Man From Mundania

by Piers Anthony

  YES.

  “And you know where I'm from.”

  YES.

  “Will you tell Grey where I'm from?”

  YES.

  “Uh, you have to tell it,” Grey said. “It takes things literally.”

  “Tell him,” she said.

  PRINCESS IVY IS FROM XANTH.

  Grey stared. “You say that? But how can a machine believe in fantasy?”

  WHEN IT IS TRUE.

  “You see, we could have asked him all along,” Ivy said. “Pewter, why am I here?”

  GREY NEEDS YOU MOST.

  “But what about Good Magician Humfrey?”

  I KNOW NOTHING OF HIM.

  So it was the curse! She hadn't been sent to Humfrey, but to the Mundane most in need of her company. Yet a mystery remained. “Pewter, why are you here?” she asked.

  TO FACILITATE YOUR ENCOUNTER.

  “But you don't care anything about me!” she protested.

  IRRELEVANT STATEMENT.

  So Pewter wasn't telling. She wasn't surprised. She considered herself lucky that he had cooperated to this extent.

  She turned again to Grey. “If you will help me, I will show you Xanth,” she said.

  Grey evidently remained bemused by Pewter's endorsement of her origin. He might not believe, yet, but at least he was having more trouble disbelieving. That was progress of a sort. “I'll, uh, help you if I can.”

  “You will have to guide me to No Name Key.”

  “To what?”

  A KEY SOUTH OF FLORIDA, the screen said helpfully.

  “But that's far away from here! How—”

  HITCHHIKE.

  “But my classes! I can't skip—”

  CHOOSE: IVY OR FRESHMAN ENGLISH.

  Grey was taken aback. “Well, if you put it that way—”

  YOU HAVE VIRTUALLY NO APTITUDE FOR SCHOLARSHIP.

  Grey became suspicious. “You act as if you want me to go!”

  YES. THEN MY ASSIGNMENT WILL BE COMPLETED.

  Ivy, too, was suspicious. “What is your assignment?”

  TO GET GREY MURPHY INTO XANTH.

  Grey shook his head. “I don't believe this!”

  YOUR BELIEF IS IRRELEVANT. TURN ME OFF WHEN YOU DEPART.

  “This is absolutely crazy!” Grey exclaimed. “My computer wants me to go into a delusion!”

  “You understand,” Ivy reminded him, “we won't be able to talk intelligibly to each other until we get to Xanth. I will have to keep my mouth shut in Mundania.”

  “But we can't go, just like that! My father—”

  “Look at it this way,” Ivy said. “If we don't find Xanth, you can come back here in a few days, and Pewter will have to help you pass all your classes, so your father doesn't find out and turn him off forever. But if we do find Xanth—”

  Grey got his wits about him. “Let's say, for the sake of nonsensical argument, that we find it and you go there, where does that leave me? Alone again, and far from home, and in trouble when I get home!”

  “You're welcome to come into Xanth with me,” Ivy said. “I thought that was understood. But I assumed you wouldn't want to.”

  “I, uh, if you go there, I want to go there too. Even if it is crazy.”

  Ivy smiled. “You might like it—even if it is crazy.”

  Grey shrugged, defeated. “When do we start?”

  “Now,” Ivy said, delighted.

  “Now? But—”

  NOW, the screen said.

  Grey tried to marshal another protest, but Ivy smiled at him, and he melted. She had seen Nada stifle Dolph similarly; it was nice to know that such magic worked, even in Mundania.

  “Now,” Grey agreed weakly.

  They delayed only long enough to pack some clothes and food, because neither grew on trees in drear Mundania. Then they set off.

  Hitchhiking turned out to be a special kind of magic: a person put out one thumb, and it caused the moving objects called cars to stop. Some of them, anyway. Cars turned out to be hollow inside, with comfortable seats and belts to hold the people down in case they bounced out.

  Each one had at least one person riding in it, and seemed to go more or less where that person wanted. But there were obstacles: glowing lights hung above the car path and flashed bright red the moment any car approached. Then the driver muttered something under his breath that sounded villainous even in gibberish and fumed for half a minute before the light changed its mind and flashed green.

