Lyf shrugged. "Why not. If your T.V. holds out that long, I'll give you that much time. Longer if necessary. You can't really be blamed for being a product of your culture--and your culture has rejected the Snake. It would be easier if you were a Taoist or a Yezidee." "But I'm not," Miss Twilley said miserably. "And I can't help thinking of you as the Enemy." "We Devi get blamed for a lot of things," Lyf admitted, "and taken collectively there's some truth in them. We gave you basic knowledge of a number of things such as medicine, writing, law, and the scientific method. But we can't be blamed for the uses to which you have put them." "Are you sure I have cancer?" she interrupted. "Of the pancreas," he said. "And you can cure it?" "Easily. Anyone with a knowledge of fifth order techniques can manipulate cellular structures. There's very little I can't do, and with proper equipment about the only thing that can't be defeated is death. You've heard, I suppose, of tumors that have disappeared spontaneously." Miss Twilley nodded. "Most of them are Devian work. Desperate humans sometimes use good sense, find a medium and generate a sixth order focus. And occasionally one of us will hear and come." "And the others?" "I don't know," Lyf said. "I could guess that some of you can crudely manipulate fifth order forces, but that would only be a guess." He spread his hands in a gesture of incomprehension incongruously Gallic. "I don't know why I'm taking all this trouble with you, but I will make a concession to your conditioning. See your doctors. And then, if you want my help, call through the gateway. I'll probably hear you, but if I don't, keep calling." The darkness where the picture tube had been writhed and swirled as he dove into it and vanished. "Whew!" Miss Twilley said shakily. "_That_ was an _experience_!" She walked unsteadily toward the T.V. set. "I'd better turn this off just in case he gets an idea of coming back. Trust a _devil_! Hardly!" Her hand touched the switch and hesitated. "But perhaps he was telling the truth," she murmured doubtfully. "Maybe I'd better leave it on." She smiled wryly. "Anyway--it's insurance." * * * * * "Miss Twilley," the doctor said slowly, "can you take a shock?" "I've done it before. What's the matter? Don't tell me that I have an adenocarcinoma of the pancreas that'll kill me in six months." The doctor eyed her with startled surprise. "We haven't pinpointed the primary site, but the tests are positive. You do have an adenocarcinoma, and it has involved so many organs that we cannot operate. You have about six months left to live." "My God!" Miss Twilley gasped. "He was telling the truth!"