As if in answer to his question, an elevator opened and Linda Bedarova came steaming out, trailed by her half-dozen flunkies. At first, no one seemed to notice them, other than Ishtar, who had positioned herself to have a clear view of the elevators. "I only recently learned Linda's my mother," she said. Her voice carried, filling the lobby without amplification. "However, I have known her for years. I was brought up nearby her hideout, the place she goes when she has one of her breakdowns and needs to disappear."
"Seems the police didn't arrest the twins and Caleb," Sian said. "Pity. But that paper-box Ishtar tossed at Caleb did do some damage."
"Huh?" Paper-box? The man who'd been identified to Roger as a werewolf was limping, but what was Sian talking about?
"I'll fill you in later," she said. "But we almost didn't make it to Albright's to rescue you."
He hadn't needed rescuing, but Sian didn't want to hear that. As she'd said... later.
The ones she'd called the twins... Brad and Vlad? Yes, that sounded right, although which was which was unclear, broke off from the group, one to each side, and circled around behind the press conference. Cutting off the escape route? The dwarves waddled along beside Belinda with Spinecracker and Caleb bringing up the rear. Bedarova stopped a body length from the circle surrounding Ishtar.
"What the hell is going on here?"
A frozen moment, then cameras scrambled backwards to get both Belinda and Ishtar in a shot. The way between them opened. "She's not my daughter. My daughter is tall, like me... and beautiful."
Silence. Ishtar's eloquent smile filled the viewfinder of the camera nearest Roger.
"This... this person isn't my daughter. And her name isn't Ishtar... it's Grunt!"
Sian started to chuckle. The reporters picked up her laughter. Bedarova flushed livid red. A beatific smile spread across Ishtar's face. She raised her hands and spread them wide. The camera near Roger pulled back to include Ishtar's magnificent breasts, the fabric of her top stretched tight over them. The laughter waned.
"Mother... you're pathetic." Said with saddened love... brilliant!
Linda Bedarova's face contorted, anger fighting self-control. Her mouth opened. It closed. Another silence, longer. This time, Ishtar broke it. "I so hoped, yesterday, we could work something out."
"It's not too late." A note of defeat in Linda Bedarova's voice.
"I think it is," Ishtar responded, sounding on the verge of tears. "You just don't have what I want."
"I might be able to obtain it."
"Then maybe we should talk, privately... Mommy... upstairs, in our suite?" Ishtar hopped off the table and signalled Sian and Roger to join her.
"Yes, dear." Linda Bedarova smiled for the media. "I'm sorry you had to witness this private family quarrel."
"So, she is family," one of the reporters asked.
A deep sigh. "Yes, Ishtar is my daughter."
* * * * *
"I'd forgotten what a handsome man he's become." Hilldweller examined Skythane's face closely. The inspection made Feldspar feel nervous despite Hilldweller's calm aura. "And he seems healthy, apart from a drastic loss of weight." A smile flickered across her face. "It's been a few years and more since I've seen my son. Thank you."
Feldspar switched back to herself without being asked. Hilldweller didn't even blink at the transformation. "I suppose you know why we're here."
"As the hands of fate. I told Delbert he'd regret his decision to get involved with Belinda." She shrugged. "So be it."
"So you're going to help us?" Susan asked, leaning forward. A button on Sian's strained blouse chose that moment to pop.
"No, I don't help. My role is to see and, at times, inform. I can tell you that in a personal sense, you need no assistance. You yourself have fallen in to good fortune." Hilldweller smiled and put a hand on one of Susan's. "And your luck will maintain, although ofttimes you will question whether that is so... but such is the nature of sentient beings. With regards to your friend's quest, I can tell her Delbert's at home, next door in the Crimson Tower and that his two bodyguards are more than willing to kill. They have before." She paused and fixed her eyes on Feldspar. "Your Terran friend will stay with me. As for you, your present life is but a walking shadow."
"Signifying nothing?" Susan asked.
"A little education is a dangerous thing." Hilldweller smiled. "We are in the presence of an author, one who writes fate rather than being its toy. When much is possible, little is likely and all becomes clouded." She turned to Lupa. "You can only atone for that which you yourself have done, not for the wickedness of others. And even that is unsure."
"The evil that men do, lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones," Lupa responded. "Don't look so surprised, Hilda. I can read and I had to find something to combat your metaphysical claptrap."
"O! how this spring of love resembleth the uncertain glory of an April day," Hilldweller answered with a smile. "And a more uncertain glory one would never care to see. Guide well, my young friend."
"She lost me with that one," Lupa said to Susan. "You?"
"I don't think I should comment." Susan stroked Hilldweller's hand. "I gather I've been relegated to the wings. You and Feldspar are the team."
"She's going to help me regain the Adornments for Diluvia?" Feldspar asked. "Her?"
"I'm going to be a naughty oracle for a moment and say something clear," Hilldweller answered. "If you're not going to take Lupa with you, don't bother going after Delbert. There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so," she added with a smile to Lupa. "Sorry, it's a hard habit to give up."
