"And the girl he painted, near the end? Who played the music."
"The doctor's daughter, Marguerite. A nice girl. Like you."
"This is odd," Marrow said. "I have never been a mad Mundane painter before. If I were capable of such emotion, I would have considerable sympathy for the man."
"He warranted sympathy," Trent agreed. "Had he lived in Xanth, magic could have helped him. He might have been successful and happy here. Instead he had to face life in Mundania."
"And he couldn't face it," Marrow said.
"I don't know how anyone faces drear Mundania," Metria said. "No magic-my kind doesn't even exist there." She hesitated. "Yet there was a certain ambiguity of feeling."
"A certain what?" Gloha asked.
"Doubt, uncertainty, indefiniteness, vagueness, equivocation-"
"I believe she had the right word the first time," Marrow said.
"Whatever," the demoness agreed crossly.
Trent glanced at her. "You animated my wife for a summarized period of fifteen years," he said. "I must say that if you did not feel emotion, you emulated it well enough to fool me."
"I felt it," Metria said, looking unusually pensive. "Understand, in real life I think you're an impossibly rejuvenated over-the-hill mortal human man, a fit object for endless scorn. But in that mad vision, I-she-" Something very like a tear glistened in her eye. "She did love you, didn't she?"
Gloha understood how that could be. "And I loved her, and my son," Trent agreed. "Others called her unlovely, but in her spirit she was beautiful, and I think as time passed that came to be reflected in her physical aspect. She did not understand me as the painter did, but she treated me well from the outset, and taught me the language and ways of that land, and when we came to love each other, I learned responsibility in a way I had never known before. She made me what I was when I returned to Xanth."
"And you made her lovely," Metria said. "And she got you a fine son. Then that evil magic came-"
"A plague," he agreed. "An illness that swept across that land of France, and other lands, taking its toll of folk each time. I don't know why it spared me. I sold the farm we had inherited to finance an expedition to Xanth, which I happened to know how to reach, and recruited soldiers of fortune, trained them, prepared them to face magic, and then had the irony of achieving the kingship of Xanth without conquering it. But I would never have returned, if I had not lost those I loved." There seemed to be a tear in his own eye. The mad scene had shaken him. That, too, Gloha understood.
Meanwhile, she was also amazed. She was learning aspects of the Magician's history she had never suspected. "Didn't you love Queen Iris?" she asked.
"No. That was a marriage of convenience. We both understood the necessity."
"And your daughter, the Sorceress Irene?"
"Her, yes. And my grandchildren. Which is why I am ready to fade out of the picture and leave Xanth to them. My day is past."
Still Metria was unusually hesitant. Now she assumed the form of the woman she had animated in the vision, of mature age, with her hair tied back in a bun. She was not laughing at them or dissolving into smoke. She just gazed at Trent without speaking again.
"Please don't tease me with that form," Trent said mildly. But Gloha remembered how deceptive his mildness could be. His true emotion was not far from expression.
"I-I know it is the madness," Metria said. "But I never felt feeling before. Would you-"
The Magician evidently didn't trust this. "Would I what?"
The demoness actually fidgeted. "Would you-kiss me?"
Trent stared at her, then exchanged glances with Marrow and Gloha, who were just about as surprised. Then Gloha looked at Marrow, and decided. "Go ahead. I don't think she's teasing you."
"Agreed," the skeleton said.
"This is madness," Trent murmured. Then he took the image of his first wife in his arms and kissed her. It turned out to be a long and feeling kiss.
"Thank you," Metria said when he released her. There was definitely a tear on her face. "I wish it could have been real." Then she slowly faded out.
Magician Trent stood where he was, thinking his own thoughts. Then he spoke in a whisper. "Thank you, Demoness, even if it was only a game to you."
"I think she meant it," Gloha said. "The madness touched her."
"As it touched all of us," Marrow agreed. "More than ever now, I want a soul."
"Nevertheless, I think we had better get out of this region," Trent said, shaking off the mood. "I understand that the madness can strike in many ways, and many are not pleasant."
