Chapter 1. Heaven
Cent

•vy woke, stretched, and opened her eyes. It
was dawn; the sun had not yet quite dared show its round
face, because darkness made it nervous, but soon it would
get up its nerve. She looked at the Tapestry, with its ever-
changing picture of Xanth. She never really tired of watch-
ing it, though her interest waxed and waned. It waxed
when it rained outside because it was more fun to remain
inside where it was dry, and it waned when Zora Zombie
was waxing the stairs and the smell of the wax got chok-
ingly thick. Thus, as she put it, it waxed when it waned,
and waned when it waxed. It was her private joke with
Dt^ph? the adults didn't understand. Adults were chroni-
cal^slow about such things.

Sure enough, Zora was waxing today; the smell was just
starting. Ivy had only minutes to find a pretext to go far
away, several days if possible, until the wax settled down.
But she was running out of pretexts; what was left?

She jumped out of bed so suddenly she frightened the
monster under it—Grabraham; she heard his honk as he
shrank away. He was a young monster, replacing Snorti-
mer, who had departed long ago; he tended to be timid.
She was also reaching the age when folk started not be-
lieving in Bed Monsters, and that made it that much worse.
When she turned eighteen she would stop believing en-
tirely, and the poor thing would fade away. Grabby was

1

2

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

3

quite upset over the prospect, for some reason. She was
sorry about that, but there was really no alternative; she
couldn't stop herself from getting older.

She ran barefoot to the next room where Princess Nada
slept. Nada had moved in three years before when Dolph
brought her home, and the two had become great friends,
because they were the same age and rank and similarly
pretty. Nada was only half human, but she kept her human
form when staying at Castle Roogna, just from courtesy.
Princesses had to leam courtesy early, because princes
certainly didn't.

"Nada!" she cried. "I need a pretext in a hurry."

Nada sat up in bed, wrinkling her nose. "I know; I
smell it too. I'll go with you."

"Of course! But where?"

Nada concentrated. "Have we used the mirror yet?"

"We don't have the magic mirror!" Ivy reminded her.
"Com-Pewter got it last year, and won't give it back!"

"Yes. So—"

Ivy caught on. "So we'll just have to go and fetch it!
Because I'll need it when I use the Heaven Cent!"

"Exactly. Except—"

"I know. Except that Com-Pewter isn't going to let us
have it without a fight, and he fights dirty. Still, it's a
perfect excuse, if we can only figure out a way."

"Maybe Electra—"

"That's right! She could shock Pewter into letting it
go!"

Electra appeared in the doorway. "Did someone say my
name?" she asked sleepily. She was a freckled child whose
hair was a bit frizzy; her eyes were the color of wonder,
and there were smile lines around her button nose. No one
would think, to look at her, that she was tragically in love.

"Zora's waxing the stairs! Come help us get the magic
mirror from Com-Pewter!"

"Is that what I smelled! Just let me get dressed!"

There was a scramble as the three of them dived into
proper clothing. In a moment they were together again;

the two princesses in dresses, glancing jealously at Electra
in her rainbow jeans. She was of common stock, so could

get away with practical clothing. She was also slender
enough to wear it without attracting stray male eyes or
female frowns.

Quickly they trooped down the hall to the farther stair-
way, avoiding the wax. Unfortunately this led them past
Dolph's room, and he heard them. He had ears like those
of a werewolf, perhaps because he commonly assumed
wolf form to snooze. His door banged open. "Hey,
where're you going?" he cried. "Are you sneaking out
again?"

Nada and Electra paused: Nada because she didn't want
to hurt his feelings, Electra because she was in love with
him. Both were betrothed to him, of course, though he
was only twelve. In a moment Electra would invite him
along, because she always wanted to be close to him.

To prevent that. Ivy dived in. "We're going to get the
magic mirror from Com-Pewter so I can have it when I
use the Heaven Cent," she said. "So we can find out
where Good Magician Humfrey is and finally complete
your Quest."

"But Mother won't let you—" he started, reasonably.

"So you'll have to cover for us!" Ivy finished. " 'Bye!"

He still looked doubtful. But Nada stepped in and kissed
him, not saying a word. "Uh, sure," he said. He was
Silly Putty in her hands, of course, even though he knew
she didn't love him. It was the mirror image of his asso-
ciation with Electra. He changed into zombie form and
walked back the way they had come. Zombies didn't mind
the smell of wax, so he would be able to brave those stairs
despite Zora's mischief.

They completed their escape. Whatever Dolph had done
must have been sufficient, because no one tried to inter-
cept them. Ivy whistled for Stanley, and in a moment the
dragon whored around the castle and joined them. He
was almost grown now, and soon would have to depart for
the Gap because guarding it was his job. Ivy would be sad
when he left, but knew it was the same as it was with her:

age had its burdens. Meanwhile, he was excellent protec-
tion; they had no fear of wild monsters while in the com-
pany of the tame one.




Man from Mundonia

4

They snatched fruits from the orchard as they passed
through it, eating on the run. Then they reached the main
path going north. Every so often Com-Pewter arranged to
set up a D-tour, and then King Dor would send out some-
one to shut it down because it was a public nuisance. Ivy
happened to know that there was a D-tour currently in
force, and this time they meant to take it. It was the easiest
way to reach the evil machine. They were supposed to
stay clear of the infernal contraption, of course, which was
part of what made him so intriguing. Stanley would be>fio
protection against him, but Electra would.         v^>

Sure enough, there was the D-tour. They veered onto
it. Now they could relax, because even if it got shut down,
they wouldn't lose it.

They stopped for the night near the unlevel playing field
where the Bulls and the Bears charged back and forth.
Grundy Golem had discovered this during his Quest to
locate the missing pet dragon. It was called the Market,
and the Bulls and Bears were the Stock. Almost every day
the foolish animals resumed their pointless activity, react-
ing dramatically to insignificant events and ignoring major
events. There were many strange things in Xanth, but this
business was too strange for even the craziest folk to un-
derstand. What did those Bulls and Bears find so fascinat-
ing about that Stock Market?

Stanley whomped off into the thickest wilderness to
catch a bite to eat, while the three girls harvested pies
from a pie tree near the path. It wasn't much of a tree,
but Ivy used her talent to enhance it, and then the pies
became so healthy that they steamed. There were many
more such trees along all the paths than in years of yore,
because Ivy's mother, Irene, had seeded them in and made
them grow, and Ivy had Enhanced them.

While they ate, they talked, for it was always fun to talk
when there were no adults to listen in. Inevitably the sub-
ject found its way to Romance, for that was the most
fascinating concept ever to approach teenage girls.

"When are you going to Find a Boy, Ivy?" Nada in-
quired. "I mean, you're well into seventeen, and when

Man from Mundania          5

your mother was that age she had already landed your
father and trussed him up."

"And by the time my little brother was nine, he had
already landed two finacees," Ivy agreed. "I confess to
being retarded."

Nada and Electra grinned ruefully. Nada had been four-
teen when the young Prince Dolph had come to her father,
the King of the Naga, for help, and because the naga
needed an alliance with the humans, the King had agreed
to help if Dolph married his daughter. Nada had had to
pretend she was Dolph's age, nine, knowing that her real
age would freak him out. It was only a betrothal, of course;

they would have to wait until Dolph came of age for the
actual ceremony of marriage. But meanwhile the alliance
was valid, and Nada had kept company with Dolph while
her folk received sundry items from the Castle Roogna
arsenal to fight off the encroaching goblins. There seemed
to be more goblins in Xanth than there used to be; no one
was quite sure why, but it did make for trouble.

Then the Heaven Cent had brought Electra to Dolph.
She had to marry him or die, so Dolph agreed to be be-
trothed to her too. That had happened at about the time
Dolph discovered that Nada was five years older than he,
so it might have been an easy decision for him to make.
But in the end he had realized that he loved Nada, so that
betrothal had remained.

Thus their quandary: they all knew that Dolph had to
choose between the two girls before he came of age. If he
chose Nada, he would honor his word to the naga folk,
and as a prince he was bound to keep his word. But Elec-
tra would die. None of them wanted that.

Three years had passed, while Electra used her talent
to charge the Heaven Cent. The three girls had become
fast friends. So they accepted the situation as it was: un-
resolved. Electra loved Dolph, and Dolph loved Nada.
Nada didn't love Dolph, and Dolph didn't love Electra.
How was this picklement to be settled? No one knew, but
it remained a favorite topic for conjecture. Fortunately it
would be several more years before Dolph Came of Age,
so the matter wasn't pressing yet.




6 Man from Mundania

"Didn't you know a Boy, once?" Electra asked. She
had been born more than eight hundred years before—-
maybe closer to nine hundred—and had slept through all
those centuries until Dolph kissed her awake. So her phys-
ical age was fifteen, and she looked twelve; indeed, she
was still a child in all the ways that counted, except for
the spell that made her love Dolph- But because of that
spell, she understood something of love and had a lively
curiosity about it.

"Yes," Ivy said, remembering. "I knew Hugo, the
Good Magician's son. He was five years older than me."

"The right way around!" Nada said. They all knew that
a boy could love a girl who was five years younger, but a
girl could not love a boy five years younger. That was
Nada's plight. She could marry Dolph, when the time
came, but couldn't love him.

"Oh," Electra said, understanding. "So when the Good
Magician disappeared, so did his son!"

"Yes. Hugo wasn't much, but he was nice, and he could
conjure fruit. Only he usually conjured rotten fruit."

"Rotten fruit!" Electra exclaimed, laughing. She
plucked a cherry from her pie and tossed it at Ivy. "Have
some rotten fruit!"

"Oh, so that's the way it is!" Ivy cried with mock out-
rage. She plucked a fragment of peach from her own pie
and threw it at Electra. "Have a peach of pie yourself!"
But Electra, childishly canny, ducked, and the piece hit
Nada.

"Oho!" Nada said. Her pie was lemon meringue, but
there were no lemon pieces to throw, so she threw me-
ringue instead.

In a moment they were engrossed in their very most
favorite sport: a food fight. For some obscure reason this
was frowned on at the castle, so this was a golden oppor-
tunity. When Stanley returned, all three were thoroughly
spattered. The dragon offered to lick them clean, but at
the first lick Electra dissolved into titillations of ticklish-
ness, and that set them all off in helpless laughter.

Fortunately there was a hot spring nearby. The three
plunged in—only to indulge in a fury of splash-fighting,

Man from Mundania          7

with piercing screams, while Stanley prowled in a circle
around them, ready to help steam them clean. If it hadn't
been for him, every predator in the region would have
been there, attracted by the delicious sounds of shrieking
nymphs.
It was fun, being girls.

They camped for the night in a nest of pillows within
the circle formed by Stanley, who curled around and caught
his tail in his mouth. Ivy had told him the story of Uro-
borus, the giant serpent who circled the Mundane world
(which it seemed was round) and grasped its own tail, and
Stanley liked the notion, so now he slept that way himself.
He was long, but really not that long; he could not hope
to circle the world. It didn't matter, because he was only
doing it for the feel of it. Meanwhile, they were quite safe,
which was the point.

When they got tired of walking, they took turns riding
on Stanley. It was an art to remain perched while he
whomped along, but they had had time to practice it. First
the rider would be low, then riding high, then low again.
Wheee! Electra took special joy in this, not ashamed to
yield to her juvenile impulses. Ivy and Nada, being more
mature (and in dresses), were obliged to pretend that it
really wasn't all that special.

As they approached Corn-Pewter's cave, they paused for
a consultation. "Should we try to hide our identities from
him?" Ivy asked. Com-Pewter was really an "it" but it
was easier to ascribe masculine evil, so they called it
"he."

"He'll never be fooled," Nada said. "He'll know we
didn't come here just to giggle."

"But maybe if we can hide our talents—"

Nada shrugged. "We can try. But I don't think it will
work. He certainly knows about Ivy."

"Unless he's overconfident, so doesn't check, and—"
Ivy's eyes flicked meaningfully toward Electra.

Nada nodded. "When I change form, try to escape,
distracting him—"

Now Electra nodded. "Gotcha."




8 Man from Mundania

"All else is bluff," Ivy said. "Maybe we'll pull it off
without violence."

"Maybe," Nada agreed, seeming less confident.

"Stanley, you go hide in the jungle," Ivy said. "After
the invisible giant passes, sneak up and follow us, but
don't let yourself be seen. That machine in there is devi-
ous, and we may need to be rescued if things go wrong."

Stanley nodded. He was only a dragon, but in Ivy's
presence his ferocity and intelligence were enhanced, and
he understood her perfectly. He ceased whomping and
slithered into the brush beside the path. In a moment his
sinuous green body merged with the foliage and disap-
peared. He would be watching.

They looked on, chatting innocently, in the way girls
had when innocence was the last thing on their minds.

The ground shook. "There's the invisible giant, right
on cue," Ivy remarked. "Get ready to spook."

The ground shook again. They paused, gazing wildly
around. "What's that?" Electra cried, her hair flaring
slightly. She was very good at spooking.

There was another shake. "It's the invisible giant!" Ivy
cried in seeming horror.

"EEEEEEEK!" Nada and Electra screamed in perfect
unison.

"Run!" Ivy cried,

The three broke into a run, right toward the cave. That
was the way Com-Pewter set it up: first travelers got onto
the D-tour, then they were herded by the invisible giant
until they took refuge in the cave—where they were trapped
by Com-Pewter. They were walking into it deliberately,
this time.

Just before the slow-moving giant came into sight (as it
were), they reached the cave and plunged in. It was dark,
but in a moment a light showed deeper inside, so of course
they went toward it. Soon they were in Com-Pewter's main
chamber.

There he was: an odd collection of wires and colored
metalware, with a big glassy screen sitting up in the center.
Words appeared on this screen, written in light:

G&EETWGS, GIRLS.

Man from Mundania          9

The three tittered uncertainly. Ivy put her finger to her
mouth as if nervous, which really was not much of an
exaggeration. "What is that?" she asked, staring at the
screen.

l AM COM-PEWTER, YOUR HOST, the screen said. TO

WHAT DO I OWE THE HONOR OF THIS VISIT, PRINCESS IVY?

So much for secrecy! Ivy decided to get right on with
it. "I have come for the magic mirror you stole from Cas-
tle Roogna."

i STOLE NO MIRROR! the screen printed angrily, i WON
IT.

"You stole it!" Ivy retorted. "And I want it back!"

DID NOT! the screen replied.

"Did too!"

DID NOT!

Ivy realized that Com-Pewter, who was of the techno-
logical persuasion, could continue this argument forever.
Machines were like golems: it didn't bother them to repeat
things indefinitely. Ivy, being just about grown-up (except
for the matter of a boyfriend), could no longer indulge in
such activity; it wasn't dignified.

"You lured a traveler here, who was using the mirror
with my father's permission, and you only let him go be-
cause he left the mirror," Ivy said stoutly.

CORRECT. I PLAYED A GAME WITH HIM AND WON. THE
MIRROR IS MINE.

"The mirror is not yours!" she snapped. "It wasn't his
to give away! He had borrowed it, and he was going to
return it when he finished his mission. So you stole it, and
you have to give it back."

I WON IT AND I DON'T HAVE TO RETURN IT.

"Yes, you do!" Ivy said. "Or else!"

OR ELSE WHAT?

"Or else my father. King Dor, will have to do some-
thing."

YOUR FATHER DOES NOT KNOW YOU ARE HERE.

This machine was entirely too clever! "Well, then, /
will have to do something."
DO WHAT?
" VVi teiw to \2&a. A& YBHTOE b-ask. fcy fas»l>. w kfj crook.''

10 Man from Mundania

BUT A PRINCESS IS NOT A CROOK.

"I'll make an exception."

THEN I WILL HAVE TO HOLD YOU CAPTIVE.

Ivy delivered a haughty stare. "Are you threatening me,
you crock?"
YES.
So much for bluffing! "Then it's war!"

IT ALWAYS WAS.

"War, then," she said boldly. "Where do you have the
mirror?"

WHY DO YOU WANT IT?

"Why should I tell you that?"

WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU WHERE IT IS?

Oh. "You mean you'll tell me where it is, if I tell you
why I want it?"

OF COURSE.

' 'I need it to take with me when I use the Heaven Cent.''

The screen blinked. This news had evidently taken the
machine aback. Then the words appeared: THE MIRROR is

IN THE CABINET BY THE BACK EXIT.

Ivy looked toward the rear of the cave. There was a
cabinet. She knew the machine could not tell an untruth,
but it could tell a partial truth. "Is the cabinet locked?"

NO.

"There must be some reason I can't get it, even if I
beat you."

THERE IS NO REASON.

"I don't believe it!"

GO TO THE CABINET. TAKE THE MIRROR.

"You're giving it to me?" she asked incredulously.

NO. I AM MERELY EVINCING MY GOOD FAITH. YOU MAY
HOLD THE MIRROR. IT DOES NOT MATTER, BECAUSE IF I
MAKE YOU CAPTIVE, THE MIRROR REMAINS CAPTIVE TOO.

Ivy walked to the cabinet. She pulled open its top
drawer. There was the magic mirror! She picked it up.

"Maybe it's the wrong mirror!" Nada exclaimed.
"Maybe it only looks like the one you want."

TEST IT, the machine printed imperturbably.

"Show me my brother," Ivy told the mirror.

Man from Mundania

n

Prince Dolph appeared in the mirror. He was sitting
quite still. That was suspicious.

"Show me the larger context," she said.
The image of Dolph shrank as the scope of the scene
increased. Now the image showed the boy sitting on Ivy's
bed, watching the magic Tapestry.

"That little stink hom!" Ivy exclaimed. "He sneaked
into my room to watch the Tapestry!"

"That figures," Nada said. "He does like it."
Ivy nodded. "Almost as well as he likes you," she
agreed.

The mirror was genuine. "All right. Pewter," Ivy said.
"Now it starts. I'm walking out of here—with the mir-
ror." She started walking toward the front of the cave.
PRINCESS IVY CHANGES HER MIND, the screen printed.
"Well, maybe not with the mirror," she said.
"Ivy!" Nada cried. "Don't let him rewrite the script!"
Ivy glared at the screen. "So you're doing it. Pewter!"
she said severely. "Well, it won't work! I'm not changing
my mind!" She resumed walking.

PRINCESS IVY SEES A BIG HAIRY SPIDER ON THE FLOOR.

There was the spider, right in front of her. ' 'Eeeeek!''
she screeched, horrified.

"Don't fall for that!" Nada called. "It's illusion!"

"But it's a big hairy illusion!" Ivy replied.

' 'Just walk through it!''

Ivy realized that she would have to do just that. She
took a nervous step toward the spider.

The spider reared up on six of its hairy legs, and hissed.
Ivy skipped back, affrighted again.

"This is ridiculous," Nada said. "I'll take care of that
spider." For the naga had no fear of spiders; they ate
them.

NADA ENCOUNTERS HER WORST HORROR, the Screen

printed.

The spider converted into a man-high mound of cake

covered with ice cream covered with chocolate fudge with

whipped cream topping.

"Oh, ugh!" Nada exclaimed, retreating.
"You hate cake?" Electra asked, amazed.

12 Man from Mundania

"When I traveled with Dolph, we came to an isle—one
of the keys—made of cake and icing and all. We ate until
we got sick. Ever since, I can't stand the stuff. My stom-
ach turns at the very notion!"

"Well, mine doesn't!" Electra said. "Let me at it!"

ELECTRA ENCOUNTERS HER WORST HORROR.

The cake reshaped into an open coffin. The interior was
plush, and there was a coverlet and pillow inside. It looked
quite comfortable.

Electra's eyes went round with horror. "No, no! I don't
want to go back to sleep there!" she cried, retreating. For
she had slept for a thousand years (minus time on" for good
behavior) in just such a coffin, having fallen in as victim
of a curse by Magician Murphy. If she ever went back to
it, she would slumber the rest of the sentence, then die in
her sleep. She backed away until she almost banged into
the big screen.

Which was exactly where Ivy wanted her. "I think we've
had enough of this," she said firmly. "I'm not going to
let that hairy spider stop me this time! Nada—"

"Right." Nada abruptly changed form, becoming a
snake. If the spider reappeared, she would snap it up.

NADA ENCOUNTERS—the screen began.

But at that point Electra, responding to their agreed
signal, slapped her hand down on top of the screen and
delivered a tremendous jolt of electric current. That was
her talent, of course, and it was formidable in the right
situation.

The screen nickered. WRITE-ERROR! it flashed. Then
gibberish symbols raced across it. Then more words: IN-
TERRUPTS OFF! Then nothing; it faded out entirely.

"Come on, let's get out of here before he recovers!"
Ivy said. She hurried across the cave. Nothing opposed
her; the illusions that had been the spider, cake, and coffin
were gone. Electra's shock had thrown Corn-Pewter into
confusion, and he would have to put all his circuits in
order before he could resume revising reality.

They ran out, Nada resuming human form. There was
Stanley in the entrance tunnel, steaming. Had their elec-
tric magic ploy failed, the dragon would have fired a jet

r

Man from Mundania         13

of hot steam at the screen, and that probably would have
done the job. They had come prepared.

They rushed out into daylight while Stanley guarded
their rear. If Com-Pewter recovered too soon and started
printing barriers to their escape, the dragon would use his
head of steam after all.

The day remained clear, but there was now a horrible
smell, as of a hundred fat men sweating in unison.

Electra was childishly fleet on her feet. She led the
way—and suddenly stopped. "Ooof!" she grunted, and
sat down, gasping.

Ivy was next. " 'Lectra! What's the matter?"

Electra, still struggling for breath, pointed ahead. But
there was nothing there.

"The odor must have choked her," Nada said, coming
up. "Did a sphinx die nearby?"

Ivy stepped forward—and banged into an invisible col-
umn.

Then, from above, came a sound: "A-ooo-ga?"

"The invisible giant!" Ivy exclaimed. "He's standing
here!"

"Because he doesn't know what to do now that Com-
Pewter's on the blink," Nada said. "But we can help
him." She tilted her head back. "Hey, Giant!" she called.
"Go take a bath!"

"Baaath?" the huge voice came back.

"Go jump in the lake!" Ivy called helpfully.

The monstrous invisible legs moved. The ground quaked
with each footfall. In a moment a patch of trees to the side
was flattened. Then another patch, in the shape of a tre-
mendous footprint. Then there was a truly phenomenal
splash in the nearby lake.

"Move—before everything floods!" Ivy cried, helping
Electra to her feet. The girl wasn't hurt; she had just had
the breath knocked out of her.

They ran on down the path—and indeed, a wash of wa-
ter was coming, and drops spattered down around them
like rain.

Stanley whomped after them, catching up. They had
made their escape—and Ivy had the mirror!

14

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

15

* * *

There was whatfor to pay when they returned, of course,
but Ivy was used to that; she had gotten into mischief all
her cute life. She had recovered the magic mirror, and
that went far to stifle her mother's sharp tongue. Anyway,
Dolph had been watching their little adventure on the Tap-
estry, and would have warned King Dor had things gone

really bad.

Still, Ivy was bothered by one aspect of it. It seemed
to her that their escape had been too easy. Sober later
reflection suggested that surely Com-Pewter had known of
Electra's talent, and could have insulated himself against
it. Why hadn't he done so? Had he been careless, just this
once? It had seemed so at the time, but in retrospect this
seemed less likely. It was almost as if the machine had
wanted to give back the mirror. But that didn't seem to
make sense. Com-Pewter never did anything for anybody
voluntarily, unless he stood to gain a lot more than he lost.
What could he gain from giving up the valuable mirror?

Well, the deed was done, and she had the mirror. Now
she had confidence to use the Heaven Cent. For now that
Electra had charged it, the cent was ready for use—and
they had always known that it would be used to complete
the Quest Dolph had started: to find Good Magician Hum-
frey, who had disappeared seven years ago with his family,
leaving his castle empty. He had to be found, for unan-
swered Questions were piling up. Xanth needed him!

Prince Dolph could not use the cent. Their parents had
been quite firm on that. Prince Dolph had gotten himself
betrothed to two girls at once, and he had to stay and face
the medicine. He had to choose between them, get unbe-
trothed to one and marry the other, when he came of age.
Until he settled that mess (Queen Irene called it a "situ-
ation" but a mess was what it was; everybody knew that),

he was not going anywhere.

So Ivy was going to use it. The magic of the cent was
that it took whoever invoked it to wherever or whatever or
whenever or whoever needed that person the most. There
was no certainty that Good Magician Humfrey needed Ivy
the most, but his message to Dolph had named the Heaven

Cent. If the Good Magician thought it would help him,
then surely it would, for Humfrey was the Magician of
Information and knew everything. So Ivy expected to find
him, wherever he was, and expected to be the right person
for the job. Magic had a way of working out, with her.

Yet she was not, deep, deep down inside, quite sure.
For one thing, there was Magician Murphy's curse. Ma-
gician Murphy had lived eight or nine hundred years be-
fore, and his talent had been to make anything that could
go wrong, go wrong. He had cursed the folk of Electra's
time, and as a result Electra had been caught up in the
spell, and Dolph had wound up betrothed to two girls in-
stead of one. Eight hundred years, and Murphy's curse
had been potent! So how could she be sure it was not still
operating? That it would somehow mess up her mission,
and make things even worse than before, and get her lost
as well as the Good Magician?

The answer was, she could not be sure. Maybe Magi-
cian Humfrey had known best—but maybe he had forgot-
ten about that ancient curse. There was only one way to
find out for sure—and that made her nervous.

But she did not express these doubts to anyone else, for
that might make it seem that she wanted to renege on her
agreement to use the Heaven Cent. She certainly wasn't
going to do that! The Good Magician had to be found;

Dolph had done his part, and now it was her turn.

The day soon came. The Heaven Cent was fully charged
and ready. Electra said so, and Electra knew; she had been
trained in this by the Sorceress Tapis, who had woven the
great historical Tapestry that now hung in Ivy's room. In-
deed, the first cent she had crafted had worked marvel-
ously well, bringing Electra herself here to the present just
when they needed another Heaven Cent.

Ivy had watched those old events more than once on the
Tapestry, verifying everything that Electra had told her,
not because she doubted the girl, but because she was
insatiably curious about old-time adventure and romance
and tragedy. Certainly her own life lacked any trace of
such elements; she was safe and dull here in Castle




16

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

17

Roogna. That might be another reason she wanted to go
on this Quest: for the things she missed. And she did want
to go, despite her secret misgivings.

Where would the cent take her? To the top of fabulous
Mount Rushmost, where the winged monsters gathered?
To the bottom of the deepest sea where the merfolk swam?
To the heart of the savagest jungle where things too aw-
ful to contemplate quivered in their foulness? Where was
the Good Magician? That was the mystery of the age, and
she could hardly wait to unravel it.

Ivy made her farewells to all her friends and family
members. Her father looked uncomfortable, and her
mother was stifling tears. They all knew that Ivy would
not be hurt or even be in serious danger; they had been
able to verify this with incidental magic, perhaps having
private doubts similar to Ivy's. But they had not been able
to learn where she would go or how long she would be
away—only that she would return unharmed. So it was an
occasion of mixed feelings.

She said good-bye to her brother, Dolph, and his two
betrotheds, Nada and Electra. Surely she would be back
in time to see the resolution of that triangle! Nada gave
her a sisterly embrace, and then Electra gave her the
charged Heaven Cent. The girl was chewing her lip as if
wanting to say something, perhaps about staying clear of
curses; Ivy smiled with a reassurance she wished were
genuine.

But she had one more farewell to make: she went out
and gave Stanley Steamer a final hug. "I think it's time
for you to go to the Gap," she said tearfully. "You're a
big dragon now, and I can't keep you forever. But I'll visit
you, after I'm done with this business." Stanley gave her
face a careful lick, after she enhanced the softness of his
tongue.

She took the cent and held it before her. It was the size
of a large penny, gleaming brightly, its copper surface im-
bued with the magic of its nature. All she had to do was
invoke it!

She shivered, remembering Murphy's curse once more.
But surely that could have no real force. After all, the Evil

Magician had been confined to the Brain Coral's storage
pool ever since the time of King Roogna; how could his
curse on the Sorceress Tapis affect Ivy now? It must have
done all the damage it was going to, which was plenty. It
was foolish to worry about it!

Ivy stifled her foolishness. "I invoke you, Heaven
Cent," she said firmly.

Then it happened.




Chapter 2. Mundania

'rey woke and looked at the computer. Sud-
denly he made a connection: the computer was doing it!

Then he thought, no, that's ridiculous, a machine
couldn't do anything like that. Well, obviously it could,
but this was such a disreputable thing that it wouldn't. He
had cobbled it together from used components and gotten
a friend who understood the guts of computing to make it
work, knowing it was far from state-of-the-art, but it did
take care of his school papers. Sometimes weird messages
showed on the screen, like INCOMPATIBLE OPERATING SYS-
TEM or NONSTANDARD PERIPHERALS. What else was new?
Apparently his friend had set up something called CP/
DOS that everyone else said was impossible. He had put
a Directory on User 99 that worked most of the time, so
he stayed with it, and usually his papers came out pretty
much the way he typed them in: mediocre. That was all
the computer did, or could do.

But then he thought some more, and wasn't sure. Be-
cause there certainly seemed to be a connection. It had
started with that program, and the vacant apartment, and—

He sat up and held his head in his hands. He was sure
he could manage to come to a conclusion if he worked at
it. But after that date with Salmonella he felt so sick and
weak that even thinking was almost too much of an effort.

18

Man from Mundania         19

Still, he was sure he was onto something, if he could just
work it out before the revelation fled.

Grey had come here to the city apartment because his
folks couldn't afford to board him at the college. City Col-
lege had to take any local resident who qualified, and its
tuition was tax-supported low, so by renting this cheap
room and living mostly on canned beans Grey was able to
squeak by. He was not a great student, and he had no idea
what he might major in if he got that far, but his father
said that he was stuck in this mundane world and if he
didn't make something of himself, no one else would do
it for him. Since a college education was the way to start
making something of himself, he was getting it, or trying
to.

He had thought life was dull. Now that he was taking
Freshman English, he realized that he had greatly under-
estimated the case. He was receiving a superlative edu-
cation in just how deadly dull education could be! His
grades were slipping slowly from C+ through C toward
C— and points south as his metaphorical hands lost their
fingernail clutch on comprehension.

Then he had received that program from Vaporware
Limited. The ad had been impressive: "Having trouble in
school? Let the Worm enliven your life! We promise ev-
erything!" Indeed they did; they promised to improve his
grades and his social life at one stroke. If anything was
duller than his grades, it was his social life, so this really
interested him. The problem was that not only was Grey
strictly average in mind, he was completely forgettable in
body. His driver's license listed his hair as "hair-colored"
and his eyes as "neutral." He excelled at no sports, and
had no clever repartee. As a result, girls found him pretty
much invisible.

He knew it was foolish, but sometimes he was no world
beater on common sense either, so he hocked his watch
and sent off the money for the program. Then, once the
money was safely gone, a classmate had told him what the
term "vaporware" meant: computer programs that were
promised but never delivered. He had been suckered again.
Par for the course.

20 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 21

Then the program had arrived. Suspecting it was merely
a blank disk, he had put it in his floppy disk drive, in-
tending to read its directory. But suddenly the thing was
loading itself onto his cut-rate hard disk. Then the screen
came alive:

GREETINGS, MASTER.

"Uh, same to you. What—?"

I AM THE WORM, A SENDING FROM ONE WHO HAS AN
INTEREST IN YOU. I HAVE ENCHANTED YOUR COMPUTER. I
AM HERE TO SERVE YOUR NEEDS. ASK ME ANYTHING.

What was this? None of his other programs operated
this way! "Uh, your ad said you promised everything and
would enliven my life."

TRUE. NAME THE ASPECT OF YOUR LIFE YOU WISH EN-
LIVENED.

He hadn't even typed in his remark! It was as if the
thing had heard him! "Uh, social. I mean, no girl—"

WHAT GIRL DO YOU WISH?

Amazing! It really was responding to his spoken words!
"That's the problem! I really don't know any girls, and—"

CHOOSE FROM THE LIST: AGENDA, ALIMONY, ANOREXIA,
BEZOAR, BULIMIA, CONNIPTION—

"Agenda!" Grey exclaimed, realizing that the machine
could go on listing forever. How could he tell anything
from a name, anyway? So the first one would do to test
this odd program's bluff.

GO TO THE APARTMENT ACROSS THE HALL.

"But that apartment's empty!" Grey protested. "No
one's rented it in ages!"

The screen rippled in a manner reminiscent of a shrug.

YOU CAN LEAD A HORSE TO WATER, it printed.

"Look, I'll show you!" Grey said. "It's not even
locked, because it's empty.'' He went to his door, opened
it, stepped across the hall, and opened the facing door.

A girl stood just inside the apartment. She was rather
pretty, with her brown hair tied back with a neat ribbon
and every button in place. "Oh—are you the superinten-
dent?" she asked. "The stove doesn't seem to—"

Grey swallowed his surprise. He had had no idea that
anyone was moving in! "Uh, there's a switch in back

that—I'll show you—I'm not the superintendent, just the
boy next door—I mean—" He stifled his confusion and
walked to the stove and pushed the switch. "Now it'll
work. They just didn't want it going on by accident—"

"Oh thank you!" she exclaimed. "You are so helpful!
What's your name?"

"Uh, Grey. Grey Murphy. I—I go to City College,
and-"

"Oh, how nice! I'm going there too! I'm Agenda."

He goggled at her. "Agenda?"

"Agenda Andrews. How nice to find a friend so soon!"

"A friend?" He was still bemused by the coincidence
of names. He had just chosen that one from the Worm's
list!

"Aren't you?" she asked, looking cutely troubled.

"Uh, oh, of course! The friendliest! I just—"

"Why don't we have lunch together? I'm sure you know
all the best local places."

There was another pitfall. "Uh, sure, but—"

"Dutch, of course. I wouldn't presume to impose—"

It remained awkward. He was broke until his weekly
check arrived from home. "I, uh—"

"On second thought, let's eat in," she said brightly. "I
happen to have some things with me."

"Uh, I've got half a can of beans—"

"No need." She bustled to the kitchen cupboard, which
it seemed she had already stocked. "What would you
like? I have Asparagus, bread, corn, doughnuts, eggplant,
fish—"

"Uh, doughnuts are fine." She had her shelf organized
alphabetically?

So it was that they had a nice meal of doughnuts. Before
he knew it, he had a girlfriend, and she had his whole life
organized, just about. It was great, for a few days, but
then it got on his nerves. Agenda did everything by the
number, or rather, by the alphabet. But Grey was a dis-
organized kind of guy. He didn't like having his life run
by the clock and book.

It was also apparent that Agenda's arrangements were
progressive. First they had an informal meal together. Then




Man from Mundania

22

they had a formal one. Then they went on a date: a G-rated
movie, where they held hands. Then they kissed. Then
she set an appointment for him to meet her parents.

He realized that he was on a well-organized treadmill
to marriage and a completely mundane life. He liked
Agenda, but he wasn't ready to make that commitment
yet. He was trying to break the mundane traces, and that
would be impossible with her.

"Damn!" he muttered under his breath.

YOU HAVE A PROBLEM? the computer screen inquired.
The machine was always on, now; the first time he tried
to turn it off after installing the Worm program, the screen
had protested with such logic that he had backed off and
left it on. Grey was barely average in gumption too, it

seemed.

"Well, yes," he confessed. "I've got this girlfriend,
and she's nice, but she's so organized I can't stand it, and
now—"

YOU WISH TO HAVE A DIFFERENT GIRL?

"Well, I hate to say it, but—"

CHOOSE: ALIMONY, ANOREXIA, BEZOAR, BULIMIA, CA-
THARTIC, CONNIPTION—

"Anorexia!" he cut in. He knew better than to take up
with a girl called Alimony! Of course the name might not
mean anything, but why takes chances? Anorexia sounded
like a good name.

GO TO THE APARTMENT ACROSS THE HALL.

"But that's where Agenda is!" he protested. "If I go
there, I just know she'll have things so organized that I'll
never get away.''

YOU CAN LEAD A HORSE TO WATER.

Grey sighed. He'd just have to show the machine!
He opened his door and crossed the hall. He knocked

on the door.

It opened. There stood a strange, thin girl.

"Uh—" Grey said, amazed.

"You don't think I'm too fat, do you?" the girl inquired
anxiously. "I'm on a diet, but—"

"Uh, no, you're fine! Uh, I thought Agenda—"

Man from Mundania

23

"She moved out this morning. She said this place was
too disorganized, or something. I'm Anorexia Nervosa."

Moved out this morning? He had never suspected! What
a coincidence! "I'm Grey. Uh, you don't believe in orga-
nization?"

"Oh, no, I'm very disorganized! No discipline at all. I
keep getting fat. You don't think—"

Grey took a solid look at her. She was coat hanger thin.
"If you were any thinner, you'd look like a boy," he said.

She laughed nervously. "Oh, you're just saying that!
I'm so fat, I hate it! I thought if I lived alone, maybe I
could reduce, and look pretty."

As it turned out, this was no innocent ploy. Anorexia
truly believed she was fat, and continually dieted to make
herself thinner. It was awkward eating with her, because
she barely pecked at her food, leaving most of it on the
plate though she looked as if she were starving. He tried
to reassure her, but she simply would not believe she was
thin enough.

"I'm afraid she's going to keel over any moment from
hunger!" Grey exclaimed in the privacy of his apartment.
"Then they'll think that I'm somehow to blame."

YOU WISH A DIFFERENT GIRL?

"I guess so."

CHOOSE: ALIMONY, BEZOAR, BULIMIA, CATHARTIC,
CHLAMYDIA, CONNIPTION—

"No, no, wait!" Grey cried. He had done a smidgeon
of research in the interim, because of his association with
Anorexia, and so had a notion what to expect from Bu-
limia, Bezoar, Conniption, or Cathartic.

DYSLEXIA, EMETIC, EMPHYSEMA, ENIGMA, EUPHORIA—

"Dyslexia!" he cried, realizing that the computer would
not stop until he made a choice.

GO TO THE—

"I know!" He opened his door, crossed the hall, and
knocked.

Sure enough, a new girl was there. She was a blue-eyed
blonde, and looked neither fat nor thin. "Oh, you must
be the nice young man across the hall!" she exclaimed.
"Anorexia told me—"

24

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

25

"Uh, yes. Uh, you don't have any hang-ups about eat-
ing, do you?"

She blinked in cute surprise. "Why no. Should I?"
Dyslexia seemed like the perfect girl. Then he discov-
ered that she couldn't read. There was something wrong
with her eyes or with her brain, so that she saw things
backwards or upside down. She had managed to finesse
her way through classes, for she was bright enough and
had good legs, but it was a chore to get through a written
homework assignment. He had to read the material to her
and correct her odd errors of writing. This soon became
tedious.

YOU HAVE A PROBLEM?

There was the Worm again! "I like her, but—"

The screen printed the list of names. Grey knew better
than to choose Emetic or Euthanasia, and wasn't sure about
Enigma, so he chose Euphoria.

Euphoria was luscious. Her black hair swirled down
around her cleavage like a living thing, and her eyes were
hypnotically intense. She was extremely friendly, too. But
very soon he discovered what she was into. "But I don't,
uh, do the drug scene!" he protested.

"Try it, you'll like it," she urged, proffering a cigarette
of strange design. "This stuff will send you to the moon
and stars, and you will float for eternity!"

That was exactly what he was afraid of. He fled.

YOU HAVE A PROBLEM?

He tried one more time, passing over Melanoma, Mi-
asma, Treblinka, and Polyploidy in favor of one that
sounded safe: Salmonella. That turned out to be a mis-
take. Sal was a great cook, but the food turned out to be
contaminated.

Now, waking weak and bleary, he had finally caught
on: "Worm, you're doing it deliberately! You are offering
me only treacherous girls!"

I AM NOT WORM. THAT WAS ONLY THE INSTALLATION

"All right, already! So I'll call you Sending! Now why
are you finding me only girls who are trouble?"

HOW COULD YOU SAY SUCH A THING!

"Every one of them has something wrong with her! If
you can't do better than that, I don't want any! All that's
happened has been a lot of heartache and my grades de-
scending to D +! Let's give up on girls and concentrate on
scholastics."

TRY ONE MORE GIRL.

"No! I'm through with women! I want to make good
grades and be something in the world!"

TRY ONE MORE GIRL.

So it was that way. He could not out argue the com-
puter; it only repeated itself indefinitely. "All right: one
more girl. And when that one messes up, it's grades."

CHOOSE—

"No you don't! All those names are pied! I don't care
about the name! Just find me a good girl, one I can be
with and—"

AGREED.

"No tricks, now, or the deal's off! Any little pretext and
I'll dump her! You got that, Worm—1 mean, Sending?"

GO TO THE APARTMENT ACROSS THE HALL.

"All right! One more time!" Because, after all, he did
need a girl. Without one, he would be reduced to having
to do his homework, which was a fate only half a smid-
geon this side of oblivion.

Grumpily, still in his rumpled pajamas though he saw
by the bleary clock on the hall wall that it was nearly
noon, he knocked on the apartment door.

The door cracked open and a blue eye peered out.
"You're not a monster, are you?" she inquired.

Grey had to smile. "Well, I do feel like one at the
moment, but as far as I know, that's temporary. Who are
you?"

She opened the door wider, reassured. "Oh, good, a
human person! I was afraid that in this horror house it
would be much worse. I'm Ivy."

"I'm Grey. Are you a normal girl?"

Now she laughed. "Of course not! I'm a princess!"




26 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 27

Well, she had a sense of humor! Despite his best inten-
tion, he liked her. Maybe the Sending really was playing
it straight this time.

Ivy invited him in, and they talked. She seemed just as
eager to know about him and his situation as he was to
know about her. Soon he was telling her all about his
dreary life, which somehow seemed much less dull when
she was listening. Ivy was an attractive girl about a year
his junior, with blue eyes and fair hair that sometimes
reflected with a greenish tint, evidently picking up what-
ever color was near her. She had been frightened at first
but now was relaxed, and was a fun person to be with.

But there were some definitely odd things about her.
For one thing, she seemed quite unfamiliar with this city,
or indeed, this country, perhaps even this world. He had
to show her how the stove worked and even how to open
a can of peas. "What funny magic!" she exclaimed,
watching the electric can opener.

For it seemed that she believed in magic. She claimed
to be from a magic land called Xanth, spelled with an X,
where she was a princess and pies grew on trees. So did
shoes and pillows. Monsters roamed the jungles, and she
even had a pet dragon called Stanley Steamer.

She was obviously suffering delusions. Sending had
mousetrapped him again. But by the time he was sure of
this, it was too late: he liked Ivy too well to let her go.
She was a great girl, apart from her dreamland. Since her
delusion was harmless, he decided to tolerate it.

But there were hurdles. One came when she realized
that he was not teasing her about his situation. Her face
clouded with horror. "You mean, this isn't a setting in the
gourd? This really is Mundania?"

That was a quaint way of putting it! "That's right. Mun-
dania. No magic."

"Oh, this is worse than I ever dreamed!" she ex-
claimed. "Drear Mundania!"

She had that right! His life had been about as drear as
it could get—until she came into it. "But what are you
doing here if you didn't know you were coming?" he
asked. For the sake of compatibility, he did not debate her

Xanth delusion; he would find out where she really was
from, eventually. The truth was, he rather liked her dream
realm; it had a special quality of appeal. Pies growing on
trees—that certainly sounded better than canned beans!

"I used the Heaven Cent," she explained matter-of-
factly. She lifted a common old style penny she wore on
a chain around her neck. "It was supposed to take me
where I was most needed, which is where the Good Ma-
gician is lost. But the curse must have—oh, no!''

He was catching on to the rules of her magic land. "You
mean it would have taken you there, but a curse made it
go wrong? So you're stuck where you shouldn't be?"

"Yes," she said tragically, near tears. "Oh, how am I
to get out of this? There's no magic in Mundania!"

"That's for sure." Yet somehow he wanted to help her
to return to that magic land, even though he knew it wasn't
real. Her belief was so firm, so touching!

"Oh, Grey, you've got to help me get back to Xanth!"
she exclaimed.

What could he say? "I'll dowhat I can."

She flung her arms around him and kissed him. She was
an expressive girl. He knew she was suffering from a per-
vasive delusion, and that sooner or later the authorities
would pick her up and return her to whatever institution
she had escaped from, but he also knew that he liked her.
That made his dilemma worse.

Grey did what he could. He took Ivy to the college
library and looked up Xanth. It turned out to be a prefix,
"xantho," meaning "yellow," that connected to various
terms. Ivy said that wasn't what she wanted. The library
was a loss.

Then, on the way back to the apartment building. Ivy
spied something in a store window. "There's Xanth!" she
exclaimed, pointing.

Grey looked. It was a paperback book. On it was a star
proclaiming "A New Xanth Novel!" Did Ivy think she
came from this book?

"There's Chex!" she continued.

"Chex?"




28 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 29

"The winged centaur. She's actually four years younger
than me, but she seems older because her sire's Xap the
hippogryph, and monsters mature faster than human folk,
so she matured halfway faster than I did, and she's married
now and has a foal, Che. And there's Volney Vole, who
can't say his esses, only he thinks we're the ones who have
it wrong. And—"

"This book—it really describes where you think you're
from?" he demanded incredulously.

She faced him, baffled. "Where I think I'm from?"

"This book—it's fantasy!"

"Of course! Don't you believe me?"

Damn! He had his foot in it now! Why hadn't he thought
to avoid the issue? "I believe—you think you're from
there," he said carefully.

"I am from Xanth!" she retorted. "Look in the book!
I'm in there, I know!" But she was perilously close to
tears.

Grey wavered. Should he get the book and check? But
if she was in it, what would it prove? Simply that she had
read the book and made it the focus of her delusion. Be-
sides, he remained broke.

"Uh, I'm sure you're right," he said. "I don't need to
look in the book. '

That was a half truth, but it mollified her. They contin-
ued walking back to the apartment building.

Grey's mind was seething with thoughts. Now he knew
where Ivy thought she was from, but he didn't know
whether to be relieved or alarmed. It wasn't a land of her
own invention—but was it any better as a land someone
else had invented? The delusion was the same. Still, it did
offer some insight into her framework; if he got the book
and read it, he would at least be able to relate to the things
she did.

Still, he wished that she had a better notion of the dis-
tinction between fantasy and reality. She was such a nice
girl in other respects, the perfect girl, really, and he could
really like her a lot, if only—

Could like her a lot? He already did! Which made it
that much worse.

In the hallway she stopped. "This can't be Mundania!"
she exclaimed.

"Where else would it be?" he asked warily.

"Because we can understand each other!" she said ex-
citedly. "We speak the same language!"

"Well, sure, but—"

"Mundanes speak gibberish! They can't be understood
at all, unless there is magic to translate what they say into
real speech. But you are perfectly intelligible!"

"I should hope so." Was this the beginning of a break-
through? Was she coming to terms with reality? "What
language do they speak in Xanth?"

"Well, it's the language. The human language, I mean.
All human folk speak it, just as all dragon folk speak Dra-
gonese, and all trees speak tree-talk. Grundy Golem can
talk to any of them, and my little brother Dolph when he
becomes one, but the rest of us can't, because our talents
are different. Not that it matters much, usually, because
all the partbreeds speak human too, like the centaurs and
harpies and naga, and those are mostly whom we deal
with. But the Mundanes are sort of crazy; they speak all
different languages and can't even understand each other
a lot of the time; it's as if each group of them is a different
animal species. Only in Xanth do they speak the human
language. So this has to be an aspect of Xanth. You almost
had me fooled!''

Just when he thought she was getting better, she got
worse! But because he liked her, and knew how sensitive
she was to criticism, he spoke cautiously. "How do you
know that you aren't speaking Mundanian? I mean, that
maybe this is Mundania, and you can speak our language
when you really want to?"

Ivy considered. Then she shook her head. "No, that's
impossible. I've never been to Mundania, so I've had no
way to learn its language. So this has to be an aspect of
Xanth. What a relief!"

"But if this is Xanth, then everything I've known all
my life is a delusion!" Grey said, hoping to shock her into
some awareness of the problem.

"I know," she said sympathetically. "You're such a




30

Mgn from Mundania

Man from Mundania

31

nice man, I hate to have it be like this, but you will have
to face the truth sometime. I'll do my best to help you
with it."

Grey opened his mouth, but closed it again, baffled. She
had the situation reversed! How was he ever going to get
through to her?

"Let me think about it," she said. "First I'll figure out
a way to convince you. Then we can go look for the Good
Magician, who must be somewhere near here. Then we
can guide him home, and the Quest will finally be done."

She expected to convince him! Well, maybe that was
best, after all; when she realized that she couldn't con-
vince him, maybe he would be able to convince her.

The next several days were indecisive. Grey's check
came, and he paid his rent and bought more cans of beans,
and, against his better judgment, that copy of the Xanth
novel Ivy had remarked on together with its sequel. He
stayed up late to read it, though he knew he should either
be doing his homework or sleeping.

It was a story of three unlikely travelers who sought to
rid a valley of demons. Sure enough. Ivy was there—but
she was only ten years old! So it could hardly be the same
girl.

He glanced at the sequel. There Ivy was fourteen. Well,
if this was about three years later, she could be the same
one! This was the story of her little brother's Quest for the
missing Good Magician. But first he had to finish reading
the first novel.

He fell asleep over the book and dreamed of Xanth. He
was hungry, so instead of opening a can of beans he
plucked a fresh pie from a pie tree. Suddenly he liked
Xanth very well, for he was long since sick of beans.

He woke, and wondered wouldn't it be nice if there
really could be such a magic land! No more beans, no
more Freshman English, no more bare cheap apartment!
Just warmth and fun and free pies! And Ivy!

His eye saw the computer screen. The computer was
on, but the screen was dark; it dimmed itself after half an

hour if left alone, so as not to wear itself out. On impulse
he rose and went to it. "Does Xanth exist?" he asked it.
The screen brightened, i THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK! YES.
"I mean, as a real place, not just something in a fantasy
novel?"

THAT DEPENDS.

This was interesting! "Depends on what?"

ON WHETHER YOU BELIEVE.

Oh. "You mean, it exists for Ivy and not for me, be-
cause she believes in it and I don't?"

YES.

Grey sighed. "So anything that anybody believes in,
exists for that person? That's not much help.''

TOUGH.

"Are you sassing me, you dumb machine? I ought to
turn you off!"

DO NOT DO THAT, the screen printed quickly.

But Grey, miffed, reached out to push the On/Off switch.

YOU'LL BE SOR

Then the screen went dark as he completed his motion.
It was done. He had been foolish to leave it on so long.

He returned to his bed and went to sleep almost im-
mediately. This time he dreamed of Ivy, whom he was
coming to like very well indeed, despite all logic.

In the morning he got up, dressed, and stepped out to
knock on Ivy's door. They had been having breakfasts to-
gether, and other meals too, because they got along so well.
Apparently the first girl, Agenda, had left a good deal of
food on the shelves, and Ivy was using what remained of
that. Whatever it was, it was better than more beans!

Ivy opened the door, and smiled when she saw him,
gesturing him inside. Her hair was mussed, but she seemed
prettier than ever to him. She was neither voluptuous in
the manner of Euphoria, nor skinny in the manner of An-
orexia; for his taste she was just right.

"Uh, I was reading that Xanth book last night," he
began as he stepped in. "It—"

He broke off, for she was staring at him. "Europe tal-
cum giddiness!" she exclaimed.




32 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 33

"What?"

"Icon nut United States ewer tale!"

Grey gaped. Had she gone entirely crazy? Or was it a
joke? "Uh—"

She looked at him, comprehension coming. "Yukon
tundra stammer eater?"

"I can't understand you either," he agreed. Then did a
doubletake. He had understood her—in a way!

"Mafia theist Monday error!" she exclaimed.

Grey shook his head; she had lost him again.

"Buttery cookie unstable yodel fourteen?" she demanded.

"I don't know—I just don't know! Something happened,
and suddenly we can't communicate. It's almost as if a trans-
lator were turned off—"

He did a second double take. Turned off? Could his
computer have anything to do with this?

"Pardon me," he said, and hurried back to his room.

He turned on the computer. It took a few seconds to
warm up; then the screen lighted.

RY, it concluded. He remembered: it had been in the
process of telling him he'd be sorry.

"Is this your mischief. Sending?" he demanded.

I TOLD YOU NOT TO TURN ME OFF. THE MISCHIEF IS
YOURS.

' 'That's Com-Pewter!'' Ivy exclaimed at the door.

"You know this machine?" Grey asked. Then: "You're
talking my language again!"

"You're not talking gibberish anymore!" she agreed.
"I can understand you again!"

"What's this about the computer?" he asked. "Do you
know about computers?"

"Com-Pewter is an evil conniving machine," she said.
"He rewrites reality to suit himself. If you're in his
clutches—"

"I'm not in anyone's clutches!" Then he reconsidered. That
chain of girls, starting with Agenda and ending with Ivy her-
self—the Sending program had been responsible! When he
turned it off, he could no longer talk with Ivy. Obviously there
was a connection. "We'd better talk," he said.

"Yes," she agreed quickly. "But not here!"

"Not while this thing is listening!" he said. He reached
to turn it off, but hesitated. They couldn't talk, if they
spoke gibberish to each other!

So he left the computer on, and went to her room. Ob-
viously that wasn't beyond the machine's range, because
its translation still worked, but maybe it couldn't actually
eavesdrop on what they were saying.

"Now I'm not sure where we are," Ivy said. "If this
is Mundania, we shouldn't be able to understand each
other, and that happened for a while, but magic doesn't
work in Mundania either, and it takes magic to make
Mundane speech intelligible. So if there's magic—"

"I have this funny program," Grey said. "It talks to
me without my having to type in—well, anyway, I don't
think it's magic, but—"

"Program?"

"It's a set of instructions for the computer. It's called
Sending, and it—well, that computer hasn't been the same
since. It does things it never did before, couldn't do be-
fore, and it seems, well, alive. It—1, uh, wanted a girl-
friend, and—"

"And it brought me?" she asked.

For a moment he feared she was offended, but then she
smiled. "It brought you," he agreed.

"But it was the Heaven Cent that brought me here."

"Maybe the computer knew you were coming."

"Maybe. But Com-Pewter doesn't hesitate to rewrite
events to his purpose. Are you sure the Good Magician
isn't here?"

"This is Mundania! No magicians here." But then he
remembered Sending, and wasn't sure.

"Humfrey could be here, but then he couldn't do magic.
He would look like a small, gnomelike old man. His wife's
tall and—" She made motions with her hands.

"Statuesque?"

"And his son Hugo, my friend—"

Grey felt a shiver, not pleasant. "Your friend?"

' 'From childhood. We were great companions. But we were
already growing apart, and for the last seven years I haven't




34

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

35

seen him at all, of course. But I'm sure none of them are
happy, if they're stuck in Mundania. So if they are here—"

"I haven't seen any people like that. But of course I
don't know many people in the city."

"Either they are here and that's why the Heaven Cent
brought me here and the magic's working, or they aren't
here and Murphy's curse sent me awry and it's another
picklement."

"What kind of curse?"

"Magician Murphy made a curse a long time ago, and we
don't knew whether it sdll has effect. But if it does, it could
have sent me to the wrong place, and this could be Mundania.''

"My name is Murphy," Grey said. "My father is Ma-
jor Murphy, and I'm Grey Murphy."

She stared at him with a peculiar intensity. Then she
shook her head. "No, it couldn't be. Magician Murphy
lived almost nine hundred years ago."

"Maybe Murphy's curse sent you to the nearest Mur-
phy," he said jokingly.

But she took it seriously. "Yes, that could be. It could
be the last gasp of the curse. So it's not coincidence, but
it's not where I was supposed to go either. I was supposed
to go where I was most needed."

"I thought you were supposed to go where the Good
Magician was."

' 'Yes. We assumed that was where I was most needed,
because of his message."

"Skeleton Key to Heaven Cent," Grey said.

Ivy jumped. "How did you know that?"

"I, uh, got that book. It says—"

"Oh, of course. The Muse has them, but someone
sneaks them out to Mundania every so often. It's a bad
business, but they can't seem to fix the leak. Anyway,
Dolph found the Skeleton Key—that turned out to be
Grace'1 Ossein—"

"Who?"

"I thought you read the book."

"Not that far, I guess. I fell asleep. But I did leam how
the Good Magician disappeared."

"Grace'1 is a walking skeleton. She's very nice."

"Oh, like Marrow Bones."

"Yes. So she was the Skeleton Key, and she helped get
the Heaven Cent. So it seems natural that this was how
the Good Magician wanted us to find him. But if the curse
diverted me to a Murphy instead of to Humfrey—"

"Maybe the Heaven Cent worked properly, only the
Good Magician wasn't the one who needed you most."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

Grey gulped. "I uh, really needed someone like you. I
mean—" He faltered, embarrassed.

"But you don't believe in magic!"

"I wish I did!" he exclaimed fervently. "I wish—I wish
I could believe in whatever you believe in, so I could be
wherever you are, and—" But he couldn't continue, be-
cause he knew he was making even more of a fool of
himself than usual.

"You needed me," Ivy said, musingly.

"I guess I'd better go now."

"You don't believe in Xanth, so you don't believe I'm
a princess or that I have any magic," she said.

"But I do believe in you!" he cried desperately.

She gazed at him with a new expression, appraisingly.
"So it really doesn't make any difference to you whether
I'm royal or common, or magic or not."

"I wish it did! Oh, Ivy, I think you're such a wonderful
girl, if only it wasn't for this—this—"

"Delusion," she concluded.

"I didn't say that!"

"But it's true."

That he could not deny. He made a supremely awkward
retreat to his room. If only he could have found some way
to express his feeling without messing up!

The computer screen lighted as he entered. YOU HAVE

A PROBLEM?

"Stay out of this!" he snapped, and struck the On/Off
switch viciously, shutting it down. Then, unable to con-
centrate on anything else, he sat on the bed and resumed
reading the novel.




Man from Mundania         37

Chapter 3. Signs

I vy sat and thought for some time. She had been
so sure that this was an aspect of Xanth, perhaps a setting
in the gourd, and that Grey was an accomplice in the de-
ception. The only question was whether it was witting or
unwitting. He seemed so nice, but of course that could be
part of the challenge. She had to figure out where she was
so she could reach the Good Magician. After all, if this
place was so devious that not even Humfrey, who knew
everything, could find his way out, it surely would not be
easy for her either. So she knew that nothing might be as
it seemed, and she had to question everything. Something
wanted her to believe this was Mundania, but that business
about the language had given it away. She had known it

was really Xanth.

Then the language had stopped. Was this another trick,

to deceive her by patching up the prior oversight? Grey
had seemed genuinely confused—but again, if he was set
up to play a part, he might really believe this was Mun-
dania. She had tested him by trying to use her talent to
enhance him, so that he would become more obviously
whatever he was and show his real nature; but there hadn't
seemed to be any effect. In fact, her magic seemed inop-
erative. Even her magic mirror didn't work; it just showed
her reflection, her hair so pale that no one would know it

•*£.

was supposed to have a green hue. It would be easy to
believe this really was Mundania, except for the language.

Then she had seen Com-Pewter. Suddenly things had
fallen into place! Obviously Pewter couldn't operate in
Mundania, because only magic animated him. The strang-
est thing, though, was the fact that Grey could turn Pewter
off. That meant that Grey had power over Pewter, and that
was mind-boggling.

Then she had learned how Grey saw it—that a magic
disk had come in to animate Pewter—and realized that this
might actually be Mundania. After all, some bits of magic
did operate in Mundania, such as rainbows, and Centaur
Amolde had been able to carry an aisle of magic there.
Maybe that disk had come from Xanth, sent by Com-
Pewter, and made the Mundane machine turn magic. Then
it had used its magic to enable Ivy to talk clearly in Mun-
dania, or to make Mundane speech intelligible to her, or
both. When it had been shut off, that had stopped, and the
full reality of drear Mundania had manifested.

That seemed to make more sense than anything else.
But Grey had not changed at all when the machine was
off; he was independent of it and seemed just as confused
as she had been. So maybe it was foolish, but she believed
that Grey really was what he seemed to be: a nice young
man.

But there had been any number of nice men, not all of
them young, who had played up to her in Xanth. She knew
why: because she was a princess. Any man would like to
marry a princess, even if she never got to be King of
Xanth. So she had never trusted that. She had wanted,
perhaps foolishly, to be liked for herself alone, not for her
position or her Sorceress magic or the power of her father.
Thus her romantic life had been scant, in sharp contrast
to that of her little brother. She liked Nada so well that
she had entertained more than a whimsical notion of pay-
ing a call on Nada's big brother, Naldo, who was surely a
fine figure of a prince. But if Dolph married Nada when
he came of age, it would not be expedient for her to marry
Nada's brother, so she had not followed up on that.

Now, suddenly, she had discovered that Grey really did




38

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

39

like her for herself, because he thought her magic and her
position were part of a delusion. Thus everything she had
told him had counted against her, in Grey's estimation—
yet he obviously liked her very well. Her mother, Irene,
had long since taught her the signals of male interest and
deception. Her mother really did not quite trust men; her
dictum was "Never let a man get the upper hand—there's
no telling where he might put it." Ivy had known that
from the time she was two, and kept it in mind. But poor
Grey obviously had no notion of upper hands; he couldn't
say anything to a girl without somehow bumbling it. That
was one of his endearing qualities.

Now Grey had beaten a confused retreat, and she had
to decide what to do. If this really was Mundania, with
no magic except for that Com-Pewter extension, and the
Good Magician wasn't here, she would just have to extri-
cate herself from the foul-up that Magician Murphy's curse
had made. Imagine: getting sent to a Murphy instead of
Humfrey! She would have to find her way back to Xanth
with the Heaven Cent, so that Electra could recharge it
and they could try again, this time without the curse. But
how could she do that?

She knew the answer: Dolph had learned of a secret
way into Xanth that bypassed the usual barrier. It went
through the gourd. It was in Centaur Isle, or the Mundane
equivalent. She just had to get there and go through.

But how could she get through Mundania, when she
couldn't even speak its language? For now she knew that
the moment she left the vicinity of the local Com-Pewter,
the gibberish would resume. She had no Mundane money,
which she knew was necessary, because here things did
not grow on trees. Well, she had the cent—but she cer-
tainly wasn't going to use that for money!

She would have to have help. That meant Grey—if he
would do it. Well, she would just have to ask him.

She stood, adjusting her blouse and skirt. This Mun-
dane clothing wasn't as good as Xanth clothing; it chafed
and wore. But it had to do. She was just lucky that Agenda
had been about her own size!

She went to the door and out and across, and knocked
on Grey's door. In a moment he answered.

"Grey, I need to ask you—" she began.

"Xbju—xfsfjoup hjccfsjti bhbjo!" he exclaimed, turn-
ing away.

Oh. He must have turned off the Pewter device again.
He would have to turn it on again before they could con-
verse.

Even as she realized that, she had a notion. "Wait!"
she said, catching his arm. For there was a point she
wanted to make while Pewter wasn't watching.

He paused. "Xibu?"

She smiled, turning him gently around to face her
squarely. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, not
hard.

She drew back. He stood as if stunned. "Zpv'sf opu
nbe bu nf?" he asked, amazed.

"It's all right. Grey," she said, smiling. Then she in-
dicated Pewter.

Dazedly, he walked to the machine and touched the but-
ton that turned him on. In a moment the screen came to
life.

IF YOU PERSIST IN THIS FOOLISHNESS—the screen
printed.

"Well, you aggravated me," Grey retorted. "But now
I need to talk to Ivy."

OF COURSE.

Grey made as if to return to her room, but Ivy held up
a hand in negation. "It's all right if Pewter listens," she
said. "I'll need to talk to him in a moment anyway."

NATURALLY, the screen said smugly.

She faced Grey. "I believe I am in Mundania," she
said. "I need to return to Xanth. Will you help me?"

"But-"

"But you don't believe in Xanth," she said. "But would
you believe if I showed you Xanth?"

"You see, I think I know how to get there. But I need
help. If you will come with me, and talk to people when
I can't—"




40

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

41

"Oh, of course," he agreed.

She faced the screen. "Com-Pewter, you knew I was
coming, didn't you?"
YES.

"And you know where I'm from."
YES.
"Will you tell Grey where I'm from?"

YES.

"Uh, you have to tell it," Grey said. "It takes things
literally."

"Tell him," she said.

PRINCESS IVY IS FROM XANTH.

Grey stared. "You say that? But how can a machine
believe in fantasy?"

WHEN IT IS TRUE.

"You see, we could have asked him all along," Ivy
said. "Pewter, why am I here?"

GREY NEEDS YOU MOST.

"But what about Good Magician Humfrey?"

I KNOW NOTHING OF HIM.

So it was the curse! She hadn't been sent to Humfrey,
but to the Mundane most in need of her company. Yet a
mystery remained. "Pewter, why are you here?" she
asked.

TO FACILITATE YOUR ENCOUNTER.

"But you don't care anything about me!" she protested.

IRRELEVANT STATEMENT.

So Pewter wasn't telling. She wasn't surprised. She con-
sidered herself lucky that he had cooperated to this extent.

She turned again to Grey. "If you will help me, I will
show you Xanth," she said.

Grey evidently remained bemused by Pewter's endorse-
ment of her origin. He might not believe, yet, but at least
he was having more trouble disbelieving. That was prog-
ress of a sort. "I'll, uh, help you if I can."

"You will have to guide me to No Name Key."

"To what?"

A KEY SOUTH OF FLORIDA, the screen said helpfully.

"But that's far away from here! How—"

HITCHHIKE.

"But my classes! I can't skip—"

CHOOSE: IVY OR FRESHMAN ENGLISH.

Grey was taken aback. "Well, if you put it that way—"

YOU HAVE VIRTUALLY NO APTITUDE FOR SCHOLARSHIP.

Grey became suspicious. "You act as if you want me
logo!"

YES. THEN MY ASSIGNMENT WILL BE COMPLETED.

Ivy, too, was suspicious. "What is your assignment?"

TO GET GREY MURPHY INTO XANTH.

Grey shook his head. "I don't believe this!"

YOUR BELIEF IS IRRELEVANT. TURN ME OFF WHEN YOU
DEPART.

"This is absolutely crazy!" Grey exclaimed. "My com-
puter wants me to go into a delusion!''

"You understand," Ivy reminded him, "we won't be
able to talk intelligibly to each other until we get to Xanth.
I will have to keep my mouth shut in Mundania."

"But we can't go, just like that! My father—"

"Look at it this way," Ivy said. "If we don't find Xanth,
you can come back here in a few days, and Pewter will
have to help you pass all your classes, so your father
doesn't find out and turn him off forever. But if we do find
Xanth—"

Grey got his wits about him. "Let's say, for the sake of
nonsensical argument, that we find it and you go there—
where does that leave me? Alone again, and far from
home, and in trouble when I get home!"

"You're welcome to come into Xanth with me," Ivy
said. "I thought that was understood. But I assumed you
wouldn't want to."

"I, uh, if you go there, I want to go there too. Even if
it is crazy."

Ivy smiled. "You might like it—even if it is crazy."

Grey shrugged, defeated. "When do we start?"

"Now," Ivy said, delighted.

"Now? But—"

NOW, the screen said.

Grey tried to marshal another protest, but Ivy smiled at
him, and he melted. She had seen Nada stifle Dolph sim-




42         Man from Mundania

ilarly; it was nice to know that such magic worked, even
in Mundania.

"Now," Grey agreed weakly.

