Gene Wolfe - An Evil Guest

She nodded.

Ebony said, “I’ve got one more question, Mr. Rosenquist. It’s part of my job.”

He brushed it aside and stood up. “Not now. I have to go.”

Cassie said, “I’ve got one, too. Why did you come?”

“I’ve got extensive business interests. A financial empire is what some fool on vid called it. Do you know how such things are run?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“I’ll tell you, and what I’m going to tell you is worth a semester at Harvard Business School. The man at the top — me — has to spend half his time, and half his effort, finding the right people and persuading them to join him. When he finds them, he gives them the authority they need and turns them loose. You know India Dempster, and she’s a fine example of what I mean.”

Ebony said softly, “I see...”

“That’s good. I wanted somebody to organize a show, choose a good cast, and stage it. I found Miss Dempster, offered her an excellent salary, and turned her loose when she accepted it. The result has been outstanding, proving she was the right person for that slot.”

Reis lowered his voice and leaned closer to Cassie. “He spends the other half running around stamping out fires, handling the things his people can’t deal with. When some bastard shoots somebody who works for me, that’s a fire. I’ve come to stamp on it, and I will.”

She had not expected him to kiss her; but he did, crouching until she rose, bending low even when she stood. Much too soon he released her and was gone, threading his way among the tables —

Until he vanished.

Ebony was openmouthed when Cassie sat down. “Did you see that?”

“I guess I did.” The pineapple was good, and Cassie ate a piece. “I’ve heard of people disappearing into a crowd, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it done before.”

“What in the world... ?”

“It might not be good to talk about it. What was it you were going to ask him?”

“About this picture.” Ebony held it up.

“Whether I’m going to call those numbers? No.”

“This man you’re dancing with. I’ve seen him on vid, and there were stories about you two a while back. Isn’t that Dr. Chase?”

Cassie pretended to study the picture more closely. “I think it must be.”

“He’s got Gil’s wooden leg! And you don’t dance with Dr. Chase in the show. You dance with Gil.”

“That’s right, I do.” Cassie decided on the honeydew melon. “What’s Gil’s last name anyway? I’ve forgotten.”

“Corby. He’s Gilbert Corby.”

“Thanks. How does anybody take a picture, Ebony? You have them talk, snap your camera, and stick the wire into your computer. It prints your picture out for you if you want a print like this, or stores it if you don’t. I couldn’t play around with a picture in a computer if my life depended on it, but there are people who can make a computer do anything they want it to. Dr. Chase has been photographed a lot, so putting his face on Gil ought to be pretty easy.”

Ebony nodded. “I guess so.”

“Now put that away and tell me all the stuff I ought to know if I’m ever sent to jail.”

The curtain rose for the final time with Tabbi Merce as Jane Brownlea. Gil Corby stumped over to stand in the wings next to Cassie. “She’s great, isn’t she? Pure gold!”

Cassie could only murmur, “I wish we had Norma back.”

Later, he said, “Hear that applause? That’s box-office gold.”

And still later, while they danced, he whispered, “I think the spot’s the wrong color. They say that in the South Pacific, the moon is gold.”

“Come by my dressing room,” Cassie replied. “I need to talk to you.”

HE knocked, and she rose and let him in. “I bought a new camera,” she said. “My old one’s back home, and it’s not as fancy as the new ones anyway. This could even be too fancy, come to think of it. Will you help me figure it out?”

The camera was on her dressing table. She sat, and bent over it. “The little book says to press this in and twist this, then select the mode. How do you select?”

“Ebony showed me the picture,” he said.

She glanced up at the mirror, and saw Gideon Chase standing behind her. When she turned in her chair, Gil Corby stood there.

“I had to hide.” He sounded hopeless. “Surely you understand, Cassie. They were trying to kill me.”

“You could have told me.”

“You’re right.” He sat down. “I could have, and increased my risk enormously. It would have been of the greatest benefit to you.”

“It would have shown you trusted me.”

“It would. But if we were overheard, or a telephone you thought was safe wasn’t, I would have died. Besides, I thought it might be Reis, and I’ve learned that he can walk unseen. You know about that. Ebony told me when she showed me the picture.”

“Oh, my gosh! Is she blabbing it around?”

“I hope not. I warned her it might be fatal, but she said she’d already told India.”

“India won’t talk.” Cassie relaxed. “Do you know how he does it?”

“In general, yes. He does it in much the same way I changed my appearance. What I did is called a glamour in English. Sir Walter Scott defined it as well as anyone ever has, calling it ‘the power of imposing on the eyesight of the spectators so that the appearance of an object shall be totally different from the reality.’ If you’re asking whether I can do it myself, I can’t. Not presently.”

“But you could learn?”

“Perhaps. If I tried for a year or two, I could probably master it. As it is — well, I haven’t had to evade arrest as much as Reis has.”

Gideon waited for Cassie to speak. When she did not, he said, “Have I answered your questions? About this matter, I mean.”

She shook her head. “It’s just that I don’t know what questions to ask.”

“Then let me say this, although what Reis does is akin to a glamour, it isn’t actually the same thing. It’s much like a glamour in that the change is wholly in perception. There is no change in reality. If Reis were somehow to become perfectly translucent, he would cast no shadow. He would also be blind, although that’s another matter. If I were to cast a glamour on that window so that it appeared to be a featureless section of wall, it would still admit light. Reis still casts a shadow. Is that clear?”

“It’s an illusion,” Cassie said. “I used to know an illusionist. He was a fun guy, and I let him saw me in half one night when his assistant didn’t show up.”

“Exactly. Real magic isn’t stage magic, and stage magic isn’t real magic. Or at least, not often. But they have a lot in common.”

“Is he good? I mean Wally? Is he a good magician? What do you think?”

“I don’t know. All right if I wash my face at your bowl?”

“Makeup? I thought you’d taken that off already.”

Gil shook his head. “The glamour. You suspected me as soon as you saw rain on my face. Remember? Washing’s one of the best ways of breaking the spell. That may be the origin of baptism — another thing I don’t know, though I’d like to. Washing, striking the face with a hazel wand, striking with cold iron, and so on. Just crossing running water will do it sometimes. Wouldn’t you rather I were Gideon Chase?”

Cassie nodded.

“Then I’ll try, with your permission.”

As he was scrubbing his face with her washcloth, she said, “You’re working for Wally now, aren’t you?”

“Yes. For Bill Reis. I’m not a permanent employee, you understand. I’m a consultant, as I was earlier at a much lower figure.”

Something new had occurred to Cassie. “Suppose this room’s bugged?”