The others were glad to agree. They started walking at a swift pace, with Gloha flying ahead every so often to spy out the path. But several more waves of madness caught them anyway, though not as intense as the first ones; they were getting out of the worst of it.
During one siege Gloha returned to her harpy home and resumed her normal life-but somehow after her experience in the secret cave, that life was less satisfying than ever. In another siege the focus was on Marrow Bones, who got spooked in the boneyard by a rampaging monster-Gloha recognized Smash Ogre-and fled, only to get lost on the Lost Path. He was finally found by Esk Ogre, son of the ogre who had spooked him. Fortunately Esk was only quarter ogre, so they got along well enough. They even found another lost denizen of the gourd, Bria Brassie, who was so pleased to be found that she married Esk and set about living happily ever after. But Marrow never returned to the original boneyard, which was why he was now looking for half a soul. In that sequence Trent animated Esk's image and Gloha animated Bria's image. At one point Bria inadvertently embarrassed Esk, so she apologized in the gourd realm manner, by kissing him passionately. That was probably what led to their later marriage. But this time it was Trent and Gloha kissing. Oh well, Gloha thought as the madness faded; it wasn't as if it were the first time she had infringed on matters best left to the Adult Conspiracy.
In another siege Gloha was farmed out to harpy relatives on the Gold Coast. There she caught a rare illness. They were afraid it was the purple-hulled pink eye, whose cure would have required her to be dipped into a snakepit filled with a mixture of poultry poop and peanut hulls. Fortunately Magpie learned that it was something else, and all that was required was a foul-tasting potion. What a relief, even if the potion did taste like the contents of that snakepit. Marrow played the doctor who had made the misdiagnosis, and Metria returned to play Magpie. That was an easy role for another demoness to assume.
At last they won free of it, and came to the shore of Lake Ogre-Chobee. There were ordinary houses and gardens, not the creations of memory or horror. The madness was over. Gloha was glad they had passed through only the fringe, where it came in waves rather than solidly; more of a dose would have been troublesome indeed. Now all they had to face were the Curse Fiends.
"Let's go say hello to the neighbors," Gloha said. "Just to be sure they're real." Trent and Marrow nodded.
Chapter 8
PLAY
They approached the first house. It was a neat cottage set amidst a yard with clusters of pretty mushrooms, with a little box on a post outside. On the box was neatly printed the words RICHARD C. WHITE.
"What's that?" Gloha asked.
Trent's lips pursed. "We may not be clear of the madness after all," he murmured. "That is a Mundane mailbox. See, the man's name is on it. They commonly use two or three names there."
"They keep men in little boxes in Mundania?" Marrow inquired.
Trent smiled. "No. Only letters, which are delivered each day."
"Delivered?" Gloha asked. "You mean the storks carry letters there?"
"No, there is a somewhat more cumbersome mechanism which varies from place to place and time to time. My concern is not about that, but because of the Mundane nature of it. My madness memories concerned Mundania."
"Do you remember a house like this?"
"No. So perhaps the similarity is mere coincidence."
The door of the house opened and a
man emerged. He seemed to be in his mid-forties. "Hello," he called. "Are you folks lost?"
"We hope not," Trent answered. "We have just passed through a Region of Madness, and we hope this is not more of the same. Are you Richard White?"
"Yes. And I understand about the madness. I came through it myself, last year, on the way here. It was an awful experience, yet tinged with longing. I had my house built right at the edge, so I could return through it if I ever decide to. Usually the madness stays within bounds, though it has spread somewhat the past few days." He paused. "But I'm being insensitive. You folk are surely tired and confused after your experience. Come in and relax. Did you pass through the worst of it?"
"Only the fringe," Trent said. "Fortunately. I am Magician Trent, and this is Gloha Goblin-Harpy, and this is Marrow Bones. None of us are hostile folk." They followed Richard into the house.
"I have read of you, Magician Trent," Richard said. "But I thought you had faded out. And, if I may say so, you look remarkably young."
