Cube Route Part 24

That depended on perspective. Cube saw that beyond the window was another building. She checked Silhouette's memory and verified that this was a built-up area, all houses, stores, roads, and businesses. This was a private hospital unit, not marked as such, reserved for wealthy patrons. Rich folk did not mix much with the common herd; their illnesses were kept invisible. So Cube, in Silhouette's body, was definitely out of the woods.

"First I want to get a good night's sleep."

"But you have been unconscious for three days!"

"Not exactly. Come back in the morning."

The nurse, fazed by her tone, retreated. Cube relaxed, sleeping. She needed this body to be in decent shape for the coming day.

In the morning the nurse was back, more than eager to rouse her. Cube realized that the woman's position depended on the care she took of this important patient.

She sat up, a.s.sisted by the nurse. Her head threatened to spin off her neck; she was dangerously dizzy. But in a moment it pa.s.sed. Not three quarters of a moment, not a moment and two instants; here in Mundania such measurements were crude, rounded off to even moments.

She swung her legs from the bed to the floor. They were absolutely lovely legs; her illness had not damaged them. The feet were dainty, the knees were not k.n.o.bby, and the thighs were thickening columns of delight. Her panties would not have magic, here in Mundania, but with legs like these, who needed panties? They would stun any man within range.

After another moment, she rose to her feet. The nurse steadied her again while her burgeoning head settled back into place. Then she walked carefully to the bathroom, checking Silhouette's mind to be sure she knew how it worked.

In the course of an hour, with the nurse's help, she got herself cleaned, dressed, and combed. She stood before the full-length mirror. It wasn't magic, but it showed the loveliest creature she had encountered. She was ethereally beautiful. The Good Magician had said she would be, and she was, beyond her wildest dreams.

But this was not the end of the Quest. This was just an episode along the way, and this was Mundania. She could not keep this body--not unless she wanted to stay here. She did not. She wanted to be lovely in Xanth, so she could charm Ryver. So she would handle her business here, as she understood it, and return within the time limit. She did not want to miss her return connection.

She checked Silhouette's memory. Actually it was this body's reality; the memory was of Cube. Her soul was here, but the body and brain were Silhouette's, and therefore the memory too. She had exchanged limited life histories with Silhouette, not so that she would understand the woman's situation, but so the understanding of Cube herself would be firmly planted. Similarly, in Xanth, Silhouette's soul would be dependent on Cube's body and brain and memory. She would know who she was, but the details would be only what Cube had learned from their discussion. It was an interesting inversion.

She was feeling better now. The food had restored her, and limited strength was returning to her body. It was time to tackle Silhouette's problems. She had reviewed them in her mind while dressing, and saw that Silhouette knew what needed to be done, as she had said, but had lacked the gumption, as she had confessed. Cube had never been short of gumption. It was time to apply it. The thread had not, it seemed, brought her here randomly. This was the situation for her strongest character trait. She rehea.r.s.ed it in her mind; she wanted to be sure not to m.u.f.f it. A life was in the balance.

She dismissed the nurse and marched out of the unit to her expensive little car. She let Silhouette's familiarity with it take over, and drove to her plush gated estate. Once inside the mansion, she went directly to the aunt's office. She knocked peremptorily on the door, then pushed it open without waiting. The woman was seated at her desk, reviewing some papers. She looked up as Cube approached.

"Sil, I am glad to see you recovered, but you know I am not to be disturbed while working."

The aunt was formidable; Cube saw that immediately. That made her react in the way she did: the worse the challenge, the sharper she became. She was really a different person when under sufficient pressure. "Susan, we must talk," Cube said firmly, invoking the script in Silhouette's mind.

The woman's eyes widened. "I have told you not to be familiar. Have you forgotten your manners? Return to your room, Sil."

Which was just about exactly what Silhouette's mind had figured would be the response. The script was good. All she needed to do was activate it properly.

Cube leaned over the desk, putting her hands on the papers. Her heart was pounding, but she was in the gumption mode and it had but one direction: onward. This was the time to really make her point. "I have some concerns of my own about manners," she said firmly. "You will address me formally as Silhouette, Susan."

Anger flared in the woman's face. "I'll do nothing of the kind! What has possessed you, Sil?"

Now for the drama. She had to make the proper impact. Every nuance was important. No weakness must show.