They delayed only long enough to pack some clothes
and food, because neither grew on trees in drear Mun-
dania. Then they set off.

Hitchhiking turned out to be a special kind of magic: a
person put out one thumb, and it caused the moving ob-
jects called cars to stop. Some of them, anyway. Cars
turned out to be hollow inside, with comfortable seats and
belts to hold the people down in case they bounced out.
Each one had at least one person riding in it, and seemed
to go more or less where that person wanted. But there
were obstacles: glowing lights hung above the car path and
flashed bright red the moment any car approached. Then
the driver muttered something under his breath that
sounded villainous even in gibberish and fumed for half a
minute before the light changed its mind and flashed green.
The driver would start up, his car's round feet squealing—
only to be similarly caught by the next flashing red light.
Ivy wished she could understand the purpose of this magic,
but suspected it would not make much sense even if she
had been able to comprehend the dialect.

Several car rides later, night was falling, as it did in
Mundania much the way it did in Xanth. Apparently the
sun feared darkness just as much here, for it was nowhere
to be seen as the night closed. They stopped hitchhiking
and ate some beans from Grey's can, then looked for a
place to spend the night.

Grey was somewhat confused about this, so Ivy took
over. They were at the edge of a big village—called a
town, as she remembered—and sure enough, there was a
barn. "Cvu xf dbo'u kvtu—" Grey protested, hanging
back. So she kissed him again and led him by the hand
around to the back, where she found a door. Inside was a
loft filled with hay, just as she had expected.

But instead of leaving the hay all nice and fluffy and
loose, the idiotic Mundanes had somehow compacted it
into cubes! So it was all hard and bumpy. But they were

Man from Mundania          43

able to scrape together wisps and make a serviceable bed.
She made him lie down, then she lay down beside him
and spread their jackets over them as blankets, as well as
more hay. It was comfortable enough.

Once Grey realized what she was about, he cooperated
readily enough. Side by side, they fell asleep.

Next day they got up, dusted off the hay, and sneaked
out of the barn unobserved. Ivy was hungry, and knew
Grey was too, but realized that it was better to get moving
early than to pause for more beans. What a relief it would
be to get back to Xanth where there was good food for the
taking!

The cars zoomed by without stopping, despite the magic
of the thumb. Obviously even this limited spell was not
reliable, in Mundania. Grey muttered something unintel-
ligible, but she understood the gist: the people in the magic
vehicles were all in such a hurry that none could pause to
do a favor for anyone else. That seemed to be typical of
this dull land.

Then a pretty blue car slowed. "Ppqt!" Grey said,
seeming chagrined rather than pleased. He tried to back
away from the road, but the blue car pulled to the side to
intercept him.

There were two people inside, dressed in blue, with
squashed flat caps and shiny copper buttons. Ivy recog-
nized the type: demons! She had seen them on the Tap-
estry. These were of the variety known as Flatfeet, who
were devoted to interfering with travelers. No wonder Grey
was alarmed.

But it was too late. The Platfoot on the right gestured
to them. Ivy knew better than to try to run; demons could
always catch normal folk, unless there was strong coun-
tering magic. However, she also knew that the hassling
was usually harmless; the demons liked to make people
assume odd positions, and to pat them all along their bod-
ies, and ask embarrassing questions, but after they had had
their fun they generally moved on to other things.

"Xifsf zpv Ijet hpjoh? Epo'u zopx ju't jmmfhbm up
ijudiijif? Mfu't tff vpvs JE," the Platfoot said gruffly.




44         Man from Mundania

Grey tried to explain, in similar gibberish, but of course
the demons didn't listen; they never did. They made him
take out his wallet, which was a little flat folder containing
various cards and the odd mundane "money" of which
Grey had very little. They perused his cards, and the nearer
Flatfoot frowned in his best demonic fashion. Apparently

Grey had passed inspection.

"Cvu uif hjsm—tif mppit voefsbhf. Jbwf up difdl ifs

upp."

The Flatfoot turned to Ivy and held out his fat hand,

palm up. Oh, no—was he going to go into the patting
routine? She really wouldn't care for that.

Grey turned to her, holding up his wallet, which the
Flatfoot had returned. Suddenly she realized that the de-
mon wanted to look at her wallet—and of course she didn't
have one. She had observed that the wallets of most Mun-
dane women were much larger than those of the men, and
contained everything except kitchen sinks, but she didn't
have one of those either. "I don't have any," she ex-
plained.

The demon's eyes widened, and Ivy realized her mis-
take. She had agreed with Grey to keep silent, to let him
do the talking, because what she said sounded almost hu-
morously garbled to Mundanes. They had compared notes,
after the first siege of garbling, and laughed. When she
told him "You're talking gibberish" he had heard "Eu-
rope talcum giddiness," and when she asked "You can't
understand me either?" it had come out "Yukon tundra
stammer eater?" But the worst had been when she asked
"But why could I understand you before, then?" and he
had heard something like "Buttery cookie unstable yodel
fourteen?" Discussing that, she had raided his meager re-
frigerator—a box that was magically cold inside—and
found cookies and butter. Sure enough, there had been
five of them, which crumbled when she tried to spread the
hard butter on them (unstable) and become fourteen frag-
ments. They had laughed and laughed. And there was the
key to their relationship: they got along well together,
laughing at the same things. She had never had that ex-
perience with a man before, only with Nada and Electra.

Man from Mundania          45

But now the demon was gazing at her in annoyed won-
der—demons were good at such expressions—and she
knew she was in trouble. How could she explain that she
was from Xanth, when the Flatfeet would not believe in
Xanth? But, as Grey had warned her, if any Mundanes
thought she really believed in Xanth, they would assume
she was crazy, and that would be worse mischief. So even
if she could talk their language, it wouldn't do much good.

What could she do? She shut her mouth and spread her
hands. She had nothing to show them.

"Uibu epftju: tif't b svobxbz!" the Flatfoot said. His
door swung open and he heaved his ponderous bulk out.
"Dpnfpo—xfsfubljoh zpvjo!" he snapped, grabbing Ivy
by the arm.

She looked at Grey for guidance, but he just looked
back helplessly. She understood the problem: it was im-
possible to escape from demons, so it was necessary to
go along with them. Maybe it would be all right.

The two of them were put in the back of the Flatfoot's
car, which then caromed away down the road. Grey held
her hand, trying to provide comfort, though it was evident
that he had little control of the situation. Soon they arrived
at the demon's residence, where male and female Flatfoots
abounded, and there were many of the fierce blue cars
with flashing lights on top. What a fearsome place!

There was more talking, then a matron demoness took
Ivy by the arm. Ivy hung back, not wanting to be sepa-
rated from Grey, but he made a gesture that this was all
right.

The matron took her to a small chamber where there
were chairs and a table. Then she spoke gibberish in a
questioning tone. Ivy merely spread her hands, knowing
better than to speak again.

Then the matron brought out pictures: men, women,
children, table, chair, car—everything was in this collec-
tion, it seemed. She pointed to a picture of a man, then
brought her hand up to her forehead, almost touching the
hairline. Then she flattened her hand and brought it away
from her head, palm down. "Nbo," she said firmly.

What was she up to? Ivy kept her mouth shut.




46

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

47

The matron pointed to a picture of a woman. She made
a fist with her thumb up, then flattened her hand as she
had before, and moved it out at the level of her cheek.
"Xpnbo."

Ivy watched, saying nothing.

The woman pointed to herself, and made the second
gesture again. Then she pointed to Ivy, and made it once
more.

Suddenly Ivy caught on. This gesture indicated a
woman! She lifted her own hand, thumb up, then flattened
it, imitating the gesture.

The matron smiled. She pointed to the picture of the
man.

Ivy promptly made the higher gesture.

"Wfsz hppe!" the matron exclaimed, pleased.

The significance of this was not lost on Ivy. This was a
way to communicate that bypassed the spoken language!
With this she could talk to the Mundanes! Though she
hoped not to be in Mundania much longer, she realized
that her inability to speak their peculiar language could
prevent her from escaping it, because the Mundanes would
think she was unable to speak or was crazy. She needed
to satisfy them that she was a normal person so that they
would leave her alone—and here was the way to do it.

She dived into the sign-language lesson with a ven-
geance. She told herself that she was very smart at this
kind of thing, and therefore she was, because though magic
might not work very well here, her power of enhancement
still worked on herself. She quickly mastered the signs for
"man," "woman," "girl" (merely a smaller "woman")
and got into more general terms, such as the one for going
somewhere: the two index fingers rotating around each
other in the manner of a wheel rolling forward. The ma-
tron was amazed and pleased; it seemed she had never
before had so apt a student.

There was a knock at the door panel, and a Flatfoot
appeared. The matron, startled, glanced at her wrist,
where a funny bracelet was. The ornament had a round
flat surface like that of a sundial, and two little lines whose
position changed magically, because they never changed

while Ivy was looking but were always different when she
looked away and then back at it. Then the matron spoke
rapidly to the Flatfoot, who departed.

The matron faced Ivy and made a gesture toward her
mouth several times, as if pushing something into it. Ivy
was perplexed; what did this mean? Too much talk? Rather
than struggle with that. Ivy inquired about the bracelet.

The matron tapped the back of her wrist with a finger
several times, then made a funny fist and circled it across
her other flat palm. Ivy shook her head; she couldn't make
sense of this. The matron opened her picture book and
pointed to a similar bracelet there, with the word "xbudi"
beneath it. Apparently it was just a special kind of deco-
ration.

Then the Flatfoot reappeared with a package. The ma-
tron took it and opened it. Inside were several sandwiches
and two of the funny Mundane paper boxes of milk.

Ivy made a lightning connection. This was food! The
matron didn't need to make the hand-to-mouth sign again;

it was obvious that it meant "eat." Ivy was famished.
More time had passed than she had realized, and she hadn't
had breakfast anyway. It was now around midday.

The matron gave Ivy two sandwiches and one box of
milk, and took the others herself. Ivy quickly picked up
the terms for "egg salad sandwich" and "milk"—the lat-
ter was most peculiar, involving the squeezing of the two
hands separately as if hauling on short ropes, instead of
the obvious plucking of a milkweed pod—and ate eagerly
as the lesson continued.

Now it was business: the matron was questioning her,
using the signs they had established. Where is Ivy going?

Oops! Ivy understood the question well enough, but how
could she answer? If she said "Xanth," she would be
deemed crazy. But then she saw the way through:

Ivy is going home. The sign for "home" was like the
one for "eat" and "sleep," because home was where a
person usually ate and slept. Xanth was indeed home for
Ivy!

The matron nodded. Who is man?

She meant Grey. That was easy. Friend. The sign con-




48         Man from Mundania

sisted of hooking her right index finger over her left index
finger, then the left over the right, making a double link-
age.

The rest was relatively easy. It seemed that not only

were the Flatfoots worried that Ivy was crazy, they thought
that Grey might be mistreating her or that both of them
were running away from their homes. Ivy had already re-
assured the matron that there was nothing wrong with her
mind, only her language, and now reassured her that Grey
was helping her return home, not run from it. She also
realized that they would have questioned Grey similarly,
not having to use the hand signs, and that he would have
been smart enough to avoid any detail on Xanth. The de-
mons were only trying to help, in their fashion.

Satisfied, the matron brought Ivy back to the main
chamber, and spoke a torrent of gibberish to the demon
in charge. The demon made an "I surrender" gesture and

waved to the back of the room.

Grey appeared. Ivy ran to him and flung herself into his
arms and hugged him closely. What a relief to be with him

again after being captive by the demons!

The demons allowed them to go. In fact, they even ar-
ranged for Ivy and Grey to get a ride in a big car, one that
held about fifty people in twin rows of chairs. But Ivy,
catching on to a good thing, turned back to the matron
and made signs to ask for the picture book of signs. This
was a way she could talk to Grey in Mundania, too! The
matron, who was remarkably nice for a demoness, gave

her the book and a smile.

The big car came and they climbed in and found two
seats together near the rear. Then Ivy opened the picture
book and started teaching Grey the signs.

The "bus," as it turned out to be called, did not go
directly to No Name Key; in the confused Mundane man-
ner it went instead to a huge village, where they had to
get off and go find another bus. But the other bus wasn't
there yet, so they had to wait in the big, crowded building
for several hours. That was really no problem; there were
toilet facilities of the Mundane kind—separate ones for the

Man from Mundania          49

males and females—and places where Grey could buy them
more sandwiches. They used the extra time practicing
signs. Grey was almost as quick as she had been to realize
their usefulness; if they learned all of these signs, they
would not need Com-Pewter to make the Mundane gib-
berish intelligible.

A Mundane man saw them practicing, and approached.
Embarrassed, Grey desisted, but the man surprised them
by using the signs himself. You deaf? he inquired, touch-
ing his ear and then his mouth.

No Ivy signed. Then she did a double take. This man
knew sign language!

It turned out that the man was deaf and had long ex-
perience in using the signs and in something termed "lip
reading" that enabled him to understand the words spoken
by others. He was waiting for the same bus they were, and
had thought they were deaf like him. His name was Henry.
He was glad to give them practice in the signs, for he
could make them with marvelous finesse, so rapidly that
it was impossible for them to follow. But with practice,
he assured them, they too would be able to communicate
like this, so that it was almost as good as regular speech.

Their bus was late, but they hardly noticed. They went
right on practicing, their dialogue becoming increasingly
proficient, though nowhere close to Henry's proficiency.
When the bus came, they took seats beside Henry so they
could keep practicing.

Then their bus broke down. They had to wait for three
more hours for a "relief bus" to resume their journey. It
didn't matter. The other passengers, bored with the delay,
gradually joined in, and Henry became the teacher of a
class. It was evidently a game for some, using signs in-
stead of gibberish, but it was a game that several children
took up with great enthusiasm and aptitude.

The new bus came, and they all transferred to it, and
their journey resumed. Most of the Mundanes lost interest
in the class, but a number stayed with it. For the first time
Ivy was able to talk, in a limited way, directly with Mun-
danes! They turned out to be folk very like herself and




50         Man from Mundania

Grey, traveling to visit friends or family or to new types

of work or just for the fun of it.

Night closed, and finally they returned to their padded
chairs and rested, and Ivy slept. It had been a long day-
but a good one. She was glad, now, that the Flatfoots had
picked them up; she had gained far more than she had
lost, if she had lost anything at all. This sign talk—it was
making Mundania far less frightening, and she was no
longer in as big a hurry to leave it. Of course she realized
that only a few Mundanes used the sign talk. Still, it was

a great discovery.

They came at last to the nearest large village to No
Name Key. Here they had to change buses again. They bid
farewell to their newfound friends and went to the waiting
room, where they slept on benches until morning. This
was like trekking through the jungle in Xanth: it had its
inconveniences, but really wasn't bad when one got ac-
customed to it.

In the morning they rode a smaller bus down toward

what in Xanth would be Centaur Isle, but here was a group
of a squintillion or so islets. They got off at No Name Key
and walked to the region which Dolph had described.
Though the key was small, it turned out to be a fair walk.
At length they came to an ornate gate. This is it! Ivy

signed. Where my brother was!

Grey's face was studiedly neutral. She knew he still
didn't believe in the reality of Xanth, and was wary of
what they might encounter here. But he had agreed to
bring her here, and he intended to see it through. She
understood that determination in him and liked it; Grey
wasn't much of a believer, but he was a decent person
who kept rumbling along on whatever course seemed most

nearly right to him.

We must go in, she signed. Turn key is there.

Grey walked to a box mounted beside the gate and
pressed a button. Evidently this was a magic bell to signal
those inside. Sure enough, a voice sounded from nowhere,
speaking in gibberish. Grey responded.

Tell him who I am. Ivy signed.

Grey paused. Sure? he signed back. Actually he used

Man from Mundania         51

the sign for "agree," touching his forehead and then
aligning his two forefingers together, because they didn't
know the proper one, but she understood well enough.

Yes. Princess Ivy of Xanth. There was no sign for Xanth,
so she used "home." She actually signed "Prince Me
Join Home." Some adaptation was necessary until their
vocabulary of signs expanded.

Grey grimaced, but evidently said it.

There was an abrupt silence from the box. They waited
nervously, knowing that Grey's last statement had had an
effect—but what kind?

Then the words came again. "If you are of Xanth, speak
now."

Ivy jumped. She understood! Com-Pewter must be here!

"I am Princess Ivy of Xanth," she said clearly. "My
brother, Dolph, was here three years ago. He was nine
years old. You helped him; now you must help me."

There was a pause. "With whom was Prince Dolph?"

"He was with Nada Naga, his betrothed. She is my
age."

There was another pause. "Describe Nada."

Ivy remembered. "Oh—she was in the form of a snake,
because she couldn't keep her natural form here."

Then the gate swung inward. "Enter, Princess Ivy."

They stepped in. Grey gaping. It was obvious that he
had never expected this to work.

Turn Key came down the path to meet them, holding
something in one hand. He was a big fat older man, just
as Dolph had described him, only more so. He spoke gib-
berish; then from his hand came words for Ivy: "What
are you doing here in Mundania, Princess Ivy?" Appar-
ently he had a box that could speak both languages.

"The Heaven Cent sent me, but it was a mistake."

"Ah, so Prince Dolph found the Heaven Cent!" the box
exclaimed, after a pause for gibberish that Grey evidently
understood. This did not seem to be the same as Com-
Pewter after all; the box was a golem that translated the
man's Mundane speech. That was a relief; Ivy did not
trust Com-Pewter. "But why didn't he use it himself?"

"He's grounded until he decides which girl to marry,"




52         Man from Mundania

Ivy said. "So I used it instead, only Magician Murphy's
curse must have interfered, because I got sent to Grey

Murphy in Mundania."
They entered Turn's house, which was very nice, with

carpets on the floors and windows looking out on the Key.
"My understanding of such magic is limited," Turn said.
"But I doubt that an eight-hundred-year-old curse could
have such a far-reaching effect. Certainly it would not con-
fuse a Mundane Murphy for the Magician Murphy or cause
the Heaven Cent to go completely haywire. There must be

some better rationale for what occurred."

Ivy remembered that Dolph had mentioned the convo-
luted way that Turn Key expressed himself. She put up
with it. "Anyway, I have to get back to Xanth so we can
try again, and I promised to show Grey what Xanth is
like. You see, he doesn't believe in magic."

"You told a complete Mundane about Xanth?" Turn

asked, appalled.

"It's all right. He doesn't believe it."

"He will if you show it to him!"

"But I have to show him! I don't want him thinking I'm

crazy."

Grey spoke gibberish. In a moment the golem box

translated. "I'm listening to all of this, you know! I'll
concede that you two know a strange language, but you

haven't shown me any magic."

"A skeptic," Turn said. "That's good. If he returns to

his home now, there should be no problem."

"No!" Ivy said sharply. "I want him to see Xanth!"
Turn gazed at her. "Xanth is no place for Mundanes;

you know that. He'd get eaten by the first dragon he en-
countered."

"I'll protect him," Ivy said. "I know my way around

in Xanth. Anyway, I have the magic mirror, so I can get

right in touch with Castle Roogna."

"You intend to take him all the way to Castle Roogna?"

"Of course! So he can meet—"

"Why?"
This brought her up short. "Why?"

Man from Mundania         53

"Why would you want a man from Mundania to meet
your folks?"

"Well, if I—he—I mean—" She fumbled to a halt, con-
fused.

"Because you like him?" Turn asked.

"Well—"

"Do you have any idea how your folks might react, if—"

Grey looked perplexed. "What are you two talking
about? Even in translation it sounds like nonsense!"

Ivy found herself beset by a storm of indecision. Turn
had seen right through a notion she had not even known
she had. She knew very well what he was talking about,
and knew he was right. She should send Grey home to his
college right now.

She looked at Grey. He was absolutely nondescript in
appearance and abilities. He was a nice person—but Mun-
dania was not a good place for nice people. He would
have to go back to what he called Freshman English, and
it would slowly grind his life into mud.

"And if you take him in and he becomes a believer, I
will not feel free to let him pass this portal again," Turn
warned. "We can not allow—"

"I know," Ivy said. "Still—"

"You're a princess; you can do as you like," Turn said
gravely. "But you are young and impetuous, and may bring
incalculable mischief to others."

"I know," Ivy repeated almost inaudibly.

Turn shook his head grimly. "I wash my hands of it."

"What's going on?" Grey demanded via translation.

Ivy took a deep breath. "Grey, I—I like you, and you
helped me a lot, and I promised to show you Xanth.
But-"

He assumed a look of understanding. "But of course
you can't, because it doesn't exist. Look, Ivy, why don't
you come back with me, and—"

That did it. "And I will show you Xanth!" she con-
cluded. "Only, once you are in it, you may not be allowed
to leave. So I really have to warn you—"

Grey shook his head tolerantly. "Let's assume for the
sake of argument that Xanth exists and you take me into




54 Man from Mundania

it and I can't return. What is there for me in Mundania,
as you put it?"

"Freshman English," she said with a smile.
"Right. A fate marginally worse than death. So show
me your Xanth; I'll take my chances. Actually, it would
be sort of nice to be in a land like that, where pies grow
on trees and magic works." He grimaced. "There I go
again, getting foolish. The truth is, I just want to be with
you. Ivy; I don't care where you go, as long as I can be
by your side."

He liked her, as she liked him, without doubt. But he
had no notion of what he was asking for, and she was
wrong to bring him into it. Probably she should send him
back to his dull home. But she knew she wasn't going to.
"Send us through. Turn," she said. "Both of us."
Turn nodded, having expected this. "I must warn you
that the route is not direct. You have to proceed through
the gourd—and that is different for each person. The Night
Stallion will know your identity, so you won't be harmed,
but he does not like having solid folk trespass in the gourd,
so he won't help you either. You will have to find your
own way through, and it might turn out to be a significant
challenge."

"I've been in the gourd before," Ivy said.
"But never with a Mundane companion."
She knew that changed the whole picture. But she was
committed. "We'll do it anyway. Just take us to the
gourd."

Turn sighed. "As you wish. Princess."

Chapter 4. Mountain

'rey and Ivy followed the fat man out to the
rear garden. This was a thoroughly fenced exotic jungle
with pleasant byways and even, by the sound of it, a trick-
ling stream in the background. Then they came to a mon-
strous watermelonlike thing, with a stem on one side and
a hole in the other. This was evidently the "gourd" they
had mentioned that was the route to Xanth. He was sure
there wasn't any more inside that gourd than pulp and
seeds.

Ivy faced him and made signs. Inside talk.

There was another translator box in there? Why not!

Hold hand, she continued.

Gladly! He took her hand. Ivy climbed into the hole,
and he climbed in right after her.

Suddenly they were in a cave that seemed larger than
the gourd itself. Oh—the gourd was merely a faked-up
entrance to this new chamber. Clever!

"This is merely an aspect of Xanth," Ivy said. "It is
where I thought I was before."

"You thought you were in a big gourd," he agreed.
Then he realized that the language barrier was gone; they
were talking directly again! No wait for the translation
computer. This was an improvement.

"We don't have to hold hands, now that we're past the
threshold," she continued. "But stay very close to me,




56          Man from Mundania

Grey, because the world of the gourd isn't like regular
Xanth. It has funny rules, and it can be pretty scary."
"Scary? Like an amusement park horror house? I'm not

worried."

"The gourd is where the bad dreams are made," she

said. "Then the night mares carry them to each sleeper
who deserves them. Nothing here is really real, but it can

terrify almost anyone."

Not really real. Was she coming to her senses and ad-
mitting that Xanth was just a state of mind? That she
wasn't really a princess in a magical land but just a girl
who liked to dream? "Thanks for the warning," he said.

"Also, it is set for each person who enters it, though
usually that's not physical," she continued. "That's why
I entered first, so that my presence would fix it. You had
to be in physical contact with me at the time; otherwise it
would have put you into a separate dream sequence, and
we might never have gotten together again."

"That would have been bad," he agreed. She seemed
to make so much sense! She had really worked out this
fantasy pretty thoroughly. Of course it was modeled on
the Xanth novels, which she must have read a lot more
carefully then he had. Now he wished he hadn't skimmed

parts.

"Just remember: nothing here is really going to hurt

us, as long as we keep to the proper path and don't spook.
But we may be terrified before we get through."

Grey remembered one scene in Xanth, where a party
had made a harrowing trip along the Lost Path where as-
sorted punnish things abounded, and Prince Dolph had
gotten lost in a modem airport: the innocent Xanth idea
of horror. If this horror-house setting was modeled on
that, he had little to worry about. "I'll keep that in mind."

There was light ahead. They proceeded toward it, and
soon the cave opened out into a breathtaking landscape.

It was a mountain, projecting up from gloomy mists
into the sunlight, its curious outlines showing in starkest
relief. It was stepped vaguely like a pyramid with crude
terraces set off by vertical drops, and abrupt cave entries,
shining crystalline spires, and a flying buttress or two. At

Man from Mundania         57

the very top, perched at what seemed a precarious angle,
was a turreted palace or castle, so far and high it looked
tiny. The whole effect was of fairyland beauty and chal-
lenge.

Beside him. Ivy was silent, gazing as raptly as he at the
mountain. Then she came to life. "I had hoped it wouldn't
be this bold, this soon," she murmured.

Grey walked forward to gain a better view of the fas-
cinating structure. Suddenly he stopped. He had almost
banged into a glass barrier! Then he looked again. "Why-
it's a picture!" he exclaimed. "Just a picture of a fancy
mountain! We can't reach it."

"I don't think that's the case," Ivy said. "This is the
gourd, remember, where dreams are real. We shall have
to enter the picture."

"Enter the—?" But he remembered that there had been
just such a scene in one of the books, so naturally she
believed it. "Okay, you make the scene, and I'll follow."

"Yes." She stepped forward and through the barrier.

Grey gaped. She was standing on the painted path that
led down into the painted valley that contained the painted
mountain. She was inside the picture!

Then he realized that it was an optical illusion. There
was an entry there, or something. He moved over to where
she had stood, then forward, cautiously. He put out a hand.

He touched the surface of the picture. He passed his
fingers along it. The thing was definitely a painting, done
in slight relief; he could feel the edge of the terraces and
of each of the steps on the stone stairways circling the
mountain. No way to walk into that scene!

Yet there was Ivy, part of the picture. She had walked
down the path a way, perhaps assuming that he was right
behind her, and perspective made her look smaller. Was
it really her? He stroked her backside with a finger—and
she jumped.

While Grey stared, the pictured Ivy whirled around, a
mixed expression on her little face. She was alive—yet
painted! He had felt the material of her skirt, the firmness
of her tiny bottom, yet also the flatness of the painting.




58         Man from Mundania

Ivy was saying something, but he could not hear her,
of course. How could a figure in a painting speak?

Then she started making signs. Grey, she signed, using
the signs for white and black, which they had agreed would
be his name: mix white with black and you got gray.

Her name was Green Plant. He made that sign, an-
swering her. Suddenly they had a new use for the language

of the deaf.

Come here she signed.
/ can not he signed back, hardly believing this. How

could she be part of a picture, yet still alive and moving?

She walked back toward him, growing rapidly larger as
the perspective changed. Finally she was his own size,
standing in the foreground of the picture. Take my hand.

Grey put forth his hand. He set it against the painting,
beside her, having learned caution about touching her im-
age directly. She put her hand up to match his.

The texture of the painting changed under his fingers.
It became warm and yielding, like flesh. Then his hand
clasped hers, their fingers interweaving.

She tugged, and he fell forward. He had the impression
of stepping into water, the surface tension crossing his
body. He blinked, and tried to recover his balance.

Then Ivy was holding him, steadying him. "Don't

worry. Grey, you're in," she said.

It was always nice being close to her, but he was too
distracted to enjoy it properly. He disengaged and looked
back. There was the cave: a picture mounted in a huge

frame.

He looked forward. There was the mountain—larger and

sharper than before. The air was cooler here, and smelled
slightly of ocean; a sea breeze ruffed his hair and Ivy's
tresses, making the green flicker.

Green?
He snapped back to look closely at her. Her hair had a

definite green tint! He took a hank between his fingers,

inspecting it. Blond and green.

"My mother's hair is much darker green," Ivy said,
understanding. "Because of her green thumb, you know.
She has green hair and green panties, and she turns other

Man from Mundania          59

women green with envy. But I'm only a shadow of her, so
I'm less green."

"Green panties?" Grey echoed.

Ivy's hand went to her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't have
told! No man outside the family is supposed to know the
color of her panties! Promise you won't tell!"

"I, uh, won't tell," Grey agreed numbly. He had better
concerns than anyone's panties, at the moment! How could
he be within the picture, and the place he had come from
converted to a picture?

He put out a hand to touch the painting behind. He felt
the rough texture of the painted stone of the cave wall.

"I guess you believe in magic, now," Ivy said, a trifle
smugly.

Grey snapped out of it. "Magic? Of course not!" Ob-
viously this was a sophisticated illusion, with some sort
of curtain or force-screen that gave the impression of paint,
whichever side of it was touched. His mind interpreted
that texture as whatever he saw beyond it. The only mys-
tery was how Ivy had gotten through that screen and how
she had brought him through. Her hair color would be a
function of special lighting. He had seen more dramatic
effects in magic shows.

"Oh. Well, let's get on with the challenge."

"Challenge?"

"You know, the Night Stallion has challenges set along
all the routes in the gourd to keep strangers out. I had to
swim through a lake of castor oil once to get through.
Ugh!"

"Ugh!" he agreed, and she flashed him a sweet smile.
That made it all worthwhile.

They walked on down the path toward the mountain.
The mist thinned as they approached, and he saw that the
mountain rose abruptly out of a plain so flat as to resemble
the surface of a table. It was fashioned of gray stone and
was bare: no trees or grass at all. It loomed increasingly
impressively, being much larger than he had judged from
the cave.

"Uh, we have to climb this?" he asked.

"Of course. That's the nature of the challenge, I'm sure:




60         Man from Mundania

to reach the castle at the top. It looks just like Castle
Roogna, but of course it isn't because Castle Roogna's in
the jungle, not atop a bare mountain, and anyway, this is
the gourd. Probably there's a window from the castle to
Xanth proper. But it won't be easy reaching the castle."

Grey looked at the sheer din's of stone, and tilted his
head back to see the tiny castle far above. He swallowed.
He wasn't acrophobic, but unprotected heights made him
nervous. There were no guardrails on those narrow ledges!
"Uh, what's the name of this, uh, challenge? Mount

Xanth?"

But Ivy was walking boldly onward. He had to follow

or let her risk it alone. The name of the mountain hardly
mattered; they just had to climb it. He hurried to catch
up. Maybe the climb would not be as bad as it looked!

They came to the base. It rose steeply from the ground
with no apology, the stone too sheer to scale without spe-
cial equipment. The lowest ledge was out of reach.

"Yes, it's a challenge, all right," Ivy said. "But maybe

a passive one."

"Passive?" Grey asked, feeling stupid again.

"Rather than an active one."

"What's the difference?"
"With a passive challenge," she explained patiently,

"you don't get chased by monsters."

Oh. "Let's keep it passive," he agreed.

They walked around the base. The circumference of the
mountain did not seem great; in fact, far smaller than it
should be to accommodate such a large castle at the di-
minishing top. Unless the castle was as small as perspec-
tive made it seem. It would be a real irony if they got to
the top and discovered a dollhouse castle there!

They came to a small bush growing right against the
base. "Maybe that plant conceals an entry," Grey said.
Indeed, the rock seemed less solid behind it. "Smells like

some kind of mint."

"Be careful," Ivy said. "It might be a—"
A sharp stick poked out from the plant as Grey leaned

over it. He jumped back just in time to avoid getting

stabbed.

Man from Mundania         61

"Spearmint," Ivy finished.

Grey glanced at her, but she seemed serious. He picked
up a pebble and flipped it at the plant. Another spear
popped up and stabbed at the pebble with dismaying ac-
curacy. "Spearmint," he agreed.

"They are dangerous to approach," Ivy explained un-
necessarily. "They attract birds and things with their
smell, and then they—"

"I get the picture." Spring-loaded spears nestled in an
ordinary plant: a trap fit for a jungle fighter. And a pun
fit for a crazy story writer. He would have laughed, had
he found it funny.

They continued on around the mountain. Soon there
was another plant, and this one definitely masked a flight
of steps that led to the first ledge. The mint smell was
strong again.

Grey made a cautious approach and inspected the plant.
He saw no spears. Still, he did not trust it. He found
another pebble and flipped it into the bush.

There was an explosion of dust. It surrounded him in a
cloud. Grey inhaled—and started sneezing.

He scrambled back and away, sneezing violently.
'' Tha—ah—that 's— ah— pep—chew!'' he  exclaimed
through his sneezing.

"A peppermint," Ivy agreed. "I should have known."

Grey sneezed himself out and found himself sitting on
the ground, panting, his eyes watering, his nose itching to
trigger more of the same. "Pep-peppermint," he wheezed
in deep disgust. A mint that peppered the intruder with
ground pepper.

After a moment they went on, as it didn't seem worth-
while to risk the sneezing they would do if they plowed
through the guardian plant to get to the steps behind it.
They might sneeze themselves right off the ledge!

They came to a third plant. Once again the smell of
mint was strong. Grey flipped a pebble at it, and the mint
responded with an aroma like minty incense.

"That's all?" he asked, not trusting it. "Incense?"

"It must be a frankinmint plant," Ivy said. "They just
make a nice smell for special occasions."




Man from Mundania         63

62         Mem from Mundonia

"Not frankincense?" he inquired, suspecting another

pun.

"No, those make a smell that gets people frankly an-
gry."

Grey let that pass. He had, after all, asked for it.

There was a cave entry behind the plant. They decided
to try it. If it didn't lead quickly up to the ledge, they

would retreat and search for another.

Inside was a circular staircase that corkscrewed right up
to the ledge. No challenge at all! They emerged from an
arch that turned out to be immediately below a ledgelet

between major ledges.

Ivy looked up at the ledgelet. "Grandpa Trent!" she

exclaimed.

Grey looked, but saw nothing. It was an empty place,

with a kind of canopy over it. "I see no man," he said

shortly.

She glanced at him, startled. "You don't see King

Emeritus Trent?"

"Right. I don't see him."
She faced the ledge. "He doesn't see you. Grandpa!"

She paused. Then she said "Oh."
"Why don't we go up there, and I'll prove there's noth-
ing there," Grey suggested.

"No need," she said sadly. "He says he isn't really

there. It's just an illusion to go with the Enchanted Moun-
tain. There are a number of them, but they will vacate the
Enchanted Mountain now so as not to interfere with us."
Was she coming to her senses? "So we can ignore it,"
he said. "Let's get on up to the top and be done with

this."

"Yes," she said, a little tightly.

But they still had to decide which way. To their left as
they faced the mountain was a flight of steps leading to
somewhere out of sight. To their right the ledge continued
more or less level, around and also out of sight. They
decided to start with the level approach, on the theory that
it should be easier to explore quickly. If it went nowhere,
they would return and try the more promising steps.

The ledge led to a narrow bridge over a big cave en-


trance. The stone of the bridge was cracked; the narrow-
ness was evidently because the rest had crumbled and
fallen. Grey did not like this. "Suppose it collapses under
our weight?"

She shrugged. "We'll fall. But we can't actually be hurt.
The gourd doesn't hurt people physically, it just frightens
them. Besides, when I set out to use the Heaven Cent they
checked the auspices, and said I would return unharmed.
So if we fall, we just pick ourselves up and try again."

Grey was not at all reassured. He had no confidence in
magical reassurances or in the beneficence of the gourd.
But he knew that his objections would not sway Ivy, whose
belief defied logic. Still, he made an effort to get through
to her.

' 'Ivy, maybe you will get home okay, but I have no such
guarantee, because your magic experts didn't know I was
coming. And maybe the gourd won't hurt you, because
you're a Princess of Xanth, but I am no such thing, and it
won't care about me. So I'm worried about that bridge."

She considered briefly. "Yes, it is true; Mundanes can
have trouble in Xanth. I will have to use my magic to
protect you."

"Your magic?" He didn't like the sound of this much
better.

"Well, not exactly my magic. I mean, use the magic
that protects me to protect you too. That way you'll be as
safe as I am.''

Grey still was not much reassured. He was afraid Ivy
would do something foolish and get them both hurt. This
might be a fancy amusement park setting, but people could
get hurt in them if they were careless. He had pointed out
to her how he might get hurt, even within the framework
of her belief, but it was she he was really worried about.
She believed so firmly in her own safety that she could
take foolish risks. But how was he going to persuade her
otherwise?

"Take my hand," she said. "We'll cross the bridge
together. If you fall, I fall too. So we'll both be safe."

Grey sighed. He would just have to take the risk and
try to shield her body with his own if they did fall.




64         Man from Mundania

He took her hand, and they started across the partial
bridge. It was just an arc of stone, seeming all too fragile,
with the dark maw of the cave below. It was so narrow
that they had to turn and put their backs to the wall and

sidestep across. Ivy leading.

"Oh!" Ivy exclaimed, falling backwards.
Backwards? he thought as he wrenched her toward him.

Her back was to the wall!

Then she was in his arms, and he saw that the cave
below extended up in a narrow window behind them; the
security of the wall was no security at all. She had almost

fallen into the cave.
But it had one good effect. Ivy decided that she didn't

like the idea of falling, even if her safety was guaranteed.
"We'll have to be more careful," she said. Grey said
nothing, happy to leave her with that attitude.

They tried again, this time keeping both sides of the
bridge in mind. Ivy faced outward, and Grey inward, so
each could see the hazards of one side and warn the other.
They sidled across. The stone settled slightly, and ground
out some sand, but did not collapse. Then they were

across.

But if this was the lowest hazard, when the ground was

really not too far away, what of the higher reaches, when
any fall would certainly be fatal? Grey liked this whole

business less as he got into it.

There were steps beyond the bridge, wide and solid.
They linked arms and marched up them side by side.

The ledge continued, hugging the irregular curve of the
mountain, sometimes slanting up, sometimes down,
sometimes having steps, sometimes a ramp. They made
good progress. Soon they looked down and discovered they
had made a complete circuit. They were above the place
where they had first gotten onto the ledge.

But they were still near the base of the mountain, with
more laps of the spiral above. The day was passing, and
neither of them wanted to be caught out on the ledge by
night. So they hurried as fast as they safely could.

But it was cold in the upper reaches, and the wind was

Man from Mundania         65

rising. Bits of the nether fog were breaking off and rising,
drifting ominously close to the mountain.

"Rats!" Ivy swore. "I see Practo!"

"What?"

"Cumulo Fracto Nimbus, the worst of clouds! He is
always up to mischief! I don't know how he gets into the
gourd, but he's here. He messed Dolph up too, when he
was here."

"An evil cloud?" But now he remembered: there had
been something about a nasty little cloud in the novels.
He found the notion of a bad cloud quaint. Still, this was
definitely the wrong time for a storm, and one did seem
to be brewing. Rain would make these sloping narrow
ledges treacherous indeed!

"Fracto's an ill wind, all right!" she said angrily. "He's
sure to try to blow us off the mountain!"

"Maybe we can find a niche for shelter."

"Yes, we'd better." She led the way on up—and there,
almost immediately, was another large opening in the wall.
It was a deep cave, extending far back into the mountain,
curving out of sight. It would do nicely for shelter. If the
storm got too bad, they could simply retreat further into
the cave, and remain dry.

The storm blew up horrendously. Grey had to admit, it
did at times vaguely resemble a demonic face. But it was
definitely a cloud, and clouds did swirl and rain; there was
nothing magical in that.

The rain slanted into the cave. They moved back. Water
coursed along the floor, trying to wet them. They found a
rise and perched on that, safe from wetting. It got cold,
as the cloud blew frigid upper air down into the cave. Grey
opened his jacket, folded it around Ivy, and hugged her
close for mutual warmth. Her greenish hair spread out like
a scarf, helping insulate them. It was quite nice.

It was truly said: it was an ill wind that blew nobody
good. Delightfully embraced, they fell asleep, waiting out
the storm.

By morning the storm had blown over, and sunlight
streamed down, brightening the mountain. They were







66 Man from MunckMia Man from Mundania 67

hungry, but all they had to eat was one bean sandwich left
over from their traveling. Ivy had expected to pluck pies
from trees, of course, so hadn't been concerned. Grey,
more sensible, had hung on to the sandwich, and now it
paid off. They split it, and though it was squashed and
messy, it was also delicious. Hunger was a marvelous tonic
for the appetite!

They had occasion for the use of a bathroom, but there
was none here. Why was it. Grey wondered, that in stories
a man and woman could travel together for weeks in alien
realms and never had such a need?

"Uh, maybe there's a deep crack farther back in the
cave," he suggested. "Very deep, so . . ."

Ivy nodded. "We'll find it."

They moved cautiously back into the cave. The light of
day faded rapidly around the turn, slowing them further.
Then the passage divided. Grey checked one branch, and
Ivy the other, keeping in touch by calling.

His foot found a crevice. He explored it with his toe. It
was about six inches across, and too deep to fathom. "Ivy!
I found it!" he called.

"So did I!" she called back.

"Maybe it's the same crack!"

"You use yours and I'll use mine," she suggested.

Good idea. This was like separate bathrooms. It was a
bit awkward in the dark, but he managed.

There was a roar from deep below, as of a monster who
had just had a bad experience. Grey leaped away from the
crevice. Then he headed back toward the front of the cave,
eager to return to daylight. He knew it was just a recording
intended to scare him, but it was coming too close to suc-
ceeding.

He almost collided with Ivy as the branches merged.
"Maybe that wasn't the best place after all," she said.

Grey didn't argue. They hurried on out and into the
blinding daylight, letting the echoing roars fade behind.
There was no sign of the storm; Fracto had blown himself
out.

Steps resumed. They moved on up and around, circling

the narrowing mountain a second time. But just as they
completed the loop, the path ended.

They stopped, dismayed. The path did not exactly end;

it turned inward and angled up the mountain so steeply as
to become a cliff, until it disappeared into a circular open-
ing. There was no way they could climb that slope! But
they could not go straight ahead; it was a sheer drop to
the next ledge below.

"But we were never on that ledge!" Grey protested.
"How can we be above it when we never walked on it?"

"There must be more than one spiral up the moun-
tain," Ivy said.

"But it looks like one! I mean—"

"Things are seldom exactly what they look like, in
Xanth, and less so in the gourd," she said. "The entrance
to that spiral could be masked in illusion, or the mountain
could change its configuration each day. We may be on
the same spiral we started on."

She was talking magic again. Grey let it pass. "We
need to find a way down to that ledge. See, it goes on up
and around the mountain; it must be the right one."

"Well, we could hold hands and jump down."

"No!" he cried, fearing that she was serious. "I mean,
let's not tempt fate, or whatever. It will be easier to walk
back down than it was to climb up here."

"Besides which, it might be cheating to jump," she
said. "Challenges have to be met the right way, or they're
no good. We'll never get to the top if we do it wrong."

Grey was happy to agree. They reversed course and
walked back the way they had come.

Actually, it wasn't much easier going down than it had
been going up; their knees weren't toughened to it. They
trudged on as quickly as possible, not wanting to have to
spend another night on the slope. For one thing, the fa-
cilities at the castle at the top were surely better than those
of the cave, and without nether monsters.

They came back to that cave, and now the ledge they
wanted was above them. But if it was part of a double
spiral, where was the lower loop of it? Grey saw no change
in yesterday's mountainscape.




68

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

69

Then he looked beyond the mountain. "Uh-oh!"
Ivy looked at him. "What?"
"Look away from the mountain! What do you see?"
She looked. "Why, it's changed!" she said, surprised.
Indeed, the approach path from the original cave (now
a picture) was gone. They were in a broad green plain,
with thick grass and luxuriant trees. There were mountains
in the distance—conventional ones, that had not been there

before.

"This mountain is the same," he said. "But everything

else is different!"

"I told you things could be strange in the gourd," she

reminded him.

Grey strove to find a nonmagical explanation for this
phenomenon. "Maybe the rain last night made the dor-
mant vegetation of the plain grow.''

"And the different mountains?" Ivy inquired snidely.

"I'm still working on them."

They resumed their trek. Just beyond the cave they
turned a comer, and spied what they had missed the day
before because of the distraction of the storm: a flight of
steps rising to the higher ledge! The configuration of the
mountain hadn't changed; they just hadn't been paying at-
tention. That was a relief to Grey.

But the middle of this stairway was broken. Evidently a
boulder or something had fallen here, and smashed out a

section.

They had no choice: they had to scramble over the de-
bris. Grey led the way, proceeding very carefully, finding
secure handholds and footholds. The very jaggedness of
it helped, because sharp edges were easier to grasp than
smooth planes. He had to work his way up an almost ver-
tical section, but got hold of the undamaged step above
and managed to haul himself up. Then he lay on the step
and reached down to help haul Ivy up. She was fairly
athletic, which was a quality he liked, and made it up
without too much trouble.

Then they dusted themselves off and moved up the re-
maining steps to the upper ledge.

Now the mystery unraveled. This ledge actually began

here! It dead-ended below, and proceeded on up. It was
as if it were the continuation of the ledge they had been
on before, but had gotten sheered away and set lower.
Perhaps this had happened long ago, and later someone
had built the stairway to reach it, and still later the boulder
had smashed the stairs. Grey wondered just how old this
mountain was!

They walked up the new ledge, coming to the point
above the cave they had spent the night in. Here there was
a right angle in the ledge and in the rock below, almost
like the prow of a ship.

Grey stopped abruptly. He gazed out across the plain
again. Sure enough—it had changed some more. The grass
and trees were different, and the distant mountains had
come closer.

"This thing's a ship!" he exclaimed. "It's sailing
through the valley!"

Ivy considered. "Yes, I suppose it is. I told you things
are strange in the gourd."

That set him back. He was arguing the case for magic!
There had to be some other explanation. Maybe the mists
of the prior day had concealed most of the surrounding
scenery, and it appeared to change as those mists cleared.

"Let's get on up to the top," he said gruffly.

They resumed their walk. Grey's legs were tired, and
he knew Ivy felt the same. But the realization that they
were back on track buoyed them both, and they made good
progress.

Then the ledge became another bridge. This time it was
no partial thing; it was a far-ranging span that narrowed
alarmingly at the apex. Grey looked at it and quailed.

"Now all we need is a st—" Ivy began with disgust.

"Don't say it! It might come! The last thing we want is
a—a you-know-what!" He refused to say the word
"storm."

She smiled, a trifle grimly. "I think your unbelief is
wavering, Grey! You are right; it is not smart to speak the
names of those you don't want to hear. But even without
that, how are we going to cross? I don't feel that steady
on my feet."




70         Man from Mundania

She spoke for them both! "It gets so narrow—maybe
we can sit astride it there, and sort of hump across."

"Hump across?"

"I've done it on schoolyard mounted logs," he ex-
plained. "You sort of put your hands down and lift your
body and bump forward. You can move along pretty well
when you get the hang of it. If you lose your balance, you
just lock your legs around the log. You can't fall, really,
if you keep your head." He sat down and demonstrated,
awkwardly, on the flat surface.

"How clever!" Ivy exclaimed, delighted. "Let's go!"
Grey led the way again. This wasn't because he was
brave, but because he just couldn't see making Ivy take a
risk he wouldn't take himself. He pretended it was routine,
but the truth was he was tight with fear. His hands were
sweating, and his jaw was clenched; he hoped it didn't show.

He walked as far as he dared, because that was the most
efficient way to travel. Then he got down on hands and
knees. When the arch became too narrow for that, he put
his legs down and straddled the stone. He put his hands
behind and heaved, humping his body forward.

It worked. He kept doing it until the bridge peaked,
descended, and widened. He tried not to look down, be-
cause that made him unpleasantly dizzy; there was nothing
down there except cruel stone, far below.

When the stone became too wide he leaned forward
until he lay on it, then lifted his legs, got to hands and
knees, and moved on. It wasn't fan on the downslope, but

it was a relief to be there.

At last he reached the solid mountain again, and turned.
There was Ivy, not far behind him. She was not as nervous
about falling as he, because of her belief in magic, but he

remained nervous about her.

"That was fan," she exclaimed as she caught up to
him. But some of the green of her hair seemed to be on
her face, and he knew she had felt almost as queasy as he.
This climb was certainly a challenge!

They walked on up the path. The mountain was com-
paratively slender here, but high, and the ledge was
smaller. They had to go single file. This time Ivy took the

Arlan front ArHJndanja           71

lead, because he wanted to be in position to catch her if
she slipped and started to fall. The path was increasingly
steep, without steps, and still lacked any kind of guardrail;

he would have been happier crawling up it, but that would
have been too slow. Night was closing in.

Then out of the gloomy sky came figures in the air.
"Oopsy!" Ivy said, spying them. "Wyvems! Probably
they forage here, picking off helpless climbers."

"Such as us?" Grey asked, trying to suppress dread.
He knew what wyverns were: small winged, fire-breathing
dragons. Of course he didn't believe in them—but cer-
tainly there was something ugly in the air, and that was
apt to be just as bad for them as a fantasy creature.

"Yes. But don't worry; I'll use my talent to foil them."

"But your talent's Enhancement! Won't that just make
them even more formidable?" Again, he was trying to
make her see reason without actually expressing his dis-
belief in her magic. At some point they would have to
have this out—but not way up here on this treacherously
exposed path!

"Not necessarily. I'll show you."

The flying figures loomed close—and they did indeed
look like dragons. But of course such things could be
mocked up and even be made to fly. This was obviously
a most intricately fashioned setting, so such threats were
feasible. Certainly those creatures, whatever their true na-
ture, could be dangerous. He didn't see how enhancing
them could help foil them, assuming it could be done at
all.

Ivy stood facing the dragons. She seemed to be concen-
trating. The dragons approached even faster than before,
their beady eyes glinting, plumes of smoke trailing from
their nostrils.

The lead dragon oriented and accelerated, flying di-
rectly toward them. It jetted a column of fire. Grey started
to scramble away, not wanting to get fried—but Ivy didn't
move, and he couldn't leave her behind. So he forced him-
self to wait, hoping that she did know what she was doing.

The jet of fire missed. Then the dragon, looking sur-
prised, missed also; it shot right past them, so close that




72

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

73

they were buffeted by the hot breeze of its passing. What

had happened?
The second dragon winged in toward them. It too missed

with both fire and teeth, seeming as amazed as Grey was
by this. Then the third one.

"What happened?" Grey asked.

"I told you. I Enhanced them."

"But—"

"I made them faster. So they flew faster than usual, and
whipped their heads around faster, and fired faster. So
their aim was off. They can't score on us until they get
adjusted to their new powers—and they won't have them
when they're not attacking us."

Grey worked it out. He had driven a car once that was
larger and more powerful than he was used to. Then he
had come to a turn in the road, and almost careened off
the road because his reflexes were wrong. He had made
hasty adjustments, knowing that he could quickly wreck
himself if he didn't. It could have been the same for the
dragons. It would require precise timing and coordination
of vectors to score with fire while on the wing, and if that
timing was off, there would be no score. So what Ivy said

made sense.

Assuming that she could really do what she claimed.

But that was magic.

"Let's get on before they recover," Ivy said.
Good suggestion! They walked up the path while the
dragons reoriented. When the dragons made their second
strafing runs, they misjudged the range again and gave up
in disgust. "See? I don't like to use my talent frivolously,
but for self-defense it's all right," Ivy said.

Grey was just glad that the creatures had been pro-
grammed to miss! The threat had seemed real enough, and
he could hardly wait to get off this mountain! He would
try to reason with Ivy about the matter of the dragons at

another time.

The path looped around the mountain again, but the
diameter of the mountain was now so small that the circuit
did not take much time. They walked up the last stretch

to the castle itself, crossing one final bridge. The castle
was, after all, full size, no longer looking like a dollhouse.

They paused at the great wooden door, and looked back.
From this height they could see far across the landscape. It
was definitely a riverscape; they were sailing (without sails)
upriver toward distant lofty peaks that reflected red in the
late sunlight.

Grey shook his head. He did not believe in magic, of
course, but certainly this was a marvelous setting! Prob-
ably only this mountain was genuine; the rest would be
formed from some kind of projection on a surrounding
screen. As amusement parks went, this was the best he
had encountered! It was too bad that it was too persuasive
for some. Ivy would be a terrific girl if she only could rid
herself of her belief in Xanth!

Ivy turned to him. "You've been great. Grey," she said,
and quickly kissed him.

How he wished he could believe in Xanth!




Man from Mundania         75

Chapter S. River

•hey had finally reached the door to the castle.
Ivy was much relieved; she had been afraid that Grey
would panic and fall when the wyvems attacked. She had
even hesitated to explain in too much detail how she could
nullify them, because she did not want him to have to
come to terms with the concept of magic while they were
dangerously exposed. Suppose he spooked and fell off the
ledge? It was better to wait until things were more secure.

So now she merely kissed him and told him that he had
been great. Indeed, he had been, considering that he did
not believe in magic; it must have taken real courage to
carry on in the face of that doubt! He should be a great
guy, once he got over his confusion and saw Xanth for

what it was.

She addressed the door: "Hey, door, don't you know

me?"
The door didn't answer. Oops—she had forgotten that

her father. King Dor, wasn't here. It was his talent to
speak to the inanimate and to have it answer in the human
language. He had resided so long in Castle Roogna that
his magic had infused those parts of the castle that he used
a lot. Thus she always talked to the castle door, and it
normally opened for her because it recognized her. But
this wasn't really Castle Roogna; this was an imitation

one, a setting in the realm of bad dreams. So her father
wasn't here, and his magic had not rubbed off.

"Uh, doors don't know people," Grey said delicately.
"You have to turn the knob."

Ivy was getting tired of his patronizing attitude about
magic. So she decided to make a small demonstration. She
concentrated on the door, enhancing its affinity to her fa-
ther. It was an emulation of the real front door of Castle
Roogna, so there was a basis for this; if she made it even
more like the real door, it would be able to respond in the
manner of the original.

Then she spoke to it again. "Door, if you don't open
this instant, I'll kick your shin panel!"

The door hastily swung open.

It was very satisfying to see Grey's gape.

Then he recovered. "Oh—it wasn't locked. Must have
been blown open."

"By what wind?" Ivy inquired sweetly. The air was
now quite still.

But Grey merely shrugged. The door might not be
locked, but his mind was. It was most annoying.

They stepped in. The entrance hall was empty, of
course. Ivy had seen many people and creatures she knew,
scattered around the Enchanted Mountain, but rather than
confuse things she had asked them to fade out. Since they
were all ghosts, they had obliged. That way she had seen
nothing that Grey hadn't seen, which made the climb eas-
ier. The same was true here in the castle, and it seemed
better to leave it that way.

"It's empty!" Grey said, as if surprised.

"It isn't the real castle," she reminded him. "This is
the dream realm, with settings for all the bad dreams. So
there aren't any folk here except when they come to make
up a dream concerning Castle Roogna, and then they aren't
real folk, just the gourd actors."

He looked at her as if about to Say Something for Her
Own Good, but managed to stifle it. "So where do we go
from here?"

"Wherever this sailing mountain takes us," she replied.
"We should keep watch, and when it passes some region




76         Man from Mundania

I recognize, we can get off and I'll lead us home to the

real Castle Roogna."

Again that Own Good expression crossed his face, but
again it was displaced by Not Yet. "But if this is the—the
realm of dreams, you won't be able to reach the real, uh,

Xanth from here."

"Yes I will—when I see a section of the gourd I rec-
ognize. I've been through it before, you know. So if I see
the sea of castor oil—" But she did not care to complete
that thought; the notion of diving into that awful stuff made

her sick.

"A sea of castor oil?" he asked blankly.
"Well, maybe it's just a lake of it. You know—the oil
that leaks from castors, those little wheels that move fur-
niture around. They feed it to children to make them feel

bad."

"I remember," he said, making a face. "We get some-
thing similar from beans. That's the stuff of bad dreams,

all right!"

' 'Wouldn't you know it—in Mundania it's the bad things

that grow on trees!" she exclaimed.

"On plants, anyway," he agreed wryly. "We have many
horrendous plants: nuclear, munitions, sewage—"

"So if I see that lake, I'll know where we are, and then
I can go the same route I used as a child to return directly
to Castle Roogna. There's a candy garden, and a bug house
and other awful stuff."

"A candy garden is awful?"

"Because of the temptation. If you take even one lick
of a lollypop, you're stuck in the dream realm forever, or
worse. I think. I'm not quite sure, but I don't care to
gamble. So we'll just have to stick to our own food until

we get out of here."

"We finished our last bean sandwich," he reminded
her. "Actually, if it had gotten any more battered and old,
it would have tasted like castor oil beans!"

She grimaced. "Well, let's get a good night's sleep,
then hope that we can move on in the morning before we
get too hungry."

Man from Mundania         77

He smiled. "We may be hungry, but there's not much
temptation if there's no food."

Ivy was getting increasingly annoyed by his superior
attitude. "You want temptation? I'll show you tempta-
tion!"

She led the way to the kitchen and flung open the door.
There was a fine array of cakes and pastries laid out with
glasses of delicious drink on the side. The heavenly smell
was almost overwhelming.

"There is food here!" Grey exclaimed, amazed. He
stepped in, admiring it. "But strange, too. What's this?"

"That's a patti cake," she explained. "I won't eat them
unless I'm sitting down."

"Why?"

"Because," she explained patiently, "when you take a
bite from such a cake, you get patted."

He paused, then resolutely continued his questioning.
"What's so bad about that?"

"These are fresh cakes, so they give pretty fresh pats.
So you have to protect any part of your body you don't
want patted. It's worse with hot cross buns."

He pondered that, then smiled, then saw her frown and
changed the subject. "What's this fizzing drink?"

"Boot rear. You had really better sit down for that."

Grey looked pained, and she realized that he had just
bitten his tongue so as to stifle a laugh. He was using
Mundane magic: pain to stop mirth.

"How about this one?" he asked, indicating a glass of
brown fluid.

"Mocolatechilk."

"From mocolate choo-cows, no doubt."

"Exactly."

He sighed. "You're right. This is too tempting. I want
to gobble it down despite your ludicrous puns."

"If you think it's ludicrous," she flared, "why don't
you eat some, then?"

"Maybe I will!" he retorted. He picked up the glass of
chilk and brought it to his mouth.

"No, don't!" she cried, flinging herself at him. She
pushed the glass away before he could drink from it.




Man from Mundania         79

78         Man from Mundania

"Uh, okay," he said, disconcerted. "If you really feel

that way."

"When are you going to get it through your Mundane

head that this isn't Mundania?" she demanded. "Magic
really does work here, and you can get into horrible trou-
ble if you aren't careful!"

"I'm sorry," he said contritely, with his This-is-Not-

the-Time-to-Disabuse-Her look. "Are there any other

things to watch out for?"

"No, this should be safe as long as the setting isn't in

use. But maybe we'd better check."

"Of course." He followed her out of the kitchen.

She led him through the castle. Everything seemed to
be in order. It was dark and gloomy with the onset of
night, as was appropriate for a bad dream setting. She was
about to take him to one of the guest rooms where he
could sleep—she would use her own room, of course—
when she spied something odd.

"This isn't right," she said.

"It looks like just another door," Grey said. "What's

wrong with it?"

"There isn't any such door in the real Castle Roogna."
"Oh, so it's not a perfect replica. Maybe it's a secret

entrance for the spooks when they come to set up a bad

dream."

"Yes, that's probably it," she agreed. "So we'd better

stay away from it. There's no telling what's beyond it."

"What's the harm in looking?"
"The same as in eating the food here. We could be

trapped in the setting."

He shrugged. "We seem to be trapped now, unless we

want to go back down the mountain and out the picture

cave and back into the real world."

"Mundania isn't the real world!" she protested.
"Let's just say it is my real world, and Xanth is yours."
So he still refused to believe. She hoped she would be

able to convince him before he got into real trouble.
She showed him the guest room. "You sleep here," she

told him shortly. "I'll be just down the hall, in my room.

Don't do anything foolish."

"Foolish?"

"Like sneaking down to the kitchen in the night. It's
better to go hungry until we get where we're going."

"Okay, no sneaking down to the kitchen," he agreed.
"But is it all right if I dream a little?"

"Dream?"

"About you, maybe."

She paused. "Are you trying to pay me a compli-
ment?"

He looked abashed. "Uh, I guess so."

"You think I'm crazy to believe in magic, but you still
want to dream about me?"

"Look, I'm not being sarcastic!" he exclaimed. "I'm
just not very good at impressing anyone I really like."

Ivy felt two and a half emotions warring in her. ' 'How
would you like me if you learned I really was a princess
of a magical realm?"

"I don't care what you are in what kind of realm! I just
think you're a great girl. I wish—I don't know what I
wish."

There it was again. He liked her only for herself, be-
cause he didn't believe any of the rest of it was true. What
she had told him of her background was actually a liability
by his perception, because he thought it meant she was
making it up. She remained annoyed by his refusal to be-
lieve what she told him, yet nattered by his evident sin-
cerity about the rest of it. She was seeing him in his worst
light, she knew, because of his confusion—but she did like
what she saw. Grey really was a decent person.

Well, when they got into Xanth proper, she would show
him magic he could not deny, and then he would believe.
When she saw how well he adapted to that, she would
know how well she could afford to like him.

For there was one enormous barrier to any serious re-
lationship between them: Grey was Mundane. That meant
that he had no magic. When she had been trapped in Mun-
dania, he had been a great comfort, and she had needed
him to get back to Xanth. But now that they were on the
verge of Xanth, the complexion of the matter was chang-
ing. She could bring him there and show him Xanth's won-




80         Man from Mundania

ders, but she well knew that any serious relationship was
proscribed. The old rule that exiled anyone who lacked a
magic talent had been thrown out by Grandpa Trent, so
Grey could remain in Xanth, and indeed would probably
have to because there might be no certain way back to his
place in Mundania. But for a Princess and Sorceress to
associate too closely with a no-talent man: no way.

That was one reason she had delayed using the magic
mirror. She had been busy, of course, just climbing the
mountain and getting Grey through. But she could have
paused long enough to bring out the mirror and contact
her folks. Indeed, they well might be watching her on the
Tapestry. No, the Tapestry didn't reach into the dream
realm, she remembered now. That increased her guilt. So
she knew she would have to get through before too long,
because Queen Irene would not brook too much foolish-
ness on the way.

But if she had brought out the mirror on the mountain,
and Grey had seen it operate and realized that its magic
really did work, his whole philosophy might have been so
severely shaken that he might have done something fool-
ish. So she had waited until she could be alone.

Now she was alone. She brought out the mirror.

"Mother," she murmured.

Queen Irene's face appeared in the mirror. "Well, it's
about time, Ivy!" she said severely. "Have you any idea
how we worried when you dropped off the Tapestry? Why

didn't you call in before?"

Ivy smiled, seeing right through Irene's severity. "I was
in Mundania, as you surely realized. Mother. I couldn't
call; the mirror was dead there. But I came back as soon

as I could."

"And where are you calling from? That can't be your

own room behind you!"

"We're in the gourd. Mother. In a mock Castle Roogna.
It took us two days to climb the Enchanted Mountain, and

only now could I—"

"We? Who are you with, Ivy?"

Ivy could see that her mother was not in an understand-
ing mood. "A Mundane. He—"

Man from Mundania         81

"You spent two days and one night on that infernal
mountain with a Mundane!" Irene snapped. "Have you
any idea—!"

"I needed his help to get to the gourd access," Ivy
explained. "Then he wanted to see Xanth, so I'm showing
him. There really wasn't much other way I could repay
him for his help."

Irene glanced closely at her. "Obviously not. Does he
realize that he'll be a misfit in Xanth, and that there's little
chance he will be able to return to his prior situation?"

"I tried to tell him, but he doesn't believe in magic."

"Doesn't believe in—!" Incredulity and outrage rippled
across Irene's expressive face.

"Mundanes are like that," Ivy reminded her. "It's been
a bit awkward here in the gourd, so I haven't pushed it.
I'd like to get into Xanth proper first."

Irene sighed, somewhat grimly. "You should never have
brought him this far. It's like pulling a live fish from water
and not throwing it back. He's apt to be miserable."

"I know," Ivy said sadly.

"We shall arrange with the Night Stallion to move you
out in the morning," Irene said. "Bring the Mundane out
on the north turret then; we can't leave him in the gourd."

"I'll bring him," Ivy agreed. She felt so guilty, know-
ing how awkward it would be for Grey, stuck in a land
where practically every person except himself could do
magic. But it would have been worse leaving him in drear
Mundania! From his description. Freshman English was
just about as bad as the lake of castor oil. She really hadn't
had a good choice to make, so she had gone with the lesser
of evils—she hoped.

"Good night, dear," Irene said with motherly resig-
nation.

"Good night. Mother," Ivy replied with daughterly
guilt.

The mirror became blank, then showed her own face.
It was somewhat drawn. Embarrassed by her unwanted
maturity, she forced a sunny smile, making herself look
younger.

Then she put the mirror away, and got herself ready for




82

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundoma

83

the night. It took her some time to sleep, despite the seem-
ing familiarity of her room.

She woke hungry as the morning sunlight beamed into
her room. Her room was on the west side of the castle,
but it didn't matter; this was the gourd, and it followed its
own rules. Probably the ship/mountain had made a turn
in the landscape/river, turning the castle around. She got
up, washed, and concentrated on her dress, enhancing it
into a fresher and cleaner state. It was Mundane clothing,
but here it was subject to her magic.

She stepped out and walked down the hall to Grey's
room. His door was closed, so she knocked. There was

no answer.

She did not want to be late for the connection on the
turret, so she knocked again, harder. "Grey! Grey! Are
you up?" Still there was no response.

Worried, she opened the door. The room was empty.
Grey was not a heavy sleeper, so he might have gotten up
earlier and gone elsewhere in the castle. Not down to the
kitchen, because he had promised not to, but—

"Oh, no!" she breathed. She hurried out and down the
hall to the extra door. She had forgotten to make him
promise not to go there, and if his curiosity had caused
him to open it, they could be in real trouble.

The door was closed. Had he opened it and gone

through, or had he left it alone?

She checked the rest of the castle, just to make sure.
He was nowhere. So he must have used that extra door.

"Damn!" she said, using a villainous Mundane curse.

There was no help for it. She would have to go after
him, and right away. She only hoped he hadn't gotten him-
self into more trouble than she could get him out of.

She packed her knapsack and put her hand to the knob.
The door opened immediately.

As she expected, there was no sharp mountain drop
beyond. There was a lovely green landscape; a rocky
slope, with bushes growing in clumps and trees in the
distance. A faint path led from the door over the nearest
ridge.

She stepped forward, so as to see beyond the portal that
hid much of the view. Now she could see a wider section.

And there, sitting on a rock, was Grey. "Grey!" she
called.

He looked up. "Ivy! Don't close the—"

Too late. The door slammed shut behind her—and sud-
denly it and the portal vanished, leaving her standing on
the path. That path went on down the slope beyond the
region where the door had been, and to a section of forest.

It was of course a magical portal, similar to the pictures
into which they had stepped. Only those who had the right
magic could use that door from this side. She had fallen
into the trap exactly as Grey had.

Grey ran up to join her. "I was only going to look!"
he exclaimed. "But I couldn't see much from the door, so
I just took one step, and—"

"I know. It's a one-way door."

"A what?"

"Some doors, like some paths, are one-way. You can
go forward on them, but not back. They don't exist in that
direction."

"But that's nonsensical!" he protested.

"No, it's magical."

He looked down the path, evidently trying to see the
vanished door. "One-way glass, maybe," he said. "You
can see through it from one side but not the other. If only
I could get my hand on it!"

