Man From Mundania

by Piers Anthony

  “You're playing their game,” Ivy said quickly. “They told you this was a hate spring. So you agree, but tell them your magic counters it. You're a liar only if they are.”

  He wasn't quite sure of that logic. Still, this whole realm was a setting, a phenomenal setting, and it was easiest to go along with its rules. That's why he referred to goblins instead of dwarves or simulacra, and to the centaur instead of trying to figure out how the thing was animated. “Okay, for now, until I reason it out better. Take my hand; my supposed magic must seem to extend to you while you are in contact with me, so you can brave the bad water.”

  She took his hand. Hand in hand they waded into the water. “See, goblins!” he cried. “My magic counters your hate water! I can wade in it without hating anyone—even you!”

  The goblins watched, dismayed. They looked to their chief, but Grey preempted Grotesk's response. “You know that's true, don't you, chief!” he cried, playing up to the lie. “You know that if this water touches others, they will be affected by it.” He extended his free hand and made as if to scoop some water. “If I splash them—”

  “Don't do that!” the goblin chief exclaimed with evident alarm.

  Grey put on his crudest smile, hoping it worked. He had guessed right: Grotesk had to support him in this ruse!

  “Yes, you know what will happen! So don't tempt me, sour-snoot!”

  The chief didn't tempt him. The goblin had to maintain the illusion of the water's power. “You said you were Mundane!”

  “Well, maybe I exaggerated,” Grey said. Mundanes, of course, were not supposed to have magic. But Grotesk could not point that out, without giving away his own secret.

  They waded up to the edge, but did not step out of the water. “Now before we go, I want you to return the lady's property,” Grey said. “Bring her mirror.”

  “Har, har, har!” a goblin in the rear laughed. “Fat chance!”

  Grey leaned down so that his hand was within reach of the water. “If the goblin who spoke cares to step forward, I have something for him,” he said evenly. The truth was he was quite nervous; how far could he push this bluff before the goblins called it?

  There was a silence. Grey looked around as if perplexed. “What, is no one in the Golden Horde thirsty?” he inquired. “Well, perhaps if I proffer a free sample—”

  He swished his hand through the water.

  “Bring the mirror!” Grotesk shouted.

  There was a stir, and soon a goblin brought the mirror.

  “Don't splash!” he pleaded.

  “I won't splash if I get what I want,” Grey said. “Ivy, take the mirror, but don't let go of my hand. I can't protect you if you aren't in contact.”

  “Yes,” Ivy said, doing a marvelous job of looking very nervous about the water; she clung tightly to his hand. She reached forward; the goblin stood at the bank and extended the mirror, and she took it while the chief glowered.

  “Now we shall need transportation away from here,”

  Grey said. “Bring the centaur.”

  But Grotesk had just figured out a cunning counterploy.

  “Back away from the water!” he cried. “Get out of splashing range!”

  Uh-oh. That would allow the chief to keep his secret, and grab them when they left the pool. “Ivy, do you have a cup?”

  Ivy reached over her shoulder, set the mirror in her backpack, and pulled out a cup.

  “Dip it full, and throw water at anyone who looks troublesome,” Grey said.

  She dipped it. Then they stepped out of the water, still holding hands. The goblins retreated. Grey saw that a number of them held stones or clubs, but no one acted because the chief hadn't told them to. Grotesk couldn't afford to act until that cup of water was gone—and he couldn't afford to have them throw it on any goblins and demonstrate its worthlessness.

  They walked across to the centaur. “Can you carry both of us, if we free you?” Grey inquired.

  “I think so,” the creature replied. “I've been a beast of burden for these monsters; I'm miserable but strong. But this is a magic halter; only the chief can untie it.”

  “The chief, eh?” Grey glanced across at Grotesk and realized that this was another bluff. “Well, I have a special talent with knots, too, so—”

  “No, Grey,” Ivy murmured. “No one in Xanth has two magic talents.”

