Part 26 (1/2)
The woman stared at her, obviously not recognizing her. ”Who are you?”
Cube hastily drew on Silhouette's memory of regulations. ”They wouldn't let in anyone who wasn't a relative, so I became a relative. I'm actually a fellow patient. I was in this bed last night, in a coma.”
”A coma!”
”But I recovered and went home. Now I'm visiting. How are they treating you--” she glanced at the nameplate at the foot of the bed. ”Irma?”
”Wretchedly,” the woman said, and commenced a litany of complaints. ”The food is awful. They don't have the right brand of caviar, and they wouldn't allow me any champagne. Just because of my lacerated ulcer, they claim. It's outrageous.”
”Outrageous,” Cube agreed.
The woman talked until she fell asleep. Cube waited until midnight, then stood by the bed. She felt something overlapping her body. h.e.l.lo Silhouette, she thought. Check your memory. You have a new boyfriend and a new life. She hoped that was true. It would be if Silhouette went along with it.
Then the presence was gone, and Cube was facing Demoness Metria.
Chapter 9: Thanks.
h.e.l.lo, Metria,” she said. ”I'm back. How was it?”
”Let's make sure. Pull someone out of the pouch.”
”There's a problem?”
”Silhouette couldn't do it. I want to be sure it's you.”
”Diamond knows it's me.” Indeed, the dog was licking her hand and wagging her tail.
”Diamond liked Silhouette too.”
Cube shrugged and put her hand to the purse. ”Ryver,” she said.
The man caught her hand, then slid out. ”Where are we?”
”In a dull haunted inn,” Metria said, her dress abruptly covering anything interesting. ”Go back in the pouch.”
Ryver shrugged and put his foot to the pouch, then slid in. It seemed the demoness could turn it off as readily as she could turn it on, and she wasn't interested in fascinating any mortals at present.
”Now you know it's really me,” Cube said. ”What is going on?”
”You would hardly believe it! That woman got into more trouble! I'm accustomed to making trouble, not preventing it. What a ch.o.r.e.”
”I want to know all about it,” Cube said. ”But can it wait until morning?”
”Yes, now that you're back. How did it go in Mundania?”
”I put her aunt in her place, fired her accountant, beat up her boyfriend, and set her up with a new one.”
”Who?”
”Philip, son of Filip the gardener. He's in love with her.”
”Odd. She didn't advert him.”
”Didn't what him?”
”Allude, reference, touch on, bring up--”
”Mention?”
”Whatever,” the demoness agreed crossly. ”How can he be her boyfriend?”
”They were children together. He's a good man. She has execrable taste in men.”
”Beautiful women do; it's in the Big Book of Rules.”
”So I set her up with the one she needs. I just hope she has the wit to realize it.”
”She was afraid you'd get raped.”
Cube laughed. ”Who'd ever rape me?”
”In her body.”
That did make the difference. ”He tried.” Cube went to the bed and lay down. ”Catch me up in the morning.” She closed her eyes.
”You're a cool one.” The demoness must have faded out, because she was silent thereafter. Cube lay for a while, reviewing the events of the past day, hoping she had done the right thing. But she knew it would take time to be sure she had. If she had. She sank slowly to sleep without resolution.
The mares brought her mixed dreams bordering good and bad without quite entering the territory of either. She woke in the night, thinking. Cube knew she had done things in Mundania she had never done in Xanth, and not just because she had wielded a beautiful body. Backing off Aunt Susan like that, putting pincers on the accountant, actually physically attacking boyfriend Yorick--this had been quite unlike Silhouette, but also unlike Cube herself. She had gumption to spare, but she had demonstrated more than that. It had bordered on cruelty. She had never been that way in real life.
And there, perhaps, was the key: Mundania had not been really real to her. It had been an alternate existence, like a game, where consequences weren't completely personal. So she had acted boldly. But now, done with it, she was reflecting on right and wrong. It had not been her life there, but it was Silhouette's life. Had she had the right to change it so substantially?
Yet Silhouette had been trying to commit suicide. Left to herself, she would have, literally, no life. Cube had acted to make it possible for her to have not only a life, but a good life. If she failed, the woman was no worse off than she had been. If she succeeded, Silhouette could forge on and perhaps accomplish worthwhile things. And make a good young man very happy.
Mostly satisfied, Cube returned to sleep. This time the mares brought her good dreams. Some daymares must have been moonlighting, because nightmares never brought good dreams.
In the morning Cube organized for the resumption of her trip. She saw that the thread now led out of the room. She must have accomplished her Mundane mission, apart from her personal satisfaction. She hoped so. She liked Silhouette despite her phenomenal beauty, and wanted her to succeed in life.
The innkeeper intercepted her, fidgeting and s.h.i.+fty with his eyes. ”There's more pots to scrub. You owe me.”
”I have paid you,” Cube said evenly. She had had recent experience dealing with dishonest folk.
”How?” he demanded.
”I abolished your ghost.”
”How can I believe that?” Naturally he, being untrustworthy, did not take the word of others.