Cube Route (33 page)

    The horse glanced back at her, horrified. But then he stepped close to the pedestal so that she could pick up the jar. The putrid aura of it surrounded them.

    “Back!” Cube rasped, unscrewing the lid. “And out.” She got the lid off. The fetor intensified. She was out of breath, because her chest didn't want to inhale. This stuff must have been spoiling for centuries!

    Charles oriented on the alley and charged. Cube held the jar out front, fogging the air with its miasma. The goblins turned green, which was something normally impossible for them, and fell to either side, gagging. The game preserve was defeating even their madness.

    The goblins thinned out, and they galloped back the way they had come, toward the center of the city. They reached the court with the quantitea--Cube groaned mentally and corrected herself--quantity of teas--and swerved around to proceed forward out of the city. But the turn was too sharp for her; she started to fall out of the saddle, and had to drop the jar and grab the horn. The jar smashed on the ground behind them.

    “Oh, no!” Cube wailed. “I lost our defense!” For the horrible odor was rising and spreading out like an evil cloud, preventing any pursuit from behind, but more goblins were appearing in front.

    Then another bulb flashed in the darkness, making the goblins blink. She had an idea!

    She put her hand to the pouch. “Drek,” she said.

    The dragon slid out and came to rest on the ground beside the horse. “It's okay, Seren,” she said quickly. “Drek Dragon is a friend. He'll help us escape. Drek, this is Seren Horse, another friend. We're surrounded by crazy goblins and need to clear them out so we can escape this city. We need to clear the way with a bad smell.”

    There was the odor of perfume. Drek was pleased to be asked.

    Cube was desperate. “Touch him, Seren,” she said.

    Drek flinched, his tail knotting up. The perfume faded, to be replaced by a smell not unlike the game preserve.

    “Onward!” Cube cried. “We've got to get out of here!”

    The horse leaped forward. Cube hung on to the horn. They galloped down the street past the tea dais.

    “Come on, Drek!” Cube cried. “Follow us!”

    The dragon followed--and the goblins did not follow him. In fact the goblins ahead of them got an early whiff of stench and tumbled over themselves to escape it. The way cleared.

    Soon they escaped the stone city and were back in the forest. Charles slowed to a walk, breathing hard, and Drek came up behind.

    “I'm sorry I had to do that,” Cube called to the dragon. “We needed a stench to brush back the goblins, and you weren't making it. Charles's talent is to give folk painful muscle spasms.”

    Drek assimilated that. For a moment the stench got worse. Then it faded to perfume. He understood the necessity.

    “Now we're going to Castle Zombie to make a delivery,” Cube said. “You might as well ride; you have helped enough.”

    Drek nodded, and soon slid back into the pouch.

    They moved on through the night, and finally found the enchanted path. They were safe, and should be able to make it by dawn.

    Indeed, as the darkness slowly faded in the east, they came into sight of the decrepit castle. “One thing about this,” Cube said. “They won't be remarking on our smell.”

    They stopped at the drawbridge. They had found the thread again, but hadn't been able to see it in the darkness; now it showed the way across the moat.

    A zombie came out to intercept them. “Halsh!” it said.

    “I am Cube,” Cube called. “I have a delivery for Breanna of the Black Wave. It's urgent.”

    “Breanna'sh nosh seeing anyone,” the zombie said.

    “She'll see me.” Cube urged the horse forward across the bridge. He hesitated, tested it with his hoof, concluded it would hold despite its appearance, and trod across.

    “Noo,” the zombie protested.

    The sun was getting ready to rise; they could not afford to get hung up here. “Do it,” Cube murmured.

    The zombie fell, grabbing a leg. They moved on into the castle.

    The thread led upstairs. “Maybe I'd better go alone, from here,” Cube said. “But don't go away, Seren; I'll be back soon.” She dismounted. Then as an afterthought she summoned Metria. “Will you keep Seren company?” she asked as the demoness emerged. “I don't think he's fully comfortable in Castle Zombie.”

    “Who else is?” Metria asked. “Come on, you handsome beast; we'll tour the premises.”

    Cube followed the thread up the stairs. It led to a closed door. Cube knocked. There was no answer.

    She had half a notion what the problem was, so she opened the door and entered the room.

    It was a nursery. A dark young woman was sitting in a rocking chair, holding a still bundle. Tears were running down her face and puddling on the floor.

    “Hello,” Cube said. “I have a delivery to make.”

    The woman's eyes opened. “Go away. I'm in hopeless grief.”

    “You must be Breanna. I am Cube. Here is my delivery.” She put her hand into the pouch. “Amber,” she murmured.

    Baby fingers grasped her forefinger. The infant came out. She floated up into the air, a tenuous soul gathering in its nebulous substance. Very little of the soul had been on Zombie World; the rest had to be drawn in from the remnants left along the way.

