Cube Route (2 page)

    She entered the camp, and found a nice little stream cutting across a corner, with assorted pie plants growing by its bank. There was a curtained shelter made of soft cottonwood beside a pillow bush. She was about to pick a nice apple pie when she heard something. She paused, listening.

    It was footsteps. Someone else was coming to the camp, from the other direction. Cube wasn't sure whether to be nervous; would it be a nice person, or not?

    It turned out to be a handsome young man with blue hair. He spied her as he entered the camp, and waved. “Hi! I'm Ryver.”

    That was straightforward. “I'm Cue--Cube.”

    “I didn't know anyone would be here. Is it okay to share?”

    What could she say? She was nervous about strangers, yet he seemed nice enough. If he was as nice as he looked, he was exactly the kind of company she wanted. “Of course.”

    Then he paused, glancing at her more closely. “You're a girl!”

    He had been in doubt? “And you're a boy.”

    Ryver evidently realized that he had been clumsy. “Uh, I mean--”

    “Never mind. Make yourself at home.” But they had gotten off to an awkward start. Which was the way it usually was, with her, with men.

    He looked at the shelter. “Share that too?”

    “Of course.” Staying the night with a young man--how nice it could have been, if only she were the kind of girl to make a boy get ideas.

    Nevertheless, after they had eaten, they harvested pillows and settled in the cottonwood shelter. Each plank was full of soft cotton, and the pillows made it that much more comfortable. It was dark outside, but there was a faint glow from the walls so that they could see well enough. “Wanta talk or sleep?” Ryver asked. Then, realizing that sounded wrong, he tried to backtrack. “I mean--”

    “Talk,” she said quickly. “Tell me about yourself.” Because then she could listen and pretend she was part of his life.

    “Sure. I'm twenty-three years old and on my own. My name's Ryver because of my talent. I can work with water. You know--make water balls and things. What's your talent?”

    She had to tell him. “Nickelpedes. I can summon and direct them.”

    “Say, that's great! Can you make them go away, if you have to go through a cave or something?”

    “Yes.”

    “That must be fun. Everybody's afraid of nickelpedes.”

    “Yes.” Which was the problem. So she changed the subject. “Where are you from? Where are you going?”

    “I'm going nowhere in particular. I just like to travel. So I'm coming from home and going back there. Nothing much else to do. Last night I met a pretty girl with the talent of negativity; that was a frustration.”

    “She had a bad attitude?”

    “Not at all. She was nice. She said she expected to have a hot night with me, and I liked that idea. But then we slept in separate cabins and had nothing to do with each other.”

    Cube wished he had a similar idea about her, but of course he didn't. “Why?”

    “Her talent reversed her expectation. What she thinks of won't happen, and it didn't. I was just as annoyed as she was, but I couldn't get close to her.”

    If only he wanted to get close to Cube! “Why didn't she announce that the two of you would never get together?”

    Ryver stared at her. “She never thought of that. Neither did I. What a waste!” He shook his head. “How about you?”

    It kept coming back to her, and not in any way she liked, which was exactly where she didn't want it. But she had to answer. “I'm just a dull village girl. I'm going to see the Good Magician.”

    “That so? What's your Question?”

    Ryver was a bit too open for her taste, being short on sensitivity in the masculine manner. Now she was stuck with the answer. “How can I be beautiful.”

    “That makes sense,” he agreed. Then, yet again, he caught up to the awkwardness too late. “I mean--”

    “I know.”

    There was another ungainly silence. Finally he broke it. “That's my problem. I keep saying the wrong thing.”

    “I'm used to it.”

    “I guess so. But you know, sometimes things work out anyway. They did for my folks.”

    “Oh?”

    “My mother, Lacuna--she liked this man, but he didn't notice her, so nothing came of it. Then his life didn't work out, and hers didn't, and she wished it had happened differently, but it was too late. They had both ruined their lives by not getting together.”

    “But then she found your father,” Cube said.

    “Not exactly. He was the one she liked, who married someone else and made a mess of it.”

    “A mess? But in Xanth marriages always work out.”

