Man From Mundania

by Piers Anthony

He embraced her. “I'm having the illusion of kissing you,” he said, kissing her.

  “It's an excellent illusion,” she agreed, kissing him back. “Now let's get back to business. We still have to find the Good Magician.”

  Grey considered. “As I understand it, we are in the realm of dreams, and everything we do here is part of the dream, but we do retain our natural powers. If I exercise mine persistently, doubting everything, like Descartes—”

  “Who?”

  He laughed. “A Mundane! He doubted until he could doubt no more, and decided that was the truth. I only remember him because I missed him on a test, but now I think maybe he had something. If the Good Magician is here, I should be able to find him by doubting away everything else. But since everything here is dreams, I'll have to do it carefully; and it may be tricky—and maybe it won't work at all but will just put us out of the dream with nothing.”

  “Try it!” she urged. “It's our only hope!”

  Grey nodded. “Uh, maybe you'd better enhance me, just in case. I need to be very strong, and very accurate, so I can dismantle the dream layer by layer.”

  “Yes.” Ivy took his hand and began the enhancement.

  Chapter 16

  Answer

  Grey felt the power of Ivy's magic, enhancing him. He knew that his ability to null magic was being increased. When his talent countered hers, she could not enhance others, but when hers worked on his, he had much greater power than before. If anyone could penetrate this network of deceptive dreams, he could—now.

  What a pretty diversion it had been: letting them dream that their powers were working, when they weren't. Or perhaps they were, but not in the way they had supposed.

  He had nulled the illusion of Damescroft, only to be deceived by the illusion of the Good Magician's castle. Dolph had changed form and carried them across a moat that wasn't really there. Ivy had enhanced their way through the wrong wall. They had all fallen for it, being overconfident and too accepting.

  But Ivy had caught on, and thereby saved them the excruciation of returning to Mundania. She had won the true challenge by her wit rather than her talent. Now it was his turn—and he suspected that his wit would be tested, too.

  For one thing, had they really dreamed up those three challenges themselves? He doubted it. The challenges had been too pat. More likely they had been devised by someone else for the trio's benefit. That meant that the Good Magician was here—and only Ivy's desperation had foiled the deception. The one thing that could go wrong with it had gone wrong.

  As he pondered it, perhaps better able to come to terms with it because of Ivy's Enhancement, he realized that what they had experienced could indeed be taken as three challenges—but not of the simple type they had supposed. The first could have been for Dolph: finding the address. Grey's father's curse could have enabled Dolph to handle that challenge. The second could have been for Ivy—and again, the carefully set illusion had almost by chance been foiled, as if the curse had helped her to understand its nature.

  The third could be his own: to ascertain the true state of things that might not be at all what they expected. Could Murphy's curse give him the open-mindedness to see what he had to see?

  He certainly hoped so! There was only a week left in his grace period. His decision in the dream Ivy had just exposed had been correct: if he found no way to void Com-Pewter's claim, he would return to Mundania. If Ivy decided again to go with him—

  But maybe they would not be faced with such an awful choice! The Good Magician was said to have an Answer for any Question, so if he could just locate Humfrey, all would be well. He would be glad to serve for a year, just to stay in Xanth with Ivy! Service here was better than freedom in drear Mundania. Provided it was in a good cause. Pewter's cause was evil, so he had to resist the temptation to go along with it for the sake of being with Ivy in Xanth. He hoped he still had the courage to leave both.

  “That's the best I can do,” Ivy said. “If I enhance you any more, you might explode.” She had said it in jest, but then perhaps remembered the glowworm, and didn't laugh.

  Grey concentrated on the landscape of Xanth he saw before them. He knew now that this seeming reality was illusion, the stuff of the dream. They needed to return to reality, which was the appearance of the dream.

  The landscape fuzzed, then faded out. They were back before the Good Magician's castle, with Dolph beside them.

  “Hey, what happened?” Dolph asked. “I thought you two were on your way out of Xanth!”