    Breanna's eyes focused on the soul. “You're delivering a ghost?” she asked bleakly. “The ghost of my dead baby?”

    “Not exactly. This is the soul of your live baby.”

    “My--!”

    The soul, now complete, oriented and floated to the bundle in Breanna's arms. It overlapped it, then infused it.

    The bundle stirred. The baby cried.

    “For sure!” Breanna said in glad wonder.

    “The stork got confused,” Cube explained. “Somehow it delivered the body here, and the soul to Castle Zombie on Zombie World. I happened to be passing through, so I brought it here.” As she spoke, the first light of the rising sun showed, sending a beam slanting through the window. “Her name is Amber Dawn, because of her color and the time of her delivery. Her magic talent is to produce a sticky resin that can trap debris, insects, enemies, or whatever else it contacts, hardening and preserving them for later use. I understand her father was a tree, so that relates.”

    “Amber Dawn,” Breanna repeated blissfully. “Oh, I'm so glad! I thought she was dead.”

    “I made it in time,” Cube said. “It had to be by dawn.”

    “By dawn,” Breanna agreed.

    “I'll be on my way now,” Cube said. “I'm sorry I had to break in on you, but the delivery just couldn't wait.”

    “I understand,” Breanna said. “Don't go yet; we have a celebration to make.”

    “Really, I don't--”

    But Breanna, now fully recovered from her grief, insisted. Soon they were with Justin Tree, who was as surprised and pleased as his wife. He had been out walking in the forest, finding some solace among the familiar trees. They had suffered a night of horror, knowing no way to fix the problem.

    In the end, all of the Companions had to come out and join the celebration. Charles Horse was invited too; after all, he had enabled Cube to make it in time.

    “I'm a demon,” Metria murmured to Cube. “But I do have half a soul, and a child of my own. I know how it is.” She wiped away a tear.

    That about covered it.

Inversion

    Next morning Cube really had to move on, and now Breanna let her. She and Justin Tree gathered with Amber Dawn to see Cube and Charles off, with the other Companions back in the sack, as they put it. “I couldn't let you go yesterday,” Breanna said. “There was too much grief and too much joy. Now there is only joy, and I can return to wondering about zombies and talents.”

    “Zombies and talents?”

    “Some zombies keep the magic talents they have in life. Others lose them. I've been trying to figure out the rule. It doesn't relate to how healthy they were when zombied, or how long they are zombies, or whether they are male or female, or person or animal. I just can't figure it out, and it drives me crazy in off moments. Millie and the Zombie Master surely know, but I never remembered to ask them while they were here.”

    “Do zombies keep their souls?”

    “Yes, though these tend to be somewhat battered. They need some soul to remain the people they were, to the extent possible.”

    “Do talents connect to the body or the soul?”

    “That varies,” Justin said. “Some relate to the body, and others to the soul. There seems to be no consistent rule for that.”

    “Could that account for the difference in zombie talents?”

    Breanna stared at her. “The difference in connections,” she breathed. “That must be it!”

    “That must be it,” Justin agreed. “If a talent is tied to the body, it is lost when the body dies. But if it is tied to the soul, then it is retained, since the soul doesn't die.”

    “You're amazing,” Breanna said. “You ask one question, and you solve the riddle that's been bugging us for years.”

    Cube shook her head. “I can't take credit. I have a magic pacifier that is serendipitous. Actually Seren has it now, but it affects us both. I wasn't looking for an answer for you, I was just curious--and found what I wasn't looking for.”

    “The answer,” Breanna agreed.

    “That would be a useful item,” Justin remarked.

    Cube had a bright idea. “If you would like to have it, I'll give it to you. But there's a problem: whoever has it is called Seren, short for serendipity.”

    “I find that hard to believe,” Breanna said. “No offense.”

    Cube removed the pacifier from the saddle and handed it to her. “Say your name.”

    “Seren.” Then the woman looked surprised. “You're right.”

    “Yes. So it's awkward to have, if your name makes a difference. But its surprises are usually nice ones. It helped me a lot.”

    Amber Dawn's little hand came out and grabbed the pacifier. She put it in her mouth and sucked contentedly on it.

    “Seren,” Breanna said reprovingly to the baby. “We don't know if that's sanitary.” Then she looked surprised again. “Oh, no!”

    “The name returns when the pacifier goes. It's not lost, just superseded for a while.”

    Breanna caught the loop in the pacifier and pulled it from the baby's mouth. “I don't care if it does return, I want to be able to say my baby's name.”

    The baby opened her mouth and bawled.

    “Oh, no,” Breanna repeated. “She likes it.” She winced, and gave it back. The baby settled down contentedly.

    “Maybe when she's older, she won't need it for its quieting magic,” Cube said.

    “Let's hope.”