He still refused to believe! And his foolishness had got-
ten them both stranded here on a magic route, so that they
could not go to the turret on time and be transported di-
rectly to Xanth proper. "You idiot!" she cried, abruptly
furious.

Grey hung his head. "Yeah, I sort of knew that," he
agreed. "I shouldn't've come through. So I just sat and
waited for you to find me. Only—"

"Only I was an idiot too," she said, her anger cooling
as quickly as it had developed. "Well, nothing for it ex-
cept to follow this path."

"I thought maybe you would be able to—-"

"My magic is Enchancement, not portal making. But




84

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

85

it's not a complete disaster. This path must go some-
where." She realized that she could use the mirror to get
back in contact with her mother, but she was with Grey
again and preferred to wait. Maybe there would be some
other way to reach Xanth, without having to make her

error too obvious.

They followed the path up the slope and over the ndge.
It went down across a shallow indentation, then over an-
other ridge, then down into a small valley. There, masked
by bushes and trees, wound a small river.

They came to the river, and stopped, startled. The water

was bright red!

Grey squatted and dipped his finger into it. "Ouch, it's
hot!" he exclaimed. "And thick, like—"

Ivy took his finger and sniffed it. "Blood," she con-
cluded.

"Blood," he agreed. "A river of hot blood!"

"Yes."

"But how can such a thing be? I mean—"

"This is the realm of bad dreams," she reminded him.
"Blood frightens most folk, especially when it splatters.
This must be the source of the blood used in the most
violent dreams."

"But that's—"

"Nonsensical? Magical?"

"Horrible," he said.

"There's no bridge, but the path continues beyond it,"
she said. "How should we cross it?"

Grey looked around. "Somehow I don't want to wade
through it. There must be something we can use to make
a bridge or raft. Maybe there's a boat; I mean, the regular
users of this path must have a way to cross."

"They might jump," Ivy said. "Or have a fly-across

spell; you never can tell."

Grey grimaced, still not believing in magic despite ev-
erything. "Well, since we can't jump that far and have no
flying spell, we'll have to make do with mundane efforts.
Let me check along the bank."

They walked upstream. The forest became thicker, and

there was a huge tree partway fallen across the river, but
no boat or raft.

Grey eyed the tilting trunk. "Wind must have taken that
down, but then it hung up in those trees on the other side.
Looks about ready to fall the rest of the way.''

"Yes," Ivy agreed, nervous about walking under it. If
that huge trunk came down on them, it would drive them
right into the ground!

"Maybe we can make it drop," he continued. "Then
we could walk across on it, no trouble at all." He walked
to the base and pushed with his hands.

The tree was so firm it was rocklike. Then Grey put up
a foot and shoved. Ivy happened to glance at the top,
across the river, and saw it wiggle. "You moved it!" she
exclaimed.

"But it's still hung up. It's too well supported." He
walked around the base. "Look, there's a branch, driven
into the ground. That must be holding it up, while the top
is hung up in the other trees. If I knocked out that bottom
one, it would probably tear free and come right down."

"Right down on your head!" Ivy said, alarmed.

He looked up. "Um, yes. Maybe if I could pull on it
with a rope, if I had a rope ..." He looked around, but
saw no rope. "Some vines, perhaps." But there were no
vines. "On the other hand, if I got a pole and levered at
the base ..." But there was no pole, either.

"Maybe there's something better downstream," Ivy
suggested. "We could walk down and see."

Grey nodded. They walked downstream, beyond the
path that intersected it, but the land only cleared, offering
nothing, and soon the river flowed into a much larger river,
its blood diffusing in swirls through the clear water.

"We might swim around it," Grey said.

"No," Ivy said firmly. "See those colored fins?"

"Sharks! Feeding on the blood!"

"Loan sharks," she agreed. "They'll take an arm and
a leg if you let them, but I suppose they'll settle for just
blood if there's nothing better.''

"Loan sharks," he muttered, looking as if he had
chewed on a lemon.




86 Man from Mundania

"We could follow the path in the other direction," Ivy
said. "Down past where the castle was." But she was
afraid that even if they managed to return to the castle, it
would be too late for the rendezvous with her mother.
Maybe it was time to use the mirror again, even if that
made for a problem with Grey.

"Let's go back to the tilting tree," he said. "There has
to be a way to bring it down."

She was glad to agree, because that would keep him
occupied while she pondered what to do. She was getting
increasingly hungry now; that alone would drive her to the
mirror, if they didn't make progress soon. This setting was
quite unfamiliar to her, and she didn't know what direction
was best. The realm of dreams was odd to begin with, and
she did not enjoy being lost in it.

They reached the tree. Grey scouted around. "You
know, there's a pretty steep slope here," he remarked.
"And only brush, this side. There were a lot of big rocks
in the field we walked through."

"Yes," Ivy agreed, wondering what he was working up

to.

"If we could roll one down here, to knock out that
supporting branch—"

"Yes!" Ivy exclaimed, seeing it.

They hurried up the slope. Soon they were back in the
field. There were several big rocks, ranging from knee-
high to waist-high. "This one seems about right," Grey
said, approaching the largest.

"But that's way too big to lift without magic!" she pro-
tested.

"And too big to move without a lever," he agreed.
"But see how it's perched on the slope. I think it will
work, with a little luck."

"Luck? I thought you didn't believe in magic!"

He smiled. "That kind, I do. Let me see what I can

do."

He walked across the slope, and picked up a sharply
pointed stone he had spied. Then he went back to the
hung-up tree. "Yes, it's pretty good; certainly worth a
try."

Man from Mundania         87

"Try what?" Ivy asked, baffled.
"Making a channel," he said. He squatted, and began
digging beside the supporting branch.

"Don't do that!" Ivy protested. "You'll bring the tree
down on your head!"

"No, this is only the end of the channel." He was al-
ready moving away, scraping the soft forest dirt into a
cavity that was indeed lengthening into a channel.

"You mean—the rock? Down here?"

"Yes. It should roll in the direction of least resistance.
It shouldn't take much of a channel to guide it. By the
time it gets here, it should be rolling pretty fast.''

"Why, that's brilliant!" Ivy exclaimed.

"No, only common sense," he said, pleased. "I'm not
a brilliant guy; you know that."

Ivy thought about that as she searched for a sharp stone
so that she could help. Grey didn't seem to think much of
himself, and indeed he was generally unimpressive, but
he didn't seem to fade much in the crunch. He just keep
plugging away at whatever he was doing, and doing in-
creasingly well. She liked that. She would never have
thought of rolling a rock down a channel to make a tree
fall across a river!

•They dug and scraped, mounding dirt on either side of
the channel, and evening out any bumps so that the rock
could roll smoothly. When they reached the rock, they
deepened the channel, undercutting the boulder.

The rock didn't move. It extended down into the ground.
But Grey kept working at it, deepening the channel and
maintaining its slope, so that when the rock did move, it
would keep moving.

Ivy, fatigued and dirty, straightened up and stood back.
"Maybe if we pushed, now," she said. She wondered
whether she should offer to Enhance his strength for this,
but feared that he would take it the wrong way.

"Maybe," he agreed.

They got on the other side of the boulder, braced their
backs against it, and pushed with their legs.

It moved. Surprised, they tumbled and scrambled out
of the way.




88 Man from Mundania

The boulder crunched down into the channel, hesitated
ponderously, then decided to move on. It rolled, slowly
and raggedly, but determinedly.

They jumped to their feet and followed it down. Would
it break out of the channel? It seemed to be trying to, as
it rolled irregularly, but never quite made it. It gathered
speed, and plunged into the bit of forest.

Just before the branch, the rock veered to one side,
threatening to miss. But the edge of it clipped the branch,
and the branch snapped with a loud crack. The tree shud-
dered, then slowly let itself down as the rock splashed into
the river. Crunch! The top crushed into the ground on the
opposite side and wedged into place.

"Oh, it worked, it worked!" Ivy cried, dancing with
joy. Then she grabbed Grey, hugged him, and kissed him.

"Let's roll some more boulders!" he said dazedly.

She ran to fetch her knapsack. "Let's get across; we've
used up half the day already.''

Grey climbed onto the trunk and followed her. But in
the middle, directly over the river, he paused, staring
down. "I've been thinking," he said. "Where does all
this blood come from?"

"I told you—it's just a prop from the bad dreams," Ivy
said. "It doesn't have to come from anywhere. It's—" She
stopped herself before saying "magic."

"But it goes somewhere," he pointed out. "It goes into
the larger river. And if it doesn't come from anywhere,
then we should have been able to walk upstream and get
around it. It just seems too much like a regular river to
me."

"Maybe there's a blood spring, farther up," Ivy said,
losing patience. "Look, Grey, this place doesn't follow
normal rules as either you or I know them, any more than
dreams do. It's not worth worrying about."

"I was thinking," he continued doggedly, "that if it
comes from an—an animal, a big animal, that creature
must really be hurting. I think we should go check."

Ivy opened her mouth to protest, but the insidious logic
of it began to get to her. A big animal? What an awful
thought!

Man from Mundania         89

"Very well," she said wearily. "Let's find out exactly
where it comes from."

Grey completed his crossing and climbed down beside
her. Then they trekked upstream. Ivy hoped that Grey's
conjecture was wrong, but she couldn't discount it. Surely
a big bucket of blood, self-restoring, would have done the
job as well as this river! And why was the blood so hot?
Temperature hardly mattered for bad dreams, just appear-
ance. Also, why was it out here in nowhere, instead of
more centrally located?

The river coursed interminably, forcing them to climb
over ridges and through thickets. At one point there was
a red waterfall of it, and they had to find a way up the
precipitous slope before they could rejoin it. This was cer-
tainly farther than it needed to be for a dream prop!

Then they reached what might be the source: a hole in
a bank. They piled stones and brush against the bank so
as to make a ramp to the top, expecting to find a lake of
blood beyond. But there was none; it was just a low hill.
Ivy was relieved; there was no animal after all.

The hill moved. Ivy screamed and looked for something
to grab onto, but all that offered was Grey.

They stood, frightened, as the center of the hill swelled
upward. Then it paused, and slowly subsided. And swelled
again. There was an odd wailing sound.

"This hill is breathing!" Grey exclaimed.

Now Ivy caught on. "This is a—a giant! With a hole in
his side!"

"Impossible!" Grey said. But he looked doubtful.

They walked along the length of the hill. Soon they
verified it: there was a monstrous head, its face turned to
the side, breath howling in and out of its mouth. This
really was a living, breathing giant!

"And he's tied down," Ivy said, pointing out cords that
stretched across the outflung arms. "He can't help him-
self!"

"While he bleeds to death!" Grey said, appalled. He
might not believe in magic, but he obviously accepted this
giant. "We must help him!"

90 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 91

"Yes, we must," Ivy agreed. "But how? He's so big,
and we have no tools or anything."

"Maybe we can ask him," Grey said.

"Ask him!" she exclaimed. "But he can't be con-
scious!"

"I think he is," Grey said. He approached the huge
head. "Giant, can you hear me?"

The eyes blinked. The mouth pursed. "Hyesss!" the
wind howled.

"How may we help you?"

The giant's mouth pursed again. This time the words
were clearer. "Magic bandage in pocket."

Ivy looked. Sure enough, there on the chest was a bulge,
and it was a pocket. She knew that a magic bandage would
stop the flow of blood from the giant's wound, because
that was the way magic worked. "It's here," she called to
Grey.

The giant spoke again. "But first—name your reward."

Grey was taken aback. "I don't want any reward! Here
you lie bleeding to death—1 just want to help you!"

The giant was silent. Grey came across to join Ivy, and
together they hauled the huge bandage out of the pocket.
"What an irony!" Grey exclaimed. "The bandage right
here, and he can't reach it himself!"

"Not irony," Ivy said. "Torture."

Grey's mouth opened and closed again. He nodded.

The bandage was as big as the mattress of a bed, but
not as heavy. They pulled it across the giant's heaving
chest and to his side. They let it fall to the ground beyond,
then took turns dropping onto it, as it cushioned their
landings nicely.

They dragged it to the spouting wound. Now Ivy saw
that the blood jetted at high velocity from a relatively small
hole no more than the size of a human head. The bandage
was certainly big enough to cover it—if they could just get
it on.

"I hate to think of the hydraulic force of that flow,"
Grey said. "Maybe that's the wrong term, but certainly it
will blow away the bandage before we can get it placed."

"It is a magic bandage," Ivy reminded him. "I think
we'll just have to try placing it, and see what happens."

"I don't want to depend on magic!" Grey said.

Ivy sighed inwardly. She could postpone this issue no
longer. "I think you'll have to, this one time. You know
we don't have a chance without it."

Grey looked at the wound, then at the bandage, then at
the wound again. "I suppose the technology that can make
a setting like this can make a way to deal with it," he
said. "A force field or something, or maybe the hydrant
gets turned off when the bandage comes near. So we'll
just have to try it."

Ivy wasn't completely satisfied with that rationale, but
at least it meant that Grey was ready to try the bandage.
They brought it up close to the wound.

"Maybe if I shove it across from this side, and you go
across and catch it from that side," Grey said uncertainly.

"Yes." Ivy ducked down and scooted forward. There
was a clear spot of ground right next to the giant's side,
below the jet, because the blood was shooting out so fast
it didn't touch ground for some distance. She passed right
under it, feeling its close heat, and straightened up on the
other side. "Ready!" she cried over the roar of it.

Grey wrestled the bandage up so it leaned against the
giant's side. He unfolded the cute little knife he carried
and used it to slice away the wrapping, exposing the clean
surface. When he had the bandage clear, he put away his
knife, took careful hold, and nudged the bandage forward,
edgewise.

It touched the rushing blood. Despite her confidence in
its magic. Ivy almost expected the bandage to be caught
and flung violently out to float in the red river below. But
the edge of the bandage cut into the stream as if the blood
were no more than a beam of light; there wasn't even any
splash.

Grey gaped, but kept shoving. The bandage lurched
across, cutting off more of the flow. Soon it was all the
way across, and Ivy grabbed hold of it. She hauled it far
enough to be centered across the wound, then pressed it
onto the giant's skin by leaning against it. "Tamp it on!"




92

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

93

she called to Grey—and discovered that she didn't need to
call at all, for the roar of the jet had stopped. She was
right beside Grey, close enough to touch.

They pressed it tight all around the wound. Where the
bandage touched skin, it adhered so firmly that there was
no leakage at all. In the center, over the wound, it merely
thrummed faintly with the pressure of the blood behind it.
The job was done.

Ivy looked down the slope. The river of blood was still
there, but dwindling because its source was gone. It would
probably take days for all of it to clear, if it ever did; some
of it might simply clot in place.

Grey shook his head. "There must have been a lot of
pain there," he said. "Just sort of lying here while his life
ebbed. I have a notion how he must feel."

Ivy thought of his life in Mundania. Indeed, he might
have a notion!

"Now let's see if we can free him," Grey said. "It
would take forever for me to saw through all those bonds
with my penknife, but maybe he knows of a better way."
He walked toward the ramp they had fashioned before.

"Maybe he'll be able to break free, when his strength
recovers," Ivy said, following. "Now that he's not losing
his blood—"

"I don't think so. Enchantments usually come in
threes.''

"What?" she asked, astonished.

"Threes. They set it up that way in fairy tales, so they
probably do the same in fairy-tale settings. We have to
play the game their way or it won't work."

"You believe in magic now?"

"No, just in the way promoters operate."

She was silent. There seemed to be no convincing him!

They came again to the head. "Giant, we have patched
your wound," Grey said. "How may we free you from
bondage?"

The huge mouth pursed. "Magic sword in scabbard."

"We'll try that," Grey said.

"Name your reward."

"I told you: no reward. I just don't like you being stuck

here like this." Grey headed down the giant's chest, look-
ing for the scabbard.

Ivy ran after him. "For a man who doesn't believe in
magic, you're doing very well!"

"Magic has nothing to do with it!" he exclaimed. "This
giant has been treated rotten, and I don't like it. I don't
care if it is just a setting, I can't just let it be."

He didn't believe, but he wanted to do what he thought
was right. Ivy didn't know whether to be mad at him or
proud of him.

The scabbard lay along the giant's right side, below the
bandaged wound. It was huge—and so was the sword it
sheathed. "I can't use that!" Grey exclaimed.

"I think you can," Ivy said. "You may not believe in
magic, but it is obviously working. Put your hand on the
hilt."

"This is crazy!" Grey protested. But he slid down, used
his feet to unsnap the containing strap, and worked his
way up to the hilt. The thickness of the thing was greater
than the length of his body!

But he put his hand on it—and the sword reduced in
size to fit his own proportions, the hilt fitting comfortably
in his hand. He drew it out and held it aloft, amazed.
"This-"

"Is a magic sword," Ivy said, somewhat smugly. "Now
you can use it to cut his bonds."

"Uh, yes," he agreed, disgruntled. "I'd sure like to
know how they managed this effect!''

He jumped the rest of the way down, then walked up
along the giant's side. Wherever he saw a cord, he sliced
carefully at it with the sword, and it parted. He walked
entirely around the giant, cutting every bond, until he
reached the left foot.

"Oops!" he exclaimed.

Ivy had been paralleling him on the top of the giant.
She ran down the leg to see.

There was a giant metal manacle clamped about the
ankle. A heavy chain led from it to a solid metal block
beyond the feet. Even with every cord cut, the giant would
be unable to walk away from this spot!




94        Man from Mundania

Grey continued on around the legs, cutting the remain-
ing cords. When he reached the monstrous scabbard, he
reached up, shoved the tiny sword into it, and let go. Im-
mediately the sword returned to its former size, filling the

scabbard.
They returned to the giant's head. "I have cut the

bonds," Grey announced. "But you have metal shackles

on your feet. How can I get those off?"
Once more the mouth pursed. "Key on pedestal."
"Oh. I should have looked! I'll fetch it."

"Name your reward."

''Forget it, giant! I just want to get this job done." Grey
headed back down to the giant's feet. Ivy followed, be-
mused again by Grey's attitude. He might at least have
asked for that fabulous magic sword!

There was a key by the chains, longer than Grey's body.
But he was catching on to the rules of this region. He put
his hand on it, and abruptly it fit his hand.

He took it to one of the manacles. There was a huge
keyhole there. He put the tiny key in and tamed it. The
manacle snapped open. The giant's leg was free!

He went to the other manacle and opened it similarly.
Then he returned the key to its spot. When he let go, it

became its original size.

"Okay, giant!" he called. "You're free now!"
"Moove awaay!" the giant called from the far-distant

head.

They hurried back away from the legs. Then the giant

stirred. The earth quaked as the limbs moved. The upper
section lifted as the giant sat up. It was like a mountain
being formed from a wrinkle in the terrain.
"Wheeere aare yoou?" the giant called.
"Down here!" Grey called back, waving.
The giant looked, and spotted them. The upper torso
leaned down. "I asked you three times to name your re-
ward for helping me," the giant said.

"And I told you three times no," Grey responded. "If

you're okay now, we'll be on our way."

"But I want to know my benefactor," the giant said.

Man from Munddnia

95

"I beg of you, remain a bit and exchange stories, for the
end of this is not yet."

"I don't like this," Ivy murmured. "He may want to
eat us."

Grey stared at her. Then he shook himself. "No, I can't
believe that would be in the script. But just to be sure, I'll
ask." He cupped his hands about his mouth and called:

"We are hungry, and we fear you are. Can we trust you?"

The giant laughed, and the booming of it echoed across
the terrain. "I don't eat people! I understand they taste
awful! I have magic biscuit. I will share it with you in
exchange for your company this hour.''

"My friend fears we must not eat anything here," Grey
called back.

"This is not dream food," the giant said. "I brought it
with me from Xanth. It is safe to eat."

Grey looked at Ivy. "What do you say?"

Ivy's hunger pangs roiled up fiercely. If the giant turned
out to be dangerous, she should be able to enhance him
into clumsiness. "I say let's trust him. Maybe he knows
the best way out of here."

"Okay," Grey called.

The giant extended his right arm. The huge hand came
to rest on the ground before them.

Grey looked at her again. "Trust him?"

Ivy remembered that she was supposed to return from
this quest safely. "Trust him," she said, and climbed onto
the hand first. She hoped this was a good decision. She
was a Sorceress, but her magic had its limits.

Grey joined her. Then the hand closed partway, forming
a crude cage, and lifted. In a moment they were high
above the trees, traveling swiftly toward the giant's face.

But the giant only set them on the flat top of a nearby
mountain, where he could converse without having to lie
down again or shout. He brought out a jagged fragment
of biscuit that might have been broken from an outcrop-
ping of rock and set it beside them. Then he brought a
piece of cheese as big as a house, and squeezed out a little
grog from an enormous wineskin. "All from Xanth," he
assured them. "Eat your fill!"




96         Man from Mundania

Indeed, he crammed a huge chunk of biscuit and cheese
into his mouth and chewed with evident relish. Ivy could
restrain herself no longer; she walked to the biscuit, used
her foot to break off a piece, and scooped up some of the
cheese. Both turned out to be excellent. They gobbled them
down as if they hadn't eaten for a day or two—which was

exactly the case.

"Now we talk!" the giant said, satisfied. "You tell me

your tale, I'll tell you mine."
Ivy was content to let Grey tell their story, his way. She

settled back against an escarpment of cracker and listened.

Chapter 6. Giant

%^rey was feeling considerably better about
this adventure, now that his stomach was full. The cracker
and cheese made him dry, so he scooped up some of the
puddled grog in his two hands and drank it. Whew! It was
potent stuff!

Then he told the giant their story, condensed. How Ivy
was a Princess of Xanth (why provoke her by saying oth-
erwise in her presence?) who had been sent on a mission
to find a lost Magician but had somehow landed in drear
Mundania, as she put it. How he was an ordinary young
man who happened to live in the next apartment, who had
tried to help her find her way back. How they had climbed
an odd mountain, stepped through a door to a new land,
and discovered the river of blood. "So we came to help
you, because it was the right thing to do," he concluded.
"That's all there is to it."

The giant smiled. From this range it looked like a fis-
sure in the face of a cliffside. "I think not." Then he told
his story.

He was, it turned out, named Girard. He had been a
young (under a century old), carefree giant wandering the
unexplored central regions of Xanth, when . . .

As Girard Giant talked, the grog made Grey relaxed and
woozy. He found it easy to identify with the story, and
seemed to live it himself, as if in a dream.




Man from Mundania

98

* * *

Girard had one bad character flaw, according to others:

he was a do-gooder. When he spied an injured animal, he
tried to help it. When he found a tree suffering in a
drought, he tried to water it. And when he saw wrong, he
tried to right it. Unfortunately, those on the receiving end
did not always understand or appreciate his efforts.

For Girard was an invisible giant. There were a number
of his tribe in Xanth; but they tended to be shy, and they
didn't like to hurt things by treading on them, so they
maintained distant profiles. They romped freely in their
own ranges, but in recent years the human folk had been
expanding and exploring more of Xanth, and this was re-
ducing the giant habitat. They had to tread carefully in-
deed when human folk settled nearby, for humans could
be extraordinarily inquisitive. Human folk also had magic
talents, and that was a problem because some magic could
harm the giants. So the giants retreated as the humans

advanced, generally.

One day Girard spied a new human settlement, deep in

the forest. He knew he should stay clear, but it happened
to be one of his favorite forests, so he remained to see
what was going on. It turned out that the beerbarrel trees
of this region were especially potent, and the man who
was tapping them was hauling the beer to a distant village.
He kept the secret of the trees' location so that only he
could tap them. Realizing that, Girard was satisfied, be-
cause it meant that no more humans would be coming
here, and it would still be safe for giants as long as they

watched out for this one homestead.
One evening there was trouble in the human house. It

seemed the little boy had gotten into the cookie jar when
he wasn't supposed to, and eaten them all, so that no one
else could have any until the cookie bush in the family
garden could grow more. He was sent to his room for the

day as punishment.
But the boy, rebellious, sneaked out his window and

.ran away. Girard, watching invisibly, shook his head; he
knew children were not supposed to do that. He watched
the boy slink into the forest. Because night was coming,

Man from Mundania         99

the forest was dangerous for small creatures; the spooks
of the evening were always alert for helpless victims.

The little boy, naturally, soon repented his action. But
it was too late: he had gotten himself lost. As night closed
he gave up and curled up against a hoarse chestnut and
went to sleep. It seemed that the heavy breathing of the
wind through the leaves of the tree lulled him.

Predators closed from every side. Girard, looking down
from above, could see them. The boy would shortly be a
morsel; the only question was which predator would reach
him first, and whether he would get in one good scream
or none as he was chomped and swallowed.

So Girard, meddlesome as always, succumbed to his
nuisance of a do-gooding instinct. He reached down and
carefully picked up the sleeping boy before any predator
could chomp him. He carried the boy back to his family's
house and set him on the doormat. Then he used the tips
of his fingers, and with the most delicate touch pried up
the roof over the boy's bedroom. When he had the house
open at that point, he lifted the boy again and set him on
his bed in his room. Then he squeezed the house shut
again, slowly, hardly making a sound. The boy was back
where he belonged, and no one the wiser; when he woke
in the morning he would think he had dreamed his running
away, and with luck his folks might never know he had
been gone.

Then Girard returned to the place where the boy had
fallen asleep. He put his hand down by the hoarse chestnut
tree and piled some dead leaves around the fingers, so that
they might be mistaken for a sleeping form. The first pred-
ator to pounce on that would receive a surprise! Girard
didn't plan to really hurt the creature, just shake it around
a bit to discourage it from going after any more sleeping
boys.

But the predators were smarter than he. They smelled
the difference between Boy and Giant, and stayed clear.
Girard realized this only later, after his little trap failed.
At the time he didn't know, and while he waited in perfect
silence he fell into boredom, and then into sleep himself.
Thus his trap became a nap.




100        Man from Mundania

A night mare approached, bearing a bad dream intended
for the bad human boy who had run away from home. She
was Mare Crisium, Cris for short, and she was behind
schedule and very rushed. The gourd was short-hoofed
this night; several mares were getting their hooves
trimmed, so their burden of dreams had to be carried by
others. Thus Cris did not pause to verify the identity of
the dreamer; the boy was supposed to be here and some-
one was here, so she kicked in the dream and galloped off
for the next subject. She was later to get her tail severely
tweaked for that error, but that was another story.

So it was that Girard dreamed the dream intended for
the boy. It would have terrified the boy, but it had a rather
different effect on the giant. The first part was routine: a
brief rehearsal of the boy's flight from home. Then came

the main entre:

A huge female figure loomed, garbed vaguely like the

boy's mother. "Bad boy! Bad boy!" she screamed, her
voice echoing like thunder. "When I catch you—!!"

The boy, of course, was supposed to cringe in fear and
plead for mercy. He knew he deserved the punishment,
and feared it horribly. But Girard gazed at the giantess—
and saw there the woman of his dreams. The boy's dream,
technically, but still a remarkably wonderful creature. He
was smitten instantly with love for her.

The huge hand of the giantess reached down to catch
the scruff of the boy's neck. Girard could not restrain him-
self; he took hold of that hand and kissed it with a re-
sounding smack.

For a moment the giantess looked surprised. Then the

dream censor cut in: TILT! TILT! ABORT! ABORT!

In a moment the dream dissipated, and Girard woke,
He knew what had happened: he had reacted in a way the
human boy never would have, and that had tilted the dream
the wrong way and caused it to self-destruct. The night
mares were very possessive of their dreams; they wanted
none of them getting into the wrong hands. He had given

an erroneous signal and ruined it.

That lovely giantess was gone! Truly, it had become a
bad dream for him, because he would have given anything

Man from Mundania        101

to have seen more of her. Where did she live? How had
she come to participate in the dream? How could he find
her?

From that moment his directionless life was over; he
had a quest. He had to find that giantess!

He asked everywhere, but none of the other giants knew
where she might be. None had even heard of her. "Must
be from some other tribe," one said. "After all, she was
visible."

"She was in a dream; the rules are different there,"
Girard pointed out.

"True. Maybe you should inquire in the realm of
dreams."

That seemed like an excellent notion. The realm of
dreams was in the gourd, as everyone knew. Anyone could
enter that realm, merely by looking in the peephole of any
hypnogourd. The problem was that the person could not
leave until some other party interrupted the contact of eye
and peephole. That could become awkward.

Girard considered. He could ask another giant to stand
by and cut off his view into the gourd. But the problem
was that the outside giant could not know when the time
was right; Girard might be on the verge of discovering the
giantess, only to be cut off and never find her again. He
really did not know much about the gourd, so did not
know what rules operated. Maybe there was some way to
break the contact from inside, so that it would be under
his own control. He decided that since he would rather die
than be without the giantess, he might as well take the risk
of dying in order to make the best possible search for her.

He went to a private forest that had a glade where a
hypnogourd plant grew. He lay down on his stomach be-
tween the trees, wriggling to fit, and propped his chin next
to the gourd. He moved the gourd around until the peep-
hole was about to come into view. Then, chin still
propped, he closed his eyes and set the gourd firmly in
place.

He opened his eyes. One eye found the peephole.




102 Man from Mundania

He was inside the gourd. He knew it was only his soul
self, not his physical body, but he felt the same, and would
not have known better had he not known better.

He was in a jungle. The trees were so big that they were
slightly taller even than himself, and that was certainly the
tipoff that this was not the real land of Xanth. They were
solid, too; as hard as rock maple, by the feel of their
trunks, or ironwood. It hadn't occurred to him that any-
thing in the dream realm could be that solid, but obviously
it was.

Something tickled his bare toes. He looked down and
saw that giant vines were curling over them. They looked
like krakan weed tentacles, with big suckers. A sucker
clamped onto a toe with a slurping sound.

There was pain. It took a while to travel all the way
from his toe to his head, but it was authoritative when it
arrived. "Youch!" he bellowed.

In response, another sucker clamped on, with another
slurp. They were sucking his blood!

Girard didn't have to stand for that! He bent down and
pinched the first vine between his fingers, pulling it off his
toe. But it refused to let go. The sucker sucked so tightly
that it threatened to rip the skin off with it. After a mo-
ment, doubled pain reached Girard's brain: it hurt to pull
on that vine!

Meanwhile, more were rustling in, their suckers quest-
ing for firm flesh. Soon his feet would be food for the
vines, and he would be unable to stop it because it hurt
too much to pull them off!

Girard reacted as giants do: he lifted his free foot and
stomped. The vines caught below it were squished flat.
They wriggled a moment, then expired.

He stomped again, this time right beside his caught foot.
"Take that, sucker!" he cried.

A few more stomps flattened all the vines around him.
The suckers, deprived of their stems, lost suction and fell
away, to be stomped in turn. It served them right.

Giraid walked on. He wondered whether the giantess—
he thought of her as Gina, because that was the way she
had looked in the dream—had come this way and been

Man from Mundania        103

trapped and forced to work for the night mares in the bad
dreams. If so, he was on the right track.

He came to a great halfway flat plain. Ahead of him a
cloud formed, expanding rapidly. It was an ugly cloud,
with mean curlicues at its edges and a droll gray face.

He recognized that cloud! It was Cumulo Fracto Nim-
bus, the worst freak of nature in Xanth. Fracto termed
himself the King of Clouds, but he was just hot air, always
up to mischief.

Fracto formed a mouth and blew out a blast of wind.
Hot air? This was freezing! Girard stepped back, shiver-
ing. But Fracto followed, blasting him with sleet-laden
gales. Snow swirled around him, turning his skin purple
with cold. Soon he would be frozen by the ill wind!

Again, Girard reacted as a giant should. He inhaled
hugely, then blew out a blast of his own. He blew that
cloud topsy-turvy; Fracto's bulbous misty face turned up-
side down.

Fracto was so angry that lightning bolts shot out of his
bottom. But they did no harm, because his nether side was
aiming at the sky. A few incoming sunbeams were dislo-
cated, to their great annoyance, but that was all.

Before Practo could right himself, Girard blew again.
This time the cloud was sent rolling across the sky with
the sound of infuriated thunder. Girard kept blowing until
the cloud was out of sight. So much for that nuisance!

He walked on. He hoped Gina had not been frozen by
the cloud. Women were less blowhardy than men, so she
might not have been able to blow Fracto away.

A new shape was coming across the plain. It loomed
hugely. It was a sphinx—one of the few creatures struc-
tured on the scale of a giant. Usually sphinxes just sat in
the sand and snoozed, but they could be ornery when
aroused, and this one seemed aroused. Better to avoid it.

Girard turned away. But there coming up behind him
was a roc—one of the few other creatures able to compete
with giants. The big bird looked mean.

More shapes were coming from other directions. This
promised to get nasty! Girard lumbered into a run, taking




104        Man from Mundania

such huge strides that the animals and birds were left be-
hind. But not far behind; they pursued him relentlessly.
He came to a wall across the plain. If he stopped at it,
the aggressive creatures would catch him, and he wasn't
sure that would be very comfortable. So he ran right

through it.

The wall cracked into jagged fragments and fell aside.
Beyond it was a lovely pool with twenty lovesick mer-
maids. They screamed as Girard's foot landed in the wa-
ter, splashing a third of it out.

Girard brought himself to a halt, standing in the pool.

"What happened?" he asked, bewildered.

"You incredible oaf, you crashed through a setting di-
vider!" a mermaid screamed. "We were just rehearsing
for our scene, and you ruined it!"

"Your scene?" Girard asked stupidly.

' 'Our dream scene! We are scheduled to love a misog-
ynist to death. He's supposed to fall in the pool, and
we'll—but how can we do that when you've splashed out
all our water?" She flexed her tail angrily.

"A setting divider?" he asked, equally stupidly.

"Do you think our space is limitless? We have to make
good use of it! You're supposed to stay on your side of the
divider in your own setting, and us in ours. But you
crashed through! How will we ever get this scene in shape

in time?"
He looked at her. She was tiny, in the human fashion,

with her wet hair flung across her face and shoulders, but
her shape was definitely there.

Then a black stallion appeared beside the pool. What is
the meaning of this? the horse demanded speechlessly.

"This—this giant just barged in here and ruined our
rehearsal!" the mermaid expostulated. "Look at our set,

Night Stallion! We have a deadline—"

The horse's eyes nickered as if lighted from inside. Sud-
denly the broken wall was restored; in fact there seemed
to be no wall at all, just the pool and a decorative garden
beyond. The water was restored so that the pool was full.
"Eeeek!" a mermaid cried. "Here comes the misogy-
nist! Get that giant out of here!"

Man from Mundania        105

Immediately the mermaids were assuming their places
around the pool, brushing their wild wet tresses. The lead
maid heaved herself up on a rock and inhaled, making her
shape even more definite.

Then the setting disappeared, and Girard found himself
on a featureless plain. He was disappointed; he had been
curious to see how the mermaids would love the misogy-
nist to death. Somehow it did not sound like a bad way to
go. He wondered just what kind of creature a misogynist
was.

It is a man who hates women, the stallion said, appear-
ing before him. Of course the real one is not here; the
maids must address a stand-in while the dream is re-
corded. Then when the dream is carried to the real misog-
ynist, it will be realistic enough to give him his most
horrible fright.

Oh. Now Girard understood. Still, he wondered about
the details of it. Surely not more than one or two mer-
maids at a time could—

What brought you here? the stallion demanded.

Girard explained about the lovely giantess he had seen
in the boy's dream. "I must meet her," he concluded. "I
know she is the one woman for me!"

You fool! She is a mere figment!

"A what?"

An illusion. A construct for one use only. A piece of
temporary scenery. She has no larger existence.

"But I saw her!"

You saw a dream figure, which dissipated with the
dream. Beyond that she is little but a bad memory.

"But the mermaids are dream figures, and they are real,
aren't they?" Girard asked.

The mermaids are regulars. They act in numerous set-
tings. There are many calls for mermaids, even in bad
dreams, but few for giantesses. The one you saw was what
we term an ad hoc figment: an image generated for a single
use only. Forget her; she is nothing.

"She's not nothing!" Girard protested. "I love her!"

You are an idiot. Go back where you came from, and
don't bother us again.




106

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

107

Giants were not, as a class, smart, but they did not
really like being called idiots. Girard began to heat up.
"You mean I can't meet Gina?"

The stallion snorted derisively. You even have a name

for her? Go home, oaf!

That did it. Girard got mad. He stood up straight, looked
around, and saw only emptiness. But he knew that was
mostly illusion. If he ran any distance, he would crash
through another barrier. That would serve this arrogant
horse right—and he might even be able to find Gina some-
where too, for he just knew she had to exist; after all, he

had seen her!

He lumbered into a run, making the plain tremble. Sure
enough, after only a few steps he crashed through a bar-
rier. The featureless plain extended only a short distance
before it became walls that were painted to resemble more
featureless plain. It was a good illusion, but this was no
dream; he could strike these walls and break them down.

Beyond the wall was a new setting: a house made of
candy. It looked good enough to eat, and would make
several mouthfuls for him, but he had been warned about
this: eat nothing in the dream realm because it could lock
him into it forever. He had his own supplies of crackers,
cheese, and grog, and would eat those when he got hun-
gry. So he ignored the house and lunged on.

Soon he broke through another barrier. The painted
candy cane backdrop fell away, and he stepped into a nest
of writhing tentacles. He slogged through them and broke
through into a hillside teeming with goblins. They raised
an outraged outcry at his intrusion, but he slogged on. He
didn't care what the horse said about figments; Gina must
be here somewhere, and he would batter down every par-
tition until he found her!

He broke into an ocean setting. The stallion appeared,
standing on the water as if it were solid. That does it,
giant! I'm putting you under restraint!

"Go ram a bad dream under your tail!" Girard ex-
claimed heatedly, for the exertion added to his anger was
making him very hot. He tramped on.

He crashed through another partition. This one con-


tained an ogre bearing a pointed stick. (Ogres weren't
smart enough to use spears.) "Then die, monster!" the
ogre grunted, and hurled the stick at him.

It struck Girard in the side. That stung, so he caught it
between his thumb and forefinger and yanked it out. It
was no more than a splinter, really, but it ripped a hole in
his side, and his blood poured out. He was about to reach
for the magic bandage in his front pocket.

Then, abruptly, he was flat on his back in a new setting,
and strings tied his body down. He was unable to sit up.

The stallion reappeared. You have misbehaved. Giant,
the horse said. You have wreaked havoc, and must suffer
in consequence. You will remain bound until some inno-
cent creature who knows nothing of your situation frees
you. You must offer that creature a reward three times,
and if it accepts any of those times, all will be nulled and
he will be unable to free you. Fare ill, oaf!

With that the horse disappeared. Girard was left to his
fate.

He lost track of how long he lay there, the blood pour-
ing from the wound made by the ogre. He soon gave up
trying to free himself; he could not. The bonds were mag-
ically strong. So he slept most of the time, slowly weak-
ening.

He realized, after a few days' thought, that he probably
could not bleed to death here, because this wasn't his real
body; what happened here was more apparent than real.
But he still did seem to be losing strength; why? A few
more day's thought developed an answer: his real body,
out in Xanth, was lying there without eating or drinking.
That could weaken him, in time. But still he could not
escape. The bonds held his dream body, and the peephole
held his real body.

A nymph came by. "I'm sorry to see you in such dis-
tress, giant," she said. "I would free you if I could, but
I can't, because everyone knows how you barged in and
bashed up several settings."

"I was looking for Gina," he explained.

"Gina? Oh, yes, the giantess who is a figment. I think




108 Man from Mundania

if you just forgot about her, the Night Stallion might let
you go."

"I can't forget her," Girard said.

"Gee, that's too bad. Well, I have to move on; I have
a gig at the Castle Roogna set. I'm just one of the extras,
but it's a major bad dream." The nymph departed.
Nymphs were not noted for their depth or longevity of
feeling.

Girard thought about Gina for the next few days. The
horse said she didn't exist, but she had to because he had
seen her. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed
to him that a person had to exist if someone believed in
that person, and he believed. So he could not afford to
forget her, because then she might truly be gone.

A ghost floated up. "It must be bad, being mortal," he
said. "I'd like to free you, but I have no substance. Be-
sides, everyone knows how you bashed up those sets. Well,
I have to go on to the Castle Roogna set; I'm playing a
ghost who scared a bad child." He drifted on. Ghosts
were not noted for great sympathy to mortal creatures.

Girard thought about the thing the ghost had said that
echoed what the nymph had said. Everyone knew about
what Girard had done. He was cursed to remain here until
someone who knew nothing about his situation passed.
How long would that take, when everyone knew about it?

Maybe it would be easier to forget about Gina. Then
the horse might free him. But then Gina would not exist,
and he couldn't abide that notion, so he gave it up.

A goblin wandered by. "Say, who're you, bug-brain?"
the goblin inquired politely, after the fashion of his kind.

"Just a bound giant," Girard replied.

"Well, maybe I'd better free you, mud-foot," the gob-
lin said. "I mean, your stupid blood's a menace to navi-
gation. How can we get to the Castle Roogna set when the
blankety path is washed out by this stuff?"

"Name your reward," Girard said, remembering that
he had to ask three times or it wouldn't work.

"A reward!" the goblin exclaimed. "Say, that's a nifty
notion, hair-nose! How about a big bag of fool's gold?"

Now it happened that Girard had a small bag of fool's

Man from Mundania        109

gold tied to his belt, along with his carving dagger. Per-
haps the goblin had seen it, for goblins had extremely
beady eyes. To the goblin it would seem like a big bag.
"Yes, you can have it if you free me," he said.
"Great!" The goblin tried to pull out one of the bonds,
but couldn't budge it. He tried to bite through it, but his
teeth did not dent it. He cursed at it, but though the nearby
foliage wilted, the bond remained tight. "Sorry, can't
break this bond, James," he said.
"That's Girard," the giant said.

"Girard! Hey, I know that name! Ain't you the one
who—?"

"The same," Girard agreed sadly.

"But I'll take the gold anyway, because I did try," the
goblin said.

But the greedy little creature was unable to liberate the
bag of fool's gold either. At length, disgruntled, he stalked
off. Goblins certainly were not noted for generosity or
sensitivity.

Girard thought about the goblin for a few days. It
seemed it was true that the acceptance of a reward made
the rescue impossible. That was too bad. Who would be
fool enough to go to the effort of freeing him without any
thought of reward?

He wondered again whether he should forget Gina. But
he found he just could not, even if he expired. If she
couldn't exist, then he would cease to exist also. That
seemed fair enough.

Then at last the young human couple came. Girard had
so little hope left that he hardly bothered to awaken, and
his voice was out of practice. But to his surprise the young
man did not know of his situation and did not accept any
reward, even though Girard diligently asked three times.
What an amazing and worthwhile creature this was!

"So now at last I am free!" he exclaimed. "Because
of you, Grey Mundane."

"That's Murphy," Grey said. "Grey Murphy of Mun-
dania."




110 Man from Mundania

"Murphy! Hey, I know that name! Aren't you the one

who cursed folk?"

"No," Ivy said. "It's just a coincidence."
"Well, I am glad you came, because now the horse's

curse has been abated and I can resume my search for

Gina."

"But if she's just a figment—" Ivy began.

"I've been thinking about that," Grey said. "If she is
just a figment, why is the Night Stallion so eager to have
Girard forget about her? I mean, who cares who believes
in something that doesn't exist?"

Ivy looked at him as if suspecting an insult somewhere,
but didn't speak. He realized too late that his question
could be taken as a reference to her own belief in magic.

"The horse doesn't want me to believe in Gina," Gi-
rard said. "I don't know why."

"I think I do," Grey said, warming to his thought.
"Here in the dream realm, things go by different rules. So
some things that don't exist in the real world can exist
here, because folk think they do. So maybe it is your belief
in Gina that makes her real. Nobody else believes in her,
but as long as you do, maybe she is real."

"Yes!" Girard agreed. "So maybe I can still find her!"

"So maybe you can," Grey agreed. "But maybe it
would be better not to bash down any more sets while
you're looking, or the stallion will tie you down again."

"But how else can I look?"

"Maybe we could talk to the stallion. There might be
some kind of deal we could make. I mean, you want Gina
and he wants you out of here."

"You want to negotiate with the Night Stallion?" Ivy
asked, amazed. "How can you, when you don't believe in
him?"

"I believe that there is some authority with whom we
can deal," Grey said. "I don't care what his title is."

Ivy shrugged. "The Night Stallion isn't like other au-
thorities. He's dangerous."

"What can he do—enchant me?" Grey asked. But there
was a small core of doubt in him, because the giant seemed
to have been enchanted. Of course that could all be part

m

Man from Mundania

of the setting; still, Girard certainly seemed like a real
person. "But how do we find him?"

"I can summon the Night Stallion for you," Ivy said.

"How? With a spell?"

"With my magic mirror," she said. She brought out a
small hand mirror.

Grey shut his mouth. If she thought she could do some-
thing with that, let her try!

"Night Stallion," Ivy said to the mirror.

What concerns you. Princess? the mirror replied.

Grey jumped. Had the mirror really spoken? He had
almost thought it had!

"My friend Grey wants to negotiate with you," she
said.

In a moment, Princess.

Princess? Had he heard the mirror say that? Did that
mean that he imagined that the mirror not only could talk
but also accepted Ivy as a Princess of Xanth? They had
told the giant their story, but Ivy had not identified herself
to the mirror.

Then, a horse appeared. It was a great black stallion,
standing like a glistening ebony statue. Its eyes nickered.
What is this? A man from Mundania?

"Yes," Ivy said. "He just freed Girard Giant, and now
he wants to make a deal."

The near eye oriented on Grey. Deal?

Grey plunged in. "You tied up the giant for a long time,
hoping he would forget Gina Giantess so you could wipe
her off your books. Well, it didn't work! He still loves her,
and you can't get rid of her until you get rid of him. I
think it's better to try another tack. Why not let him have
her, and he'll take her out of here, and then you can forget
them both?"

The sinister eye flickered again. If you take the giant's
part, you will share his fate.

"Then I share his fate," Grey said stoutly, though his
inner core of doubt was expanding. "What's right is right,
and it isn't right to tie a man down and let him bleed a
river of blood just because he's romantic!"

Again the eye nickered. A gray cloud surrounded Grey,




r

112        Man from Mundania

and strange forces strove at him. Alarmed, he reminded
himself that none of this was real; the setting might be
impressive, but there was no such thing as magic, so it
could not touch him. The stallion was trying to fake him
out, and he refused to be faked.

Then things cleared, and the tableau was as it was be-
fore.

/ can not deal with you, the stallion said, with seeming

surprise.

"What I want is reasonable enough," Grey said rea-
sonably. "Just give Girard what he came for, and we can

all go."

He wants a figment!

"Look," Grey said. "I don't care what kind of a setup
you have here or how it looks to the people who come in
for tours. If you can make a setting as big as a whole
mountain with a castle on top of it and fake flying dragons
with fire and doors that disappear after being used, you
should be able to make a giantess. That's all Girard wants:

the lady he saw in your dream. It was your fault the dream
hit the wrong person; if you put your night mares on a
proper schedule they wouldn't be too rushed to check
closely. Maybe instead of trying to punish Girard you
should work with him to shape up your operation so such
foul-ups don't happen next time." He saw Ivy trying to
signal him to be quiet, but his dander was up and he was
sick of authorities who pushed regular folk around. He had
had more than enough of that in college! This horse was
the mouthpiece of whoever ran this carnival, so he was

telling him a thing or three.

It seems I must come to terms with you, though you
know not what you are, the stallion said, annoyed. He
turned to Girard. The figment can exist only here, not in
Xanth. Would you come here physically to be with her?

"Sure!" Girard said.
Then so shall it be. The eyes nickered, and the ground

shuddered.
A shape loomed from over the hill. Some huge creature

was approaching.
It was the giantess. "Gina!" Girard boomed as her tow-


Man from Mundania        113

ering head came into sight. He lurched to his feet, and
lumbered across to meet her.

"Girard!" she boomed back. "I was afraid you would
forget me and I would cease to exist, for no one but you
believed in me!"

"Never!" Girard cried passionately. They came to-
gether with a crash that shook the whole setting.

Satisfied? the Night Stallion inquired.

"You'll find work for him—for them both—here?" Grey
asked. "No more tie downs?"

Work for them both, the stallion agreed.

"But Grey can't stay here!" Ivy protested.

The stallion turned to her. Obviously not.

"But you said he would share the giant's fate, if he took
his part!"

The stallion paused, as if figuring something out. And
so shall it be. The two shall be linked by exchanging set-
tings. Girard here. Grey there. Do you accept the ex-
change?

"Exchange?" Grey asked.

His body for yours.

"Now wait—" Grey protested.

"He means he'll bring Girard's body into the gourd,
and move ours out of it,'' Ivy explained. ' 'It's a fair deal.''

"Oh. Okay." That was a kind of sharing, he realized.

Once more the stallion's eyes nickered in the unmoving
figure. Then the scene changed.




Chapter 7. Sharing

I

Ivy breathed a sigh of relief. They were in Xanth
proper at last! She wanted to hug the familiar acom and
birch bark trees she saw around them, and kiss the familiar
turf.

Grey stood beside her. He looked around. "Oh—another
setting," he said.

"It's not another setting," she said. "This is Xanth!"

"How can we tell?"

"I've lived in Xanth all my life! I know it when I see
it," she said defensively.

He shrugged as if it didn't make much difference. "It
does seem to be where the giant was. See, there is the
indentation where he lay."

"And there is the gourd, right beyond the holes where
his elbows were propped," she agreed. "The Night Stal-
lion brought his body in and put ours out. Now if I can
just figure out where we are."

"I thought you said you know Xanth. Haven't you been
here before?"

"I know the general way of Xanth," she said. "The
types of trees, for example. But I stay mostly on the en-
chanted paths, and this must be way off those, because the
giants don't use them. We'll just have to find our way to
a path, and then walk down it to Castle Roogna."
114

Man from Mundania        115

"If this is a magic land, why don't you just enchant us
there?"

"Are you making fun of me?" she demanded.

He raised his hands in the Mundane surrender signal.
"I guess I don't know the rules."

"Well, it's because that isn't my kind of magic," she
said, cooling. "My talent is Intensification, not Transpor-
tation. I could make us walk there faster, but that's about
all."

"I don't mind walking," he said. "It looks like a nice
place."

She was relieved that he hadn't thought to inquire about
the magic mirror. Of course she could use it to contact
her mother again, and she knew that she should do just
that. It was right in her knapsack, along with the sign
language book. But the episode with the giant had shown
her more about Grey, and she wanted to work things out
with him before turning up at the castle. The long walk
should take several days, and that might be enough.

"But first we had better eat," she said.

"We had plenty of Girard's crackers and cheese."

"I'm not sure it's the same, in the gourd. I'm hungry
again; aren't you?" That was one thing that was not in
her knapsack: food!

He rubbed his stomach. "Yes, come to think of it.
But—"

"There's a pie plant over there," she said, spying it.
She walked over to it. It was young, with small pot pies
in the budding stage, but she was able to enhance these
into ripeness so she could pluck them. They were only
warm, not hot, but that was the best this immature plant
could do, even enhanced. She gave one to Grey and took
another for herself.

"That's a nice trick," he remarked as he ate. Ivy didn't
comment, because she knew it wasn't exactly a compli-
ment. He thought she had found food provided by the
Mundane management.

The thing about Grey was that he had acted forthrightly
in the gourd even though he didn't believe in its magic.
He had figured out a way to get the across the river, then

116

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

117

had sought the source of all that blood and found the suf-
fering giant. She would never have thought of that, be-
cause she took magic for granted. Then he had insisted on
helping the giant, and had succeeded in freeing him. She
liked that; it showed how Grey cared about people, even
strange ones. Then he had faced down the Night Stallion,
and that had to have taken sheer courage. Even if Grey
didn't believe in magic, he knew that the stallion had power
of that realm. Yet he had stood his ground and finally
made his point.

"What did the horse mean when he said I would share
the giant's fate?" Grey asked as he finished his pie.

"He meant that whatever he did to Girard, he would
also do to you," she answered. "My little brother, Dolph,
ran up against that when he helped Grace'1 Ossian. But he
didn't flinch, and in the end the stallion let him go, and
her too. So when you didn't flinch either, he let you go."

"But he took the giant in! So I didn't share his fate. In
the dream it seemed to make sense, about exchanging
places, but now I'm not so sure."

"Maybe he interpreted it in another way."

Grey looked perplexed. "What other way?"

"Well, Girard got his girlfriend."

He looked at her, startled. "Are you my, uh—?"

Ivy felt herself blushing. "Yes."

"I—but I thought you were mad because I don't, uh,
you know, believe."

"Not mad. Frustrated. But now we're in Xanth, I can
show you how magic works, and it will be all right."

"Ivy, I don't care about magic! But I think you're, uh,
great. You're just the sort of girl I always wanted, without
really knowing it until I met you."

"I feel the same about you, even though you're Mun-
dane."

"You mean you'd like me better, if I believed in
magic?"

"Not exactly. You don't believe I am a princess, ei-
ther."

"Well, I suppose you don't have to be magic to be a
princess."

"I am both, and I want to convince you. But I like you
because you don't believe in either."

Grey shook his head. "I don't understand."

Ivy decided that this was at last the time for candor on
this subject. "Let's assume that I am what I say I am,
even if you don't believe: a Princess who can work magic.
How would a man react, who believes?"

"Well, he'd figure you were a pretty good catch, I think.
I mean, he could maybe marry you and be a king or some-
thing, and even if not, it could still be a pretty good life.
And you're pretty, which doesn't exactly hurt."

"So you believe he would seek my hand for reasons
other than my personality?"

"I didn't mean to say there was anything wrong with
your personality! But yes, I think maybe he would."

"So how could I be sure that a man liked me for my-
self?"

"Well, you couldn't, really, if you didn't hide what you
were. I mean, men don't always tell women the truth about
things."

"Suppose he didn't believe what I was?"

He looked at her appraisingly. "Then, maybe, uh—"

"So when you tell me you like me, I can believe you—
even if I am a princess."

He nodded. "I think I understand, now."

"And if you find out that I really am a princess?"

"I told you, I don't care about that! You can be anything
you want to be, it doesn't matter to me. I just want to be
with you, and have you want to be with me too."

"I am not sure I can believe you."

"I'm not lying!" he protested.

"I didn't say that. But I'm afraid your feelings will
change when you leam more about me."

"I_"

"So I think it is time to convince you that Xanth is real,
and magic, and all the rest. Before we get any deeper.
Because there are complications about associating with a
princess that you may not like."

"Well, of course if you are a princess, what would you




118 Man from Mundania

want with me?" he asked, forcing a laugh. "I'm nothing,
even at home, and less in any magic land."

"I have come to know you, and I like you for what you
are," she said evenly. "I don't think you are nothing or
less, I think you just aren't recognized as a worthwhile
person."

' 'You wouldn't feel that way if you were really a prin-
cess."

Ivy felt a surge of anger, but controlled it. He really
didn't know any better! "I would feel exactly as I do now.
But if you were to—to marry me, you might find yourself
in an embarrassing position."

"To mar—" He coughed, and started over. "Assuming
that any princess would, uh, well, what would be embar-
rassing?"

"Xanth has no reigning queens, only kings."

"Oh." But obviously he didn't see.

"But that simply means that when a woman assumes
the throne, she is known as the king. My mother was king
for a while. Only a Magician or Sorceress can be king,
you see."

"That lets me out!" he said, smiling. "I have no magic
at all!"

"Yes. So if I were king, you would be queen."

He gazed at her, his mouth round. He swallowed. ' 'Why
does it seem that you're not joking?"

"So if you don't want to be Queen of Xanth, you
shouldn't marry me," she concluded. "Because eventu-
ally, not soon I hope, I will be king."

He shook his head. "I—I realize this is all theoretical,
Ivy. You're not saying you would—would marry me.
You're just warning me of the rules of your land. So I'm
keeping my head and just saying that if I were—you know,
uh, married—I wouldn't really care what they called me.
But you know, if you really were a princess, I sure
wouldn't ask you—I mean, that just isn't my league!"

"But would you decline if I asked you?"

He whistled. "I wouldn't be able to! But—"

"You may change your mind," she repeated, "when
the time comes."

Mem from Mundania        119

He just looked at her, unable to comment,
Well, she had said what she had to say. She had given

him fair warning. But that was probably the least of the

hurdles ahead!

There seemed to be no path. Girard Giant had come
here, but he had simply stepped over the trees; they
couldn't follow his tracks! He had selected this to be pri-
vate so his body wouldn't be disturbed, and private it was;

there seemed to be no familiar animals either.

She could use the magic mirror to call home, of course.
But she wanted to convince Grey about Xanth and magic
first, and to give him time to think it through and come to
his conclusions. If that made him hate her, they could
settle it privately. If it didn't—well, she had to be honest
with herself about her feelings. She liked him a lot, and
the moment she let herself go, she could be in love with
him. She condemned herself for being foolish, but he was
a nice person, and she knew he wasn't chasing her for her
position or power. That gave her a deep feeling of security
that she had lacked before. She had discovered, in these
last few days, that what she wanted in a man had nothing
much to do with position, appearance, physical strength,
or intelligence, but a lot to do with decency, conscience,
and loyalty. She could trust Grey, and that made much of
the rest irrelevant.

So she avoided use of the mirror, and would bring it
out only in an emergency. They would pick their way south
toward Castle Roogna—this did seem like the north central
region of Xanth, though she wasn't sure why she thought
that—and she would keep alert for things along the way
that might help convince Grey of the truth.

"I guess I'd better make a path through this jungle,"
Grey said, stepping toward a patch of curse burrs.

"No!" Ivy cried, too late.

Grey brushed by the burrs, and several lodged in his
trouser leg and dug their spikes through the material and
into his flesh. "Youch!" He reached down to pull one off.

"Wait!" Ivy said, again too late.

Grey's fingers touched the burr. "Owmpth!" he snorted




r

120

Mem from Mundania

Man from Mundania

121

through his nose, evidently stifling a more coherent com-
ment.

"Stay where you are," Ivy called. "Don't get any more
on you. Those are curse burrs; the only way you can get
them off is by cursing. One at a time; each curse has to
be different and original."

"I wouldn't curse in front of a lady," he protested.

"And when you get them off, back out carefully. We'll
find another route."

"I have a better way," he said grimly. He brought out
his folding knife. "Any burr that clings to me is going to
get sliced to pieces!"

"That won't work," Ivy said—yet again too late.

For Grey was already flourishing the little knife at the
burrs—and all six of them hastily dropped off. Ivy stood
openmouthed.

"That showed 'em," he said with satisfaction.

"You cursed them all off!" Ivy said. "With the same
curse! That's not supposed to be possible."

"Of course it isn't," he agreed. "How could mere
words affect sandspurs? You have to slice them off."

"Sandspurs?"

"That's what they're called where I came from. People
do tend to curse when they try to get them off, I'll grant
that, but there's no magic involved. Come on, I'll take off
any that get on you. We can continue this way; it does
seem to be the most open route."

Bemused, Ivy followed him. He would have to leam
about curse burrs the hard way: when he tried to use the
same curse against a new batch.

Sure enough, three burrs latched onto her skirt. "Can
you get these off without cursing?" she inquired.

"Sure." He stepped close and extended his knife to-
ward her skirt. "Turn loose of her, or I'll slice you!" he
said with mock fierceness, and touched her skirt with the
point of his knife.

The three burrs dropped off.

"Maybe these are a different variety," Ivy said doubt-
fully.

"Maybe they just know who's got their number," he

retorted. Then he turned and faced ahead. "All right, you
burrs, listen up: any of you who touch either of us will
get hurt, so stay clear if you know what's good for you!"
He smiled. "Now if curses work, that'll keep them clear."

Ivy shrugged. Grey stepped boldly forward, and she
followed—and no curse burrs got on either of them.

How could this be? It was as if magic was stopping the
burrs—yet Grey was Mundane, with no magic, not even
any belief in it. It seemed more likely that his curses would
fail to have effect than that his threat with the dinky knife
would frighten all the burrs. Was it possible that they didn't
know he was Mundane and thought his threat was backed
by magic?

They passed beyond the curse burr patch and came to a
stately tree with colored flowers. Grey walked toward it,
evidently meaning to pick one.

"Careful," Ivy warned him. "That's a two-lips tree!"

"A tulip tree? No it isn't. I've seen them; their flowers
are different."

"But you aren't where you came from. Here, a two-lips
tree—" But Grey wasn't paying attention, so she let it go.
He would find out!

Grey stepped close, reaching up for one of the larger
flowers. It avoided him. He moved closer yet, stretching—
and another flower nudged down and kissed him on the
cheek with a significant smack.

He paused, startled. "I could have sworn that—"

"That's right," Ivy said smugly. "Those are kissing
flowers."

"Impossible," he said. "Flowers can't kiss."

"Two-lips," she explained. "They like to kiss folk."

"I don't believe it." He stepped yet closer into the tree.
"Let's see whether anything kisses me while I'm watch-
ing."

He waited, but nothing happened, to Ivy's surprise.
Usually a two-lips tree would kiss anything that got within
its range, making loud smacking sounds that carried across
the forest. It was harmless, but embarrassing.

"Maybe it doesn't like the way you taste," she said.




122 Man from Mundania

"Maybe it's magical, so can't stand scrutiny," he
retorted, stepping away from the quiescent tree.

"Just don't try that with a tangle tree," she said, dis-
gruntled.

"I know what that is. But I'll have to see it grab some-
thing, before I believe it."

They went on. The vegetation thinned and the ground
turned sandy. There was a feel of magic about it that both-
ered Ivy. There was something about this region, and it
seemed to be associated with the sand. She didn't like
mysteries in strange places; they could be dangerous.

"Wait," she said.

Grey paused. "Tired?"

"It's not that. I'm not sure I like this region."

"It seems nice enough to me. This sand is easy to walk
on; we can make good progress before night."

"Not if we walk into a trap."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't want to do that. Where I live
there can be quicksand—that's stuff that you can get caught
in, so maybe you drown."

"Ours makes you speed up," Ivy said. "And slowsand
makes you slow down, which can be awkward. But this
seems to be something else. Let me see what I can do
with it."

"Make a sand castle, maybe," he said, smiling.

Her talent was Enhancement not detection, but she de-
cided to investigate in her fashion. As she stepped on the
sand, she enhanced it, so that its qualities would become
more obvious.

For a moment the sand just lay there. Then it rippled.
Waves spread across it, as if it were water.

Ivy continued to concentrate, enhancing it further. She
wanted to see whether it was dangerous.

The ripples became humps. Was this a dread sand dune,
looking for subjects to turn into fossils? Her parents had
encountered one of those once. Dunes liked to bury living
creatures forever or until their flesh fell apart, leaving
handsome bones. Ivy wasn't yet ready to part with her
flesh.

Then a big central hump formed. It rose up and up, and

Man from Mundania        123

finally formed into a vague manlike form. It stood there,
half again as tall as Ivy, its hair formed of dry weeds and
its eyes of mica pebbles. It had a nose made of a twisty
root, and ears of tattered seashells.

"What are you?" Ivy demanded of it.

The sandman shifted shape, the sand humping as if
driven by the wind, except that there was no wind. It as-
sumed the shape of a four-footed animal with root horns
and a viney tail.

"You haven't answered," Ivy said. The thing didn't
seem dangerous, but she wasn't sure.

The sand changed again, becoming a small tree with a
thick trunk and stubby branches that waved clumsily in
the make-believe wind.

"Now look—" Ivy started.

"I wonder how the effect is achieved," Grey said, strid-
ing across to touch the sand formation. "I can't believe—"

Immediately the sand sifted down and became a fea-
tureless mound, its pebbles and shells and roots randomly
distributed.

"Oh, you spoiled it!" Ivy exclaimed, annoyed. "I was
about to find out whether it was dangerous."

Grey stirred the pile of sand with his toe. ' 'It's not dan-
gerous; it's just sand. But it certainly looked like a sand-
man for a moment there! I knew it was illusion; I just
wish I could have figured it out without destroying it."

"Well, I was about to do that," Ivy said crossly. But it
did seem that the sandman was no danger; the feeling of
strangeness was gone.

Now the day was getting on. "We had better find a
place to camp," Grey said. "There could be wild crea-
tures in the night."

There could indeed! They had not encountered any bad
ones so far, which was remarkable; maybe the curse burrs
and sandman kept them out. But those things seemed to
lack force, here, so she doubted it. She hoped there wasn't
some truly formidable predator who used this region as its
hunting ground, eliminating most of the other dangers.
She would prefer to deal with a series of small menaces,
rather than one really big one, because she wasn't sure

124

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

125

how effective her enhancement talent would be against a
truly formidable creature. Usually when she explored, she
had Stanley Steamer along, and he had taken care of per-
sonal defense.

She looked around, but there was no suitable camping
place. They would just have to go on, though her feet were
tired and her legs too; she wasn't used to this much con-
tinuous walking.

"Maybe under that tree," Grey suggested, indicating a
large tree whose tentacles reached almost to the ground.

"That's a tangle tree!" Ivy shrieked, appalled.

"Yeah, I guess so. But we can't play this game forever.
I'm sure it's harmless when its bluff is called." He walked
boldly toward it, using one of the pleasant little paths that
approached it.

"No!" Ivy cried, dashing after him. "Nobody but an
ogre or a dragon messes with a tangler, and even they are
careful. Don't go near it!"

"I'm sure most creatures here feel as you do," Grey
said, proceeding without pause. "That means they will
stay clear of it, and we can spend a comfortable night
under its shelter. That seems ideal to me."

Ivy caught up to him and grabbed his arm. "You don't
understand! That tree will grab you and gobble you down
the moment you come within reach! I'm not sure I can
protect you from—"

But she lost her balance, and stumbled, and they both
fell right into the nest of the tentacles. Ivy felt sheer panic.

But the hanging tentacles remained quiescent. Not one
grabbed at them. The tree seemed to be asleep.

"Oh," Ivy said, relieved. "It must have feasted re-
cently, so it's not hungry. What luck!"

Grey shook his head. "You have an explanation for ev-
erything! Okay, it's not hungry. So let's camp here tonight.
No one else will realize that it's safe under here."

"True," she agreed faintly. She remained nervous about
being this close to a tangler, but it certainly was true that
a sated tree was safe.

She located some milkweeds and a breadfruit tree; for-
tunately these were common all across Xanth, so they had

bread and milk for dinner. There was also a pillow bush
nearby, with extremely plush pillows; they made two beds
of them under the tree. Obviously none of these plants had
been harvested recently, because of the shortage of trav-
elers.

Ivy lay for some time without sleeping, bothered by
things. Where was the great menace that kept travelers
away, and why were even the ordinary menaces so feeble
at the moment? She had been making spot excuses for
them, almost embarrassed because they were not mani-
festing adequately to convince Grey they were genuine.
She had concluded that this tangle tree was sated, but she
saw no recent pile of bones, and the tentacles did not look
sleek and strong in the manner of a well-fed tree. This
tree should be hungry, yet wasn't, and that made sleep
nervous. Which reminded her: that sandman—probably it
was related to the ones that came by night to put children
to sleep, and perhaps it usually put travelers to sleep near
this tangle tree, so the tree could snake out a tentacle and
haul them in without resistance. Yet in the face of Grey's
skepticism, the sandman had collapsed into inert sand.

There, maybe, was the crux of it: Grey thought that
magic was mostly in her mind, that she saw it work be-
cause she believed it did. In Mundania she had been un-
able to demonstrate otherwise. But now they were in
Xanth—and she still couldn't penetrate his unbelief. It
seemed that he was constitutionally unable to accept
magic, and that therefore the magic didn't work for him.
That was a fundamentally unsettling notion! Suppose
magic didn't work for anyone who didn't believe in it?

