Man From Mundania

  “Oh, I dunno,” Dolph said. “She sounded sorta nice. I could have ridden on her back and used her long hair for reins, or maybe just reached around her torso to hang on while she galloped.”

  “Shut up.” Ivy knew he was teasing her. She refocused on Sylvia. “So we bear no grudge against you. We saw how sorry you were to do it. Now you are free to go; you are captive no more.”

  The sylph just stood there. “But what I did—I must be punished.”

  Grey interposed. “Do you have anywhere to go, now that your man is dead?”

  The sylph shook her head sadly no.

  Ivy melted, as he had known she would. “Then you and Sylvanie will come with us to Castle Roogna.”

  “But my child is innocent! I beg of you—”

  “To decide your punishment,” Grey said. “Your daughter must be with you, but she will not be punished.”

  “Maybe you could give her your bed,” Grey suggested.

  Ivy turned to him. “My bed?”

  “Sylvanie is a child. She needs a young Bed Monster.

  I thought maybe Grabby—”

  “Who otherwise doesn't have long to live!” Ivy agreed. “Yes, of course—Sylvanie gets my bed!”

  The child's eyes went huge. “My very own Bed Monster?” she piped.

  The sylph almost dissolved. “Oh, thank you, thank you!”

  Ivy looked over the wreckage that was the Goblinate of the Golden Horde. “I think it will be some time before this outfit causes much more trouble,” she said with satisfaction.

  Then Dolph became a roc. They climbed on his gigantic feet, clinging to the talons: Grey and Ivy on one foot, Sylvia and Sylvanie on the other. The wings spread, and snapped, and they lurched into the air.

  In a moment they were over the Gap Chasm. Dolph waggled his wings in a salute to the real Gap Dragon and flew on. Very shortly they were gliding down to Castle Roogna.

  Grey and Ivy talked privately to King Dor, and he agreed that he would punish Sylvia Sylph by requiring her to do service at Castle Roogna as a maid for an indefinite period, during which time her child would be tutored by a centaur. The two would share a room at the castle, and the child would get Ivy's old bed. Zora Zombie would instruct the sylph in her duties.

  “Such as waxing the floor!” Ivy said, laughing. “That will be terrible punishment!”

  Grey smiled. Evidently the girls did not like the smell of the wax, though it reminded him of home. Maybe it was its Mundanish quality that bothered them.

  Then they pondered their approach to Good Magician Humfrey. He was in the gourd; that explained why nobody had been able to find him, because the tapestry could not track him there, and the magic mirror was limited. They were not able to understand the exact address, for the regions of the gourd had little relevance to those of waking life. The full inscription went like this:

  DAMESCROFT SILLY GOOSE LANE LITTLE HALINGBERRY BISHOP'S STORKFORD HURTS ANGLE-LAND Grey shook his head. “I'm not sure I'll ever understand these Xanth addresses!”

  “This isn't a Xanth address,” Ivy corrected him. “It's a gourd address. It makes no sense to me either.”

  “I can find it! I can find it!” Dolph said eagerly. “The Night Stallion gave me a free pass to the gourd, remember; any of its creatures will help me if I ask, and none will hurt me or anyone I speak for.”

  “You just want to get out of being grounded!” Ivy accused him.

  “Uh-huh! But you need me! You need me in the gourd!”

  Ivy grimaced. It was true: Dolph had a special advantage in the gourd. If they wanted to locate the Good Magician at all, let alone within Grey's time limit for settlement with Com-Pewter, they had to use Ivy's little brother.

  So it was decided: Grey and Ivy and Dolph would make one more excursion together, this time into the devious realm of dreams. Rather than risk it physically, they would enter the normal way: by looking into gourds growing right here at Castle Roogna. That way friendly folk could keep an eye on them and bring them back if there seemed to be a need.

  Grey felt more positive than he had in a long time. His father's curse was working; already it had led to the chance discovery of the address paper, and their acquisition of it; anything that could go wrong with Com-Pewter's plot was now going wrong. If that curse held, they would find the Good Magician and get their Answer, and that could complete the disruption of the plot.