    “Perhaps the pacifier itself was seeking a baby,” Justin said. “So that it could perform its primary function.”

    Cube and Breanna stared at him, and at the baby. That made sudden sense. The pacifier's original baby had grown up.

    At last Charles (with his own name back) and Cube (with hers) resumed their journey.

    The thread led north along an enchanted path. They didn't hurry, as Cube found she just wanted to be on her Quest, not rushing through any part of it. In fact this Route had already made her understand that she liked going places and meeting people, even if only briefly. She had thought she wanted to be beautiful and have fantastic adventures; she still wanted to be beautiful, but now she had had some reasonably fantastic adventures, and some routine ones, and it seemed that the routine ones had their points too.

    Near noon they came to a wayside stop. A girl was already there, sitting at a table. “Will you join me?” she called. “I have lots of incidentals.”

    “Well, I don't know,” Cube said, uncertain what mischief there might be in unnamed incidentals. Also, the girl was prettier than Cube, as all girls were, and that nagged her.

    “Oh, what a handsome horse!”

    That decided Charles. He veered to the table, and Cube didn't argue. “Yes, we'll join you. I'm Cube, and this is Charles.”

    “I'm Etcetera. What does Charles prefer to eat?”

    Cube realized that she hadn't been with Charles long enough to see him eat. “I think some nice grain, or fresh hay.”

    “Etcetera,” the girl said, and a pan of grain appeared along with a bale of hay and a salt block and bucket of clear water.

    Charles sniffed the collection, and started in, satisfied.

    “And what would you like?” the girl inquired.

    She was evidently a conjurer. “Oh, a sweet roll, some boot rear--”

    “Etcetera.” And on the table were not only sweet rolls and glasses of drink, but several cookies and pastries, together with assorted apples, bananas, and other fruits.

    “Your talent!” Cube exclaimed. “Et Cetera!”

    “Exactly,” the girl agreed. “Someone else has to start it, then I can add on to it. I can't do it purely on my own.”

    “Talents often do have limits,” Cube agreed. “Mine is summoning nickelpedes. I would rather have a more feminine talent.”

    “Why?”

    Oh. “I'm a girl.”

    Etcetera looked at her more closely, then blushed fetchingly. “Oh. I thought--never mind.”

    Cube knew she just had to get beautiful.

    As they ate, a white rabbit hopped close. “Oh, what a lovely bunny!” the girl exclaimed.

    The rabbit's ears blushed flattered pink.

    “He's probably just looking for scraps,” Cube said.

    The rabbit's ears turned angry red.

    Could it be? Cube decided to experiment. “You're a pretty sorry example of your kind,” she said to the rabbit.

    The rabbit's ears turned black with mortification. It was true: they changed color with the creature's mood.

    “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean that. I just wanted to see your ears change.”

    The rabbit gazed at her, his ears slowly fading to neutral gray.

    “Let's get him some nice cabbage,” Cube said.

    “Etcetera!” And cabbage appeared, along with lettuce, carrots, and parsley.

    The rabbit's ears turned happy white. He started eating the lettuce.

    A wolf appeared at the edge of the forest. The rabbit's ears turned fearful yellow.

    “A dangerous creature can't come onto the enchanted section,” Cube said. “He can't get you.”

    The rabbit's ears returned to white. He resumed eating. But then he paused, his ears turning green.

    “Oh, some broccoli or asparagus must have gotten in there,” Etcetera said, chagrined. “I'm so sorry.”

    “Have a bite of apple,” Cube said, putting one down for the rabbit. That soon put the ears right.

    When they finished their meal, Cube thanked Etcetera and mounted Charles to travel on. The rabbit's ears turned sad blue; he was sorry to see them go.

    Then Cube saw another woman coming from the other direction. There was something odd about her. Her hair was moving in an unnatural manner. As she walked under a low-hanging mass of foliage, her hair lifted up to push it away. She had prehensile hair!

    As Cube rode on, she saw the woman pause by the rabbit, then squat down. Her hair reached out to stroke him. The rabbit's ears turned white. He wasn't blue anymore. That made Cube feel better.

    They continued north. Suddenly a cloud formed before Cube's face. “My, you're an ugly one,” it said.

    At first Cube thought it was Metria, but then remembered that the demoness was in the pouch. “Look who's talking.”

    The cloud formed into a handsome man. “How do you like me now? Demon Lete, just drifting by.”

    Cube thought she heard a groan. “D. Lete,” she said. “Why don't you subtract your presence?”

    “I can't,” he said. “I gave up my talent to be the prize that Kim Mundane won.”

    Cube remembered that Kim had the talent of erasure. “You didn't do that voluntarily.”

    Lete looked abashed. “I was in one of Demon Professor Grossclout's classes, and I sassed him. Then he taught me a lesson I wouldn't forget. He deleted my talent.”