    “Marriages last, yes. But she was a mean woman, so he was stuck, and probably wished he hadn't done it. Certainly my mother wished he hadn't. So she made it a Question to the Good Magician. He wasn't there, then, but Magician Grey was substituting, and he told her she should have proposed to Vernon.”

    “That wasn't much help! How long had it been?”

    “Twelve years. And of course she couldn't go back. But then she got a wish, and she wished she had proposed to him, and then she discovered her change of life.”

    “Change of life?”

    “Yes. When she got home, she was married to him, and I was her first male child. She calls it her retroactive marriage. I mean, she changed the past, with her wish, and then just sort of stepped into how her life would have been, and now really was. I get confused when I think about it too much.”

    “That's not surprising.”

    “But anyway, it all worked out well, for my folks and for me. I had a good childhood, after having been alone for ten years. I mean, that change of life affected me too, so I had no longer lived alone, and that was great, but I remembered some of how it had been, so I was really grateful. Except for Lacky, my big sister who never existed; I still miss her. Does that make sense?”

    Cube pondered it. Vernon must have had a daughter in the bad marriage, who was undone by the change, and Ryver retained some memory of her. Changes of life did have consequences. “I think so. If I could somehow change my past, and make myself be delivered beautiful, I'm sure I'd be grateful, if I remembered my present life.”

    “Right. That's how it is with me. I hope the Good Magician comes through for you.”

    He seemed sincere, and she realized that she liked him. He was sometimes socially clumsy, but he had a good heart. “I hope so too.” Then she got bold, which often as not got her into trouble. That was the liability of gumption. “If--if he has an Answer for me, and I get beautiful, maybe after I work my year off--where will you be?”

    He looked at her in the dim light. “I'm afraid I'll say something stupid. I do that often enough. Maybe I don't understand your question.”

    “I'm twenty years old and have always been, well, plain. I'd like to--to have a relationship with a good man. Just as your mother did. She changed her reality and got it after she thought she'd lost it. If I got beautiful--would you care to be the man?”

    He considered for a full moment, which was the time required for the average man to make such a decision. “Sure.”

    “I mean, I'd have the same personality. The same talent. I'd be the same person. Only lovely.”

    “That's what makes the difference.”

    How unfortunately true. He didn't care about her character, just about her appearance. He really was a typical man. “So if it works out for me, as it did for your mother, maybe I'll come to your house.”

    “Sure. Just ask for Ryver. Everybody in my area knows the water boy.”

    This seemed too easy. Did it mean he thought she was joking, or that he didn't believe she'd ever be beautiful? Was he humoring her so as to get rid of her without making a scene? Had she just made a worse fool of herself than she thought? Maybe she should cancel it now. “Of course, if--”

    “Let me give you something, so you can find me better. When you come, I mean.”

    He was taking it seriously! “Oh, you don't need to--”

    “I'll fetch it from the river.” He got up and stepped out of the shelter.

    Bemused, she followed. Now she saw that the rest of the camp was outlined with glow, including its internal paths, for the convenience of travelers. What could he give her, that was from the water?

    At the river, he leaned down and swooped one hand through the water. He shaped something with his other hand. Then he offered it to her. “Here.”

    She couldn't quite make it out in this light. It seemed to shimmer. “What is it?”

    “A water ball.” He put it into her hands.

    She held it. It was indeed a ball, cool and soft, but it couldn't be water because it held its shape. Yet she had seen him swoop it from the river. “How--?”

    “I told you: my talent is water. I can shape it into things, and it will keep. Show that to anyone in my neighborhood, and they'll know I gave it to you. If you get caught without water, you can drink some of it, but don't drink it all. If you get tired of it, return it to any river or pond. It deserves to be with its own substance.”

    “I won't get tired of it,” she said, amazed. “This is--amazing.”

    He paused. “Maybe I'd better show you the rest.”

    “The rest?”

    He faced away from her, then quickly got out of his clothing. She saw just the shadow of his lean bare backside. What was he up to? Then he jumped into the river and disappeared.

    “Ryver!” she cried, bobbling the water ball. “Where are you?”

