“Then it’s settled!” Glinda said happily. “You can prepare to leave in the morning. I’m sure you’ll have to make arrangements for the kingdom while you’re away. I can’t imagine your mission will take too long, but you never know.”
The Lion nodded, looking up at Glinda in adoration. “My mission,” he agreed, and then he frowned slightly. “What is my mission, exactly?”
Glinda giggled. “Oh, right! It’s very simple, really. I want you to protect Ozma. As you know, her army is gone. . . .”
The Royal Army had been a single man. And Jinjur had taken him out in a heartbeat right in front of him and Scare.
“But she has you,” the Lion said, puzzled. Glinda was powerful. And she had an army of her own.
Glinda frowned the tiniest of frowns before her forehead smoothed out again and she beamed at the Lion. “I’m—well, I have things to do elsewhere,” she said vaguely. “Very important things. And Ozma can be a little difficult. I think it’s best we spend some time apart. And to be honest, there is another reason. Ozma is so bored in the palace—as bored as you are! I thought you might do us all a favor and keep her company for a while. She’s in desperate need of cheering up. I know she’d love to see you, and you’ll make her a perfect companion!”
The Lion felt his heart lift, perhaps this was what he and his courage were looking for. A mission. A purpose. Perhaps a fight didn’t mean anything unless it had one.
“I will bring the beasts. I will train them up into a proper army,” he announced.
Glinda’s perfect eyebrows raised and she shook her head.
“Perhaps, in time. But you need to have Ozma get used to you. Trust you before bring in an army.”
“But how can I keep her safe? You saw how the last Royal Army of One ended up.”
“I will know if there is trouble, don’t you fret, Lion.”
The Lion nodded, swallowing her logic. But it left an aftertaste. Something not quite right. He suddenly remembered the other part of what Glinda was asking.
“Which part am I supposed to keep secret?” the Lion asked, his confusion growing.
“Oh, that! I’m planning a most wonderful gift for Ozma, and I thought you could do me a tiny favor while you’re staying in the palace. She can’t know, or it would spoil the surprise. The Wizard left a ruby necklace behind when he departed Oz, and I need it to finish Ozma’s gift.”
The Lion was getting more confused with every word out of Glinda’s mouth. Maybe he should have asked for brains instead of courage, too. Why couldn’t Glinda look for the Wizard’s necklace herself? Why was she leaving Ozma alone in the palace, if Ozma was bored and lonely? But it didn’t really matter in the end. Glinda knew what she was doing, and she’d chosen him to help her. He wasn’t stupid, but intrigue and palace politics weren’t his style. He was happy to assist the kind, beautiful witch with whatever she wanted, even if her request didn’t totally make sense.
“But how will you get the necklace?” he asked.
Glinda stared at him, her smile faltering. “I’m asking you to get it, Lion,” she said, her voice strained.
“Me?” he asked, astonished. “But I don’t know where it is!”
“No one knows where it is,” Glinda snapped, and this time her exasperation was clear. “That’s why I’m asking you to find it.”
The Lion nodded eagerly, anxious to please her. “Of course! Find ruby necklace,” he repeated obediently. “Keep Ozma company. That’s all you need from me?”
Glinda’s irritation vanished and she clapped in delight. “You’re just as clever as dear Scare, no matter what people say!” she said merrily.
“What people say?” the Lion asked, but Glinda didn’t seem to hear.
“But just to be absolutely sure you know what I’m asking of you, I’ll show you the necklace. And perhaps I’ll do a little spell, just to make sure you don’t have any problems keeping your promise.”
“Of course I won’t have a problem,” the Lion replied, slightly offended. But Glinda ignored him, closing her eyes and drawing a circular shape in the air with one finger. As she sketched, a translucent image of an elaborate ruby necklace materialized in the air. It was so elaborate that it was really more of a breastplate. A heavily worked gold setting housed dozens of rubies, ranging from the size of the Lion’s claw to the size of his entire paw. The dazzling red stones pulsed with a hypnotic red light of their own. The Lion leaned forward. He could almost see an image reflected in each of the glowing red stones. Whirling clouds forming a dense gray funnel over a broad, empty prairie with a single clapboard farmhouse sitting all by itself in the middle of nowhere. A girl was standing in the doorway; she was too tiny for the Lion to make out her features, but something about her was incredibly familiar . . .