"I have been temporarily youthened for this adventure," Trent explained. "When it is done, I will fade out"
Richard brought out a bowl of oddly thin slices of something. Gloha wasn't sure what they were for. Trent took one, smiling. "I believe these are potato chips, a Mundane delicacy in some regions." He put one to his mouth, and it crackled as he chewed it. "You are recently from Mundania?" he asked Richard.
"Yes, I arrived about a year ago, though of course that may not relate well to Mundane time. The folk of the Black Wave and the Curse Friends helped me build my house. Now I put in septic tanks for them." He smiled at Gloha's blank expression. "Those are big containers I install underground. They take the refuse from the families' privies and turn it into soil for their plants."
"Oh, magic," Gloha said, understanding. "We could use some of those for the harpy dung heaps."
"Perhaps I shall be able to do business with them, when I catch up here," Richard said. "I like making Xanth cleaner and healthier, though it is really much better than Mundania."
Gloha finally got up courage to bite into a potato chip. It crunched for her too. "It's good!" she exclaimed, surprised.
"I am not yet fully acclimatized," Richard said. "I like it in Xanth, and I'm glad to be here, but there were some Mundane things I missed. So I tried to have them duplicated here. These aren't the best potato chips, but my technique is improving."
Marrow was looking at a picture on the wall. "Is that your home?"
Richard laughed. "No, that's my effort to show Jenny Elf's home in the World of Two Moons. I hope to meet her some day. We have something in common, in the way we-" But he broke off, evidently suffering a painful memory.
"You seem to know a lot about Xanth, for a Mundane," Trent remarked. "How did you come here?"
"I always liked Xanth," Richard said. "When things soured at home, I-well, it's a story I'd prefer to leave in the Region of Madness. I'm just glad that I managed to find my way here, instead of getting lost."
"Few Mundanes are able to get here," Trent agreed. He looked around. “We thank you for the food and dialogue. We have to go on about our quest now. Gloha and Marrow are looking for things we hope to find somewhere along this route."
"I understand. Some day perhaps I will travel, hoping to find a good companion." He showed them out.
"How did you get such pretty mushrooms?" Gloha asked, admiring the many clumps.
"I had some Mundane paper money with me when I arrived," Richard explained, "I knew it was useless here, so I buried it in jars for safekeeping, in case I should ever go back to visit my sister. But my hiding place turned out to be no good, because the mushrooms sprouted over each jar."
"Leave them there," Gloha said. "It's Xanth's way of keeping you here."
"It must be," he agreed. He glanced in the direction they were going. "I've never been down that way. I've heard there's a giant there, and I don't want to ran afoul of him."
"Giants aren't necessarily hostile," Trent said. "But we appreciate the warning. We'll be careful."
They walked on, refreshed, waving goodbye to the nice man. They found a convenient path around a small hill. There was a tree house: someone had cut a door and windows into an old beerbarrel tree and made it into a house. There was no longer any smell of beer, so the tree must have drained some time before. It was surrounded by fancy iris flowers. Nearby were assorted fruit trees, and one spreading nut, bolt, and washer tree.
A woman of about thirty-three was just fetching in some edible washers as their party passed. She had harvested those that were in reach, and was trying to get her fingers on one that was just beyond. She was standing on tiptoes, somewhat unsteadily.
"Let me help you," Marrow said, stepping close. She turned and saw him. "Eeeeek!" she screamed, putting a good five e's into it. "Death!"
Gloha hurried forward, understanding the confusion. "No, merely a friendly walking skeleton," she said quickly. "He means you no harm."
The woman took heart. "A sweet little goblin girl," she said. Then her eyes went beyond. "And a young man."
"I'm Gloha," Gloha said. She introduced the others, giving only their first names. "We're on a private quest."
"I'm Janet," the woman said. "Janet Hines. I haven't been here long. I'm sorry I screamed. I have been told there is a giant in the vicinity, so I'm a bit nervous."