"Try."
"So if I take Lupa with me, I'll win?" Feldspar asked.
"No, I didn't say that."
"She said if you don't, you'll lose." Lupa stood. "And I say, let's quit pissing around and go get the damn Adornments."
Which was about what Ishtar would say. And better advice than any oracle would supply. Feldspar stood. "We might just be able to work together. Let's go."
"Guess I'm not going to have to play my last card then, am I?"
"Oh do it anyway," Susan prompted.
Lupa grinned. "I know how to get to Delbert's penthouse and she doesn't."
Feldspar had to admit, to herself... that was a capping argument.
A side door of the Bent-Arm connected to the lobby of Crimson Tower. Feldspar stood in the doorway and watched the people, trying to pick out anyone who might try to keep them from getting to the elevators. Lupa'd gone for a pit stop, or so she said. Feldspar suspected it was more a case of needing a moment alone, or perhaps sensing she needed one. She didn't want to like Lupa, didn't want to have any sort of bond with a savage who'd dined on sentient flesh, whether it'd been her fault or not. Some things just were evil in and of themselves, and that was one.
"Anything?"
She hadn't heard Lupa come up beside her, hadn't sensed her presence. "Nothing, nothing at all." She turned her head slightly to meet the pale grey eyes. "I just hope I can count on you."
Lupa smiled. Were her teeth unnaturally sharp or was that imagination? "We know where we stand. We're both committed to this for our own reasons. You do know the chances of survival aren't great? They'll be waiting for us to come off the second elevator and there's no other route in."
"But neither of us are going to back out. Neither of us can." Lupa had explained they had to go to the sixtieth floor and then, up again, in an exclusive elevator. At the top of which someone undoubtedly would be waiting. "We're going to win, Lupa, because we have to."
"Don't you think Delbert feels the same way?"
"I suppose."
"Look on the dark side of it... with me along, in your world-view whatever happens, evil will be at least partially triumphant." Said with a pointed smile.
"Too true. You ready?"
"As I ever will be. There's no one waiting to stop us here."
"The ones outside were Belinda's?" Feldspar asked.
"Delbert and
she aren't in this together, you know. Never were. Belinda's an opportunist. She's not the one who aided him."
"You're sure of that?"
"I know it for a fact... pillow talk. Delbert likes fucking me. Not a mutual affection let me add. Just something I had to do. Got me information... and a key to his private elevator. Without which your quest would be fucked... instead of me."
There wasn't much Feldspar could say to that. She didn't try. They took the first elevator up. The sixtieth floor corridor was deserted; the only sounds were their feet padding on the thick carpet. The penthouse elevator was larger than Feldspar'd expected. "Guess it has to be big enough for furniture."
Lupa didn't answer, just waited until she got in, inserted the key, then pressed the button. When the elevator stopped, the doors didn't open. A tinny voice came from the speaker. "Take off your clothes."
"And if we don't?" Feldspar asked.
"We flood it with gas and knock you out, just like we would've if you'd come carrying guns. Your choice."
No choice. Feldspar stripped. Lupa already had. "Nice ass," the speaker commented.
"Thanks," Lupa and Feldspar answered, together. They looked at each other and smiled.
"Push your clothes into a pile at the front, then lean on the back wall, arms above your heads, legs spread wide. When the door opens, don't move."
They did as told. Feldspar heard the door slide open. A rustling behind them would be their clothes being removed.
"Okay, Lupa, you faithless bitch, you first. Turn slowly, then move to your right once you're clear the door. Don't even twitch, Feldspar, or she gets it."
"I don't know why you think I'd care," Feldspar said. "Or why you're scared of me. It's not like I'm Belinda. She could pick you up and throw you out the window, and would."
"I'm not scared of her either," a deeper voice answered. "Slowly, Lupa." The redhead had pushed herself off the wall.
"Sorry."
"You sound pretty scared to me, Delarone," Feldspar said.
"Am not. But you're right. We don't need these precautions. Both of you might as well come out together. Sorry about the clothes."
"No, that was a good idea," Feldspar said. "I had a viper up my sleeve. One of your people might want to stomp on it."
A muttered curse and heavy footsteps.
"She's joking, you moron."
As Feldspar turned, a burly man with a machine-gun froze in his tracks. "How would I know that?"
"You wouldn't. That's why I told you." Delarone's pictures didn't do him justice. He was grotesque: thin shoulders, potbelly, and a pocked face further marred by an eye that twitched in an irregular rhythm. That he was wearing what clearly was a woman's tiara and necklace, and held a delicate, jewelled sceptre in one hand didn't help. Feldspar couldn't help herself. She started laughing. This ambulant eyesore was greatest threat the worlds had ever known?
* * * * *
After Bedarova's public acknowledgement of Ishtar as her daughter most of the reporters scurried off to file the story or do voice-overs, effectively ending the impromptu press conference. A few stayed around, hoping for one-on-one interviews or simply trying to eavesdrop. At a glare from Ishtar they all moved well away. Sian tensed as Bedarova came towards them, while noting Ishtar was totally relaxed. It had been a battle, not a war--and not even a clear victory--but you wouldn't know that from looking at Ishtar.
