L. Frank Baum - Oz 40

by Merry Go Round In Oz

  However, the smoky words answered only, “In The Middle Of The Link.”

  “And where is the Link?” cried the Prince. “Indeed, ‘what

  is it?”

  But by now Bill had become so bored that he was almost asleep. He waved irritably toward a path leading out of the clearing, then turned his back and sat with his knees stolidly crossed, puffing on his pipe. Not another word could they get from him; the skywriting resolved itself into mere lazy puffs and squiggles. “Oh, who needs him?” Fred said in disgust. “Come on, we’ll find this Link ourselves, whatever it is! We’ll probably know it when we see it.

  He set out at a spirited trot along the path Bill Bored had indicated; the others followed willingly. However, they were soon forced to slow down. Almost as soon as they were out of the clearing the path began to climb, the air to grow chilly, and the landscape to change. Within a few moments the neat plots of sign-trees had merged into untended groves and thickets, while the white stones of the dotted line gave way to jumbled rocks. Fred and the Unicorn slid and stumbled on the steep, uneven footing, while their riders, hunched against the cold wind, peered anxiously this way and that through the forest-though neither of them, Fess reflected, had the slightest notion what a Link might look like. Now, when signs might have helped, there were none visible except occasional weedy-looking ones that read “Road Closed” or “No Mountain-Climbing Allowed.”

  “Then what are we supposed to do, fly?” Fred panted, glaring at this last one. “If that isn’t just like this country!”

  At the same moment, the Unicorn remarked, “It’s snowing.”

  “And I’m getting awfully hungry,” squeaked the Flittermouse mournfully. “Can’t we go somewhere else now, Fess dear? I don’t like this place at all, and my nose is cold, and-”

  Suddenly the Prince broke in. “What is that ahead? Oh, merely a lake. But what a queer one! By my halbred, it’s almost

  black.”

  It certainly was a queer one, they saw when they emerged at last from the trees and stood looking at it through the falling snowflakes. It lay in a forest-ringed hollow which was apparently the very top of the mountain, and it was perfectly circular, with water of so dark a blue that it had actually stained the white sand around the edge.

  “Looks more like ink than water, Prince Gules remarked as he and Fess dismounted to examine it.

  The Unicorn, who had stretched her white nose down to sniff, drew back hastily, announcing, “I believe it is ink.”

  “A lake of ink?” Fess began incredulously, then exclaimed, “Why, of course-a link. We’ve found the Link, Your Highness!”

  “And there’s the Coracle!” cried the Flittermouse, bouncing

  up and down.

  Sure enough, in the exact middle of the Link a small, circular boat floated peacefully. It appeared quite empty, except for a load of snowflakes slowly gathering around its rim.

  “If that’s the Coracle, where’s the Oracle?” Fred demanded.

  “There’s something,” said the Unicorn, pointing her horn at an object standing on the sands a little distance away. As they approached they saw it was a table, on which was chained a large open register-book. Beside the book stood a pen in a silver stand, and-inevitably-a little sign.

  “Sign Here For Oracle,” it directed.

  Without hesitation, Prince Gules seized the pen, dipped it in the Link, and boldly scrawled “Gules, Prince of Halidom” across the open page of the register.

  No sooner had he dotted the last “i” than a bell chimed somewhere, and out in the middle of the Link the Coracle gave a little lurch and started toward them of its own accord. Fred shied, and Flitter scurried back inside Fess’s collar. where he whispered shakily, “Fess dear, what kind of person is an Oracle?” The others merely watched in astonishment, stamping their cold feet and blowing on their hands, as the Coracle crossed the Link and halted, bobbing gently, in the shallow ink near the shore. They could see now that there was a velvet cushion in the boat’s rounded bottom; on the cushion was a shimmering, transparent sphere mounted in a silver base.

  “A crystal ball! So that’s the Oracle!” Fess exclaimed. “I wonder how we work it?”

  The Oracle itself answered this question; as the travelers clustered around it, a tiny sign popped up from a slot in its base.

  “Deposit Three Gold Pieces,” Prince Gules read aloud. He turned and held out a casual hand to Fess. “Do you have three gold pieces, please?”

  “I don’t think so,” Fess said nervously, beginning to search his pockets.

  “You forgot to bring gold pieces for our journey?” the Prince exclaimed in shocked and disapproving tones.

  Reminding himself that the Prince couldn’t help being a bit stupid at times, Fess patiently explained that all he had brought was a lunch basket, that a page seldom, if ever, even saw any gold pieces, and that in any case Halidom’s treasury was usually empty.

  “True,” Gules admitted. “Well, perhaps I have some. I think I did have, about a month ago.”

  He, too, began going through his pockets, and after much searching produced two small and rather battered coins. After a few more anxious moments, while Fred stamped and complained that he was freezing, Fess located a third-an old one from Troth-which had slipped through a hole into the lining of his cloak. Much relieved, he handed it to the Prince, who dropped all three gold pieces into the slot.

  Immediately another sign popped up. “Ask Three Questions. Shake Well After Each,” it instructed.

  “Where is the Golden Circlet?” Gules asked it promptly.

  Fess, wishing the Prince would be less impulsive, hurriedly added, “The one stolen night before last from Halidom.”

  They all crowded forward, expecting another sign, but instead they heard the mysterious little bell chime again. Nothing else happened.

