Adornments of Glory

by J. Crispin-Ripley

  Grunt's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. "You don't think about much of anything. Of course you look like an elf--always have. You also look ridiculously like yourself, much more so than any of your imitators. Now shut up and eat or, failing that, just shut up."

  Feldspar didn't feel particularly hungry. It wasn't anything to do with the stew. The Harlequin's Head was a good inn, she could see that now and the rabbit in the other pot probably would have been rabbit rather than squirrel or groundhog. But the quest was off to a bad start. Her only companion to date, Grunt, was angry with her and not accepting apologies. And Planetsinger considered it urgent they get underway and instead they were lounging in a human inn. She was the leader and Grunt was the muscle. A guide and a scout could be recruited on Terra. The third member they needed was an elf to be their wizard or in modern terms, adept. The server had said they didn't see many elves in the Harlequin's Head. Had that been a random statement or a sign from above that they should move on elsewhere?

  "Now you're trying too hard to think," Grunt said. "Eat and leave that task for those who do it better."

  "Are you mind reading?"

  "Soul-sister reading. And I apologise for my generally surly behaviour since your return. I felt abandoned when you left Capitol without me. My problem, not yours. Now you're back and I'm taking it out on you. Not too bright."

  "You missed me that much?"

  "Hanging around you is what saves me from being just another drudge."

  "I don't think so." Feldspar set to the stew, waiting for Grunt to tell her once again that she didn't think. There was probably something in that statement. She tended to follow her heart, or perhaps her lower organs. To be fair, when they were being tutored, Grunt had always been the better student, much to the surprise of teachers who expected little from a dwarf and everything from the Prophesied.

  "I understand you're looking for companions."

  Feldspar looked up from her bowl. The speaker was a lanky wide-sea woman with full lips, delicious lips… if you swung that way. Feldspar did, and like most males, Skythane had liked to watch, and join in when he could. This woman's dark eyes held a certain salacious intent Feldspar knew she would have found irresistible if not for the shrine. A small fox-faced redhead beside the wide-sea woman smiled at first at Feldspar and then Grunt, flickering her tongue with a decided lack of subtlety. Her, she could do without.

  "Tell them," Grunt said, putting her spoon down and gripping the edge of the table with both hands. In places Grunt was well known no female would dream of propositioning the dwarf unless a fight was the true goal.

  "Sorry, we don't have any openings available." Feldspar said, shaking her head. It was a pity. As Grunt would say, damn shrine.

  "And personally, I'm somewhat mistrustful of volunteers," Grunt got to her feet. "Would either, or perhaps both, of you be acquainted with certain members of Adepts Five? Say perhaps, Belinda the Brazen? While your shields can keep her from seeing us, Feldspar, your mother could have known we entered the forest and put her creatures awaiting us on the paths out."

  "That's a lot of paths."

  "True, but those goblins found you and these two seem marginally smarter than a goblin. Marginally. What say you, trollop?"

  The wide-sea woman took a step backwards. The redhead grabbed her companion's arm and met Grunt's eyes. "We say we do what we're told, or else."

  Grunt smiled. "Fair enough. So I'll tell you to quit bothering us, and suggest if you make contact with someone on your com-reader you might remind them that interfering with a quest leader is a crime." She put a silver on the table and slid it across. "For your troubles."

  "No need to be insulting." The redhead turned and led her wide-sea friend away.

  "You think they're working for my mother?" Feldspar asked.

  "Your mother, my father, Windrover, Delarone…" Grunt said. "Or perhaps the Monarch. Everyone's going to want one of their people on this quest. I think that's another reason Planetsinger agreed we should get, at most, one more from Diluvia and the others from Terra. To change the topic back to an older one… you'll notice we've gained an audience."

  Feldspar looked around. The tables closest to them were still unoccupied but the remainder of the common room had filled since they'd arrived. The bar was doing excellent business. She felt like an actor on a stage in the round.