  Grey was sure the halter wasn't magic; it was just so constructed that the centaur's own hands could not reach the key clasps to undo it. But he had to play by the rules. “Well, maybe my magic knife will cut it,” he said loudly.

  He brought out his knife and sliced at the tough material of the halter. Fortunately, he kept his knife sharp; the strands parted. Some fevered sawing severed the section under the centaur's arm. “Now it is broken; you can lift it free,” he said.

  The centaur did just that. In a moment the halter was off. “That's some knife!” he exclaimed. “I got a sharpedged stone once and managed to saw at it without being observed, but the magic was too strong, and I got nowhere.”

  “Now we shall ride you out of here,” Grey said. “The water will not affect you as long as you are in contact with me, so don't be concerned if it splashes out of the cup.”

  That was literally true: the water would not affect the centaur while in contact—or at any other time. “She will fling it at any goblin who comes too close. Are you ready?”

  The centaur glanced nervously at the cup. “Yes,” he said uncertainly.

  It was tricky mounting without letting go of Ivy's hand, and for the sake of appearances he had to keep holding it.

  But the centaur reached back and helped her up, and then Grey got up behind her.

  “Start walking,” Grey said. “Slowly, so as not to make them do anything foolish, until we get away from this camp.”

  “Gotcha,” the centaur said. He stepped carefully forward.

  “I'm sure you can run very fast when you need to,” Ivy remarked.

  But goblins closed in across the path, lead by a subchief. “I think it's a fake!” the subchief cried. “That water's lost its hate!”

  Ivy flung the water at the subchief. The goblin tried to leap back, but the water caught him and also splashed across several others near him.

  The first thing the wetted goblins saw was the ugly faces of their companions. For an instant they stared. Then they exploded into violence. The subchief swung his club at the one he faced, and two others fell to pummeling each other.

  “Let's get out of here!” Grey said.

  “You can do it!” Ivy cried to the centaur. “You're superstrong and fast!”

  The centaur needed no urging. He leaped over the nearest goblins and shot off down the path. The goblin fight was spreading, and none of the nearest ones were chasing the centaur. But the more distant ones raised a cry of alarm. “Get them! They're escaping!”

  But it was too late. Even doubly loaded, the centaur could run faster than the stubby-legged goblins, especially on the well-beaten path. A few stones flew, but missed. They had made it to freedom.

  Well away from the goblin camp, they left the path.

  “We had better find a river and wash off the hate water on your legs,” the centaur said. “Otherwise it will affect the two of us the moment you stop touching us.”

  “Not to worry,” Grey said. “It's not magic water; that was Grotesk's bluff.”

  “But it is, “the centaur insisted. “It made those goblins fight the moment it touched them!”

  “That was psychological. They believed it would affect them that way, so it did.”

  “Well, I believe in it!” the centaur said. “I saw it work more than once, when the chief wanted to discipline someone. I want it all off me before you get off me.”

  Grey shrugged. It made sense for a magical creature to believe in magic. “Do you know where a suitable river is?”

  “Yes, there's a stream not far from here. It flows into the Gap.”

  “The Gap!” Ivy exclaimed.
“We're going there!”

  “But it's dangerous!” the centaur protested. “The Gap Dragon runs there!”

  “We'd better introduce ourselves,” Ivy said. “I'm Princess Ivy of Castle Roogna.”

  “Really?” the centaur asked, amazed. “I have heard of you. You enhance folk.”

  “Yes. I helped you run faster and stronger.”

  “You did indeed! I have never done so well before, even without a double load. I thought I was just scared! I am called Donkey.”

  “What?” Grey asked.

  “Because I'm small and gray, and have big ears,” he explained. “The others always teased me, so I preferred to go out on my own. But then the goblins caught me, and I had no friends to realize I was missing. Thank you so much for rescuing me!”

  “I'm Grey,” Grey said. “Not the color, just the name. I'm from Mundania.”

  “But then how can you do magic?”

  “I can't. It was all a bluff. That's why I knew the water wouldn't hurt you.”