  But much Xanth magic did not operate the same in the dream realm. Could Murphy's curse extend there'? If not their mission could after all prove in vain.

  Chapter 15

  Gourd

  They set up piles of pillows in the garden, each before a gourd on a vine. Dolph lay down on the center setting, with Ivy to his left and Grey to his right. They linked hands.

  Nada turned Dolph's gourd so that the peephole came to face him. He had to go first to set the scene; it was individual to each person and remained at the point that person had last been, until he returned and changed it.

  Dolph had a standard setting that he had encountered at the time he rescued Electra. They would join him there, if they were in physical contact with him as they entered.

  Dolph's eye met the peephole. He froze in place, intent on what he saw there. He would not move until some outsider broke the contact by moving the gourd or putting a hand between the peephole and his eye.

  Grey went next. Ivy knew he could null the magic of the gourd if he chose, and probably he could void it at any time while he was inside the dream realm. Indeed, he could have done so during their prior adventure, had they but known it. Maybe the Night Stallion had guessed at something of the kind, because he had sheered away from a confrontation with Grey. Ivy had wondered about that at the time, but had forgotten the matter in the press of subsequent events; now it made more sense to her. But Grey was not using his talent now; he wanted to find the Good Magician as much as she did. He froze in place.

  Ivy went last. Her mother turned the gourd for her, and she too froze as her eye locked on the peephole. But she did not see this; her awareness was now within the realm of the gourd.

  It was a huge building: a palace or castle, with tiled walls and thick supporting columns. Strange folk hurried in every direction, each one intent on his or her own business, glancing neither to left or right, pausing for nothing.

  She was holding her brother's hand, as she had been before entering the gourd. She let go; once the scene had been set, they were all right. Grey was standing on the other side.

  “What is this amazing place?” she inquired.

  “An airport,” Grey said.

  “A Mundane bad dream,” Dolph said.

  Grey smiled. “Much the same thing! Airports are always rushed, and the planes are always late even though they're listed as being on time, and the baggage is a giant lottery system. So many travelers were beating the odds and keeping their bags by carrying them onto the planes that the government had to change the law, making them check their bags, and now the losses are back up to par or even beyond it. It's a bad dream, all right!”

  “This can't be where the Good Magician is living!” Ivy said.

  “I'll ask someone,” Dolph said confidently. He stepped boldly forward. “Hey, you!” he called at a passing man.

  The man eyed him with mild annoyance and rushed on.

  “I thought you were supposed to be able to get help, here in the gourd,” Ivy said.

  “I am. But I haven't been here in a long time; maybe they don't recognize me.” He tried again, this time hailing a woman. “Hey, miss!”

  “Don't you touch me, you sexist!” she snapped, jerking away.

  “I'm not a sexist!” he protested. “I don't even know what it is!”

  “Then you're a juvenile delinquent,” she said over her shoulder as she zoomed away.

  “Got you dead to rights,” Ivy murmured.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” Grey said. “Mundanes never help strangers; you have to get someone in authority. I think I see a policem
an now. I'll ask him.”

  Dolph looked, and quailed. “That's the dread demon in blue! He chased us all over the place!”

  But Grey was already stepping out to intercept the man.

  “Officer—may we get some help?”

  The demon bore down on them. Not only was he garbed in blue, he was big and fat and looked ferocious. “Ya disturbina peace?” he demanded. “Complaints aboutya! Gonna runyain!”

  “We are looking for an address, officer,” Grey said. “If you could-”

  But the man's beady eye had fixed on Dolph. “Hey, Iknowya! You'n that barebroad—”

  “He is Prince Dolph,” Ivy said indignantly. “You're supposed to help him!'‘ “Prince Dolph!” the man exclaimed. “Whyn'tya sayso! Whatcha need?”

  “You mean you're not going to chase us?” Dolph asked, gaining courage.

  “Stallion sez giveya anythingya want. Whatchawant?”