  "Do you understand why Square doesn't want me to leave Diluvia now? We're a draw."

  "But your inn is always busy. Oh." Travelling with Skythane, Feldspar had always put down the full houses to the attraction of the gold elf and Justice she'd been with. On her side of Capitol she always frequented the same places, all of which were generally busy. "Guess we might as well leave."

  "You can if you want. Me, I'm not sleeping outside again tonight. How much cash do you have?"

  "None." Feldspar always paid with her central com-reader account, when she paid at all.

  "Oh well, might as well make a withdrawal. Someone knows we're here. The whole planet might as well."

  The logic of that eluded Feldspar. Grunt probably wanted to gamble. At Square's inn opportunities for a good game of poker were limited. Dwarves couldn't bluff to save their lives. But Feldspar didn't see what harm a withdrawal could do anyway. "No one can trace transactions on the backbone, Grunt."

  "Yeah, right. You're so naive. Anyone here up for a game?" she said to the crowd in a louder voice. "Copper ante and silver limit?"

  To Feldspar's dismay, Grunt insisted she play. Seven was the ideal number for two-card draw and only five of the myriad onlookers cared to take on the dwarf. Evidently her temper was as well known as she was herself. Grunt hated losing. Feldspar expected the only real competition for Grunt at the table would come from a merchant from the Fair Isles, and perhaps the wide-sea woman. Obviously, whoever paid her, paid well. The other three players were two inebriated middle-aged males, lifetime losers from the looks of them, and a green-haired individual who called himself Rabid.

  Feldspar wasn't sure if Rabid was an elf or a human playing at being an elf. He was a stringy, half a head shorter than Feldspar and half a head taller than Grunt… which told Feldspar nothing--most elves grew themselves tall when they mingled with humans but that wasn't universal. Also, elf wannabes most often chose to be gold, not green. Of course, no one would have believed Rabid a gold elf. He didn't have the charisma.

  Still, Rabid apparently did well for himself, whatever he was. Evidently a regular in the Harlequin's Head, his fan club included both females and males. The reason for his popularity was manifest in his tight breeches. They hid nothing, or rather, displayed a great deal. Clearly, what people saw in Rabid was what they anticipated seeing plunged into themselves. If not for her mistake at the shrine, Feldspar would have been tempted to settle in her mind, for once and forever, if size really mattered. Skythane and Spinecracker were impressive but Rabid had them beat. He was much more enticing than the wide-sea woman and friend… much.

  The game unfolded almost as expected. The drunks lost heavily, with most of their money going to the wide-sea woman and Grunt. Feldspar won a little herself, as did the merchant. Her only surprise was Rabid played a conservative game and remained about even. Elves, even ersatz elves, tended to extremes. Money meant even less to them than to most, so they usually bet the limit and either won or lost big.

  One of the drunks dropped out of the game and onto the floor. A couple of burly Harlequin's Head bartenders collected him and his scant remaining cash and carried them upstairs.

  "Last hand," Rabid said half an hour later. The other drunk was teetering and the merchant starting to yawn. "Same ante, no limit. Agreed?" Nods, a waved hand, a blank look.

  Feldspar picked up her cards. Four in a row--one card short of an outside straight. This could well be her best hand of the night.

  "I'm out," Grunt said after barely glancing at what she'd been dealt. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I fold out of turn?"

  She had, and that wasn't like her. "Me too,
" Feldspar said. She was willing to bet Grunt also had good cards. With the limits off, this being the last hand, and with Rabid dealing… something wasn't right.

  Everyone else stayed in, meeting Rabid's bet of a silver. The merchant took one and then folded. Surprisingly, so did the remaining drunkard. The wide-sea woman pushed all her money to the centre of the table.

  "I can't cover that bet," Rabid said, with a meaningful smile.

  "If you lose, you can cover me tonight instead," the woman answered, exactly as expected.

  Rabid smiled. "Done." He flipped over his cards to show a pair of queens.

