Man From Mundania (28 page)

Mundania would be like a mermaid moving to land: pos-

sible, but problematical.

No, she could marry Grey only if he remained in Xanth

with her—and that meant she had to have the approval of

her parents. That meant in turn that she couldn't marry

him. Yet her heart wished that she could.

She would simply have to get her heart under control.

She knew that. But she also knew it was going to hurt.

Maybe when Grey finally learned that magic was real,

he would suffer a revulsion against it and Xanth and her,

and choose to go home to Mundania alone. That would

solve her problem, as the decision would be out of her

hands. But it still would hurt.

Man from Mundania
       
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Ivy lay quietly on the pillows, her eyes closed, the tears

nevertheless running down her cheeks.

She woke to the wan light of a shrouded morning. As

her eyes adjusted she discovered Grey sitting beside her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Of course I am," she said, sitting up and shaking a

stray leaf out of her hair. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I, uh, thought you were unhappy or

something, maybe sick. I was worried."

She smiled. "I must look wretched! But that's because

I'm not used to sleeping out. Let me find a brook to wash

in, and I'll be better."

"Uh, sure. I'd have gone out and looked around, but I

didn't want to leave you alone."

"I wouldn't want you going out alone," she retorted.

"Not until you believe that the dangers are real."

They went out together, and did find a spring nearby.

"Let me test it," Ivy said. "These things can be danger-

ous."

"Why? Are they poisoned?"

"Not exactly. Some are love springs."

"Oh, yes—they make the creatures who drink from them

fall in love with each other. What a horror if we should

drink from one of those!"

Ivy glanced at him sharply. Grey tried to hold his face

straight, but couldn't, and had to laugh. She laughed too,

more with relief than humor. "It's not as nice as that,"

she warned him. "Love may be a euphemism. When it

happens, they breed immediately, being unable to restrain

themselves, even if they are of two different species. It is

believed that that's how the major crossbreeds got started—

centaurs, merfolk, harpies, and so on. So you wouldn't

want to drink from one by accident."

"Of course I wouldn't," he agreed, but he looked

doubtful.

Ivy squatted by the spring and concentrated, enhancing

it. If it was a love spring, the enhancement would cause

it to affect the plants growing around it, and they would

Man from Mundania

128

start loving each other in whatever manner they could

manage.

Nothing happened. "It's all right," she reported. "It's

just water."

"I'm sure it is," he agreed condescendingly. Again she

had to suppress her annoyance. He didn 't know any better.

This was the other side of it: because of his ignorance,

she could trust his feeling for her, but it was also a con-

stant source of irritation. She wasn't used to such diver-

gent feelings for the same person.

They dipped out double handfuls of water to drink. Then

she washed her face and hands. The rest other was feeling

a bit grubby, but she decided not to strip and wash. After

all, she would just have to climb back into the same dirty

clothing. She had changed to her clean clothes the night

in the mock Castle Roogna, and then gotten those dirty

trudging along the river of blood and pushing the boulder.

She would probably have to throw away this Mundane out-

fit the moment they reached Castle Roogna. She hoped

Agenda, whose clothing it was, wouldn't mind.

That was funny, the way Grey had met such a series of

peculiar girls who used the room before Ivy was sent there

by the Heaven Cent. And the way Com-Pewter had been

there, with a bit of magic. Grey had told her that an odd

"program" from someone called Vaporware Limited had

changed the machine. She wondered whether Vaporware

lived in Xanth; that might explain a lot. Still, magic wasn't

supposed to work at all in Mundania, so a mystery re-

mained.

"Com-Pewter," she said. "How did he do magic in

Mundania?"

"My computer didn't do magic," Grey said. "It just

had a good translation program, so we could talk. I

guess." He didn't seem to be entirely satisfied either. "It

sure was strange what it did, though. It admitted at the

end that it was setting me up for you."

"Setting you up?"

"It had something to do with all those oddball females.

When I demanded a good one, it brought you. I don't

know how, but I'm sure glad it did."