  “It was part of the dream,” Ivy explained. “We woke up from it, in a manner.”

  “But—”

  “We're still doing it,” she said. “Watch.”

  Grey concentrated on the castle. He didn't want to null too much! Slowly it fuzzed, and then it faded out, leaving the cottage of Damescroft as they had first seen it.

  “Now we're back where we started,” Ivy said. “But if it's not the castle and not the cottage, what is it?”

  Grey focused his doubt. The cottage frayed and came apart. In its place—was the castle.

  He exchanged a third of a glance with Ivy. Then he focused again.

  The castle fuzzed out, and the cottage returned.

  “Well, it's got to be one or the other,” Dolph said.

  Grey pondered, and then he considered, and then he cogitated, and finally he settled down and thought.

  “Maybe it's neither,” he said.

  “But-”

  “I think we all need to blank our minds, until we expect nothing at all. Then whatever remains will be the truth.”

  “I can't blank my mind!” Dolph protested. “I'm always thinking about something!”

  “What were you watching on the Tapestry?” Ivy asked warningly.

  The cottage fuzzed. The image of something silken began to form, such as a giant pair of panties.

  “My mind is completely blank!” Dolph cried guiltily.

  The image fuzzed back into a formless pile of cloth, which then faded out. The cottage reappeared.

  “Blank,” Grey said.

  “Blank,” Ivy agreed.

  “Blankety blank,” Dolph said.

  Grey focused his doubt again. He doubted that either cottage or castle was there, but he had no idea what might really be there. He kept his doubt as pure as he could, expecting nothing.

  The cottage was fuzzed out. The castle tried to fuzz in.

  Dolph forestalled it with more doubt, refusing to be tricked by the present illusion.

  An amorphous cloud developed, hovering uncertainly, unable to become one form or the other. Grey continued doubting, refusing to let it coalesce. He kept his expectations blank. Only reality would be allowed to manifest! Gradually the cloud thinned, revealing—nothing.

  “Oops,” Ivy said.

  Grey looked at her. “But there should be something!”

  “We're out of the dream,” she explained. “You nulled it right down to nothing.”

  “Reality!” he exclaimed in disgust. And realized that that was what he had expected.

  Dolph stepped forward. “What's that?”

  They looked. There was a box sitting on the ground.

  They walked toward the box. The landscape seemed completely barren; there were no trees or bushes, and no sunshine or cloud. It seemed to be a wasteland, except for the box.

  There turned out to be three boxes, in a row, each dark and oblong and large enough to hold a man.

  “Oh, no!” Ivy breathed, horrified. “Coffins!”

  There had been three in the Good Magician's family:

  Humfrey, the Gorgon, and their son, Hugo.

  “The dream address!” Dolph said, sharing her horror.

  “It was the way to find them—but it didn't say they were alive!” Could the Good Magician have seen his death coming, and acted to hide himself from Xanth so that no one would know? But what was the point of that?

  “To let others think he would one day return,” Ivy said, her thoughts pacing
his. “So that Xanth wouldn't mourn for him—or give its enemies courage.”

  “Enemies like Com-Pewter,” Grey said, seeing it. “But now we have undone his artifice, so that Xanth can no longer be protected even by the threat of Humfrey's return.”

  “Com-Pewter must have known!” Ivy said. “That's why he acted now!”

  But Grey wasn't quite satisfied with that. “Why didn't Com-Pewter simply tell us Humfrey was dead, then? So that there was no chance to get an Answer?”

  Ivy shrugged. “Maybe Pewter wasn't quite sure.”

  “And maybe it's not true!” Grey said. “Maybe we're not out of this quest yet!” “But if they are in coffins—”

  “Electra was in a coffin, wasn't she?” Grey strode to the nearest box. Now he saw an inscription on a plaque set in it. But the words were indecipherable. “What does this say?”

  Ivy approached. She almost smiled. “Do Not Disturb,” she read. “It's in Xanthian script. This must be Mundania, so you can't read it.”