  The wide-sea woman had three deuces. "I'm at your service, ma'am." Rabid stood, giving the woman a good look at her winnings. "Good game, gentlemen. Ladies, it was my pleasure," he said, bowing first to Feldspar and then to Grunt.

  "The pleasure is all yours." Grunt smiled at the wide-sea woman. "Nice try, elf boy," she said to Rabid. "Enjoy, if you can."

  With another bow, Rabid left in the wide-sea woman's possession. Her small redheaded friend joined them as they started up the stairs.

  "I hope we can get a room a good distance from theirs," Grunt said. "He dealt me a natural flush," she added to Feldspar as they walked together towards the letting desk.

  If they'd both stayed in, Grunt would have won. "You're sure he's an elf?" Feldspar asked. "I couldn't decide."

  "You're joking. That's Rabid Green Rabbit. I thought, of all people, you'd be able to recognise a legend when you saw one. Oh come on girl, surely you've heard of Moonreaver? Oh my, is that a flush of embarrassment I see, oh innocent one?"

  No, it was anger. He'd dealt Grunt a better hand. Moonreaver? He was a legend. Feldspar had expected him to be taller, better looking--and had expected him to ooze charisma. From listening to the stories he did. The stories didn't mention he could shield, although she supposed if he didn't, he'd be swarmed.

  After checking the bars on the window, Feldspar bedded down on the carpet of their room, just inside the door. If anyone tried to sneak in to kill them, she'd wake up. Her precaution was unnecessary. She didn't sleep well, if at all. Grunt snored, and the walls weren't as soundproof as they should be. Screams from Moonreaver's partners slipped through... had to be them, the lucky women. Those screams could have been hers… surely Grunt would have shared. Grunt? Share? Sure, when the sun rose in the north… quit dreaming, dreaming was for sleep… sleep.

  Grunt's first thought upon awakening was that she should have forced Feldspar to take the bed. Damn mattress was lumpy at the edges and sagged horribly in the middle. Odds on she was the first person to merely sleep on it weeks. She rolled to the side and looked down. Feldspar was gone; the poor girl had never been able to sleep well and this adventure, not that it was properly underway, had her all keyed up and even more jangled than usual. Probably was downstairs having breakfast or had gone for a ramble to check out the area around Harlequin's Head. Either way, no worries.

  The girl might be a sheltered innocent in many respects, but she could handle herself in a fight, having an excellent sense of when she could press an attack to advantage and when she needed to duck, weave and dance until an opponent tired. Feldspar had spent many evenings at Square's inn and no one who chose to do so could expect to be immune from the brawling, not even the Prophesied.

  Then again, what they needed to worry about right now were the myriad schemes and machinations of Adepts Five, and various others. The theft of the Adornments had shaken the power structure and things would change whether or not the Adornments were returned. And Grunt felt certain Bethina intended to lead the party that would recover them, no matter what it took.

  At least the woman wasn't infallible. Sending goblins to waylay someone of Feldspar's ability was the act of a fool. Then she'd set her agents to seduce Feldspar. If it hadn't been for the vow at the shrine, that one would have worked; Feldspar would have bedded the wide-sea woman and her little quick-tongued friend and undoubtedly they would have done their best to set Feldspar screaming and reaching for the sky. Equally undoubtedly, they would have succeeded and been invited along for the duration. From all accounts Feldspar's uncomplicated approach to life extended to the amatory arts. Mind you, when the straightforward worked well, why complicate matters?

  Grunt felt responsible for Feldspar's misguided innocence. As the Prophesied, the girl had led a sheltered and protected life. Belinda might spout she considered her daughter a disappointment, but all Diluvia knew anyone who harmed Feldspar would have to answer to Belinda. Until now. Now, that protection was gone. Feldspar needed a new protector. And as the girl's soul-sister, Grunt knew she had to take over that role.