Cube swept the papers from the desk. "Silhouette, Susan. You will not appreciate my reaction if you forget again." This was actually grim fun, because she knew the woman deserved it.

Now it was sheer outrage. "If I forget! You impertinent scamp! Go to your room this instant."

She had asked for it. "Susan, you have been leeching off my estate for the past two years since Father died. I am the legitimate heir; you are merely a temporary caretaker, actually an employee, remaining by my sufferance. You will treat me with the respect due me, and make yourself useful in ways I shall define, or your sinecure will be terminated." She fixed the woman with a steady glare. "Am I making my position sufficiently clear?"

Aunt Susan's mouth worked for a moment before sound emerged. "You--you--you impossible--"

Cube let the fire of her aroused nature burn in her gaze. A different creature occupied this body. One with gumption to spare. It was important not to shout, but to speak with absolute quiet conviction. "Now go to your room, Susan, before I lose my temper," Cube said evenly.

The woman stared at her as if seeing a ghost. Cube smiled inwardly; if only she knew! "How can you possibly--?"

"You are my woman, Susan. Do not force me to punish you more than you deserve. We shall talk later. Go to your room and think about your situation. I suspect you will conclude that discretion is the better part of valor." That was a nice phrase drawn verbatim from Silhouette's script.

Clearly stunned, Susan left the room. Cube breathed a hidden sigh of relief. She had thought her animation of the script should work, but hadn't been certain, and of course her aroused gumption had forged onward regardless. Silhouette was the mistress of this estate, and her aunt knew it. She merely had needed to have her face rubbed in it.

Cube let her pa.s.sion subside somewhat. She wondered at times whether it was related to her talent: nickelpedes were among the fiercest creatures in Xanth. Maybe they took over her mind when she was under pressure. Ordinarily she would have faltered somewhere in the scene. She had been a better actress than she expected.

Now for the second vulture: the accountant. This was a bit trickier, because Cube knew nothing of money, finances, or investments; all of them were Mundane concepts that Silhouette's mind wasn't fully clear on. She knew she was being cheated, but the details of it were beyond her grasp. But she did have one key concept: auditing. If Cube understood it correctly, it was like a magic word of power. That, and gumption galore, should do the job. She hoped.

She sorted it through in her mind, lining up the concepts and terms as well as she could. There wasn't as much of a script for this, so she would have to improvise. Then she drew on Silhouette's mind for another Mundane process: use of the telephone. She picked up the odd device and touched the b.u.t.ton marked ACCOUNTANT.

"Yes," an unctuous voice said in the earpiece.

"James, this is Silhouette. Be here in half an hour with your figures."

"Sil, dear, is there a problem? I'll be glad to make a token advance from the account."

"There is a serious problem. Be here." She set the phone down, ending the connection.

Now she had half an hour to wait. She would use it to prepare for the third interview, which was likely to be the most difficult.

She went to the old den where Silhouette's kindly rich father had relaxed. It was untouched, in deference to a stipulation in his will (another complicated concept), and because there was nothing in it anybody wanted. She went to his desk. It was locked, but she knew where the key was hidden. Silhouette had been daddy's little girl, and he had shared secrets with her. She drew a loose brick from the fireplace, reached into the hole, and found the key. She took it to the desk and unlocked it.

The main drawer contained a.s.sorted old papers and pictures, including several of Silhouette as a child. She had always been pretty, and had soon grown into beauty. But as she had said, she had never had real strength of character. And would not, when she returned to this life. That was why Cube needed to do the whole job, and to secure it so that the vultures would not return. It was a lot to do in just one day, and would require hard measures.

Fortunately, as she had also said, Silhouette knew what those measures were. Now Cube was going to apply them.

She found what she was looking for in a lower drawer on the side: the collection of weapons. There was something called a Gun: it pushed out little bits of metal that would puncture flesh. It was a fearsome weapon, and Silhouette was afraid of it. She also had little notion how to use it. So that was out.

Another weapon was a Knife. Cube had seen similar in Xanth, and always been wary of them; they were dangerous enough just cutting vegetables. Also, she didn't want to shed blood here; that would lead to complications with the police, and Silhouette dreaded their involvement. Since it would be Silhouette handling the aftermath, that was out too.

