Treasure Box

by Orson Scott Card

  Then the girl's face became visible as she finally got to a low enough step, and Quentin realized why Mr. and Mrs. Duncan had looked so familiar. He had seen all three of them before. In the Giant food store on Elden Street, right before his first hallucination of Lizzy.

  "That's right, Quentin," said Roz. "You didn't like me, as I recall."

  "I thought you were an insufferable spoiled brat."

  Roz gave her best cutey-pie grin. "Well, I showed you, didn't I?"

  "Showed me I was right."

  "Showed you what real power is!" Her smile turned vicious. "You had your treasure of a sister in your mind. Comparing her to me. So I made you see her. Drove you crazy with it."

  Quentin glanced at Rowena, sitting in her chair, and Ray Duncan, who had followed his daughter down the stairs and was now sitting on the couch. How were they taking this?

  They both sat staring off into space.

  "I shut them down," said Roz. "There's no reason for them to know all this."

  "You created Madeleine just to torture me for daring to think what's obvious to everyone who sees you?"

  "No, stupid. I showed you your sister because of that. But then, when you were sitting there watching the vision I made for you, what should happen but she turns up!"

  "Who?"

  "Lizzy," said Roz. "Your dead sister. Her spirit. Well, I wasn't calling her. She didn't even notice me. It was you who called her. What a joke on me! You had some of the power! Who would have guessed it?"

  "Nothing like what you can do."

  "Yeah, well, I'm kind of remarkable. The way Uncle Paul was. Only Mother didn't kill me the way Grandmother killed her precious baby boy. That's a nice thing to find in the family closet."

  "You only got your mother's memory of it, with all her misunderstandings."

  "I would have gotten Grandmother's memories directly, but I knew how strong the old lady is. She and Mother were battling it out constantly. That's how I learned half of what I know, watching their struggles to keep each other from watching them. It was easy to take control of Mother—she was completely off her guard. And Father, of course, is just a human."

  "And therefore not worth considering."

  "I need him for a phone call now and then."

  "You're telling me you just improvised all this?"

  "Come on, why not?" said Roz. "You were stronger than most humans. I thought about that for a few minutes and I realized that maybe I could use you to open the treasure box for me."

  "Is that what your mother calls it?"

  "Mother has no idea what it really is or how to use it. Power beyond belief. Grandmother filled her with horror stories about it, but that's because neither of them has a spark of creativity. Me, I think of all kinds of things that no one has ever thought of before. Least of all the dragon. It can be killed, which only sets it free to possess somebody else. It can also be captured, which is what Grandmother did. But I've done research neither of them thought of doing. There are books, if you know how to sort the nonsense from the truth. I'm only eleven, but I'm—how to say it mildly?—the school system calls me 'gifted.' "

  Quentin wanted to smack that smug little mouth.

  "So much for your being a nonviolent kind of guy, right, Quentin?"

  He also hated the way she called him by his first name.

  "What would be better?" she asked. "Should I call you 'Tin'?"

  In that instant, she stopped being a little girl. She was transformed into Madeleine. Quentin's heart leapt in spite of all he knew.

  And then she was Madeleine naked, prancing around the room like a stripper in some cheap movie.

  He had done it before; he could do it now. He forced himself to know that she wasn't real.

  She didn't go away.

  "It's harder to get rid of me," said Madeleine, sitting in Ray's lap and twirling his hair, "when there's a real person inside the shell."

  Harder but not impossible. Quentin remembered the bratty little girl and after a shimmering moment there she was, sitting on her father's lap, twirling his hair.

  "You're a terrible lover, you know, Quentin. Any woman who ever sleeps with you is going to have to fake every orgasm."

  It was obscene hearing language like that from a child.

  "Your fault, Quentin," she said. "I wasn't interested in any of that stuff till you started pawing at Madeleine that night in your living room. It was obvious I was blowing it, so I had to read up and spy on Mom and Dad and figure out what this sex crap was all about. I finally got it, though, didn't I? Made all your fantasies come true, didn't I?"