  The planning needed for the quest was up to her. She did research at the Academy once in a while, and usually, while she was there, did Spinecracker. As a lover he was adequate, but as a contact, was without peer. They both knew he liked her body a lot better than she liked his, and he'd always said if there was anything he could do for her… Now, there was something. Grunt flipped open her com-reader.

  Like anyone with brains, Spinecracker never answered communications in real time. You left a message and he either got back to you, or didn't. "Hi. Me. Going on quest with Feldspar, but I'm sure you know that. Could use some supplies for Terra, like say, some of their currency. If I get what I want, you'll get what you want when I return. Everything. But don't blame me if your heart gives out doing it."

  There. That should ensure his assistance.

  Feldspar was by herself at a table. No one was looking at her openly, but as always she was the centre of attention. If the girl was aware of it, she wasn't letting on. She seemed engrossed by her com-reader. Doing some research on Terra? Hah! Likely reading some sappy romance novel or other imported from Terra. A bowl sat in front of her on the table.

  There was rabbit stew and stew without rabbit available for breakfast. Fortunately, or perhaps not, there was also gruel. Grunt asked for a bowl. It was so thin it should have been served in a mug.

  "Morning, Grunt."

  "So I noticed." Grunt lifted the bowl to her lips and drank. Decorum be damned, if one used a spoon it would take forever.

  "I hope Moonreaver comes downstairs soon so we can draft him into the quest and be on our way."

  Grunt gagged on a mouthful and barely managed to keep from spluttering it back up into the bowl.

  "We were looking for an elf adept and one crossed our path," Feldspar said. "One I didn't know. Are you okay?"

  "Are you nuts?"

  "As far as I'm aware, no," Feldspar said. "But if I weren't I probably wouldn't know, would I?"

  "What? No, you don't need to repeat that. It just didn't sound like the Feldspar I know."

  Feldspar cocked her head as if to view Grunt from a different angle. "You must introduce me to that Feldspar some time."

  Mustn't underestimate the girl. Occasionally Feldspar gave her a reminder not to, but why did she insist on doing it first thing in the morning? She'd continued talking, not waiting for Grunt's thoughts to form. How inconsiderate. "Pardon me? I'm afraid I missed that."

  "I asked why Moonreaver wouldn't be a suitable quest member? As far as I can tell, he's never visited Terra and if he'd ever been with Belinda, she'd have said --not like her to bed a legend without boasting. So what's the matter? Not sure you can control your libido if he's around?"

  "Yeah, right... bitter damn bitch soul-sister. Maybe the time with Skythane did you some good after all. You've developed an edge."

  "Skythane helped me develop a quick tongue," Feldspar said, a little too straight faced.

  It was either throw the bowl at her or take the comment as an unfortunate phrasing. Grunt decided on the high road. Besides, she was hungry and the gruel tasted better than it looked, which wasn't difficult. On third thought, she could play word games too. "Moonreaver hasn't come down yet?"

  "Hard to say."

  Grunt gave up. She had better things to think about. Assuming the elf didn't sneak out unseen, the Di
luvian component of the quest party was complete. By the rules, they should be off to the Academy so Adepts Five could provide their wise guidance, supply materials the party hadn't considered, and then send them on their way. Yeah, right. Two of the five wanted this quest to fail, maybe three of the five--Grunt couldn't quite believe Square had given up Belinda after all those years of licking her toes. And the enmity between Feldspar and Belinda, and Feldspar and Windrover for that matter, was open now that Feldspar had divorced them--about time in Grunt's opinion.

  But what was she to her father? A drawing card for the inn, yes, but also a rival. People liked her, even respected her in the morning--they damn well better. Square was merely feared.

  "Dreaming of unicorns?" Feldspar asked. "Hello again. You looked a week's march away."

  Events kept Grunt from needing to find a suitable response. "Elf warning," she said. Rabid had appeared at the top of the stairs. He pranced down, looking around as if expecting applause. There was no sign of the wide-sea woman or her redheaded friend.