  “We need to find an address,” Ivy said. “Damescroft—”

  “Dames? What kinda placeya think thisis?” the blue man demanded indignantly. “None a that streetstuffhere!”

  “Damescroft,” Ivy repeated carefully. “It must be a place. The next part is Silly Goose Lane.”

  “Never hearda it,” the man said with certainty. “No gooses here! I'll runin anyone tries it!”

  “Little Halingberry?” Ivy asked, reading the next line.

  “Lemme seethat!” the policeman said. He took the paper. “Well nowonder! Yareadingit backwards! Yawant Angle-Land!”

  “But I read it in the order it's listed,” Ivy protested.

  “Listenup, sugarplum, this's Mundania, erproximation thereof! Readfrom bottomup!” Ivy glanced disbelievingly at Grey, but he agreed with the policeman. “That's the way Mundane addresses are read,” he said. “I assumed that it was different in Xanth or I would have said something.”

  “This isn’t exactly Xanth,” she reminded him. “It's a bad dream.”

  He smiled. “And a bad dream in Xanth is of Mundania! It certainly makes sense!” Then he turned to the policeman. “If you will just tell us where Angle-Land is, officer, we shall be happy to go there and get off your beat.”

  “Well, itsa longway, butfer PrinceDolph wegotta shortcut. Taketha doorthere.” He pointed with a fat finger.

  “Thank you, officer,” Grey said. “You have been most helpful.”

  They walked toward the indicated door. “He's almost decent,” Dolph said, amazed. “Before, he chased us all through this place, because of Grace’l. Said she was indecent.”

  “But I thought Grace’l is a walking skeleton!” Grey said. “Her bare bones may be frightening, but hardly indecent!”

  “Oh, when she was clothed with illusion!” Ivy exclaimed. “So she looked like a bare nymph!”

  “Mundanes think bare nymphs are indecent,” Grey agreed. “At least, when they go out in public.”

  “It certainly is a strange place,” Ivy agreed.

  They reached the door. Ivy put her hand on the knob and turned it. The door swung open.

  The scene beyond surprised them all. It consisted of angles of every description. Some looked like thin pie slices, while others were as square as the corners of castles, and yet others were broad and dull.

  “I don't see why the Good Magician would want to live here,” Dolph remarked.

  “Maybe it improves further in,” Grey said. “This reminds me too much of geometry.”

  “Who?” Ivy asked.

  “It's a branch of mathematics,” he explained. “One of those tortures, like Freshman English, I hope never to face again.”

  “I can see why,” Ivy said. Indeed, this looked like an awful place to live!

  They stepped into Angle-Land. Some of the angles were stationary, while some moved around. Ivy almost collided with a very pretty little one. “Ooops, pardon me!” the angle begged. “Normally I see very well, for I am acute, but I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going,”

  “You certainly are cute,” Ivy agreed. “Can you show us the way to Hurts?”

  “You say my sharp point hurts you? Oh, I'm so sorry!”

  “No, no!” Ivy said, smiling. “I said that you look very nice. You're the cutest angle I've seen here.”

  The angle blushed, pleased. “Well, I am supposed to be, you know. But I wouldn't want to hurt anyone.”

  Ivy realized that this angle's horizons were limited.

  “Thank you. We shall keep looking.”

  They went on. The next angle they encountered was relatively dull; its point would not cut anything.

  “Hello,” Ivy said. “Can you tell us where Hurts is?”

  “Duh,” the angle said.

  Dolph nudged her from one side, and Grey from the other. “It's stupid,” the one said.

  “It's an obtuse angle,” the other said.

  The angle heard then. “Duh, sure, I'm obtuse! I'm supposed to be. See, my point is much wider than that acute gal you were just talking to.” He said this with evident pride.

  “Yes, I can see that,” Ivy said, and the dull angle smiled with satisfaction.

  They went on. The next angle was perfectly square.

  “Do you know where Hurts is?” Ivy asked.

  “I wouldn't think of admitting to anything like that!” it replied. “I am after all a right angle.”