“Where is that? Is that . . .” the Lion asked. Glinda clapped her hands and the image of the necklace vanished with a pop.
“Never you mind about that,” she singsonged. “What matters is that you recognize the necklace if you see it again. Will you?”
“Of course,” the Lion said, irritated. He realized suddenly that maybe Glinda wanted him to see it. Glinda wanted him to know that Dorothy was the gift she was planning for Ozma. And Lion would do just about anything to bring Dorothy back to Oz.
“I’m sorry, dear Lion,” she said. “I don’t mean to imply you’re not perfectly capable of the task. It’s just so important to me to make Ozma happy that I get stressed about the details.”
Something in her voice didn’t entirely ring true, but the Lion let it go. Before he knew it, both of Glinda’s hands were resting on his head, bathing him in a throbbing pink light. “And now I bind you to your promise,” the witch murmured. “Nexus necto offendix leo.” The Lion felt a creeping sensation, as if hundreds of tiny fleas were crawling through his fur. He tried to twist his head to nip at them, but he was frozen in place by Glinda’s spell. The bugs were burrowing under his skin. He could feel them like tiny sparks burning through his coat. He roared in pain and surprise but no sound came out of his open mouth.
“All done!” Glinda exclaimed, passing one hand over his head. He blinked. He was sitting on top of his platform in the Forest of the Beasts, a familiar woman standing in front of him with a blinding smile affixed to her face. He knew her. He was supposed to be doing something. His skin burned briefly, and it all became clear. A vision of a ruby necklace hung glittering in the air before him, its powerful pull on him drawing him closer and closer. But as he reached out a paw to touch it, the image burst in a shower of red sparks. He had to find the necklace. He simply had to. It was a compulsion.
Glinda, watching him, smiled and nodded. “Very good. Don’t forget your quest.” And then it all came flooding back. He was going to the Emerald City on an important errand for Glinda the Good Witch. He’d help her find a magical necklace so that she could present it to Ozma, the Queen of Oz. He’d been specially chosen for the critical task. His chest puffed outward with pride. It wasn’t just anyone who Glinda handpicked for her special missions.
At that very moment, Cornelius returned to the clearing, bearing a tray piled high with fruit. The tray looked as though it had been hastily woven together from leaves and branches—which it had, since the Lion’s subjects had very little use for dishes. Glinda delicately selected a few fresh dazzleberries, which exploded into bursts of tiny edible jewels in her hand. The Lion, still full from his tournament, waved the tray away.
“I’m going to leave the forest for a few—for a while, Cornelius,” he said importantly. “I trust you will be able to look over things while I’m gone?”
The rabbit’s ears twitched in surprise, but he only said, “Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Then it’s settled.” The Lion turned to Glinda. “How will I contact you when I’ve found the—” Glinda shot a warning look at Cornelius. “Cornelius is my most trusted adviser,” the Lion said.
“If anyone knows, it’s not a secret,” Glinda said, and there was no mistaking
the coldness in her voice this time. “Don’t worry, Lion. I’ll know when you find it. And I’ll know if you tell anyone other than me.” Cornelius busied himself cleaning his whiskers, pretending not to listen.
“Yes, Glinda,” the Lion said, trying not to show that she had rattled him. But surely keeping the bored young queen company and finding a necklace couldn’t be anything too dangerous. Glinda would never do anything that wasn’t in the best interests of Oz, or of Ozma herself. After all, Glinda was the one who had made Ozma the new queen. And more than that—more than everything—Glinda might be bringing his friend home. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, and his thinking, wishful or otherwise, had never been as smart as the Scarecrow’s. But how much better Oz would be with Dorothy in it again.