Or by listening to her. "Here to kiss my feet... Mom?"
Bedarova took several deep breaths. "No, to negotiate an alliance. If we work together, we both can get what we want."
"Is that right, Mom?" Ishtar clearly delighted in saying the 'M' word. "You're going to have to explain. I'm just a stupid dwarf. Pardon me, a stupid half dwarf... assuming Square really is my father. Is Square my father... Mom?"
More deep breaths. Judging from the livid red face, one more 'M' word and Bedarova would lose control. Was that what Ishtar wanted? If so, at least the chandelier was already gone. And, as in most hotel lobbies, the furniture was nailed down. Belinda would have to rip it off the floor before she could throw it. At least it might give them a moment to run for a door. To Sian's surprise, Bedarova managed a smile in response to Ishtar's question.
"If he's your father, then you're not mine. Dwarves and humans can't cross-breed--everyone knows that."
"And everyone knows that wasn't the case until after the Atlantian War. Oh my, you didn't? All beauty and no brains, eh Mom? Anyway, the gods made it so back then and I presume they can make exceptions to their rules. Heck, I'd say it's rather obvious they have. Hard to explain me otherwise, isn't it? Guess they wanted to make sure you didn't off the Prophesied. Poor Feldspar, having to live with you around so long, then watching for assassination attempts after she left. And even if you had succeeded, you'd have failed."
"Would you damn well shut up?"
"Give me a damn reason."
"Not here. Upstairs?"
"Visit your parlour? Sure, why not?" Ishtar turned to the few reporters remaining in the lobby. "Listen up, folks. Mommy's invited me to her room. If you don't see me back down here in half an hour, call the cops and report a murder."
From the glower on Bedarova's face, Sian suspected that might have been the plan. Or was now. Without waiting for an invitation, she took Roger's hand and moved to beside Ishtar. Not for the first time that day she rather wished she carried a gun. At least the twins and Caleb didn't take the elevator with them.
Still, the ride up wasn't without event. Until then Ishtar had ignored Spinecracker and he'd been as quiet as the dwarves, although a lot more nervous. In the elevator he became positively twitchy. "Ishtar, you have to understand...."
"I understand, Spinecracker. Believe me, I do." That she didn't forgive was implicit in her tone.
Spinecracker pressed himself into the elevator's side. The conversation wasn't continued until they reached the suite and the door, closed. Then it was Bedarova who spoke. "If you want Spinecracker, Ishtar--dead, alive or alive in unbearable pain for years--he's yours."
Ishtar nodded. "What else's on the table?"
"I cut you in to my Terran Empire."
"So far there isn't anything I couldn't get for myself."
"You and your friends all live."
"You're playing a losing hand and don't bluff worth harpy guano. You couldn't kill Feldspar or me if you tried. Oh, that's right--you have. Tell you what, give me the Adornments, go back to Diluvia and make a full confession and you can live. That's the best deal you're going to get from me. Except you can't get it because you don't have the Adornments and can't get them. Belinda, as they say here on Terra... you're toast. No thanks; I don't think we'll sit. Roger? Sian? We're out of here."
Ishtar turned her back and walked to the door. Sian watched Bedarova, waited for her to do something, to order something done. She let go of Roger's hand and waved for him to follow Ishtar. Then she backed to the door, went out, and closed it.
"She going to send her hench-dwarves after us?" Roger asked.
"Not a chance," Ishtar replied, punching him lightly on the arm. "Those two aren't fighters. In their way, they're not even sentient. Disposable batteries for her mind powers, that's all."
Sian turned to face Ishtar. "I can't believe she's given up."
"She hasn't. What she wants most of all seems to be what we want to... the Adornments. You had it right back at your apartment. All we've been doing is buying Feldspar and Susan time. Nope, we haven't seen the last of Belinda, damn it all. And she certainly hasn't seen the last of me. Right now, we head for the Bent-Arm and see if they've left us anything to do."
Caleb and the gladiator twins were waiting for them in front of the elevators. "Gonna run again?" Caleb asked. "Try and throw something? Aw gee... the hall's bare. Poor little dwarfie."
The twins attacked. Years of training came back to Sian in a second of panic. Sidestepping, she whirled and landed a sidekick on one twin's knee. A dull crack--followed by a scream of pain. She turned to
face Caleb. He hadn't moved. The other twin was lying at Ishtar's feet, his neck bent at an abnormal angle. Hers was writhing on the carpet in pain.
"Any other comments?" Ishtar asked Caleb, waving for Sian and Roger to get going towards the elevators.
"Nope, guess not." Caleb stepped forward and prodded the motionless twin with his foot. "Dead." He glanced at the other. "Kneecapped."
"I'd say so. Lie flat on the floor, face down or you'll be joining the dead one."
Ishtar stepped in the middle of his back as she went over and joined Sian and Roger. "Okay, you can get up now."
Adornments of Glory Page 21