  The driver would start up, his car's round feet squealing, only to be similarly caught by the next flashing red light.

  Ivy wished she could understand the purpose of this magic, but suspected it would not make much sense even if she had been able to comprehend the dialect.

  Several car rides later, night was falling, as it did in Mundania much the way it did in Xanth. Apparently the sun feared darkness just as much here, for it was nowhere to be seen as the night closed. They stopped hitchhiking and ate some beans from Grey's can, then looked for a place to spend the night.

  Grey was somewhat confused about this, so Ivy took over. They were at the edge of a big village—called a town, as she remembered—and sure enough, there was a barn. “Cvu xf dbo'u kvtu—” Grey protested, hanging back. So she kissed him again and led him by the hand around to the back, where she found a door. Inside was a loft filled with hay, just as she had expected.

  But instead of leaving the hay all nice and fluffy and loose, the idiotic Mundanes had somehow compacted it into cubes! So it was all hard and bumpy. But they were able to scrape together wisps and make a serviceable bed.

  She made him lie down, then she lay down beside him and spread their jackets over them as blankets, as well as more hay. It was comfortable enough.

  Once Grey realized what she was about, he cooperated readily enough. Side by side, they fell asleep.

  Next day they got up, dusted off the hay, and sneaked out of the barn unobserved. Ivy was hungry, and knew Grey was too, but realized that it was better to get moving early than to pause for more beans. What a relief it would be to get back to Xanth where there was good food for the taking!

  The cars zoomed by without stopping, despite the magic of the thumb. Obviously even this limited spell was not reliable, in Mundania. Grey muttered something unintelligible, but she understood the gist: the people in the magic vehicles were all in such a hurry that none could pause to do a favor for anyone else. That seemed to be typical of this dull land.

  Then a pretty blue car slowed. “Ppqt!” Grey said, seeming chagrined rather than pleased. He tried to back away from the road, but the blue car pulled to the side to intercept him.

  There were two people inside, dressed in blue, with squashed flat caps and shiny copper buttons. Ivy recognized the type: demons! She had seen them on the Tapestry. These were of the variety known as Flatfeet, who were devoted to interfering with travelers. No wonder Grey was alarmed.

  But it was too late. The Flatfoot on the right gestured to them. Ivy knew better than to try to run; demons could always catch normal folk, unless there was strong countering magic. However, she also knew that the hassling was usually harmless; the demons liked to make people assume odd positions, and to pat them all along their bodies, and ask embarrassing questions, but after they had had their fun they generally moved on to other things.

  “Xifsf zpv Ijet hpjoh? Epo'u zopx ju't jmmfhbm up ijudiijif? Mfu't tff vpvs JE,” the Flatfoot said gruffly.

  Grey tried to explain, in similar gibberish, but of course the demons didn't listen; they never did. They made him take out his wallet, which was a little flat folder containing various cards and the odd mundane “money” of which Grey had very little. They perused his cards, and the nearer Flatfoot frowned in his best demonic fashion. Apparently Grey had passed inspection.

  “Cvu uif hjsm—tif mppit voefsbhf. Jbwf up difdl ifs upp.”

  The Flatfoot turned to Ivy and held out his fat hand, palm up. Oh, no—was he going to go into the patting routine? She really w
ouldn't care for that.

  Grey turned to her, holding up his wallet, which the Flatfoot had returned. Suddenly she realized that the demon wanted to look at her wallet—and of course she didn't have one. She had observed that the wallets of most Mundane women were much larger than those of the men, and contained everything except kitchen sinks, but she didn't have one of those either. “I don't have any,” she explained.

  The demon's eyes widened, and Ivy realized her mistake. She had agreed with Grey to keep silent, to let him do the talking, because what she said sounded almost humorously garbled to Mundanes. They had compared notes, after the first siege of garbling, and laughed. When she told him “You're talking gibberish” he had heard “Europe talcum giddiness,” and when she asked “You can't understand me either?” it had come out “Yukon tundra stammer eater?” But the worst had been when she asked “But why could I understand you before, then?” and he had heard something like “Buttery cookie unstable yodel fourteen?” Discussing that, she had raided his meager refrigerator—a box that was magically cold inside—and found cookies and butter. Sure enough, there had been five of them, which crumbled when she tried to spread the hard butter on them (unstable) and become fourteen fragments. They had laughed and laughed. And there was the key to their relationship: they got along well together, laughing at the same things. She had never had that experience with a man before, only with Nada and Electra.

