Man From Mundania (26 page)

"I didn't say that. But I'm afraid your feelings will

change when you leam more about me."

"I_"

"So I think it is time to convince you that Xanth is real,

and magic, and all the rest. Before we get any deeper.

Because there are complications about associating with a

princess that you may not like."

"Well, of course if you are a princess, what would you

118 Man from Mundania

want with me?" he asked, forcing a laugh. "I'm nothing,

even at home, and less in any magic land."

"I have come to know you, and I like you for what you

are," she said evenly. "I don't think you are nothing or

less, I think you just aren't recognized as a worthwhile

person."

' 'You wouldn't feel that way if you were really a prin-

cess."

Ivy felt a surge of anger, but controlled it. He really

didn't know any better! "I would feel exactly as I do now.

But if you were to—to marry me, you might find yourself

in an embarrassing position."

"To mar—" He coughed, and started over. "Assuming

that any princess would, uh, well, what would be embar-

rassing?"

"Xanth has no reigning queens, only kings."

"Oh." But obviously he didn't see.

"But that simply means that when a woman assumes

the throne, she is known as the king. My mother was king

for a while. Only a Magician or Sorceress can be king,

you see."

"That lets me out!" he said, smiling. "I have no magic

at all!"

"Yes. So if I were king, you would be queen."

He gazed at her, his mouth round. He swallowed. ' 'Why

does it seem that you're not joking?"

"So if you don't want to be Queen of Xanth, you

shouldn't marry me," she concluded. "Because eventu-

ally, not soon I hope, I will be king."

He shook his head. "I—I realize this is all theoretical,

Ivy. You're not saying you would—would marry me.

You're just warning me of the rules of your land. So I'm

keeping my head and just saying that if I were—you know,

uh, married—I wouldn't really care what they called me.

But you know, if you really were a princess, I sure

wouldn't ask you—I mean, that just isn't my league!"

"But would you decline if I asked you?"

He whistled. "I wouldn't be able to! But—"

"You may change your mind," she repeated, "when

the time comes."

Mem from Mundania
       
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He just looked at her, unable to comment,

Well, she had said what she had to say. She had given

him fair warning. But that was probably the least of the

hurdles ahead!

There seemed to be no path. Girard Giant had come

here, but he had simply stepped over the trees; they

couldn't follow his tracks! He had selected this to be pri-

vate so his body wouldn't be disturbed, and private it was;

there seemed to be no familiar animals either.

She could use the magic mirror to call home, of course.

But she wanted to convince Grey about Xanth and magic

first, and to give him time to think it through and come to

his conclusions. If that made him hate her, they could

settle it privately. If it didn't—well, she had to be honest

with herself about her feelings. She liked him a lot, and

the moment she let herself go, she could be in love with

him. She condemned herself for being foolish, but he was

a nice person, and she knew he wasn't chasing her for her

position or power. That gave her a deep feeling of security

that she had lacked before. She had discovered, in these

last few days, that what she wanted in a man had nothing

much to do with position, appearance, physical strength,

or intelligence, but a lot to do with decency, conscience,

and loyalty. She could trust Grey, and that made much of

the rest irrelevant.

So she avoided use of the mirror, and would bring it

out only in an emergency. They would pick their way south

toward Castle Roogna—this did seem like the north central

region of Xanth, though she wasn't sure why she thought

that—and she would keep alert for things along the way

that might help convince Grey of the truth.

"I guess I'd better make a path through this jungle,"

Grey said, stepping toward a patch of curse burrs.

"No!" Ivy cried, too late.

Grey brushed by the burrs, and several lodged in his

trouser leg and dug their spikes through the material and

into his flesh. "Youch!" He reached down to pull one off.

"Wait!" Ivy said, again too late.

Grey's fingers touched the burr. "Owmpth!" he snorted

r

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Mem from Mundania

Man from Mundania

121

through his nose, evidently stifling a more coherent com-

ment.

"Stay where you are," Ivy called. "Don't get any more

on you. Those are curse burrs; the only way you can get

them off is by cursing. One at a time; each curse has to

be different and original."

"I wouldn't curse in front of a lady," he protested.

"And when you get them off, back out carefully. We'll

find another route."

"I have a better way," he said grimly. He brought out

his folding knife. "Any burr that clings to me is going to

get sliced to pieces!"

"That won't work," Ivy said—yet again too late.

For Grey was already flourishing the little knife at the

burrs—and all six of them hastily dropped off. Ivy stood

openmouthed.

"That showed 'em," he said with satisfaction.

"You cursed them all off!" Ivy said. "With the same

curse! That's not supposed to be possible."

"Of course it isn't," he agreed. "How could mere

words affect sandspurs? You have to slice them off."

"Sandspurs?"

"That's what they're called where I came from. People

do tend to curse when they try to get them off, I'll grant

that, but there's no magic involved. Come on, I'll take off

any that get on you. We can continue this way; it does

seem to be the most open route."

Bemused, Ivy followed him. He would have to leam

about curse burrs the hard way: when he tried to use the

same curse against a new batch.

Sure enough, three burrs latched onto her skirt. "Can

you get these off without cursing?" she inquired.

"Sure." He stepped close and extended his knife to-

ward her skirt. "Turn loose of her, or I'll slice you!" he

said with mock fierceness, and touched her skirt with the

point of his knife.

The three burrs dropped off.

"Maybe these are a different variety," Ivy said doubt-

fully.

"Maybe they just know who's got their number," he

retorted. Then he turned and faced ahead. "All right, you

burrs, listen up: any of you who touch either of us will

get hurt, so stay clear if you know what's good for you!"

He smiled. "Now if curses work, that'll keep them clear."

Ivy shrugged. Grey stepped boldly forward, and she

followed—and no curse burrs got on either of them.

How could this be? It was as if magic was stopping the

burrs—yet Grey was Mundane, with no magic, not even

any belief in it. It seemed more likely that his curses would

fail to have effect than that his threat with the dinky knife

would frighten all the burrs. Was it possible that they didn't

know he was Mundane and thought his threat was backed

by magic?

They passed beyond the curse burr patch and came to a

stately tree with colored flowers. Grey walked toward it,

evidently meaning to pick one.

"Careful," Ivy warned him. "That's a two-lips tree!"

"A tulip tree? No it isn't. I've seen them; their flowers

are different."

"But you aren't where you came from. Here, a two-lips

tree—" But Grey wasn't paying attention, so she let it go.

He would find out!

Grey stepped close, reaching up for one of the larger

flowers. It avoided him. He moved closer yet, stretching—

and another flower nudged down and kissed him on the

cheek with a significant smack.

He paused, startled. "I could have sworn that—"

"That's right," Ivy said smugly. "Those are kissing

flowers."

"Impossible," he said. "Flowers can't kiss."

"Two-lips," she explained. "They like to kiss folk."

"I don't believe it." He stepped yet closer into the tree.

"Let's see whether anything kisses me while I'm watch-

ing."

He waited, but nothing happened, to Ivy's surprise.

Usually a two-lips tree would kiss anything that got within

its range, making loud smacking sounds that carried across

the forest. It was harmless, but embarrassing.

"Maybe it doesn't like the way you taste," she said.

122 Man from Mundania

"Maybe it's magical, so can't stand scrutiny," he

retorted, stepping away from the quiescent tree.

"Just don't try that with a tangle tree," she said, dis-

gruntled.

"I know what that is. But I'll have to see it grab some-

thing, before I believe it."

They went on. The vegetation thinned and the ground

turned sandy. There was a feel of magic about it that both-

ered Ivy. There was something about this region, and it