Now that was an interesting idea! Could that be why
Mundanes didn't have magic talents? Because they didn't
believe in them? But when they moved to Xanth, their
children were exposed to magic from the outset and never
learned not to believe, so had talents. If the Mundanes
were just more open-minded, they might turn out to have
talents the moment they entered Xanth! After all, the cen-
taurs had turned out to have talents, those who stopped
thinking that talents were obscene.

No, that didn't hold up. Some Mundanes were open-




126 Man from Mundania

minded, but none had ever had a magic talent. Some of
their children were close-minded, but still had talents. Be-
lief might be a factor, but not the major one. A person
had to be bom in Xanth to have magic.

So what was she going to do about Grey? It was foolish,
she well knew, but she liked him. She liked him a lot. But
the moment they reached Castle Roogna, any romantic
relationship would be over. She was a princess, and while
she didn't have to marry a prince, certainly her folks would
not allow her to marry a Mundane! She had tried to ex-
plain that to Grey, but had gotten caught up in her own
rebellion and discussed only the awkwardness of marriage
between them, not the impossibility of achieving it.

What would happen if she insisted on marrying a Mun-
dane? She would disappoint her parents terribly, and that
hurt. They might have to take action, such as banishing
her to Mundania, and that would hurt more. But if she
went with Grey, would that make it worth it?

To live the rest of her life in drear Mundania without
magic—that was an appalling prospect. Yet she could
imagine doing it, almost, with him. Grey was completely
ordinary, but there was something about him that appealed
to her, and she knew his interest in her was genuine. Was
that enough?

She shook her head in the darkness. She knew, objec-
tively, that it was not enough. Love could be fun, but it
didn't last if not soundly based, and for her to move to
Mundania would be like a mermaid moving to land: pos-
sible, but problematical.

No, she could marry Grey only if he remained in Xanth
with her—and that meant she had to have the approval of
her parents. That meant in turn that she couldn't marry
him. Yet her heart wished that she could.

She would simply have to get her heart under control.
She knew that. But she also knew it was going to hurt.

Maybe when Grey finally learned that magic was real,
he would suffer a revulsion against it and Xanth and her,
and choose to go home to Mundania alone. That would
solve her problem, as the decision would be out of her
hands. But it still would hurt.

Man from Mundania        127

Ivy lay quietly on the pillows, her eyes closed, the tears
nevertheless running down her cheeks.

She woke to the wan light of a shrouded morning. As
her eyes adjusted she discovered Grey sitting beside her.
"You okay?" he asked.

"Of course I am," she said, sitting up and shaking a
stray leaf out of her hair. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I, uh, thought you were unhappy or
something, maybe sick. I was worried."

She smiled. "I must look wretched! But that's because
I'm not used to sleeping out. Let me find a brook to wash
in, and I'll be better."

"Uh, sure. I'd have gone out and looked around, but I
didn't want to leave you alone."

"I wouldn't want you going out alone," she retorted.
"Not until you believe that the dangers are real."
They went out together, and did find a spring nearby.

"Let me test it," Ivy said. "These things can be danger-
ous."

"Why? Are they poisoned?"

"Not exactly. Some are love springs."

"Oh, yes—they make the creatures who drink from them
fall in love with each other. What a horror if we should
drink from one of those!"

Ivy glanced at him sharply. Grey tried to hold his face
straight, but couldn't, and had to laugh. She laughed too,
more with relief than humor. "It's not as nice as that,"
she warned him. "Love may be a euphemism. When it
happens, they breed immediately, being unable to restrain
themselves, even if they are of two different species. It is
believed that that's how the major crossbreeds got started—
centaurs, merfolk, harpies, and so on. So you wouldn't
want to drink from one by accident."

"Of course I wouldn't," he agreed, but he looked
doubtful.

Ivy squatted by the spring and concentrated, enhancing
it. If it was a love spring, the enhancement would cause
it to affect the plants growing around it, and they would




Man from Mundania

128

start loving each other in whatever manner they could

manage.

Nothing happened. "It's all right," she reported. "It's

just water."

"I'm sure it is," he agreed condescendingly. Again she
had to suppress her annoyance. He didn 't know any better.
This was the other side of it: because of his ignorance,
she could trust his feeling for her, but it was also a con-
stant source of irritation. She wasn't used to such diver-
gent feelings for the same person.

They dipped out double handfuls of water to drink. Then
she washed her face and hands. The rest other was feeling
a bit grubby, but she decided not to strip and wash. After
all, she would just have to climb back into the same dirty
clothing. She had changed to her clean clothes the night
in the mock Castle Roogna, and then gotten those dirty
trudging along the river of blood and pushing the boulder.
She would probably have to throw away this Mundane out-
fit the moment they reached Castle Roogna. She hoped
Agenda, whose clothing it was, wouldn't mind.

That was funny, the way Grey had met such a series of
peculiar girls who used the room before Ivy was sent there
by the Heaven Cent. And the way Com-Pewter had been
there, with a bit of magic. Grey had told her that an odd
"program" from someone called Vaporware Limited had
changed the machine. She wondered whether Vaporware
lived in Xanth; that might explain a lot. Still, magic wasn't
supposed to work at all in Mundania, so a mystery re-
mained.

"Com-Pewter," she said. "How did he do magic in

Mundania?"

"My computer didn't do magic," Grey said. "It just
had a good translation program, so we could talk. I
guess." He didn't seem to be entirely satisfied either. "It
sure was strange what it did, though. It admitted at the
end that it was setting me up for you."

"Setting you up?"

"It had something to do with all those oddball females.
When I demanded a good one, it brought you. I don't
know how, but I'm sure glad it did."

Man from Mundania        129

"No one brought me!" she protested. "The Heaven
Cent sent me."

' 'Whatever. I think that program knew you were com-
ing, somehow, and took the credit. But I don't care. My
life was like dishwater until you came, and then it was like
sunrise."

Ivy had learned about dishwater in Mundania, because
the same dishes had to be used over and over again, which
meant they had to be washed. "And I was a dishwater
blonde," she said, remembering how the magic green had
washed out of her hair.

"You were beautiful," he said.

She tried to think of some clever response, but her mind
froze up. He was telling the truth. He had seen her unen-
hanced—drab really—yet had liked her. There could be no
better compliment than that.

"We'd better eat," she said, changing the subject.

"I saw some—they looked like lollypops, growing out
of the sand, back there," he said.

Ivy checked. "Sugar sand," she said. "Naturally sweet
things grow in it. Here are some sugar doughnuts, and
here's sugarcane." She picked some of each. "And a sug-
arplum tree over there. We'll get sick of sweets, but at
least it's food."

They ate. "You're right," he said as he chewed on the
candy-striped cane. "I am getting tired of sugar! I never
thought I'd see the day!"

"How is it that you eat these magical plants, but still
don't believe in magic?" she asked mischievously.

"Sugar doughnuts and sugarplums aren't magical," he
protested. "Though I admit that in Mundania sugar sand
and sugarcane have different definitions."

They moved on, bearing south. They came to a well-
worn path. "Great!" he exclaimed. "Now we won't have
to plow through brush!"

"This isn't one of the enchanted paths," she said. "Un-
known paths are not to be trusted until their nature is
understood. You never can tell where they might lead."

He peered at the tangled jungle across from the path.
"Can't we risk it, this once? My legs are tired."

130 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 131

Ivy considered. Her legs were tired too. "Maybe if
we're careful. If we hear anything, we should get right off
it, though."

They walked down the path. It was indeed a nice one,
well beaten down. It wound along the contour, passing a
number of fine fruit and nut trees.

Then they turned a curve, and discovered three goblins
blocking the path ahead.

"Oopsy," Ivy said. "Goblins are never good news. Run
the other way!"

They turned and ran back around the curve—and dis-
covered three more ugly goblins. They were trapped.

"They don't look very big," Grey said. "Maybe I could
knock them down."

"There are always dozens more goblins near the first,"
Ivy said darkly. Sure enough, more goblins were already
crowding in behind the three. They were squat little men,
almost black, with big heads, hands and feet, and huge
grimaces.

"Maybe they're friendly," he suggested hopefully.

"Goblins are never friendly. I'll have to summon help."
Ivy brought out her magic mirror. "Castle Roog—"

A goblin leaped forward and grabbed the mirror from
her hand. "None of that, slut!"

Grey leaped for the goblin, but it was already too late;

the mirror had disappeared amidst the throng. "Don't fight
them!" Ivy screamed. "We'll have to talk our way out
of this!"

Grey, seeing the throng, desisted; it was obvious to any-
one that they could not hope to fight their way clear of
such a number.

A goblin chief appeared, distinguished mainly by his
greater ugliness. "You're going to talk your way out of
this, wench?"

"I'm no wench!" Ivy protested. "I'm Princess Ivy!"

"And I'm the king of the dragons!" the goblin retorted.
"Har, har, har!" All the goblins joined in the coarse
laughter. "Well, I'm Grotesk Goblin, and we're the Gob-
linate of the Golden Horde, and we don't care who you
are!"

"Well, give me back my mirror, and I'll prove it!" she
said. "My father will recognize me."

"And will send hostile magic against us, if you are,"
the goblin said. "We don't need any of that. Better if he
just doesn't know what happens to you." He turned his
head to the side. "Tell the Golden Gals to heat up the pot;

we've got two live ones for supper tonight."

Immediately a messenger goblin set off, running on his
stubby legs down the path. He really wasn't golden; it was
evidently just a name they had chosen.

This was getting desperate! Ivy knew she would not
really get boiled, because of her guarantee of a safe return,
but as usual she feared for Grey, who had no such assur-
ance. How could she get him free of this Golden Horde?

"And who're you—the king of the centaurs?" Grotesk
demanded of Grey.

"Don't answer him!" Ivy warned. But once again she
was too late.

"I am Grey, from Mundania," Grey said.

"A Mundane!" the goblin exclaimed. "We've never
cooked a Mundane before. Do you believe in magic?"

"No."

"Well, now! Maybe we can have some sport with this
one!" The chief turned his head again. "What shall we
do with the Mundane?"

There was a horrible clamor of violent and obscene sug-
gestions. Unsatisfied, Grotesk turned again to Grey.
"You're with the ha-ha princess here. What do you think
of her?"

"Don't answer!" Ivy cried.

"Shut up, trollop," the chief said, swinging at her head.

Grey reached out and intercepted Grotesk's arm. "Leave
her alone!"

Immediately several goblins surged in and bore him
back, but the chief was not annoyed. "I think we have our
answer," he said. "He likes her—and surely she likes him.
There's the key. Before we cook them, let's play with them.
Take them to the hate spring."

There was a roar of approval. Ivy and Grey were hustled




132        Man from Mundania

on along the goblin path. Ivy was dismayed anew; she
knew what mischief a hate spring would be!

They passed the goblin village. There was a bedraggled
small centaur, haltered and tied to a stake. These goblins
knew no limits! Nobody tied a centaur, lest it bring ter-
rible retribution by centaur archers from Centaur Isle. Yet
here was a young male, evidently bound magically, for no
halter could hold such a creature otherwise.

They reached the spring a short distance beyond. It was
dismal as springs went, shallow and muddy, with a tiny
island in the center. The goblins hauled over a boat and
put her in it. One got in front, and one in back, with
paddles; both were extremely careful not to splash.

"You're afraid even to touch it?" Ivy asked. "Such wa-
ter doesn't work unless you drink it."

"That's all you know, slattern," Grotesk called from
land. "One touch of this anywhere on your body, and you
hate the next creature you see to pieces, and will try to
kill him any way you can. Go ahead, dip your finger; you

already hate us, so it won't matter."

Ivy shivered, not dipping her finger; this was hideously
potent stuff! No wonder the goblins had camped near it;

they loved to hate.

They deposited her on the tiny isle, then paddled back,
leaving her stranded there. Then they hauled away the boat
and brought Grey up to the edge. "Very well. Mundane,"
Grotesk said. "You don't believe in magic? Then you don't
think this hate spring will affect you. Go rescue her!"

"Don't touch that water!" Ivy called. "It will make you

hate me!"

' 'Why couldn't I touch it and hate you ?'' Grey asked

the chief. "Then I wouldn't hate her."

"Go ahead!" the goblin agreed as the horde laughed.
"One touch, one hate; we don't care how much you hate
us as we cook you. Maybe you'll even utter some nice
Mundane curses to entertain us. But you can't reach your
girlfriend without crossing that spring, and when you see
her or touch her you'll hate her. So you might as well get

on with it."

"What good is it to go to her, if you're going to cook

Man from Mundania        133

us anyway?" Grey asked. "I might as well just stay here
and not cooperate with you at all."

There was a groan from the throng. They didn't like
that threat because it ruined their sport.

"Very well, Mundane—if you cross to her, I'll let you
go. We'll only eat her."

"Don't deal with him!" Ivy cried. "Goblins can't be
trusted!"

"No, I want to rescue her," Grey said, in that infuri-
atingly reasonable way he had. "You have to let us both
go, or I won't cooperate."

Grotesk pondered a moment. Then his eyes lighted cun-
ningly. "Suppose I let you decide her fate, when you get
there? You go free and you take her with you if you want."

"Yes, that seems fair," Grey agreed.

"Don't do it!" Ivy screamed. "He'll break his word
the moment you're across! And you'll hate me!"

"I don't think so," Grey said. He stepped toward the
pool.

"No!" Ivy cried despairingly. "No, no, no!" It was
crazy, if Grey was going to die anyway, but she didn't
want him to die hating her.

Grey waded into the water. A jubilant cheer rose from
the Golden Horde. His eyes were fixed on Ivy as he pro-
ceeded, the water rising gradually to his waist as he
crossed.

Ivy stood, transfixed by horror. A man who hated her
was coming for her, and she could not get away without
touching the water herself. She discovered that there was
one thing worse than having him hate her: for her to hate
him back. She had to try to salvage her own emotion, so
as to remember him with pleasure instead of displeasure.

He strode out of the water, his trousers clinging to his
legs. He came to stand before her, his eyes still fixed on
hers. Ivy knew her tears were flowing. She had seen the
need to break up their association—but not this way, oh
not with hatred!

"I want you to know, Grey," she said falteringly, "that,
that whatever you feel for me now, I still think you're
wonderful. Do you hate me very much?"

134 Man from Mundania

"Hate you?" he said, bewildered. "Ivy, I love you!"

She stared at him. "You—you're not cruelly teasing
me?"

For answer he swept her into his arms and kissed her,
hard. Suddenly she could not doubt: this was the passion
of love,

Then she realized that the cruelty was that of the gob-
lins. This wasn't a hate spring at all, it was just a muddy
pond! The Golden Horde was trying to make complete
fools of them both!

And that meant that she was not stranded here. She
could cross the pond just as Grey had. She could escape—
and take Grey with her, protecting him with her security.

"Oh, Grey," she said. "I'm so glad! Hold my hand
tight; we're getting out of here!"

"Of course," he agreed.

But it wasn't enough. Her emotion was overflowing and
demanded a more significant expression.

"Grey, will you marry me?" she asked.

He paused, amazed. Then he recovered. "Yes, cer-
tainly, Ivy. But—"

She cut off his protest with another kiss.

Chapter 8. Gap

•hen he released her. Even though the water
wasn't poisonous, those goblins were mean characters, and
the two of them still had a problem about winning free.
He was not at all sure the goblin chief would honor his
promise to release them, but he hoped to shame the little
man into it.

But it was hard to concentrate on such things in the face
of what had just happened. Ivy had asked him to marry
her—and he had agreed! What an incongruous occasion
for such an engagement!

"We're not out of this yet," Ivy said. "I've got to get
my mirror back. Then I can call for help. If you can think
of a way to get it for me—"

"Maybe I can," he said, his mind spinning. It was as
if what had just happened between them had revved up
his brain so that he was thinking with uncommon clarity
and power. "The hate water isn't real, but it occurs to me
that most of the goblins may believe it is. The chief would
know the truth, but keep the unruly minions cowed by
threats to use the water on them. That means we can bluff
them."

"But in a moment they will see that you don't hate
me!" Ivy said worriedly. "Then they'll all know."

"I don't think so. If I claim to have powerful magic that
makes me immune—"




136

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

137

"But Grotesk will know that's not true!"

"But he won't dare say so, because then his hold on the
others will be weakened. He will have to support me,
though he hates it. So I can force him to honor his deal,
because he'd rather let us go than lose his position and
maybe get thrown in the pot himself by the angry dupes."

Ivy's face clouded, then brightened as she understood.
"Grey, that's brilliant!" she exclaimed.

"Something about you that brings out the best in me,"
he said wryly. Indeed, that seemed to be true. He had
never been in love before; this episode had brought it out,
and he seemed almost to be floating. Suddenly he had
confidence in himself such as he had never had before.
"While we're at it, we'd better rescue that poor centaur,
too; it will be bad if they take out their wrath on him."

"You care so much about others who are in trouble,
like Girard Giant," Ivy said. "I think that's why I love

you."

He hadn't thought of it that way. He had just done what
he felt ought to be done, without thought about whether it
impressed her. In fact, she had seemed irritated when he
insisted on seeking the source of the river of blood. Maybe
that was what had been wrong with his life before: he had
been trying to impress people, and had had inadequate
resources, instead of just focusing on what was right. But
now, with Ivy, he didn't care about any of that; he just
wanted to make her happy.

Then he thought of something else. "But can I justify
telling them something I know is not true? I mean—"

"You're playing their game," Ivy said quickly. "They
told you this was a hate spring. So you agree, but tell them
your magic counters it. You're a liar only if they are."

He wasn't quite sure of that logic. Still, this whole realm
was a setting, a phenomenal setting, and it was easiest to
go along with its rules. That's why he referred to goblins
instead of dwarves or simulacra, and to the centaur instead
of trying to figure out how the thing was animated. "Okay,
for now, until I reason it out better. Take my hand; my
supposed magic must seem to extend to you while you are
in contact with me, so you can brave the bad water."

She took his hand. Hand in hand they waded into the
water. "See, goblins!" he cried. "My magic counters your
hate water! I can wade in it without hating anyone—even
you!"

The goblins watched, dismayed. They looked to their
chief, but Grey preempted Grotesk's response. "You know
that's true, don't you, chief!" he cried, playing up to the
lie. "You know that if this water touches others, they will
be affected by it." He extended his free hand and made
as if to scoop some water. "If I splash them—"

"Don't do that!" the goblin chief exclaimed with evi-
dent alarm.

Grey put on his crudest smile, hoping it worked. He
had guessed right: Grotesk had to support him in this ruse!
"Yes, you know what will happen! So don't tempt me,
sour-snoot!"

The chief didn't tempt him. The goblin had to maintain
the illusion of the water's power. "You said you were
Mundane!"

"Well, maybe I exaggerated," Grey said. Mundanes,
of course, were not supposed to have magic. But Grotesk
could not point that out, without giving away his own se-
cret.

They waded up to the edge, but did not step out of the
water. "Now before we go, I want you to return the lady's
property," Grey said. "Bring her mirror."

"Har, bar, har!" a goblin in the rear laughed. "Fat
chance!"

Grey leaned down so that his hand was within reach of
the water. "If the goblin who spoke cares to step forward,
I have something for him," he said evenly. The truth was
he was quite nervous; how far could he push this bluff
before the goblins called it?

There was a silence. Grey looked around as if per-
plexed. "What, is no one in the Golden Horde thirsty?"
he inquired. "Well, perhaps if I proffer a free sample—"
He swished his hand through the water.

"Bring the mirror!" Grotesk shouted.

There was a stir, and soon a goblin brought the mirror.
"Don't splash!" he pleaded.




138        Man from Mundania

"I won't splash if I get what I want," Grey said. "Ivy,
take the mirror, but don't let go of my hand. I can't protect

you if you aren't in contact.''

"Yes," Ivy said, doing a marvelousjob of looking very
nervous about the water; she clung tightly to his hand. She
reached forward; the goblin stood at the bank and ex-
tended the mirror, and she took it while the chief glow-
ered.

"Now we shall need transportation away from here,"

Grey said. "Bring the centaur."

But Grotesk had just figured out a cunning counterploy.
"Back away from the water!" he cried. "Get out of

splashing range!"

Uh-oh. That would allow the chief to keep his secret,
and grab them when they left the pool. "Ivy, do you have

a cup?"

Ivy reached over her shoulder, set the mirror in her

backpack, and pulled out a cup.

"Dip it full, and throw water at anyone who looks trou-
blesome," Grey said.

She dipped it. Then they stepped out of the water, still
holding hands. The goblins retreated. Grey saw that a
number of them held stones or clubs, but no one acted
because the chief hadn't told them to. Grotesk couldn't
afford to act until that cup of water was gone—and he
couldn't afford to have them throw it on any goblins and

demonstrate its worthlessness.

They walked across to the centaur. "Can you carry both

of us, if we free you?" Grey inquired.

"I think so," the creature replied. "I've been a beast
of burden for these monsters; I'm miserable but strong.
But this is a magic halter; only the chief can untie it."

"The chief, eh?" Grey glanced across at Grotesk and
realized that this was another bluff. "Well, I have a special

talent with knots, too, so—"

"No, Grey," Ivy murmured. "No one in Xanth has two

magic talents."
Grey was sure the halter wasn't magic; it was just so

constructed that the centaur's own hands could not reach

Man from Mundania

139

the key clasps to undo it. But he had to play by the rules.
"Well, maybe my magic knife will cut it," he said loudly.

He brought out his knife and sliced at the tough material
of the halter. Fortunately, he kept his knife sharp; the
strands parted. Some fevered sawing severed the section
under the centaur's arm. "Now it is broken; you can lift
it free," he said.

The centaur did just that. In a moment the halter was
off. "That's some knife!" he exclaimed. "I got a sharp-
edged stone once and managed to saw at it without being
observed, but the magic was too strong, and I got no-
where."

"Now we shall ride you out of here," Grey said. "The
water will not affect you as long as you are in contact with
me, so don't be concerned if it splashes out of the cup."
That was literally true: the water would not affect the cen-
taur while in contact—or at any other time. "She will fling
it at any goblin who comes too close. Are you ready?"

The centaur glanced nervously at the cup. "Yes," he
said uncertainly.

It was tricky mounting without letting go of Ivy's hand,
and for the sake of appearances he had to keep holding it.
But the centaur reached back and helped her up, and then
Grey got up behind her.

"Start walking," Grey said. "Slowly, so as not to make
them do anything foolish, until we get away from this
camp.''

"Gotcha," the centaur said. He stepped carefully for-
ward.

"I'm sure you can run very fast when you need to,"
Ivy remarked.

But goblins closed in across the path, lead by a sub-
chief. "I think it's a fake!" the subchief cried. "That wa-
ter's lost its hate!"

Ivy flung the water at the subchief. The goblin tried to
leap back, but the water caught him and also splashed
across several others near him.

The first thing the wetted goblins saw was the ugly faces
of their companions. For an instant they stared. Then they
exploded into violence. The subchief swung his club at




140 Man from Mundania

the one he faced, and two others fell to pummeling each

other.

"Let's get out of here!" Grey said.

"You can do it!" Ivy cried to the centaur. "You're su-
perstrong and fast!"

The centaur needed no urging. He leaped over the near-
est goblins and shot off down the path. The goblin fight
was spreading, and none of the nearest ones were chasing
the centaur. But the more distant ones raised a cry of
alarm. "Get them! They're escaping!"

But it was too late. Even doubly loaded, the centaur
could run faster than the stubby-legged goblins, especially
on the well-beaten path. A few stones flew, but missed.
They had made it to freedom.

Well away from the goblin camp, they left the path.
"We had better find a river and wash off the hate water
on your legs," the centaur said. "Otherwise it will affect
the two of us the moment you stop touching us."

"Not to worry," Grey said. "It's not magic water; that
was Grotesk's bluff."

"But it is, "the centaur insisted. "It made those goblins
fight the moment it touched them!"

"That was psychological. They believed it would affect
them that way, so it did."

"Well, I believe in it!" the centaur said. "I saw it work
more than once, when the chief wanted to discipline some-
one. I want it all off me before you get off me."

Grey shrugged. It made sense for a magical creature to
believe in magic. "Do you know where a suitable river
is?"

"Yes, there's a stream not far from here. It flows into
the Gap."

"The Gap!" Ivy exclaimed. "We're going there!"

"But it's dangerous!" the centaur protested. "The Gap
Dragon runs there!"

"We'd better introduce ourselves," Ivy said. "I'm Prin-
cess Ivy of Castle Roogna."

"Really?" the centaur asked, amazed. "I have heard of
you. You enhance folk."

Man from Mundania

141

"Yes. I helped you run faster and stronger."

"You did indeed! I have never done so well before, even
without a double load. I thought I was just scared! I am
called Donkey."

"What?" Grey asked.

"Because I'm small and gray, and have big ears," he
explained. "The others always teased me, so I preferred
to go out on my own. But then the goblins caught me, and
I had no friends to realize I was missing. Thank you so
much for rescuing me!"

"I'm Grey," Grey said. "Not the color, just the name.
I'm from Mundania."

"But then how can you do magic?"

"I can't. It was all a bluff. That's why I knew the water
wouldn't hurt you."

Donkey considered. "All the same, I'd prefer to wash
it all off. Just to be quite sure. Centaurs don't like to take
avoidable chances."

So they went to the stream. Donkey walked carefully to
the center, then slowly settled down. "Wash it all off be-
fore we separate," the centaur said. "We wouldn't want
to hate each other."

Ivy giggled. "I never took a bath with my clothes on
before!"

"Me neither," Grey agreed.

They splashed water on themselves, remaining in con-
tact with Donkey, letting the current carry away the bad
medicine.

There was a stir in the water downstream. "See, the
fish are fighting," Donkey said. "It's still potent!"

"Coincidence," Grey said. But he wondered. There had
been a number of funny events recently, and not all were
easy to accept.

For one thing, the way those goblins had fought—when
the subchief had expressed his disbelief in the power of
the water. Why, then, had it affected him? Had his dis-
belief been a bluff? Or had he decided to support the sup-
posed power of the water, the way Grotesk did? Or had
he wanted the captives to escape? None of that seemed to
make much sense.




Man from Mundania

142

And the centaur: now that they were relaxing. Grey was
studying the creature. He found no artificial connection
between the man and horse aspects. Donkey seemed to be
exactly what he claimed to be: a living centaur. The river
was not shorting out his circuits. His body was warm. Part
of him was definitely human and part definitely animal.

How could this be, without magic?

"We'd better get undressed so we can rinse out our
clothing thoroughly, then hang it up to dry," Ivy said. "It
is overdue for a washing anyway."

"But—" Grey protested.

"It's all right," she said. "We're betrothed."

"But—"

"And centaurs never wear any clothing anyway," she
continued. "They don't have any concerns about people."
She unbuttoned her blouse and drew it off.

Grey didn't argue further. She was right: they did have
to get washed and hang up their clothing to dry. They were
engaged to be married. It had happened so suddenly that
he still could hardly believe it, but he was not going to
deny it! He didn't care what kind of setting this was or
whether magic was real, it was wonderful being with her.

Soon they were bathing separately. Ivy and Donkey at
last satisfied that the hate water had been washed clear by
the pure stream water. The day was late, now, but they
hung up their clothing to catch the declining rays of sun-
shine. Then he and Ivy sat on a clean patch of grass and
let the sun dry them, too. Donkey didn't need to sit; he
stood in a separate sunbeam, after shaking his body vio-
lently.

Grey tried not to look at Ivy's bare body, but didn't want

to be too obvious about not looking, lest she think she was
ugly. She wasn't; in fact she was his very model of a

teenaged girl.

"Are you sorry?" she inquired.

"Huh?"

"About being betrothed to me?"

"Oh no!" he exclaimed. "I—it's more than I ever hoped
for! I—when you—when I woke before you under the
tangle tree and saw you sleeping, I just had to keep look-


Man from Mundania         143

ing at you, because as wonderful as all this crazy land
may be, you are the craziest and most wonderful thing
that ever happened to me, and I wish it would never end.
I mean—I don't know what I mean, but—"

"You know there is trouble ahead," she reminded him.
"I was resolved to let you go, no matter how much I liked
you, because I knew we couldn't marry. But when you
came for me through that water and didn't hate me, sud-
denly I didn't care anymore what my folks think. My little
brother's got two betrotheds; I'm entitled to one, I think.
But you have to be willing.''

"I'm willing! I just never thought that you'd—I mean
that you were serious—I mean—"

"You don't know what you mean," she repeated for
him. "Are you beginning to believe in magic, a little?"

He looked at the centaur, and still could not explain
him away. "If loving you is believing in magic, then I
believe," he said.

She smiled. "I think I have never had a better compli-
ment!"

"I am amazed that you profess to disbelieve in magic,"
Donkey said. "We centaurs try to maintain a certain dif-
fidence about it, but there is absolutely no doubt of its
validity. Haven't you felt Ivy's Enhancement yourself?"

Grey considered. "I suppose I have, but—"

"You are too full of buts," Ivy said. "Shut up, or I'll
kiss you."

"But—"

She leaned over and kissed him.

Grey shut up.

In the morning they discussed the matter, and decided
to travel together down the river to the Gap Chasm. Don-
key knew the way, and the location of the best trees along
it, while Ivy knew the Gap Dragon, so that they could
enter the chasm safely. None of them cared to remain in
the vicinity of the Goblinate of the Golden Horde, for the
goblins were surely out looking for them and would not
treat them kindly. They agreed that it was best to get on
the other side of the Gap with reasonable dispatch.




144

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

145

Grey had read of the Gap and the Gap Dragon, but
reserved his belief in such things until he actually saw
them. A trench across the state of Florida a mile or so
deep? As he understood it, there wasn't any part of that
state anywhere near that elevation above sea level, so such
a chasm would be impossible even if it were possible!
With a great whomping, steaming, ferocious dragon run-
ning along the bottom? More likely it was a railroad cut
with an old-fashioned steam engine chugging along on its

track.

Some chocolate milkweed pods grew along the river,

and some mushrooms, which turned out to be little rooms
full of mush. Some were commeal mush, and some were
oat mush or wheat mush. They didn't taste like much, but
the chocolate milk provided a bit of flavor. At least they

were filling.

"How do you like it?" Ivy asked.

He could tell by the sparkle in her eyes that she was up
to some mischief, so he answered cautiously. "Mushy stuff

was never my favorite."

"That's what my little brother always said—until he met

Nada."
"Nada?"
"Nada Naga, his betrothed—I told you. But she cured

him in a hurry, and now he loves mush."

"I could use that cure myself," he muttered, still not

seeing her point. "How did she—?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" She stepped to him,
wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him so em-
phatically that his head seemed to float.

"But—" he said when she gave him a chance to breathe.

"Mushy stuff," she explained.

Oh. Grey felt completely stupid; he had walked right
into that one! Yet somehow he wasn't bothered; it was
about as nice an experience as he could imagine.

"Did I embarrass you?" she asked.

"Uh, no, of course not!" he protested immediately.

She glanced at Donkey. "I'm not sure. What do you

think?"

"He's flushing and perhaps stammering," the centaur

said. "I believe it is likely that you did embarrass him,
though he is attempting to deny it."

"That's what I thought." Ivy faced Grey again. "The
brassies know how to handle that."

"The brassies?" Grey tried to remember what the brass
folk had done in the books he had read.

"They apologize," she said. "Do you know how they
apologize?"

"Uh, no, I—"

She hauled him in again and kissed him with even more
authority than before. This time his head seemed not only
to rise, but also to swell to the size of a helium weather
balloon and float across the landscape, buffeted by stray
playful breezes.

From somewhere far away her voice came: "Do you
accept my apology?"

He tried to get back to earth. "Uh—"

Then Donkey's voice: "Evidently the apology was not
sufficient. He seems frozen in place."

Ivy's voice, again: "True. I will simply have to make a
better apology."

Then she kissed him a third time. His head heated and
expanded so rapidly it exploded, and bright fragments of
the balloon fluttered down into the forest below to deco-
rate the trees with seeming flowers. Bees buzzed up to
attend to those flowers, and came away with buckets of
nectar. Oh, the sweetness of that kiss!

"Do you accept my apology?" Ivy asked again.

Grey strove valiantly to get his head back together. "Uh,
yes, sure!" he gasped, finally catching on. He wasn't sure
he could survive the next kiss!

"Alert!" Donkey said. "I hear goblins!"

Suddenly Grey was back in focus. "Let's get out of
here!"

"We'd better do it as we did before," Ivy said briskly.
"I'll enhance you, Donkey, and we'll ride you. That way
we'll leave them behind again."

"Certainly," the centaur agreed.

Ivy scrambled into her pack, and they both scrambled




146 Man from Mundania

onto the centaur's back, and the centaur took off with a
terrific leap just as a goblin burst into view.

"Tallyho!" the goblin cried, and blew on a hom he
carried, alerting the others. The sound was amazingly loud
and vulgar.

"I hate those stink horns," Ivy said as they raced
through the light foliage beside the stream.

The centaur was proceeding vigorously, psychologically
buoyed by Ivy's supposed Enhancement. But the stream
was extremely winding and clogged with rocks and brush,
so full speed was impossible. The goblins were running
along the ground on either side, evidently small enough
to duck under the worst of the obstructions, so were not
falling behind fast enough. "We've out to get well ahead
before we reach the Gap," Ivy said.

"Why, if you know the Gap Dragon?" Grey asked.

"Well, for one thing Stanley isn't likely to be right there
when we arrive. For another—"

"Oops, we're here!" Donkey said, skidding to a halt as
the landscape opened out ahead of them.

"Rats!" Ivy swore. "The gobs are too close!"

"I'll run along the edge," the centaur said, turning
abruptly. "I believe there's a passable descent not far to
the east."

Now Grey got his first clear look at the Gap. Suddenly
he felt dizzy. It was a sheer drop-off hundreds, no thou-
sands of feet down to a bottom shrouded in fog. The
morning sunbeams cut sharply across the cliffs of it, look-
ing like sparkling ramps to the depths. The stream plunged
over the edge and plummeted so far that there was no
sound of its landing. No wonder they needed time to find
a safe way into it!

"Somehow I don't think we're in Florida any more,
Toto," he murmured, awed. How could he explain this in
terms of the close-to-sea-level terrain they had ridden
through on the way to No Name Key?

"What?" Ivy asked over the wind of their motion be-
side that terrifying descent. Her greenish hair was flutter-
ing back in his face.

Man from Mundania

147

"The ramparts of my disbelief have just taken a hit,"
he explained.

"It's about time!"

The goblins burst into view again, trying to cut them
off. But Donkey made a phenomenal leap and sailed over
their heads, and landed running. Again they were left be-
hind. But they did not give up; they charged along the
brink of the great chasm, waving their clubs and throwing
their rocks, which were missing by a less-than-comfortable
margin.

"There it is!" Donkey cried, drawing up before a nar-
row side crack that extended from the major Gap.

Grey looked. There was a little path that crept down
from the crack and found some rubble at the edge of the
main chasm. It did seem to wind on down, but they would
have to go single file, and slowly. The goblins would be
upon them long before they could complete any part of
that tortuous descent.

"There's a great multiflavor pie tree," Ivy said. "I'll
enhance it, and hold them off with pies while you two get
down."

"I'll hold them off," Grey said.

"But you don't believe in the magic!" she protested.
"Those are crabapple pies, pepperpot pies—they can be
really effective, if I—"

"I believe in you," Grey said firmly. "And I'm begin-
ning to wonder about magic. Now just get out of here. If
I can't make a stand to defend the woman I love, what
good am I?"

She looked ready to argue, but the centaur spoke. "He's
right. He can do it. You go down first."

Ivy made her decision. "No, you go first. Donkey. I'll
follow right after I've Enhanced that tree."

Without further word the centaur started down the path.
Sand and pebbles skidded out under his hooves and slid
down the cliffside, but the path held.

Ivy ran to the tree and flung her arms about its trunk.
Grey rubbed his eyes; he could have sworn the pies were
growing, becoming larger and better defined in seconds.

Then Ivy stepped clear. "Follow as soon as you can,"

r

148 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 149

she said. "I'll fetch Stanley, so if you're in doubt, just
keep throwing pies at them." She kissed him fleetingly.
"I'm Enhancing your strength, aim, and endurance. Be-
lieve in me!'' Then she was gone, into the crack.

Believe in her? When she put it that way, he had to!

The goblins were already appearing. Grey looked at the
tree. Now his eyes seemed much more finely attuned; he
recognized every variety of pie. He grabbed a pepperpot
pie whose peppers looked huge.

The first goblin charged up, waving his club. "I'll de-
stroy ya, creep!" the goblin yelled.

Grey calmly threw the pie in his face. The peppers
puffed into powder. The goblin broke into a spasm of
sneezing. He sneezed so hard that his little body flew
backwards into the goblin behind him, and a cloud of pep-
per surrounded them both. Soon several goblins were
sneezing—and several sneezed themselves right off the

brink of the precipice.

Well, now! This seemed to work well enough. The gob-
lins seemed to have used up all their stones, and there
were none nearby for them to pick up. That meant that
they were confined to their clubs, which meant they had
to get close to be effective. Which meant in turn that he
could score on a goblin with a pie before a goblin could
score with a club. There were about thirty goblins, but the
approach was narrow, so that only one could come at him

at a time.

He felt like Horatius at the bridge: the bold Roman gate-
keeper who had held off the attacking Etruscan army while
the Romans chopped down the bridge that was the only
access to the city. One man could indeed hold off an
army—if the army had to send just one man against him
at a time, and he was able to slay that man. But he had to

be good.

Ivy's Enhancement really seemed to have taken, be-
cause he felt phenomenally good. His aim with the first
pie had been perfect, and he felt strength to heave them
much farther if he needed to. He felt like a superman.
Maybe it was the power of love. Goblins, beware!

The goblins completed their sneezing; the cloud of pep-


per had finally dissipated. That one pie seemed to have
taken out about three of them. Maybe it wasn't magic, but
it had worked well enough!

A goblin charged him, club lifted. Grey quickly plucked
a crabapple pie, chose his moment, and hurled it with
uncanny accuracy at the little brute. It smote the nasty
little man right in the face, and the apple fell away—except
for a crab pincer that had fastened on the goblin's ugly
nose.

"Youff!" the goblin cried, spinning around and banging
into the one behind him.

"You sure are crabby!" the other retorted.
"I'll crab you, " the first exclaimed. He ripped the pin-
cer off his nose and thrust it at the other's eye. The pincer
snapped at the eyeball.

"Oh, yeah?" the second exclaimed, swinging at the
first with his club.

There was a melee, in the course of which three more
goblins fell off the edge.

Another goblin charged Grey. Grey plucked a popcorn
pie and hurled it, again with stunning accuracy. He was
amazed at himself; he had never been a hurler like this! If
it wasn't Ivy's Enhancement, what else could account for
it?

The pie struck the goblin on the chest, and the popcorn
popped like a series of tiny firecrackers. Bits of puffed
corn flew into his face and beyond him into the faces of
the ones following. Yet another spot quarrel broke out, as
one goblin blamed his neighbor for the corn and swung
his club. Two more goblins fell off the ledge.

Grey discovered that he liked this type of combat. It
was mainly the goblins' own omeriness that got them
boosted into the chasm. If they just quit coming, no more
would be hurt. He had plenty of pies remaining.

Another goblin charged. Grey picked a pecan pie. Once
more his aim and force were uncanny; he scored on the
goblin's big head before the creature got at all close. The
pie crust clanged like a can, and its contents soaked
the goblin with yellow juice. "Oooo, ugh!" the goblin
cried, outraged. "You peed on me!"




J

Man from Mundama

150

So that was the magic of the pecan! He had assumed it
was a nut pie. Well, he had been wrong. He was glad he

hadn't tried to eat it.

Other goblins charged in turn. He picked other pies and
shoved them in their faces, long distance. He should have
been tired by this time, but he wasn't; his strength was
maintaining just as had that of the centaur. He hurled a
shoe-fly pie, and its shoe kicked the rear of a goblin and
booted the goblin over the edge. He threw a papaya pie,
and it sang "I'm papaya the sailor man!" and whistled as

it slugged the goblin.

At last he was down to two pies, having used all the
rest. Three goblins remained. He knew he couldn't afford
to let even one remain above while he descended the path,
because that one could scuff the sand and perhaps start a
little avalanche that would destroy his route. How could
he be sure of taking out three with only two pies?

Well, he would just have to go hand to hand with the
last one. He glanced at the pies: one was custard, the other
pineapple. Neither looked promising, but they would have

to do.

He picked the custard. "Custard's last stand!" he cried
as he heaved it at the charging goblin.

The custard struck squarely on the ugly face. The gloppy
stuff wrapped itself around the bulbous head and clung
tenaciously. The goblin pawed at it, trying to get his eyes
clear, but before he succeeded he stepped off the cliff and
was gone. Only the fading sound of his cussing remained.

Well, it was a cuss-tard pie,

The last two goblins consisted of the subchief, who had
tried to stop them before, and one henchman. "Charge
him together, and one of us. will get him!" he said.

"But there's no room!"

"Yes, there is, if we charge slowly and carefully and
keep in step." And indeed there was, this way, for the
narrow ledge had been widened by the tramp of the prior
goblins' big feet. The two approached carefully.

Grey was worried. The enemy had finally gotten smart!
He had only the one pie left, and while he could score on
one goblin, the other would be able to charge him from

Man from Mundania        151

close range and perhaps sweep him off the ledge in the
manner of a football blocker. These goblins didn't seem
to care what losses they took, as long as they got him.

Well, he would just have to use what he had. He picked
the pineapple pie and hefted it. He would throw it at the
subchief, who was surely the more cunning and motivated
of the two. Then he would handle the other in whatever
way he could.

"Watch out—that's a pineapple!" the subchief cried.

Both goblins halted. Then they started backing away.

Grey was surprised. Was this a ruse? Were they pre-
tending fear, so that he would relax and then they would
turn on him and catch him off guard? He resolved not to
be drawn out of position.

The two goblins retreated all the way back out of sight.
This was curious indeed! What were they up to? He didn't
dare try to follow them—but if he started down the path,
they could return at any moment and wreak mischief on
his head.

Maybe he could fake them out. He got down on the
path, then squatted, so that he could duck down into the
small crevice. They would think he had started down when
he hadn't; then when they came, he could smite one of
them with the pie.

He waited. Sure enough, soon he heard them returning.
He waited until they sounded close enough, then stood up,
pie ready.

The two goblins were there—but so was another crea-
ture. It looked like a male sheep with horrendously broad
and curled horns.

The subchief spied him. "So it was a trick. Mundane!
You can't fool a cunning goblin. And your pie can't stop
this battering ram!"

The sheep charged, head down. A battering ram! That
certainly could knock him off the edge!

Grey, poised with the pie, decided to ditch it. Maybe
the ram would hurtle right past him if he ducked at the
last moment.

He hurled the pie over the head of the ram, at the two
waiting goblins. It struck the subchief—and detonated.




152

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

153

Juice and pineapple bits exploded outward, and both gob-
lins were blown off the edge.

So that was the pun in pineapple! It was made of gre-
nades! He should have guessed. No wonder the goblins

had been so wary of it.

But his distraction caused him to wait too long. The
battering ram was almost upon him, unstoppable, and he

had no time to dodge it.

"No!" he cried. "It can't end like this!"
The ram set his hooves and skidded to a stop just as

he reached Grey. He was so close that his nose nudged

Grey's nose.

"Why, you're just an ordinary sheep," Grey said, pet-
ting the animal. "You don't mean me any harm, now that
the goblins are gone. Why don't you go off and graze?"

The ram nodded almost as if he understood, and com-
menced browsing on the adjacent foliage. No battering

ram at all!

Now at last it was safe to start down the path. Grey

proceeded.

It turned out to be a tricky descent, but manageable. He

saw the centaur's hoofprints, and now and then Ivy's, so
would have known he was on the right trail, had there been
any doubt. The face of the cliff was awesome, but the path
was secure, and he did not feel the fright of heights he

might have.

He wondered about that. He felt better, and had done

better than he ever would have expected. He had been cool
and poised throughout, and handled the goblins almost
perfectly. Ivy had said she would enhance him, and he did
seem enhanced—but could his love for her account for it?
And those pies—they had acted in ways real pies never
would have. Science would be strained to account for those
effects, but magic had no problem. As for that centaur-
how could anything but magic account for him? There was
such a thing as gene splicing, but it didn't work that way;

a man could not be grafted onto a horse. Not in this cen-
tury!

And of course there was the Gap Chasm he was now
climbing down into. He could not doubt its reality! But

how could he have come to it in the real world? If this
were a mere amusement park setting, how could there be
anything of this sheer scale?

Was he coming to believe in magic after all? Maybe he
was, because Ivy did, and he did love her. If she loved
him enough to marry him, he should love her enough to
share her belief. Maybe that didn't make much objective
sense, but it made a lot of emotional sense.

At last he made it down to the base of the chasm, as
afternoon was setting in. Where had Ivy and Donkey gone?
He knew the answer: Ivy had mounted Donkey, enhanced
him, and he had galloped off indefatigably to locate the
Gap Dragon. It might be a while before they found that
creature.

He looked around. The bottom of the chasm was like a
long, narrow valley, with green grass and a river crossing
it, from the stream they had followed above. He walked
to it and threw himself down for a drink. Beside it grew
some lady slipper plants, with an assortment of delicate
feminine slippers. Farther along was a potato chip bush.
Good—he was hungry, too. He sat down beside it and
started picking and eating the chips.

Magic? If this was magical, yes, he believed in magic.

Now at last he was tired. Whatever reserve of strength
he had drawn on was gone, and he needed to rest. He
leaned against a stone and relaxed.

His eye traced the short course of the river across the
valley cleft. It did not turn to run along the valley, but
continued on up the far cliff in a reverse waterfall, finally
disappearing over the top. That was nice; no sense in
flooding the Gap, in case there was no decent exit for the
water.

His eyes closed. He hoped Ivy and Donkey returned
soon. Certainly it was pointless to go looking for them;

he had to wait right here where they could find him.

Up the cliff? Suddenly he blinked awake, looking again
across the valley. Then he lurched to his feet and followed
the river across.

There was no doubt: the water made a right-angle turn
and sailed upwards in a geyser. It did not fall back to earth




154        Man from Mundania

as a real geyser would; rather it seemed to slow as it neared
the top, and to curve, finding the brink and going beyond
it.

Grey shook his head. Now it was clear: he had better
believe in magic! Otherwise he would believe he was
crazy.

He returned to the rock near the potato chip bush and
settled down again. In a moment he was deep in a snooze.

He woke to the sound of a series of thuds that shook
the ground. Whomp, whomp, WHOMP! He jumped up,
alarmed; he didn't like the sound of that!

Something was definitely coming in the dusk. He saw
steam blowing upward in gusts. That must be the Gap
Dragon—but where was Ivy?

Then Donkey galloped up. "Here he is!" the centaur
cried, spying Grey.

Immediately the dragon veered. It had a horrendous big
head from which the steam puffed regularly, and a long
supple torso—and there, riding the top of one arcing coil,
was Ivy!

The dragon slowed as it came up. Ivy dismounted and
ran across to Grey. "You made it!" she cried as she tack-
led him in a breath-knocking hug. "I was so worried!"

"Uh, nothing to it," Grey said. "I mean, after you
enhanced those pies for me, and enhanced me too, so I
could handle all those goblins—"

She looked at him, her face shining. "You mean you
believe?''

"I guess I do, now. I mean, after what I've seen—"

She kissed him passionately. "Oh, wonderful!" she
exclaimed between kisses. "Now it's perfect!"

Then she introduced him to the dragon: "This is Stan-
ley Steamer, the Gap Dragon," she said, hugging the dra-
gon's horrendous head. The steam stopped for a moment;

the dragon was evidently holding his breath so as not to
bum her. "And Stanley, this is Grey Murphy, my be-
trothed." The dragon acknowledged with a twin jet of
steam through his nostrils; it seemed that any friend of
Ivy's was a friend of his. This was just as well, because

Man from Mundania

155

he had a huge mouthful of teeth, and great claws on every
one of his six feet. This was certainly no creature to run
afoul of!

Then they settled down for the night, because the dark-
ness was closing. The top of the chasm walls remained
bright, but the shadow started below. The dragon curled
around them, and the three piled pillows Ivy found and
lay in the center. It was very nice.

"Yes, the river does flow uphill, here," Ivy explained
in the morning. "It's the only way it can get out of the
Gap. There's another, larger river further east that goes
the opposite way. We could ride one of them up, but that
really isn't safe. So we'll just have to take the tedious
footpath up, near the invisible bridge."
"Invisible bridge?"

She smiled. "I'll show it to you, when we get there! In
fact, we'll cross the Gap on it, because the path up is
really better on the north side. Then we'll be on the en-
chanted path, and on our way to Castle Roogna." But then
she sobered abruptly, looking pensive.
"Is something wrong?" Grey asked.
"Nothing that hasn't been wrong from the outset," she
said enigmatically. "Don't concern yourself about it."
Then she smiled and kissed him, and his attempted con-
cern was dissipated before he could express it.

It did not take long to get to their Gap exit, for Grey
rode Donkey and Ivy rode the dragon. "See—here it is!"
Ivy said, pointing upward. "The bridge!"

Grey looked. There was nothing there. But of course it
was supposed 'to be invisible, so that made sense—he
hoped.

They dismounted. Ivy hugged the dragon farewell. It
was evident that there was a deep and abiding friendship
between this damsel and this dragon. Grey almost felt jeal-
ous of it. He had come so recently on the scene, while
they had been friends, Ivy said, since she was three: four-
teen years!

Then they climbed the path up the side. It was a better
path than the other, and it was possible for them to walk

156 Man from Mundania

side by side in sections of it. Still, it was a long, wearing
climb. This must be a lot like the Grand Canyon!

"Tired?" Ivy asked, and he had to admit he was.

"Not anymore," she said, squeezing his arm. And, in-
deed, he felt new strength. Her Enhancement really did
work! It was easy to appreciate it, now that he believed.

They reached the top, and Ivy led the way to the bridge.
Suddenly she stepped into the air above the chasm. Grey
cried out in alarm, then saw she was standing, not falling.
There really was a bridge there.

Grey and Donkey followed her. The bridge had hand-
rails and was quite secure. When he shut his eyes. Grey
was quite satisfied with its solidity. Only when he opened
his eyes and looked down, down, way far down, did he
get dizzy. So he focused on Ivy, no uncomfortable task,
and walked on across without looking down again.

At the far side Ivy turned back to wave to Stanley, far
below. The dragon responded with a great puff of steam.
Then it was time to follow the magic path to Castle
Roogna.

Chapter 9. Ultimatum

I hey walked along the familiar enchanted path.
Within a day they would reach Castle Roogna, especially
if she Enhanced Donkey again so he could carry them
swiftly. But Ivy intended to spend one more night on the
road, because she was afraid of what would happen when
they arrived.

She saw that Grey and Donkey were tiring, and that was
natural. She had Enhanced them before so that Donkey
could carry them rapidly and Grey could fight off the gob-
lins, but that had to be followed by a period of rest, and
they hadn't had enough.

"There's a nice coven-tree near here," she said brightly.
"Let's camp for the night."

The two were happy to agree. Perhaps they had their
own doubts about the encounter at Castle Roogna.

The coven-tree was off the enchanted path, but was it-
self enchanted to be safe for travelers, and it served as a
way station. Indeed, it served as a place of exile for those
out of favor with Queen Irene; they had to remain there
until she suffered a change of heart, which might not occur
swiftly. Ivy had spent more than one night here when she
pushed her luck too far, and Dolph had often been sent
here for trying to peek into Nada's room at night. He would
change into something small, like a spider, and try to crawl
through a crack, hoping to catch her in Panties. The truth
157




158 Man from Mundania

was that he had seen her without her clothing often enough
before she ever came to Castle Roogna, but now she was
a Guest of the Estate, and he was Underage, so the sight
of her panties was forbidden. Ivy thought the whole busi-
ness was funny, but her mother took it more seriously.

The tree was enormous, with a huge spreading top that
was watertight, and large curling branches that made ex-
cellent supports for pillows. The temperature within its
environment was fairly constant; it cooled some at night
and warmed some by day, but not as much as the outside
forest did. There were numerous fruit and nut trees nearby,
and edible plants such as sugar beets and honey suckles.
It was an excellent place to camp, when a person wasn't
sent here as punishment.

They foraged for supper, then harvested some pillows
and went to niches in the separate branches. No branch
was large enough for two people to use together, unfor-
tunately, but they were very comfortable for single occu-
pancies. By unvoiced common consent they did not talk
about the morrow; it would come too soon.

So it was, on that soon morrow, they arrived in ner-
vously good order at Castle Roogna. Grey and Donkey
were rested and clean, and Ivy had brushed out her hair
with a bottlebrush from a bush as well as she could. Now
what was to happen would happen.

They were expected, of course. Ivy knew that her little
brother would have been tracking her via the Tapestry,
once she entered Xanth proper. It might have taken him a
while to locate her, because she had been out of Xanth for
so long, and he would not have known exactly where to
look, but probably within a day or so he had found her.
Had they not succeeded in getting clear of the goblins on
their own, help would have come.

Why hadn't her parents sent out a party to fetch her in
sooner? Ivy knew why: because they had seen her with
Grey and wanted to study the situation. She had been aware
that someone was probably watching when she teased Grey
and kissed him so ardently; she wanted them to have no
doubt about the nature of her relationship with Grey.

Man from Mundania         159

This was in fact her first truly major act of defiance of
her parents: taking up with a Mundane. It was bound to
send shock waves of scandal reverberating throughout
Castle Roogna and the length and breadth of Xanth. Of
all the mischief she might have gotten into, this was just
about the most treacherous. The Princess and the Mun-
dane! This was going to be no fun session coming up!

Dolph came out to meet them at the bridge over the
moat. He was excruciatingly neatly dressed, and his hair
was freshly combed: a thing seldom seen. "I am glad to
discover you safe. Ivy," he said formally.

"Thank you, Dolph," she said as formally. She turned
to her companions. "This is Donkey Centaur, who helped
me escape a problem with goblins. And this is Grey, my
Betrothed."

"I am so happy to meet you both," Dolph said, ex-
tending his hand to each in turn. Then he leaned close to
Ivy. "Whew! You really did it this time, dummy!" he said
confidentially. "Mom's fuming! If you thought I was in
hot water when I came home with Nada and Electra, wait
till you feel yours!"

"Tough tickle, squirt," she replied in the same low
tone. "You better back me up, if you know what's good
for you!"

He pretended to consider. ' 'Weeeell ..."

"I'll tell Mom about that time you—"

"I know what's good for me!" he agreed hastily.

Then they both laughed. Ivy knew that her little brother
was thrilled to see her with boy-trouble, after his three
years of girl-trouble. There was never any doubt about his
support.

Then Nada and Electra came out, as befitted juvenile
protocol. Both were nicely dressed and mannered, for this
occasion. This was normal for Nada, but not for Electra.

"This is Nada, Princess of the Naga," Ivy said, and
saw both Grey and Donkey take stock as Nada smiled, for
she had become beautiful recently. "And Electra." Elec-
tra was merely cute, to her perpetual annoyance. "My
brother's Betrothees."

160 Man from Mundania

"Which one?" Donkey asked, evidently having missed
this nuance of the situation before.

"Both," Ivy explained. "He hasn't chosen between
them yet." That was an oversimplification, but it would
do for now.

They walked on into the castle. "They're in the throne
room," Dolph said unnecessarily. "You better have your
lines rehearsed before they throw you in the dungeon!"

Ivy did not dignify that remark with a response. She
rehearsed her lines, mentally.

They trekked to the throne room. King Dor and Queen
Irene were there, gravely awaiting them. Their faces were
contrivedly neutral.

Ivy gulped. "Let me do the talking," she whispered to
Grey.

"Fat chance!" the tile she stood on retorted.

Grey looked startled.

"My father's talent," Ivy explained quickly. "Talking
to the inanimate—and having it talk back. And does it ever
talk back! Some of his magic collects where he goes often,
like this doorway."

"Any idiot knows that!" the tile sneered.

"Shut up, you deadwood, or I'11 stomp you!" Ivy whis-
pered fiercely.

"Yeah? I'd like to see you try, pudding-brain!"

Ivy lifted a foot threateningly.

"With a lady slipper?" the tile demanded. "Get on
with you, or I'll blab what color your panties are!"

"Don't you dare!" Ivy snapped furiously.

"I'll stomp it," Grey offered. "I'm wearing thick hard-
soled Mundane shoes."

The tile was abruptly silent.

"I think you have a way with these things," Ivy said,
smiling. Then she squared her shoulders, set her little chin,
and marched on into the throne room. Grey followed, and
Donkey.

Silently they took their places before the two thrones.
Ivy's parents surveyed them for what seemed like half an
eternity. Her father was not a large man—in fact he was
about Grey's size—but was horrendously regal in his crown

Man from Mundania        161

and royal robe. Her mother was stunning with her green
hair and green gown. Ivy had always been secretly jealous
of Irene's generous proportions; Ivy herself was relatively
modestly endowed. But her mother's eyes were narrowed:

a sure sign of mischief.

At last King Dor spoke. "Welcome home, daughter.
Please introduce your companions."

Ivy turned and indicated the centaur. "This is Donkey
Centaur, whom we rescued from the Goblinate of the
Golden Horde, and who in turn protected us from recap-
ture by carrying us clear of that region. I hope he will be
welcome at Castle Roogna."

King Dor focused on Donkey. "Are you of good char-
acter, Donkey?"

"Of course. Your Majesty."

"Then you are welcome here. You may use the orchard
freely, and one of the castle staff will show you the prem-
ises. I shall assign—"

Queen Irene nudged him. He glanced where she indi-
cated. "Perhaps Electra will volunteer for that task." For
Electra was bouncing on her toes, back near the door, her
hand raised eagerly. Of course she wanted to exchange
rides for information. The girl was fifteen, but looked as
young as Dolph and retained her childish ways. She could
be a lot of fun; Donkey would like her.

Ivy swallowed. "And this is Grey of Mundania, my
betrothed.''

There was a distinctly awkward silence. Then Dor's
throne spoke. "Oooo, what a scandal! No princess ever—"

Irene kicked it with the side of her foot, and it shut up.
But there was a low snickering from other artifacts in the
room. The inanimate was enjoying this situation.

"We shall discuss that matter at another time," Irene
said. "Grey, it may be that my daughter has not made her
situation clear to you. Do you understand the problem we
have with Mundanes?"

"Of course he does!" Ivy said quickly. "I told—"

Irene flashed a look at her which had the same effect as
the kick at the throne, for much the same reason. Ivy had
to stand aside.

162        Man from Mundania

' 'Your Majesty, Ivy told me that she was a Princess of
Xanth, a land where magic works," Grey said carefully.

"Did you believe her?" Irene put in.
Grey spread his hands, in the Mundane way he had. "I

believed she believed."
"And you did not?"
"Magic doesn't work in Mundania, Your Majesty."

"You are evading the issue, young man," Irene

snapped.

Grey jumped guiltily. "I, uh, did not believe her."

Dor tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne. ' 'Do

you believe her now?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"So now you want to marry her?" Irene demanded.

"Uh, yes."
Ivy gritted her teeth. How awful that made him look!

"Why?"
Grey was surprised. "Because I love her," he said. "In

spite of her being a princess."

Irene seemed ready to burst. Ivy quailed. "In spite of?"

Irene inquired.

"Well, she told me how complicated it would be, and

really I'd rather, uh, have her all to myself, but she is what
she is and I guess I'll have to live with it."

Both King and Queen stared at him. Ivy closed her eyes.
This was going even worse than she had feared.

"So you consider it a liability to be a princess—or a
queen," Irene said with deceptive calmness. The decora-
tive exotic plants set around the throne room writhed, sen-
sitive to the building storm.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I'm sorry if I have offended you,

but that's the way I see it. I mean, it's such a big respon-
sibility, in such a weird land."

Irene shot a look at Ivy. "Did he ask you to marry him

before or after he believed you were a princess?"

Ivy laughed, embarrassed. "Neither, Mother. I asked

him. Before he believed."

Irene exchanged a glance with her husband. She shook
her head as if bewildered. Then she focused again on Grey.
"There is a great deal more to be decided on this matter,

Man from Mundania        163

and we have not yet come to a decision. But I think it is
safe to say that we like you. Grey of Mundania."
Ivy's mouth dropped open. "Uh, thanks," Grey said.
King Dor stood. "This audience is at an end."

Grey was given a bed in Dolph's room, though there
were chambers free. Ivy didn't protest; she had been afraid
Grey would not be allowed to stay in Castle Roogna.
Probably this was her parent's way of chaperoning one boy
or the other, or both. At any rate, she did not get to see
Grey for a while, but knew he was in good hands.

She went to her room, eager to get properly cleaned up
and changed. She knew that her Mundane clothing was a
poor outfit for a princess, even when clean, and this was
not.

She had hardly entered, when there was a knock. "It's
your father," the door said.

"Let him in," she said, smiling. It was nice to be back
where the parts of the building talked.

The door opened and King Dor entered. Ivy ran to him
and flung herself into his arms. In the formal encounter in
the throne room she had had to be proper and princessly,
and this was back to normal. "Oh, Daddy, I missed you!"

"I think not as much as we missed you," he replied,
hugging her tightly. "When we were unable to trace you,
we realized that you were either in the gourd or in Mun-
dania. When you didn't call in, we knew it wasn't the
gourd. That meant trouble, but there was no way to locate
you, let alone reach you. Your mother was having connip-
tions."

Ivy had to smile at that. Conniptions were nasty little
things that floated in to pester anyone who was severely
upset. They were harmless but messy, and Queen Irene
would have been acutely embarrassed to have them there.

"I was in Mundania, all right," she agreed. "I think
Murphy's Curse interfered with the Heaven Cent again,
and garbled where it sent me. So I went where a Mundane
named Murphy needed a girl, instead of where Good Ma-
gician Humfrey was."

"Murphy? You said his name is Grey."




164 Man from Mundania

"Grey Murphy. Mundanes use two names. He helped
me return to Xanth, and then I brought him in. I knew I
shouldn't, but I liked him."

"He's a nice boy. But you know you can't marry him."

"Where is it written that a Xanthian can't marry a Mun-
dane?" she flared.

"Oh, a Xanth-Mundania union is possible. But the rules
for princesses are more stringent. There would be turmoil
in the kingdom if you became king and were married to a
Mundane."

Ivy sighed. "I know. But maybe Dolph can be king
instead. Or maybe some other Magician will turn up."

"If that happens, you will still be needed as a reserve.
We have too few Magicians and Sorceresses; we must con-
serve every one. So you must maintain your eligibility.
This is part of your responsibility as Princess and a Sor-
ceress. You know that."

Ivy sighed. She did know it. She had been carried away
by her emotion of the moment, and pretended that the
somber realities of her position did not exist, but they did.
"But I can't tell Grey no, after I asked him!"

"You may not need to, once he understands the com-
plete picture."

"Because he will break it off himself," she said.

"Yes. He seems to be a man of integrity and con-
science."

"Yes he is!" she flared. "That's why I love him!"

"I understand how you feel. But you know it isn't
enough."

Ivy nodded soberly. She knew.

King Dor left. But Ivy hardly had time to get cleaned
and changed before her mother showed up. Again there
was the embrace. Then they sat down on the bed for se-
rious woman talk.

"How did it happen?" Irene asked.

"You know how. Mother! First I saw he was decent;

then I saw that he liked me only for myself. You know
how rare that is, here in Xanth!"

"I know, dear. I marked your father for marriage when
I was a child, because of his position. If he hadn't been

Man from Mundania        165

slated to be king some day, neither I nor your Grandma
Iris would have given him a second thought. Then it was
a challenge to land him, of course, but that was excellent
sport."

"I guess it worked out," Ivy said. "But I sort of wanted
to marry for love."

"Oh, there was love. I have always loved your father,
and he loved me, though we sometimes had strange ways
of showing it. But it was his position that enabled it."

"But for me there was no Magician, and anyone else—
well, I just wanted romance, and that's what I found."

"I do understand, dear. But you know it cannot be."

"There has to be a way!" Ivy said, not really believing
it. "Somehow, some way!"

Her mother merely smiled sadly, and left.

Ivy tried to rest, but could not, so she went to Nada's
room. Nada greeted her with a fierce giriish hug. Then
they talked.

"It is an irony," Nada remarked. "I don't love your
brother, but will marry him. You do love Grey, but can't
marry him. If only we could exchange emotions!''

"That wouldn't work," Ivy pointed out. "Grey and
Electra would be left over.''

"And Grey's not a prince," Nada agreed. For Electra
had to marry a prince or die.

"Why do we get into such picklements?" Ivy asked
rhetorically.

"It may be the nature of princesses."

Ivy had to laugh. Nada was just about the best thing
that had happened to her in recent years, because she was
indeed a princess, and Ivy's age, with a perfect under-
standing of all her concerns.

"How did it happen?" Nada inquired after a moment.

"I was stuck there in Mundania, and it was so drear,
and Grey was so nice. I sort of encouraged him, because
I wanted his help, but the more I got to know him the
better I liked him. Then when he helped me return to
Xanth, and he didn't believe in magic or that I was a
princess but still liked me, I just kept liking him more. I
knew it was foolish, but I didn't want to give him up. One

166 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 167

thing led to another." She shrugged. "I guess it sort of
sneaked up on me. Not very romantic, after all."

"It will do," Nada said with a sigh. "My betrothal was
not romantic at all." For it had been a political liaison.

"But I do love him," Ivy said. "And I know my folks
won't let me marry him. Oh, Nada, what am I to do?"

"Elope?" Nada asked.

Ivy stared at her. "Do you think it's possible?"

"Possible, yes. The question is whether it's desirable."

"It would mean alienating my folks. I would never get
to be king."

"But if you don't—"

"I will lose Grey." Ivy considered the alternatives.
"Oh, Nada, I can't give up either my folks or Grey!"

Nada just looked at her, understanding.

In the evening she met Grey for the formal meal. He
was with Dolph, of course, so she couldn't kiss him. They
were on palace rules. She took his arm, and Dolph hooked
up with Nada. Electra seemed satisfied to walk with Don-
key.

"Your brother is most talented," Grey said as they
walked to the dining room. "He has been showing me his
forms, and we have talked."

Ivy made a wry face. "I hope it wasn't too boring."

"No, it was very interesting. He says there is only one
thing to do."

"Don't say it!" Ivy warned. How like her brother, to
blab about the elopement!

Grey shrugged. "Yes, I told him it was foolish. But he
says tomorrow we must all go to your room and verify it
with the Tapestry.''

"Verify?" This sounded odd. Was her brother already
planning an escape route for her?

"He says Donkey and Electra are hot on it, too. They
actually believe it will work."

"They aren't princesses," Ivy remarked dryly.

He glanced at her curiously. "What does that have to
do with it?"

They were in public, so she couldn't answer. Fortu-

nately they were just arriving at the dining room, so she
didn't have to. "I'll explain later," she said.

But in the evening Nada come to see her. "Oh, Ivy,
Electra told me! They could be right!"

"About eloping? You know that's complicated!"

"No, about finding a talent for Grey!"

"Finding a—you mean that's what Grey was talking
about?"

' 'Yes! Dolph thought of it, and he told Electra, and she
told Donkey. Of course a notion doesn't have to make any
sense to thrill Dolph or Electra, but Donkey's a centaur!
If he thinks it's possible, we'd better take notice. If Grey
had a talent, your folks wouldn't be able to oppose your
marriage, because he'd be just as good as anybody else."