  “But all we want are directions!” Ivy said.

  “I am sure I am quite correct in declining to comment on that sort of thing.”

  Ivy saw that this angle was hopelessly self-righteous.

  They went on.

  They came to a wall. “Have we run out of angles?” Grey asked, looking about.

  “What do you think I am—a curve?” the wall inquired.

  “Certainly not an angle,” Ivy said. “You look absolutely straight to me.”

  “Precisely: I am a straight angle. A hundred and eighty degrees. Not a degree more, not a degree less.”

  “He's right,” Grey murmured.

  “Not at all, lout!” the angle retorted. “The last one you talked to was a right angle; I am a straight angle, as I just informed you. I deviate not an iota from my course.”

  “Do you know where Hurts is?”

  “Do you suppose I am the straight man for your crude humor? It will never work; I shall not deviate!”

  “He's too straight,” Grey muttered.

  “It is impossible to be too straight or too narrow!” the angle proclaimed.

  They moved on. They came to a bend so wide it was bent backwards. “What's your angle?” Ivy inquired.

  “Now that is a subject for suitable cogitation,” it replied. “Whether it is nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous questions, or—”

  “All we want,” Ivy said firmly, “is to find the way to Hurts. Do you know it?”

  “As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, that is a matter for reflexion, and I am of course the one to do it, being a reflex angle. So let us consider: what is to be gained or lost by your proceeding to such a painful locale? On the one hand—”

  “I'm hurting right now,” Dolph said. “These angles think they're real sharp, but to me they're pretty dull.”

  “Philistine!” the angle shot back.

  “You know,” Grey said, “if puns are the way of it here, maybe we should go for the big one: Hurts must be where the most cutting angles are.”

  “The ones that can hurt you worst,” Dolph agreed.

  They headed back toward the acute angles. “Now don't be thoughtless about this!” the reflex angle called. “There remain points to consider most carefully!”

  There, in the sharpest heart of the most acute angles, was a narrow blood-stained gate. It had broken glass with sharply acute angles along its bars, and needlelike spikes along the top. They had found the entrance to Hurts!

  Ivy eyed the spikes. She hardly relished squeezing through that! “You know. Grey, everything here is magic, because it's the dream realm, so you should be able to
null it. But if you do—”

  “Will it null the dream itself?” Grey finished. “Well, does the exercise of other magic talents interfere with it?”

  Dolph became a goblin. “Not that I know of, pot-bait!” he said, true to the character he portrayed.

  Ivy touched the nearest cute angle, and Enhanced her so that she shone. “It doesn't seem to,” she agreed.

  “Then I should be able to exercise my talent here without wreaking havoc,” Grey concluded. “Provided I keep it moderate.” He reached out to touch the gate, carefully.

  “Why, this isn't glass at all!” he exclaimed. “It's illusion!”

  “It's illusion now,” Dolph said. “You bet it wasn't a moment ago.”

  “It's a matter of interpretation,” Ivy pointed out.

  “Since the entire dream world is crafted of illusion, illusions are real here. Grey just nulled out some of the glass illusion's reality.”

  “I'm glad,” Dolph said. “When you get cut here, you do bleed. Maybe not in your real body back in Xanth, but it hurts the same.”

  Ivy remembered Girard Giant and his river of blood.

  She knew it was true.

  They squeezed through the nulled gate. The shards of glass bent like leaves, harmlessly.

  They were in a horrible region. This was evidently the setting for the bad dreams of those who feared pain. All around there were suffering people. Some had loathsome diseases, some had awful injuries, and some seemed to be enduring unendurable emotional turmoil. It was certain that all were hurting.

  A mean-looking man wearing a black mask walked up.

  He carried a whip. “I don't remember ordering three more actors,” he said gruffly. “Are you sure you came to the right place?”

  “We're just passing through,” Ivy said quickly.

  “Well, there's a really bad dream coming up, with a large cast,” the dungeon master said. “Maybe we'd better use you anyway. Can you scream well?”