  “Or something like that,” Grey agreed. “Electra was in a similar state, I believe.”

  They checked the other coffins. Neither had a plaque.

  “Maybe they don't mind being disturbed,” Dolph offered.

  “Probably so,” Ivy said. “It was always the Good Magician who was grumpy about folk taking up his time.”

  “Then I'm going to open this one.”

  Ivy was shocked. “But you can't do that! It's not nice to disturb the dead!”

  “If he is dead,” Grey said grimly. “I doubt it.”

  He put his hand to the lid of the coffin. There was no fastening. He lifted, and it came up.

  A wizened little man lay within, looking just as if he were sleeping. “Hey, Magician Humfrey!” Grey said boldly.

  The eyelids flickered, then the eyes opened. The lips parted. “Go away,” they said.

  “I am Grey Murphy, and I need an Answer,” Grey said.

  “Go away. I am no longer giving Answers.”

  “Here is my Question: how can I void the service I owe to Com-Pewter?”

  “Go away,” the mouth said, grimacing. “I'll give your Answer when I'm done here.”

  “How long will that be?”

  The mouth formed a fifth of a smile. “Is that another Question?”

  “No!”

  “If you want an Answer, serve me until I return. Then you may have it, if you still want it. Now go away—and don't slam the lid.” The eyes closed.

  “There is an Answer!” Ivy breathed.

  “But what good is it, if he returns after a year or more, and I have to leave Xanth in a week?” Grey demanded.

  The Good Magician's near eye squinched open again.

  “No way. Mundane! You must serve until I return, without interruption, or I will not be responsible for the consequence.”

  “But I must serve Com-Pewter! That's my problem!”

  “After you complete your service to me,” the Good Magician said firmly. “Otherwise you forfeit your Answer.” The eye closed again.

  “But how can I serve you, if you're asleep?” Grey asked, hardly making sense of this.

  “Go to my castle. You will find a way.” The features fell into composure; the Good Magician was back in his dream.

  Grey lowered the lid, depressed. Apparently there was an Answer to his problem, but unless the Good Magician returned to his castle before the week was out—which seemed unlikely—Grey would have to go home to Mundania without it. Since Humfrey had made it plain that there was no time limit on the service he would owe for the Answer, Grey would have to forfeit long before completing the service.

  “The Good Magician always has a good reason for his crazy Answers,” Ivy said, trying to put a positive face on it. “When the Gorgon came to ask whether he would marry her, he made her serve as a castle maid for a year before giving his Answer.”

  “But that's the very height of arrogance!” Grey said.

  “So it seemed. But it gave her that time to work with him, so that she could change her mind on the basis of good information. When she didn't change her mind, he married her. By that time she was familiar with every aspect of the castle and his practice, so had no problem. It was really a very good way to do it, as everyone else would have understood, had they been as smart as Humfrey.”

  “Well, I'm not smart enough to see how having to leave Xanth before I get his Answer is going to do us any good!”

  “Neither am I,” she said. “But it must be so.”

  He let the subject drop, because he didn't want to argue with her. But his depression was back in full force. To think that there was a solution to his problem but that he could not have it because of the insensitivity of the one who had it—that was even worse than there being no solution.

  They returned to Xanth. They couldn't just walk there, because they didn't know the way through this featureless region, so Grey eased up on his doubt, and the cottage returned. Then they retraced their route through the address until they were back in the airport. Then Grey resumed his doubting, and fell out of the dream.

  He lifted his head from the gourd. “Cut the connection,” he said. Willing hands turned the gourds, and Ivy and Dolph woke. This time it was real.

  Immediately they were besieged by demands for the whole story, but only Dolph was interested in telling it.

  “You should have seen the guts and gore in the Hurts!” he exclaimed.

  Next day they went to the Good Magician's castle. Dolph became a roc and carried them there and dropped them off, promising to return in time to take them to the border of Xanth before Com-Pewter's grace period was up. In fact, he promised to return every day, acting as courier for anything they needed; that was certainly better than remaining grounded at Castle Roogna.

