Man From Mundania (21 page)

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!

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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.

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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!"

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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.

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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,

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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