Ivy quelled her hope, knowing it would only hurt her
worse if it flew and crashed. "Grey's a Mundane! They
have no magic."

"Donkey says that all assumptions have to be periodi-
cally questioned. For centuries it was thought that centaurs
had no talents, but when they questioned it, they discov-
ered that they did have magic, if they just accepted it. The
centaurs of Centaur Isle still refuse to believe it, but they
are mistaken. So maybe that is also the case with Mun-
danes."

"I don't think so," Ivy said. "Many Mundanes entered
Xanth when Grandpa Trent assumed the throne, and he
checked thoroughly but couldn't find a single magic talent
in any of them. Their children have talents, but not the
original generation. Later he even had me enhance some
of them to see if that would make their talents manifest,
but it didn't. Mundanesjust don't have magic."

"Well, it won't hurt to check," Nada said.

Ivy didn't argue. But she knew it was a hopeless quest.

In the morning, after breakfast, they all piled into Ivy's
room to view the Tapestry: Grey, Dolph, Donkey, Nada,
and Electra. "See, there are some dis, dis—" Dolph
started.

"Discontinuities," Donkey supplied.

"In the record," Dolph continued, excited. "We can't




168

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

169

follow you into the gourd, because the Tapestry doesn't
register dreams. But we can trace your whole trip in Xanth,
if that's okay with you."

"Why not?" Ivy said. "But I really don't see what it
will prove." She suspected that her little brother wanted
to peek at any mushy stuff she might have had with Grey.

"So let's go back to the beginning," Dolph said. "When
you switched places with the giant."

The Tapestry obligingly showed the picture of Girard
Giant, lying with his chin propped on a fist, staring into
the tiny gourd. Then he was gone, and Ivy and Grey stood
where his head had been.

They watched as the two of them made their way out of
the clearing. They saw Grey blunder into the curse bun-s-
and then get rid of them.

"Wasn't that magic?" Dolph demanded. "He nulled
them all! Nobody ever did that before!"

"No such luck," Grey said. "I merely threatened them
with my penknife. If there's any magic, it's in the knife."

The picture on the Tapestry froze, becoming mere col-
ored thread. "A magic knife?" Dolph asked. "We should
look at that."

"How would a Mundane knife be magic?" Donkey
asked.

Grey brought it out. "I pretended it was magic, but that
was a bluff. I didn't believe in magic. See, it is just an
ordinary penknife." He unfolded the little blade.

"We can test it," Dolph said. "Ivy, enhance it."

Ivy took the knife and concentrated on it. Nothing hap-
pened. "I think it's dead," she said. "It's not responding
at all."

"Let me try it," Donkey said. "I have tough hooves,
so have had to use a magic blade to trim them. They've
gotten overgrown since I've been on my own. If this can
cut them, it may be magic."

The centaur held the knife carefully and bent down to
reach his right forehoof, which he set on one of Ivy's
chairs. He carved at the edge of the hoof, which was in-
deed somewhat ragged.

The knife slid across the hoof without cutting in. Don-


key tried again, with greater pressure. This time the blade
dug in, but wouldn't cut; it was lodged in its niche. "No
magic I can fathom," Donkey said.

"Maybe it's not the blade, it's Grey," Dolph said ea-
geriy. "That's what we're trying to prove, you know. See
if Grey can cut your hoof.''

"Let a nonspecialist cut my hoof?" Donkey asked, ap-
palled.

"Just to see if he has magic, Don," Electra said cajol-
ingly.

The centaur yielded. It was evident that the two had
become very close, in the past day. Ivy realized that after
three years playing second to Nada, Electra was delighted
to have a new friend. This did not affect her betrothal to
Dolph, of course; she loved him and would die if she did
not marry him. But in other respects she was an ordinary
gid, with ordinary feelings. Ivy was not as close to her as
she was to Nada, but it was true that Electra brightened
Castle Roogna and was a lot of fun.

Grey took the knife. "You want me to cut a sliver off
your hoof?" he asked uncertainly. "My knife is sharp; it
should be able to do that."

"My hoof is magically hard," Donkey said. "That's
not my talent; my talent is to change the color of my
hooves." He demonstrated, and the brown became green,
then red.

"Oooo!" Ivy and Nada said together, delighted.

"But then how—?" Dolph asked.

"All centaurs have magically hard hooves," Donkey
explained. "It's part of being centaur, like having perfect
aim with the bow and superior intellectual abilities. It
doesn't count as a talent."

"Well, it seems to me that a sharp knife should cut a
hoof," Grey said. "Magic or not. That's the way of knives
and hooves." He put the knife to the hoof and carefully
carved.

A cud of hoof appeared.

"There!" Dolph exclaimed. "He did it! He's magic!"

"No I'm not," Grey said resolutely. "I just know what's
what. I knew this knife would cut that hoof."




170

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

171

"But that knife wouldn't cut for me!" Donkey pro-
tested.

"Because you thought it wouldn't," Grey said. "It was
psychological. You could cut it if you really tried."

Donkey turned grim. Grey had insulted him. But Elec-
tra jumped in. She caught the centaur's arm, getting his
attention, and drew herself close to his ear. "He's Mun-
dane!" she reminded him. "They don't know about man-
ners."

Grey looked up. "Now wait—"

Nada interceded, approaching Grey in much the same
manner. "She means that different things bother different
people. Some of us don't like to be called reptilian; others
don't like to have their integrity questioned."

"Reptilian?" Grey asked, distracted. Indeed, Nada
hardly looked the part; she was wearing the kind of dress
that would have sagged on Ivy, showing contours that
tended to make men stop in their tracks and ponder na-
ture.

Ivy felt a tinge of possessiveness and jealousy. Then she
had another thought, and suppressed it. If Grey could be
distracted by someone like Nada, perhaps it was best that
it happen. It might be better than the present problem.

Donkey stepped back in. "I am sure I misunderstood.
I apologize for mistaking your meaning."

Grey looked at Ivy, alarmed. Ivy remembered the joke
she had played on him, using the brassie mode of apology.
She burst out laughing.

The others looked puzzled. Then Nada caught on.
"Brassies ..." she said. Then, with mischief: "Did I
embarrass you, Grey?"

"No you didn't!" Ivy cried.

After that, they all were laughing. Obviously Grey didn't
want to be hugged and kissed by the centaur, and Ivy
didn't want Nada doing it to him either.

"What I meant," Grey said determinedly when they
settled down again, "was not any questioning of your in-
tegrity, Donkey, but that we all are affected by what we
believe. I could not believe in magic for the longest time,
because it doesn't exist in Mundania. You can not believe

in the sharpness of my knife, because maybe you don't
have experience with Mundane steel. But now that you
have seen it work, you could do the same yourself."

"Let me try it again," Donkey said, a trifle tightly. He
took the knife and carved exactly the way Grey had, hold-
ing the blade more firmly to the hoof.

A similar curl of hoof appeared.

"You see?" Grey said. "No magic, just sharpness and
confidence. You now believe in my knife the way I believe
in magic: tentatively."

"I take your point," Donkey said, relaxing. "May I
borrow this knife? This is an opportunity I should not let
pass by to get my hooves in shape."

"Certainly," Grey said. "But we may have to find a
sharpening stone if it gets dull."

"There's one in the dungeon!" Electra said eagerly.

Dolph frowned. "Do you know what you've done,
Grey? You've just cherry-bombed my proof that you had
magic!"

Grey shrugged. "That's because I don't have magic. We
all know that."

"No we don't!" Dolph insisted. "Let's get on with the
viewing.'' -

The Tapestry resumed its animation. Ivy noted that with
a certain annoyance; her little brother was getting entirely
too good at controlling it. He had to have been watching
it a great deal during her absence.

"So your knife is sharp," Dolph said. "But look how
those curse burrs fall! They don't care about sharpness;

they stick you no matter what. So—"

"Well, I cowed them," Grey said. "They knew I had
the knife and was ready to use it, so they gave up. That
wasn't magic, that was intimidation."

"What?" Dolph asked.

"He scared them," Donkey said, translating as he
carved his hoof.

"Oh." Disgruntled, Dolph returned to the Tapestry.

They watched the episode of the two-lips tree. One
flower kissed Grey, but the others did not. "How about
that?" Dolph asked. "He turned them off!"




172 Man from Mundania

Grey smiled ruefully. "Sure. After the first one got a
taste of me, the others wanted nothing to do with me.
That's not magic, that's B.O."

"That's what?"

"He stunk," Donkey said, translating again.

Ivy and Nada managed to keep straight faces, but a titter
squeezed out through Electra's hands, clapped over her
mouth.

Dolph, oddly, did not find it funny. He returned grimly
to the Tapestry.

The figures in the scene proceeded to the sandy region.
The sandman rose up, assumed the forms of a small ogre,
a holy cow, and a nonenti-tree, then collapsed back into
a mound when Grey touched it.

"See? See?" Dolph cried. "He destroyed it! That's
magic!"

"It was an illusion," Grey said. "When I touched it, it
stopped, as illusions do, no credit to me."

"No credit to you," Dolph agreed, displeased.

The Tapestry figures went to the tangle tree. "It was
sated," Ivy said before Dolph could make a case about its
quiescence.

"Well, I can check that," Dolph said resolutely. The
picture focused on the tree, running backwards. The day
brightened and dimmed, and brightened again, and
dimmed again. "See—no captures," Dolph said. "That
tree hadn't eaten in days! So—"

"It could have been dormant—or sick," Ivy said. "Or
maybe the magic didn't work very well around Grey, be-
cause he was fresh from Mundania. No proof of magic."

Donkey nodded. "It does seem possible. Natives of
Xanth relate well to magic, having experienced it all their
lives, but Mundanes may have a depressive effect. That
won't remain, now that Grey accepts magic."

Dolph buzzed the scene forward until the two of them
were captured by the goblins. "There's Donkey!" Electra
exclaimed.

They watched as Ivy was put on the isle, and then as
Grey waded through the pool to reach her.

Man from Mundania        173

"Isn't that romantic!" Nada breathed as the two em-
braced on the isle.

"That's when we became betrothed," Ivy said, thrilled
again by the sight. "It was no hate spring after all, but I
was so relieved—"

"No hate spring?" Dolph asked. "Let me check."

"Oh, don't waste more time," Ivy said. But the scene
was already revving back. He was really making that old
Tapestry jump! The days and nights flickered by—and
abruptly stopped at a variant of the scene.

"What's that?" Ivy asked.

"Earlier captives," Dolph said. "I made it do a Seek
on that subject. This must be before Donkey was cap-
tured."

"It is," the centaur agreed.

The scene was of the goblins of the Golden Horde,
dragging two captives to the spring. They were elves, male
and female. They were brought before the chief. The Tap-
estry did not make sound, so the words were lost, but it
looked as if the elves were a couple who had been trav-
eling together. They were young, and the man was hand-
some and the maid was pretty, and they stayed close
together. Lovers or newly married, going from one elf elm
to another, perhaps to visit kin. They would have run afoul
of the goblin trails and gotten trapped.

The goblins did the same thing they had done with Ivy
and Grey: they boated the girl to the isle and left her there,
then turned him loose at the edge. The man was in obvious
distress, as was the giri: should he try to cross to her or
leave her? The goblins were gloating, and their big cook
pot was boiling.

The elf decided to call the bluff. He waded into the
water^ crossed—and threw the giri into it. She charged out
and attacked him, while the goblins applauded.

They watched in horror as the two elves fought. There
was no doubt: they now hated each other. Soon the man
held the girl under until she drowned, then charged out of
the pool to attack the goblins. They hurled spears at him,
bringing him down, and dumped his body into the pot.
They used a line with a hook on it to catch her floating

174 Man from Mundania

body and haul it out, then dumped clean water over it to
clear the hate water, and dumped it into another boiling
pot.

The picture faded into a neutral plaid pattern. The six
young folk stared at each other, their eyes and mouths
round with horror. There seemed to be no doubt about it:

the spring was hate.

Grey worked his mouth. "I, uh, it didn't do that to us.
So maybe it worked on the elves because they believed it
would."

"In that case it would have worked on Ivy," Donkey
pointed out.

"No, it didn't work on me because I didn't believe in
it, and then she didn't believe in it."

But the others were uncertain. "I think it's real—and
you had magic to null it," Dolph said.

They discussed it, and found themselves in doubt and
divided. Had Grey used magic to null the hate spring, or
had something else depleted its power? They could not
decide.

In due course the parents were ready to give their ver-
dict. Grey and Ivy stood before them in the throne room,
and King Dor said what he had obviously been coached to
say:

"We can not sanction a marriage between a Princess of
Xanth who is a Sorceress, and a common man who has
no magic. We do not seek to dictate our daughter's choice
of a man to marry, and have no personal objection to the
one she has chosen, who strikes us as a fine young man.
But in the interest of Xanth we must insist that she marry
either a Prince or a man with a significant magic talent.
We therefore deliver this ultimatum: demonstrate that this
man. Grey of Mundania, is either a recognized Prince or
has a magic talent. Until one of these conditions is met,
this marriage will not have our sanction."

Ivy looked at her father, then at Grey. She could neither
defy her parents nor give up her love. She stood there, and
her throat was too choked for her to speak, and the tears
overflowed her eyes and coursed down her cheeks.

Man from Mundania        175

Grey spoke. "I have come to understand a little about
your magic land," he said. Ivy knew with a sick certainty
that he was going to do the decent thing. "I think I could
leam to love it, as I love your daughter. I accept your
ultimatum as fair. Ivy is not a woman, she is a Princess,
and she must do what is best for Xanth. I am neither a
Prince nor a Sorcerer, and can never be either. Therefore
I—"

"Wait!" Dolph cried from behind.

Queen Irene's eyes snapped to him. "This is not your
decision," she said tightly. "You have your own decision
to make."

"But it is my business!" Dolph said rebelliously. "Be-
cause Ivy's my sister and I love her and I think you're
wrong about Grey! I think he has magic, I don't care where
he's from. I want to find that magic!"

Irene glanced at Dor, who shrugged. "Allow me to
point out, son," she said with a certain parental emphasis
that bode ill for his future freedom, "that there is no time
limit on this ultimatum. Grey has as long as he needs to
find magic; it is merely that he may not have our approval
to marry Ivy until he does, any more than you may marry
before you clarify your own situation."

"Yes! So Grey should not break the Betrothal until we
get this straight! I think he has a talent, and I know how
he can find it!"

"If you are referring to the episode of the hate spring,"
Irene said evenly, "the evidence is inconclusive. We have
no way of judging the potency of that spring at the time
they were there. It may have variable potency, depending
on the season or other factors."

"No! I mean he has to have magic, because of the
Heaven Cent!"

Now everyone was interested, even Ivy herself. What
wild notion had her little brother come up with this time?

"The Heaven Cent appears to have been fouled by Mur-
phy's curse," Irene said. "We have noted the alignment
of the names; it is indeed the kind of thing that can happen
when magic goes wrong. The cent will have to be re-




176 Man from Mundania

charged before the search for the Good Magician is re-
sumed."

"I don't think it fouled up," Dolph said. "I think the
cent worked. It sent Ivy to the place she was most needed:

Mundania, where Grey needed her. We thought the Good
Magician needed her most, because of his message to me,
but maybe that wasn't so. Or maybe Grey is supposed to
help find the Good Magician. So he must have the magic
we need to do that!"

Ivy gazed at him, astonished. Dolph's crazy notion
might just be right! She saw that the others were just as
surprised.

"So we should take him to Parnassus to ask the Muse
of History what talent is listed for him," Dolph concluded
triumphantly.

Again Irene exchanged a glance with Dor. Again he
shrugged.

"Grey may go to Parnassus to inquire," Irene said after
a moment. "Certainly we bear him no malice, and stand
ready to facilitate any effort he wishes to make on his
behalf. We shall arrange suitable transportation for him.
But you. Prince Dolph, will remain here. You have not
yet resolved your own dilemma."

"Awwww—"

Irene's hair seemed to turn a darker shade of green.
"Ooo, you've done it now, you impertinent boy!" one of
the thrones said. "You'll never—" Irene's kick cut it off.

But Ivy was looking at Grey for the first time with gen-
uine hope. She would go with him, of course. Maybe the
Muse really did have a talent listed for him! After all, if
the Heaven Cent had not fouled up and this was part of
the good Magician's plan, Grey might indeed . . .

She was not even aware of the termination of the audi-
ence. She was too busy hugging Grey, wild with hope.

Chapter 10. Parnassus

'rey was torn. He loved Ivy and wanted to
stay in this magic land, but knew he didn't qualify. The
decent thing to do was to call it off with Ivy and return to
drear Mudania and the horror of Freshman English. He
knew he didn't have any magic. But now, with Ivy holding
him and Dolph so excited about proving he did have magic,
he found it all too easy to go along. At least it would mean
some more time with her.

What was this Parnassus? There had been some kind of
assignment relating to that in school, but he had just
skimmed over it without comprehension, as usual. Some-
thing Greek, a mountain in Greece, where people went to
see the oracle. That was all he could dredge up.

Ivy set about organizing it. Dolph could not go, but his
two fiancees would: the cute child Electra and the lovely
Nada. That promised to be an interesting trip: Grey and
the three girls.

Next day they started off. It was a good thing he now
believed in magic, because he would have been in trouble
otherwise. Ivy had somehow called in two winged cen-
taurs and a horse with the head and wings of a giant bird,
and these were to be their steeds for the trip.

"But there are four of us," Grey said. "I don't think
it's smart to ride double—not if we're flying."
177




178

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

179

"We won't ride double, exactly," Ivy said. "Nada will
be with me."

"But Nada weighs as much as you do!" he protested.
Indeed, Nada weighed more, and in all the right places.

Ivy just smiled. "Let me introduce you," she said,
leading the way to the new arrivals.

The first was the handsome centaur male, like a mus-
cular man from the waist up, and like a horse below and
behind, with huge wings. This was Cheiron. The second
was Cheiron's mate, Chex, whose long brown hair merged
into her mane, and at whose ample bare breasts Grey tried
not to stare. The third was Xap, a golden yellow hippo-
gryph, Chex's sire, who spoke only in squawks that the
others seemed to understand.

Grey was to ride Cheiron. Ivy rode Xap, and Electra
rode Chex. Nada approached with Ivy—and abruptly be-
came a small snake. Ivy put the snake in a pocket and
mounted. So that was the secret! He had forgotten that
Nada was a naga, a human-serpent crossbreed, able to
assume either form. She had seemed so emphatically hu-
man! She had made herself small so that her weight did
not become a burden, knowing that her friend Ivy would
not let her fall.

Grey looked at Cheiron. "Uh, I've ridden a centaur
before, but not a winged one. Your wings, uh—"

"Sit behind them," Cheiron said. "And hold on tightly.
My magic enables me to fly not by powerful wingstrokes,
but by lightness of body, and you will be lightened too.
You could bounce off if not prepared."

"Uh, yes." He walked to the side, but Cheiron stood
taller than Donkey, and there were no stirrups. How could
he get on?

Chex came up. "I will help you." She reached down,
put her hands under Grey's arms, and lifted him up. He
flailed, surprised, and felt his back brush something soft.
Then he was over Cheiron's back and settling into place.

He leaned forward and got a double handful of mane as
the great wings spread. Suddenly he felt light-headed and
light bodied; indeed it seemed he might bounce off!

Cheiron leaped and pumped his wings, and they were

airborne. Grey felt as if he were floating. There was def-
initely magic operating, but it was good magic.

He looked to the side. There was Xap, flying strongly
with Ivy, his bird's beak seeming to cut right through the
air. Behind him Chex was lifting too, with Electra glee-
fully aboard. With each stroke of the centaur's wings, her
breasts flexed. Now Grey knew what he had brushed as
he was lifted.

Electra saw him looking, and waved. He took the risk
of releasing one handful of mane in order to wave back.
How could he be afraid when the child wasn't?

"It's hard to believe that she's two years older than
Chex," Cheiron remarked, turning his head briefly so that
his words were not lost in the wind.

"What?" Grey asked, confused.

"Ivy and Nada are seventeen. Electra is fifteen. Chex
is thirteen. But our foal Che is now a year old, being
tended by his granddam Chem. It can be awkward to judge
by appearances."

Grey looked again at the pair. Electra remained a child,
and Chex a very mature figure of both horse and woman.
"No offense, but I find that difficult to believe," Grey
said. But now he was remembering something Ivy had said
about that; it had faded from his memory because it was
part of the magic he had not then accepted.

"I thought you would; that is why I mentioned it. Chem
was part of the party that went to find Ivy when she was
lost as a child of three. It was on that journey that Chem
met Xap. There was no male centaur she found suitable,
and Xap as you can see is a fine figure of a creature. So
she bred with him, and in the following year Chex was
birthed."

"I, uh, am surprised that you discuss it so openly,"
Grey said, somewhat at a loss.

"We centaurs are more advanced, and therefore more
discriminating about proprieties than are human folk,"
Cheiron explained. "We treat natural functions as what
they are: natural. We reserve our foibles for what counts:

intellectual application."

"Uh, sure. But Chex—I thought centaurs aged at the




180 Man from Mundanii

same rate as human beings." Now he realized what his
problem was: the same as the one with buxom Nada. Nada
looked and acted too human to be credible as a serpent
until she actually changed, and Chex looked and acted too
mature to be credible as an adolescent. He was coming to
accept magic, intellectually, but there were aspects of it
that his deeper belief still resisted.

"Ordinarily they do. But animals age faster. Since Xap
is an animal, Chex was blessed with the natural conse-
quences of the crossbreeding: wings and faster maturity.
She grew at a rate between that of her two parents, and
reached sexual maturity at age six, rather than age three
or age twelve. Her dam, aware of this, tutored her inten-
sively so that her intellect kept pace. Thus it was that she
was a fit mate for me at age ten, though I was more than
twice her chronological age. For that I am duly grateful,
for winged centaurs are rare."

"Uh, how rare are they?"

"We two, and our foal, are the only ones in Xanth."

Grey had to laugh. "That is rare!" He looked once
more at Chex. "She looks so, so human, uh, in front, it's
still hard to believe she can be so young."

"You will find her young in no respect other than chron-
ological," Cheiron assured him. "It may be more con-
venient for you to think of her as my age, ignoring the
chronology."

"Uh, yes, that seems best." So he really wouldn't have
to make the adjustment that was giving him trouble.

They flew southeast, down toward what on the Florida
map would have been Lake Okeechobee. From this height
he really would not have known this was Xanth instead of
Florida; the trees and fields and lakes seemed similar.

Then he spied a cloud ahead. It did not resemble any
Mundane cloud. It had a puny, angry face. "I've seen that
cloud before!" Grey exclaimed.

"That is Fracto, the worst of clouds," Cheiron said.
"Wherever there is mischief to be done in the air, there
he is to be found. Apparently he tunes in magically. We
shall have to take evasive action before he gets up a
charge.''

Man from Mundcmia         181

"But he was—was in the gourd!" Grey said. "I thought
there was no contact between there and here. I mean, that's
the realm of bad dreams, isn't it?"

"Correct. That would have been the dream Fracto; this
is the real one. Their natures are identical."

The trio angled down toward land. The cloud tried to
extend himself below to intercept them, but was not fast
enough. Fracto could not catch them in the air, and would
have to settle for raining on them.

But the three flying figures did not actually land. They
brushed by the treetops as if searching for a suitable re-
gion—and kept on going. Before the cloud realized it, they
were beyond, and lifting once more into the sky. Fracto
tried to turn about and go after them, but there was a fairly
stiff wind that prevented him. He turned a deep mottled
gray and skulked off, seeking other mischief.

"Serves you right, soggy-bottom!" Electra called back
nastily.

"She has been associating with Grudy Golem," Chei-
ron said. "That is one of his old insults."

Maybe so. But Grey was satisfied with it. He didn't like
Fracto.

By evening they were approaching a feature of the land-
scape that definitely was not part of the Mundane penin-
sula: a mountain. At its jagged peak grew a monstrous
tree, and on the tree perched a mind-bogglingly monstrous
bird.

"Mount Parnassus," Cheiron said unnecessarily. "We
may not fly all the way to it, because the Simurgh does
not appreciate clutter in her airspace. We shall set you
down at the base of the mountain, and wait there for your
return."

They glided to a camping site Xap knew about close to
Parnassus. Ivy brought out the little snake and set it on
the ground, and suddenly Nada was there again, just as
lovely as before. She was nude, but Ivy had her clothes
ready, and in a moment all was in order. There were blan-
ket and pillow bushes nearby, and a beerbarrel tree that
was filled with boot rear. "Oh, I love it!" Electra ex-
claimed.

Man from Mundania

182

Grey remembered Ivy's warning, in the mock Castle
Roogna atop the dream mountain. Did the stuff really
work? He could not resist trying some and finding out for
himself. So while the others settled for water from the
nearby stream, he and Electra drew foaming cups of boot
rear from a spigot set in the bulging trunk.

"Bottom's up!" Electra said, and took a swig. Then
she jumped into the air. "What a boot!"

Grey just didn't believe it. He sipped his own drink,
while Electra waited expectantly.

Nothing happened.

"Maybe you didn't drink enough," she said, disap-
pointed.

Grey tilted the cup and swallowed a big mouthful. There
was no effect. It seemed just like root beer.

"Let me taste yours," Electra said suspiciously.

Grey gave her his cup. She sipped, then drank, and did
not jump. "It's a dud!" she said. "Yours must have gone
flat! Mine gave me a good boot!''

Grey tried hers, but with no effect, and after that it
didn't work for her either. "The whole tree's gone flat!"
she said. "I must have gotten the only sip that was fresh
enough." But she remained perplexed.

They returned to the camp, where the others had gath-
ered a nice collection of fruits, nuts, and bolts. They had
even found a gravy train and a hot potato collection, so
had potatoes and gravy.

The more he experienced of Xanth, the better Grey liked
it. Its ways really were better than those of Mundania,
once he got used to them, even if some, like the boot rear,
were overrated.

They slept individually, with the three four-footed crea-
tures spaced around the outside of the camp, sleeping on
their feet. Grey had a suspicion that Xap the hippogryph
would be aware of any danger, and would deal with it
swiftly. That beak looked wicked!

In the morning, after breakfasting on eggs from an egg-
plant, fried on a hotseat, along with green and orange
juice from nearby greens and oranges, they set out afoot

Man from Mundania        183

for the heights of Mount Parnassus. They had to cross a
stream at its base; rather than risk wading through it, they
located a narrow place and jumped across.

"Now we'll be all right if we can avoid the Python and
the Maenads," Ivy said.

Grey could guess why a python might be awkward, but
the other wasn't clear. "What—?"

"Wild Women," she clarified.

That sounded intriguing, but he knew better than to say
so. "Suppose one of them comes upon us?"

"That depends. Electra can shock the first one, but then
she has to recharge for a day. Nada could become a big
serpent and bite one, but she would be no match for the
Python. I can do a certain amount by judicious Enhance-
ment. I could also use the magic mirror to call home, if
there was time. But of course my snoopy little brother will
be watching us on the Tapestry, and he'll alert someone
if there's trouble. Xap has been here, and could run in to
carry a couple of us away. But he really doesn't like being
limited to the ground. It will probably be best if we get
through without running into any of those creatures. Since
Clio will know we're coming and why, that should be
possible. She wouldn't wish any harm to us."

"Clio?"

"The Muse of History. Weren't you listening when we
planned this trip?"

"Uh, I hadn't caught her name."

Ivy smiled. "I was teasing. Grey. I don't expect you to
know everything about Xanth yet. Not today."

"But just wait till tomorrow!" Electra put in, laughing.

There was a clear path up the mountain. Electra led the
way, full of juvenile energy. Ivy was next, and then Grey,
with Nada bringing up the rear. They all had walking sticks
they had found at the campsite, and these were a great
help, because they walked briskly on their own, hauling
the living folk along.

They came to a fork in the path. Electra halted. "I can't
tell which one is right," she said.

"Let me check," Nada said. She became a long black
snake and slithered up past them. She paused at the fork,




184 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 185

putting her head to one side and then the other, her tongue
flickering in and out. Then she became human again. "The
right one. The left one smells of Maenad, fairly fresh.
Let's move on quickly."

Grey would have liked to loiter, so as to catch a glimpse
of one of the Wild Women. Did they wear clothing? But
the others were evidently alarmed, so he moved along with
them.

The path became steep. Even Electra was breathing
hard. Nada gave her walking stick to Grey and assumed
her natural form: a serpent with her human head, un-
changed except that the hair was shorter. Obviously she
didn't want her hair to drag on the ground. Just as he had
tried without perfect success not to stare at Chex's bare
bosom, and not to stare at Nada's barely clothed contours
in the human state, he now tried not to stare at her incon-
gruous juxtaposition of human and reptilian parts. It was
a good thing he now believed in magic!

He offered the extra walking stick to Ivy, but she de-
clined. "I have enhanced my own endurance," she ex-
plained. Indeed, she looked relatively cool and rested.
Electra was satisfied with her single stick, scrambling ath-
letically over rocks and roots, evidently regarding the
climb as a challenge. So he took a stick in each hand, and
was propelled along by them. It was as if he had a second
set of legs.

The slope of the mountain became almost sheer, but thfr
path cut its ledge cleverly through it, and led them without
mishap to the home of the Muses. This was an ornate
building set into the steep slope, girt by stone columns
and arches and guarded by carved stone creatures. Grey
had learned enough of Xanth to realize that those statues
just might come alive and attack, if intruders misbehaved.

A woman sat in a court in front of the building. She
had a shelf of books beside her desk, and was writing with
the point of a bright feather on the middle section of a
scroll that rolled up above and below.

Ivy stepped forward. "Clio, I presume? May we speak
with you?"

The woman looked up. She was in white, and her curly

hair was verging on the same color at the fringes, but there
was an ageless look of preservation about her. There was
no telling how long she had lived or how much longer she
would live, but a fair guess might be centuries, either way.
"I am. And you would be Ivy. I was aware of your im-
pending visit; I had just not realized that this would be the
day."

"This is Grey, my betrothed from Mundania," Ivy said,
indicating Grey. "And Nada, Princess of the Naga, and
Electra, from maybe nine hundred years ago, both be-
trothed to my little brother."

Clio smiled. "Ah yes, I remember. That's in—which
volume is it? There are so many, I sometimes lose track."

Ivy stepped closer. "Are these the volumes? Maybe I'll
see the title." She peered at the shelf of books. "Isle of
View, Question Quest, The Color of Her—" She was over-
come by a rogue giggle.

"No, dear, those are future volumes," Clio said. "I
have written them, but they haven't yet happened, in your
terms. Look farther to the left."

Ivy looked to the left. "Man From Mundania—hey, does
that have anything to do with—?"

"Of course, dear," Clio replied. "And a fine volume
it is, if I do say so myself. But that is not where—"

"Oh, yes." Ivy looked again. "Heaven Cent, Vale of
the Vole, Golem in the—''

"That's it!" Clio exclaimed. "Now I remember! Heaven
Cent, when Prince Dolph went in search of the Good Ma-
gician Humfrey and got betrothed to two excellent young
women." She smiled at the two girls. "It is so nice to
meet you at last! I've written so much about you!"

Grey, meanwhile, was amazed. Several future volumes
of Xanth history had already been written? And what was
the title that had so titillated Ivy? He sidled closer, so that
he could read the words on the spines of the volumes.

"You mean you already know how it turns out with
us?" Electra asked Clio. "Which one of us married
Dolph?"

"Of course I know!" Clio said. "It is my business to




r

Man from Mundania

186

know. That is certainly an interesting episode, and I envy
the two of you the experience of its resolution."

Grey got his eyes lined up on the titles. It was awkward,
because he was still a bit too far away, and the angle was
bad, but he was just able to piece out the words. Geis of
the Gargoyle, Harpy Thyme—but these weren't the ones

Ivy had seen!

"Do you think you could—I mean—" Electra said.

"Naturally not, dear," Clio said in her kindly fashion.
"If I told you the resolution, it would spoil it for you, and
you wouldn't like that, now would you?"

Grey realized that he was too far to the right. He was
reading titles even farther in the future! But he was head-
ing leftward, and should soon intersect the ones Ivy had
called out. Demons Don't Dream, The Color of Her—ah,
there it was at last! "Panties!" he exclaimed aloud, laugh-
ing.

There was a sudden silence as all the others looked at

him. He felt himself flushing. "Uh, I was just—"

"You really should not be peeking at future titles," Clio
said firmly. "Suppose the news got out? There could be

chaos!"

"I'm, uh, sorry," Grey said, abashed. "I won't tell, if

that helps."

She gazed at him for an uncomfortably long moment.

"There is considerable irony in that statement, do you

realize that?"

Grey spread his hands. "I, uh, no, not exactly."
Clio sighed. "My fault, perhaps; I should not have been
careless with the volumes." She touched the top of the
bookshelf, and the air before the tomes fuzzed and turned
opaque. The open shelf had become a closed shelf, a
wooden panel hiding the books. "Now, Ivy, why is it that
you came? I seem to have lost the thread again."

Ivy seemed for a moment to have lost the thread herself,
but she recovered it promptly. ' 'I want to marry Grey, but
I can't unless we find a magic talent for him, and we think
there's just a chance he might somehow have one, and

surely you know—"

"My dear, my dear!" Clio said. "I can no more tell

Man from Mundania        187

you in advance about Grey's talent than I can tell Nada
and Electra how their triangle with Dolph will turn out! It
would not be ethical, quite apart from the complications
of paradox."

"Oh, Clio!" Ivy said, looking woebegone. "It's so im-
portant to me! I love him, and if—"

Clio raised both hands in a stop gesture. "I understand,
Ivy, believe me I do! But this is a matter of professional
ethics. I can not compromise in this matter, no matter how
much I may wish to. This is a situation you must see
through in your own fashion."

Ivy was crying now. Grey was deeply touched to see
her break down so quickly on this issue, though he under-
stood the Muse's position. He stepped to her and enfolded
her. "She's right. Ivy! We have already seen too much.
We have no right to put her in this position."

"You are a fine young man," Clio said. "Perhaps I can
say this much: it will not be long, now."

"Thank you," Grey said, uncertain what she meant.
He guided Ivy back the way they had come. Nada and
Electra followed, pausing only to thank the Muse individ-
ually for her attention. Soon they were on their way back
down the mountain.

The descent was hardly less arduous than the ascent.
Ivy's tears in due course condensed to sniffles, and then
to mere depression. She had evidently put more hope in
this than she had let on. Grey's mood was hardly better.
To have come so close to an answer, only to have that
hope dashed—

"Are we far enough away?" Electra asked.

Ivy stared at her dully. "For what?" Grey asked.

"To talk."

"Maybe we should get the rest of the way down, before
we relax," Grey said, not certain what she had in mind.

She looked disappointed. "I suppose so. But I'm about
ready to burst!"

Grey looked around. "Oh. Well, there're bushes around.
We could wait while you—"




188        Man from Mundania

She laughed. "Not physically, dope! Mentally! With my
news!"

"Tell us your news when we're clear of Parnassus,"
Nada said. She was in her giri-headed-serpent form, slid-
ing fairly readily down the slope.

They resumed their motion. In due course they reached
the fork in the path. But they had hardly gone beyond it
before there was a clamor from below.

Ivy came to life. "The Maenads!" she exclaimed.
"They're below us!"

"And the Python," Nada said, changing briefly to full
snake form, then back. "I smell them both, now. They
must have crossed the path and smelled our scent."

"We must run!" Ivy said, flustered.

"We're too tired," Nada pointed out. "Even fresh, we
could not go faster than those, monsters."

"Maybe if we split up," Grey suggested. "That might
confuse them, and they might go the wrong way—"

"Which wrong way?" Ivy asked. "If some of us are
each way—"

"I'll decoy them!" Gray said. "You three go back up
the path where your scent already is, and I'll run down
the other and make a noise to attract them.''

"But you don't know the first thing about this moun-
tain!" Ivy protested.

"It's my responsibility," he replied. "I—"

The noise below grew abruptly louder. The Maenads
were rounding a curve and would soon be upon them.

"Go!" Grey cried, pointing to the path they had just
come down. He himself ran down the other.

Ivy and Electra turned and started up. Nada was on the
other side of him; she assumed woman form and started
to step across just as he began running. They collided.

At another time he might have found this event inter-
esting, for Nada was contoured somewhat like soft pil-
lows. But in this rush he was afraid he had hurt her.
"Nada! Are you—"

He broke off, for she had disappeared. Realizing that
she had changed form to avoid falling to the ground, he
ran on. She would join the others, in one form or another,

Man from Mundania        189

and they would hide. All he had to do was decoy the mon-
sters.

He slowed, and glanced back. There was a Wild
Woman! She was indeed naked, with flaring tresses and a
figure suggestive of an hourglass. She was gazing up the
path the others had taken.

"Over here, nymph!" Grey called, waving his arms.

Her head turned, rotating on her shoulders as if mounted
on ball bearings. Now he saw her eyes. They were in-
sanely wild. He had not taken these Wild Women seri-
ously, but those eyes sent a chill through him. This was
no sweet young thing; this was a rabid tigress!

The Maenad launched herself in his direction, uttering
a harsh shriek of hunger. Her legs were beautiful, her
breasts were beautiful, her face was beautiful, but that
shriek was spine-tingling. She opened her mouth, and he
saw her pointed teeth, and saw her tongue flick out the
way Nada's had when she was in serpent form. There
seemed to be candle flames inside her eyeballs. "YUM!"
she screamed, reaching for him with hands whose nails
were like blood-dipped talons.

Grey spun about and resumed his running. But the Wild
Woman was fast; she kept pace. He couldn't draw far
enough ahead of her to get off the path and hide; he had
to keep going. He heard the screams of the other Maenads
farther behind. They sounded just as bloodthirsty.

The path twisted as if trying to make him stumble, but
he ran with the surefootedness of desperation and kept up
speed. He began to leave the Maenad behind. But now his
breath was puffing, and he was tiring rapidly; he had not
been fresh when he started. He could have used a dose of
Ivy's Enhancement!

He had had the bright idea to be the decoy. It had been
the gallant thing to do. But now he was in trouble. How
was he going to get out of this?

Something touched his chest at his breast pocket. He
reached up, thinking it was a snag of a branch—and felt a
tiny snake. Its head was poking out of the pocket.

For an instant he felt shock. Then his fevered mind put
two and two together. "Nada!" he gasped.

190 Man from Mundania

Indeed it was she. Instead of falling to the ground, where
she might have been trodden on, she had evidently clung
to his shirt and slipped into his pocket. In his preoccu-
pation with the Maenads, he had not noticed.

"Sorry I got you into this!" he puffed. "I don't know
where I'm going, but I don't dare stop!"

The snake did not reply, which was perhaps just as well.
At least she understood that it had been an accident.

Despite his tiring, he was leaving the leading Maenad
farther behind. Was she also tiring or merely hanging back
to allow the others of her ilk to catch up? He might have
turned and dealt with one, though he did not like the idea
of striking a lovely bare woman. But he knew he would
have no chance against the pack of them.

But if he got far enough ahead, he could dodge off the
path and hide. They would charge on past, and then he
would return to the path and run the other way. He hoped.
If he went off the path and they winded him, he would be
in deep mud for sure!

He rounded a bend. Suddenly he was charging toward
a pretty spring. Another hate spring? The others had con-
cluded from the evidence of the Tapestry that that one had
been valid, but had somehow lost its potency by the time
he and Ivy reached it. Certainly it had not worked on
them! But there was no guarantee that this one would be
similarly powerless. In fact it might be a love spring. It
glimmered with a pale reddish hue, as if potent with some
kind of magic. Suppose he splashed through it, then saw
a Maenad?

These thoughts flitted through his pulsing brain as he
ran toward it. By the time they had run their course, he
was almost at it. He veered to avoid it, but stumbled; only
by frantic windmilling did he stop himself from pitching
headfirst into the water.

Nada fell from his pocket and splashed into the spring.
Appalled, he watched the little snake thrashing. Should he
reach in and pull her out? Then he would be affected too!

She changed to her human form. She shook the water
from her eyes and looked directly at him. "Hey, hi, hand-
some!" she exclaimed.

Man from Mundania        191

Well, it wasn't a hate spring! "Nada, get out of there!
The Wild Women are coming!"

She hiccuped. "No! You come in! It's nice!"

Was it a love spring? He didn't dare touch it! "Get
out!" he repeated. "If they catch you they'll tear you
apart!"

But she demurred. She sat in the shallow water, her
breasts lifting clear and dripping. Even in this danger, he
was struck by her sex appeal. She might be half serpent,
but she was all woman! "Come in! You'll like it!" she
invited. She hiccuped again. "This wine's wonderful!"

"You're intoxicated!" he exclaimed, catching on.

"No, I'm drunk!" she corrected him. "This must be
the Maenad's wine spring. Pretty soon I'll be raving wild
just like them! What fan!"

Now the Maenads came into sight. They spied Nada in
the wine spring, and screamed with outrage.

There was no help for it. He had to haul her out of there
before the wild woman got their claws on her. He would
just have to resist the intoxicating effect of the water.

Grey waded in. The water was bathwater warm, and felt
somehow soft against his legs as it soaked his trousers.
He reached down to take hold of Nada.

"Oooo, goody!" she exclaimed, reaching up to em-
brace him.

"None of that!" he rapped. "Come on out! We have to
run!" But she was slippery with the wine-water, and his
hands merely slid over her marvelous flesh, stroking
regions they should not.

"Oooo, fan!" she said, wrapping her arms around his
neck and hauling his face in for a wet and sloppy kiss. He
turned his face aside, but that was the least of his prob-
lems.

He couldn't get her out! She was too slippery and too
affectionate. Meanwhile the Wild Women were charging
in; already it was too late to escape them. He would have
to try to fight them.

"Change into your snake form!" he told Nada. "Get
back in my pocket! I'll need both hands free to shove
them away; I can't hold on to you."

192 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 193

"Serpent form?" she asked, still trying to kiss him.

The Maenads came to the pool and circled it. Their eyes
glowed and their teeth glistened and their claws quivered
expectantly. Grey knew the two of them were done for. In
a moment the Wild Women would plunge in from all sides
and tear them apart.

Then he had another desperate notion. "Make it a big
snake! Your biggest and fiercest ever!"

"Big?"

"Huge, gigantic, fierce!" he cried. "To fight the Wild
Women!"

Finally she caught on. "Nasty women!"

"Terrible women! Do it!"

Nada changed. Suddenly he had his arms around a py-
thon that must weigh twice as much as he did. It was
Nada, but horrendous.

She hissed at the Wild Women. They stared, for the
moment startled from their madness. Then their blood lust
returned in force, and they charged into the pool.

And paused. A look of dismay spread across their sev-
eral faces. "Where's wine?" one asked, her words barely
distinguishable.

Several of them scooped up handfuls of the water, tast-
ing it. Their dismay intensified. "Wine gone!" one ex-
claimed in sheerest horror.

"Get out of here, Nada!" Grey said.

Nada undulated to the edge of the pool and out. The
Maenads, distracted, seemed hardly to notice. They were
busy sampling their pool, verifying that its magic was
gone.

Grey waded out, struck by the similarity of this scene
to that of the goblins with their hate spring. Something
strange had happened again, but he couldn't pause to an-
alyze it. He hurried after Nada.

She headed for the deepest forest, moving well despite
her intoxication. Of course it was impossible for her to
stagger or fall, in this form. He plowed into the foliage,
fighting through the branches and leaves. At any moment
the Maenads might recover from their shock and resume
the pursuit!

Nada drew up beside a huge chestnut tree. She stopped
under a large chest of nuts, and resumed human form.
"Now kish me," she invited, extending her arms to him
again.

Grey straight-armed her, gently. "You can't be drunk,"
he said. "That water has lost its potency."

Her eyes widened. "Suddenly I'm sober!" she said.
"How did you do that?"

"I didn't do it!" he protested. "You must have just
thought it was wine, so—"

"Grey, look at me," she said sharply.

He looked into her face. Her eyes were completely clear,
her mouth firm. "I am not drunk now, but believe me, I
was a moment ago. I had lost all perspective. All I thought
of was being with a handsome man. I had conveniently
forgotten that you and I are betrothed to others. I would
never do that, sober. That water intoxicated me instantly,
and that was no illusion. It didn't stop until just now. You
did it, Grey!"

"But I couldn't have! It would take magic, and I have
no magic. You know that."

She cocked her head. "Electra—what was she about to
say to us, there on the path, that was so urgent? She may
look like a child, but she's got a good mind."

"She was full of some news she had, but—"

"I think I know. This experience jogged my memory.
Grey, when Ivy asked the Muse about your talent, she said
that it would not be ethical to tell us about it in advance.
Wasn't that it?"

"Yes, something like that. But what relevance—"

"Think about it. How could she tell us about a nonex-
istent thing?"

Grey froze. "But that must mean—"

"That you do have a talent," she finished. "She
slipped, Grey, and Electra was the only one to catch it.
That's what she was so bursting to tell us! You do have
magic!''

Grey was stunned. "Oh, Nada, I could kiss you!"

"No you don't!" she said firmly. "Not when I'm so-
ber."




194 Man from Mundania

"Uh, I meant that as a figure of—"

She smiled. "I know. Just never forget that I am Ivy's
friend—a good one."

"I never did."

"You never did," she agreed ruefully. "/ did, when
drunk. But this has given us the key. What could your
talent be?"

"Sobering drunk women!" he quipped, laughing, still
not quite believing.

"More than that, I think. You denatured their whole
pool!"

' 'But if that really is a magic spring, I could no more
nullify it all than I could—"

"Nullify the goblins' hate spring," she concluded.

Grey thought about it. "Nullifying magic springs? That
couldn't be, because it did make you drunk."

"Before you got into it. It didn't make you drunk. Once
you applied your will to it—and just now to me—you
countered it, instantly. Magically."

He nodded. "When I set my will to it. But is it possible
that something else changed those springs? Maybe Ivy
dehanced that hate spring; I mean, if she can enhance,
maybe—"

"Ivy wasn't here for the wine spring," she reminded
him. "And don't accuse me of doing it! I have no talent;

my magic is in my nature, changing between my compo-
nent species. Maybe some day the nada will develop tal-
ents, as the centaurs did. No, you did it. Grey. Your talent
must be making magic springs harmless."

"But I'm Mundane! How could I have a,talent?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Grey. But consid-
ering what the Muse said and what happened here, I'm.
pretty sure you do. And that means—"

"I can marry Ivy!" he exclaimed jubilantly.

"Yes. If Queen Irene thought this was a good way of
denying you without actually saying no, she made a mis-
take, because now she can't say no!"

"All we have to do is escape the Wild Women and get
together with Ivy and Electra, and everything's okay," he
said, a trifle ruefully. He knew they weren't safe yet.

Man from Mundania        195

Indeed, a Maenad was coming toward them. The Wild
Women knew where they were but had been too dazed by
the loss of their wine to organize.

"I can change form and slide through the thicket," Nada
said. "But I wouldn't leave you here alone."

"That one coming here doesn't look wild anymore,"
he said. "Maybe they're tame when not drunk."

"Tame Maenads could cost you your marriage, too,"
she said, squinting at the woman's perfect proportions.

"Maybe I can climb a tree, and you can go for help."

"Wild Women can climb."

"Let's just see what she wants. Maybe it's not an ulti-
matum," he said without much confidence.

The Maenad came close. "Magician!" she called. Her
speech was clear, now that she was sober.

Grey was too surprised to speak, but Nada took over.
"What do you want with the Magician?"

"I'm no—" Grey started, but she elbowed him in the
belly.

"We did not know your nature when we pursued you,"
the Maenad said. "We apologize, and beg you to restore
our wine spring. We will do anything you desire.''

"The Magician has all he desires," Nada said, her el-
bow poised to jab him again if he protested. Grey kept his
mouth shut.

The Wild Woman looked at Nada's bare form apprais-
ingly. "Indeed we can see that, serpent-woman. But if
there is anything else he desires—food, an honor guard,
servants—"

Nada considered. "The Magician was only visiting Par-
nassus. He has no need of your services. I will try to
prevail on him to restore your wine spring, but I can not
guarantee success. The best I can promise is that if you
do not annoy him further, he will not do anything worse
to you. If he is so inclined, he may see to your pool."

The woman fell to her knees. "Oh, thank you, thank
you! We are but shadows without our wine! We would be
unable to fight the Python."

Nada nodded. "The Python. Is he near?"

' 'He was following us up the path before we caught your







196

Man from Mundania

Mem from Mundania

197

scent. He must have taken the other fork, for there was

the scent of live girls there."

Both Grey and Nada jumped. The dread Python—going

after Ivy and Electra?

"We must be on our way," Nada said. She turned her
face to Grey. "Magician, if you will at least consider their

wine spring—"

Grey was uneasy about this deception, but realized that
she was trying to get them out of this without having to
fight. "Very well, serpent-girl," he said gruffly.

They drew themselves out of the tangled brush and fol-
lowed the unwild woman back to the spring. "Under-
stand, if the Magician restores your wine, and you then
get drunk and wild and become troublesome to him, I can
not be responsible for his temper," Nada warned them.

"We will stay far away from him!" the women prom-
ised in chorus.

Grey stepped up to the spring. If he really had dena-
tured it, then he should be able to restore it. If he had not
been the one responsible for what had happened, then he
hoped that whatever was responsible would play along.

How should he go about this? Well, if it had been his
will that did it to this pool and the hate spring, maybe his
will could restore it. So he concentrated on the water,
which was now quite clear. He willed for it to be restored,
and for the pale rose color to return, since that was evi-
dently the signal of its potency. Be wine again!

Was there a flicker of something? He squatted and
touched the water with one finger, willing the color to

intensify.

Immediately the water turned a rich red.
Alarmed, he straightened up and stepped back. What
had he done? That was too much color!

A Maenad scooped up a palmful of water and sipped it.
Her eyes went round. "Blood!" she exclaimed.
Oops! Grey looked at Nada with dismay.
"Blood?" another Wild Woman asked. Then several
more scooped up sips. "Blood!" they agreed. "Blood-
flavored wine!"
Grey edged back. If they could get a running start—

' 'Oh thank you, Magician!'' the Maenad spokesnymph
exclaimed. "This is so much better than before! Now we
can satisfy both our thirsts at once!"

"Quite all right," he said benignly. Then Nada took his
arm, and they walked back down the path.

The Maenads, jubilant, clustered around the pool, guz-
zling the water as if there were no tomorrow. They paid
no further attention, to the two visitors.

Grey was almost floating, not because of their escape
but because of this vindication of his magic. He had tried
to turn the pool pink, and when that was slow he had tried
for full red—and with his touch it had gone all the way!
No one else could have known what he was thinking, so
it had to have been his own effort. His own magic. He did
have magic!

But the riddle remained: how could he have a magic
talent when he was Mundane? Everyone agreed that no
Mundane had magic. Could everyone be wrong?

"We had better get back to Ivy and Electra," Nada
said. "I don't like the sound of that Python going after
them!"

The Python! Grey was tired, but that abruptly passed.
"I'll run! You get small and get into my pocket! We've
got to get there as fast as we can!"

"Right you are. Magician!" she agreed with a wan
smile. She held his hand, leaned over his arm (oh, that
body!), and became a snake spread across his hand and
forearm. He lifted her to the breast pocket. Then he began
to run.

He had no idea what he would do if he encountered the
Python. He just knew he had to get there before Ivy did.

Then, abruptly, he stopped. How could he be sure of
finding Ivy and Electra quickly? He had only a vague no-
tion of the layout of this mountain and its bypaths, and
Nada had no better knowledge. They could blunder about
for hours while the Python caught and gobbled the girls!

Nada's snake head poked out of his pocket, question-
ingly. "We need a guide," he said. "Someone who knows
every wrinkle of this mountain, so we can go directly to




Man from Mundania        199

198        Man from Mundania

the most likely place, and get around the Python if we

have to."

The snake head nodded, but without full conviction. He

knew why: where could they get such a guide on such

short notice?

The answer was obvious: one of the Maenads.
Grey turned about and marched back to the blood-wine

spring. "Ahem."

The clustered Maenads jumped. "Oh, Magician, don't
change your mind!" the spokesnymph cried. "We have
done nothing more to annoy you!"

"I want a guide," Grey said. "Someone who knows

this mountain perfectly."

"We all know it, Magician! If this is your demand, we
must accede. Choose one of us to serve." And the Mae-
nads lined up, setting their jaws, each obviously hoping

he would not choose her.

This was no good! He needed a willing one, who would
do her honest best. "Ah, er, a volunteer. Someone who
wants to do it, to help me find my friends."

They burst into cruel laughter. "Magician, none of us
want to help anyone! We are wild, bloodthirsty women!
We are tame only for the brief time it takes to lure an
unwary man close enough for the pounce, when he takes
us for succubi." There was more laughter; they found such

an error hilarious.

This wasn't getting anywhere. If he pushed his luck,
they might forget their fear of him, and that could be awk-
ward. But he still needed that guide.

"Well, er, maybe if one of you can pretend to be tame
for this one task, in return for an, er, reward." He didn't
know what reward he could sincerely offer, but was sure
that none of them would do it unless either threatened or

rewarded generously.

"Help someone for hours?" the spokesnymph de-
manded. "Impossible!"

But one Maenad came forward. "I—I might."
The spokesnymph shot her a withering glance. "That's
right, Mae! You're always the last to rip out a gobbet of
flesh. It's almost as if you don't really like hurting folk!"

"That's a lie!" Mae cried fiercely. But her attitude sug-
gested that it wasn't. It seemed there were misfits even
among the Wild Women.

"Very well," Grey said briskly. "Come along, Mae.
Can you smell the trail of a normal woman?"

"Yes, very well," Mae agreed.

"Then sniff out the trail of the two young women who
were with us before. We want to reach them before the
Python does."

"They took the other fork," Mae said. She set off at a
run, her bare bottom twinkling.

Grey watched for a moment. Then the snake wriggled
in his pocket, reminding him that he was not here to watch
twinkling bottoms. Embarrassed, he lurched into his own
run, following Mae.




Chapter 11 • Python

•vy hated to see Grey go, but the Maenads were
coming and there was no time to argue. She saw him col-
lide with Nada, and Nada changed into her snake form
and disappeared, apparently hanging onto him. Well, at
least he would have competent help? She dreaded what
would happen to him alone.

Electra was already running up the path, her walking
stick jumping. Ivy enhanced her own stick, and it practi-
cally propelled her along the same route. If only their party
hadn't gotten divided, maybe they all could have hidden!

It worked: the Wild Women went charging up the other
fork, attracted by Grey's foolish yelling. But now what was
he going to do? He didn't have the first notion about sur-
vival in Xanth!

She remembered the magic mirror. But she had as-
sumed that she would be in the middle of whatever trouble
occurred. If she used it, she would have to explain that
the one in trouble was somewhere else, and by the time
help got there, it might well be too late. Oh, what an awful

pass this was!

"Nada will help him!" Electra said, divining Ivy's con-
cern. "She can become a pretty big serpent and hold them
off. And Grey—there's something about him."

"I had noticed," Ivy said, smiling briefly. Electra was

200

Man from Mundania

201

right: Grey had gotten through some phenomenal scrapes,
such as with the goblins, despite his ignorance of magic.

"And he has a talent!"

Ivy paused. "What?"

"The Muse—she said she couldn't tell us about his tal-
ent, but it wouldn't be long before we knew. That means
he does have one!"

Ivy was amazed. "Why—so she did! But what could it
be?"

"Maybe something he needs right now, 'cause she
didn't say he was going to be in real trouble. Maybe he
can make Wild Women fall in love with him—"
"That's very reassuring," Ivy said sourly.
Electra was embarrassed. "I mean, maybe, that is,
he would not love them—who would love a Maenad?—but
if they—well, maybe something else, like turning into a
dragon."

"Maybe." Ivy felt light-headed, thinking about the
prospect of a talent for Grey. That meant they could marry!

They stopped climbing, as it was obvious that the Mae-
nads were not coming this way. Grey's ploy had worked,
but now it was hard to know what to do. If they went back
too soon they might run into the Maenads, but if they
waited too long and Grey needed help—oh, this was aw-
ful!

Then their problem was solved, in a worse way. They
heard a quiet rustling down the trail. Something was com-
ing up, and it didn't sound like Grey.

In a moment the huge head of a monstrous serpent
rounded a turn. It was the Phython!

"Run!" Ivy cried.

But the great baleful eyes of the creature caught them
both before they could act. They stood transfixed, unable
to move or even to speak.

The head was so big that the jaws could take in either
one of them without difficulty. The sinuous body was ob-
viously able to digest them. They were this serpent's prey!

"Aaaah, young women!" the Python hissed, seeming
to speak. "My favorite repast! But first you must worship

202 Man from Mundania

me. Bow down before me, grovel low, humble yourselves
before the horrendous maleness I am!"

This was awful! But somehow the infinite menace of the
Python was mitigated by an almost infinite appeal. She
was terrified, yet a part of her also desired to be consumed
by this monster. Thus it was not merely the magic mes-
merism of the reptilian gaze that held her; it was the weak-
ening of her will to resist. What a horror, to know what
was to happen yet not want to fight it!

"Down!" the Python hissed. "Bow down, tasty mor-
sels! I require my homage before I feed!"

Dutifully they got down, still held by that sinister gaze.
But Electra was a little ahead of Ivy, and her body mo-
mentarily interfered with Ivy's line of sight to the eye of
the Python.

Suddenly she was free of the awful compulsion. Now
she was revolted. How could she ever have desired any
part of that disgusting reptile?

But Electra was still under the spell. Ivy scrambled for-
ward, shielding her eyes against the gaze, and threw her
body down before the girl's face, interrupting her line of
sight too. The Python was like a hypnogourd, completely
captivating those who met his gaze but losing power the
moment the contact was broken.

But it was too late. The gigantic jaws were hinging open,
and in a moment one or both of them would be snapped
up. The Python did not need to mesmerize them the whole
time, only long enough for him to get within striking
range. He was within it now.

"Shock him!" Ivy whispered, putting her hand on Elec-
tra's arm. "I'll Enhance you!"

The head plunged down, the daggeriike teeth leading.
Both girls rolled to the side, and the jaws snapped closed
just beside them. "Now!" Ivy cried, hanging onto Elec-
tra's arm.

Electra flung her free arm across and smote the Python
on the side of his massive snout. The blow itself was
laughable; she might as well have struck the trunk of a
tree. But it was charged with all the electric power of her
magic talent—enhanced by Ivy's own talent.

Man from Mundania

203

There was a jolt so strong that even its backlash stunned
Ivy for a moment. The Python stiffened, then collapsed,
his head drooping to the path beside them, his latter coils
writhing without direction. Electra's shock had knocked
him out.

Ivy sat up, her senses reeling. She discovered she didn't
really like such close calls. "Come on, 'Lectra—we've got
to get away before he recovers."

Indeed, the head was showing signs of animation. The
monster was so big and tough that even that terrible shock
was enough to set him back only briefly. Ivy thought fleet-
ingly of trying to bash the Python with a stone, but real-
ized that her strength, even if she Enhanced it, would
barely be enough to dent the giant skull. It was safer to
flee.

They got up, wobbly on their feet. The path below was
blocked by the thrashing length of the reptile; they would
have to go back up. But soon he would follow them, and
this time they would not be able to shock it, for Electra
was depleted. She was no Sorceress; she could not exer-
cise her talent twice in one day. Ivy herself had no limit,
but what point would there be in enhancing the Python?
That would only make him worse!

"We can't outrun him!" Electra gasped. "We'll never
make it to the top!''

Ivy had to agree. "We must find a safe way off the path,
where he can't follow or at least will be too slow to catch
us." She did not voice her private doubts about their abil-
ity to find any such way.

They stumbled on, holding hands so that Ivy could en-
hance Electra's stamina. And there, beside a nettlebush,
was a contorted little path departing from the main one.
They had not noticed it before.

"But the nettle!" Electra protested. "It will hurt us!"

"Let me at it," Ivy said. She stood before the bush,
thinking how pretty it was, and how decorative its spines
were, more bluff than substance, and how such bushes
never did really sting nice girls, only mean serpents. The
bush became prettier, its sharp edges softening. She
touched a leaf, cautiously, and it did not sting her.

204 Man from Mundania

She brushed by the bush, and Electra followed, trusting
Ivy's talent. The nettle did not sting her either.

Then Ivy addressed the bush again, silently. Now she
concentrated exclusively on its detestation of all things
reptilian, especially monstrous Pythons. It would sting any
such creature viciously!

They walked on down the path, no longer feeling the
urgency of panic, but not delaying either. They needed to
get somewhere safe before the Python found a way to get
past the bush.

The path was evidently little used, but Ivy sensed some
enchantment on it. She enhanced this, and the path be-
came clearer, with some protective magic. Someone must
have used it regularly, once, to visit the Muses.

"Who else lives on Parnassus?" Ivy asked. It was
something she knew she ordinarily could remember, but
in her present state she couldn't recall all the details.

Electra considered. "Gee, I don't really know. There's
the Simurgh on the Tree of Seeds at the top, and the Py-
thon and the Wild Women."

"And the Tree of Immortality on the other peak," Ivy
added. "But this path's going down, so it must be to some-
where else. I just want to be sure it's better than what
we're hiding from."

"Anything's better than that horrible monster!" Electra
exclaimed. "I mean, I suppose it's pretty bad getting eaten,
but that awful gaze—somehow I knew that what the Py-
thon planned was worse than eating."

Ivy shuddered reminiscently. "I hate to say it, but if
that thing fights with the Maenads, I favor the Wild
Women. But this path—there's something about it I don't
understand. I wonder if we should follow it any farther."

"Well, if the Python doesn't follow—"

There was a crash above, as of a bush getting ripped
out of the ground, nettles and all.

Wordlessly, they resumed their flight down the path.

Abruptly it debouched in a valley hollowed from the
side of the mountain. Huge stone ruins stood there, the
remains of some vast ancient temple. Rounded columns
reached toward the sky, the roof they once supported gone.

Man from Mundania

205

Sunlight angled across the stones, making the scene totally
bright and stark.

"What is this?" Electra asked, stepping onto the stone
platform that must once have been a beautiful floor.

Before Ivy could answer, a robed, bearded old man ap-
peared from behind a ruined wall. "Pythia!" he ex-
claimed. "Just in time!"

"What?" Electra asked.

"You are the new priestesses. It was foretold you would
come, but we were afraid it would be too late. Come this
way!"

"But we aren't priestesses!" Ivy protested. "We are
merely innocent maidens who—"

"Of course. We shall have to clean you up, and you can
serve immediately.''

"We're tired and hungry," Electra said. "We have no
intention of—"

"We have excellent food and drink for you."

Ivy exchanged half a glance with Electra. They were
both hungry. They decided to hold their protest until after
they had eaten.

Part of the ancient temple remained roofed. Here there
were several chambers, and there really was good food.
The girls feasted gluttonously on hayberry longcake and
ice chocolate drinks. A quiet old woman brought a basin
of water and sponges and cleaned them off while they were
eating, then presented them with rather pretty white robes
to don in place of their soiled and torn clothing.

Without even quite paying attention, they found them-
selves garbed like, well, priestesses, with pretty diadems
on their heads and sylphlike gowns. Ivy was surprised to
see how pretty Electra looked. "You're growing up, 'Lec-
tra!" Ivy remarked appreciatively.

Electra grimaced. "I'm in no hurry. All too soon after
I come of age, so will Dolph, and then he'll have to
choose, and then—"

Ivy knew why she didn't finish. They both knew that
Dolph would choose Nada to marry, and then Electra
would die. She was safe only as long as she remained
betrothed to Prince Dolph; when that ended, her nine hun-

206 Man from Mundania

dred or so years would catch up with her, and she would
shrivel into extinction. Unless they found some way around
the dilemma.

"Hark, the Client is arriving," the original old man
announced. "We had better use the older one first. Do
either of you have any idea how this is done?''

"No!" Ivy and Electra said together, resuming their
nervousness about the proceedings.

"Excellent! Have either of you ever had relations with
a man?"

"We are both betrothed," Ivy said a bit stiffly.
"What—"

The man was taken aback. "But you are so young! We
require virgins. Why didn't you tell us this before?"

"You didn't ask, dodo!" Electra said with her usual
asperity. "Anyway, who said we're not—"

Ivy tried to caution her, but was too late, as was usually
the case when dealing with Electra.

"Ah, so you haven't been with a man!" he exclaimed.

"What difference does it make?" Ivy demanded. She
had heard of virgin sacrifices and didn't like the sound of
this at all.

"Only truly innocent young girls can serve as Pythia,"
he explained. "That way we can be sure their words are
uncorrupted."

"Uncorrupted?" Ivy still didn't like this, and now
Electra was catching on, and keeping silent.

"The Pythia must sit on the tripod and speak in tongues
for the Client. This is the manner of our oracles."

Oracles! Now Ivy remembered something. "They make
predictions!" she said.

"Certainly. The very best predictions. That is why Cli-
ents come here."

So they weren't to be sacrificed or ravished. Still, there
was too much in doubt. "What happened to the Pythia
you had before?"

"After too many years they grow up and get married,"
the man said. "Then they lose their innocence and are
useless for this work. We have been looking for replace-
ments for some time. You two should do very well, and it

Man from Mundania

207

is an easy life between predictions. You have no other
work to do, and will be well fed and clothed, and of course
never molested. All you have to do is answer the questions
of the Clients."

"Suppose we don't know the answers?"

"That is why you sit above the magic cleft. The answers
are always provided. You will have no difficulty."

"Suppose we'd rather go home?"

He looked blank. "No girl wants to go home after qual-
ifying for this elite position!"

Ivy exchanged the other half of her earlier glance with
Electra. It didn't seem wise to make too much of an issue
at the moment. For one thing, they didn't know where the
Python was. Once they understood the situation better,
they could see about getting away.

So Ivy went out to the tripod, and Electra stood on the
sideline. The Client was there: a centaur from Centaur
Isle, handsome and haughty. She could tell his origin by
his quiver of arrows: the Isle centaurs had the very best
equipment, and their arrows were feathered with a design
that was reserved for them alone. Indeed, non-Isle cen-
taurs could not use those arrows; their heft and balance
and flying properties differed in subtle ways, so that only
true Islers could fire them accurately.

The tripod was perched over a deep dark crevice in the
stone. That made Ivy nervous; she could not fathom its
depth, and heard a faint hissing far down. There was also
a warm updraft issuing from it with a peculiar odor. It
made the hair on the back of her neck tingle.

But this was the place, and this was the job—until she
could get out of the center of attention and see about get-
ting herself and Electra away from here. She had not told
these oracle folk that she was a princess, fearing that would
only make them more eager to keep her. She just wanted
to get along, for now.

She took her seat on the tripod. Now the updraft caught
her filmy white robe, lifting it, exposing her legs. She
tried to hold the cloth down, but this was futile; there was
too much air. Fortunately the skirt was not full circle; it
rose until it formed a bell shape, and stopped there.

208 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 209

She remembered the mouthy tile at Castle Roogna that
had threatened to tell the color of her panties until Grey
shut it up with his hard-heeled Mundane shoe. Was there
something down in this crevice, gazing up? She had not
much liked this business to begin with; now she was com-
ing to hate it. Her panties were her own business!

The centaur approached. "Ask your question," the old
man said.

"0 Pythia, I am Centurion Centaur. What is the state
of my magic?"

