"How can I be free in a body like this? I can't get a man to look at me, let alone romance me. But if I were beautiful, I could be happy."
Silhouette gazed at her. "I wish we could exchange, so that you could discover what my life is like, and I could have the pleasure of yours."
"I wish so too! But--" Cube broke off, noticing something. The thread had led her to this inn and this room, but it hardly quit there. It went to Silhouette and stopped. It did not lead out of the room.
"You look as if you see a ghost," Silhouette said with sad humor. "Are you all right?"
"I think something--there is something--you may find this hard to believe, but--but maybe we are meant to exchange."
The woman shook her head. "I spoke foolishly. Even were it possible, I wouldn't care to do that to you. I am dying, and even if by some mischance I survive this siege, my life is not worth living. You would be locked in misery."
But the idea had taken hold. "Maybe. Silhouette, can you keep a secret?"
"I can do nothing else. It is the hard truths that should be revealed that are beyond me."
"I mean, if I tell you a secret, will you keep it?"
Silhouette met her gaze. She did not fidget, and her voice was firm. "Of course."
"I want to explain my business, so you can understand why I think we may need to exchange, at least for a while. Maybe just our souls. But you need to know what you would be getting into."
Silhouette laughed. "WhatI would be getting into! If you took my identity, you would be getting into hell!"
Still no sign of lying. She meant it. "Hell?"
"It is mostly of my own making, I confess. I simply lack the gumption to do what I know needs doing."
Something electric ran through Cube. "Gumption?"
"I am not a strong person. Until two years ago I never needed to be strong. My beauty and wealth safeguarded me, and so did my strong father. But when my father died, the vultures closed in. My aunt, my accountant, my boyfriend--"
"Vultures?"
"Oh, yes! They are feeding on my flesh and picking my bones, and I can't stand it, but neither can I stand up to them. So all I can do is escape by dying."
"But if you had--gumption--you could deal with them?"
Silhouette nodded. "Yes, I know exactly what is needed, if I just had the nerve to do it. But I don't, and they know it."
This aspect of Cube's mission was taking shape. "Then let me tell you my story, and you tell me yours, and we'll see."
"We'll see," Silhouette agreed.
They talked for two hours. Cube told of her secret mission, and the thread she followed, and how it led to Silhouette, even when she walked around the room. Then Silhouette told her of the horror of her own existence, and Cube realized that she had not been exaggerating. A beautiful woman could indeed be miserable.
But there were other aspects to consider. "You can't just walk around Xanth on your own," Cube said, "without knowing anything about it. There are many dangers we natives don't even think about; we just avoid them. You will need guidance and protection."
"Will your dog accompany me? She's a nice black Labrador, a good breed."
"I think so. But she's Mundane too; maybe she's staying with me so she won't get in more trouble in Xanth. I was thinking of more formidable assistance."
Silhouette shrugged. "Considering that I hardly care whether I live or die, anything should be sufficient."
"But you'll be living or dying in my body," Cube said. "I don't want anything bad to happen to it."
"Oh, of course. I apologize; I wasn't thinking. I've never been very good at thinking."
"Who told you that?"
"My domineering aunt, who runs our household since my father's death. She is surely correct."
Cube had not noticed any problem with Silhouette's mind, but saw that her self-esteem was even lower than Cube's own, if for a rather different reason. So she didn't argue the case. "I was thinking of a demoness."
Silhouette smiled. "You did mention something of the sort. You said this is a magic land."
She didn't truly believe. "Observe." Cube put her hand in the pouch. "Metria."
The demoness slid out. She looked at Silhouette, who stepped back nervously. "Well now! You're the prettiest ghost I've seen."
"And you are the most alluring demoness I have encountered," Silhouette said faintly. "I hope you're not going to do anything awful to me."
"The ghost is Silhouette Mundane," Cube said. "The demoness is D. Metria. Now you have been introduced."
"We have," Metria agreed, assuming the form of the ghost. "So why did you haul me out?"
"I think Silhouette and I are going to exchange places for a while. That is, my soul will go with her body, and her soul will be with mine. She would like to explore Xanth, but won't know much about it. I want you to stay with her, invisibly, and protect her from mischief."
The demoness considered. "The thread is sending you to Mundania?"
"It seems to being doing that, yes. It leads directly to Silhouette."
"Remember, there's no magic there. I've been there; you wouldn't like it. I remember when Willow Elf got together with Sean Mundane. She thought love would be enough, but she was isolated in a realm without magic. She didn't even speak their language. She got depressed. They finally had to move back to Xanth. Sean loved her, and of course Xanth is so much better than Mundania anyway, so it worked out. But you could get stuck there with no way to return."
"If the thread sends me there, I'll go there," Cube said. "When it brings me back, I'll return."
"If you return. If anything happens--if you can't make the rendezvous--"
"I just have to trust the thread. So I can accomplish the mission."
"To fulfill the Quest," Metria agreed. "You've got nerve, all right. Very well, I'll do it."
"One other thing," Cube said to the ghost. "Suppose I do something in your world? To change it? What will be the consequence?"
Silhouette made a wry smile. "Since just about everything in my world is bad, what harm can you do? I wouldn't mind if you entirely destroyed it."
"You're sure?"
"Oh, yes! Assuming that we exchange for a day or so, then return, my main objective will be to find a more effective way to kill myself. My father had a drawer full of weapons; I should be able to find one there to do the job. Obviously pills aren't sufficient, but perhaps a knife would be."
"This is one weird attitude," Metria said.
"She means it," Cube said. "You can talk to her while I'm gone. It should appeal to your demonic sense of humor."
"It should," the demoness agreed.
"Are we set?" Cube asked Silhouette.
"I believe so, assuming this works."
"If it works, just walking through each other should do it. And we should be able to exchange back the same way. Shall we make a date for exactly one day hence?"
The ghost looked at her watch. "Midnight. That seems appropriate. Yes, I will be here then."
Cube petted Diamond. "I'll be leaving you for a day, I think. But I hope you will help Silhouette while I'm gone."
The dog wagged her tail.
Then Cube, not nearly as confident as she pretended, nerved herself and approached the ghost. She walked through the form--
And found herself lying on a bed, woozy. A woman was leaning over her. "You're waking!"
"Ungh," she agreed, realizing as she spoke that it was a different language. Fortunately this body understood it, just as the ghost in Xanth had understood the Xanth human language. She recognized the woman as a hired nurse; Mundania had such things.
"We were afraid we had lost you. The stomach pump and counter-medication helped, but you were still fading until two hours ago. Then you began a remarkable recovery. The doctors can't explain it."
"I have unfinished business," Cube said through Silhouette's mouth. That was a serious understatement. She intended to turn Silhouette's world upside down, and make it worth enduring. The worst she could do was
fail.
"We must get you up and about, for the circulation, and some food in you. You are not out of the woods yet."
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, assisted by the nurse. Her head threatened to spin off her neck; she was dangerously dizzy. But in a moment it passed. 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 knobby, 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 rehearsed it in her mind; she wanted to be sure not to muff 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 passion 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 button marked ACCOUNTANT.
"Yes," an unctuous voice said in the earpiece.
"James, this is Silhouette. Be here in half an hour with your figu
res."
"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 assorted 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.