A third weapon was odd. It was just an L-shaped piece of black plastic (a Mundane substance) with a hole at the top. All its edges were rounded; it was comfortable to handle because it couldn't scratch. It looked like useless junk; few folk ever recognized it for what it was. But Daddy had once shown the little girl how to use it, and, awed, she had remembered. Cube put her right forefinger through the hole, and closed her three remaining fingers around the shaft. The bottom of the L stuck forward below her small hand like a loose end. But it wasn't loose; it was the business end. She could use this.

She checked for pockets, and found that this gown-like dress didn't have any. She was expected to carry a purse. Cube knew of purses but had never used one herself, unless the pouch counted. But she didn't want to hide this weapon in a purse; she wanted it right on her body, where she could put her hand on it in a hurry.

She cast about. Finally she tucked it into her waistband under her blouse. That wasn't ideal, but her clothing left little choice. With luck the slight bulge over her tummy wouldn't be noticed.

She looked at Silhouette's watch. This was a gem-studded wristband with a small disk with two or three tiny sticks radiating out from its center, marking time. She had used up most of the time she had given the accountant.

She closed the desk, returned the key to its hiding place, replaced the brick, and strode for the main reception room. She just had time to settle herself in a fancy chair and cross her legs appealingly before the accountant arrived.

"h.e.l.lo, Sil," he said with artificial joviality.

"Silhouette."

"Beg pardon?"

"You are my employee. You will address me formally."

He looked startled, then regrouped. "Of course, Silhouette," he said, humoring her. "Now what is this little problem? I am prepared to authorize any reasonable expense if there is a dress or item of jewelry you desire."

"James, I will cut to the chase. You have been embezzling from me for the past two years. This will not only stop, it will be reversed."

"Embezzling!" he said, astonished. "How can you say such a thing, Sil--Silhouette?"

"Do not attempt to play a game with me, James. I have known all along. Now it is time to correct it. I will give you one day to get your accounts in order before I have them audited." There was the magic word. If it did not work-- "Audited!" he exclaimed, his ruddy features paling. "You can't be serious! Your aunt would never authorize--"

So it had scored. "Susan will no longer be reviewing the estate accounts," Cube said. "I will do that personally, after the auditor is done." She fixed the man with a metallic gaze. "You have two choices, James: make prompt reparations and be allowed to resign from your position without adverse notice, or fail to do this and face termination and criminal charges."

The man stared at her with the expression that was becoming familiar. He couldn't understand how timid Silhouette could do this. He didn't know who was governing this body. "This--a joke, right?"

"An unfunny one," Cube agreed. "Now go to your office and get your accounts in order, because my next call is to the auditor. You have your instruction and your deadline. I suggest that you not waste further time."

Like a zombie, the man shambled out of the room. Cube nodded; the magic word had indeed been potent.

And no bluff. She drew on Silhouette's information to use the telephone book and check the Yellow Pages under Certified Public Accountants. Toward the end of the list was one called Xanadu. She liked that word; it sounded like Xanth. So that was the one she called. Soon she had an appointment with the auditor, Kubla. He would not arrive for two days, so Silhouette would have to handle it, but Cube had, as the Mundane idiom had it, greased the skids.

Now it was time for Yorick's afternoon visit. He was Silhouette's fiance, an imposing and urbane man a decade her senior. He had the appearance of the ideal consort, and Silhouette's relatives approved of him. They didn't know he was a vulture.

For Yorick habitually brutalized Silhouette, carefully so as to leave no visible marks, and had raped her on occasion. At first she had been fascinated by him, but now she hated and feared him. He was like a hunting snake, to distort a metaphor, and she like a captive bird; she could neither resist nor escape him. He was the main reason for her decision to commit suicide.

Cube was not fascinated by the man, and she was no captive bird. Everything she knew about him from Silhouette's experience satisfied her that she wouldn't want him even if he came courting her in her real body. What use to exchange a manless life for a victim's fate? He, above all, had to be dealt with.

But mere words would not cow this brutal rogue. He was interested in Silhouette for three things: her money, her beauty, and her social status. He had a deal with the corrupt accountant to siphon her money, he ravished her beauty at will, and he would have her status when he married her. He would not lightly give up these things.

But there were measures that should be effective. Cube would invoke them. She had to prevail, because if she did not get this man permanently out of Silhouette's life, she would have no life. So she would address them in order, and with luck persuade him to look elsewhere for his gratifications. If she failed--well, it might get ugly.