Oops! Ivy knew that was an exceedingly awkward ques-
tion. The centaurs of Centaur Isle did not believe in magic
talents for themselves; they regarded a talent as fit only
for the lower classes, such as human beings. The mainland
centaurs were more liberal and accepted their talents, but
this was not yet the case with the Islers. What could she
say? The chances were that this centaur did have a talent
but would prefer to die rather than acknowledge it, and if
it became known he would be exiled from the Isle. So he
had nothing to gain by the truth. Should she lie and say
he had none, thus satisfying him and securing his future
with his kind? But even though this oracle business was
none of her desire, how could she bring herself to lie?
Thus neither the truth nor the lie was acceptable.

She sat frozen, unable to speak. No wonder the propri-
etors preferred completely innocent girls! No one who was
aware of the trap of this office would accept the job! Even
if she took the expedient course and lied, suppose later
his talent manifested and her oracle was thus proven
wrong? That would discredit the whole business, and
somehow she knew that was no good outcome either.

Then the air wafting from below turned hot, and in-
creased its motion. It pushed on her flaring skirt so hard
she was half afraid she would be lifted into the air. Her
legs were stinging. The fumes became choking; she
coughed and tried to hold her breath but could not. She
inhaled, and the foul stuff flooded her lungs.

Her chest burned, and her head became light. She felt
dizzy. Indeed she seemed to be floating now, though she
hadn't moved. The stone beneath her seemed to turn trans-
lucent, so that she could see through it, down to dim
shapes of goblins and demons far below, going about their
noxious business. The air around her seemed to be going
the opposite way, turning thick, opaque, as if a monstrous
fog were solidifying around her.

"Let me out of here!" she screamed. But only gibber-
ish came out of her mouth, as if she were speaking Mun-
danian.

Then hands were pulling her off the stool. She flailed,
trying to fight them off, but they wrestled her away from
the crevice and its blasting fumes.

"What did she say?" the Centurion demanded.

"She spoke in tongues," the old man explained. "We
must interpret it for you. A moment while we consult."

"Be quick about it," the centaur said with the natural
arrogance of his kind. "The matter is important."

The old man stepped aside to talk privately with the two
old women who operated the premises. They talked for
some time, waving their arms animatedly.

Meanwhile Ivy was coming out of her delirium. The fog
was lifting and the ground was turning solid again. "Are
you all right?" Electra asked anxiously. "You looked aw-
ful on that tripod!"

"The fumes choked me!" Ivy explained. "I tried to call
for help, but it came out gibberish."

"You mean that's what you cried out? It wasn't a proph-
ecy?"

"It certainly wasn't! I had no idea what to say."

"But they are—"

"I know. I think it's all a big—"

She broke off, spying something awful. The Python was
sliding onto the stone floor!

Electra saw him too. "He caught up!" she exclaimed.
"He found us! Don't look at his eyes!"

They retreated from the monster reptile. They ran to-
ward the proprietors. "The Python! The Python!" Ivy
cried to them.

The old man looked up. "Of course. He is your guard-
ian, Pythia. He protects the premises from molestation."

"But he's going to eat us!"




210 Man from Mundania

"Nonsense. He eats^only intruders, not priestesses."
The man returned to his animated consultation.

Meanwhile the Python was still coming after them. "He
doesn't know we became priestesses!" Electra said. "He
knows we came from the mountain path!"

"Maybe the centaur—" Ivy said.

They ran to the waiting centaur. "That serpent is after
us!" Ivy told him.

"But I haven't had my answer yet," Centurion said,

annoyed.

"And you may not get it, if I get eaten!" Ivy retorted.

"Here, here, this won't do!" he said. Suddenly his bow
was off his shoulder and in his hands, an arrow nocked.
"Withdraw, Monster, or it will be the worse for you!"

But the Python merely elevated his snoot and came on.

The bow twanged. An arrow appeared in the reptile's
nose. "That was a warning shot," Centurion said. "I have
ninety-nine more arrows. The next one will be in the eye.
Back off. Monster."

Ivy had always known that centaurs were brave and
skilled warriors, but she was amazed even so. This one
had no awe at all of the Python, and it was evident that
he could fire an arrow exactly where he wanted.

But now the proprietors realized what was happening.
"Don't shoot at the Python!" the old man cried. "He's
our guardian!"

' 'He will be a blind one if he slithers one more slither
forward!" Centurion retorted.

Meanwhile the Python, evidently stung by the barb,
paused. He oriented an eye to fix on the centaur—but dis-
covered the flinty point of the next arrow aimed directly
at the pupil. If the Python had not been aware of the pro-
ficiency of centaurs before, he had had a recent reminder.
He hesitated again.

Two more people burst out of the jungle where the path
exited. A nondescript young man and a luscious nude
young woman. "Grey! Nada!" Ivy exclaimed, thrilled.

The Python coiled around to meet this new challenge.
Certainly it was a better prospect than the nervy centaur!

"Don't look at his eyes!" Electra screamed to Grey.

Man from Mundania         211

Meanwhile Ivy got a clearer look at the girl behind Grey.
That wasn't Nada—that was a Maenad! What had hap-
pened?

Grey, true to his sometimes infuriating nature, ignored
the warning. He stared the Python right in the eye.

Ivy froze, appalled. So did everyone else, for their own
assorted reasons. So did Grey—and the Python. The two
were locked into that deadly gaze.

Then the Python moved. His head sank slowly to the
ground. His coils thrashed aimlessly.

Ivy felt her mouth hanging open. She looked around and
saw that the jaws of the proprietors were similarly slack.

Grey walked forward. "Are you all right. Ivy? We were
afraid maybe the Python—"

"You—you stared him down!" Ivy exclaimed.

"Of course he did, dummy!" the Maenad said. "He's
a Magician!"

"Well, not exactly that," Grey said, abashed.

Electra hurried up. "Where's Nada?"

There was a motion at Grey's breast pocket. A snake's
head poked out. Grey put up his hand, and the snake slid
up into it and around his arm. Then Nada manifested in
her human form, her feet landing neatly on the stone as
her arm was steadied. She was naked, of course, because
she was unable to transform her clothing when she changed
form. "But something very like it, I think," she said.
"Do you know, Ivy, he nulled their wine spring, then
restored it more potent than before?"

"He has a talent! He has a talent!" Electra exclaimed,
jumping up and down. "I knew it! I knew it!"

"What is this Maenad doing here?" Ivy demanded, fo-
cusing on the lesser matter because she wasn't quite pre-
pared to tackle the greater one.

"Well, this is, uh, Mae," Grey said. "She—I—we—"

"Oh?" Ivy inquired, looking more closely at the crea-
ture. Mae Maenad was just as nakedly wild and voluptu-
ous as before, surely quite intriguing for those who liked
that type.

"The Magician needed a guide," Mae explained. "So

212

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

213

I showed him the off-trail the Python uses and sniffed your
scent thereon, so he could find you."

"It's a good trail for serpents," Nada put in. "But there
was an uprooted nettle bush there that really had it in for
serpents, and I had to return to his pocket. Then the nettle

couldn't touch me."

"But how did he tame you?" Electra asked. "Everyone

knows that Maenads can't be—"

"Well, I don't really like blood," Mae confessed,
abashed. "When he made our spring blood—"

"Now I have to reward Mae for her help," Grey said.

"But I'm not sure, uh, how."

Ivy realized that she had better figure out a suitable
reward soon, because she didn't trust whatever the Mae-
nad might think of. That Wild Woman was entirely too

well formed!

"What happened to our guardian?" a proprietor de-
manded.

"Nothing bad," Grey said. "I just, uh, nulled him so

he wouldn't hurt anyone. Here, I'll revive him for you."
He walked across to the Python and touched the huge head.

The thrashing stopped. The head lifted. The eyes
blinked. "Go about your business," Grey said. "We are
visitors here, not intruders. Here, I'll pull out that arrow
for you." He put his hand on the shaft.

"You can't dislodge that arrow," Centurion said. "It
has a magic point. Only a centaur can—"

He broke off as the arrow came loose. The point was

red with blood but intact.

The Python quivered as if recovering from a fundamen-
tal shock, then slithered away across the stone.

"I guess it did hurt," Grey said. "Here is your arrow

back, centaur."

"Thank you. Magician," the centaur said, looking
much the way the Python had. He accepted the arrow.

The old man approached. "What is your business here,
Magician? We have no prior knowledge of you."

"Well, I, uh, just came to rescue Princess Ivy and Elec-
tra. It was nice of you to take care of them."

"Nice?" Ivy and Electra demanded together.

"Princess?" the proprietor demanded at the same time.

"Uh, yes," Grey said innocently. "This is Princess Ivy
of Castle Roogna, and this is Princess Nada of the Naga.
Didn't you know?"

The old man looked somewhat out of sorts. "We did
not inquire," he said gruffly.

"Well, they'll be leaving now," Grey said. "Thank you
again."

"Wait—what about my oracle?" Centurion asked.

"We have interpreted the message," the old man said
quickly. "It is: 'no Centaur has less magic than you.' "

"Oh." The centaur nodded, quite satisfied. "Yes.
Quite. Thank you. I shall be on my way." He suited action
to word, in the fashion of his kind.

"But we need our Pythia!" another proprietor cried.
"If you take these two away. Magician, what will we do?"

Ivy stepped in. "Mae, how would you like to have the
Magician arrange for you a new situation with a hard stone
room, a dismal white gown, no raw meat at all to eat, and
regular sessions with fumes that really drive you wild?"

Mae's face seemed to catch fire. "What a wonderful
thing!"

Ivy turned to the old man. "Here is your next priestess,
proprietor. You know she's a virgin; these Wild Women
don't love men, they eat them. Put her on the tripod and
she'll babble an incomprehensible streak you can interpret
to your heart's delight.''

"But she's a Maenad!" he protested.

"But a tame one! The Magician tamed her." She turned
back to Mae. "He did, didn't he? You won't try to tear
people apart anymore?"

Mae was a Wild Woman but not stupid. "He tamed me!
He tamed me!" she exclaimed. "No more Miss Nasty
Nymph!"

"But the Maenads are incorrigible!" the old man said.
"That's why we have the Python! To hold them off!"

Nada stepped in, in the perceptive way she had. "This
one is different. She no longer fights with serpents or tears
men apart. See." She assumed her snake form, the large
version. Mae, understanding, reached down to pet the




Man from Mundania

214

snake's head, though she did look a bit nervous about it.
Then Nada resumed human form. "Now kiss the Magi-
cian without biting him," she said.
This really set the Wild Woman back. "Do I have to?"
"Does she have to?" Ivy echoed, disturbed for a dif-
ferent reason.

"Well, I suppose she might kiss the proprietor ..."

The old man stumbled back, terrified.

"Point made," Ivy agreed with resignation. "Kiss her,
Grey, but don't enjoy it too much."

Grey did not look quite as upset about the prospect as
she might have wished. He turned to face Mae, and she
stepped into his embrace. They clinched and kissed, hold-
ing it a good long time.

"See?" Nada said to the proprietors. "She is perfectly
tame—affectionate, even. One might even call her lov-
able."

"Let's not go that far," Ivy muttered.

The proprietors were daunted by this display. "Perhaps
she will do," the old man said.

"But let's stop that kiss before she gets un-innocent no-
tions," an old woman added.

Ivy agreed completely. To her relief, they finally com-
pleted the kiss.

Mae looked dazed, and the candle flames in her eyes
were flickering. "Maybe I have misjudged men," she said.

"They—"

"They aren't all like that!" Ivy said. "This one's a Ma-
gician, remember. Ordinary ones won't be worth your
while. You don't have to eat them, just ignore them."

"Yes, of course," Mae agreed. But she did not look

entirely convinced.

"Come with us," one of the old women said. "We

must clean you and garb you."

"Clean me?" Mae asked, alarmed.

"They just sponge you off," Ivy explained quickly. "It
doesn't hurt. They just want you to look pretty for the

Clients."

"Look pretty ..." Mae repeated, glancing sidelong at  i

Grey. "Yes, maybe that is best."                        I

Man from Mundania        215

"Let's get out of here!" Ivy said briskly.

Nada held her back. "One more thing." She turned to
the old man. ' 'Is there a path around the base of the moun-
tain we can use to return to our starting place?"

"Certainly; all the Clients use it. Right that way." He
pointed.

"Thank you," Nada said, flashing him a smile. She was
better at that than Ivy was.

Electra led the way, skipping toward the indicated path.
Ivy took very firm hold of Grey's hand and led him away
from the ruins. Nada followed, the suggestion of a smile
on her face. She reverted to naga form, as it really was
best for windy paths.

Grey had not spoken a word since the kiss. Ivy turned
on him the moment they were out of sight and earshot of
the ruins. "Well, why so smug, Grey? Did she make that
much of an impression on you?" She was angry for what
she knew was no good reason.

Grey opened his mouth. Redness welled out. He turned
to the side and spat blood. "I, uh, couldn't say anything,
because if the blood showed they wouldn't believe she was
tame."

Ivy stared. "She did bite you!"

He found a handkerchief and dabbed at his lip. "Yes. I
think it was involuntary, like a sneeze. She just couldn't
get that close to a man without attacking, at least a little.
I couldn't break the kiss until she let go. So I sort of
concentrated and nulled her magic nature until she had to
stop."

"So that was what made her so respectful!" Ivy ex-
claimed. "She felt your power!"

"I guess so. I think she was sorry about it anyway. But
she's been a Wild Woman all her life, and it must be hard
to change right away, even if she really doesn't like
blood."

So the Maenad had not quite lost her taste for violence!
Somehow Ivy felt better. "You poor dear," she said,
abruptly full of sympathy. "Let me enhance your heal-
ing." Since the wound was in his mouth, she touched his




216

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

217

lips—with her own. She enhanced the kiss, making him

recover rapidly.

Soon they resumed their walk along the path, holding

hands again, but with better rapport than before.

Chex was glad to see them. "We heard some commo-
tion, but did not want to intrude," she said. "Did the
Muse answer your question?''

"Not exactly," Ivy said. "But we did leam that Grey
does have a talent. It seems he nullifies magic, when he
wants to. That explains a number of little mysteries."

"I should think so," Chex agreed. "But are you sure?
I saw no evidence of magic on his part before."

"Let's test it!" Electra exclaimed with her usual exu-
berance. "Let him try to stop you from flying!"

"But I don't want to do that!" Grey objected.

"Not permanently," Ivy reminded him. "Just enough
to demonstrate your power." She didn't add that she her-
self needed reassurance about it. He had subdued the Py-
thon, but that might have been because the big reptile
couldn't hypnotize Mundanes or maybe had trouble with
men. He thought he had nulled the Maenad, but it might
have been because continued close contact with him stirred
certain natural, hitherto suppressed romantic urges in her.
Could she, after all, be so emphatically a woman in every
physical respect without having at least a little womanly
passion? The glow in her eyes had been something, after
she kissed Grey! But Ivy did not want to discuss such
things openly. It would be embarrassing if she were mis-
taken.

"It does seem like a good test," Chex agreed. "Here,

Grey, get on my back. If you can prevent me from taking
off, I will know you have magic power to counter mine."
Grey climbed on in the awkward way he had. Ivy mar-
veled that she found his clumsiness endearing, but she did.
Grey was nobody's idea of a dashing hero, just a decent

man.

Chex spread her wings, braced herself for a leap, and

nicked her tail twice. The first time the tip touched Grey,
the second time it touched her own body. That of course

was her magic: the flick of her tail made whatever it
touched become light, so that her wings had much less
weight to lift. That was why she was able to fly without
having wings ten times as large as they were.

Chex leaped—and stumbled. She came down solidly on
all four hooves, a look of surprise on her face. "I can't
get light!" she exclaimed.

"I nulled your tail," Grey explained. "Do you want
me to reverse it?"

"No. Let me try again." She flicked her tail several
more times, but with no better effect. "Indeed, there is
no effect," she confessed. "Very well, reverse it."

Nothing showed. Chex flicked her tail again—and sud-
denly floated into the air, her wings only partially spread.
"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, frantically pumping
her wings to get her balance.

Grey hung onto her mane as they wobbled in the air.
"Rebound!" he said. "All those prior flicks must be tak-
ing effect now, making you too light."

"Can you null me just slightly?" Chex asked, evidently
fighting to prevent herself from sailing way up out of con-
trol.

"I'll try." Then she stabilized and came slowly to earth.

"He has magic," Chex announced as Grey dismounted.
Her mane was in disarray, and she looked flustered.

"Rebound," Nada said. "That must be why the Mae-
nads' wine spring got even stronger than before when you
canceled the null. That's some magic!"

"That's like my magic," Ivy said. "I simply Enhance,
but you can enhance by rebound!" She was impressed by
the demonstration; she trusted Chex's judgment. "But I
wonder how general this talent is."

"See if it works on me," Nada said. "Stop me from
changing form." She went to Grey and held out her arm.

He took it. They stood there, doing nothing.

"Well, go on, try to change," Electra said.

"lam trying!" Nada replied.

"Oh." Electra smiled. "Well, then, let her do it,
Grey."

Suddenly Nada turned into a serpent with a human head




218 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 219

at each end. "Eeeek! What happened?" she cried in
chorus.

"Rebound!" Ivy said, amazed. "Quick, Grey, null her
down a little!"

The heads disappeared. For a moment the serpent had
no head. Then Nada's regular form appeared: the body of
the serpent, with just one human head. "That was horri-
ble!" she said. "I never had trouble with my natural form
like that before!"

Cheiron nodded. "Undisciplined magic is dangerous.
We should cease these experiments until a safer program
of testing can be established."

"Yes," Grey agreed immediately. "I don't want to mess
anyone up. I'm not used to having a talent at all."

But Ivy could not be satisfied yet. "They were calling
you Magician."

"I never claimed to be that!" he protested. "The Mae-
nads assumed—"

"I am a Sorceress," Ivy continued evenly. "That is the
same as a Magician, only female, the terminology a ves-
tige of what my mother calls Xanth's sexist heritage. Noth-
ing short of Magician-level magic could null my talent.
So let's find out if—"

"I advise against this," Cheiron said. Chex nodded
agreement, and Xap squawked.

"No, I really want to know," Ivy said. She had always
managed to get her own way, ultimately, and she intended
to have it now. "I want to know if Grey is Magician level.
Try to null me, Grey."

"I, uh, really don't think—" he began. Then, seeing
her set face, he yielded. "But I'm not sure exactly how,
uh, it would work."

"I'll try to enhance something, and you try to prevent
me." She looked around. Her eye fell on a glowworm just
poking its head up as the evening approached. "I'll en-
hance that glowworm."

She picked up the worm. It wriggled in her hand, glow-
ing faintly. Grey put his hand on her other arm. "Very
well—I'm nulling you," he said.

Ivy felt nothing. She concentrated on the worm, willing
it to brighten.

It nickered, but did not increase its light. She concen-
trated harder, but it remained dim. She put forth all her
effort. Then the glow brightened slightly. Grey had defi-
nitely crimped her style!

"Now unnull," she said.

The glowworm flashed like a lightning bug, so brightly
that the entire region became noon-lit. Then it exploded,
burning her hand.

They stared. The glowworm was gone; only ashes re-
mained.

"We killed it!" Grey said, appalled.

Ivy looked at her smarting hand. "Oh, I wish I hadn't
done that!"

"Precisely," Cheiron said, in a fools-heed-wamings-
not tone. "Now we know that Grey truly is Magician cal-
iber. No more experiments."

"No more experiments," Grey agreed, staring at the
ash.

"No more experiments," Ivy agreed. Then she started
to cry. That poor glowworm!

They camped for the night, subdued. They had found
Grey's magic, and that was wonderful. It was Magician
level, and that was amazing. They could now get married,
and that was best of all. But they had done harm in the
testing of it, and that was bad. Way too late. Ivy wished
she hadn't pushed it. There had been no need to destroy
the innocent glowworm. She just hadn't thought of the
consequence, despite Cheiron's warning.

In the morning, after breakfast, they discussed it—and
came up with a disturbing question. It was Electra who
posed it, but perhaps it had been in the back of the minds
of the others too.

"How can a man from Mundania have magic at all, let
alone be a Magician?"

There was the root of it. Something was fundamentally
wrong, unless everything they knew about Mundanes and




220

Man from Mundania

magic was false. Until that question was answered, they
could not rest easy.

Nada assumed her snake form, and they mounted their
steeds and flew back to Castle Roogna. But Ivy knew that
despite their seeming victory, it was not yet appropriate to
marry Grey. Magicians did not appear from nowhere^ and
certainly not from Mundania. She knew that her parents
would insist on learning the truth, and she knew they would
be right. Her quest with Grey was far from over; it had
only changed its nature. It was as if they had climbed to
what they thought was the top of Mount Parnassus, only
to discover that it was only a ledge, and that the real peak
remained as far above as ever.

Chapter 12 • Pewter's
Ploy

JJD

• lease. Grey, I really didn't want to admit
my ignorance there at the castle," Rapunzel said in his
ear. "I mean, I understand why you and Ivy need com-
pany on this trip, because betrothed couples aren't sup-
posed to go too far alone together, and Nada and Electra
didn't care to tangle with Com-Pewter again. But why are
you going to see the evil machine?"

Grey had not yet gotten used to having a tiny and beau-
tiful woman perched on his shoulder and holding onto his
earlobe with one doll-like hand. The parents had decreed
that he and Ivy had to be chaperoned until they got mar-
ried, which seemed to be their way of agreeing that the
doubt about that marriage was gone. Ivy had met their
ultimatum and proved Grey had a magic talent, with a
vengeance. In fact he was now eligible to be king some
day! But the parents shared Ivy's own concern about the
origin of that talent. Mysteries abounded in Xanth and
things that made no sense, but a mystery relating to the
betrothed of a princess was a serious matter. So little Ra-
punzel and her similarly little husband, Grundy Golem,
were the chaperones this time; size hardly mattered in this
land of magic. Grundy was riding Ivy's shoulder as she
walked on the path ahead, and evidently regaling her with
remarks, because every so often she giggled.

"Well, uh, it seems that this Com-Pewter is similar to




222 Man from Mundania

a machine I had in Mundania," he said. "Actually, what
I had was a computer, and all I used it for was word
processing—that's the Mundane term for writing papers. I
would type on this keyboard—that's, uh, do you know what
a typewriter is? Um, well, then, it's like a magic pen that
sort of writes the words for you; all you have to do is touch
the right keys, and it sort of saves the words and then
prints, uh, writes them all in one big swoop at the end."

"Mundania must be a very strange place," Rapunzel
observed, kicking her feet. She had petite feet and very
nice legs; he could just about see them from the comer of
his eye. He understood that she had elven ancestry, so
could assume the size of elves—or any other size, from
tiny to huge—without changing her form at all.

"Very strange," he agreed. "Anyway, I got a new pro-
gram for this computer—a program is sort of a set of in-
structions that tells it what to do, and—"

"Oh, the way Queen Irene tells Ivy what to do?"

"Uh, not exactly, but maybe close enough. This new
program changed it a lot. It started talking to me on its
screen, and uh, well, I guess granting wishes."

"That doesn't sound like Com-Pewter!" she exclaimed,
tossing her hair. That was quite a trick, because her hair
was as long as forever; in fact she had tied a hank of it to
his pocket button as an anchor in case she should fall. The
rest of it flowed out about her like a silken cloak. It was
dark at her head, but faded to almost white at the end of
the tresses, luxuriant all the way. Her eyes shifted colors
similarly, depending on the shadow. "It doesn't grant
wishes, it changes reality to suit itself."

"This, uh, program may have done the same thing. It—
well, I wanted a nice girlfriend. I really, well, I was pretty
lonely, there by myself in my room all the time, not much
good at anything, and—"

Rapunzel stroked his ear with a duster formed from
braided hair. "I understand perfectly. I was locked up in
a tower for ages. If it hadn't been for my correspondence
with Ivy, I don't know what I would have done."

"Yes, I guess you do understand! So the program, well,
it claimed to have brought Ivy—"

Man from Mundania        223

"But she was sent by the Heaven Cent!"

"Yes. To where she was most needed—and I sure
needed her! So I guess the computer was just taking credit
for that when it wasn't so. But it must have known she
was coming. And it did help; it made it possible for us to
talk together. It was, well, like magic. Ivy recognized it
as Com-Pewter. So when it turned out I had magic, she
remembered that, and figured Com-Pewter must know
something, so we're going to find out what it knows."

"But—but how could Com-Pewter be in Mundania?"
she asked, cutely perplexed. He couldn't see her face, but
the cuteness was caressing his ear like a warm earmuff on
a chill day. Grundy was a lucky golem!

"That is another mystery," Grey admitted. "I thought
it was a scientific program that accounted for the change
in my computer, but now I recognize it as magic. So we
have two problems: how can a Mundane have magic, and
how can there be magic in Mundania? They may be linked,
and surely Com-Pewter knows the answer to at least one
of them.''

"Thank you," she said. "Now I understand. Of course
you must ask the evil machine. But I hope it doesn't get
the better of you."

"Well, I do have, uh, magic, now, and if I can null
other magic, maybe I can null Com-Pewter. So we
shouldn't have much to fear."

"But if the machine knows about you and helped put
you in touch with Ivy, it may know how to handle you."

"Um, yes. I'd better warn Ivy before we go into its
cave." But Grey was not unduly worried because he knew
that computers could not take any physical action. How
could it stop him from just walking out, when its magic
couldn't work on him when he didn't want it to?

He walked faster, catching up to Ivy. "Hey, Rapunzel
thought of something," he said.

" 'Punzel's got a lot of thoughts in her little head,"
Grundy agreed. "But her hair stops most of them from
getting out, fortunately."

"Unlike Grundy's big mouth," Rapunzel retorted,
"which lets everything out, ready or not."

224

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

225

Grundy put his thumbs up beside his ears, waggling his
fingers at her. She responded by sticking out her tongue
at him. Again, Grey felt the gesture though he couldn't
see it. This seemed to be just another incidental aspect of
the magic of Xanth.

'Hey, I thought you two liked each other!" Grey said.

'No we don't," Grundy said, glowering.

'That's true," Rapunzel agreed with her teeth clenched.

'But—"
'We love each other!" they exclaimed together, and

broke out laughing.

Ivy laughed too. "I guess you walked into that one,
Grey," she said.

"I guess I did," he agreed ruefully.

"They do that to anyone who hasn't known them be-
fore," Ivy continued. "Before they got together, Grundy
had a loud mouth and little thought, while 'Punzel had
vice versa. Now he thinks more and she talks more, and
they overlap quite a bit.''

"Oh, you told!" Grundy exclaimed, while Rapunzel
blushed. "And you said / had a big mouth!"

Ivy looked flustered. "What I meant by 'overlap'

was—"
Rapunzel could no longer stifle her giggle. "Gotcha!"

Grundy said.

Grey stifled a grin. So it wasn't just newcomers who got
teased! "But about what Rapunzel thought of—if Com-
Pewter knows about me, should we just walk into his

lair?"

Ivy considered. "I think Pewter wants us to come to
him. I have the feeling that we shall have to do some
dealing to get our information. So we have to go in. It
isn't as if my folks don't know where I am, this time."

Grey realized that the King of Xanth could probably
make a lot of trouble for the machine, if sufficiently an-
noyed. The machine surely knew that. Maybe that was
enough of a backup.

"But if push comes to shove," she continued, "we can
coordinate on some plan to overcome the evil machine."

"But he will overhear whatever we plan!"

She brought up her right hand, putting her two larger
fingers together with her thumb in the sign for no.

Now he understood! Grey nodded, not making a big
thing of it because he realized that someone might be
magically watching or listening. They did have a secret
language, thanks to that episode in Mundania! He re-
hearsed the signs in his mind, hoping he remembered
enough to be intelligible.

They resumed their walk. ' 'Was that a magic gesture?''
Rapunzel inquired softly in his ear.

"Not exactly," he murmured. "But if you see us mov-
ing our hands when we're with Com-Pewter, pay no atten-
tion so the machine doesn't catch on."

"Very well," she agreed, perplexed.

The path was devious, but in due course they arrived at
the cave of the dread machine. It seemed to be guarded
by an invisible giant, but they were not affrighted. They
knew that the giant was there only to stampede travelers
into the cave where Com-Pewter had power.

"Hey, bigfoot, how ya doing?" Grundy called, his voice
amazingly loud. Grey realized that Ivy was enhancing it
for him so that he could reach the giant's distant head, up
there in the clouds.

"Aooooga!" the giant's voice dropped down. Appar-
ently the giant's language, like his body, was unintelligible
to normal folk here in regular Xanth.

"Hey, that's great!" the golem replied. Grey remem-
bered that Grundy could speak the languages of all living
things.

"Ask him if he knows Girard," Ivy suggested.

"Hey, empty-face! Know Girard?"

A foghorn series of grunts came down. "Yes, he was a
loner, always doing odd things," Grundy translated.

"That's the one!" Grey agreed. "But he's happy now."

"I'll tell him about how Girard went to the gourd."
Grundy went into a series of honks and gross gutturals.

"Look, we have to get on with our business," Ivy said
impatiently. "You can stay out here and chat if you want,
but Grey and I have to talk with Com-Pewter.''




226

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

227

"I'm ready," Grundy said. "Giants aren't much for
conversation anyway. At least this one doesn't smell as
bad as they usually do."

"I made him take a bath, last time," Ivy explained.

They entered the cave. It was dark near the opening, but
lighted deeper in. They came to a chamber with polished
walls, and sure enough, something very like a homemade
computer sitting on the floor. This, then, was Com-Pewter.

"Doesn't look like much to me," Grey remarked. "I
mean, I'm no computer engineer, but even I can see this
equipment is obsolete."

"Watch it!" Grundy said. "This thing can hear you,
and it can do things you wouldn't believe!"

Grey had seen enough of the golem to realize that he
had respect for almost nothing. If he was in awe of this
crude machine, Com-Pewter must indeed have power.

The pane of glass at the top of the assemblage lighted.
WHO ARE YOU? it printed.

"I am Princess Ivy," Ivy said quickly. "I have brought
my betrothed. Grey of Mundania, to talk with you."

AH, AT LAST! the screen printed.

"All we want to know is, what do you know about
Grey?" Ivy said. "He has a magic talent, and—"

OF COURSE. WHAT IS HIS TALENT?

Grey had a sudden suspicion. He flashed a no sign to
Ivy. If the machine didn't know his talent, it was better to

keep it in reserve.

Ivy caught the signal. "Well, Pewter, we thought you
would know. So we came to consult with you. After all,
you were in touch with him in Mundania, weren't you?"

YES AND NO.

"You were not in touch?" Grey asked, startled. "But
we saw—" He broke off, halted by Ivy's no sign. She was
right; there was no point in telling this machine any more
than they had to.

YOU SAW WHAT?

"We saw something that reminded us of you," Grey
said carefully. "Can you explain it?"

I DO NOT HAVE TO EXPLAIN.

"Then we shall depart," Ivy said, turning to face the
cave exit.

PRINCESS DISCOVERS DOOR LOCKED, CAN NOT EXIT, the

screen printed.

A closed door appeared, shutting off the exit.

"I don't see anything," Grey said. "Come on. Ivy, let's
go." He took her arm and walked to the door. As he had
expected, it was illusion; they walked right through it.

A bell dinged. They turned to look back. IT WAS A
BLUFF, the screen printed, i SHALL ANSWER ALL YOUR
QUESTIONS.

They returned, but Ivy made a sign he couldn't inter-
pret. He assumed it meant something like "caution." It
was obvious that this was a treacherous and perhaps mean-
spirited machine.

"Why does Grey have a talent, when he is Mundane?"
Ivy asked.

BECAUSE HE IS NOT MUNDANE.

"But I am Mundane!" Grey exclaimed. "This is the
first time I've set foot in Xanth. I didn't even believe in
it, before!"

TRUE, the screen responded. BUT NOT THE WHOLE
TRUTH.

"Then give us the whole truth!" Ivy said.

YOU WILL NOT NECESSARILY LIKE IT.

Grey exchanged another half glance with Ivy. What was
this machine getting at?

"Why not?" Ivy asked after a pause.

LET'S MAKE A DEAL. TELL ME ALL YOU KNOW ABOUT
GREY, AND I WILL TELL YOU ALL I KNOW.

"How can you be ignorant of what we know, if you
know things we don't?" Grey asked.

I ASSURE YOU IT IS SO. I NEED TO KNOW YOUR STORY IN
ORDER TO BE ASSURED OF THE RELEVANCE OF MINE. AFTER
WE EXCHANGE INFORMATION WE SHALL HAVE TO DEAL
AGAIN. THIS IS WHAT YOU WILL NOT NECESSARILY LIKE.

Again they considered. It seemed to Grey that if the
machine tried something they objected to, like conjuring
a monster, he could stop it by using his talent to null Com-
Pewter himself. This would be as effective if the machine




228

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

229

knew his talent as if it did not. Perhaps more effective,
because of the psychological element.

He caught Ivy's eye again. She nodded. They would

deal.

"We agree," Grey said. "We will tell you what we
know, and then you will tell us what you know, with no
concealment. But we make no commitment about dealing
thereafter.''

AGREED. START WITH YOUR LOCATION AND THE MANNER
YOU CONTACTED MY EMISSARY.

Grey started in. He described his origin in Mundania,
and the way he had installed the new program and then
encountered a series of odd girls before meeting Ivy. He
concluded by telling of his magic talent.

AMAZING! I KNEW YOU WOULD HAVE MAGIC, BUT NOT
THAT IT WOULD BE MAGICIAN CLASS. PERHAPS SOME MUN-
DANE INTERACTION ENHANCED IT. THIS IS COMPLETELY
POSITIVE.

"Your turn. Pewter," Ivy said grimly.

IT WILL BE MORE TELLING IF I DRAMATIZE THE ORIGIN.

"Do it any way you want," Grey said. "Just give us
the full information."

The screen changed color. It became a picture of a dark
lake in a cave, in shades of gray. Print flashed over the
picture: THE TIME OF NO MAGIC.

"What?" Grey asked.

PRINCESS IVY WILL EXPLAIN WHILE I SHOW THE SCENES,

the screen printed.

"It was before my time," Ivy said. "In fact, before my
father's time. Something happened, and the magic of all
Xanth turned off." As she spoke, the scene shifted to
show limp tangle trees and bedraggled dragons, all suffer-
ing from the loss of the magic that sustained them. "I
think it only lasted for a few hours, but it was awful.
Xanth was dying. Then the magic came back on, and it
hasn't been off since—but things weren't the same. The
Gorgon had stoned a whole lot of men, and they all came
back to life when the magic went and stayed alive when it
returned. But the magic creatures and plants were pretty
much the same. Apparently it was only temporary magic

that got nulled. But the Forget Spell on the Gap Chasm
took a horrible jolt, and it began to break up, and now it's
gone. My father was born right after that; the ogres marked
his birthday wrong on their calendar; they always were
somewhat ham-handed."

Meanwhile the scene on the screen, which resembled
nothing so much as a television movie before the days of
color, had completed its scan of the devastation wreaked
by the loss of magic, and returned to the subterranean
pool. From this pool two figures struggled. One was a
man of healthy middle age; the other was a rather pretty
young woman. Others were emerging from the pool, in-
cluding some monsters, but the scene oriented on these
two. They seemed not to get along very well; they gestic-
ulated as if telling each other to go away. But the man
found a ledge leading up a river tunnel, and the woman
followed.

Then Grey realized that there were subtitles. He moved
closer to the screen with Ivy so that they could read the
words, for they were in much -smaller print than before,
so as not to obscure the picture.

LOOK, the bedraggled woman was saying, YOU DON'T

LIKE ME AND I DON'T LIKE YOU, BUT WE CAN GET OUT OF
HERE PASTER IF WE COOPERATE. ONCE THE MAGIC RE-
TURNS WE WILL BOTH BE FINISHED; YOU KNOW THAT.

The man in the picture considered. VERY WELL—WE

SHALL COOPERATE UNTIL WE GET OUT OF XANTH. THEN
WE GO OUR OWN WAYS.

THAT'S FINE! she agreed.

They hurried on up the river. A monster appeared like
a twisted small sphinx. I'LL RESHAPE IT, the woman said.
She gestured.

But nothing happened. OH, i FORGOT! THERE is NO

MAGIC! THAT'S WHY WE WERE ABLE TO ESCAPE FROM THE
BRAIN CORAL'S STORAGE POOL.

BUT WE DON'T KNOW WHEN THE MAGIC WILL RETURN,

the man reminded her. WE HAVE TO KEEP MOVING OR THE

CORAL WILL RECAPTURE US!

As they talked, Grey found himself getting used to the
printed dialogue, and it seemed increasingly as if he ac-




Man from Mundania

230

tually heard them speak. The scene became real for him,
as was often the case when he watched movies.

"But I'm getting tired!" the woman protested. "I'm not

used to terrain like this!"

"What do you want, woman—for me to carry you?" he
demanded irately. "I'm tired myself!"

"Only to slow the pace a little. Look, we can't possibly
get all the way to Xanth border afoot without resting; it
will be better to set a pace we can maintain so we can go
farther without collapsing."

The man considered. "You are correct." He slowed the

pace.

TIME PASSES, the screen said, the picture fading out.
Then it showed the two emerging into daylight. They were
obviously both quite fatigued. They fetched some sodden
pillows from a defunct pillow bush and lay down to rest

and then to sleep.

It was early morning, and evidently cold. There were
no blankets, and the pillows were falling apart. Finally
they embraced, not with any passion but to conserve their
body warmth, and slept.

TIME PASSES.

The next scene showed the two back on their feet, be-
draggled but moving better. They found stray items of
food, snatching spoiling pies from bushes and eating as

they traveled.

Then they encountered the Gap Chasm.

"We forgot about this!" the woman exclaimed, ap-
palled. In that moment in the bright daylight, she looked
almost familiar, but Grey could not quite place the con-
nection. Certainly he had known no one in Xanth then;

he hadn't been alive!

"Naturally," the man agreed gruffly. "That idiot det-
onated the most powerful Forget Spell ever forged in it; it
will be centuries before that dissipates, if ever."

The woman nodded grimly. "The same idiot who intro-
duced Millie the Maid to the Zombie Master. I would have
married him, in due course, if he hadn't been smitten by
her! How could a Magician fall for a nothing like her?"

"The Zombie Master and Millie the Ghost!" Ivy ex-


Man from Mundania        231

claimed. "They did live in that time, before they came to
ours!"

The man smiled. "She had a talent. She needed nothing
else."

"Oh, yes—the talent of sex appeal! But she'd be just as
drab as I am now, if she were here without her magic!"

The man eyed her. "Indubitably true. Now don't mis-
understand me; I regard you as a bad attitude that walks
like a girl, but physically you are not drab."

"Well, the same to you! Who are you to talk? Every-
thing you touch fouls up! But you're hardly ugly, physi-
cally."

"Oh?" he inquired, annoyed. "Well, things are supposed
to foul up; that's my talent. And not only are you not drab,
you are in fact quite shapely, in your fashion."

"Is that so?" she demanded angrily. "You are the worst
villain on the scene! But actually you're handsome!"

It was obvious by the man's sinister expression that he
intended to strike back at her hard. "I would even go so
far as to call you beautiful," he said with calculated af-
front. "Only those rags you're in detract."

She was almost speechless with rage. She tore off her
remaining clothes and stood naked. "Well, now I'm out
of these rags: I dare you to repeat that!"

"I repeat it," he said nastily, eying her thoroughly so
as to be absolutely certain. "I had supposed that you used
your talent to reshape your body to better advantage, but
I know now that you came by it naturally. You can't claim
the excuse of Sorceress-level enhancement.''

"I'm no Sorceress!" she screamed in his face. "You
think everybody is Magician level like you?"

"That is a matter of opinion. I have a right to mine.
Your magic is Sorceress level."

The woman opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
She jumped at him, clawing at his chest, but succeeded
only in ripping away much of his own tattered clothing.
Then he caught her wrists and held her helpless. "Fur-
thermore," he said, his face close to hers, "you think you
lack sex appeal, but last night when we slept embraced for




232 Man from Mundania

warmth it was all I could do to refrain from taking advan-
tage of you."

"Well, why didn't you?" she cried. "It's your business
to foul things up! Do you foul yourself up too, so you
can't even do wrong by a woman in your power?"

"I foul things up magically," he retorted. "This had
nothing to do with magic! You have natural sex appeal,
deny it as you will!"

"Well, you have it yourself, so there! You know what I
think? I think that, deny it as you will, you have a fun-
damentally decent streak in you! Otherwise, last night—I
mean it isn't as if I would have resisted!"

They stood there, chest to chest, each angrier than the
other. "You female dog!" he said. "I have half a mind
to—"

"So do I! So do I, you male dog!" she retorted.

"You probably wouldn't even slap me if I kissed you,
you shameless creature."

"I dare you to kiss me, you hypocrite!"

Their lips met. He tried to sneer to show how little he
cared; she tried to make mush lips to show how indifferent
she was. They both bungled it badly in their fury. The kiss
lasted a long time, and the shameful truth was that it was
a rather intense and effective example of its breed.

"Understand, I have no respect for you at all," he told
her after the long moment. His hair was ruffled and his
face was flushed, as if he had just been exposed to a truly
repulsive experience. "I am doing this only because the
sight and feel of your body overwhelms my better judg-
ment."

' 'Your embrace destroys any judgment I have!'' she shot
back. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks had what
would have been rosy highlights in a color scene, as if she
had just experienced something too awful to recognize. "I
detest what you are making me so eager to do!"

"I will be thoroughly disgusted with myself tomor-
row," he said ominously.

"I will feel totally without virtue, tomorrow," she re-
plied grimly.

233

Man from Mundania

"Just to be quite certain we understand how bad this
is," he said, "we had better try it another time."

"Just so we never so far forget ourselves as to make this
mistake again," she agreed.

They kissed again, and sure enough, it was even worse
than before. Both of them were breathless when it fin-
ished, their chests heaving as if they had been running.

"I am appalled to think that I am doing this with you,"
he said, holding her more closely than was necessary for
support. "With anyone else it could be worthwhile."

"Well, I'm not taking this lying down," she said, dis-
engaging so she could lie down.

He joined her. "And when I realize that we could have
been making good our escape from Xanth, instead of
wasting our time like this—"

"Or catching up on our rest," she added, putting her
arms around him. "There has probably never been any-
thing quite as foolish as this!"

"Especially considering that we detest each other." He
drew her in quite close.

"And want nothing so much as never to see each other
again," she agreed, stroking his back.
"This entire business is disastrous!"
"A complete catastrophe!"

They kissed yet again, both shuddering with the disgust
they felt for this outrage.

"Say, this is getting hot!" Grundy said zestfully.
"Watch your mouth!" Rapunzel snapped, jumping
down to approach him menacingly.
"Listen, hairball—" he started, meeting her.
They laughed, embracing.

Something had been nagging Grey as he watched the
screen. Now he realized what it was: Grundy and Rapun-
zel's joke! Acting as if they hated each other—that was
what this episode of the man and woman was like!

Then something strange happened. It took Grey another
moment to figure it out. Color was appearing on the
screen!

"I thought Pewter couldn't handle color!" Ivy said.




Man from Mundania

234

"I didn't know Pewter could handle pictures!" Grundy
said. "It was always just print, before."

"You're missing the best part," Rapunzel murmured.
Grey's gaze snapped back to the screen. "What are they

doing?" he asked, amazed.

"We aren't supposed to tell you," Rapunzel said. "Ever

since we joined the Adult Conspiracy."

Then the scene changed. It showed a snoozing big-beaked
bird suddenly waking, as if jolted by an unexpected call.

"They're summoning the stork!" Ivy exclaimed, catch-
ing on. "And it just got the message! I never knew how

it was done!"

"You are losing your innocence," Rapunzel said sadly.

The picture returned to the man and woman. They had
just realized something themselves. "The magic has re-
turned!" she exclaimed. And there, Grey realized, was
the significance of the color on the screen: it signified the
magic ambience of Xanth, after the blah shades of gray of

the Time of No Magic.

"We did, indeed, dally too long," the man replied.
Oddly, he did not look as unhappy about their dalliance

as might have been expected.

"Much too long," the woman agreed, seeming no more

upset about their folly than he.

"But we can still escape!" he said. "The Brain Coral
should be disorganized for a time, and it can't act directly;

it will have to send a message to recapture us, and that

will be hard to do for a few hours!"

The woman gazed out into the Gap Chasm, at whose
lip they had just summoned the stork. "But it will take us
days to cross this, even if we can get past the dragon at
the bottom. We don't dare use a magic bridge or even a

recognized crossing region!"

"True." He considered briefly. "Perhaps we should foul
up the pursuit by doing the completely unexpected: trav-
eling south, instead of north toward the exit from Xanth."

"But then we won't escape Xanth at all! They will use
magic to ferret us out, and we'll be done for!"

"Maybe not. I can exert my talent to foul up the pur-


Man from Mundania        235

suit, and you can exert yours to reshape some blankets
into clothing for us. We might yet be able to sneak out
before they get truly organized."

"But that means we shall have to stay together!" she
said, expressing a good deal more alarm than she seemed
to feel.

"It is a burden we shall just have to endure," he said,
surprisingly undismayed.

"I suppose so. Just so we don't do any of this again,"
she said, putting her arms around him.

"Or any of this," he agreed, kissing her.

"How fortunate that we understand each other so well,"
she said, with a smile that might have had a hint of wry-
ness.

"Well, we certainly made our attitude toward each other
clear enough," he agreed with even less of a hint of irony.

"When you insulted me by calling my talent Sorceress
level, did you really mean it?"

"Of course I meant that insult!" he said indignantly.
"Do you think I would compliment you?"

She was silent, but there were tears in her eyes. It was
evident that of all the insults he had proffered, that was
the one that had scored most effectively. Perhaps it had
been the one that caused her to make the supreme sacrifice
of dragging him right down to the awful business of sum-
moning the stork. Certainly her revenge had been effec-
tive, costly as it must have been to her self-esteem.

They walked south, away from the chasm, their aversion
for each other manifesting in subtle ways, such as when
he mockingly helped her over a fallen tree or when she
just as mockingly gave him the finest of the yellowberry
pies she discovered. At times they waxed eloquent in their
sarcasm, addressing each other as "dear" or "darling,"
and every so often they kissed again, just to make sure the
revulsion was undiminished. A stranger might even have
been fooled into thinking they felt about each other as
Grey and Ivy did, so perfect was their emulation of that
lamented state. It was a truly amazing performance.

Then they encountered an invisible giant. The monster
was stumbling around, evidently still dazed by the recent

236

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

237

absence of magic, and there was no telling where his
clumsy foot would fall next. They fled into a nearby cave

for safety.

GREETINGS, INTRUDERS, a screen printed.
The two halted, there in the cave, drawing together for

mutual protection despite their dislike of each other.

"What are you?" the man demanded.

I AM COM-PEWTER. I GOVERN THIS REGION. YOU ARE
NOW IN MY POWER.

"I have news for you," the man said. "I am a—"
He stopped, for the woman had elbowed him. They were

trying to hide their identities!

"I am about to depart this cave with my, um, wife,"
the man said, choking down the implied intimacy for the
sake of concealing their actual feelings for one another.
"I don't believe in your power." The two of them turned
to go, evidently concluding that the staggering giant was
a better risk than this strange device.

DOOR SLAMS CLOSED, PREVENTING EXIT, the SCreeH

printed.

A door appeared across the exit. It slammed open.
WHAT WENT WRONG? the screen demanded, appalled.
"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong," the man

murmured, smiling obscurely.
i HEARD THAT! the screen printed. NOW i KNOW YOU!

YOU ARE MAGICIAN MURPHY, FRESHLY ESCAPED FROM THE
STORAGE POOL OF THE BRAIN CORAL! AN EVIL MAN'.

"Magician Murphy!" Ivy exclaimed. "I thought his tal-
ent seemed familiar!"

Murphy, glancing back, saw the print. "Curses! We
shall have to destroy this thing, lest it give us away."

WAIT! I AM AN EVIL MACHINE! WE MUST POOL OUR RE-
SOURCES FOR GREATER EVIL THAN EVER;

"Now that's interesting," the woman said. "Just what
is a machine? I think I should render it into a topologically
harmless configuration, just to be sure."

AND YOU MUST BE VADNE, EVIL BUT BEAUTIFUL SOR-
CERESS, ALSO ESCAPED FROM CONFINEMENT IN THE POOL.

"That's my mother's name!" Grey exclaimed. "Vadne

Murphy! But she's forty years old! She's no beautiful Sor-
ceress!"

Then he stared at Ivy, the revelation dawning.
"Not in Mundania," Ivy said. "Not nineteen years
later. All that time with no magic, getting worn down by
drear existence ..."

On the screen, Vadne pursed her lips. "Beautiful Sor-
ceress? This thing insults me just as you do! Maybe we
should consult further with this device."

I WILL HELP YOU ESCAPE RECAPTURE IF YOU HELP ME

GAIN ULTIMATE POWER OVER XANTH, the screen offered.

"But we must flee Xanth!" Magician Murphy pro-
tested. "We are fugitives! There is no freedom for us here!
We can not help you at all."

Com-Pewter considered, the screen pulsing gently with
the word CONSIDERING blinking in a comer. Then: i HAVE

THE PATIENCE OF THE INANIMATE. I AM PREPARED TO
DEFER MY AMBITION FOR THE SAKE OF A BETTER CHANCE
OF ITS ACHIEVEMENT. I WILL GET YOU OUT OF XANTH NOW
IF YOU WILL GIVE ME YOUR SON.

"What?" Murphy, Vadne, and Grey asked together.

YOU HAVE SUMMONED THE STORK WITH AN ORDER FOR

A SON, the screen printed. YOU MAY NOT RETURN TO

XANTH, BUT YOUR SON MAY. GIVE HIM TO ME IN EX-
CHANGE FOR YOUR ESCAPE. I WILL ACCEPT HIS SERVICE IN
LIEU OF YOURS.

Murphy and Vadne exchanged a glance and a half. "We
would have to stay together, even in Mundania," she said.
"Can we stand that?"

"Are you implying I can't stand as much as you can?"
he demanded. Then, to Pewter: "We are evil folk; how
can you trust us to keep that pledge?"

YOU MAY BE EVIL, BUT YOUR SON WILL BE GOOD. WHEN
HE LEARNS OF YOUR PLEDGE, HE WILL HONOR IT.

The two considered. Then, reluctantly, they made the
deal. The picture faded out.

It was only a moment, but it seemed like a generation
to Grey, as he oriented on what he had learned. His par-
ents—escaped criminals of Xanth! That explained so




238 Man from Mundania

much, but was also so difficult to accept. How could he
deal with this?

"So you were brought by the Xanth stork," Rapunzel
said. ' 'Your magic talent must have been set by your ori-
gin, even though your parents left Xanth and you were
delivered in Mundania."

"They have a, uh, different way of doing it in Mun-
dania," Grey said. "But yes, I was conceived—uh, sig-
naled for—in Xanth, so that does explain my magic. Aad
having a Magician and a Sorceress for parents meant I had
that level of talent too, just as was the case with Ivy. But
if they escaped at the Time of No Magic, that was before
King Dor was, uh, delivered. So how come I'm not his

age?"

"No problem," Grundy said. "There's a time curtain
at the border. We can step from Xanth into any time of
Mundania, and any place of Mundania too, but Mundanes
have more trouble controlling it. Com-Pewter must have
arranged for them to step into the Mundania of more re-
cent vintage."

i ARRANGED THAT, Com-Pewter agreed. THIS is THE

COMPLETION OF MY PLOT. I WAITED TO BRING YOU TO
XANTH UNTIL THERE WAS AN AVAILABLE PRINCESS FOR YOU
TO MARRY. I ADMIT THAT THERE WAS AN ELEMENT OF
CHANCE WHEN I SENT YOUR PARENTS TO THE CURRENT
TIME, BECAUSE THE FIRSTBORN OF THIS GENERATION
MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN FEMALE. WHEN IT WAS, I KNEW IT
WAS TIME TO ACT. MY QUACKS WERE ALIGNED.

"Quacks?" Grey asked. "Oh, you mean ducks."
"So it was you in Mundania!" Ivy exclaimed.

IT WAS MY SENDING. I COULD NOT GO THERE, SO I SENT
MY ESSENCE. THERE WAS THAT KERNEL OF MAGIC ABOUT
GREY, EVEN THERE, SO IT WAS POSSIBLE TO ANIMATE HIS
MACHINE IN HIS PRESENCE. I DID NOT KNOW WHAT HAP-
PENED THERE, ONLY WHAT ITS CAPACITY WAS. IT WAS TO
ORIENT ON HIM AND MANIFEST ONLY WHEN HE WAS BE-
YOND THE AGE OF EIGHTEEN YEARS SO THAT HE WOULD
BE RIGHT FOR THE PRINCESS. THEN I SENT THE PRINCESS
TO HIM.

"The Heaven Cent sent me!" Ivy flared.

Man from Mundania        239

THE HEAVEN CENT SENT YOU TO WHERE YOU WERE MOST
NEEDED, WHICH I PREDEFINED AS THE LOCATION OF MA-
GICIAN MURPHY'S SON. IT WAS INTENDED THAT YOU MARRY
HIM.

"Our romance—arranged by the evil machine?" Ivy
asked, appalled.

LIVING FOLK ARE SUBJECT TO CERTAIN PATTERNS. I IN-
STITUTED ONE OF THOSE PATTERNS. NOW MURPHY'S SON
IS HERE, AND BOUND TO SERVE ME.

"I made no such deal!" Grey protested.

YOUR PARENTS DID. THEY NEVER INTENDED TO HONOR
IT, AND SO KEPT ALL KNOWLEDGE OF XANTH FROM YOU
SO YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO COME HERE. BUT I SENT MY
ESSENCE AND THEN SENT PRINCESS IVY TO BRING YOU
HERE, AND NOW YOU ARE BOUND, BECAUSE YOU HAVE
HONOR YOUR PARENTS LACK.

"They have honor!" Grey said. "They were trying to
save Xanth, even though they were exiled from it!"

"How do we know you're telling the truth, dim-bulb?"
Grundy demanded. "Maybe they never made that deal,
and you're just making it up in your pictures!"

I EXPECT GREY MURPHY TO RETURN TO MUNDANIA TO
VERIFY THIS. THEN HE WILL EITHER REMAIN THERE OR
RETURN TO XANTH AND HONOR THE DEAL.

Grey had the sick feeling that this was the truth. But
there was still much to be clarified. "So maybe I was
supposed to come to Xanth," he said. "Why was it so
important that I marry Ivy? I mean, I care about her, but
you don't care about either of us or about romance."

YES. YOU ARE ONLY TOOLS FOR MY AMBITION. YOU MUST
MARRY IVY AND BE QUEEN OF XANTH, OR EVEN KING,
SINCE YOUR MAGIC IS MAGICIAN CALIBER. EITHER WAY YOU
WILL HAVE GREAT INFLUENCE ON THE THRONE OR CON-
TROL IT ENTIRELY. SINCE YOU WILL BE SERVING ME, I WILL
BE THE TRUE RULER OF XANTH. THAT IS THE CULMINATION
OF MY PLOT.

Grey stared at Ivy, who looked back with the same hor-
ror he felt. The situation was clear at last: they could go
to Mundania together, or they could break their betrothal




240 Man from Mundania

and both remain in Xanth, or they could marry and do the
evil machine's will. None of those choices was acceptable.
"Oh, I wish the Good Magician was still here!" Ivy
exclaimed. "He would know what to do about this!"

HO HO HO! I GOT RID OF THE GOOD MAGICIAN AS PART
OF THIS PLOT! YOU CAN'T GET HIS ADVICE BECAUSE YOU
CAN'T FIND HIM, AND I WILL NEVER TELL WHERE HE is!

"You did that?" Ivy cried, enraged. "All that mischief,
all those un-Answered Questions, just to further your foul

plot?"

"I think you should put your hand on this collection of
junk and null it, Grey," Grundy said. "You won't have to
serve it if it doesn't operate any more."

THAT WOULD BE UNETHICAL, THEREFORE GREY MURPHY
WILL NOT DO IT.

Grey gritted his teeth. It was the truth.
"Oh, Grey," Ivy exclaimed, tears in her eyes. "What
are we going to do?"

YOU ARE GOING TO AGONIZE FOR A TIME, THEN VERIFY
THE ACCURACY OF MY STATEMENT, AND FINALLY CON-
FORM. YOU HAVE ONE MONTH FROM THIS MOMENT TO CON-
CLUDE YOUR BUSINESS AND RETURN TO ME. THEN I WILL
RULE XANTH. HO HO HO;

Grey was very much afraid that the evil machine was
correct.

Chapter 13. Murphy

^S

^yo that's the situation," Ivy concluded.
"Grey's a Magician, so I can marry him, but he is bound
to serve Com-Pewter, so I don't dare let him close to the
throne. And even if I don't marry him, he could later
become King of Xanth in his own right, and Pewter would
have power. The only way we can see to stop that is for
Grey to return to Mundania and stay there. Then Pewter's
deal would have no force."
King Dor nodded. "Is Grey willing to do that?"
"Yes. He doesn't want to hurt me or Xanth, and he has
the strength of his convictions."
Queen Irene leaned forward. "Then what of you. Ivy?"
Ivy had pondered this on the way home to Castle
Roogna, and seen the stark alternatives. Either she could
go with Grey and live in Mundania, or she could remain
in Xanth and not marry Grey. Neither choice was bear-
able.

Ivy burst into tears.

But later her parents had further thoughts. "We do not
know that what Pewter claims is the truth," Dor said.
"We should find out."

"But how?" Ivy asked, without more than half a glim-
mer of hope. "If it's not the truth, Pewter will never con-
fess it."

241




242

Man from Mundonia

Man from Mundania

243

"Magician Murphy might, though."

"But he's in Mundania!"

"You could visit there again and ask him."

Ivy's eyes widened. The notion of living in drear Mun-
dania was intolerable, but she could probably survive an-
other visit there.

But still it wasn't good enough. "Why should he tell
the truth? He opposes the existing order. That's why he's

exiled."

"No, actually," Dor said. "He stepped out of the pic-
ture because he had lost to King Roogna. He hoped to
return at some time when chances were better for him—
such as when there were no Magicians available to be
king. Then he could take over. But when he escaped from
the Brain Coral's storage pool, there were several Magi-
cians, so Xanth was still no place for him. Rather than
remain in storage indefinitely, he fled Xanth. If he for-
swore his ambition to become King of Xanth, he would
have no trouble here."

"But why should he forswear?"

Her father looked her in the eye. "If you were exiled
from Xanth for life and were offered the chance to return
if you agreed to forswear ever becoming king, would you

do it?"

Ivy thought about that. "Maybe so. But it's Grey who
is bound by the deal, not Magician Murphy, and it would
be no good having a Magician serving Pewter, even if he
never was king."

"Your mother and I have discussed this matter, and we
conclude that you have three options you may not have
considered. You can verify whether what Pewter says is
true; and if it is not, you are all right. Or you can bring
Magician Murphy back here to Xanth on condition that he
serve the existing order. Or—"

"Bring him here?" Ivy demanded incredulously. "The
man who tried to overthrow King Roogna, way back

when?"

"Or you can resume the search for Good Magician
Humfrey, and ask him how to deal with Pewter," Dor
concluded.

"How can you speak of bringing that Evil Magician
back? That would just make even more mischief here and
wouldn't solve any problems for me and Grey.''

Her father explained. Ivy stared. "Do you really think
that would work?"

' 'If it does not, then it may be safe to say that nothing
else will."

She had to concede his point. It was a faint and devious
hope, but it was the best thing available.

She would visit Mundania, and talk with Magician Mur-
phy, and perhaps invite him back to Xanth.

They set out at dawn: Ivy, Grey, and designated chap-
erone Electra. The title thrilled her, and she promised to
spy on anything the betrotheds might try to do together.

They rode on three fine steeds: Electra was on Donkey,
who was now nicely recovered from his captivity with the
goblins. Grey rode Pook, the ghost horse. Ivy rode Peek,
Pook's ghost mare. The ghost colt. Puck, trotted cheer-
fully along beside. All three animals had chains wrapped
around their barrels, for that was their nature. They had
been befriended by Jordan the Barbarian some four hun-
dred plus years before, and though they remained wild,
Ivy had enhanced their lameness and they were glad to
serve in this temporary capacity.

They made excellent time, trotting most of the way, but
the length of Xanth was not traveled in a day and they had
to camp along the north coast. The ghost horses wandered
into the night to graze; they ate ghost grass, which was
invisible to normally living folk, but Ivy could hear the
tiny clinks as the little chains on it rattled.

They walked down to the beach and saw the heaving
sea. This was a designated camping place, so the safety
enchantment was on it; no monsters or evil plants could
intrude here. But Grey started to walk down a path that
crossed the magic line.

"Grey! Where are you going?" Ivy called, alarmed.

"I, uh, have to, you know," he said, embarrassed.

"But you're walking down a tangle tree path! If you
cross the line and walk into the clutches of the tree—"




244 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 245

He smiled. "I, uh, maybe you forgot my talent."

"Ooopsy! I did forget!" she said, embarrassed in her
turn. "You have nothing to fear from tanglers!"

"Uh, right," he agreed. He walked on down the path.

Curious, she watched. Sure enough, the tangler was
quiescent until Grey came within reach. Then it grabbed.
Its hanging green tentacles whipped around Grey's body—
and abruptly fell away, limp. He brushed on through. After
he was done there, he would restore the tree's magic—and
if it was a smart tree, it would not bother him again.

Ivy really hadn't thought about this aspect very much,
but now she realized that she was as safe with Grey as it
was possible to be, because nothing magic could hurt
them. That included just about everything in Xanth. Grey
could nullify magic partly, or not at all, or even enhance
it by the rebound effect. Thus he could use or not use
magic, as he chose, to the degree he chose. He really was
a Magician, whose power matched her own.

They were well matched in other respects, too. Grey
had loved her though he did not believe that she had magic
or that she was a princess. She had loved Grey though she
thought him Mundane. Now each understood what the
other was, and it was wonderful. Yet it was all a plot by
Com-Pewter, and that made it awful. How near and yet
how far!

The waves rose up ahead of her, forming odd shapes.
She realized that she had been unconsciously enhancing
the magic of the sea as she stood there musing about Grey.
Now the water was glowing, and the spume was forming
faces.

Curious, she enhanced it further. Soon a big wave took
shape and held its position. Its frothy eyes stared out at
her, and its little whirlpool of a mouth opened. ' 'Beee-
waare!" it splashed.

Ivy's own mouth dropped open. It had spoken to her!

Why would a wave try to do such a thing? Did it like
being Enhanced?

Electra and Donkey approached, quietly. ' 'It's warning
us about something," Electra murmured. "We'd better
find out what!"

Ivy agreed. She concentrated, giving the wave her best
Enhancement. "Beware of what?" she called, uncertain
whether it could hear or understand her. She tried to en-
hance its hearing and understanding, but knew there were
limits.

"Paaath oooouut!" the wave replied. Then it collapsed
back into mere water.

"The path is out?" Electra asked. "Maybe a storm
washed out the dirt?"

"We should readily see that," Donkey said. "It really
did not require such a dramatic warning.

"Maybe the wave isn't very smart," Electra said.

"Still, it meant well," Ivy said. She had never talked
to a wave before; that sort of thing was her father's talent.
Could she now Enhance inanimate things too? Or had she
always been able to without realizing it?

She cupped her mouth with her hand. "Thank you,
Wave," she called. "We shall beware the path."

A surge of bubbly water washed up around her feet, as
if licking them.

Grey returned. They gathered breadfruit and butter-
balls, and even found an eye scream bush with several
flavors of confection.

They settled for the night. Ivy wanted to sleep beside
Grey, but chaperone Electra was right there watching, ea-
ger to catch them at anything that smacked even faintly of
stork. Ivy wasn't sure whether the girl was moved more
strongly by duty or curiosity. She remembered how curi-
ous she herself had been about the business of stork sum-
moning. In the last year or so she had finally succeeded
in piecing together diverse bits of information and, aided
by strong hints from Nada, had pretty much solved the
riddle. She believed she would be able to summon the
stork when the time came. But she had no intention of
doing so before she got married. Now she was part of the
Adult Conspiracy, obliged to hide the information from
children—and Electra was still mostly a child, despite her
love for Dolph and her betrothal to him.

So she piled her pillows and blankets and bedded down




246 Man from Mundania

by herself, and Grey did likewise, though she would so
much rather have hugged him to sleep.

In the morning the ghost horses returned, and they re-
sumed their journey. Not far up the path. Peek lifted her
nose and sniffed. Pook and Puck did likewise, evidently
disturbed by something.

"That warning," Donkey said. "Do you think this is
where the path is out?"

"It looks firm to me," Grey said. They had told him of
the wave warning.

They went on, cautiously. The path was whole, entirely
normal. But the three ghost horses remained skittish,
which was unusual for them.

They rounded a turn—and there was a huge land dragon
straddling the path. It was a smoker, with clouds of deep
gray smoke wafting back from its nostrils.

Grey, in the lead on Pook, came to a sudden halt. "I
thought you said this path was enchanted!" he exclaimed.

Ivy, next in line, stopped as suddenly. "It is! No pred-
ator is supposed to be able to intrude!"

The dragon formed a toothsome grin. Obviously it had
another opinion.

"Well, I'll just null it," Grey said.

"Watch the smoke!" Ivy warned. "It can blind you and
choke you before you get close!"

"Pook can get me there before the dragon gets its smoke
really up," Grey said. "It won't be expecting us to charge
it." He patted the ghost horse. "You do believe in my
power?''

Pook nodded, though a trifle uncertainly. He had been
told of it, but had not seen it demonstrated.

There was a roar from the rear. Ivy looked back. There
was another dragon, like the first but slightly smaller.
Surely the smoker's mate! "It's a trap!" she cried. "They
have boxed us in!"

Electra, on Donkey, was third in line. "We'll take this
one!" she cried.

"No!" Ivy screamed. "You can't—"

Man from Mundania

247

But now both dragons roared horrendously. Smoke bil-
lowed, for the moment masking them.

"Now!" Grey called. "While they're drawing breath!"

"But—" Ivy started, flustered.

Pook charged forward, and Donkey charged back. Ivy
was left in mid protest in the middle.

Grey disappeared into the cloud of smoke. She knew he
could null the dragon if he got close enough to touch it,
and at the rate the ghost horse was going they would not
just touch but collide. It was Electra who needed help.

Peek, responding to Ivy's decision, whirled and gal-
loped back. The smoke was thinning. She saw the fuzzy
outline of Electra strike the dragon on the sooty snoot.
The dragon blinked, shocked. But Ivy knew that Electra's
charge could not knock out a dragon this size; it would
only set it back a moment. Then there would be real trou-
ble.

As Ivy reached them. Donkey was kicking the dragon's
head with his hind hooves. The dragon, still jolted by the
electric shock, was not moving, but the hoof strikes were
only rattling its head, not making it retreat.

Still, it was an idea. "I'll Enhance you," Ivy told Peek.
"You turn about and deliver your hardest kick to its chin.
Don't miss!"

She concentrated on Enhancing Peek's power of kick. She
imagined the hooves as having the same hardness as the
metal chains, and the legs having enormous power. This
would be some kick!

Peek turned, threw down her head, and let go with a
phenomenal two-hoof kick. It connected. Ivy felt the
shock; it jolted her teeth. Was it enough?

Peek's feet came down. She turned again. They both
looked, and so did Electra and Donkey.