  Quentin looked away from her in shame.

  "Oh, come on, here you are, you wanted to face me, didn't you? So face me. Be a man. Buck up."

  "You don't want me to be a man," said Quentin. "You want me to be a tool."

  "But we did have fun, didn't we? Playing with politics like we did. We made a great pair, spending your money to change the face of American politics. Whoever rules America rules the world. If you'd had the stomach for it, I might have forgotten all about the treasure box and gone for the big game. Not the '96 elections, but by the year two thousand we would have been ready. Both candidates for president would have belonged to us. But you just couldn't do it. Couldn't follow through. I knew from then on that you'd be nothing but trouble. So... plan B."

  "The treasure box."

  "It was really plan A all along, I knew that," said Roz. "I knew you'd wimp out because that's the way you are, soft at the core, like Mother. You just don't have the heart to do anything powerful. Even keeping her like this—I couldn't do it if she had any spine at all. She's a witch! She could shuck off my control if she wanted to. If she even knew I was doing it. But she keeps thinking that she loves me, and that makes it easy to control her. The way I could control you as long as you loved Madeleine."

  "But you couldn't get me to open the box."

  "That was Grandmother. She didn't know it was me, of course, because I cover everything I do with Mother's spirit. Just some of it, to serve as my mask."

  "So it's you controlling Mike Bolt. Through your mother. And you constantly blocking Mrs. Tyler from seeing what you're doing."

  "Easy easy easy."

  "But you can't do everything at once."

  "I don't have to. I just follow the people who matter. The people who amount to anything."

  "You're afraid, though," said Quentin. "Or you wouldn't be trying to kill your grandmother."

  "Of course I'm afraid, bonehead. This is powerful stuff we're dealing with. This dragon, it's no joke! And Grandmother can interfere. I want her out of the way. She's overstayed her welcome by about a decade."

  "By coincidence, your lifetime."

  "She's a baby-killer, Quentin. She deserves to die." Roz giggled. "Come on, get in the spirit of this."

  Quentin shook his head. "I came here thinking that maybe we could do business. Maybe we could work out a way for me to get you what you want and have done with it. But no, I don't think so."

  "I'm not worthy?" she said with mock regret.

  "Who needs a beast with you in the world?"

  The words didn't even seem to sting her. "Everybody's a critic. Well, let's see. That means Quentin Fears doesn't want to go back to Grandmother's house and open my treasure box for me. How sad for me! Poor Roz doesn't get her way! Boo-hoo! Boo-hoo!"

  Come on, you evil little witch, get to the point.

  "Impatient, huh? Like I said, I only follow the ones that matter. For instance, that investigator your lawyer hired here in DC. While you were in talking to the grande dame, I was out at his car, enthralling him. He's mine, Quentin. So he gave you the address of this house, sure—when I was ready."

  "Ready? You were taking a nap."

  "You went to a movie and had dinner. I had things to do. The point is—you remember, I was making a point—the point is that your little investigator, he also ran an errand for me."

  Quentin felt sick, though he had no idea what she mig
ht have made the fellow do.

  "He went to a graveyard in California and did a little digging," said Roz. "Got me a nice chunk of your sister's body. And since I also knew her name—you didn't know that was needed, did you?—since I knew her name, I was able to summon her. He just got back with it this morning. I've got your sister all locked up tight. A prisoner just like the dragon. Only she's not powerful at all. She can't get out, not even a little bit of her. She just exists inside her—well, let's just call it her home, why don't we?"

  "The beast already has you."

  "I'm stronger than the dragon. That's what Mother and Grandmother have never taken into account. What if somebody comes along who's so strong she doesn't have to kill the beast, or imprison it? I'm the one who will tame the dragon, and ride it wherever I want."

  "Cowboy in the rodeo," said Quentin.

