But he was here at the ghost's behest, and there was merit in Gawain's position. "I'll try to accomplish your purpose. But I won't rush it. It's not that I want to sponge off your estate, it's that I think you have a better wife than you appreciate, and I want it to be right."
"I want it to be right, too," Gawain said, sounding aggrieved. "I want my son to have the best of everything."
Norton didn't comment. As he came to understand the forces operating here, he did not feel more at ease. But there seemed to be no better way through this than to remain here, get to know Orlene, and do what the ghost wanted when the occasion was propitious. Then move on quickly, lest he become too much attached. How much easier this would have been if the girl had been a gold digger or a slut!
He closed his eyes, and Gawain did not speak again.
Soon Norton was asleep, drowned in the comfort of the mudbath bed.
He dreamed he was back at the puzzle-window, trying to place a piece. As he stared at it, assessing its contours, those contours changed, coming to resemble the outline of a nude woman—and the woman had hair like honey, and breasts the same. He tried to avert his eyes from that ineffable sweetness, embarrassed. It was not that he had any aversion to such a body; it was that he felt he was violating Orlene's modesty.
But the shape expanded to life size, showing more detail, becoming the living, breathing woman, naked and appallingly desirable. He tried to set her down—for his hand was still on the piece, grasping it where he had no right to grasp—but found himself drawn in toward her. In a moment he would fall through the piece, into the world of the puzzle—and where would he be then? Desperately he pushed her away—and she fell to the floor and broke into a thousand puzzle fragments, and he knew these could never be reassembled, no matter how hard he tried to fit every bit together.
He woke—and Orlene was there, her arm about his shoulders as she sat on the bed. Her warm breast pressed against his upper arm, soft through the material of her apparel and his. "Wake, wake, Norton, it's all right!" she soothed.
If she had a baby and it screamed in the night, even so would she comfort it—and what baby could be better off?
"I'm awake," he said. "You don't need to—you shouldn't be here."
"I couldn't let you suffer," she said. "Was it the ghost again?"
"No, not this time. Just a bad dream. I'm afraid I'm not very good company."
"You were glowing so brightly!"
He coughed. "That's a false glow! I dreamed of you—that I destroyed you, without meaning to."
"No, the glow isn't wrong," she insisted. "I know you are right for me. In fact, if I weren't already married—" She broke off, out of sorts. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that!"
"I think I shouldn't stay here any longer," Norton said. "You are so nice—I would never want to be the instrument of—of any problem for you."
"You won't be," she said confidently. "I know."
She believed in her glow. But his dream had been compelling. In past times supposedly sensible men had disparaged dreams as mere visions of internal events, but recent research had verified their magical properties. He could not be sure this dream was prophetic, but he didn't want to take the chance. "All the same, I think it would be better if I left."
"Oh, please, Norton, don't do that!" she exclaimed. "It's so difficult to be alone all the time! You're the first who's right. I'll do anything you want—"
"Orlene, I'm not trying to coerce you! I'm trying to protect you. From me, maybe. And I think I can do that best by leaving you."
"It's morning," she said abruptly. "I'll fix us breakfast."
"Thank you. Then I'll go."
She disengaged, stood, and hurried out. Norton got up, used the various facilities of the bathroom—and discovered that his clothes were gone. Orlene had evidently taken them for cleaning. The perfect housewife! "What do I do now?" he asked himself rhetorically.
"You use my clothing," Gawain replied. "It will fit you well enough. I had more muscle, but our frames are similar."
Norton realized he had no choice. Assisted by the ghost, he donned trousers, shirt, slippers, and an elegant robe. All of the clothing was of fine material and well made, and little golden dragons were embroidered on each item. "You are rich, aren't you!" he muttered.
"Definitely," Gawain agreed. "I'm not in the Five Hundred, but I was a candidate. If I had lived long enough—" The ghost broke off, looking momentarily pensive. "My son will never lack for material things. He'll be able to buy himself a Senatorial seat, if he wants to. I understand politics is more lucrative than dragon slaying."