    That was a pretty stringent punishment. Cube had some sympathy. “I'm sorry.”

    “Oh, I'm sure I deserved it.” The demon faded.

    Cube made a mental note never to cross Demon Professor Grossclout.

    In the evening they came to another campsite. This time there were two men there. Cube was slightly wary, but reminded herself that no hostile folk could get on the enchanted paths, and anyway, she had her nickelpedes, which she could surely use if she jumped off the path and summoned them. So she put a positive face on it. “Is there room for one more?” she called.

    “Certainly,” the older man replied. He looked to be about forty-seven. “I'm Terry Tamagni. My son Jerry and I were about to swim in the pool. You're welcome to join us.”

    Cube dismounted. “I'm a girl.” She hated having to say that so often.

    “Oh,” Terry said, embarrassed. “I--we're rather new here. Still finding our way.”

    “In fact we're Mundane,” Jerry said.

    That meant they were here without magic. They were worse off than she was.

    “Nice horse,” Terry said.

    “I changed my mind,” Cube said. “I'll swim with you, if you don't mind.”

    The two men exchanged a glance. “No problem,” Jerry said. He looked to be about twenty-four, a nice age.

    So they stripped and swam, and splashed each other, and it was fun. Then they dried and harvested assorted pies for dinner, and talked about this and that. Cube found that she enjoyed socializing with men as well as women, when it was just companionship. These ones were nice enough. She had never actually played with men before; there had always been the problem that they saw her as a woman--or didn't. With Mundanes it didn't seem to be a question. She was happy to answer their questions about Xanth, reassuring them that it was a nice enough place to be.

    In the morning the men continued on south, and Cube and Charles went north. In due course they came to the Gap Chasm. This time the thread led directly across it, straight from one side to the other, though the air.

    Cube contemplated that. Then she put her hand to the pouch. “Metria.”

    The demoness appeared. “No problem,” she said. “It's the invisible bridge. Just walk on across.” She slid back into the pouch.

    Invisible bridge. Cube nerved herself and reached tentatively forward over the emptiness with one foot. And found solidity. In fact there was a walkway there, and a rail for her hand. That helped.

    She walked out over the dizzily deep chasm, leading Charles, who was as nervous about it as she was. The bridge was strong; it supported them both.

    When they were halfway across, they encountered a column of people going the other way. Oh, no! The bridge was wide enough only for one, and Charles would not be able to turn around. She might summon Karia to take her on across, but that wouldn't do for Charles.

    The lead man spied them and halted. “We have a problem,” he said.

    “Hello. I'm Cube, and this is Charles. I don't think he can turn around.”

    “We're on a schedule; we can't afford to back off and wait for you to clear the bridge. We'll have to pass each other. But there's a problem.”

    “Not enough room,” Cube agreed.

    “I think there is room, if we squeeze. But we are blessed, or cursed, with magic that prevents any person from passing us without guessing our first names. We're not allowed to tell others what they are.”

    “It could take me all day to guess all your names!” Cube protested.

    “Not necessari--lee,” he said.

    Was that a groan in the back of her mind? Cube pondered half a moment, and got it: pun names. He had given her the hint.

    She looked more closely at the first Lee. He was tall and thin. “Thin,” she said.

    “ThinLee. You catch on quickly,” he agreed, angling to slide by her and then the horse. There was after all room, with a squeeze. Cube didn't mind squeezing by a man like that, innocent as it was; she could pretend it wasn't innocent.

    The second Lee was a plump smiling woman. “Cheerful,” Cube said.

    “CheerfulLee,” the woman agreed, pushing past her. Cube's pretending turned off.

    The next was a frowning man. “I ought to just push you off the bridge,” he said angrily.

    “Angry,” she said.

    Angrily he shoved by her. She pretended he was afraid she would seduce him.

    Soon enough she and Charles made it by all the Lees, and she never had to summon a nickelpede and Charles never needed to knot a muscle. Her mind had done the job. That pleased her.

    But the travail of passage across the gulf had not ended. A cloud appeared, low and small and wild. “Fracto?” Cube inquired. “I'm not looking for any trouble.”

    A fuzzy face formed on the cloud. “Die!” it breathed. Then it blew out such a stiff gust of chill wind that Cube had to grab on to the invisible rail to keep her place.

    “What are you doing?” she cried, alarmed.

    “Keeping my own,” the cloud said windily. Then it blew a harder and colder gust right at Cube and the horse. There was snow in it, and ice formed on the rail, making it slippery. The force of wind made the bridge swing and start to turn over.

    “Fornax!” Cube cried, catching on. But it did her no good; she and Charles were already falling off the bridge, down toward the awful bottom of the chasm. They were doomed. No one would know why they had fallen from the bridge and perished.