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