"Good for your child," Norton said shortly. "I'm not sure I'm going to sire it."
"Orlene won't let you go," the ghost warned. "She knows you're the one."
"How can she stop me from leaving?"
Gawain pursed his lips. "You've got something to learn about the wiles of women!"
Norton brushed on out to rejoin Orlene, in no fit temper.
She had breakfast ready: bright green pancakes fresh from the Venusian fungus farm, and what appeared to be genuine beehive honey. That figured. He had to smile, and his mood abated. He joined her at the cozy dinette table.
Suddenly it seemed very domestic. He had never been the domestic type, but it was nice enough now. Orlene was very fetching in a green housecoat, her hair tied back with a scarlet ribbon. Green coat, honey hair, matching the pancakes and honey; did she do that unconsciously? But the ribbon—
Scarlet? "You know, there's an old song about scarlet ribbons—"
"Yes," she agreed. "I'll play it for you after breakfast."
"You have it on tape?"
She smiled obscurely. "No."
After breakfast she showed him to another room. There was a baby grand piano there. She sat down before it and played beautifully.
"How did you come by talent like that?" he asked, impressed, as she finished the piece.
"It's not talent. I've been practicing since I was six years old, and more since I've been married. It helps to wile away the time; I don't feel so much alone when I'm playing. Anyway, musical skill is the fashion for debutantes."
"You were a debutante? How did you get into—this?"
"The ghost marriage? My family arranged it, but I didn't object. Gawain's family is very well connected, and I want the best for my children too. This was the best marriage I could make."
"But to a dead man!"
"Well, a ghost doesn't make many demands on a girl. I think of it as like being widowed early, except there's no grief. I never knew him in life."
"But to—you have to—"
"I always did want a family. That would be the same if he were alive."
"If he were alive, you would have known what you were getting. This way—"
"I do know," she said. "This way I have a choice. The best possible father for my children, regardless of the accidents of lineage or wealth."
"The glow? Frankly, I doubt—"
She grimaced prettily. "You prove the ghost exists, and I'll prove the glow does."
Actually, he believed she saw the glow; he had noticed it at work on the puzzle. But he also remembered his nightmare. The two might cancel out, her positive vision and his negative one, leaving the future in serious doubt. "Why don't you just give me back my own clothes so I can leave? Then neither of us will have to prove anything."
"Do you really want to leave?"
"No. That's why I'd better."
"And they talk about female logic!"
He had to smile. "I'm trying to do the right thing, as I see it, though I admit I'm not seeing it very well right now. It would be too easy to like you too well. I don't think that's what I'm here for."
"Like me too well for what?"
"To love you and leave you."
She was silent a moment, looking at him, and he feared he had spoken too directly. She had married a ghost; what could she know of the intimate way of man and woman? "Do you have to leave?"
"Of course I have to! I'm only here for a—"
"But it will take some time to know that the job is done."
He hadn't thought of that. "You would want me to stay—after?"
"I think so."
"You're that sure of me? When you hardly know me?"
"Yes. The glow doesn't lie."
"Then I guess we'd better exchange our proofs." He had no doubt that both ghost and glow would be verified to the other party's satisfaction; this was really an excuse to change his mind. Orlene had conquered him without using wiles.
"I really don't want the proof," she said. "Too many other people have claimed to see the ghost. I was only making a point."
Norton sighed. "I'm afraid I do need proof. To justify myself. The ghost of Gawain asked me to come here, and I want you to believe that. That has become important to me—that I'm not an imposter or opportunist. I don't care how much I glow; it's my motive I'm establishing."
"But how can you prove a ghost that only you can see?"
"For one thing, others can see him too. We have only to ask them."
"No, I know they all tell the same story, to tease me. Women are supposed to be so credulous!"