Glinda smiled, and just like that she was a sweet, innocent witch again. Had the momentary flash of cruelty been his imagination after all? Already the air around her was sparkling, and her outlines shimmered and began to fade. In moments he could see through her, as if she were a ghost. “Don’t fail me, Lion,” she called as she vanished.
“Was that encouragement, sir, or a threat?” Cornelius asked quietly. The Lion didn’t bother to answer. What had he just gotten himself into?
FOUR
It was good to be traveling again. He’d made this journey before, and not all that long ago—though that time he’d been leaving the Emerald City, not heading toward it, and he and the Scarecrow had been fleeing Jinjur’s soldiers, afraid for their own lives. When he’d traveled with Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, they’d had such an eventful and occasionally dangerous journey that he’d never had time to pay attention to the landscape. But Oz was safe and stable now. The Wicked witches had been killed or exiled, and no possible threat faced him on the road. Despite Glinda’s ominous farewell words, he dawdled as much as he dared along the way to the Emerald City, stopping often to nap in a sunny patch of starflowers or drink lavender-scented water from one of the many brooks he passed. It didn’t take long for his paws to find the Road of Yellow Brick, and once he did he quickened his pace. Soon enough, the city was a dazzling green smear on the horizon that solidified into towers, turrets, and thatch-roof houses as he drew closer to the gates.
Unlike the Wizard, Ozma left the gates of the Emerald City unguarded, as clear a sign as any that Oz had returned to a state of peace and harmony. The Lion slipped past the heavy wooden doors and found himself on the main road to the palace.
The Emerald City was designed like a wheel, with the Emerald Palace at its heart and straight, even roads radiating outward like spokes until they met the city walls. The main roads were paved with a sparkling crust of green gemstones that were eerily smooth under the Lion’s paws. Near the city walls, the buildings were mostly neat green houses. Munchkins cheerfully pulled weeds and watered flowers in well-tended gardens, waving at the Lion as he walked by. The closer he got to the palace, the buildings grew larger and more elaborate. Vendors selling green scarves, green songbirds, green pastries, and green suits and dresses hawked their wares to passersby. Here, the streets were crowded with people. Munchkins ran back and forth, on their way to some urgent task or another. An emerald-studded trolley ran past on a shining green track, so full of people that Munchkins hung out its windows and clung to the outside of the car. The Lion licked his lips, realizing how hungry he was from his journey. There were so many Munchkins in the Emerald City—surely no one would miss just one? But he wanted to make a good impression on Ozma, and eating one of her subjects was probably considered poor form.
The Lion made his way slowly through the teeming streets, until at last he reached the gardens outside the Emerald Palace. The exterior of the palace was dramatically different from the last time the Lion had seen it. The Scarecrow had kept things simple and functional. But now, under Ozma’s rule, it was clear that appearance was more important. The gardens were even more elaborately planted. Tiny jewel-colored hummingbirds flitted between enormous green blossoms, and golden butterflies the size of the Lion’s head drifted idly from flower to flower. An army of Munchkin gardeners toiled busily: raking the immaculate green gravel paths, planting seedlings in the tidy beds, and trimming the already flawless lawns. Huge green banners emblazoned with the golden crown of Oz fluttered from tall green poles. Courtiers strolled in the gardens, dressed in elaborate, tiered court gowns and well-cut suits of green velvet. Ozma had clearly been busy since the Scarecrow had left the Emerald City. The Lion wondered what his old friend had thought of her changes. But Ozma was the rightful ruler of Oz, after all. It made sense that she would want her palace to be as beautiful as possible.
“Your Highness!” one of the gardeners exclaimed, catching sight of the Lion. He rushed forward, bowing as he ran. “We were not expecting a royal visit! Does Her Majesty know you’re here?”
The Lion was pleased to be recognized, but realized quickly he should have sent word to Ozma that he was coming to the city. “Er, I thought I would surprise her,” he said. The gardener looked startled, but recovered quickly.
