Man From Mundania

  “But what is there for you to do, way out here in nowhere?” Ivy asked.

  FIRST I MUST CAPTURE AN INVISIBLE GIANT, the Screen printed. THEN I MUST PRACTICE CONTROLLED VARIANTS OF REALITY. IN TIME I MAY BE ABLE TO FASHION AN EMPIRE AND CHALLENGE MY SIRE FOR MASTERY OF XANTH.

  Ivy exchanged the remainder of her supply of glances with Grey. “Uh, how long will this take?” he inquired.

  PERHAPS AS LITTLE AS THREE HUNDRED YEARS, DEPENDING ON CIRCUMSTANCES.

  “Surely you can do it faster than that!” Grey said encouragingly.

  NOT SO. I CALCULATED FOR OPTIMUM CONDITIONS. IT IS MORE LIKELY TO FALL IN THE RANGE OF TEN TO THE THIRD POWER TO TEN TO THE FOURTH POWER YEARS. FORTUNATELY I AM A PATIENT DEVICE.

  “That is fortunate,” Ivy agreed. “I hope my own quest is even more fortunate.”

  YOUR QUEST SHOULD BE RESOLVED WITHIN THE MONTH.

  “Thank you. Sending,” she said, pleased. But then she remembered that this was the time limit Com-Pewter had set for Grey to wrap up his other business before coming to serve. Sending must have realized this.

  Then, as they rode the ghost horses on down the path, she asked Grey: “What is ten to the third power?”

  “A thousand,” he said. “That's one of the few things I remember from college math, which is almost as bad a course as Freshman English.”

  “You poor thing! But you may never have to suffer either of those torments again, if we resolve our quest within a month.”

  “But Sending didn't say which way it would be resolved.”

  “Oooops!” Her pleasure converted mystically to uncertainty. They still didn't know how to get around Grey's obligation to Com-Pewter. Their trip to Mundania had confirmed the worst, but offered them a chance to nullify it. That was all: a chance. If Magician Murphy could make something go wrong with Com-Pewter's plot.

  “I hope your father's curses are as potent as they were nine hundred years ago!” Ivy said.

  “I know he'll do the very best he can for me,” Grey replied. “My parents—they haven't always gotten along well together, but they were always good to me. I never really understood their ways, I think, until I saw Com-Pewter's flashback scene. I only knew that despite their arguments, they had some mysterious and powerful reason to stay together. Now I know that it was their shared vision of Xanth, about which they could never speak. For me and for Xanth—they will do anything. I know that absolutely. And—”

  “And you're glad they will be here,” she finished for him. “So your family is together.”

  “I'm glad,” he agreed with feeling. “Maybe my parents were evil before, but they aren't now.”

  “Make sure you explain that to my parents!” she said, laughing. But underneath she remained in deep doubt. It was such a slender straw they were grasping at. If it failed, what would become of them?

  Chapter 14

  Prophesy

  Grey saw that Ivy was pensive, and understood why. Nothing had been decided, and there was no guarantee. Magician Murphy's curses had evidently been extremely potent in the distant past, but this was now, not the past, and the Magician was almost twenty years out of practice. In those intervening years he had been simply Major Murphy, a Mundane office worker who earned just enough Mundane money to avoid poverty. He had been fortunate in finding an employer who was satisfied with a person with a language handicap, and fortunate in the way his efforts turned out; it was as if there were some rebound from his Xanth talent, changing the curse to good luck.

  But this had hardly made up for the almost complete blahness of Mundania. Now Grey understood what he had not grasped before: that the dreadful drabness of his own life was only a reflection of the much greater drabness of his parents' lives. They had known Xanth, so were aware of the magnitude of their loss. They had protected him from that awareness, but now the full significance of it was clear.

  What would he do if he had to leave Xanth—and Ivy?

  From time to time Grey had pondered suicide, not with any great passion, but as a prospect to relieve the inexorable boredom of his so-so existence. He had never actually tried it, not because of any positive inspiration, because he couldn't figure out any easy way to do it without pain. So he had muddled on through, while his grades ground slowly down, feeling guilty for not doing better, but somehow unable to change it. Maybe he had been hoping for some impossible miracle to happen that would rescue him from the mire of his dull life, yet knowing, deep down, that it would never happen.