  Donkey considered. “All the same, I'd prefer to wash it all off. Just to be quite sure. Centaurs don't like to take avoidable chances.”

  So they went to the stream. Donkey walked carefully to the center, then slowly settled down. “Wash it all off before we separate,” the centaur said. “We wouldn't want to hate each other.”

  Ivy giggled. “I never took a bath with my clothes on before!”

  “Me neither,” Grey agreed.

  They splashed water on themselves, remaining in contact with Donkey, letting the current carry away the bad medicine.

  There was a stir in the water downstream. “See, the fish are fighting,” Donkey said. “It's still potent!”

  “Coincidence,” Grey said. But he wondered. There had been a number of funny events recently, and not all were easy to accept.

  For one thing, the way those goblins had fought—when the subchief had expressed his disbelief in the power of the water. Why, then, had it affected him? Had his disbelief been a bluff? Or had he decided to support the supposed power of the water, the way Grotesk did? Or had he wanted the captives to escape? None of that seemed to make much sense.

  And the centaur: now that they were relaxing. Grey was studying the creature. He found no artificial connection between the man and horse aspects. Donkey seemed to be exactly what he claimed to be: a living centaur. The river was not shorting out his circuits. His body was warm. Part of him was definitely human and part definitely animal.

  How could this be, without magic?

  “We'd better get undressed so we can rinse out our clothing thoroughly, then hang it up to dry,” Ivy said. “It is overdue for a washing anyway.”

  “But—” Grey protested.

  “It's all right,” she said. “We're betrothed.”

  “But—”

  “And centaurs never wear any clothing anyway,” she continued. “They don't have any concerns about people.”

  She unbuttoned her blouse and drew it off.

  Grey didn't argue further. She was right: they did have to get washed and hang up their clothing to dry. They were engaged to be married. It had happened so suddenly that he still could hardly believe it, but he was not going to deny it! He didn't care what kind of setting this was or whether magic was real, it was wonderful being with her.

  Soon they were bathing separately. Ivy and Donkey at last satisfied that the hate water had been washed clear by the pure stream water. The day was late, now, but they hung up their clothing to catch the declining rays of sunshine. Then he and Ivy sat on a clean patch of grass and let the sun dry them, too. Donkey didn't need to sit; he stood in a separate sunbeam, after shaking his body violently.

  Grey tried not to look at Ivy's bare body, but didn't want to be too obvious about not looking, lest she think she was ugly. She wasn't; in fact she was his very model of a teenaged girl.

  “Are you sorry?” she inquired.

  “Huh?”

  “About being betrothed to me?”

  “Oh no!” he exclaimed. “I—it's more than I ever hoped for! I—when you—when I woke before you under the tangle tree and saw you sleeping, I just had to keep looking at you, because as wonderful as all this crazy land may be, you are the craziest and most wonderful thing that ever happened to me, and I wish it would never end. I mean—I don't know what I mean, but—”

  “You know there is trouble ahead,” she reminded him.

  “I was resolved to let you go, no matter how much I liked you, because I knew we couldn't marry. But when you came for me through that water and didn't hate me, suddenly I didn't care anymore what my folks think. My little brother's got two betrotheds; I'm entitled to one, I think. But you have to be willing.”

  “I'm willing! I just never thought that you'd—I mean that you were serious—I mean—”

  “You don't know what you mean,” she repeated for him. “Are you beginning to believe in magic, a little?”

  He looked at the centaur, and still could not explain him away. “If loving you is believing in magic, then I believe,” he said.

  She smiled. “I think I have never had a better compliment!”

  “I am amazed that you profess to disbelieve in magic,” Donkey said. “We centaurs try to maintain a certain diffidence about it, but there is absolutely no doubt of its validity. Haven't you felt Ivy's Enhancement yourself?”

  Grey considered. “I suppose I have, but—”

  “You are too full of buts,” Ivy said. “Shut up, or I'll kiss you.”

  “But—”

  She leaned over and kissed him.

  Grey shut up.

