Authors: Piers Anthony
Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Princesses, #Magic, #Epic, #Fantasy fiction; American, #Xanth (Imaginary place)
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