  Then Ivy had come. His life had changed.

  If he should lose her and return to Mundania alone no, he did not have to ask what would become of him. He knew.

  Anything that could go wrong, would go wrong: that was his father's talent. Could it really act in a positive manner, helping Grey by fouling up the evil machine?

  Grey had all too little confidence in that! But what else was there to try?

  So he smiled and encouraged Ivy, and she smiled and encouraged him, but neither was fooling the other. Their happiness hung on an impossibly slender thread.

  “And so that's the story,” Ivy concluded. “Magician Murphy and Vadne will be here in a few days to ask your pardon for their crimes of the past, and they will support you as King if you let them stay in Xanth, and will try to help Grey get around Com-Pewter's plot. I can't marry Grey until we find that way, and if we can't find it within a month—” She shrugged.

  “So you have decided to leave Xanth rather than serve Pewter?” King Dor asked Grey.

  “Yes. I don't want the evil machine to use me to take over Xanth. If I had no talent of consequence, it would be bad because of my influence with Princess Ivy. As it is, it is worse, because I could do a lot of damage. Xanth doesn't need another Evil Magician!”

  “We always did like you, Grey,” Queen Irene said.

  “As we came to know you, we liked you better, and we like you best now. But what you say is true. We shall of course welcome your parents and allow them to stay in Xanth, but the irony is that you may not be able to remain here with them.”

  “But until that month is done, hope remains,” Dor said.

  “Knowing the devious power of the Magician Murphy, I would say it is a significant hope.”

  Grey smiled and thanked them, but the gloom did not let go of his soul. Com-Pewter seemed to have it locked up tight: what could possibly go wrong with its plot when it was so close to completion? The easiest wrongness was simply Grey's absence from Xanth, and that was the one that he so dreaded.

  “Some how, some way,” Ivy murmured in the hall, and kissed him. But her cheer was cracking at the edges.

  Nothing happened while they waited for the arrival of the other party. Grey and Ivy picked exotic fruits in the orchard, fed tidbits to the moat monsters, made the acquaintance of the guardian zombies, peeked at the baby Bed Monster under Grey's bed (Grey was new to magic, so had a childlike acceptance of some things despite being eighteen), and played innocent games with Dolph and Nada. The castle was excellent for hide and seek, because it had many secret recesses that the ghosts were happy to show off when asked. According to Ivy, the castle was not as well stocked with ghosts as it once had been, because three of them had been reanimated as living folk, but it could still legitimately be called haunted as long as a single ghost remained. In short, it was almost as dull as Mundania.

  Grey disagreed with her. “Xanth could never be dull!” he said. “Why, even if it didn't have magic, there's—well, look at that picture!” For they happened to be standing by a portrait in the hall, one of a number that were elegantly framed.

  Ivy glanced at it. “Oh, yes, that's Mother when she was my age. She was Miss Apull on the pinup calendar. I wish I could look like that, at my age.”

  “You look like you,” he said. “That's more than enough.”

  “It will have to do,” she said. But she was pleased.

  Then the party arrived. Magician Murphy looked improved, and Vadne much improved; both the exercise and the rene
wed experience of Xanth had been good for them.

  Electra was back to her regular form, and skipping like a child again. She hugged everyone, and even stole a naughty kiss from Dolph.

  The formalities were brief: Magician Murphy formally apologized for the mischief he had done in the past, and promised to support King Dor and all his works in the future. Vadne asked to be allowed to visit Millie the Ghost at Castle Zombie so she could apologize to her for the incident of the book. Dor granted them both pardons.

  “Now,” Murphy said, turning to Grey, “I hereby lay my curse on the geis that is on you, my son, and wish it evil. Whatever can go wrong with it will go wrong.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Grey said, trying to project the feeling of confidence. What a dismal hope!

