug.

  "For petty political reasons? So after we fail, greater glory will fall on those who succeed? Because one or more of you is in league with Delarone? Or is his master?"

  "You'll have to forgive her." Feldspar put a hand on Grunt's arm. "The gods inadvertently joined her into my vow to remain chaste until the Adornments of Glory are safely returned."

  "I move we withdraw our sanction of this quest," Belinda took a half step backwards. "My daughter speaks of the gods' involvement and we all know some of them are malign."

  "Malign? You're a fine one to use that term, bitch. And in case you had forgotten, she's not your daughter any more." Grunt patted the hand Feldspar had put on her shoulder, then removed it. "She divorced you."

  "That's a legal, not a biological matter," Square said with a shrug. "I agree with Belinda, these youngsters are out of control."

  "Damn right we are." Grunt swung from her knees and sent her father flying across the room.

  "We can't withdraw sanction." Caltrop started to step forward, glanced at the table, and stopped. So, he could learn from his mistakes. "Not that I want to. That's not the way it works, Belinda. Once sanction is given, it can't be retracted."

  "Things work the way we say they work, fool."

  "I agree with both of you," Windrover said. Damn politician. He glanced at the hovering fairy. "We could recant, but we shouldn't."

  "You're a true political weasel, former foster uncle," Feldspar said… good for her. "No, I'm not going to hit you, and neither is Grunt."

  "Says who? Well, okay, I won't." As Feldspar well knew but Windrover probably didn't--what a dolt--Grunt had never intended to hit him. Damn elf would have just teleported before she could anyway. Belinda, however, was a different matter.

  "Don't." Rabid put a hand on Grunt's arm.

  "And just who do you think you are to be giving me orders?"

  "Someone who very much wants to be around you when the Adornments are returned to Diluvia." He gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

  "Oh." Grunt's anger turned to mush. She hoped none of it would drip; that would be truly embarrassing. "Okay, then let's get going."

  Windrover took a deep breath and, with a wary glance at Grunt, moved forward. "We've prepared full packages of Terran identification for all three of you, complete with cash and credit cards that draw on Terran accounts. Read over the particulars of your identities and memorise them. Your lives and the future of Diluvia are at stake."

  Damn pontificator… and just how had they known Rabid would be a member of the party? Oh… right… those women at the Harlequin's Head must have reported.

  "Forget it," Feldspar said, an admirable note of contempt in her voice. "We'll make do without. Like Grunt said, at least one of you is a traitor. We can't trust anything you'd supply."

  "I'm ever so glad to hear you say that." Belinda's face twisted into a smile. "It ensures your failure, as if that ever was in doubt. You do realise you're not the Prophesied any more, don't you, my dear ex-daughter? When you renounced your lineage you gave that up. I'll be leading the next party, the one that will succeed. And I somehow doubt we'll have time to rescue you. Then, when we get back, I'll have another child, my fifth, the
true Prophesied."

  "Belinda, you are insane." Grunt didn't bother looking at Belinda. "As my dear unconscious father said, divorce is legal, not biological."

  "And besides, I didn't renounce my lineage, just you," Feldspar said. "You're the misfit, Belinda, not me. Can we leave now, or does someone have something else self-serving to say?" She started towards the door.

  Grunt followed. Windrover stepped in front of her. Should she? She tensed her arm for a swing--she certainly wanted to. But, maybe not… knocking Square cold had been satisfying, but if she hit Windrover with the same sort of force, she could kill him. Didn't want to do that, and didn't want to pull her punches either. The stupid elf was safe. Damn.