  In the morning they discussed the matter, and decided to travel together down the river to the Gap Chasm. Donkey knew the way, and the location of the best trees along it, while Ivy knew the Gap Dragon, so that they could enter the chasm safely. None of them cared to remain in the vicinity of the Goblinate of the Golden Horde, for the goblins were surely out looking for them and would not treat them kindly. They agreed that it was best to get on the other side of the Gap with reasonable dispatch.

  Grey had read of the Gap and the Gap Dragon, but reserved his belief in such things until he actually saw them. A trench across the state of Florida a mile or so deep? As he understood it, there wasn't any part of that state anywhere near that elevation above sea level, so such a chasm would be impossible even if it were possible!

  With a great whomping, steaming, ferocious dragon running along the bottom? More likely it was a railroad cut with an old-fashioned steam engine chugging along on its track.

  Some chocolate milkweed pods grew along the river, and some mushrooms, which turned out to be little rooms full of mush. Some were cornmeal mush, and some were oat mush or wheat mush. They didn't taste like much, but the chocolate milk provided a bit of flavor. At least they were filling.

  “How do you like it?” Ivy asked.

  He could tell by the sparkle in her eyes that she was up to some mischief, so he answered cautiously. “Mushy stuff was never my favorite.”

  “That's what my little brother always said—until he met Nada.”

  “Nada?”

  “Nada Naga, his betrothed—I told you. But she cured him in a hurry, and now he loves mush.”

  “I could use that cure myself,” he muttered, still not seeing her point. “How did she—?”

  “I thought you'd never ask!” She stepped to him, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him so emphatically that his head seemed to float.

  “But—” he said when she gave him a chance to breathe.

  “Mushy stuff,” she explained.

  Oh. Grey felt completely stupid; he had walked right into that one! Yet somehow he wasn't bothered; it was about as nice an experience as he could imagine.

  “Did I embarrass you?” she asked.

  “Uh, no, of course not!” he protested immediately.

  She glanced at Donkey. “I'm not sure. What do you think?”

  “He's flushing and perhaps stammeri
ng,” the centaur said. “I believe it is likely that you did embarrass him, though he is attempting to deny it.”

  “That's what I thought.” Ivy faced Grey again. “The brassies know how to handle that.”

  “The brassies?” Grey tried to remember what the brass folk had done in the books he had read.

  “They apologize,” she said. “Do you know how they apologize?”

  “Uh, no, I—”

  She hauled him in again and kissed him with even more authority than before. This time his head seemed not only to rise, but also to swell to the size of a helium weather balloon and float across the landscape, buffeted by stray playful breezes.

  From somewhere far away her voice came: “Do you accept my apology?”

  He tried to get back to earth. “Uh—”

  Then Donkey's voice: “Evidently the apology was not sufficient. He seems frozen in place.”

  Ivy's voice, again: “True. I will simply have to make a better apology.”

  Then she kissed him a third time. His head heated and expanded so rapidly it exploded, and bright fragments of the balloon fluttered down into the forest below to decorate the trees with seeming flowers. Bees buzzed up to attend to those flowers, and came away with buckets of nectar. Oh, the sweetness of that kiss!

  “Do you accept my apology?” Ivy asked again.

  Grey strove valiantly to get his head back together. “Uh, yes, sure!” he gasped, finally catching on. He wasn't sure he could survive the next kiss!

  “Alert!” Donkey said. “I hear goblins!”

  Suddenly Grey was back in focus. “Let's get out of here!”

  “We'd better do it as we did before,” Ivy said briskly.

  “I'll enhance you, Donkey, and we'll ride you. That way we'll leave them behind again.”

  “Certainly,” the centaur agreed.

  Ivy scrambled into her pack, and they both scrambled onto the centaur's back, and the centaur took off with a terrific leap just as a goblin burst into view.

  “Tallyho!” the goblin cried, and blew on a horn he carried, alerting the others. The sound was amazingly loud and vulgar.

  “I hate those stink horns,” Ivy said as they raced through the light foliage beside the stream.