Norton considered. "Very well. Since this is Gawain's estate, he should be conversant with every detail of it. He should be able to tell me things I would have no other way of knowing. Ask me questions only he could answer."
She frowned. "Do you really insist on this, Norton?"
"I really do. I must prove to you what brought me here. I don't want you to take my word."
She considered, cocking her head to one side so that her tresses fell partway across her face. That was, he thought, a fetching effect, making a partial mystery other features that enhanced their appeal. "I haven't been into everything here yet and I'm sure you haven't. Suppose he calls off the items in—" She glanced about. "In that storage chest?" She indicated an ornate chest beside the piano.
"I'll ask him," Norton agreed. "I'll have to go to another room, though, to talk to him, because Gawain says he can't be in the same room with you."
"I doubt he's in the same world with me!"
"Maybe I can stand in the doorway and talk to you both. Will that be all right?"
"Whatever you wish." She obviously expected nothing to come of this.
Norton went to the doorway between the two rooms. Orlene remained at the piano.
"Hey, Gawain!" Norton called. "Will you appear?" He was afraid the ghost would embarrass him by avoiding this test.
Gawain popped into sight. "Good notion, Norton! I'll be happy to prove my existence to her!"
"Good enough. Orlene, he's here. Ask a question."
"You can see him?" she asked, rising and approaching the doorway.
"Yes. But don't go into the other room; he'll vanish."
She stopped at the doorway. "I don't see him."
"But he can see you," Norton said.
"Even when you're not looking?"
"Certainly," Gawain said.
"He says yes," Norton reported.
"Very well. Let's try this: you close your eyes and face away from me, and let him tell you what I'm doing."
"All right." Norton faced the ghost and closed his eyes.
"She's holding her right hand above her head," Gawain said.
"He says you're holding your right hand over your head."
"Now she's writing in the air, script—I can't read it, it's backward."
Norton relayed that.
"Oh," Orlene said, startled.
"Okay, she's turned around," the ghost said. "Now I can read over her shoulder. THIS pause I S pause R I D I C U L O U S."
"This is ridiculous," Norton repeated.
She was silent, but he heard rustling.
"Say!" Gawain exclaimed. "She's stripping!"
"She is?" Norton asked, startled in his turn.
"Great galumphing dragons!" the ghost said. "I'm sorry I'm not alive! I had no idea she had architecture like that!"
"He says you're—undressing," Norton said. "He says you have an excellent figure."
"Oops, that did it," Gawain said regretfully. "She covered up in a hurry. Man, I wish I was in your shoes!"
"He says—"
"I can guess!" Orlene snapped.
"Well, he is your husband," Norton said. "And since he can't share a room with you, he has not before had an opportunity to see—"
"Unladylike remark," she said. "What's in that chest by the piano?"
Norton lowered his hands; he had unconsciously brought them up to cover his closed eyes. "Gawain, will you tell us—"
The ghost shrugged. "The truth is, I don't remember. I was mostly out slaying dragons. A housekeeper took care of the apartment."
"He says he doesn't remember," Norton reported.
"I thought as much!"
"But I could check," Gawain said. "Let her leave that room, and I'll tally the contents now."
"He says he'll check now," Norton said, "if you'll just step into the other room."
Orlene passed him and entered the other room. As she did so, the ghost vanished—and reappeared in the room she had vacated. Gawain walked to the chest and plunged his hand in through the polished wood. "What do you know," he remarked brightly. "My old trophies! Best dragon kill of the year—that sort of thing. These should be up on the mantel on full display!"
Norton relayed that. "Oh?" Orlene asked. "Let me see." She walked back into the room, switching places with the ghost, and tried to lift the lid. It didn't budge. "It's locked."
"The key's in my bedroom," Gawain said. "In the left dresser drawer, if the fool maid hasn't moved it."
Norton told Orlene, who went and fetched the key, then unlocked the chest. Inside were trophies, exactly as described. "It's true!" she said. "You couldn't have known, Norton! I didn't know! Unless you got the key last night and—but no, the chest is undisturbed."