    His head appeared, rising from the surface. “Here's my head.”

    She laughed nervously. “And the rest of you, I trust.”

    “Not at the moment, exactly. Feel.”

    “What?”

    “Put your hand down in the water. Feel where I should be.”

    “I can't do that! You're naked!”

    “Not exactly. Feel.”

    Bemused, she held the ball in one hand and put the other down to feel his neck under the surface.

    There was no neck.

    She felt further. There was no body. Just the head.

    “What is this?” she asked, growing alarmed.

    “It's me. I'm made of water.”

    “Made of water!” Realizing that this must be a trick or illusion, she put her hand under the head and lifted it up. It came out of the water, like a shaggy ball.

    “At least, when I enter water,” the head said.

    “Oh!” She was so startled she dropped the head. It splashed into the river and dissolved.

    Then she saw it form again, downstream. This time it came out of the river by itself. His body was under it. She turned her eyes away, lest she see something she shouldn't, even in the darkness. Actually she was old enough, and was a member of the Adult Conspiracy, not that it did her any good. But she lacked experience, because of her appearance.

    In one or two moments--certainly no more than two and a half moments--Ryver had recovered his clothing. “So you see, I'm not a regular man. That is, not when I'm in the water. Originally I was all water, and I longed to become flesh. When I became Lacuna's son, I became flesh--except when I get too close to my origin. I thought maybe you should know that, when you're beautiful, before you come to--to--”

    “To have a relationship,” she finished for him.

    “Yes. This--this has turned off other girls. So if you don't want to do it, I'll understand.”

    Cube looked at the water ball in her hand. He was indeed not a regular man. But was it worse than the way demons were? He just had a more serious relationship with water than she had realized. “I think I can handle it.”

    “That's great!”

    They returned to the shelter. On the way, she thought of something else. “You gave me something. I should give you something. But all I have is--is something you might not want.”

    “What is it?”

    “A rear-view mirror. But I have to tell you, it's not quite what you think, and you can't get rid of it unless you give it away to someone else.”

    “That's okay. Let's see it.”

    She fished the mirror from her pocket and gave it to him. “It's what it shows.”

    “Seems like a regular mirror to me.” He held it up before his face. “Say--what's that?”

    “Your derriere,” she said delicately.

    “Isn't that something!” He changed the position of the mirror, getting a better view in the dim light. “I like it. It reminds me of my early life.”

    “How does it do that?” she asked surprised.

    “When I look back, to see how it was and how it became, it's a rear view. Not quite the same as the front view other folk see. The mirror's like that, maybe.”

    She was relieved. “It's yours, as long as you want it.” She glanced at her ball. “Is it safe to set this down?”

    “No, not exactly. Keep it with you, or with something that's yours, like your clothing. If it leaves you, it will revert. That's why folk will know I gave it to you; no one else can touch it.”

    “That's sweet.”

    “So are you. I hope you get beautiful.”

    On that nice note, they went to sleep. Maybe if she got beautiful she would get to sleep in his arms. As it was, she was satisfied to have their agreement for the future. Maybe it wouldn't work out, but at least she'd be in the game. That would be far more than she had ever had before.

    In the morning they took turns using the sanitary facilities, then had a breakfast of milk and honey pies. Then Ryver went his way, and Cube went her way. Her determination to get beautiful had been reinforced; now she knew exactly what to do with that beauty. Until then, she could dream.

    Outside the camp was a warning sign: DO NOT LAUGH. Cube looked at it and shrugged; she hadn't been planning to laugh anyway.

    As she set forth, a shape looked up beside the path. “Come here and I will really send you,” it called.

    Cube realized it was a male demon. She knew better than to leave the path. “Where will you send me?”

    “To Mundania,” he said, chortling. “I am Demon Port.”

    Demons generally had a simple translation code, except for Metria, who evidently hadn't gotten her word quite right. Demon reduced to D, and the name. That would abbreviate to D. Port, or deport. “No thanks.” And suppose she had laughed? Would she have fallen into the demon's power despite the protection of the path? Now she appreciated the sign's warning.