Man from Mundania
       
129

"No one brought me!" she protested. "The Heaven

Cent sent me."

' 'Whatever. I think that program knew you were com-

ing, somehow, and took the credit. But I don't care. My

life was like dishwater until you came, and then it was like

sunrise."

Ivy had learned about dishwater in Mundania, because

the same dishes had to be used over and over again, which

meant they had to be washed. "And I was a dishwater

blonde," she said, remembering how the magic green had

washed out of her hair.

"You were beautiful," he said.

She tried to think of some clever response, but her mind

froze up. He was telling the truth. He had seen her unen-

hanced—drab really—yet had liked her. There could be no

better compliment than that.

"We'd better eat," she said, changing the subject.

"I saw some—they looked like lollypops, growing out

of the sand, back there," he said.

Ivy checked. "Sugar sand," she said. "Naturally sweet

things grow in it. Here are some sugar doughnuts, and

here's sugarcane." She picked some of each. "And a sug-

arplum tree over there. We'll get sick of sweets, but at

least it's food."

They ate. "You're right," he said as he chewed on the

candy-striped cane. "I am getting tired of sugar! I never

thought I'd see the day!"

"How is it that you eat these magical plants, but still

don't believe in magic?" she asked mischievously.

"Sugar doughnuts and sugarplums aren't magical," he

protested. "Though I admit that in Mundania sugar sand

and sugarcane have different definitions."

They moved on, bearing south. They came to a well-

worn path. "Great!" he exclaimed. "Now we won't have

to plow through brush!"

"This isn't one of the enchanted paths," she said. "Un-

known paths are not to be trusted until their nature is

understood. You never can tell where they might lead."

He peered at the tangled jungle across from the path.

"Can't we risk it, this once? My legs are tired."

130 Man from Mundania Man from Mundania 131

Ivy considered. Her legs were tired too. "Maybe if

we're careful. If we hear anything, we should get right off

it, though."

They walked down the path. It was indeed a nice one,

well beaten down. It wound along the contour, passing a

number of fine fruit and nut trees.

Then they turned a curve, and discovered three goblins

blocking the path ahead.

"Oopsy," Ivy said. "Goblins are never good news. Run

the other way!"

They turned and ran back around the curve—and dis-

covered three more ugly goblins. They were trapped.

"They don't look very big," Grey said. "Maybe I could

knock them down."

"There are always dozens more goblins near the first,"

Ivy said darkly. Sure enough, more goblins were already

crowding in behind the three. They were squat little men,

almost black, with big heads, hands and feet, and huge

grimaces.

"Maybe they're friendly," he suggested hopefully.

"Goblins are never friendly. I'll have to summon help."

Ivy brought out her magic mirror. "Castle Roog—"

A goblin leaped forward and grabbed the mirror from

her hand. "None of that, slut!"

Grey leaped for the goblin, but it was already too late;

the mirror had disappeared amidst the throng. "Don't fight

them!" Ivy screamed. "We'll have to talk our way out

of this!"

Grey, seeing the throng, desisted; it was obvious to any-

one that they could not hope to fight their way clear of

such a number.

A goblin chief appeared, distinguished mainly by his

greater ugliness. "You're going to talk your way out of

this, wench?"

"I'm no wench!" Ivy protested. "I'm Princess Ivy!"

"And I'm the king of the dragons!" the goblin retorted.

"Har, har, har!" All the goblins joined in the coarse

laughter. "Well, I'm Grotesk Goblin, and we're the Gob-

linate of the Golden Horde, and we don't care who you

are!"

"Well, give me back my mirror, and I'll prove it!" she

said. "My father will recognize me."

"And will send hostile magic against us, if you are,"

the goblin said. "We don't need any of that. Better if he

just doesn't know what happens to you." He turned his

head to the side. "Tell the Golden Gals to heat up the pot;

we've got two live ones for supper tonight."

Immediately a messenger goblin set off, running on his

stubby legs down the path. He really wasn't golden; it was

evidently just a name they had chosen.