Man From Mundania (13 page)

to enter the picture."

"Enter the—?" But he remembered that there had been

just such a scene in one of the books, so naturally she

believed it. "Okay, you make the scene, and I'll follow."

"Yes." She stepped forward and through the barrier.

Grey gaped. She was standing on the painted path that

led down into the painted valley that contained the painted

mountain. She was inside the picture!

Then he realized that it was an optical illusion. There

was an entry there, or something. He moved over to where

she had stood, then forward, cautiously. He put out a hand.

He touched the surface of the picture. He passed his

fingers along it. The thing was definitely a painting, done

in slight relief; he could feel the edge of the terraces and

of each of the steps on the stone stairways circling the

mountain. No way to walk into that scene!

Yet there was Ivy, part of the picture. She had walked

down the path a way, perhaps assuming that he was right

behind her, and perspective made her look smaller. Was

it really her? He stroked her backside with a finger—and

she jumped.

While Grey stared, the pictured Ivy whirled around, a

mixed expression on her little face. She was alive—yet

painted! He had felt the material of her skirt, the firmness

of her tiny bottom, yet also the flatness of the painting.

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Ivy was saying something, but he could not hear her,

of course. How could a figure in a painting speak?

Then she started making signs. Grey, she signed, using

the signs for white and black, which they had agreed would

be his name: mix white with black and you got gray.

Her name was Green Plant. He made that sign, an-

swering her. Suddenly they had a new use for the language

of the deaf.

Come here she signed.

/ can not he signed back, hardly believing this. How

could she be part of a picture, yet still alive and moving?

She walked back toward him, growing rapidly larger as

the perspective changed. Finally she was his own size,

standing in the foreground of the picture. Take my hand.

Grey put forth his hand. He set it against the painting,

beside her, having learned caution about touching her im-

age directly. She put her hand up to match his.

The texture of the painting changed under his fingers.

It became warm and yielding, like flesh. Then his hand

clasped hers, their fingers interweaving.

She tugged, and he fell forward. He had the impression

of stepping into water, the surface tension crossing his

body. He blinked, and tried to recover his balance.

Then Ivy was holding him, steadying him. "Don't

worry. Grey, you're in," she said.

It was always nice being close to her, but he was too

distracted to enjoy it properly. He disengaged and looked

back. There was the cave: a picture mounted in a huge

frame.

He looked forward. There was the mountain—larger and

sharper than before. The air was cooler here, and smelled

slightly of ocean; a sea breeze ruffed his hair and Ivy's

tresses, making the green flicker.

Green?

He snapped back to look closely at her. Her hair had a

definite green tint! He took a hank between his fingers,

inspecting it. Blond and green.

"My mother's hair is much darker green," Ivy said,

understanding. "Because of her green thumb, you know.

She has green hair and green panties, and she turns other

Man from Mundania
         
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women green with envy. But I'm only a shadow of her, so

I'm less green."

"Green panties?" Grey echoed.

Ivy's hand went to her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't have

told! No man outside the family is supposed to know the

color of her panties! Promise you won't tell!"

"I, uh, won't tell," Grey agreed numbly. He had better

concerns than anyone's panties, at the moment! How could

he be within the picture, and the place he had come from

converted to a picture?

He put out a hand to touch the painting behind. He felt

the rough texture of the painted stone of the cave wall.

"I guess you believe in magic, now," Ivy said, a trifle

smugly.

Grey snapped out of it. "Magic? Of course not!" Ob-

viously this was a sophisticated illusion, with some sort

of curtain or force-screen that gave the impression of paint,

whichever side of it was touched. His mind interpreted

that texture as whatever he saw beyond it. The only mys-

tery was how Ivy had gotten through that screen and how

she had brought him through. Her hair color would be a

function of special lighting. He had seen more dramatic

effects in magic shows.

"Oh. Well, let's get on with the challenge."

"Challenge?"

"You know, the Night Stallion has challenges set along

all the routes in the gourd to keep strangers out. I had to

swim through a lake of castor oil once to get through.

Ugh!"

"Ugh!" he agreed, and she flashed him a sweet smile.

That made it all worthwhile.

They walked on down the path toward the mountain.

The mist thinned as they approached, and he saw that the

mountain rose abruptly out of a plain so flat as to resemble

the surface of a table. It was fashioned of gray stone and

was bare: no trees or grass at all. It loomed increasingly

impressively, being much larger than he had judged from

the cave.

"Uh, we have to climb this?" he asked.

"Of course. That's the nature of the challenge, I'm sure:

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Man from Mundania

to reach the castle at the top. It looks just like Castle

Roogna, but of course it isn't because Castle Roogna's in

the jungle, not atop a bare mountain, and anyway, this is

the gourd. Probably there's a window from the castle to

Xanth proper. But it won't be easy reaching the castle."

Grey looked at the sheer din's of stone, and tilted his

head back to see the tiny castle far above. He swallowed.

He wasn't acrophobic, but unprotected heights made him

nervous. There were no guardrails on those narrow ledges!

"Uh, what's the name of this, uh, challenge? Mount

Xanth?"

But Ivy was walking boldly onward. He had to follow

or let her risk it alone. The name of the mountain hardly

mattered; they just had to climb it. He hurried to catch

up. Maybe the climb would not be as bad as it looked!

They came to the base. It rose steeply from the ground

with no apology, the stone too sheer to scale without spe-

cial equipment. The lowest ledge was out of reach.

"Yes, it's a challenge, all right," Ivy said. "But maybe

a passive one."

"Passive?" Grey asked, feeling stupid again.

"Rather than an active one."

"What's the difference?"

"With a passive challenge," she explained patiently,

"you don't get chased by monsters."

Oh. "Let's keep it passive," he agreed.

They walked around the base. The circumference of the

mountain did not seem great; in fact, far smaller than it

should be to accommodate such a large castle at the di-

minishing top. Unless the castle was as small as perspec-

tive made it seem. It would be a real irony if they got to

the top and discovered a dollhouse castle there!

They came to a small bush growing right against the

base. "Maybe that plant conceals an entry," Grey said.

Indeed, the rock seemed less solid behind it. "Smells like

some kind of mint."

"Be careful," Ivy said. "It might be a—"

A sharp stick poked out from the plant as Grey leaned

over it. He jumped back just in time to avoid getting

stabbed.

Man from Mundania
        
61

"Spearmint," Ivy finished.

Grey glanced at her, but she seemed serious. He picked

up a pebble and flipped it at the plant. Another spear

popped up and stabbed at the pebble with dismaying ac-

curacy. "Spearmint," he agreed.

"They are dangerous to approach," Ivy explained un-

necessarily. "They attract birds and things with their

smell, and then they—"

"I get the picture." Spring-loaded spears nestled in an

ordinary plant: a trap fit for a jungle fighter. And a pun

fit for a crazy story writer. He would have laughed, had

he found it funny.

They continued on around the mountain. Soon there

was another plant, and this one definitely masked a flight

of steps that led to the first ledge. The mint smell was

strong again.

Grey made a cautious approach and inspected the plant.

He saw no spears. Still, he did not trust it. He found

another pebble and flipped it into the bush.

There was an explosion of dust. It surrounded him in a

cloud. Grey inhaled—and started sneezing.

He scrambled back and away, sneezing violently.

'' Tha—ah—that 's— ah— pep—chew!'' he
 
exclaimed

through his sneezing.

"A peppermint," Ivy agreed. "I should have known."

Grey sneezed himself out and found himself sitting on

the ground, panting, his eyes watering, his nose itching to

trigger more of the same. "Pep-peppermint," he wheezed

in deep disgust. A mint that peppered the intruder with