Marrow reached up and brought down the washer. He handed it to Janet. "In the realm of bad dreams, where I originated, it was my job to frighten folk," he said. "I apologize for coming upon you so suddenly."
"No, that's all right," Janet said. "I have heard of your kind. I shouldn't have reacted. Thank you for helping."
"How did you come here?" Gloha asked.
"It is a dull story. I wouldn't want to bore you."
"We recently emerged from the Region of Madness," Trent said. "We are relieved to find ourselves among ordinary folk."
"Well, it started when I was fourteen, in Mundania," Janet said. "I got sick. I was a pretty girl, some said, but this wasting disease-"
"You are still a handsome woman," Trent said, accurately enough. Gloha wasn't sure that anyone over the age of twenty could actually be pretty, but he hadn't used that word.
"It took away my ability to move, and blinded me, so that all I could do was listen, and blink my eyes to respond. But my mother read books to me, and wrote letters for me. I even had a nice new his named after me-and I found it growing here, so I knew this was where I belonged, when I left Mundania."
That explained the irises. "But what do you do, most of the time?" Gloha asked.
"I've just been learning how to use my body again. It was a shock when I began to see, and I still don't see very well, but it's a little better each day. I had to get used to all the sights. At first I had to crawl out to pick up fruits and nuts and bolts that dropped from the trees, but later I learned to walk again. I think I'm almost normal now."
"But don't you get lonely, living alone?" Gloha asked, and was sorry the moment she said it, realizing that it wasn't a proper question.
"I do miss my mother, who took care of me all those years," Janet admitted. "But I don't think I can go back. I'm a little afraid to meet any other people. I haven't had the courage to go far from this house I found."
"How long were you ill?" Trent asked. "Nineteen years," she said sadly. "Then you never had an adult life," Gloha said. "No friends, no-" She stopped herself, realizing that she was going wrong again.
"I had friends," Janet said. "They came in and read to me. But I suppose it was rather limited."
"Maybe you should take a walk around the hill," Gloha said. "There's a nice man there you might like to meet. He's from Mundania too."
"Oh? I didn't realize. Perhaps I will." They left Janet and went on to the southeast. But soon they came up against the shore of the lake.
"But are the Curse Fiends directly on the line Crombie pointed?" Trent inquired. "My impression is that it transects the lake, but not the cent
er where the fiends live. Perhaps we can avoid them. They are not known for their friendliness to strangers."
"Oh, pooh!" a voice exclaimed. "I was hoping you wouldn't realize that you didn't have to brace the Curse Fiends. It would have been so much more interesting."
Trent exchanged a three-way glance with Gloha and Marrow: the demoness had just confirmed his suspicion.
"In that case we might as well walk around the lake," Gloha said, relieved. "Which end does the line cross?"
"The south end, I think. So we can walk south around it."
"Curses, foiled again," Metria's voice came. Gloha wondered about that. She was afraid that there was something they were about to encounter that the demoness would find interesting, so Metria was trying to make them think the opposite. But that was only a suspicion, and in any event, they had to circle the lake one way or the other, or make a boat. Walking around seemed less likely to trigger an encounter with the Curse Fiends.
However, they encountered something else: an ant engagement. There seemed to be an ant war on, for an army of combatAnts were laying siege to a giAnt hill. Each ant was huge, and most looked formidable. "I think we had best detour around this," Trent murmured. "It seems that the warnings about the presence of a giant were well taken; we just didn't understand what kind. I could transform those ants that come close, but they could overwhelm us if they charged in from all sides."
An Antenna quivered. The head turned toward them. "That looks like a defendAnt," Marrow remarked. "See the Antagonistic mandibles."
"Let's get out of here," Gloha said. "We don't have an Antidote to getting chomped up."
They retreated. But then they heard the ant's Anthem, carrying to the distAnt wings of the formation. They were summoning their throng for an Anticipated attack. The sound was triumphAnt.
"I think we had better hurry," Marrow said. “They may see us as cliAnts."
"I think we need an inherAnt defense," Trent said. "They are already surrounding us."