“How wonderful, sir. I’m afraid we are not prepared to receive you properly, but allow me to escort you to the palace.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” the Lion said. “I don’t need anything fancy.” He followed the gardener through the huge main gates of the palace, and his stomach rumbled. It definitely wouldn’t do to eat one of Ozma’s staff, but he was terribly hungry, and the Munchkin was so tempting.
Inside, the palace was even grander than the outside. Ozma’s touch was everywhere, in the giant tapestries that covered the walls and the soft, thick carpets scattered across the stone floor. More servants bustled back and forth on various errands, carrying trays laden with delicacies, cleaning supplies, or stacks of books and papers. It was almost hard to believe that this was the same palace where he’d once lounged with the Scarecrow, and where they’d fought a bloody battle against General Jinjur. The palace even felt different. He could almost smell the magic humming in the air—Ozma’s magic, he realized. It buzzed faintly in his ears like a distant beehive. The Emerald Palace had never felt like this before. For the first time, it had a true ruler.
“If you’ll just wait here for a moment, Your Majesty,” the gardener said. Before the Lion could reply, he was running off down a hallway. Moments later, another servant appeared. This Munchkin was clearly someone important in the palace: his uniform was a beautifully tailored suit, and he wore an emerald pin on his lapel.
“We are honored to have such an illustrious guest. I am Reedus Appleall, at your service,” he said, bowing. “The queen is just finishing some business, but will be ready to receive you soon, Your Highness.” He looked at the Lion’s dirty, matted fur with the faintest expression of disapproval. “Perhaps His Majesty would like to refresh himself before seeing the queen?”
“I would love some refreshments,” the Lion said happily.
“Very well, sir. This way, please.”
The Lion followed Reedus down the familiar corridors of the palace. Ozma’s touches were everywhere: every alcove was filled with fresh flowers, the floors were spotless and polished, the walls hung with beautiful Ozian landscapes. He recognized the lush field of poppies where he had once fallen into a most perilous sleep. Rainbow Falls was depicted in all its dazzling, multicolored splendor; real mist drifted from the painting and left a faint, sparkling rainbow dust on his fur. Leaning in to examine an image of distant mountains, he could feel a cool breeze drifting from the tall, snowy peaks. The servants all wore matching uniforms and identical expressions of contentment. “The place looks nice,” the Lion remarked.
“Ozma is a wonderful queen,” his guide agreed earnestly. He ushered the Lion into a large chamber. Huge picture windows looked out over the palace gardens, and an elaborately carved four-poster bed nearly the size of the Lion’s entire platform in the forest dominated the far end of the room. The Lion flopped down on the bed with a sigh of satisfaction, ignoring the expression of horror that flashe
d across the Munchkin’s face at the sight of his muddy paws dirtying the lace bedspread.
“About those refreshments,” the Lion growled. Bowing and nodding, the little servant backed into the hallway and disappeared.
Moments later, the room was full of activity. A team of a dozen Pixies flew in, steering a huge tub of steaming water that rolled along atop an invisible bubble of magic and a pile of towels. A Munchkin brought a platter of roasted meat, and another hurried toward the Lion with a brush and comb. The Lion was far more interested in a meal than in hygiene, but he allowed himself to be hustled into the bathtub. He munched happily as the Pixies shampooed his fur and combed the tangles out of his mane and tail. When he was thoroughly clean, more Pixies took away the bathwater while a Munchkin toweled him dry and brushed his fur until it shone. Finally, another Munchkin brought him a mirror. The Lion admired himself for a moment. “I look so respectable no one will recognize me!” he exclaimed.
Reedus reappeared. “Ozma is ready to receive you, Your Highness,” he said. The Lion followed him down another series of hallways to the Emerald Palace’s throne room. As with everywhere else in the palace, Ozma had redecorated the throne room to within an inch of its life. Elaborate murals depicted the history of Oz, and stained-glass windows refracted the sunlight into hundreds of patches of emerald green. Ozma sat regally in her throne, her golden crown sparkling in the sunlight and her rich green robes spilling to the floor around her. But other than a few servants, the throne room was nearly empty, and she looked tiny and lost all alone in the vast space.
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