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