  "And you'll help me, Quentin. It'll be in your body that the dragon lives while I'm riding it. I think that's only fair. I gave you the best year of your life. Well, not quite a year, but close enough. Once I got the hang of it, you had better sex than any man ever gets, night after night. And I was good company, too. The perfect wife. I paid in advance for the use of your body now. You won't suffer, you know. In fact, you and your precious Lizzy will be reunited. When your body dies, anyway. Nothing lasts forever, right? You have my word that after the dragon has your body, Lizzy comes out of the—place. Free again. So you get paid again. Come on, Quentin, it's a good bargain. Your sister for my dragon. Plus the happiest year of your life. You can't ever say you were cheated."

  Quentin felt as if he were already dead.

  "You may even get some vicarious pleasure out of seeing how the dragon and I use your body. You're thinking that I'm pure evil, I know that, but you're wrong. I'll use all that power to do good. Unite the world under one strong ruler. Peace on earth. Good will toward men. Hitler was Hitler before the beast got him. Caligula was already a strutting little bastard."

  What do you think you are?

  "Sticks and stones, Quentin. That's all I ever wanted power for. To do good for everybody. You'll see, this is all for the best. You were lucky to be chosen. And when I get old enough and reach puberty, I'll probably mate with your body, so that your children will inherit the kingdom of the whole earth. Like the book of Revelation promises—a thousand years of peace."

  "It also promises devastation."

  "That all depends on how stubborn people are about resisting me. You can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs. Don't wince at the cliché, Quentin. It only became a cliché because it's true."

  Quentin rose to his feet and walked on leaden feet toward the door. "I won't help you," he said.

  "Oh, Lizzy will be so sorry to hear that."

  "She'll understand."

  "But you don't understand, Quentin. This isn't something temporary. If you don't help me, I'll never, never let her out."

  Quentin stopped in the doorway. "Your lifetime and never are two different spans, little girl. You only think you're immortal."

  "I don't have to live forever. I just have to bury your sister's dwelling place in the backyard, and—tell me, Quentin—who's going to dig it up? How many thousands of years before erosion finally exposes it? And even then, you don't know what her container is made of. But I'll give you a hint. It isn't biodegradable."

  Quentin could hardly breathe, he was so filled with impotent rage.

  Roz got up from her father's lap and skipped to the stairs. "I'm just a little, little girl," she said. "You shouldn't be so mad at me."

  "I want you to die," said Quentin.

  "Someday I will. Now say good-bye to my parents."

  She bounded on up the stairs.

  Almost at once, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan came back into focus. Ray looked quite startled. "I must have dozed off, for heaven's sake! What was I thinking of?"

  Rowena, however, had an unutterable sadness on her face as she looked up at Quentin.

  "I can't deny it anymore," she said. "My daughter rules me, doesn't she?"

  "Only because you love her," said Quentin. "Though how and why, I can't guess."

  Tears flowed down Rowena's cheeks. "Because she's mine. Because I'm not my mother. I love my children."

  "Your mother loved her children too," said Quentin. "But give your mother credit for this much: The beast stole her child. She didn't raise hers to be a monster."

  "Do you dare to judge me?" said Rowena.

  Quentin shook his head. "I don't judge you for what you've done, or haven't done. But if you let her do what she's planning, then I blame you, yes."

  "I don't care what you blame me for," said Rowena. "I'm not my mother!"

  "Too bad for the human race," said Quentin. "Too bad for your daughter. She thinks she can control the beast."

  Suddenly Rowena and Ray went slack again. Roz appeared at the top of the stairs.

  "That's enough, Quentin," she said cheerily. "A little learning is a dangerous thing."

  "And absolute power corrupts absolutely," Quentin answered.

  "Bite me," she said. Then she gave him a little wave. "Open the door and out with you, babe."

  He wanted to think of something he could say that would wither her with its brutal cleverness. But nothing came to mind. And there was no point in trying to talk to Rowena and Ray, not when they were in this condition.

  "Roz," he finally said.

  "Yes, Tin, my pet?" She spoke the term of endearment so ironically that it cut him to the heart. Because he would be her pet, if she won her gamble. If she lost, he would still be the dragon's mount, the beast's own steed, and Lizzy would never get out of prison.