The dragon was flat on its back, its tail twitching. Peek's
double-hooved kick had flipped the monster all the way
over, and knocked it out. The kick had indeed been
enough!

Grey and Pook trotted up. "The front dragon is uncon-
scious," Grey reported. "And so is this one, by the look
of it."




248 Man from Mundania

"But how did they get on the enchanted path?" Electra
asked.

"Now I think I understand," Donkey said. "The wave's
warning: the spell on the path is out! So it isn't safe, in
this section."

All three ghost horses nodded. They had known it, but
had been unable to speak their knowledge.

"But the spell was set by Good Magician Humfrey,"
Ivy said. "He wouldn't let anything happen to it!"

"Not if he were still around," Electra said. "But he's
been gone for seven years."

Ivy felt stupid. Of course the Good Magician was gone;

it was Dolph's Quest for him that had introduced him to
Nada and Electra, and Ivy's Quest for him that had intro-
duced her to Grey. Now other folk could tinker with his
spells with impunity. "We've got to get him back!" she
muttered.

"There must be a counterspell here," Electra said. "To
cancel out the path enchantment. So the monsters can get
in."

"Then maybe I can null it," Grey said. "Except I don't
know how to relate to it."

"I'll Enhance your ability to relate," Ivy said. "Then
maybe you can null it."

He shrugged. "It's worth a try."

They dismounted and took each other's hands. "You're
Holding Hands!" Electra exclaimed. "I'm going to Re-
port that!"

"If you do, I'll report that time you sneaked into my
little brother's room and held his hand while he was sleep-
ing," Ivy said darkly.

Electra looked so abashed that Ivy, Grey, and Donkey
burst out laughing. One of the charming things about Elec-
tra was that she retained so much of the innocence of
childhood.

Ivy concentrated on Grey's power of relation. She felt
something happening, but wasn't sure what. Then there
was a moment of vertigo.

"Got it!" Grey said. "The source of the problem is

Man from Mundania        249

over there." He walked to the side of the path. "This—
bit of wood?" he asked, picking it up.

"That's reverse wood!" Ivy exclaimed. "It must have
reversed the enchantment on the path, right here near it,
so the dragons could get in!"

"Well, I'll null it, then."

"Don't do that!" Ivy said quickly. "Suppose it reversed
your talent?"

"But we can't leave the path unprotected!"
"Just throw the wood away," Donkey suggested. "It

won't do any harm if it's not in the path."
Grey wound up and hurled the wood far to the side.

Immediately the three ghost horses reacted, relaxing. The

two unconscious dragons stirred. Each dragged itself up

and scrambled away from the path.

"Problem solved," Donkey said with satisfaction.
"But there never would have been a problem if the Good
Magician were still around," Ivy said. "As soon as we
settle our personal problem, we'll have to resume the Quest
for him. We can't continue much longer without him."

"If we could find him, maybe he could settle all our
personal questions," Electra said.

Ivy nodded. Electra had a problem that was just as se-
rious as Ivy's own! When Dolph came of age to marry,
and had to choose which of his betrothees actually to
marry, he was very likely to choose Nada. Then Electra
would die, having failed to marry the Prince who had res-
cued her from her enchanted sleep.

Unless Grey could nullify the spell on her. Ivy pondered
that. Could it represent the solution for Electra? She hes-
itated to mention it until she was sure. Magic did not

always work the way expected, and mistakes could be di-
sastrous.

They reached the isthmus. This was as far as their steeds
could go, for magical creatures would soon perish when
out of the magic of Xanth. Donkey would keep watch for
their return to this spot, and the ghost horses would come
at his whistle. The final station on the enchanted path was
a nice one, with useful plants of all kinds and an excellent




250 Man from Mundcmia

view of the changing colors of the sea. Donkey said he
expected to enjoy his stay here.

The colors of the sea related to the times and places of
Mundania that the folk of Xanth could go to. Scholars
such as Ichabod, the Mundane archivist, and Amolde
Centaur had taken the trouble to study it and to issue vo-
luminous reports that entirely defined it. Unfortunately,
no one else was able to understand the reports. Most of
what Ivy knew about the colors was that when the sea
turned black, it led to the Black Sea of Mundania, where
her parents had gone to rescue Grandpa Trent and
Grandma Iris, ages ago.

This time they were not going to mess with the colors
at all. Grey simply nulled the magic of the border, and
they walked through to what was called Contemporary
Mundania, which was where Grey had lived. They knew
it was right, because their entry through the gourd in No
Name Key had also bypassed the magical barrier.

Thus the three of them found themselves stumbling
through drear brush in drear Mundania, and onto one of
the paved regions called highways, though in truth they
were low rather than high. Now Ivy and Electra could talk
to each other, but not to Grey, because Grey had been
raised with the nonsensical language of the Mundanes.

Grey demonstrated the magic of the thumb signal, to
make one of the cruising vehicles screech to a precipitous
halt. It didn't work very well until Ivy enhanced it slightly
by hiking up her skirt to show more leg. Then a monstrous
truck squealed to a stop, providing their first ride.

They let Grey do the talking, since they could not. Ivy
exchanged hand signals with Grey when she needed to,
and quietly pointed out the few interesting things to Elec-
tra, such as the odd boxlike buildings and colored lights
that always flashed bright red when the vehicle ap-
proached.

So it went, for an interminable journey along the as-
sorted and confused roads of this dull realm. They found
a public sleeping place called a bus station for the night;

the seats were not at all suited to comfortable sleeping,
but this was only another evidence of the craziness of

Man from Mundania        251

Mundanes. Ivy had to show Electra how to use the facil-
ities in the room for natural functions, and the girl was
appropriately awed. "How can they use perfectly good
drinking water for such a thing?" she demanded in a whis-
per. "Suppose somebody forgets and drinks it?" Ivy had
no answer; there was simply no explaining much of what
the Mundanes did.

As they stood before one of the strange unmagic mirrors
Ivy was surprised to notice how tall Electra had grown.
She was now as tall as Ivy, and looked mature, too. Ivy
realized that she had been too preoccupied with her own
concerns to pay much attention; Electra would have been
maturing all along. It had taken the stark mirror that

showed them standing together to make Ivy appreciate the
extent of it.

Grey got bits of wrapped food from the lighted standing
machines; he had saved some of their Mundane coins for
this purpose. Apparently the machines liked the taste of
metal better than real food and would give up their food
for it. Ivy had seen this on her last trip here, but Electra
was amazed. "When do the machines eat the food they
trade for the metal?" she asked. "Why don't they just eat
the metal to begin with, if they don't like the food?"
Again, Ivy could not answer.

They slept propped against Grey on either side, his arms
around each. Ivy wondered whether this was at all like her
brother's situation, with two betrothees. Innocent Dolph
would be satisfied to marry them both, the one out of
compassion, the other out of love. But the parents had said
No, No Way, Definitely Not, Absolutely Out of the Ques-
tion, and Never, so it seemed likely that they would op-
pose such a solution. Too bad, for Nada and Electra were
both so nice.

They finally reached Grey's apartment. It was hardly too
soon, for Electra wasn't feeling well. She had been eating
ravenously, never seeming to get enough, and had grown
somewhat short tempered and absentminded. She was also
quite dirty, so that she hardly looked herself.

Ivy had not liked this place before, but now it was bless-




252

ediy familiar. Her own room was unchanged, with plenty
of Agenda's food still on the shelves. She encouraged
Electra to eat what she wanted, and to clean up and don
one of the dresses in the closet, so she could be present-
able again. Then she went across the hall with Grey.

Com-Pewter's Sending remained; as soon as he turned
the machine on, they were able to talk naturally again. It
was a great relief.

SO YOU BROUGHT SOMEONE ELSE FROM XANTH, the

screen remarked.

"Yes, this is Electra, our chaperone," Grey said, as
Electra appeared at the door, cleaned and changed.

YES, IT IS PROPER TO HAVE AN OLDER PERSON IN THAT
CAPACITY.

"Oh, she's not older!" Ivy protested. But then she took
another look at Electra, and was amazed: the giri did look
older, like a woman of thirty or so. She had assumed that
it was dirt and wear on the clothing that had changed her
appearance, but now it was clear that those things had only
masked the true extent of the change. How could this be?

Grey, too, was surprised. "Electra, you're bigger and
older and, uh, fuller," he said. "Your new clothing makes
you look so awfully old! What happened?"

SHE is YOUNG? the screen inquired. WHAT is HER HIS-
TORY?

"She's actually from about nine hundred years ago,"
Ivy said. "A spell fouled up, and she slept until the pres-
ent, but she remained the same age until she woke. Until
now."

IT WAS FOOLISH TO BRING HER TO MUNDANIA, the SCTWIt

said. SHE is NOW IN THE PROCESS OF ATTAINING HER MUN-
DANE AGE OF NINE HUNDRED YEARS.

The three exchanged portions of a glance of sheer hor-
ror. "Oh, Electra, we never thought!" Ivy cried. "We
knew the magic folk couldn't come here—"

"It is of course my own fault," Electra said with sur-
prising maturity. "Naturally I should have realized that
this would be the case. I shall try to handle it in an adult
manner."

Man from Mundania        253

She was older emotionally, too! She was aging in every
way.

"How long before she, uh—?" Grey asked.

AT THE PRESENT RATE OF PROGRESSION, SHE SHOULD
HAVE ABOUT THREE MORE DAYS BEFORE BEGINNING TO FAIL

FROM OLD AGE, the screen printed.

"We've got to get her back to Xanth!" Ivy exclaimed.
"Patience," Electra demurred sensibly. "It required
two days for us to reach this destination; two days should
suffice for the return. We can accomplish our business in
the intervening day. I see no reason to jeopardize our mis-
sion merely because of my indisposition."

"Your indisposition!" Ivy exclaimed. "By the time we
get back to Xanth, you'll be an old woman! How could
you marry Dolph then?"

Electra smiled with the poise of maturity. ' 'That would
seem to solve my problem, wouldn't it? Of course I would
not require the child to marry a harridan."

HAVE NO CONCERN, the screen printed. IN THE RE-
NEWED AMBIENCE OF MAGIC SHE WILL REVERT AT THE
SAME RATE SHE AGED, UNTIL SHE RESUMES HER POINT OF
EQUILIBRIUM FOR THAT ENVIRONMENT.

"Oh, 'Lectra!" Ivy exclaimed, much relieved. She
opened her arms to hug her friend, then saw how strange
the older woman looked, and fell back. This might be the
same person as her friend, but it was hard to accept emo-
tionally.

"Your reaction is perfectly understandable," Electra
said tolerantly. If she was hurt, she masked it with the
competence for which adults were notorious. Ivy felt very
small and grubby, inside.

"We'd better, uh, go see my folks," Grey said. "They
live in Squeedunk, about sixty miles from here. I went to
City College because it was the closest one that gave a
tuition break for state residents, but it was too far to com-
mute. There's a daily bus, but its schedule is calculated to
make it useless, and it always runs late anyway."
"But we have to do this in one day!" Ivy said.
"We could take a taxi, if I had the money, but—"




254 Man from Mundania

THERE IS AN EMERGENCY RESERVE FUND THAT WILL
COVER THIS.

Ivy looked at the screen suspiciously. ' 'Why are you
being so helpful. Pewter? You know we don't like you!"

I AM NOT PEWTER. I AM MERELY A SENDING SENT TO
DO PEWTER'S BIDDING. IT IS MY TASK TO FACILITATE THE
LIAISON BETWEEN GREY MURPHY AND PRINCESS IVY, AND
YOUR CONSULTATION WITH MAGICIAN MURPHY WILL ES-
TABLISH YOUR SITUATION. THE MONEY IS IN THE DISK
MAILER UNDER MY MONITOR.

Grey looked under the screen. He found the mailer
there. Behind the floppy disk was a packet of money he
hadn't noticed before, hidden until he looked for it. He
nodded. "This will do it."

But Ivy wasn't quite satisfied. "So, Sending, you're not
the same as Pewter? What do you get out of this?"

DATA INSUFFICIENT.

"Don't give me that!" she snapped. "You know exactly
what I mean! Bad folk never do things just because they're
supposed to; they always have something to gain."

DATA INSUFFICIENT.

Electra stepped in. "What she means to say, Sending,
is that it would facilitate her liaison with Grey Murphy if
she had just a bit more information. She is so constituted
that she tends to distrust what she does not understand,
and that may prejudice her relationship with her fiance's
parents and therefore with Grey as well. Since your par-
ticipation is integral, your separate input is necessary so
that the mission will not be compromised."

CLARIFICATION ACCEPTED.

Ivy kept her mouth shut. Electra's new maturity was
coming in handy!

"Normally each party to an agreement receives an
emolument appropriate to his participation," Electra con-
tinued incomprehensibly. "What is your reward in the
event the mission is successful?"

RETURN TO XANTH.

"And what is your penalty in the event the mission is
unsuccessful?"

CONFINEMENT TO MUNDANIA.

Mon from Mundanio

255

Electra looked benignly crafty in the way that only an
adult could. "As it happens, we are shortly to return to
Xanth. We might take you with us, so that you would have
no further need to gamble on the outcome of the mission
for your own resolution, if you were to cooperate with
us."

The screen flickered. ARE YOU ATTEMPTING TO BRIBE
ME?

Again that crafty adult smile. "Parties of conscience
neither proffer nor accept unwarranted remuneration. They
merely come to reasonable understandings."

WHAT DO YOU REQUIRE?

"Information on how Ivy may marry Grey without be-
ing required either to support his commitment of servitude
to Com-Pewter or to exile herself with him in Mundania.''

I DO NOT KNOW HOW THE DEAL WITH COM-PEWTER CAN
BE ABROGATED, BUT THERE IS A STRATEGY THAT WILL AC-
COMPLISH THIS IF IT IS POSSIBLE. WILL INFORMATION ON
THAT STRATEGY SATISFY YOUR REQUIREMENT?

Electra looked at Ivy. "The Sending is ready to deal. I
think this is the best it can offer. How do you feel?"

Ivy had hardly followed the preceding dialogue. It
seemed to her that neither Electra nor Sending had said
anything intelligible, yet somehow they seemed to under-
stand each other. "It will help us if we help it?"

"It will tell us what to do to get around Pewter's plot,
if it is possible to get around it."

"Then make the deal!" Ivy exclaimed gladly.

Electra returned to the screen. "That information will
satisfy our requirement. How may we most expeditiously
facilitate your transport to Xanth?"

TAKE MY OISK.

Grey went to a small box. "The original Vaporware
Limited disk is here. We can carry it with us with no
trouble at all."

"But in Xanth, how will the Sending animate?" Ivy
asked. "Doesn't it need a screen or something?"

THERE ARE MAGIC SCREENS IN XANTH. YOU MAY DE-
POSIT ME WITH ANY ONE OF THOSE. ONE IS IN THE ISTH-
MUS.




256        Man from Mundania

"We'll do it," Ivy agreed, pleased. "Now, what's your
strategy?"

RETURN MAGICIAN MURPHY TO XANTH, AFTER OBTAIN-
ING HIS AGREEMENT TO EXERT HIS TALENT ON YOUR
BEHALF.

"But his talent is to make things foul up!" Ivy pro-
tested.

Now Grey caught on. "But he controls it, doesn't he?
He makes the side he's against foul up! And if he's against
Com-Pewter's plot—"

"It might foul up!" Ivy concluded. "And then we'd be

all right!"

Grey tucked the disk box into a small suitcase, and Ivy
added some Mundane clothing. Electra ate some more
from the food on the shelves. Then they set out for Squee-
dunk.

The Murphy's house was typical of Mundane resi-
dences: neat, clean, and drear. Ivy wondered how they
had been able to stand it all these years. But of course they
had had no choice; no one in Mundania did. If Mundanes
could escape Mundania, they would all move to Xanth!

The taxi let them off, after Grey paid the cabbie. The
dour driver looked almost satisfied as he drove away. "I
gave him a twenty-five percent tip," Grey explained,
touching her hand. Ivy smiled just as if she understood
what this was. In fact, she was surprised that she could
understand any of his words, now that they were away
from Sending's screen. Then she realized that they had
Sending along, in the disk. The machine's power was di-
minished, but when Ivy touched Grey she could under-
stand him.

They walked up the walk, and Grey knocked on the
door. A pudgy woman opened it. "Npuifs!" Grey ex-
claimed, hugging her.

"Hsfz—xibu bsfzpv epjoh ifsf?" she asked, surprised.
"Eje zpv gbjm Gsftinbo Fohmjti?"

"Opu fybdumz," he responded. "Mppi, Nb, uijt jt
dpnqmjdbufe. J'mm fyqmbjm fwfszuijoh."

They were ushered inside, and introduced as "Jwz"

Man from Mundania        257

and "Pmfdusb." Then they sat on the worn, comfortable
couch, and Ivy made sure to sit right next to Grey and put
her hand on his suitcase, so that she could understand what
he was saying.

Grey's father was old. Ivy remembered from Pewter's
pictures that Magician Murphy had been of middle age
when he and Vadne escaped from Xanth, and this was
nineteen years later, so his age wasn't surprising. Grey's
mother was of middle age, no longer young, and had
gained a fair amount of weight. It really would have been
hard to distinguish this couple from any other Mundanes,
but increasingly she was able to see the remnants of the
folk they once had been. It was really too bad what two
decades of Mundane life could do to folk!

"First," Grey said, "I have to tell you that I now know
about Xanth." Both his parents stiffened, remaining ex-
pressionless; this was evidently a secret they had pre-
served throughout. "I know about the deal you made with
Com-Pewter, and why you never told me about it. It was
because you didn't want me to go there and have to serve
the machine.''

The parents exchanged a Mundanish glance. "Zft," the
Magician said. Ivy needed no translation; he had just con-
firmed the thing they had come to confirm.

"But Com-Pewter didn't leave it to chance," Grey said.
"It sent a Sending, who brought me Ivy, here, from Xanth.
She is the daughter of King Dor and Queen Irene, and is
a Sorceress in her own right." He paused. "And—she is
my fiancee.''

They stared at Ivy incredulously. Ivy nodded, feeling
abruptly choked.

After a long moment, Vadne fumbled for a handkerchief
and dabbed at her eyes. Then she stood and opened her
arms to Ivy.

Ivy got up and went to her and embraced her. There
was a thing about betrothals that women understood on a
level men did not. The language didn't matter.

Then the language did. "Zpv—You are really of
Xanth?" Vadne asked slowly.




258

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

259

Ivy was startled. She was speaking intelligibly! "Yes, I
am. But how can you—?"

Vadne smiled. "I came from Xanth too," she reminded
her, still piecing out the long-unused words. "For almost
twenty years I have not dared to speak—we had to learn
Mundanish—"

"Oh, of course! It must have been horrible!"

"Horrible," Vadne agreed. "Except for Grey. He was
our joy, even here."

Grey was looking at them, puzzled. "Oh—he hears us
talking in Xanthian!" Ivy said. "He can't speak it, with-
out magic!"

"We never taught him," Vadne agreed. "We eschewed
Xanth, so that he would never learn. But now—"

"Tell him I'll tell the rest," Ivy said.

"There is more?" Vadne asked, surprised.

"Much more."

Vadne turned to Grey. "Qsjodftt Jwz xjmm ufmm vt
uif sftu, efbs," she said pleasantly. He looked disgrun-
tled, but did not object. Probably he was dismayed to dis-
cover that Ivy could converse with his parents in a language
he could not, but he realized the sense of it.

"You see. Grey helped me get back to Xanth," Ivy
explained brightly. "He didn't believe in it, but he liked
me, so he helped me. Then I took him in, and by the time
he came to believe in magic, we, well, we were betrothed.
Then we discovered he had magic himself, in fact he was
a Magician—"

"Xibu?" Murphy demanded, astonished.

"A Magician," Ivy repeated. "You see, you, well, yoa
summoned the stork for him in Xanth, so he was Xan-
thian, and we think maybe your going to Mundania before
the stork delivered him affected his talent, so now he can
null magic, even mine, so he's a Magician of Null Magic.
Anyway, my folks said I couldn't marry him unless he had
a talent, and so now we can marry. But we wondered how
a Mundane could have a talent, and when we found out,
we learned about Com-Pewter and the deal you made to
get out of Xanth. But we think maybe there's a way around
it."

"Wait—wait," Vadne said, seeming dizzy. "We thought
he might have magic, but this—this is all so sudden!"

"So what we want to do is bring you back to Xanth,"
Ivy continued blithely. "Because Magician Murphy's tal-
ent—well, if he would promise to serve the existing order
and foul up Pewter instead of my father—1 mean, I know
he wanted to be king, but that was a long time ago."

Murphy and Vadne were staring at her. "But we are
banned!" Murphy said. "We would be put back in the
Brain Coral's pool!"

"You weren't really banned," Ivy said. "You just
thought the current folk would be mad at you, and I guess
they are, because your curse really messed up my little
brother, but if you promised not to do it anymore—"

"You don't understand," Vadne said. "In a fit of jeal-
ousy I turned a girl into a book, and wouldn't turn her
back. That's why I'm banned."

"Oh—Millie the Ghost," Ivy said, remembering. "But
she's alive now, and so is the Zombie Master, and they
have twin children. I think they would forgive you, if you
asked. Anyway, if Magician Murphy used his talent to
make things go wrong for Com-Pewter, maybe Grey could
somehow get out of that deal and then we could marry
and stay in Xanth. I'm sure my father would say it's all
right, because he doesn't want me to have to leave Xanth
or anything. So if you will agree to come, and renounce
your claim to the throne—"

"I renounced it when I fled Xanth," Murphy said fer-
vently. "I would give anything to return!"

"And so would I!" Vadne agreed as fervently. "We
have dreamed of Xanth constantly, but never spoken of
it."

"But we have to go right away," Ivy said. "Because
Electra here is aging and we have to get 'her back. She's
actually fifteen years old, in Xanth."

Both turned to stare at Electra. "It is true," Electra
said. "Your curse. Magician Murphy, caused me to sleep
for nine hundred years or so—I never was sure about the
exact count—and wake at the age I went to sleep. But now




260

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

261

I am out of the magic, and those nine hundred years are

taking effect."

"My curse?" Murphy asked. "I did not curse any chil-
dren!"

"I was with the Sorceress Tapis, who opposed you on

the Isle of View."

"Oh, now I remember! There were two or three girls

with her, one very pretty—"

"That was Millie the Maid or the Princess; both were
beautiful. I was the nothing girl."

Murphy's brow furrowed. "And you come to ask me to
return to Xanth? I would think you would hate me."

"Not exactly. Your curse caused me to become be-
trothed to a handsome young Prince. Of course I will die
if he doesn't marry me, but it has been very nice knowing
him and Ivy. So I believe you did as much good for me,
in your devious fashion, as evil. I really hold no grudge,
though I would not want to suffer your curse again.''

Murphy considered. "Would you accept my apology for
the evil I did you?"

"Of course. But I am at present in a mature state; I
might feel otherwise in my normal childish state."

"Then I will wait to proffer my apology until you return
to that childish state, and shall meditate on ways to ame-
liorate the predicament you are in. Perhaps my talent can
be turned to the benefit of others beside my son."

"Then you'll come?" Ivy asked, excited.

"We will both come, and ask your father for permission
to stay, and suffer what consequences there may be,"
Murphy said. "I am sure I speak for my wife too when I
say that we shall do all in our power to make amends for
the mischief we have done, if only we are permitted to
return and remain in Xanth."

"Then it's decided!" Ivy said. "But we must hurry,
because we have only two days to get Electra back."

"We can do it in one," Murphy said. "I have a car."

"But the house, the arrangements—we can't just leave!"

Vadne protested.

"Phone your friend next door and tell her the house is

hers until we return. If we are accepted in Xanth, we will

never return."

Vadne nodded. She hurried to the strange Mundane in-
strument called the telephone.

Within an hour they were on their way, the five of them
piled into the Murphy's car, with some sandwiches and
milk that Vadne had packed for the trip. The car zoomed
along the road at a dizzying speed, in much the way the
taxi had, somehow avoiding collisions with all the other
cars that zoomed by in the opposite direction, almost close
enough to touch.

They drove the rest of the day and didn't stop at night.
Now the bright lights of the other cars flashed in the dark-
ness, making Ivy even more nervous. But when she
glanced at Electra and saw her visibly older, she knew
that speed was best.

Ivy did not realize she had fallen asleep until she was
awakened by a bumping jolt. "We have run out of road,"
Magician Murphy said. "We shall have to continue on
foot."

They piled out and started walking. Magician Murphy
had a flashlight, which in Mundania had the odd property
of sending out a conical beam of light. They marched on
into the region that was the Isthmus of Xanth, Ivy leading,
because she was the one who was native to the time of
Xanth they had left. That meant she could lead them back
to it. If someone from another time of Xanth led, they
would return to his or her time, which could be another
matter.

Then Ivy heard a voice calling in the distance. "Who
is there?"

That was Donkey! "Ivy is here!" she called back.

They oriented on the centaur, and soon joined forces.
They were back in Xanth. Ivy felt an enormous relief; she
had not realized how nervous she had been about this until
they were clear of drear Mundania. How could she ever
hope to survive there for a lifetime?

"But why did you bring three Mundanes?" Donkey
asked. "And where is Electra?"

The middle-aged woman who was Electra stepped up to




262 Man from Mundania

him. "I have put on some years, but I will lose them
again, if you have patience."

"It is you!" he exclaimed, dismayed. "What hap-
pened?"

"I forgot I was nine hundred years old, in Mundane
terms," she said with a wry smile. "It has been an inter-
esting experience that I hope will soon be over."

Then Ivy introduced Magician Murphy and Vadne. "We
shall have a problem, as we do not have steeds for all,"
she said. "We may have to break into two parties, one
fast, one slow."

"My wife arid I will be happy to take our time," Mur-
phy said. "It has been so long, it will take us time to

acclimatize."

"And I would prefer to wait until I am back to my
normal state," Electra said.

"I will be happy to remain until you do," Donkey of-
fered.

"Then suppose Grey and I ride ahead on the ghost
horses, and the rest of you proceed more slowly down the
enchanted path," Ivy said. "By the time you arrive, ev-
erything should be normal, and Castle Roogna will be
prepared to receive you."

That turned out to be satisfactory to them all, and it was

decided.

But first they had to deliver Sending to a screen, as they
had promised. "Oh, certainly; there is an artifact of that
description nearby," Donkey said. "I explored this region
thoroughly while watching for your return." He led them
to the place.

It turned out to be a polished slab of stone, with a deep
crack at one side. Grey put the disk in the crack, and the
stone glowed. Print appeared. DEAL CONSUMMATED, it

said.

"But what is there for you to do, way out here in no-
where?" Ivy asked.

FIRST I MUST CAPTURE AN INVISIBLE GIANT, the Screen

printed. THEN i MUST PRACTICE CONTROLLED VARIANTS OF

REALITY. IN TIME I MAY BE ABLE TO FASHION AN EMPIRE
AND CHALLENGE MY SIRE FOR MASTERY OF XANTH.

Man from Mundania        263

Ivy exchanged the remainder of her supply of glances
with Grey. "Uh, how long will this take?" he inquired.

PERHAPS AS LITTLE AS THREE HUNDRED YEARS, DE-
PENDING ON CIRCUMSTANCES.

"Surely you can do it faster than that!" Grey said en-
couragingly.

NOT SO. I CALCULATED FOR OPTIMUM CONDITIONS. IT IS
MORE LIKELY TO FALL IN THE RANGE OF TEN TO THE THIRD
POWER TO TEN TO THE FOURTH POWER YEARS. FORTU-
NATELY I AM A PATIENT DEVICE.

"That is fortunate," Ivy agreed. "I hope my own quest
is even more fortunate."

YOUR QUEST SHOULD BE RESOLVED WITHIN THE MONTH.

"Thank you. Sending," she said, pleased. But then she
remembered that this was the time limit Com-Pewter had
set for Grey to wrap up his other business before coming
to serve. Sending must have realized this.

Then, as they rode the ghost horses on down the path,
she asked Grey: "What is ten to the third power?"

"A thousand," he said. "That's one of the few things
I remember from college math, which is almost as bad a
course as Freshman English."

"You poor thing! But you may never have to suffer ei-
ther of those torments again, if we resolve our quest within
a month."

"But Sending didn't say which way it would be re-
solved."

"Oooops!" Her pleasure converted mystically to uncer-
tainty. They still didn't know how to get around Grey's
obligation to Com-Pewter. Their trip to Mundania had
confirmed the worst, but offered them a chance to nullify
it. That was all: a chance. If Magician Murphy could make
something go wrong with Com-Pewter's plot.

"I hope your father's curses are as potent as they were
nine hundred years ago!" Ivy said.

"I know he'll do the very best he can for me," Grey
replied. "My parents—they haven't always gotten along
well together, but they were always good to me. I never
really understood their ways, I think, until I saw Com-
Pewter's flashback scene. I only knew that despite their




264 Man from Mundania

arguments, they had some mysterious and powerful reason
to stay together. Now I know that it was their shared vision
of Xanth, about which they could never speak. For me
and for Xanth—they will do anything. I know that abso-
lutely. And—"

"And you're glad they will be here," she finished for
him. "So your family is together."

"I'm glad," he agreed with feeling. "Maybe my par-
ents were evil before, but they aren't now."

"Make sure you explain that to my parents!" she said,
laughing. But underneath she remained in deep doubt. It
was such a slender straw they were grasping at. If it failed,
what would become of them?

Chapter I4« Prophesy

^rey saw that Ivy was pensive, and under-
stood why. Nothing had been decided, and there was no
guarantee. Magician Murphy's curses had evidently been
extremely potent in the distant past, but this was now, not
the past, and the Magician was almost twenty years out of
practice. In those intervening years he had been simply
Major Murphy, a Mundane office worker who earned just
enough Mundane money to avoid poverty. He had been
fortunate in finding an employer who was satisfied with a
person with a language handicap, and fortunate in the way
his efforts turned out; it was as if there were some rebound
from his Xanth talent, changing the curse to good luck.
But this had hardly made up for the almost complete blah-
ness of Mundania. Now Grey understood what he had not
grasped before: that the dreadful drabness of his own life
was only a reflection of the much greater drabness of his
parents' lives. They had known Xanth, so were aware of
the magnitude of their loss. They had protected him from
that awareness, but now the full significance of it was
clear.

What would he do if he had to leave Xanth—and Ivy?
From time to time Grey had pondered suicide, not with
any great passion, but as a prospect to relieve the inexo-
rable boredom of his so-so existence. He had never actu-
ally tried it, not because of any positive inspiration, but

265

266

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

267

because he couldn't figure out any easy way to do it with-
out pain. So he had muddled on through, while his grades
ground slowly down, feeling guilty for not doing better,
but somehow unable to change it. Maybe he had been
hoping for some impossible miracle to happen that would
rescue him from the mire of his dull life, yet knowing,
deep down, that it would never happen.
Then Ivy had come. His life had changed.
If he should lose her and return to Mundania alone-
no, he did not have to ask what would become of him. He

knew.

Anything that could go wrong, would go wrong: that
was his father's talent. Could it really act in a positive
manner, helping Grey by fouling up the evil machine?
Grey had all too little confidence in that! But what else
was there to try?

So he smiled and encouraged Ivy, and she smiled and
encouraged him, but neither was fooling the other. Their
happiness hung on an impossibly slender thread.

"And so that's the story," Ivy concluded. "Magician
Murphy and Vadne will be here in a few days to ask your
pardon for their crimes of the past, and they will support
you as King if you let them stay in Xanth, and will try to
help Grey get around Com-Pewter's plot. I can't marry
Grey until we find that way, and if we can't find it within
a month—" She shrugged.

"So you have decided to leave Xanth rather than serve
Pewter?" King Dor asked Grey.

"Yes. I don't want the evil machine to use me to take
over Xanth. If I had no talent of consequence, it would be
bad because of my influence with Princess Ivy. As it is, it
is worse, because I could do a lot of damage. Xanth
doesn't need another Evil Magician!"

"We always did like you, Grey," Queen Irene said.
"As we came to know you, we liked you better, and we
like you best now. But what you say is true. We shall of
course welcome your parents and allow them to stay in
Xanth, but the irony is that you may not be able to remain
here with them."

"But until that month is done, hope remains," Dor said.
"Knowing the devious power of the Magician Murphy, I
would say it is a significant hope."

Grey smiled and thanked them, but the gloom did not
let go of his soul. Com-Pewter seemed to have it locked
up tight: what could possibly go wrong with its plot when
it was so close to completion? The easiest wrongness was
simply Grey's absence from Xanth, and that was the one
that he so dreaded.

"Someho^, some way," Ivy murmured in the hall, and
kissed him. But her cheer was cracking at the edges.

Nothing happened while they waited for the arrival of
the other party. Grey and Ivy picked exotic fruits in the
orchard, fed tidbits to the moat monsters, made the ac-
quaintance of the guardian zombies, peeked at the baby
Bed Monster under Grey's bed (Grey was new to magic,
so had a childlike acceptance of some things despite being
eighteen), and played innocent games with Dolph and
Nada. The castle was excellent for hide and seek, because
it had many secret recesses that the ghosts were happy to
show off when asked. According to Ivy, the castle was not
as well stocked with ghosts as it once had been, because
three of them had been reanimated as living folk, but it
could still legitimately be called haunted as long as a sin-
gle ghost remained. In short, it was almost as dull as Mun-
dania.

Grey disagreed with her. "Xanth could never be dull!"
he said. "Why, even if it didn't have magic, there's—well,
look at that picture!" For they happened to be standing
by a portrait in the hall, one of a number that were ele-
gantly framed.

Ivy glanced at it. "Oh, yes, that's Mother when she was
my age. She was Miss Apull on the pinup calendar. I wish
I could look like that, at my age."

"You look like you," he said. "That's more than
enough."

"It will have to do," she said. But she was pleased.

Then the party arrived. Magician Murphy looked im-
proved, and Vadne much improved; both the exercise and




268

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

269

the renewed experience of Xanth had been good for them.
Electra was back to her regular form, and skipping like a
child again. She hugged everyone, and even stole a

naughty kiss from Dolph.

The formalities were brief: Magician Murphy formally
apologized for the mischief he had done in the past, and
promised to support King Dor and all his works in the
future. Vadne asked to be allowed to visit Millie the Ghost
at Castle Zombie so she could apologize to her for the
incident of the book. Dor granted them both pardons.

"Now," Murphy said, turning to Grey, "I hereby lay
my curse on the geis that is on you, my son, and wish it
evil. Whatever can go wrong with it will go wrong."

"Thank you, Father," Grey said, trying to project the
feeling of confidence. What a dismal hope!

"You and me Sorceress will be our guests for dinner,
Magician," King Dor said formally. "Zora will show you

to your suite now.''

Neither of Grey's parents spoke, but Grey knew them:

they were overwhelmed by the generosity with which they
had been met, and could not speak. Vadne, who he now
realized had resented the fact that she had never been
known as a Sorceress despite having a formidable talent,
would be loyal to King Dor for life because of that one
remark. They followed Zora Zombie out.

Grey lingered, wanting to thank the King and Queen for
their kindness to his parents. But Ivy caught his arm.
"They know. Grey. Mother wasn't a Sorceress either, un-
til the elders reconsidered. The standards have been mod-
ified. Xanth needs all the good magic it can get."

"Uh, sure," he agreed, as she hauled him off.

"You see, we also understand about good and evil
magic," Ivy continued, guiding him upstairs. "Grandpa
Trent was an Evil Magician, because he tried to take power
before his time, and he was exiled to Mundania. But then
he returned when they needed a king, and he became king,
and then he wasn't evil any more. It's all in the attitude
and in the situation. Now that your folks are supporting
mine, they aren't evil either, no matter what happened

long ago."

"But how would my folks have felt, or yours, if you
and I were not engaged?"

"But you see we are betrothed," she said blithely. "So
there's no reason for trouble between our folks, because if
our children have good magic—"

"But that's presuming we can marry!" he protested.
"And we can't marry if I have to serve Com-Pewter."

"I don't think you appreciate just how potent your fa-
ther's magic is. I've been talking to my father, who visited
King Roogna's time when he was twelve; and he met your
father then, and he said that curse was amazing. The gob-
lins and harpies were fighting, see, and—here, I'll show
you on the Tapestry!"

They had reached her room. She opened the door and
hauled him in. And stopped. "This isn't the way I left
it!" she exclaimed, glaring at the Tapestry. "Who's been
here?"

The door swung closed behind them. As it did, its hinge
made a noise. "Prince Dolph!" it squealed.

"I thought so! And what is he now?"

"That fly on the ceiling," the hinge said.

Ivy grabbed a fly swatter from a drawer. "Change,
Dolph, or I'll bash you into a smithereen!" she cried,
stalking the fly.

The fly became a bat who headed for the window. But
Ivy got there first. "Change, before I mash you into
guano!"

The bat became a pale green goat, who ran for the door.

"Grey, stop that greenback buck!" Ivy called. "Null
his magic!"

Grey put out a hand. The moment it touched the buck's
hom, the animal became Prince Dolph.

"Ah, you'd never have caught me, if that hinge hadn't
squealed," Dolph complained.

Ivy would not be distracted. "You're not supposed to
be in my room when I'm home! What were you doing?"

"Just watching the Tapestry," the boy said guiltily.

"And what were you watching, that made you sneak in
here right now?"

Dolph scumed his feet together. "Just—things."




270        Man from Mundania

Ivy's outrage expanded. "You were watching Nada

change clothing!"

"Well, she is my betrothee," Dolph mumbled.
"Trying to catch a glimpse of her panties!" Ivy con-
cluded triumphantly. "Do you know what Mother will do

to you for that?"

"Don't tell! Please don't tell!" Dolph begged. "I'll do

anything!"

"I'll think about it," Ivy said. "Now get out of here,

you little sneak, before I Enhance you into a human be-
ing."

Dolph was only too glad to make his escape.

"How can you cow him like that, when he can turn into
a dragon if he wants to?" Grey asked.

"It's the natural right of big sisters. Now just let me

reset the Tapestry—" ,

"Hey, isn't that the Goblinate of the Golden Horde?"
Grey asked, seeing the picture that had been frozen on it.
"I thought Dolph was watching Nada." He had some
sympathy for the boy's interest; Nada was one fine-looking
girl, and doubtless her panties were impressive. Grey had
never seen them himself; she had lost her clothing during

the episode on Parnassus.

"That's right. Obviously Dolph scrambled the weave so
I wouldn't know. It was all he could do in the moment
before he changed forms."

"Scrambled the weave?"

"You know—he just made a random reset of the pic-
ture, so I couldn't tell where it had been set. If he'd had
more time he would have put it back the way I had left it.
He's pretty cunning about that sort of thing, usually. He
just didn't expect me back so quickly. He probably figured
I'd take time out to kiss you in the hall for a while." She
glanced at him sidelong. "Correctly. Only then we were
discussing your father's curse, and I decided to show you
on the Tapestry, so we came on in and caught him un-
awares. So this setting is pure chance. I'll just—"

"What's happening? If those are the same goblins

who—"

She looked at the frozen picture more closely. "I'm sure

Man from Mundania        271

they are. See, there's the mean old chief. But this must be
years ago, because he's not quite so ugly as he was when
we crossed him."

"Ouch! That means there's no chance to help their vic-
tims." For he saw that a partly of three gremlins had been
captured. The goblins were just in the process of taking
whatever possessions the gremlins had.

"Little chance," Ivy agreed. "I wonder how they
caught those gremlins. They're usually way too smart for
goblins."

"They caught us!" he reminded her.

"Let's play this through," she said. "Just out of idle
curiosity. Then we can go on to Magician Murphy's old-
time curses."

The picture moved, the figures zipping backwards rap-
idly, like video tape being rewound. Then it steadied. The
goblins were out of sight, and two gremlins were walking
down the path.

"Oh, I see," Ivy said grimly. "The third isn't in their
party. She's a—a—"

"A shill? A Judas goat? But why would she lure her
own kind into a trap?"

"To save her life." They watched as the two ap-
proached the third, who was tied to a tree and gesticulat-
ing, obviously a maiden in distress.

The two hurried up to untie her—and the goblins
pounced from the bushes nearby. They searched the cap-
tives, and just at the point where the Tapestry had been
randomly frozen they found a scrap of paper on one. They
were evidently quite exited about it and saved it carefully.
Then they hauled the two off toward the hate spring and
the cooking pots. The third they hustled into a cave; she
would be saved for future mischief.

"I hate those goblins!" Grey exclaimed. "Can't any-
body stop them?"

"It's sort of live and let live, in Xanth," Ivy said. "But
I would certainly like to see them get their comeup-
pance. ''

"I wonder what was written on that paper?"

Ivy played the Tapestry back, and caused it to expand

Man from Mundania

272

the paper. But the markings on it were incomprehensible.
"Maybe Grundy could read it," she said. "He speaks all
languages, so maybe he reads some too."

"Of course that paper has probably been burned by now
anyway," Grey said. "I really didn't mean to get off on a

sidetrack."

"Why not? Little things can be interesting." Ivy went

to the door. "Hey, Dolph!" she called.

Her little brother appeared immediately. "Anything!"

he repeated worriedly.

"Go find Grundy and bring him back."

"That's it?" he asked incredulously.

"No, that's just incidental. I'm still pondering."

"Qh." Dolph became the bat and flew away.

"You're going to turn him in?" Grey asked.

"No. But I'll make him sweat for a while. He's very

well behaved when he's sweating."

Soon Grundy Golem and Rapunzel were there. Grundy
peered at the expanded image of the paper. "I can't quite
make out what it says, it seems to be an address of some
kind, but—oh, say!"

"Say what?" Ivy asked.

"That's Humfrey's writing!"

"The Good Magician's?"

"Who else? I'd know his scrawl anywhere! But of course
I can't read it; he enchants messages so that only those

whose business it is can read them."

"Then that's why the goblins couldn't read it!" Ivy said.
"They knew what it was, but it was no good to them. But

you said it's an address?"

"Probably telling where to find him if they need him,"

the golem said. "Those gremlins must have done him some
service, so they had an Answer on tap. Too bad they never

got to use it.''

Ivy's eyes lighted. "An Answer!" she exclaimed.
"Don't get excited, Princess. You don't have an Answer

coming to you, and if you did, Humfrey's gone, so you

couldn't get it anyway."

"But the address!" she persisted. "The magic address!

Man from Mundania        273

That would change when he moved and always be cur-
rent!"

"Of course it would," the golem agreed. "But the folk
he gave it to are gone, and nobody else can read it, so
what's the point?"

' 7 could read it!" Ivy said. "If I had the original paper.
I could enhance its legibility and orientation, and find out
where the Good Magician is now!"

The others stared at her, realizing that it was true. "And
if you found him, you could ask him how to foil Pewter's
plot," Rapunzel said. "Oh, Ivy, what a coincidence that
you should learn of that paper just now!"

"Coincidence?" Ivy asked musingly. "No, I think it's
Murphy's curse! This is just the kind of fluke that happens
when that curse is operating."

Then Grey began to hope.

This time they appeared to be a party of three: a young
peasant man, a pretty peasant girl, and a homely young
centaur with a donkeylike hide. They were not these
things, exactly, but they played their parts carefully, for
their mission was important and not without risk. Had the
need to find Humfrey and solve Grey's problem not been
so urgent. King Dor and Queen Irene would never have
permitted this excursion. But the parents had had to agree
that this was their best chance.

Actually, Queen Irene had quietly approached Grey dur-
ing one of the few times when Ivy was otherwise occu-
pied, and hinted that there might be another way to deal
with Com-Pewter. A sphinx might take a stroll and acci-
dentally step on the evil machine's cave, squashing it and
all inside it flat. Then there would be nothing for Grey to
serve. But Grey had demurred; that would be an unethical
solution, by his definition. He could not conspire so di-
rectly against Com-Pewter, who had after all made a deal
with Grey's parents and fulfilled his part of it. It was Grey's
own responsibility to solve his problem, whatever the out-
come.

"I thought you might feel that way," Irene said ap-
provingly. "There is an ethical dimension to power. We

274 Man from Mundania

shall remain clear and allow you to deal with your problem

yourself."

Grey had thanked her, though his prospect of success
seemed bleak. The more he learned of Ivy's folks, the
better he liked them.

They walked north from the invisible bridge over the
Gap Chasm. This time instead of taking the enchanted
path north they veered to the east, following a lesser trail
that wasn't magically protected but that led to a centaur
range. In fact Chester and Cherie Centaur had once lived
there, before moving to Castle Roogna to tutor the young
Prince Dor and Princess Irene. A few centaurs still lived
there, though it was a diminishing community that was
desperately in need of nubile fillies. In a past generation
it had been short of centaur colts, which had led in part
to the defection of Chem Centaur to another type of as-
sociation. The winged centaur Chex was the result. The
centaurs of this region were a good deal more liberal than
those of Centaur Isle far to the south, but not that liberal,
and neither Chex nor her dam were welcome there now.
So the region continued to decline, victim as much of its
conservatism as of its bad fortune. Monsters were en-
croaching, becoming increasingly bold despite the profi-
ciency of centaur archers.

Peasant gid Ivy rode the centaur, while peasant boy
Grey walked beside. It was evident that they were going
to visit the centaur's home range, perhaps to discuss with
the centaurs there some type of commission or employ-
ment. Few peasants could afford centaur tutors, but on
occasion some child with excellent magic turned up, and
then the centaurs could be prevailed on for instruction in

the rudiments.

There were goblins not far from this region, but they
had not yet been so bold as to attack the centaur com-
munity. Even goblins were able to appreciate the effec-
tiveness of aroused centaurs; losses would be prohibitive.
But the goblins did lurk, watching their opportunity. There
were stories ...

"Oh, gentle peasants!" a sweet voice called.
They looked. A slender young woman was running to-

Man from Mundania

275

ward them, her comsilk hair flowing behind. She was so
slight as to be almost transparent, but nicely contoured.

"What is it, sylph?" Ivy inquired.

So this was a sylph! Grey had not encountered one be-
fore. But of course there were a great many of the crea-
tures of Xanth he had not yet met—and might never meet,
if their quest for the Good Magician's Answer proved un-
successful.

"Oh, kind peasants and brave centaur, surely you have
come to fulfill the prophecy!" the sylph said.

"Prophecy?" Ivy asked.

"My friend, the lovely centaur damsel, is captive of an
ogre who means to fatten her horribly and then crunch her
bones!" the sylph explained. "According to the prophecy,
only a bold gray centaur with a young human couple as
companions can hope to rescue her from a fate exactly as
bad as death! Surely you are the ones it refers to, for you
answer the description perfectly!"

"That is an interesting prophecy," Ivy remarked. "But
an ogre is a fearsome creature! What could poor peasants
do against such a monster?"

"Oh, wonderful folk, I know not!" the sylph cried,
distraught. "But there must be some way, for the proph-
ecy says so. Will you not at least come and see?"

"And get our own bones crunched by the ogre?" Ivy
asked. "I think we should take another path!"

"Now let us not be hasty," the gray centaur protested.
He turned to the sylph. "You say this filly is fair?"

"Oh, she is lovely, sir! She was a bit thin, but the ogre
has been making her eat all she can hold, and now she is
quite buxom, and soon she will be fat, and he will crunch
her bones! I beg you, come and see her, and perhaps you
can free her. She would be most grateful!"

"But the ogre!" Ivy protested. "We don't dare ap-
proach!"

"He forages by day, leaving her chained. I am too frail
to break the chain, indeed all normal folk are, but the
prophecy says you will find the way! Please, please, come
and see, while the ogre is away!"

"I think we should at least look," the gray centaur said

276 Man from Mundania

reasonably. One might almost have thought he had some
ulterior interest in the matter.

Ivy sighed. "Well, the centaurs are in need of young
fillies. But we must be ready to flee at the first sign of the
ogre!"

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" the sylph ex-
claimed. "I am ever so relieved! Right this way!" She
skipped along the path ahead, her hair flouncing nicely.

They followed. Grey had kept his mouth strictly shut,
not interfering. They had just played out a little charade.
They had surveyed this matter with the Tapestry, and dis-
covered that the goblins had a new ploy: they used their
captives to beguile travelers into goblin ambushes and then
pounced on the hapless travelers and bore them off to the
pot. The sylph was a captive who had been promised her
freedom if she lured three travelers in for capture. Of
course the goblins would renege on that pledge, and surely
the sylph suspected it. But it was at least a hope, while
the alternative was certain: if she did not cooperate she
would be dumped in the pot immediately.

It occurred to Grey that it was about time someone did
something about those goblins. They were not nice neigh-
bors.

The sylph led them deeper into the jungle. This was no
longer the regular trail, for there were no centaur hoof-
prints on it; it was one the goblins had scuffed out for this
purpose. Goblins were good a scuffing trails, especially
for a nefarious purpose. They were making sure the prey
had no chance to escape the ambush.

Grey permitted himself a grim little smile. The goblins
had a surprise coming.

They reached a clearing. There was nothing in it except
a mound of garbage evidently left by the goblins.

The sylph turned. Tears streaked down her face. "Oh,
I am so sorry, good folk!" she said. "They made me do
it!"

"Do what?" Ivy asked with simulated confusion.

"They have my child captive, my darling Sylvanie, and
she is first into the pot if I do not do all they demand, and
me too if I fail," the sylph continued. "I know it's wrong,

Man from Mundania        277

and I hate myself for doing it, but my man defied them
and they boiled him, and oh, I have no pride left, only I
must save my daughter, and so I have done this awful thing
to you and I do not beg your forgiveness, only your un-
derstanding."

Now Grey saw the goblins. They were appearing from
all around, closing the net with what for them was surely
delicious slowness, savoring the horror in their prey. They
wanted their victims to suffer on the way to the pot.

"What is your name?" Ivy inquired.

"I am Sylvia Sylph," she replied, still weeping. "My
man was Sylvester. We were just traveling through, as you
were, and they caught us. We will all be cooked and eaten,
I know that, but I just have to struggle through as long as
I can, hoping somehow to save Sylvanie though I know I
can't. Now you must suffer, you innocent folk, and I apol-
ogize abjectly for what I have done to you, but I cannot
help myself."

Now the goblins ringed them closely. Grey recognized
the ugly chief, Grotesk. Too bad that one hadn't landed in
the Gap Chasm, back when they had last met!

"Would you help us, if we helped you and your child
escape?" Ivy asked.

"Oh, yes, yes! But it is hopeless. They will never let
any of us go! They are the meanest tribe of these parts.
They have no mercy! They delight in torturing innocent
folk. Do not go into the pool if you can possibly avoid it,
because—"

"Enough, wench!" the chief cried harshly. "Leave us
to our sport." The sylph was instantly quiet.
Ivy turned her face to look directly at Grotesk. "Oh

goblin, what do you mean to do with us?" she asked as
if affrighted.

"Well, peasant girl, I may turn you over to my lusty
henchmen for their amorous sport, then let you take a nice
drink from our nice pool before giving you a nice hot bath
in our pot. Or maybe I'll give you the nice drink before
you engage my henchmen; that could be even more inter-
esting. As for this bedraggled centaur—" The chiefs eyes

278 Man from Mundania

widened. "Hey, I recognize this beast! The one who looks
like a mule!"

"Donkey," the creature said.

"Whatever! We had you captive before, only you got
away, and—and these are the ones who helped you es-
cape!"

"Curses!" Ivy said. "They have found us out!"

"Kill them right now!" the chief cried. "All of them,
the sylph slut too! Don't give them any chance at all!"

The goblins raised their clubs and spears and cocked
their stone-throwing arms.

Ivy jumped off the centaur. The centaur disappeared. In
its place was an immense low-slung six-legged dragon with
steam puffing from its nostrils.

Grey jumped forward and grabbed the sylph by her thin
arm. "Cover your face!" he said, pulling her into the cen-
ter of the circle formed by the dragon's curving tail.

"The Gap Dragon!" the chief cried, terrified.

"Yes," Grey said. "He came to see you dance, chief."

"What?"

The dragon pursed his lips and touched the chiefs big
feet with a small jet of steam. The chief danced with pain.

Ivy poked her head over the dragon's neck. "That was
just a sample, goblin," she said. "Do you know what my
friend will do to you if you threaten to hurt one hair of
my head?" She swept off the peasant cap and let her
golden-green hair tumble out.

"You—you really are the Princess Ivy!" the chief ex-
claimed. " The dragon's friend!''

"I really am," she agreed. "Now you just walk along
back toward your camp, and all your minions with you,
and my friend will steam any who stray."

"What are you going to do with us?"

"Well, Grotesk," Ivy said with relish, "I may turn you
over to my lusty friend for his sport, then let you drink
from your nice pool before giving you a nice steam bath."

"But—but—"

"Now MARCH, frog-face!" she snapped. "Before my
friend loses his patience." Her friend, of course, was not
the real Stanley Steamer, but her little brother Dolph,

Man from Mundania        279

working off his penance for spying on Nada's panties. It
didn't matter; Dolph in dragon form could get just as
steamed as the real dragon. After seeing what the goblins

were up to, Dolph was surely just as outraged as Ivy and
Grey were.

The goblins marched. The party wended its way back
to the goblin camp. Whenever a goblin tried to stray, the
dragon jetted steam at the seat of his pants, and he quickly
danced back into place. The truth was that the goblins
could have scattered, and most of them would have gotten
away; and they would have done just that if any ordinary
dragon had manifested. But they lived close enough to the
Gap Chasm to be familiar with the dread Gap Dragon, and
they were terrified of him. Their trap had been neatly re-
versed, and they were as helpless to escape it as they had
expected their prey to be.

They reached the hate spring. Grey knew that Ivy re-
mained angry about the way these goblins had tortured her
with it before, even though that had brought about the
breakthrough of their betrothal. He stayed clear, letting
her handle it her way.

"Now," she said. "There is something I want from

you, goblin, and I am going to get it. Are you going to
give it to me?"

The chief laughed. "Take off your dress and I'll give it
to you! Har, har, har!"

Ivy signaled the dragon. A jet of scalding steam shot
out. It singed a group of six goblins standing by the pool.
They screamed and jumped into the water.

Then they began fighting among themselves, for the wa-
ter made them hate the first other creatures they saw. The
water splashed, droplets striking others nearby, and they
too began fighting. In very little time a dozen goblins were
unconscious.

"Are you going to answer me?" Ivy asked the chief
evenly.

"I told you: lie down and spread your—"
There was another blast of steam. A second group of

goblins were singed into the water. Another fight broke

out, finishing about ten more goblins.




280

Man from Mundania

Mem from Mundania

281

"Now we can do this until all your tribe is gone," Ivy
said, "if that is the way you prefer it. I suspect there is a
prophecy that you will be the last to enter that pool before
we get what we want. Shall we test it for accuracy?"

The chief looked at the sprawled goblins. "Exactly what
is it you want?" he asked grudgingly.

"I thought you'd never ask!" Ivy said brightly. "Where
is the piece of paper you stole from the gremlins?''

"What paper?"

More steam hissed. More goblins were goosed into the
water. Another awful fray occurred.

"Oh, that paper," the chief said, after the fracas had
died out. "We burned it long ago."

This time the dragon steamed a large group of goblins.
They screamed as their skin was burned. They could cool
themselves only by plunging into the water. By the time
this action was done, more than half the tribe was uncon-
scious or worse.

"In my cabin," the chief mumbled.

"Send a goblin for it."

"Go jump in the lake!" he retorted.

The steam was running low, but Ivy touched the dragon,
Enhancing him, and the steam became so hot it smoked.
Half the remaining goblins leaped into the pool, not even
waiting for that jet to catch them. Yet more fighting broke
out.

"Princess," Sylvia Sylph said hesitantly, "I will fetch
it, if you wish."

"No, you fetch your child," Ivy said.

Sylvia's eyes brightened. "Oh, yes!" She hurried off.

At this point only four goblins remained standing, be-
sides the chief. "Send a goblin," Ivy repeated grimly.

The chief grimaced. "Go, Bucktooth."

Bucktooth broke away from the diminished group and
walked to the chiefs hut. In a moment he returned with a
box.

"Open it, Bucktooth," Ivy said.

"Princess, I can't!" the goblin protested. "It is spelled
against intrusion!"

"I thought so. Open it, chief."

"Like stewed brains I will!"

More steam hissed. Two more goblins leaped into the
pool. They scrambled out and attacked the two remaining
goblins. The box fell to the ground. The melee ended up
back in the water. Soon all four were unconscious.

"Will you let me go if I do?" the chief asked.

"I will treat you with the same compassion you have
treated others."

The chief leaped at her—but the steam caught him in
mid air and blasted him back into the pool. He splashed
about. "I hate you!" he screamed.

"Stay in the pool," Ivy said.

The goblin obviously wanted to rush out and attack her,
but he saw the snout of the dragon covering him, and
refrained. The longer he remained in the water, the worse
his hatred grew, but there was nothing he could do about
it. He began frothing at the mouth. Finally he waded across
and out the far side and stumbled into the jungle. Grey
knew that whatever creature the goblin encountered there
would be in for trouble. Maybe it would be a fire-breathing
dragon.

"But how can you open the box?" Sylvia asked.
Grey walked across and picked up the box. He worked
the catch, and it opened. He had nulled the magic that
sealed it. There was the bit of paper. He took it out and
handed it to Ivy.

She inspected it. "Yes, I can see that this is spelled to
be intelligible only to the person who truly needs to see
the Good Magician," she said.

"I can null that spell too," Grey offered.

"No, you can't read Xanthian," she demurred. "The
magic has to remain. But we truly need to see him, so I
am sure it will respond to us." She concentrated on it.
"Yes, it's coming clear now. He is living somewhere in—
in—" She looked up, dismayed.

"Where?" Grey asked, alarmed.

"In the gourd."

There was a moment of silence. Then the dragon van-
ished and Dolph stood in his place. "I can go there!" he
exclaimed.




282

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

283

Ivy gazed at him sourly. "But you're grounded, remem-
ber, until you decide between Nada and Electra. I only
got you sprung today because I promised I'd keep a big
sisterly eye on you all the time."

Sylvia Sylph reappeared, leading a pretty child by the
hand. "I will go into the spring now, only I beg of you,
spare my daughter!"

Ivy's head snapped around. "What?"

"My punishment for what I did," Sylvia said. "But
Sylvanie is innocent; please let her go."

Ivy got her composure together; it had showed signs of
unraveling. "Let me explain, Sylvia: you did not deceive
us. We deceived you. We knew about the prophecy trap:

that you had to approach any travelers with a story about
someone like one of them being in trouble so they would
follow you into the goblins' trap. We have been captive of
these goblins ourselves; we know what they are like. But
we needed this paper, so we used you to lead us in. This
is my brother. Prince Dolph, who assumed the form of
the centaur and then the dragon. You know he wasn't
tempted by any lady centaur!"

"Oh, I dunno," Dolph said. "She sounded sorta nice.
I could have ridden on her back and used her long hair for
reins, or maybe just reached around her torso to hang on
while she galloped."

"Shut up." Ivy knew he was teasing her. She refocused
on Sylvia. "So we bear no grudge against you. We saw
how sorry you were to do it. Now you are free to go; you
are captive no more."

The sylph just stood there. "But what I did—I must be
punished."

Grey interposed. "Do you have anywhere to go, now
that your man is dead?"

The sylph shook her head sadly no.

Ivy melted, as he had known she would. "Then you
and Sylvanie will come with us to Castle Roogna."

"But my child is innocent! I beg of you—"

"To decide your punishment," Grey said. "Your
daughter must be with you, but she will not be punished."

"Maybe you could give her your bed," Grey suggested.

Ivy turned to him. "My bed?"

"Sylvanie is a child. She needs a young Bed Monster.
I thought maybe Grabby—"

"Who otherwise doesn't have long to live!" Ivy agreed.
"Yes, of course—Sylvanie gets my bed!"

The child's eyes went huge. "My very own Bed Mon-
ster?" she piped.

The sylph almost dissolved. "Oh, thank you, thank
you!"

Ivy looked over the wreckage that was the Goblinate of
the Golden Horde. "I think it will be some time before
this outfit causes much more trouble," she said with sat-
isfaction.

Then Dolph became a roc. They climbed on his gigantic
feet, clinging to the talons: Grey and Ivy on one foot,
Sylvia and Sylvanie on the other. The wings spread, and
napped, and they lurched into the air.

In a moment they were over the Gap Chasm. Dolph
waggled his wings in a salute to the real Gap Dragon and
flew on. Very shortly they were gliding down to Castle
Roogna.

Grey and Ivy talked privately to King Dor, and he agreed
that he would punish Sylvia Sylph by requiring her to do
service at Castle Roogna as a maid for an indefinite pe-
riod, during which time her child would be tutored by a
centaur. The two would share a room at the castle, and
the child would get Ivy's old bed. Zora Zombie would
instruct the sylph in her duties.

"Such as waxing the floor!" Ivy said, laughing. "That
will be terrible punishment!"

Grey smiled. Evidently the girls did not like the smell
of the wax, though it reminded him of home. Maybe it
was its Mundanish quality that bothered them.

Then they pondered their approach to Good Magician
Humfrey. He was in the gourd; that explained why nobody
had been able to find him, because the tapestry could not
track him there, and the magic mirror was limited. They
were not able to understand the exact address, for the




284 Man from Mundania

regions of the gourd had little revelance to those of waking
life. The full inscription went like this:

DAMESCROFT
SILLY GOOSE LANE
LITTLE HALINGBERRY
BISHOP'S STORKFORD
HURTS
ANGLE-LAND

Grey shook his head. "I'm not sure I'll ever understand
these Xanth addresses!"

"This isn't a Xanth address," Ivy corrected him. "It's
a gourd address. It makes no sense to me either."

"I can find it! I can find it!" Dolph said eagerly. "The
Night Stallion gave me a free pass to the gourd, remem-
ber; any of its creatures will help me if I ask, and none
will hurt me or anyone I speak for."

"You just want to get out of being grounded!" Ivy ac-
cused him.

"Uh-huh! But you need me! You need me in the
gourd!"

Ivy grimaced. It was true: Dolph had a special advan-
tage in the gourd. If they wanted to locate the Good Ma-
gician at all, let alone within Grey's time limit for
settlement with Com-Pewter, they had to use Ivy's little
brother.

So it was decided: Grey and Ivy and Dolph would make
one more excursion together, this time into the devious
realm of dreams. Rather than risk it physically, they would
enter the normal way: by looking into gourds growing right
here at Castle Roogna. That way friendly folk could keep
an eye on them and bring them back if there seemed to be
a need.

Grey felt more positive than he had in a long time. His
father's curse was working; already it had led to the chance
discovery of the address paper, and their acquisition of it;

anything that could go wrong with Com-Pewter's plot was
now going wrong. If that curse held, they would find the

Man from Mundania        285

Good Magician and get their Answer, and that could com-
plete the disruption of the plot.

But much Xanth magic did not operate the same in the
dream realm. Could Murphy's curse extend there'? If not
their mission could after all prove in vain.




Man from Mundania        287

Chapter 15 • Gourd

•hey set up piles of pillows in the garden, each
before a gourd on a vine. Dolph lay down on the center
setting, with Ivy to his left and Grey to his right. They

linked hands.

Nada turned Dolph's gourd so that the peephole came

to face him. He had to go first to set the scene; it was
individual to each person and remained at the point that
person had last been, until he returned and changed it.
Dolph had a standard setting that he had encountered at
the time he rescued Electra. They would join him there,
if they were in physical contact with him as they entered.

Dolph's eye met the peephole. He froze in place, intent
on what he saw there. He would not move until some
outsider broke the contact by moving the gourd or putting
a hand between the peephole and his eye.

Grey went next. Ivy knew he could null the magic of
the gourd if he chose, and probably he could void it at any
time while he was inside the dream realm. Indeed, he
could have done so during their prior adventure, had they
but known it. Maybe the Night Stallion had guessed at
something of the kind, because he had sheered away from
a confrontation with Grey. Ivy had wondered about that at
the time, but had forgotten the matter in the press of sub-
sequent events; now it made more sense to her. But Grey

286

was not using his talent now; he wanted to find the Good
Magician as much as she did. He froze in place.

Ivy went last. Her mother turned the gourd for her, and
she too froze as her eye locked on the peephole. But she
did not see this; her awareness was now within the realm

of the gourd.

It was a huge building: a palace or castle, with tiled
walls and thick supporting columns. Strange folk hurried
in every direction, each one intent on his or her own busi-
ness, glancing neither to left or right, pausing for nothing.

She was holding her brother's hand, as she had been
before entering the gourd. She let go; once the scene had
been set, they were all right. Grey was standing on the
other side.

"What is this amazing place?" she inquired.

"An airport," Grey said.

"A Mundane bad dream," Dolph said.

Grey smiled. "Much the same thing! Airports are al-
ways rushed, and the planes are always late even though
they're listed as being on time, and the baggage is a giant
lottery system. So many travelers were beating the odds
and keeping their bags by carrying them onto the planes
that the government had to change the law, making them
check their bags, and now the losses are back up to par or
even beyond it. It's a bad dream, all right!"

"This can't be where the Good Magician is living!"
Ivy said.

"I'll ask someone," Dolph said confidently. He stepped
boldly forward. "Hey, you!" he called at a passing man.

The man eyed him with mild annoyance and rushed on.

"I thought you were supposed to be able to get help,
here in the gourd," Ivy said.

"I am. But I haven't been here in a long time; maybe
they don't recognize me." He tried again, this time hail-
ing a woman. "Hey, miss!"

"Don't you touch me, you sexist!" she snapped, jerk-
ing away.

"I'm not a sexist!" he protested. "I don't even know
what it is!"




288 Man from Mundania

"Then you're a juvenile delinquent," she said over her
shoulder as she zoomed away.

"Got you dead to rights," Ivy murmured.

"This is getting us nowhere," Grey said. "Mundanes
never help strangers; you have to get someone in authority.
I think I see a policeman now. I'll ask him."

Dolph looked, and quailed. "That's the dread demon in
blue! He chased us all over the place!"

But Grey was already stepping out to intercept the man.
"Officer—may we get some help?"

The demon bore down on them. Not only was he garbed
in blue, he was big and fat and looked ferocious. "Ya
disturbina peace?" he demanded. "Complaints aboutya!
Gonna runyain!"

"We are looking for an address, officer," Grey said.
"If you could-"

But the man's beady eye had fixed on Dolph. "Hey,
Iknowya! You'n that barebroad—"

"He is Prince Dolph," Ivy said indignantly. "You're
supposed to help him!''

"Prince Dolph!" the man exclaimed. "Whyn'tya sayso!
Whatcha need?"

"You mean you're not going to chase us?" Dolph asked,
gaining courage.

"Stallion sez giveya anythingya want. Whatchawant?"

"We need to find an address," Ivy said. "Damescroft—"

"Dames? What kinda placeya think thisis?" the blue
man demanded indignantly. "None a that streetstuffhere!"

"Damescroft," Ivy repeated carefully. "It must be a
place. The next part is Silly Goose Lane."

"Never hearda it," the man said with certainty. "No
gooses here! I'll runin anyone tries it!"

"Little Halingberry?" Ivy asked, reading the next line.

"Lemme seethat!" the policeman said. He took the
paper. "Well nowonder! Yareadingit backwards! Yawant
Angle-Land!''

"But I read it in the order it's listed," Ivy protested.

"Listenup, sugarplum, this's Mundania, erproximation
thereof! Readfrom bottomup!''

Ivy glanced disbelievingly at Grey, but he agreed with

Man from Mundania        289

the policeman. "That's the way Mundane addresses are
read," he said. "I assumed that it was different in Xanth
or I would have said something."