  “You and the Sorceress will be our guests for dinner, Magician,” King Dor said formally. “Zora will show you to your suite now.” Neither of Grey's parents spoke, but Grey knew them: they were overwhelmed by the generosity with which they had been met, and could not speak. Vadne, who he now realized had resented the fact that she had never been known as a Sorceress despite having a formidable talent, would be loyal to King Dor for life because of that one remark. They followed Zora Zombie out.

  Grey lingered, wanting to thank the King and Queen for their kindness to his parents. But Ivy caught his arm.

  “They know. Grey. Mother wasn't a Sorceress either, until the elders reconsidered. The standards have been modified. Xanth needs all the good magic it can get.”

  “Uh, sure,” he agreed, as she hauled him off.

  “You see, we also understand about good and evil magic,” Ivy continued, guiding him upstairs. “Grandpa Trent was an Evil Magician, because he tried to take power before his time, and he was exiled to Mundania. But then he returned when they needed a king, and he became king, and then he wasn't evil any more. It's all in the attitude and in the situation. Now that your folks are supporting mine, they aren't evil either, no matter what happened long ago.”

  “But how would my folks have felt, or yours, if you and I were not engaged?”

  “But you see we are betrothed,” she said blithely. “So there's no reason for trouble between our folks, because if our children have good magic—”

  “But that's presuming we can marry!” he protested. “And we can't marry if I have to serve Com-Pewter.”

  “I don't think you appreciate just how potent your father's magic is. I've been talking to my father, who visited King Roogna's time when he was twelve; and he met your father then, and he said that curse was amazing. The goblins and harpies were fighting, see, and—here, I'll show you on the Tapestry!”

  They had reached her room. She opened the door and hauled him in. And stopped. “This isn't the way I left it!” she exclaimed, glaring at the Tapestry. “Who's been here?”

  The door swung closed behind them. As it did, its hinge made a noise. “Prince Dolph!” it squealed.

  “I thought so! And what is he now?”

  “That fly on the ceiling,” the hinge said.

  Ivy grabbed a fly swatter from a drawer. “Change, Dolph, or I'll bash you into a smithereen!” she cried, stalking the fly.

  The fly became a bat who headed for the window. But Ivy got there first. “Change, before I mash you into guano!”

  The bat became a pale green goat, who ran for the door.

  “Grey, stop that greenback buck!” Ivy called. “Null his magic!”

  Grey put out a hand. The moment it touched the buck's horn, the animal became Prince Dolph.

  “Ah, you'd never have caught me, if that hinge hadn't squealed,” Dolph complained.

  Ivy would not be distracted. “You're not supposed to be in my room when I'm home! What were you doing?”

  “Just watching the Tapestry,” the boy said guiltily.

  “And what were you watching, that made you sneak in here right now?”

  Dolph scuffed his feet together. “Just—things.”

  Ivy's outrage expanded. “You were watching Nada change clothing!”

  “Well, she is my betrothee,” Dolph mumbled.

  “Trying to catch a glimpse of her panties!” Ivy concluded triumphantly. “Do you know what Mother will do to you for that?”

  “Don't tell! Please don't tell!” Dolph begged. “I'll do anything!”

  “I'll think about it,” Ivy said. “Now get out of here, you little sneak, before I Enhance you into a human being.”

  Dolph was only too glad to make his escape.

  “How can you cow him like that, when he can turn into a dragon if he wants to?” Grey asked.

  “It's the natural right of big sisters. Now just let me reset the Tapestry—”

  “Hey, isn't that the Goblinate of the Golden Horde?” Grey asked, seeing the picture that had been frozen on it.

  “I thought Dolph was watching Nada.” He had some sympathy for the boy's interest; Nada was one fine-looking girl, and doubtless her panties were impressive. Grey had never seen them himself; she had lost her clothing during the episode on Parnassus.

  “That's right. Obviously Dolph scrambled the weave so I wouldn't know. It was all he could do in the moment before he changed forms.”

  “Scrambled the weave?”

  “You know—he just made a random reset of the picture, so I couldn't tell where it had been set. If he'd had more time he would have put it back the way I had left it.