"Ask anything else," Norton suggested. "I'm sure we can satisfy you."
"I'll try one other thing," she decided. "What's Gawain's sister's name?"
"I have no sister," Gawain said.
"He says he has no—"
"What's his mother's maiden name?"
"Thrimbly."
"Thrimbly," Norton said.
"When did she get married?"
"June fourteenth," Gawain said. "Three-thirty in the afternoon, in a private ceremony. The minister was the Reverend Q. Lombard. The wedding cake had a dragon rampant on it, breathing a column of firewater. All the guests got tanked on that water, including my father; he passed out, and my mother didn't speak to him for the first week of the honeymoon. I was lucky to get conceived!"
Norton repeated the continuing details. Orlene raised her hands in surrender. "You see the ghost! I've got to concede that! Now it's my turn to prove the glow."
"Just what is the glow?" Norton asked. "Do I light the shadows?"
"No, not like that. It's—well, have you heard of the animal-spell people? The ones who can shake hands, and the hand of the one they meet feels like the appendage of the animal he most closely resembles? A wolf's paw, a barracuda's fin, or a snake's scale? Actually, that's figurative; animals aren't like that, not with the bad qualities. But with this magic, the person can tell if another is vicious, greedy, sneaky, or whatever. Well, with me it's vision. I can tell who is the perfect companion, for me or for someone else. I see the aura illuminate. I have to set my mind to tune in to one person, then view the others through his situation, if you see what I mean."
Norton shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't. I know I'm not special; there have to be many better marriage prospects than I."
"But you aren't a marriage prospect. You're a—"
"Never mind what I am! I begin to see your point. You actually do need a love-'em-and-leave-'em guy."
"A nonmarrying guy. And most of those aren't worth much as persons. You are. Of course, if I weren't married, and wanted a husband, my situation would be different. I would want not only a good
lover but also a good provider. You might not glow so strongly then."
"I'm sure I wouldn't! I'm broke!"
"So it does require some tuning in. When I first saw you, you glowed so brightly I knew you were the one—and I wasn't ready. I thought I might have tuned in inaccurately. I mean, I knew what I had to do, but it was so sudden. I knew my life had changed and that the time to conceive the heir had come. Now I'm getting used to it; I think those hours on the puzzle helped, and soon—"
"Why don't we take a walk outside, and you can show me how your glow works on others," Norton suggested.
"All right. Let me get into street clothes." She hurried to her bedroom.
Gawain reappeared. "Now you're making progress!" the ghost said with satisfaction. "I was able to listen through the wall this time; I can't always do that."
"Damn it, must you see it as Just that one thing?"
"Certainly. That's what you're both here for, isn't it? To beget my heir?"
"I don't know. If I go through with this, I'm afraid I'll leave more than my seed behind."
"Oh, don't get maudlin about it," Gawain said. "You've probably had almost as many women as I have! Think of it as one more dragon to be slain."
"She's no dragon!"
"Oh, I don't know. Women and dragons—I'd call them two of a kind."
"You don't love her?"
"Of course not! I'm dead!"
"I could love her. I don't want to hurt her."
"Then don't hurt her! Give her what she needs—a son."
"I had a dream that I destroyed her. I worry about that."
"You can't hurt her if you leave her after it's done."
"Some people are hurt worse by being left," Norton muttered.
"Don't worry. She'll have the very best care money can buy, courtesy of my estate."
"I wasn't thinking of physical hurt, necessarily. She's a young, vibrant girl. I don't think she can give herself to a man without giving all of herself. She—"
He paused, for Gawain had vanished. Orlene stood in the doorway. She was dressed in a modest green street skirt with matching jacket and hat and shoes, and now looked very businesslike. Her fair hair was pinned back with green barrettes. Somehow all that green reminded him of the breakfast pancakes, of the park scene in the puzzle, and of the lovely wilderness itself. "The ghost again?" she asked.
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