Yorick arrived on schedule, for he was a punctual man, especially where his interests were concerned. "Hi, babe!" he said.

Cube froze for a moment. She had not made proper allowance for his appearance. He was a handsome man, the kind that could ordinarily make her swoon with frustrated longing. But handsome was as handsome did, she reminded herself with another Mundane aphorism. In any event, he was not for her. Even if he had been decent, he was a Mundane in Mundania.

Yorick swept her into his arms and kissed her, and she couldn't bring herself to resist. If only such a thing could be real, on its several levels!

Then she summoned her gumption. What she needed to do was cause him to break the engagement and go away forever. That would require some finesse and considerable ugly implication. First she had to undermine the foundations of their relationship. Then she had to provoke him into dumping her.

"Desist, dear," she said, gently pushing him away. "We have special business."

"Indeed we do, Sil!" His arms did not release her; instead one hand slid under her skirt to squeeze one firm b.u.t.tock while the other quested for her breast. He liked the fullness thereof. "Let's get to the bedroom."

"Desist!" Cube said more sharply, twisting out of his grasp. "Sit down. We must talk."

"Sure we will, soon." He pursued her.

She found refuge behind a couch, where he couldn't conveniently reach. She had no script at all for this; Silhouette had never had the gumption even to try to avoid him. "There are matters relating to our marriage that must be settled. First, there will be a pre-nuptual agreement." That was another magic word or phrase.

"A what?" He was trying to figure out how to get to her.

"With teeth in it."

"A pre-nup!" he exclaimed, fidgeting and avoiding her gaze. "Whatever for?"

"In the event of the dissolution of our relationship, you will have a fair but modest stipend until such time as you marry elsewhere. You will have no claim on the estate, and there will be no cash settlement."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?" he demanded, outraged. But there was a vacuity in his tone: he was bluffing. "You can't do that."

"There will be other details, of course, but that will be the essence. You will not get rich off me."

A cunning look replaced his incredulity. Then it was suppressed. He fidgeted and looked away again, apparently unaware of the manner she was reading him. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. "Of course, dear. Whatever you say. All I want is your happiness."

"Excellent. I will have my lawyer draw it up soon. It will be absolutely tight."

"Not if I don't sign it," he muttered.

"What was that, Yorick?"

"Nothing, dear. Now let's get to the bedroom."

One support had been compromised. On to the second. "When we marry," she continued inexorably, "I will not be taking your surname. I will keep my own, so it will be quite clear that we are not social equals."

Anger clouded his countenance. "That's outrageous!"

She delivered the level gaze. "You do still wish to marry me?"

"Of course! But not this way."

She leaned forward so that the upper surfaces of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were exposed and smiled, devastating him with her beauty. "What way did you have in mind, dear?"

"That's it!" he rasped. He lunged across the couch, catching her by a long tress. "We'll have none of this c.r.a.p! If you don't like the bedroom, we'll do it right here on the couch."

"Release my hair," Cube said firmly.

"The h.e.l.l!" He yanked on it cruelly. "What's got into you, Sil? How come these sudden airs? You know you're nothing but a d.a.m.ned s.l.u.t, nothing at all without me."

That did it. She had been foolishly half reluctant to destroy him, because of his handsomeness. Now she understood right through to the core that handsome truly was as handsome did, and he was fecal matter. Her gumption was converting to something like rage. "Release my hair," she repeated, her hand finding the plastic piece at her waistband.

"The h.e.l.l!" he repeated, yanking so hard that she had to bend forward over the couch, showing twice as much breast as before. He reached over her back, caught her bottom, and heaved her up and over so that her head plowed into his thighs. His hands remained busy, catching her legs, hauling her the rest of the way onto the couch. She was unable to resist effectively at the moment, but the plastic was in her hand and her rage was burgeoning.

He turned her over, roughly, and ripped open her blouse. "You're just a piece of meat! Now spread your legs."

Cube tried to sit up, to get her feet on the floor. But he was holding her down as he continued to rip at her clothing, and she remained weak from her pill-induced illness. She could not get him off her, and could not get off the couch. The situation was out of control.

It was time to defend herself more effectively. Words had lost their power. She needed to temper her rage with effective action. She bent her right arm at the elbow and punched upward at his head. The L point of the weapon rammed into his left ear.

"Ooow!" he cried, lurching back. "What the h.e.l.l?"

That was more like it. "Get away from me," Cube said.