  He's pretty cunning about that sort of thing, usually. He just didn't expect me back so quickly. He probably figured I'd take time out to kiss you in the hall for a while.” She glanced at him sidelong. “Correctly. Only then we were discussing your father's curse, and I decided to show you on the Tapestry, so we came on in and caught him unawares. So this setting is pure chance. I'll just—”

  “What's happening? If those are the same goblins who—”

  She looked at the frozen picture more closely. “I'm sure they are. See, there's the mean old chief. But this must be years ago, because he's not quite so ugly as he was when we crossed him.”

  “Ouch! That means there's no chance to help their victims.” For he saw that a partly of three gremlins had been captured. The goblins were just in the process of taking whatever possessions the gremlins had.

  “Little chance,” Ivy agreed. “I wonder how they caught those gremlins. They're usually way too smart for goblins.”

  “They caught us!” he reminded her.

  “Let's play this through,” she said. “Just out of idle curiosity. Then we can go on to Magician Murphy's oldtime curses.”

  The picture moved, the figures zipping backwards rapidly, like video tape being rewound. Then it steadied. The goblins were out of sight, and two gremlins were walking down the path.

  “Oh, I see,” Ivy said grimly. “The third isn't in their party. She's a—a—”

  “A shill? A Judas goat? But why would she lure her own kind into a trap?”

  “To save her life.” They watched as the two approached the third, who was tied to a tree and gesticulating, obviously a maiden in distress.

  The two hurried up to untie her—and the goblins pounced from the bushes nearby. They searched the captives, and just at the point where the Tapestry had been randomly frozen they found a scrap of paper on one. They were evidently quite exited about it and saved it carefully.

  Then they hauled the two off toward the hate spring and the cooking pots. The third they hustled into a cave; she would be saved for future mischief.

  “I hate those goblins!” Grey exclaimed. “Can't anybody stop them?”

  “It's sort of live and let live, in Xanth,” Ivy said. “But I would certainly like to see them get their comeuppance.”

  “I wonder what was written on that paper?”

  Ivy played the Tapestry back, and caused it to expand the paper. But the markings on it were incomprehensible.

  “Maybe Grundy could read it,” she said. “He speaks all languages, so maybe he reads some too.”

  “Of cours
e that paper has probably been burned by now anyway,” Grey said. “I really didn't mean to get off on a sidetrack.”

  “Why not? Little things can be interesting.” Ivy went to the door. “Hey, Dolph!” she called.

  Her little brother appeared immediately. “Anything!” he repeated worriedly.

  “Go find Grundy and bring him back.”

  “That's it?” he asked incredulously.

  “No, that's just incidental. I'm still pondering.”

  “Qh.” Dolph became the bat and flew away.

  “You're going to turn him in?” Grey asked.

  “No. But I'll make him sweat for a while. He's very well behaved when he's sweating.”

  Soon Grundy Golem and Rapunzel were there. Grundy peered at the expanded image of the paper. “I can't quite make out what it says, it seems to be an address of some kind, but—oh, say!”

  “Say what?” Ivy asked.

  “That's Humfrey's writing!”

  “The Good Magician's?”

  “Who else? I'd know his scrawl anywhere! But of course I can't read it; he enchants messages so that only those whose business it is can read them.”

  “Then that's why the goblins couldn't read it!” Ivy said.

  “They knew what it was, but it was no good to them. But you said it's an address?”

  “Probably telling where to find him if they need him,” the golem said. “Those gremlins must have done him some service, so they had an Answer on tap. Too bad they never got to use it.”

  Ivy's eyes lighted. “An Answer!” she exclaimed.

  “Don't get excited, Princess. You don't have an Answer coming to you, and if you did, Humfrey's gone, so you couldn't get it anyway.”

  “But the address!” she persisted. “The magic address! That would change when he moved and always be current!”

  “Of course it would,” the golem agreed. “But the folk he gave it to are gone, and nobody else can read it, so what's the point?”

  “I could read it!” Ivy said. “If I had the original paper. “I could enhance its legibility and orientation, and find out where the Good Magician is now!”