  "Maybe I'll do it," he said.

  "Lizzy will be so glad to hear it."

  "You've got to bring Lizzy with you. Whatever you've got her in, bring it."

  "Not a chance," said Roz. "You think I'm stupid? I'm just a widdow widdow girr." Her baby talk made him want to smack her all over again. "We wouldn't want nasty badums to stwangow me, would we?"

  "As if I could."

  "Just in case you get any ideas about that," she said, "remember that I'm not an illusion like Madeleine was. If it comes to a fight between us, I'll win. You can't fight a witch, Quentin. You aren't that strong."

  "If I decide to do it, how do I let you know?"

  "I'll know, you big silly goof." She did her cutesy giggle again.

  "What makes you think you'll succeed this time, when last time you failed?"

  "I have a better plan."

  "For instance?"

  "I'll be there myself this time," she said. "And there'll be a little less interference."

  "You're no match for your grandmother, if that's what you mean."

  "I'm a match for anybody," she said. "I'm younger than Alexander was when he inherited his father's kingdom."

  "You're not as smart as you think you are."

  "You're not smart enough to judge. Now go away, Mr. Fears. My parents get so stiff and sore when I put them out like this, sitting up."

  Quentin opened the door and left, the door ajar behind him. He was halfway down the steps when he heard her. "That was a childish gesture, Quentin! Leaving the door open! What a big baby!"

  He ignored her and returned to his car.

  There had to be a way to stop her. The trouble was, he didn't know enough to have any hope of discovering it. But that was all right. Mrs. Tyler wanted to see him again. She would help him figure out what to do to get Lizzy free without turning loose the beast upon the world.

  Though he also knew that if it came to a choice between Lizzy's freedom and saving his own life, or even saving the world, he wouldn't even have to think about it. His own life was worthless to him now. And the world? The world could take care of itself. The dragon had been abroad in the world before, and the world survived. Besides, even dragons don't live forever. Peter, Paul and Mary didn't know what they were talking about.

  Dragons die, yes. Wouldn't that be a joke on Roz and the beast,
both? If he took a huge dose of poison just before opening the treasure box? Let the dragon have his body, and then it drops dead!

  But that wouldn't get Lizzy out of the prison. He had to have a better plan than that. Mrs. Tyler would know what he should do. He had to get back to Mrs. Tyler.

  17. Hair

  Quentin called the rental car company and explained why the car he rented at La Guardia was about to be left at Dulles. The clerk he talked to had a singsong nasal voice, which would have been annoying enough by itself. What really drove him up the wall was her air of complacent superiority and utter unwillingness to admit the tiniest shred of merit in Quentin's position.

  "That car isn't authorized for return at another airport, sir."

  "But that's where it's going to be returned."

  "But you can't return it there, sir."

  "But that's where I am."

  "You signed a contract promising to return the car to La Guardia."

  "There was a storm. La Guardia was closed down."

  "A contract is a contract. Don't you keep your contracts, Mr. Fears?"

  "I'm trying to return the car. You have an office at Dulles."

  This cycle was repeated about three times before Quentin finally lost patience. He didn't raise his voice. In fact, he spoke more quietly. "Let me explain it to you very simply. You don't have a choice because I didn't have a choice. La Guardia was closed and I had to get to DC. Now I'm here, and I'm flying back to New York from Dulles. FAA regulations won't allow me to check the car as luggage."

  "You signed a contract, Mr. Fears. If you don't intend to—"

  Quentin was fed up with being accused of breaking his word. "I'm saying this only once. If you want to talk instead of listening, that's fine with me."

  "Go ahead, Mr. Fears."

  "I paid for the collision damage waiver. That means if I wreck the car I don't have any problem about not returning it. Also, if the car is stolen I'm off the hook. So either you can have your people at Dulles accept the car, or I'll leave it at a Seven-Eleven with the keys in the ignition and the motor running, and you can have your insurance company reimburse you. Which will it be?"