"This isnt exactly Xanth," she reminded him. "It's a
bad dream."

He smiled. "And a bad dream in Xanth is of Mundania!
It certainly makes sense!" Then he turned to the police-
man. "If you will just tell us where Angle-Land is, officer,
we shall be happy to go there and get off your beat."

"Well, itsa longway, butfer PrinceDolph wegotta short-
cut. Taketha doorthere." He pointed with a fat finger.

"Thank you, officer," Grey said. "You have been most
helpful."

They walked toward the indicated door. "He's almost
decent," Dolph said, amazed. "Before, he chased us all
through this place, because of Grace'1. Said she was in-
decent. ''

"But I thought Grace'1 is a walking skeleton!" Grey
said. "Her bare bones may be frightening, but hardly in-
decent!"

"Oh, when she was clothed with illusion!" Ivy ex-
claimed. "So she looked like a bare nymph!"

"Mundanes think bare nymphs are indecent," Grey
agreed. "At least, when they go out in public."

"It certainly is a strange place," Ivy agreed.

They reached the door. Ivy put her hand on the knob
and turned it. The door swung open.

The scene beyond surprised them all. It consisted of
angles of every description. Some looked like thin pie
slices, while others were as square as the corners of cas-
tles, and yet others were broad and dull.

"I don't see why the Good Magician would want to live
here," Dolph remarked.

"Maybe it improves further in," Grey said. "This re-
minds me too much of geometry.''
"Who?" Ivy asked.
"It's a branch of mathematics," he explained. "One of

those tortures, like Freshman English, I hope never to face
again."




290        Man from Mundania

"I can see why," Ivy said. Indeed, this looked like an

awful place to live!
They stepped into Angle-Land. Some of the angles were

stationary, while some moved around. Ivy almost collided
with a very pretty little one. "Ooops, pardon me!" the
angle begged. "Normally I see very well, for I am acute,
but I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going,"
"You certainly are cute," Ivy agreed. "Can you show

us the way to Hurts?"

"You say my sharp point hurts you? Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"No, no!" Ivy said, smiling. "I said that you look very
nice. You're the cutest angle I've seen here."

The angle blushed, pleased. "Well, I am supposed to
be, you know. But I wouldn't want to hurt anyone."

Ivy realized that this angle's horizons were limited.
"Thank you. We shall keep looking."

They went on. The next angle they encountered was
relatively dull; its point would not cut anything. "Hello,"
Ivy said. "Can you tell us where Hurts is?"

"Duh," the angle said.

Dolph nudged her from one side, and Grey from the

other. "It's stupid," the one said.

"It's an obtuse angle," the other said.

The angle heard then. "Duh, sure, I'm obtuse! I'm sup-
posed to be. See, my point is much wider than that acute
gal you were just talking to." He said this with evident

pride.

"Yes, I can see that," Ivy said, and the dull angle

smiled with satisfaction.
They went on. The next angle was perfectly square.

"Do you know where Hurts is?" Ivy asked.

"I wouldn't think of admitting to anything like that!"

it replied. "I am after all a right angle."
"But all we want are directions!" Ivy said.
"I am sure I am quite correct in declining to comment

on that sort of thing."

Ivy saw that this angle was hopelessly self-righteous.

They went on.

They came to a wall. "Have we run out of angles?"

Grey asked, looking about.

Man from Mundania        291

"What do you think I am—a curve?" the wall inquired.

"Certainly not an angle," Ivy said. "You look abso-
lutely straight to me."

"Precisely: I am a straight angle. A hundred and eighty
degrees. Not a degree more, not a degree less."

"He's right," Grey murmured.

"Not at all, lout!" the angle retorted. "The last one
you talked to was a right angle; I am a straight angle, as
I just informed you. I deviate not an iota from my course."

"Do you know where Hurts is?"

"Do you suppose I am the straight man for your crude
humor? It will never work; I shall not deviate!"

"He's too straight," Grey muttered.

"It is impossible to be too straight or too narrow!" the
angle proclaimed.

They moved on. They came to a bend so wide it was
bent backwards. "What's your angle?" Ivy inquired.

"Now that is a subject for suitable cogitation," it re-
plied. "Whether it is nobler to suffer the slings and arrows
of outrageous questions, or—"

"All we want," Ivy said firmly, "is to find the way to
Hurts. Do you know it?"

"As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me,
that is a matter for reflexion, and I am of course the one
to do it, being a reflex angle. So let us consider: what is
to be gained or lost by your proceeding to such a painful
locale? On the one hand—"

"I'm hurting right now," Dolph said. "These angles
think they're real sharp, but to me they're pretty dull."

"Philistine!" the angle shot back.

"You know," Grey said, "if puns are the way of it
here, maybe we should go for the big one: Hurts must be
where the most cutting angles are."

"The ones that can hurt you worst," Dolph agreed.

They headed back toward the acute angles. "Now don't
be thoughtless about this!" the reflex angle called. "There
remain points to consider most carefully!"

There, in the sharpest heart of the most acute angles,
was a narrow blood-stained gate. It had broken glass with




292 Man from Mundania

sharply acute angles along its bars, and needlelike spikes
along the top. They had found the entrance to Hurts!

Ivy eyed the spikes. She hardly relished squeezing
through that! "You know. Grey, everything here is magic,
because it's the dream realm, so you should be able to null
it. But if you do—"

"Will it null the dream itself?" Grey finished. "Well,
does the exercise of other magic talents interfere with it?"

Dolph became a goblin. "Not that I know of, pot-bait!''
he said, true to the character he portrayed.

Ivy touched the nearest cute angle, and Enhanced her
so that she shone. "It doesn't seem to," she agreed.

"Then I should be able to exercise my talent here with-
out wreaking havoc," Grey concluded. "Provided I keep
it moderate." He reached out to touch the gate, carefully.
"Why, this isn't glass at all!" he exclaimed. "It's illu-
sion!"

"It's illusion now," Dolph said. "You bet it wasn't a
moment ago.''

"It's a matter of interpretation," Ivy pointed out.
"Since the entire dream world is crafted of illusion, illu-
sions are real here. Grey just nulled out some of the glass
illusion's reality."

"I'm glad," Dolph said. "When you get cut here, you
do bleed. Maybe not in your real body back in Xanth, but
it hurts the same."

Ivy remembered Girard Giant and his river of blood.
She knew it was true.

They squeezed through the nulled gate. The shards of
glass bent like leaves, harmlessly.

They were in a horrible region. This was evidently the
setting for the bad dreams of those who feared pain. All
around there were suffering people. Some had loathsome
diseases, some had awful injuries, and some seemed to be
enduring unendurable emotional turmoil. It was certain
that all were hurting.

A mean-looking man wearing a black mask walked up.
He carried a whip. "I don't remember ordering three more
actors," he said gruffly. "Are you sure you came to the
right place?"

Man from Mundania        293

"We're just passing through," Ivy said quickly.
"Well, there's a really bad dream coming up, with a

large cast," the dungeon master said. "Maybe we'd better

use you anyway. Can you scream well?"
"I am Prince Dolph," Dolph said. "I—"

"Oh, why didn't you say so! You are merely touring,
of course! What do you want to see?"

"The fastest way to Bishop's Storkford," Ivy said.

The dungeon master scratched his hairy head. "We are
bounded on the far side by a broad river with several good
fords, but I don't recall that particular one. I can show
you to the river, anyway."

"That will be fine," Ivy said.

They followed the dungeon master through the dun-
geon. Ivy tried to avert her eyes from the horrors of it,
lest it give her bad dreams that would later bring her right
back here, but it was impossible to overlook all of it. A
groan would attract her attention, and she would see some-
one with a gory knife wound, the knife still in it, ready to
hurt twice as much as it was pulled out. A sigh would
summon her eye to the other side, and there would be an
otherwise lovely maiden whose hair had been burned away,
leaving her bare scalp a mass of blisters. Ivy knew they
were all actors, only setting the scene so that the terrible
dreams could be fashioned for the night mares to take, but
it was so realistic that it turned her stomach anyway.

"I don't ever want to dream again!" Dolph whispered.

"I think I saw something like this in a horror movie
once," Grey remarked.

"You were tortured in Mundania?" Ivy asked, ap-
palled.

"No, I watched it for fun."
"For fun!" she repeated, shocked.
"But I didn't like it," he reassured her hastily.
"I certainly hope so!" How could she marry a man who
liked awfulness like this? Yet she realized that there prob-
ably were Mundanes who were of that type. Just so long
as they never got into Xanth!

They came to the river. The water was muddy and the
current swift; anyone who tried to cross it could be swept




294 Man from Mundania

away and drowned. Indeed, she spied a night mare picking
up a just-completed dream in which a desperate girl was
drowning. Ivy hoped she never suffered that dream her-
self, either!

"The fords are supervised by various creatures," the
dungeon master explained. "I think the storks are up-
stream, that way." He pointed to the left. "You may walk
along it until you find the one you are looking for. Keep
an eye out for blood flowing into the river; it can be slip-
pery."

"Thank you," Ivy said faintly. "You have been very
kind."

"It's not my nature," the man confessed. "But for
Prince Dolph, nothing is too good."

They followed the river upstream, doing their best to
ignore the activities by its bank. But the activities in the
river weren't much more reassuring. Grotesque monsters
loomed in it, snapping their mottled teeth, and rogue
winds threatened to capsize tiny boats containing helpless
women and children. One section of the water was on fire,
and the fire was encircling several swimmers; the more
desperately they stroked to escape it, the faster the flames
advanced. Another area was calm and deep; a sign said
SWIMMING, and children were gleefully diving into the
pool. But they weren't coming up again. When Ivy peered
more closely at the sign she saw that a stray leaf had plas-
tered itself across a word at the top, and she was able to
make out the word: "no." What was happening to those
disappearing children? In another place the sign was clear:

NO PISHING. Naturally several people were dangling their
lines in the water. What they couldn't see, because of the
blinding effect of the reflection of sunlight (never mind
where the sunlight came from, in this realm of dreams!),
was a monstrous kraken weed below, its tentacles care-
fully latching onto each line. Then, abruptly, it tugged,
and the fishers tumbled forward into the water and disap-
peared in the swirl of tentacles.

Ivy hoped she was never bad enough to have such
dreams. Yet she could see that it was far better to experi-
ence the horror of the dream than the reality—and those

Man from Mundania

295

who fished where it was forbidden might indeed get caught
by a kraken. So if the dream frightened them into safer
behavior, that was good. Thus a bad dream could be a
good dream! She had never realized that before.

But what was the Good Magician doing here? Surely
the Night Stallion had his domain well under control, and
did not need any help from Humfrey! If the stallion had
needed anything, he should have sent a night mare to the
Good Magician's castle in Xanth to inquire. Something
about this situation did not make sense.

Was it possible that the address which guided them was
false? That Magician Humfrey was not here?

Ivy squelched that thought, because if Humfrey wasn't
here, then they had no clue to where he was, and they
would not be able to get his Answer, and Grey would be
subject to the will of Com-Pewter. That was unacceptable,
so Ivy unaccepted it. Good Magician Humfrey was here;

that was final.

They came to the region of the fords. The first was
labeled FRANKFORD, and was supervised by a man-sized
sausage with little arms and legs. They passed it by.

Farther along was one marked AFFORD, where those who
wished to use it had to have plenty of Mundane coinage
to qualify. Then there was Beeford, strictly for the bees,
and Ceeford, where everyone was looking but not touch-
ing. They passed the complete alphabet of fords, finally
leaving Zeeford behind; it was being used by strange
striped horses.

At last they came to the various fords that were strictly
for the birds. They watched closely as they came to the
Ibisford and Heronford, and finally spotted the Storkford.
Here was where the storks were crossing, carrying their
squalling bundles. Ivy realized that this was part of the
route the storks took to reach Mundania; it must wind
down to the big gourd on No Name Key, and from there
they carried their babies to waiting Mundane mothers.
Grey had said that Mundanes had a different way of get-
ting babies, but naturally he was ignorant, being a man.

"But we aren't storks," Grey protested. "They won't
let us cross here!"




296

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

297

"We can cross," Dolph said. He became a giant stork.

Ivy smiled. She went to where a pile of spare sheets
was, and took a large, sturdy one. She knotted the comers
together so that it formed a big sling. "Climb in. Grey,"
she said.

"But—" he protested.

"When at the storkford, do as the storks do, you big
baby," she teased, climbing in herself.

Double-disgruntled, he joined her. It was like a ham-
mock, lumping them together, but they really didn't mind
that too much. Dolph walked out across the ford, and no
stork challenged him. Perhaps they assumed he was deliv-
ering a set of twins to a giant.

"Now we have to find Little Halingberry," Ivy an-
nounced, looking at the address as they resumed their
normal forms and positions at the far bank.

"I dread to think how foolish that will be," Grey mut-
tered.

They were at the edge of a field of assorted berries. The
storks were following a path that led underground; the
plants there seemed to put their fruit below. "What kind
is that?" Dolph asked.

"That's a bury plant," Ivy responded. "You have to be
careful about eating them, because of the pits. You don't
want to fall in."

Grey looked at her as if uncertain whether their be-
throthal was a good idea, but did not comment.

They passed many varieties of berries. Some seemed
edible, like the red and blue berries, and some were odd,
like the Londonberry. Then the heard something calling.
"That's it!" Ivy said confidently. "The plant haling us!"

Sure enough, it was the halingberry plant. But it was
way too large. It was the big halingberry. They looked
around until they found its offspring, the little halingberry,
whose voice was relatively faint. Beside that was a road,
marked MAIN LANE.

"Now for Silly Goose Lane," Ivy said. She led the way
down it. She was getting the hang of this region.

There were many offshoots: Hot Lane, Cold Lane, Plain
Lane, Lois Lane, Santa Claus Lane, Derby Lane, and oth-


ers in boring profusion. Some of them seemed to have
interesting activities at their ends, but Ivy didn't want to
waste time with bypaths. Then they got to the animal lanes,
and to the bird lanes. After Donald Duck Lane was Sober
Goose Lane and then Silly Goose Lane.

"We're getting close!" Ivy said, relieved. She stepped
onto the lane—and leaped. "Eeeeek!" she screamed, out-
raged.

"What happened?" Grey asked, alarmed. He hurried
after her—and made his own great leap. "Ooooff!"

It was Dolph who caught on! "A silly goose—like boot
rear!" he exclaimed, trying to stifle a laugh which threat-
ened to overwhelm him. "When you get on it, you get—"

"Now it's your turn, little brother!" Ivy said grimly.

"Sure." Dolph became a wacky-looking goose and
stepped forward. Naturally nothing happened to him, since
this lane was intended for this species. He had outwitted
it.

"Now we find Damescroft," Ivy said pretending not to
be disappointed. Grey was beginning to understand why
she and her brother did not always get along.

There were houses here. Soon they reached the ones
labeled croft: Eaglecroft, Handicroft, Welkincroft, Man-
scroft, Kidscroft, and finally Damescroft.

They had made it! There before them stood a pretty
cottage, with white walls and a thatched roof.

"This is the Good Magician's castle?" Grey asked.

"Nothing like it!" Dolph replied. "But you know, there
are always three challenges to get in, and you have to
surmount them or Humfrey won't talk to you. He's prob-
ably just as crotchety about that as he's been for the past
century."

"Maybe this is illusion," Ivy said. "The challenge is
to get in, when we can't see what we're getting into."

"Then let me see what I can do," Grey said. He took
a step forward and stretched out his hands, concentrating.

The cottage nickered, then disappeared. In its place was
a perfect replica of the Good Magician's castle as it was
in Xanth. It was of stone, with reasonably high turrets and
a moat. It looked deserted, too.




298 Man from Mundania

"That's more like it," Ivy said. "I don't see a moat
monster, but that's the way it is now, anyway. We can
cross over the—oops." For now she saw that there was no
drawbridge over the moat. It wasn't that the bridge had
been drawn; there was none at all.

They went to the edge of the moat. "It may be poi-
soned," Dolph said. "We don't want to risk it; Grey
couldn't null real poison."

Grey agreed. "Also, it might not be fair for me to use
my power more than once. We don't want the Magician
to be annoyed."

"I can get us across," Dolph said. He became the roc
again. They climbed onto his feet. He spread his wings
and flew across, landing on the inner ledge.

Ivy didn't say anything, but she was ill at ease. This
was too easy! The Good Magician's challenges were al-
ways challenging, while they seemed to have conquered
two of them without effort. She was suspicious of that.

They were on the ledge between the sheer castle wall
and the moat. They walked along it, seeking the entry.
Normally the main gate would be where the drawbridge
crossed the moat, but they had no bridge to orient on.

They kept walking until they had completed a circuit
around the castle. There was no gate at all!

"My turn," Ivy said. "I can get us in."

She concentrated on the impervious wall, enhancing its
state of perviousness. It became less substantial, so that
water might percolate through it, and air. It was a shadow
of its former self, looking solid but becoming illusion.

She took the hands of her companions. "We can pass
through this," she said, and led them into the wall and
out of it, inside the castle. Then she reversed the enhance-
ment, so that the walls returned to their normal state.

They were all the way in, now. Ivy heard footsteps. A
man turned the corner and stood in the lighted hall.

"Hugo!" Ivy exiaimed, walking toward him.

"Ivy!" he replied. "You are lovely!"

Ivy was unable to return the compliment, for Hugo was
best described as homely. "You haven't changed!" she
said instead, then hastily made introductions: "This is my

Man from Mundania

299

friend Hugo, the son of Humfrey and the Gorgon. This is
my betrothed. Grey Murphy. You know Dolph, of
course."

Hugo nodded. "Right this way," he said. "Mom has
cookies, the kind you like."

"Punwheel!" Ivy exclaimed as they followed him to the
kitchen. Indeed, the smell of freshly baked cookies was
drifting down the hall.

The Gorgon was there, exactly as Ivy remembered her:

tall, stately, with snakelets of hair framing her invisible
face. The Good Magician had made it invisible so that the
sight of it would not stone those who saw it. In the dark,
Ivy was sure, that face was just as solid and warm as any
other. The cookies were crisp and hot, with just that bit
of hardening that close proximity to the Gorgon's face
caused.

"My, how you've grown. Ivy!" the Gorgon exclaimed.
"You were, let me think, only ten or eleven years old the
last time I saw you!"

"I'm seventeen now," Ivy said proudly. She introduced
Grey, and of course the Gorgon exclaimed over the be-
trothal.

They ate cookies while they compared notes. The Gor-
gon was eager for news of Xanth, and rather missed the
old castle there.

"But why are you here?" Ivy asked. "The three of you
just disappeared, and we had no idea where you had gone
until now."

"The Magician is on a Quest," the Gorgon explained.

"The Question Quest!" Grey exclaimed.

"Why yes; however did you know?"

Ivy explained about their sneak peak at the volumes the
Muse of History was working on. "But couldn't he just
take care of it right there?''

"No, this was of a preemptive nature. The Magician
never was very tolerant of interruptions, and this was so
important that he decided to eliminate interruptions en-
tirely. We have not been disturbed for seven years." But
there seemed to be more regret than pride in her voice.

"But we have a Question," Ivy said. "We must have

300

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

301

the Answer before we can get married. So we tracked you
down here, and we will go home as soon as we see Ma-
gician Humfrey."

The Gorgon shook her head. "I'm afraid he won't see
you. He is so wrapped up in his Quest that he allows
nothing to interrupt it."

"But we must have that Answer!" Ivy protested.
"I would be delighted to have him give it to you. But
he just won't. He will just slide into another level of the
dream realm and avoid you, without ever taking his eyes

from his texts."

"But he left his texts behind!" Ivy said.

"The physical ones. He has all of them duplicated per-
fectly here, and all his other magic. Everything he needs
for his Quest—including privacy.''

"I think I could find him," Grey said. "I could null
out the levels of magic illusion until—"

"No, that wouldn't make him give an Answer," Ivy

said dispiritedly.

And that was it: they had come all the way here for
nothing. No wonder the challenges they had faced when
entering the castle had been perfunctory: the Good Ma-
gician wasn't at home to Questions anymore.

Grey nulled the magic for them as they held hands, and
in a moment Ivy looked up from her gourd. They were

back in Castle Roogna.

For a moment she was tempted to say they had gotten
their Answer. But that would not be honest, and besides,
if she could have figured out an answer herself, they would
not have needed to find the Magician.

So their dilemma remained. Her dilemma, really; Grey
had never had any doubt. He intended to be out of Xanth
before Com-Pewter's deadline expired. It was Ivy who had
to make her decision: whether to go with him to drear
Mundania or remain in Xanth without him.

"Oh Grey!" she cried in torment. "I can't do either! I
love you, but I also love Xanth. I can't endure without

both!"

"I understand," he said. "I love you, and I love Xanth,

and I know you must be together, so I will leave you."

Ivy clung to him, her tears flowing. "No, without you
Xanth would be as drear for me as Mundania. I will go
with you, though it destroy me."

"But I am afraid it will destroy you!" he protested.
"That is why I know you must not go."

Then, as she clung to him, she remembered something
she had forgotten. "Your father's curse! It was working!
It gave us the clue to where the Good Magician was!"

"Yes, but it failed. Humfrey would not—"

"No!" she cried. "Maybe it succeeded! Only we are
giving up too soon!"

"I don't understand," he said, looking at her quizzi-
cally. "We did all we could."

"No, I think we only thought we did all we could!" she
said, uncertain whether she was experiencing a significant
insight or grasping at a futile straw. "We thought we failed,
but we haven't yet. Because we got on the wrong track.
But maybe we can get back on the right track!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the dream isn't over yet!" she said.

"Not over?" he asked blankly. "But we exited from
the gourd, and—"

"Think back," she said excitedly. "Remember how
easy it was to find the Good Magician? There were exactly
three challenges, and we took turns overcoming them, and
we were in. And there were Hugo and the Gorgon, exactly
as I remembered them."

"Yes, so you said. I hadn't met them before, so—"

"I am seven years older, but they aren't!" she contin-
ued. "They were unchanged—and they shouldn't have
been. The Gorgon should have a gray hair or something,
and Hugo should have been in his mid twenties. But he
wasn't. Because he wasn't real. He was from my mem-
ory—no more. Gray, I made it all up! We never found
them at all!"

Gray nodded. "Unchanged—conforming to your mental
images," he said, "when they should have been older. So
it was a dream, not the reality."

"And the dream isn't over!" she repeated. "It side-




302

Man from Mundania

tracked us, made us think it was over, but it isn't! We can
still search for the good Magician!"

He nodded, working it out. "I did think that the chal-
lenges weren't as horrendous as reputed. So when I ban-
ished the illusion of Damescroft, it wasn't the reality we
saw, but another illusion."

"We only dreamed your power worked," she agreed.
"And we only dreamed that you returned us to Xanth.
That's the real challenge: to penetrate the illusion that we
are accomplishing anything!"

He embraced her. "I'm having the illusion of kissing
you," he said, kissing her.

"It's an excellent illusion," she agreed, kissing him
back. "Now let's get back to business. We still have to
find the Good Magician."

Grey considered. "As I understand it, we arc in the
realm of dreams, and everything we do here is part of the
dream, but we do retain our natural powers. If I exercise
mine persistently, doubting everything, like Descartes—"

"Who?"

He laughed. "A Mundane! He doubted until he could
doubt no more, and decided that was the truth. I only
remember him because I missed him on a test, but now I
think maybe he had something. If the Good Magician is
here, I should be able to find him by doubting away ev-
erything else. But since everything here is dreams, I'll
have to do it carefully; and it may be tricky—and maybe
it won't work at all but will just put us out of the dream
with nothing."

"Try it!" she urged. "It's our only hope!"

Grey nodded. "Uh, maybe you'd better enhance me,
just in case. I need to be very strong, and very accurate,
so I can dismantle the dream layer by layer."

"Yes." Ivy took his hand and began the enhancement.

Chapter 16 • Answer

^rey felt the power of Ivy's magic, enhancing
him. He knew that his ability to null magic was being
increased. When his talent countered hers, she could not
enhance others, but when hers worked on his, he had much
greater power than before. If anyone could penetrate this
network of deceptive dreams, he could—now.

What a pretty diversion it had been: letting them dream
that their powers were working, when they weren't. Or
perhaps they were, but not in the way they had supposed.
He had nulled the illusion of Damescroft, only to be de-
ceived by the illusion of the Good Magician's castle. Dolph
had changed form and carried them across a moat that
wasn't really there. Ivy had enhanced their way through
the wrong wall. They had all fallen for it, being overcon-
fident and too accepting.

But Ivy had caught on, and thereby saved them the ex-
cruciation of returning to Mundania. She had won the true
challenge by her wit rather than her talent. Now it was his
turn—and he suspected that his wit would be tested, too.

For one thing, had they really dreamed up those three
challenges themselves? He doubted it. The challenges had
been too pat. More likely they had been devised by some-
one else for the trio's benefit. That meant that the Good
Magician was here—and only Ivy's desperation had foiled

303

304 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 305

the deception. The one thing that could go wrong with it
had gone wrong.

As he pondered it, perhaps better able to come to terms
with it because of Ivy's Enhancement, he realized that what
they had experienced could indeed be taken as three chal-
lenges—but not of the simple type they had supposed. The
first could have been for Dolph: finding the address. Grey's
father's curse could have enabled Dolph to handle that
challenge. The second could have been for Ivy—and again,
the carefully set illusion had almost by chance been foiled,
as if the curse had helped her to understand its nature.
The third could be his own: to ascertain the true state of
things that might not be at all what they expected. Could
Murphy's curse give him the open-mindedness to see what
he had to see?

He certainly hoped so! There was only a week left in
his grace period. His decision in the dream Ivy had just
exposed had been correct: if he found no way to void
Com-Pewter's claim, he would return to Mundania. If Ivy
decided again to go with him—

But maybe they would not be faced with such an awful
choice! The Good Magician was said to have an Answer
for any Question, so if he could just locate Humfrey, all
would be well. He would be glad to serve for a year, just
to stay in Xanth with Ivy! Service here was better than
freedom in drear Mundania. Provided it was in a good
cause. Pewter's cause was evil, so he had to resist the
temptation to go along with it for the sake of being with
Ivy in Xanth. He hoped he still had the courage to leave
both.

"That's the best I can do," Ivy said. "If I enhance you
any more, you might explode." She had said it in jest,
but then perhaps remembered the glowworm, and didn't
laugh.

Grey concentrated on the landscape of Xanth he saw
before them. He knew now that this seeming reality was
illusion, the stuff of the dream. They needed to return to
reality, which was the appearance of the dream.

The landscape fuzzed, then faded out. They were back

before the Good Magician's castle, with Dolph beside
them.

"Hey, what happened?" Dolph asked. "I thought you
two were on your way out of Xanth!"

"It was part of the dream," Ivy explained. "We woke
up from it, in a manner.''

"But—"

"We're still doing it," she said. "Watch."

Grey concentrated on the castle. He didn't want to null
too much! Slowly it fuzzed, and then it faded out, leaving
the cottage of Damescroft as they had first seen it.

"Now we're back where we started," Ivy said. "But if
it's not the castle and not the cottage, what is it?"

Grey focused his doubt. The cottage frayed and came
apart. In its place—was the castle.

He exchanged a third of a glance with Ivy. Then he
focused again.

The castle fuzzed out, and the cottage returned.

"Well, it's got to be one or the other," Dolph said.

Grey pondered, and then he considered, and then he
cogitated, and finally he settled down and thought.
"Maybe it's neither," he said.

"But-"

"I think we all need to blank our minds, until we expect
nothing at all. Then whatever remains will be the truth."

"I can't blank my mind!" Dolph protested. "I'm al-
ways thinking about something!"

"What were you watching on the Tapestry?" Ivy asked
wamingly.

The cottage fuzzed. The image of something silken be-
gan to form, such as a giant pair of panties.

"My mind is completely blank!" Dolph cried guiltily.

The image fuzzed back into a formless pile of cloth,
which then faded out. The cottage reappeared.

"Blank," Grey said.

"Blank," Ivy agreed.

"Blankety blank," Dolph said.

Grey focused his doubt again. He doubted that either
cottage or castle was there, but he had no idea what might




306 Man from Mundania

really be there. He kept his doubt as pure as he could,
expecting nothing.

The cottage was fuzzed out. The castle tried to fuzz in.
Dolph forestalled it with more doubt, refusing to be tricked
by the present illusion.

An amorphous cloud developed, hovering uncertainly,
unable to become one form or the other. Grey continued
doubting, refusing to let it coalesce. He kept his expecta-
tions blank. Only reality would be allowed to manifest!
Gradually the cloud thinned, revealing—nothing.

"Oops," Ivy said.

Grey looked at her. "But there should be something!"

"We're out of the dream," she explained. "You nulled
it right down to nothing."

"Reality!" he exclaimed in disgust. And realized that
that was what he had expected.

Dolph stepped forward. "What's that?"

They looked. There was a box sitting on the ground.

They walked toward the box. The landscape seemed
completely barren; there were no trees or bushes, and no
sunshine or cloud. It seemed to be a wasteland, except for
the box.

There turned out to be three boxes, in a row, each dark
and oblong and large enough to hold a man.

"Oh, no!" Ivy breathed, horrified. "Coffins!"

Ttiere had been three in the Good Magician's family:

Humfrey, the Gorgon, and their son, Hugo.

"The dream address!" Dolph said, sharing her horror.
"It was the way to find them—but it didn't say they were
alive!''

Could the Good Magician have seen his death coming,
and acted to hide himself from Xanth so that no one would
know? But what was the point of that?

"To let others think he would one day return," Ivy said,
her thoughts pacing his. "So that Xanth wouldn't mourn
for him—or give its enemies courage."

"Enemies like Com-Pewter," Grey said, seeing it. "But
now we have undone his artifice, so that Xanth can no
longer be protected even by the threat of Humfrey's re-
turn."

Man from Mundania

307

"Com-Pewter must have known!" Ivy said. "That's
why he acted now!"

But Grey wasn't quite satisfied with that. "Why didn't
Com-Pewter simply tell us Humfrey was dead, then? So
that there was no chance to get an Answer?"

Ivy shrugged. "Maybe Pewter wasn't quite sure."

"And maybe it's not true!" Grey said. "Maybe we're
not out of this quest yet!''

"But if they are in coffins—"

"Electra was in a coffin, wasn't she?" Grey strode to
the nearest box. Now he saw an inscription on a plaque
set in it. But the words were indecipherable. "What does
this say?"

Ivy approached. She almost smiled. "Do Not Disturb,"
she read. "It's in Xanthian script. This must be Mun-
dania, so you can't read it."

"Or something like that," Grey agreed. "Electra was
in a similar state, I believe."

They checked the other coffins. Neither had a plaque.
"Maybe they don't mind being disturbed," Dolph offered.

"Probably so," Ivy said. "It was always the Good Ma-
gician who was grumpy about folk taking up his time."

"Then I'm going to open this one."

Ivy was shocked. "But you can't do that! It's not nice
to disturb the dead!"

"If he is dead," Grey said grimly. "I doubt it."
He put his hand to the lid of the coffin. There was no

fastening. He lifted, and it came up.
A wizened little man lay within, looking just as if he

were sleeping. "Hey, Magician Humfrey!" Grey said

boldly.

The eyelids flickered, then the eyes opened. The lips
parted. "Go away," they said.

"I am Grey Murphy, and I need an Answer," Grey
said.

"Go away. I am no longer giving Answers."
"Here is my Question: how can I void the service I owe
to Com-Pewter?"

"Go away," the mouth said, grimacing. "I'll give your
Answer when I'm done here."

Man from Mundania

308

"How long will that be?"
The mouth formed a fifth of a smile. "Is that another

Question?"

"No!"

"If you want an Answer, serve me until I return. Then
you may have it, if you still want it. Now go away—and
don't slam the lid." The eyes closed.

"There is an Answer!" Ivy breathed.

"But what good is it, if he returns after a year or more,
and I have to leave Xanth in a week?" Grey demanded.

The Good Magician's near eye squinched open again.
"No way. Mundane! You must serve until I return, with-
out interruption, or I will not be responsible for the con-
sequence."

"But I must serve Com-Pewter! That's my problem!"

"After you complete your service to me," the Good
Magician said firmly. "Otherwise you forfeit your An-
swer." The eye closed again.

"But how can I serve you, if you're asleep?" Grey
asked, hardly making sense of this.

"Go to my castle. You will find a way." The features
fell into composure; the Good Magician was back in his

dream.

Grey lowered the lid, depressed. Apparently there was
an Answer to his problem, but unless the Good Magician
returned to his castle before the week was out—which
seemed unlikely—Grey would have to go home to MUH-
dania without it. Since Humfrey had made it plain that
there was no time limit on the service he would owe for
the Answer, Grey would have to forfeit long before com-
pleting the service.

"The Good Magician always has a good reason for his
crazy Answers," Ivy said, trying to put a positive face on
it. "When the Gorgon came to ask whether he would
marry her, he made her serve as a castle maid for a year
before giving his Answer."

"But that's the very height of arrogance!" Grey said.

"So it seemed. But it gave her that time to work with
him, so that she could change her mind on the basis of
good information. When she didn't change her mind, he

Man from Mundania        309

married her. By that time she was familiar with every as-
pect of the castle and his practice, so had no problem. It
was really a very good way to do it, as everyone else
would have understood, had they been as smart as Hum-
frey."

"Well, I'm not smart enough to see how having to leave
Xanth before I get his Answer is going to do us any good!"
"Neither am I," she said. "But it must be so."

He let the subject drop, because he didn't want to argue
with her. But his depression was back in full force. To
think that there was a solution to his problem but that he
could not have it because of the insensitivity of the one

who had it—that was even worse than there being no so-
lution.

They returned to Xanth. They couldn't just walk there,
because they didn't know the way through this featureless
region, so Grey eased up on his doubt, and the cottage
returned. Then they retraced their route through the ad-
dress until they were back in the airport. Then Grey
resumed his doubting, and fell out of the dream.

He lifted his head from the gourd. "Cut the connec-
tion," he said. Willing hands turned the gourds, and Ivy
and Dolph woke. This time it was real.

Immediately they were besieged by demands for the
whole story, but only Dolph was interested in telling it.
"You should have seen the guts and gore in the Hurts!"
he exclaimed.

Next day they went to the Good Magician's castle. Dolph
became a roc and carried them there and dropped them
off, promising to return in time to take them to the border
of Xanth before Com-Pewter's grace period was up. In
fact, he promised to return every day, acting as courier for
anything they needed; that was certainly better than re-
maining grounded at Castle Roogna.

The two walking skeletons. Marrow Bones and Grace'1
Ossian, came along also, nominally to help clean up the
castle, but really as chaperones. The King and Queen did
not want to make a show of it, but they did not encourage
the appearance of unseemly behavior in their daughter.




310

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

311

Grey could hardly blame them. At any time Ivy could
change her mind and remain in Xanth, effectively breaking
off their betrothal (there was a different flavor to that word,
and he liked it better than "engagement") and returning
to the open market. Why should they risk having her prin-
cessly reputation tarnished in this short time?

Break the betrothal—he hated to admit it, but it did
seem to him that this was her most sensible course. She
was a creature of Xanth, and could no more be happy for
long outside it than, as she put it, a mermaid could live
on land far from water. There were magic devices that
could make her forget him, so that at least one of them
could be happy. When he returned to Mundania, he was
not going to let her go with him. What would become of
him, then, without either betrothed or parents, he did not
want to think about. But he knew it had to be. He i&fused
to be the agent of Xanth's degradation, no matter what it
cost him personally.

The castle was bleak and bare. The skeletons didn't
mind; they were pretty bare themselves. They set about
cleaning it out, and fixing separate chambers for the two
living folk. Soon nice soft beds were made, though the
skeletons really didn't see what was wrong with good old
fashioned cold stone. Similarly they renovated the kitchen,
knowing that living folk had a hang-up about eating reg-
ularly.

"But once we get it cleaned up, what else is there to
do?" Grey asked as they sorted through tumbled old vials
and set them neatly on the shelves. "And what's the point,
fixing up a castle for someone who isn't coming back to
it?" For they both knew that the Good Magician had no
intention of returning soon—if ever; this service was a

charade.

Ivy shook her head; she didn't know either. But at least
they were together, for this brief time.

They were hard at work sorting dusty tomes when there
was a disturbance outside. Marrow hurried in, rattling.
Grey and Ivy looked up in alarm, knowing it took a lot to
rattle the skeleton.

"A giant fire-breathing slug is charging the castle!"
Marrow reported.

They went to a parapet and looked. Sure enough, the
monster was steaming through the moat, causing the water
to boil where the fire touched. It was of course a slow
charge, for slugs were not rapid travelers, but powerful.

"We'd better flee!" Ivy said. "We can't stop something
like that."

"But surely part of my service is to protect the castle,"
Grey said. "I mean, even if I have to leave in a few days,
I might as well do the best I can while I'm here."

"But you can't even get close to that thing without get-
ting burned!" Ivy protested.

"It does seem uncertain of success," Marrow said.
"But Marrow can get close," Grey said. "Maybe the
slug is just lost. Marrow, would you be willing to ap-
proach it and ask what it wants? Can you speak its lan-
guage?"

"Only if it is from the gourd," Marrow said.
"If only Grundy Golem were here," Ivy said. "He can
speak any living language. If we just had some alternate
way to—" Then she brightened. "Maybe we do!"
"We do?"

"Remember the sign language? Let me see if that
works!" She had brought the book to the castle, in case
she had to return to Mundania, where she would be de-
pendent on this type of communication. Grey had not yet
been able to bring himself to tell her of his decision that
she had to remain in Xanth.

Now the slug was emerging from the moat and starting
up the outer wall. It was moving at a snail's pace, but
making definite progress.

Ivy leaned over the parapet. "Hey, sluggo!" she called,
waving her hands. "Can you understand this?" She made
the sign for "Hello": a gesture resembling the throwing
of a kiss with both hands. Grey was glad he understood
it, because otherwise he might have misunderstood it.

The slug paused looking up at her. Could it even see?
Grey wondered; it had no eyes, just antennae.




Man from Mundania

312

Then the antennae moved. One extended while the other
retracted. In a moment they reversed motion.

"It's answering!" Ivy exclaimed. "It knows sign lan-
guage!"

"Ask it what it wants," Grey said, heartened.

"What," Ivy said, making the sign by drawing her right
index finger down across her flat left palm. "Want?" She
held her two hands as if clutching something, and drew
them in to her.

The slug's antennae lined up, then moved forward tcfe
gether with marvelous slow-motion dexterity.

"Answer," Ivy translated. She had picked up a mar-
velous facility for this type of communication in a short
time; Grey realized that she must have enhanced her own
learning ability for it. Except that she had been in Mun-
dania at the time, so her talent shouldn't have been oper-
ative. He would have to ask her about that.

She faced Grey: "It wants an Answer, but I don't
know—"

"An Answer!" Grey exclaimed. "It thinks the Good
Magician is back!"

Ivy grimaced. "I'll try to explain." She made the sign
for conversation—the tip of one index finger moving to-
ward the lips while the other moved from them, then re-
versing the motions.

The slug remained stuck to the wall, responding with
its antennae. After a fair dialogue. Ivy turned to Grey.
"I'm not getting through. I don't know all the terms, and
it isn't awfully bright. As near as I can tell, it wants to
attend a slugfest."

"Maybe that doesn't mean the same as it does in Mun-
dania," Grey said.

"I'm not sure what it means," she said. "But we'd
better tell the slug something, so that it will go away.
Otherwise it's apt to slime the castle, and its breath will
set fire to the curtains."

Grey pondered. "All right. Tell it to make up a bunch
of notices in slug-speak, and post them on trees and rocks
and things where big slugs go. The notices will say SLUG-
PEST, and give the time and place. Then any interested

Man from Mundania        313

slugs will go there at the proper time. But tell it to allow
a year or two, because slugs don't travel very fast."

"I'll try." Ivy got busy with her signals. After a time
the slug, satisfied, turned around and slid slowly back
through the steaming moat and away from the castle.

They returned to their tome sorting. But soon there was
another interruption. "A goblin is knocking at the door,"
Marrow reported.

"You mean pounding?" Grey asked, remembering the
nature of goblins,

"No, this is a constrained, polite knocking."
"It must be a trick," Ivy said. "Let him in, then pull

up the drawbridge so his henchmen can't charge after he

has opened the way."

In due course they met the goblin in one of the cleaned-
up chambers. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
Grey inquired gruffly.

"I am very sorry to disturb you, Good Magician, but
when I saw that you had returned—"

"Wait!" Grey said, embarrassed. "I'm not the Good
Magician! I'm Grey, just doing a service for him." In
addition, there was something odd about the goblin.

"I beg your pardon. Grey," the goblin said. "I am
Goody Goblin. If I may have an appointment, I shall re-
turn at a more convenient time."

Grey realized what was bothering him about this goblin.
He was being polite! "It's not that! The Good Magician
isn't here right now, and I'm not sure when—"

"I am certainly willing to accept an Answer from an
assistant," Goody said. "I realize that the Good Magician
has far more pressing concerns than the problem of a mere
goblin."

Grey was beginning to feel like a heel. "Uh, just what
is your problem. Goody?"

"I seem to be unpopular with my kindred. Since natu-
rally I would like to assume a posture of leadership, and
to win the favor of a pretty gobliness, I wish to be advised
of appropriate corrective action."

"Well, I'd certainly like to help you, but—" Then Grey
had a bright notion. "I think you need to have a fouler




314

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

315

mouth. Most goblins I've met are obnoxious and violent.

If—"

"Oh, I couldn't be violent!" Goody protested. "That

would be unsocial."

"Well, maybe you wouldn't have to actually be violent,
if only you sounded violent. You could bluff your way
through. What you need is a really foul vocabulary."

"I would be glad to have it!" Goody agreed. "May I

purchase it from you?"

Grey glanced helplessly at Ivy. "No, I think you have
to learn it," she said. "But I think I know where you

can."

"That would be excellent!"

"Just a moment." She went to Marrow and whispered.
The skeleton departed, but returned in a moment with
something. Ivy set it on a chair. "Sit down," she told

Goody.

"Why thank you," the goblin said, taking the chair.
Because he was short-legged he had to jump up and land
on it. But the moment he landed, he sailed off again.
"^$*&£0!!" he exclaimed, causing the white curtains to
blush pink. Something flew from him and struck the wall

so hard it was embedded.

Grey caught on. She had put a curse burr on the chair!

"So you do know the terms," Ivy said, evidently sup-
pressing her own delicate blush, for it had been quite a
word the goblin had fired forth. "You just need to be
encouraged to use it."

"Go to the biggest, wildest curse burr patch you can
find, and sit down in the middle of it," Grey said. "I
guarantee that by the time you find your way out, you will
have the required vocabulary. Just make sure you remem-
ber the expressions that get you free. They can only be
used once against the curse burrs, but are infinitely reus-
able against goblins."

"Oh thank you, kind sir and lovely maiden!" Goody
said. "And what is your fee for this wonderful Answer?"

"No fee," Grey said quickly. "We're just here for a

few days. Good luck."

The goblin stood up to his full lowly height. "No, I am

afraid I must insist. You are doing me a service, and I
must do you one in recompense. That is only fair."

Fairness—in a goblin? Now Grey had seen everything!
"Well, er, if you feel that way, maybe you should, uh,
stay here a while, and when something comes up, er—"

"Excellent. I am sure there will be something."

Grace'1 appeared. "Show our guest to a suitable cham-
ber," Ivy said.

Heartened, Goody Goblin departed with the skeleton.
Grey was sure he would make good among the goblins,
after undertaking the corrective course.

They returned to their tomes—only to be interrupted
again. This time it was a flying fan: an instrument made
of bamboo that propelled itself by waving back and forth
so as to generate a jet of air. Ivy was able to communicate
with it by sign language, though some of this resembled a
fan dance. The fan turned out to be lost, and was looking
for fandom.

Now Grey had just a bit of Mundane experience that
related. "Form a fan club!" he exclaimed. "Then you
will be in the middle of fandom."

Satisfied, the fan flew off to find a suitable length of
wood to make a club.

They were about to return to the tomes, when yet an-
other supplicant arrived. "This is getting out of hand!"
Grey muttered. "We'll never get anything done if this
continues!"

"Maybe we should haul up the drawbridge again," Ivy
said. "I realize that seems unfriendly, but with all these
folk coming in, we'll have no rest or privacy at all if we
don't limit access."

"I'm beginning to understand why the Good Magician
was reputed to be reclusive and taciturn," Grey said, "if
this is what his life was like before he set limits."

"You see to the one that's inside, and I'll see to getting
the defenses set up," Ivy said with a smile. "Just don't
do too much for her." She departed.

When Grey saw the visitor, he understood Ivy's caution.
She was a lovely young human girl. "Oh Magician, please,




316

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

317

I beg of you, I'm desperate, I'll do anything!" she ex-
claimed.

"Please, I'm only, uh, filling in, and I may not be able

to help you," he said. "What—"

"I'm in love!" she exclaimed grandly. "But he doesn't
know I exist! Please—"

Grey ascertained that it was a young man of her village
she was interested in, who saw her only as a friend. She
did not want to make a scene, she only wanted him to
return her love. She was sure things would be fine, then.
It seemed to Grey that she was correct; she was a good
and lovely girl who would be good for a handsome lout
like that. Just as Ivy was good for Grey himself.

"Grace'1," he said, and the skeleton appeared. "Is there
a vial of love potion in the collection you have been sort-
ing?"

"Several," Grace'1 agreed.

"Bring one here." The skeletons were not always quick
on the uptake, perhaps because their skulls were hollow.

She brought one. Grey presented it to the maiden. "Slip
this in his drink. Make sure you are the first person he
sees after he drinks. You understand? A mistake could be

very awkward."

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "Oh, thank you, Magi-
cian!" She flung her arms around him and planted a kiss
on his nose. "But what about my service?"

"No service, this time," he said. But he realized that
this aspect, also, of the good Magician's practice made
sense. Folk were too eager to get something for nothing,
and were already flocking to the castle. If it was this bad
on the first day, how much worse would it be on the fol-
lowing days? "But in the future, probably some service
will be required." So that when she spread the word, it
would discourage the freeloaders.

"Oh? When?" She evidently thought he meant that she
would have to return to do the service.

He realized that it would hardly be expedient to call her
back; she would have to do it before she left. "Uh, within
the next few days. Grace'1 will show you to a chamber for
the night."

"That's fine," she agreed, and departed with the skel-
eton.

They finished the day, their tome sorting incomplete,
and retired to their separate chambers after an excellent
evening meal Grace'1 prepared. Grey lay awake for some
time, thinking about things. Now he appreciated why Good
Magician Humfrey might not be eager to return here in
any hurry. What were his prospects? An endless line of
supplicants, each requiring attention and research, while
his own work of whatever nature went undone. Grey and
Ivy had been here only a day, and already the word had
spread; the Good Magician had been here a century or so.

Yet he had to admit that he rather liked helping people
and creatures. He was learning things, too. He had thought
that all goblins were like those of the Golden Horde; now
he knew better. He had thought that monsters were for
fighting or fleeing, but the giant slug had only wanted
advice. Each case had to be judged on its merits, and none
were truly unworthy. It seemed a shame to shut them all
out, when they really did need help. /

But of course he could not help them. In a few days he
would be gone, even assuming he had competence for this.
He was a Magician, but his talent hardly applied to this
sort of thing. Well, if some creatures suffered from a dev-
astating hex or geis, as they called it, that was of magical
origin, he could probably nullify it. If there was illusion,
he could nullify that too, cutting through to the truth. Other
cases could be handled by ordinary common sense or a
little imagination. Others were amenable to the artifacts
of the castle, like the love potion. So there actually was a
lot that he and Ivy could do. Certainly it was the kind of
thing he'd rather be doing than leaving Xanth!

But he did have to leave Xanth, because soon Com-
Pewter's grace period would be over, and he would have
to serve the evil machine if he were not gone from Xanth.
Com-Pewter hardly cared about the welfare of individual
folk! The machine would set about taking over Xanth, and
Grey was aware that though his magic talent might not
readily be turned to doing good, it could certainly be




318 Man from Mundania

turned to doing evil by nulling the magic of anyone who
opposed Com-Pewter. He could not allow that to happen.

How he wished it were otherwise! That his father's curse
had been effective. Almost, it seemed, it had been; it had
enabled them to locate Magician Humfrey and talk with
him. But the Magician had refused to help in time. Sup-
pose Grey stayed in Xanth and the machine used him to
destroy much of what was good and decent in it, and then,
years later. Magician Humfrey returned? What kind of
Xanth would greet him? No, Grey had to leave Xanth;

there was no other way.

Unhappily, he slept.

In the morning there was a new person approaching the
castle. It was a female figure, naked and wild-haired. A
nymph? Then Grey recognized her. "Mae Maenad!" he
exclaimed.

"What could she want?" Ivy demanded. "We left her
well set up as the oracle on Parnassus!''

"Something must have gone wrong," Grey said. "I
have a feeling that plain common sense won't fix it."

Ivy glanced at him obliquely. "She was the first to call
you Magician, and you did kiss her. Do you suppose—?"

Grey laughed. "What attractive young woman would
have any interest in a nothing like me?"

Ivy's look transformed slowly from oblique glance to
direct stare. Grey realized that he was in trouble.

"Uh—" he said, with his usual social finesse.

"I'll settle with you later," she muttered significantly.
"Right now we'd better find out a way to slow her down
until we can figure out exactly what she wants before she
meets you."

A bright notion forged its way into Grey's mind. "The
Good Magician had challenges, didn't he? That didn't ac-
tually stop the people who came, but—"

"But slowed them down!" she agreed. "Until he could
do some research in his Book of Answers, and—" She
broke off.

"And we don't, uh, have that book," he finished.

"We, uh, certainly don't," she said, mimicking him

Man from Mundania        319

with a brief smile. "We also don't have suitable chal-
lenges. The layout of this castle was different each time
someone approached it; he must have had a lot of work
done between visits."

"But it's solid stone! You can't just move that around!
The whole thing would tumble down!"

Ivy pondered. "He must have had an easier way. He
had the centaurs rebuild this castle, long ago. Now it oc-
curs to me to wonder: why rebuild it, when it was already
standing and only needed refurbishing? Those centaurs re-
ally worked; I saw them on the Tapestry. They seemed to
have about ten different designs, and they worked on them
all, but somehow it became only one castle."

"Like the dream castle and cottage, maybe," he said.
"Switching readily from one to the other, according to the
need, to fool intruders."

"According to the need," she echoed. "Grey, I think
you've got it!"
"I do?"

"There must be a command or something to change the
castle, to make it different. Something he could invoke."

Grey nodded. It was making sense! "We'd better invoke
it soon; Mae is almost here."

"I'll try." Ivy took a breath. "Castle—change form!"
They waited, but nothing happened. Ivy tried other
commands, but nothing worked.

"Uh, maybe since it's my service we're doing," Grey
said. "I mean, it's my problem, having to serve Com-
Pewter, so I'm the one who owes the Good Magician the
service. The castle—well, it sorta has to cooperate, if—"

"It sorta does," Ivy agreed, mimicking him again.
"Well, give it a command."

Grey turned to face the main portion of the castle. "In
the name of Good Magician Humfrey, change form!" he
intoned.

There was a rumble. The castle shook. Walls slid
around. In a moment the platform they were on heaved,
and the stones of the wall rose up high.

Grey discovered Ivy in his arms. They were no longer
on a parapet, but in a cupola whose arched windows over-




320

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

321

looked the moat. They could see the slanting roofs of the
castle, different from before. The entire layout of the cas-
tle had changed.

"It obeyed me!" Grey exclaimed, amazed.

"You didn't believe your own reasoning?" Ivy inquired
archly. "That it had to cooperate, if you were to perform
the service for the Good Magician?"

"I guess my faith wasn't strong," he agreed. Then he
looked down again. "But we still have to deal with Mae."

"Well, the drawbridge is up, so that may slow her,"

Ivy said.

"The Maenads can swim; they love to bathe in their
wine spring. Except for—" He brightened. "That's it!"

"That's what?"

"She doesn't like blood! Is there a vial of imitation
blood in the collection? I mean, something that would—"

"Gotcha, Magician!" Ivy said. "Grace'1!"

The lady skeleton appeared. "Something funny has
happened''—she began.

"All under control," Ivy said smoothly. "Is there a vial

of blood in the chamber?"

"Certainly. Concentrated blood extract."
"That should do. Pour it into the moat."
The skeleton, not having much brain, didn't argue. She

went off to find the vial.

They watched from the cupola. In due course a bony
hand extended from a lower window. Something dribbled

into the moat.

Abruptly the moat turned deep red. It looked as if the
river of blood from Girard had been diverted and now
coursed around the castle. There was even a wisp of vapor
rising from it, as if it were hot. The Good Magician's vials

remained potent!

Mae came to the brink and stared into the moat, evi-
dently appalled. She had left the Maenads because she had
no taste for fresh blood; what would she do now? Well, if
her concern was less than critical, this would cause her to
turn around and go back to Mount Parnassus, saving them

trouble.

The woman put her hands to her "face in a gesture of

grief. Suddenly Grey felt like a Mundane heel. She was
weeping!

The color of the moat faded in the vicinity of the Wild
Woman. The water turned clear, the clearness spreading
slowly outward. What was happening?

"Her tears are washing out the blood," Ivy said. "I
didn't know Maenads could cry."

"Maybe true ones can't," Grey said. "I think she is
surmounting the first challenge."

"And we still don't know what her problem is or how
to fix it!" she exclaimed.

Grey nodded. "We're here for only a few days, but I
want to do the best I can while I am here. Maybe it's a
test, and if I do a good job, the Good Magician will return
at the last moment and give me my Answer." It was a
wild hope.

"That just might be!" she agreed. "This is certainly
turning out to be more than just a castle cleaning!"

There was a shadow in the sky. "There's another one
already!" he said, his heart sinking. "A roc. Neither moat
nor walls will slow that down!"

"No, it's my brother, silly!" Ivy said. "We'll tell him
to fetch us the Book of Answers, so you can answer Mae
and send her back immediately.'' It was evident that Ivy
remained uneager to have the shapely Wild Woman remain
close to Grey for any longer than was strictly necessary.
He liked that.

"You tell Dolph," he decided. "I'll figure out the next
challenge. I think we can use Goody Goblin after all."

"See that you do," Ivy said darkly, and hurried off in
the direction of a roof terrace.

Grey went in search of the goblin, whose chamber might
not be where it had been. All the labyrinthine passages of
the castle were different, but there were not a great num-
ber, and soon he did find the goblin.

"Do you know, Magician, I must have been unobser-
vant yesterday," Goody remarked. "I could have sworn
the passage was of another nature."

"It was," Grey explained shortly. "We changed the




322        Man from Mundania

layout. Now I would like you to do me one service before
you go."

"Gladly, Magician!"

"There is a Wild Woman coming into the castle. You
must go down and try to scare her off. Don't hurt her, just

frighten her."

"A Wild Woman? But they don't affright readily, and I
am hardly the type to—" The goblin paused, realizing
something. "I believe I saw a mirror chamber downstairs.
In that I could assume the aspect of twenty goblins. If I
made faces and moved around, I might put on a good
show. But if she catches on—"

"Then she wins the challenge, and your service is
done," Grey said. "You will then be able to go your way

with a clear conscience."

"Excellent! I shall intercept her as she passes through
that chamber." Goody hurried down the hall.

But he still needed a third challenge. What would really

faze a Wild Woman?

Grey snapped his fingers. He searched out the maiden.
"Maiden, there is a service you may be able to perform
to acquit your debt to me."

"What would that be. Magician?" she asked, just a

trifle warily.

"There is a Wild Woman coming into the castle soon.
I want you to intercept her after she passes the goblin, and
give her a manicure and hair styling and female outfit-
ting—a frilly dress, slippers, and uh—" He faltered.

"Panties?" she prompted.

"Uh, yes. That sort of thing."

"Oh, yes, I am excellent at that sort of thing!" she
agreed. "But a Wild Woman—"

"You will stand athwart a locked door which bars her
passage to me. She must suffer the treatment or be forever
barred. If she departs without the treatment, your debt is
paid. If she agrees to it, you will—how long would it

take?"

"To do it right? Hours!"

"Perfect! When it is done, knock on the door, and I
will open it, and you may go home."

Man from Mundania

323

And if that didn't stop the Wild Woman, nothing would,
he thought as he went looking for Ivy. But by that time, he
should have the Book of Answers, and be able to handle
her Question. He really appreciated Humfrey's system,
now!

Mae encountered the goblin in the mirror chamber. She
screamed: not in fear, but in outrage. It seemed that Mae-
nads didn't like goblins. She chased the first figure she
saw, and smacked into the mirror. After several such
smacks she began to catch on to the nature of the chal-
lenge. She noted her own reflections in the mirrors, and
avoided these. Finally she found a panel in which there
was neither a goblin nor Wild Woman and leaped through
it, for that was the exit. She had won the second challenge,
and it had only taken her an hour to do it.

Meanwhile Dolph had taken off for Castle Roogna. As
a roc he could cover the distance rapidly—but once there
he would have to convince King Dor to give him the vol-
ume, which was kept locked up for safety until the Good
Magician's return. Ivy would have sent a note, but even
so, it could take hours. Would the book arrive in time?

The maiden intercepted the Maenad. There was another
screech of outrage. Almost the wild woman turned back—
but the same flaw of character that caused her to avoid
blood made her decide to submit to this transcendent in-
dignity. The maiden started to beautify and civilize her
appearance.

Two hours passed. Grey knew that the beautification
could not last much longer. Where was Dolph?

Then the roc showed on the horizon. The big bird was
carrying a book!

It turned out to be a monstrous volume. Grey clutched
it in his arms and set it on a table evidently sized for it.
He opened it—and was bewildered by such a maze of en-
tries that he could not make any sense of them. It would
take him an hour just to find his place!

The door opened. A stunning Mundane woman entered.
Grey blinked. This had to be the Maenad—but what a
change! Grace'1 must have found a cache of supplies for
this job. She was in a lovely pink dress with bows, and

324

Man from Mundania

Man from Mundania

325

wore pink slippers with flowers on top, and her hair was
bound in another bow with another flower. Her finger and
toenails were delicately tinted, and so were her lips. Her
legs were so smooth that they were surely exhibited in
hose, and there was a definite suggestion of panty out of
sight. She looked as if she were going to a debutante party.

She had come for her Answer, surmounting all the chal-
lenges—and he was unable to use the Book of Answers!

Now what was he to do?

Her petite mouth opened, the Question incipient.

"You're beautiful," he said, partly to stave off her
Question, and partly because it was true.

"You have humiliated me!" she cried. "You have made
me cry, and chase a goblin, and—what?"

"You're beautiful," he repeated. "If you wish, I will
null out all that magic as you stand before a mirror, and
you will see that your beauty owes nothing to enchantment
or nymphly arts. Any time you wish to retire from the
oracle, I'm sure you could readily nab a village lout."

She considered. "Maybe I will. It has occurred to me
since meeting you that-there may after all be uses for men
other than as food. But right now I have a Question."

He had hoped he had diverted her. Now he was in for

it. "Ask."

"I am running out of gibberish to spout when I sit over

the cleft. The priest says I can't be a priestess unless I
have plenty of vile-sounding gibberish. How can I get it?"

His worst fear had come true: here was a Question he
couldn't answer! How could a person "find" gibberish to
spout when it no longer came naturally?

Then he remembered how Goody Goblin's nice lan-
guage had deteriorated when he had sat on a curse burr.
Suppose Mae did the same thing?

He looked at her form, and knew he couldn't recom-
mend that remedy; it would be a defilement of beauty.

But another memory came to him: of his father, in past
years, laboring over a Mundane torture known as income
tax. Much of the problem had been the maddeningly in-
comprehensible tax manual.

"Grace'1," he said.

The lady skeleton appeared.

"Fetch the volume labeled Revised Simplified Tax Man-
ual. "

Soon Grace'1 was back with the volume, one of the pile
of dusty tomes Grey and Ivy had sorted through. He had
thought that particular one useless, but had been too busy
to throw it out yet.

He opened the tome. "Now I want you to look at this
and try your best to make sense of it."

"A book?" Mae asked, frowning skeptically. She
looked at the page. "It shouldn't be hard to blip toggle
subtract twenty-eight percent of Line 114 from the total of
Lines 31 and 89, whichever is less coherent, and zap frag-
gle Form 666 under Line 338A unless outgo is more than
indicated in Supplementary Brochure 15Q, in which case
fromp beezle—" She looked up. "This is sheer gibber-
ish!"

"Precisely," Grey said. "This is the volume of gibber-
ish. No one has made sense of it in centuries. Take it with
you, and you will never run out of inspiration."

"Oh thank you, Magician!" she exclaimed, clutching
the tome to her bosom. "And what service—"

Grey started to say that she needed to perform no ser-
vice, then realized that he just might need a Wild Woman
to challenge some other visitor. The Good Magician's pol-
icy of requiring a term of service was not merely to dis-
courage applicants, but to make the system feasible. It all
fitted together—now that he had spent a day, as it were,
in the Good Magician's shoes. "Remain for a while," he
said gruffly. "The skeleton will show you to a room. I
shall notify you of your service in due course."

Then, seemingly abruptly, his time was up. They had
spent most of a week putting Humfrey's castle in order
and in handling the constant pleas for Answers. The Good
Magician had not returned, and now it was evident that
he was not going to. Their wild hope had proved vain.

Dolph was ready to change form and carry Grey and
Ivy away. Marrow and Grace'1 had agreed to supervise the
shutting down of the castle, with the help of those who




326 Man from Mundania

owed service. The brief restoration of Answers was about
to end.                                     *

Ivy's determination to come with him remained firm.
She bid a tearful farewell to the castle and the creatures
of it, and would do the same as they stopped by Castle
Roogna on the way to the isthmus. Forced to choose be-
tween him and her homeland, she had done him the im-
mense kindness of choosing him, and he would always
remember and treasure that, no matter how dreary his life
in Mundania became. With her it would have been bear-
able; without her it would be unbearable. But he had to
do what he had to do. He would fly with her back to Castle
Roogna, then say what he had to say, in the presence of
her family. He knew that King Dor and Queen Irene would
understand, and would support his position. Ivy might hate
him, for a time, but she did have magic alternatives.

"It's time," he said through the lump in his throat. "I
wish I could stay here forever, hectic as it may be; I really
like feeling useful! But I can't." That was only the half of
it! This coming flight would be his last with her, and with
her love.

Ivy was blinking back her tears. She took his hand,
proffering silent comfort. How little she knew!

Dolph changed form. He became the roc, precariously
perched on the roof. One of his huge claws happened to
slip on a dead leaf on a tile; he lost his balance, and had
to spread his wings to recover. The tip of one wing clipped
a turret—and a flying feather was broken.

Dolph changed back. He jammed a crushed finger into
his mouth. "I can't—mmph—fly with that—mmph—broken
feather!" he said around it.

"You poor thing!" Ivy said with instant sympathy. "I'll
bandage it."

"But how will we get to the isthmus in time?" Grey
asked. He knew that no other mode of transport would be
fast enough; they had depended on Dolph and had stayed
just as late as they could risk it. He felt guilty for that,
knowing he was playing it too close, but savoring his last
moments in Xanth and with Ivy.

Man from Mundania        327

"Look in the Book of Answers!" Ivy said over her
shoulder as she took her brother off for bandaging.

He shrugged and decided to do just that. He went to the
book and opened it. Maybe there was a magic way to fix
a feather instantly. He had begun to get a glimmer of the
way the book was organized; it was alphabetical, but so
detailed, with so many subentries and cross-references,
that it was easy to get lost on the way. He looked for
"Feather" and discovered such an enormous listing of
types and classes and qualities of feathers that he decided
it would be faster to look up "Roc" instead. He flipped
over the pages, and naturally turned too many, finding
himself in the S's. He started to flip the pages back, and
his eye happened to light on the entry immediately by his
left thumb: "Service." Curious, he read it. This, too, had
many subtypes and qualifications. One he saw at the bot-
tom of the page was "Good Magician's."

Grey paused, his hand still about to turn the page. He
read that portion. "... that by ancient custom and prac-
tice having the force of law, service to the Good Magician,
such as in payment for Answers, takes precedence over all
other services of any type, regardless of their dates of
inception, notwithstanding commitments that may have

been made or inferred or otherwise designated, for the
reason that ..."

This was almost as obscure as the tax manual! It must
have taken the Good Magician most of his century or so
of life to decipher this opacity! It would have been fasci-
nating to unravel the actual meaning of such entries, maybe
sitting by a warm fireplace with Ivy in the evenings . . .

Grey had to thumb tears out of his eyes. The truth was
that, despite all its confusion and frustration, this scant
week in the Good Magician's castle had been wonderful.
He had somehow stumbled through and managed to do
some favors for the good folk and creatures of Xanth, and
each case had been a separate item of education, opening
his eyes to another intriguing aspect of the magic realm.
But mainly he had felt so very useful! It had seemed as if
what he did mattered to others. Never before he met Ivy
had he had that feeling, and never before this castle had

Man from Mundania

328

he had it in relation to strangers. He had felt, however
foolishly, important. For these few days. He hated to give
that up just about as much as he hated to leave Xanth. It
wasn't just for him; it was for those he had helped, and
might have helped in times to come. Had it been possible

to stay—

. . . takes precedence over all other services . . .
Grey stopped still. Could that be true? Could it apply
even to the service he owed to Com-Pewter?

He reread the passage, carefully, making sure he un-
derstood each part of it. It did seem to be true! And that

just might mean—

"Oh, here you are," Ivy said. "Did you find a way for

us to make it in time?"

"I found something else, by pure coincidence," Grey

replied, excited. "I—we may not have to go!"

"Not have to go? But in another day Com-Pewter—"
"Is this book the ultimate authority?" he asked. "I

mean, is there anything else that overrules its Answers?"
"No, nothing, of course. The Good Magician was always

the ultimate authority on anything. He was the Magician of

Information, after all. So his Book of Answers—why do you

ask?"

"This says that service to the Good Magician takes pre-
cedence over any other service, no matter when that other
service was undertaken. By the Custom and Law of Xanth.
Which seems to mean that until I complete my service to
Humfrey, I can't serve Com-Pewter. If that's true—"

"But he said he might never return!" she protested.
"You'd be stuck with serving him all your life, and maybe

never even get an Answer!''

"No," he said, understanding dawning like sunrise on
the millennium. "I've already had my Answer. I just didn't
understand it, before. Now I must serve, if need be, for
the rest of my life—right here. Doing this. And do you

know—"

"It's no bad thing," she finished, her confusion bright-
ening into awe.

"No bad thing at all," he agreed.

Man from Mundania        329

Then they were in each other's arms, hugging and kiss-
ing and crying with relief.

Grey's eye caught sight of a magic mirror on the wall.
He hadn't noticed it before, but now he saw that it was
tuned to the evil machine's cave. Pewter had been watch-
ing all the time! But on the machine's screen were the
words CURSES—FOILED AGAIN!

What an amazing coincidence, that he should happen
on this very passage in the Book of Answers, after Dolph
had by sheerest mischance broken a feather, so that—

Coincidence? Mischance? No, it was more like magic!
The one thing, or series of things, that could have gone
wrong with the evil machine's long-range plot to conquer
Xanth—that thing had occurred, because of the nature of
Murphy's curse on Corn-Pewter's ploy. It was perhaps in-
cidental that this also accounted for Grey's lifelong hap-
piness with Ivy. Perhaps.

Grey knew better, now.

"Thanks, Dad," he murmured.