  But now the demon was gazing at her in annoyed wonder—demons were good at such expressions—and she knew she was in trouble. How could she explain that she was from Xanth, when the Flatfeet would not believe in Xanth? But, as Grey had warned her, if any Mundanes thought she really believed in Xanth, they would assume she was crazy, and that would be worse mischief. So even if she could talk their language, it wouldn't do much good.

  What could she do? She shut her mouth and spread her hands. She had nothing to show them.

  “Uibu epftju: tif't b svobxbz!” the Flatfoot said. His door swung open and he heaved his ponderous bulk out.

  “Dpnfpo—xfsfubljoh zpvjo!” he snapped, grabbing Ivy by the arm.

  She looked at Grey for guidance, but he just looked back helplessly. She understood the problem: it was impossible to escape from demons, so it was necessary to go along with them. Maybe it would be all right.

  The two of them were put in the back of the Flatfoot's car, which then caromed away down the road. Grey held her hand, trying to provide comfort, though it was evident that he had little control of the situation. Soon they arrived at the demon's residence, where male and female Flatfoots abounded, and there were many of the fierce blue cars with flashing lights on top. What a fearsome place!

  There was more talking, then a matron demoness took Ivy by the arm. Ivy hung back, not wanting to be separated from Grey, but he made a gesture that this was all right.

  The matron took her to a small chamber where there were chairs and a table. Then she spoke gibberish in a questioning tone. Ivy merely spread her hands, knowing better than to speak again.

  Then the matron brought out pictures: men, women, children, table, chair, car—everything was in this collection, it seemed. She pointed to a picture of a man, then brought her hand up to her forehead, almost touching the hairline. Then she flattened her hand and brought it away from her head, palm down. “Nbo,” she said firmly.

  What was she up to? Ivy kept her mouth shut.

  The matron pointed to a picture of a woman. She made a fist with her thumb up, then flattened her hand as she had before, and moved it out at the level of her cheek.

  “Xpnbo.”

  Ivy watched, saying nothing.

  The woman pointed to herself, and made the second gesture again. Then she pointed to Ivy, and made it once more.

  Suddenly Ivy caught on. This gesture indicated a woman! She lifted her own hand, thumb up, then flattened it, imitating the gesture.

  The matron smiled. She pointed to the picture of the man.

  Ivy promptly made the higher gesture.

  “Wfsz hppe!” the matron exclaimed, pleased.

  The significance of this was not lost on Ivy. This was a way to communicate that bypassed the spoken language!

  With this she could talk to the Mundanes! Though she hoped not to be in Mundania much longer, she realized that her inability to speak their peculiar language could prevent her from escaping it, because the Mundanes would think she was unable to speak or was crazy. She needed to satisfy them that she was a normal person so that they would leave her alone—and here was the way to do it.

  She dived into the sign-language lesson with a vengeance. She told herself that she was very smart at this kind of thing, and therefore she was, because though magic might not work very well here, her power of enhancement still worked on herself. She quickly mastered the signs for “man,” “woman,” “girl” (merely a smaller “woman”) and got into more general terms, such as the one for going somewhere: the two index fingers rotating around each other in the manner of a wheel rolling forward. The matron was amazed and pleased; it seemed she had never before had so apt a student.

  There was a knock at the door panel, and a Flatfoot appeared. The matron, startled, glanced at her wrist, where a funny bracelet was. The ornament had a round flat surface like that of a sundial, and two little lines whose position changed magically, because they never changed while Ivy was looking but were always different when she looked away and then back at it. Then the matron spoke rapidly to the Flatfoot, who departed.

  The matron faced Ivy and made a gesture toward her mouth several times, as if pushing something into it. Ivy was perplexed; what did this mean? Too much talk? Rather than struggle with that. Ivy inquired about the bracelet.