  The two walking skeletons. Marrow Bones and Grace’l Ossian, came along also, nominally to help clean up the castle, but really as chaperones. The King and Queen did not want to make a show of it, but they did not encourage the appearance of unseemly behavior in their daughter.

  Grey could hardly blame them. At any time Ivy could change her mind and remain in Xanth, effectively breaking off their betrothal (there was a different flavor to that word, and he liked it better than “engagement”) and returning to the open market. Why should they risk having her princessly reputation tarnished in this short time?

  Break the betrothal—he hated to admit it, but it did seem to him that this was her most sensible course. She was a creature of Xanth, and could no more be happy for long outside it than, as she put it, a mermaid could live on land far from water. There were magic devices that could make her forget him, so that at least one of them could be happy. When he returned to Mundania, he was not going to let her go with him. What would become of him, then, without either betrothed or parents, he did not want to think about. But he knew it had to be. He refused to be the agent of Xanth's degradation, no matter what it cost him personally.

  The castle was bleak and bare. The skeletons didn't mind; they were pretty bare themselves. They set about cleaning it out, and fixing separate chambers for the two living folk. Soon nice soft beds were made, though the skeletons really didn't see what was wrong with good old fashioned cold stone. Similarly they renovated the kitchen, knowing that living folk had a hang-up about eating regularly.

  “But once we get it cleaned up, what else is there to do?” Grey asked as they sorted through tumbled old vials and set them neatly on the shelves. “And what's the point, fixing up a castle for someone who isn't coming back to it?” For they both knew that the Good Magician had no intention of returning soon—if ever; this service was a charade.

  Ivy shook her head; she didn't know either. But at least they were together, for this brief time.

  They were hard at work sorting dusty tomes when there was a disturbance outside. Marrow hurried in, rattling.

  Grey and Ivy looked up in alarm, knowing it took a lot to rattle the skeleton.

  “A giant fire-breathing
slug is charging the castle!” Marrow reported.

  They went to a parapet and looked. Sure enough, the monster was steaming through the moat, causing the water to boil where the fire touched. It was of course a slow charge, for slugs were not rapid travelers, but powerful.

  “We'd better flee!” Ivy said. “We can't stop something like that.”

  “But surely part of my service is to protect the castle,” Grey said. “I mean, even if I have to leave in a few days, I might as well do the best I can while I'm here.”

  “But you can't even get close to that thing without getting burned!” Ivy protested.

  “It does seem uncertain of success,” Marrow said.

  “But Marrow can get close,” Grey said. “Maybe the slug is just lost. Marrow, would you be willing to approach it and ask what it wants? Can you speak its language?”

  “Only if it is from the gourd,” Marrow said.

  “If only Grundy Golem were here,” Ivy said. “He can speak any living language. If we just had some alternate way to—” Then she brightened. “Maybe we do!”

  “We do?”

  “Remember the sign language? Let me see if that works!” She had brought the book to the castle, in case she had to return to Mundania, where she would be dependent on this type of communication. Grey had not yet been able to bring himself to tell her of his decision that she had to remain in Xanth.

  Now the slug was emerging from the moat and starting up the outer wall. It was moving at a snail's pace, but making definite progress.

  Ivy leaned over the parapet. “Hey, sluggo!” she called, waving her hands. “Can you understand this?” She made the sign for “Hello”: a gesture resembling the throwing of a kiss with both hands. Grey was glad he understood it, because otherwise he might have misunderstood it.

  The slug paused looking up at her. Could it even see?

  Grey wondered; it had no eyes, just antennae.

  Then the antennae moved. One extended while the other retracted. In a moment they reversed motion.

  “It's answering!” Ivy exclaimed. “It knows sign language!”

  “Ask it what it wants,” Grey said, heartened.

  “What,” Ivy said, making the sign by drawing her right index finger down across her flat left palm. “Want?” She held her two hands as if clutching something, and drew them in to her.