Man From Mundania (17 page)

from here?"

"Wherever this sailing mountain takes us," she replied.

"We should keep watch, and when it passes some region

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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."

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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.

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"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-

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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