  The matron tapped the back of her wrist with a finger several times, then made a funny fist and circled it across her other flat palm. Ivy shook her head; she couldn't make sense of this. The matron opened her picture book and pointed to a similar bracelet there, with the word “xbudi” beneath it. Apparently it was just a special kind of decoration.

  Then the Flatfoot reappeared with a package. The matron took it and opened it. Inside were several sandwiches and two of the funny Mundane paper boxes of milk.

  Ivy made a lightning connection. This was food! The matron didn't need to make the hand-to-mouth sign again; it was obvious that it meant “eat.” Ivy was famished.

  More time had passed than she had realized, and she hadn't had breakfast anyway. It was now around midday.

  The matron gave Ivy two sandwiches and one box of milk, and took the others herself. Ivy quickly picked up the terms for “egg salad sandwich” and “milk”—the latter was most peculiar, involving the squeezing of the two hands separately as if hauling on short ropes, instead of the obvious plucking of a milkweed pod—and ate eagerly as the lesson continued.

  Now it was business: the matron was questioning her, using the signs they had established. Where is Ivy going?

  Oops! Ivy understood the question well enough, but how could she answer? If she said “Xanth,” she would be deemed crazy. But then she saw the way through:

  Ivy is going home. The sign for “home” was like the one for “eat” and “sleep,” because home was where a person usually ate and slept. Xanth was indeed home for Ivy!

  The matron nodded. Who is man?

  She meant Grey. That was easy. Friend. The sign consisted of hooking her right index finger over her left index finger, then the left over the right, making a double linkage.

  The rest was relatively easy. It seemed that not only were the Flatfoots worried that Ivy was crazy, they thought that Grey might be mistreating her or that both of them were running away from their homes. Ivy had already reassured the matron that there was nothing wrong with her mind, only her language, and now reassured her that Grey was helping her return home, not run from it. She also realized that they would have questioned Grey similarly, not having to use the hand signs, and that he would have been smart enough to avoid any detail on Xanth.
The demons were only trying to help, in their fashion.

  Satisfied, the matron brought Ivy back to the main chamber, and spoke a torrent of gibberish to the demon in charge. The demon made an “I surrender” gesture and waved to the back of the room.

  Grey appeared. Ivy ran to him and flung herself into his arms and hugged him closely. What a relief to be with him again after being captive by the demons!

  The demons allowed them to go. In fact, they even arranged for Ivy and Grey to get a ride in a big car, one that held about fifty people in twin rows of chairs. But Ivy, catching on to a good thing, turned back to the matron and made signs to ask for the picture book of signs. This was a way she could talk to Grey in Mundania, too! The matron, who was remarkably nice for a demoness, gave her the book and a smile.

  The big car came and they climbed in and found two seats together near the rear. Then Ivy opened the picture book and started teaching Grey the signs.

  The “bus,” as it turned out to be called, did not go directly to No Name Key; in the confused Mundane manner it went instead to a huge village, where they had to get off and go find another bus. But the other bus wasn't there yet, so they had to wait in the big, crowded building for several hours. That was really no problem; there were toilet facilities of the Mundane kind—separate ones for males and females—and places where Grey could buy them more sandwiches. They used the extra time practicing signs. Grey was almost as quick as she had been to realize their usefulness; if they learned all of these signs, they would not need Com-Pewter to make the Mundane gibberish intelligible.

  A Mundane man saw them practicing, and approached.

  Embarrassed, Grey desisted, but the man surprised them by using the signs himself. You deaf? he inquired, touching his ear and then his mouth.

  No Ivy signed. Then she did a double take. This man knew sign language!

  It turned out that the man was deaf and had long experience in using the signs and in something termed “lip reading” that enabled him to understand the words spoken by others. He was waiting for the same bus they were, and had thought they were deaf like him. His name was Henry.

  He was glad to give them practice in the signs, for he could make them with marvelous finesse, so rapidly that it was impossible for them to follow. But with practice, he assured them, they too would be able to communicate like this, so that it was almost as good as regular speech.