  “You forgot to shake it,” Fred mumbled.

  The Prince reached into the Coracle, took the crystal ball between his hands and shook it hard. Instantly it became cloudy and opaque, as if gray fog were trapped inside; then the fog changed to violently swirling white particles. This gave the whole thing such a familiar appearance that Fess exclaimed in surprise. It looked precisely like a little glass paperweight he had at home, which produced just such a miniature snowstorm when he shook it. So striking was the resemblance that he found himself watching dubiously as the ball cleared, half-convinced it would reveal nothing more than a little snowman.

  What it did reveal was even more disappointing. There, shimmering amid the last settling snowflakes in the crystal ball was merely the image of another crystal ball.

  For an instant they all stared at it blankly.

  “Maybe it means the Circlet is around here somewhere,” Fess ventured, peering into the empty boat.

  “Nonsense!” the Prince said in annoyance. Before Fess could stop him, he gave the ball an angry shake, and pointing to the

  image, demanded, “What is that supposed to represent?”

  At once the little bell chimed, and the miniature snowstorm raged, then cleared to show exactly the same image. This time it was larger and more distinct; it even quivered a little, as if the Oracle were trying hard.

  “Oh, wait, please, Your Highness!” Fess cried, seeing that Prince Gules had his mouth open to ask another irritated question. “Be careful! That’s two of our questions gone, and we haven’t any more gold pieces! Do think before you ask it anything else!”

  “Oh, you ask it something! I’m tired of its silly ways,” said Gules, handing the Oracle to Fess.

  Fess thought anxiously a moment, then asked, “How can we find the three Golden Circlets of Halidom?”

  He shook the ball. As the swirling snow cleared for the third time, they could see that the former image was gone, and smoky words were beginning to take shape instead. Everyone pressed closer to Fess, the Flittermouse leaning perilously far out of his collar and Fred breathing hoarsely into his ear.

  “It’s a rhyme!” Fess said, an
d read it out. “Circlet One, in strange disguise, Will lie unseen before your eyes. Flight and chance will set it free; Despoil the gift to royalty.”

  As the travelers stared uncomprehendingly, the words shimmered and began to fade.

  “Oh, hooray,” snorted Fred with a withering glance at the

  Oracle. “Why, that solves everything, doesn’t it? Now if we can just locate those fellows Flight and Chance . .

  “Why must it be so mysterious?” the Prince said in disgust.

  “I seem to remember that Oracles are famous for that,” Fess sighed. “It’s disappointing, but-”

  “Wait! There’s more coming!” the Unicorn interrupted. Sure enough, new words were forming as the first ones vanished. This time they read:

  “Circlet Two, of purest gold, Was carried off by a villain bold. Problems will your path encumber; Trust in the humblest of your number.”

  “My rhymes make more sense than that, don’t they, Fess dear?” the Flittermouse said jealously. “Even if they’re not quite

  as-”

  “Here’s more, here’s more!” Fess exclaimed, as a third verse formed.

  “Circlet Three, a tiny thing,

  Is in the hands of a future king.

  Go by night, return by day,

  The Circlet find in a roundabout way.”

  The words remained a moment within the Oracle, then slowly faded, and though they waited hopefully, no more appeared.

  “End of instructions,” Fred said flatly. “Clear as mud. Easy as sneezing. Naturally, we won’t have the slightest trouble finding a future king. Anybody who is anybody knows dozens, I’m sure. He stamped a hoof so hard it made a six-inch hole in the snowy sand. “I never heard of such a waste of gold pieces!”

  “Yes, put the useless thing back in its boat, and let’s be off before we freeze solid!” the Prince said with scorn.

  “It’s rude and crude,” agreed Flitter. “And I’m cold as gold,” he added pitifully.

  The Prince mounted without further ado as Fess replaced the Oracle on its stand. Before the Coracle had borne its strange cargo back to the middle of the Link, Fred was half way around the edge of the shore. But Fess stayed behind long enough to scribble the verses on a scrap of paper torn from the register book.

  “If I don’t we’re sure to forget what they said, and we might understand them later, if we keep trying,” he explained to the Unicorn as he climbed hastily onto her back.

  “I think that’s very wise,” she told him gently. “You know, I believe I already understand one line. ‘The humblest of your number’ must mean the Flittermouse, mustn’t it? Because it wouldn’t be His Highness or me or you, though it might be that Steed.”

  “Depends on what it means by ‘humblest’,” Fess said with amusement. “Federigo certainly doesn’t act humble.”

  “That’s precisely why I doubt if his blood-lines are as aristocratic as he pretends. Persons of Real Quality don’t boast so much.”

  “But how could it mean me?” the Flittermouse said in a rather panic-stricken voice. “I couldn’t find a Circlet all by myself!”

  “It only says for us to trust you,” the Unicorn remarked. “And that,” she added graciously, “I’m quite prepared to do.”

  Flitter was so flattered at this kind speech that he crawled out Fess’s collar and sat proudly on the Unicorn’s head, muttering

  lists of words that rhyme with “unicorn” so that he might compose a song in her honor.

  He had just given up in despair on “unicorn” and begun on “emblem” when they reached the opposite side of the Link, where Fred had stopped in front of the oddest sign they had yet seen. It

  merely “Exit”, but the letters were painted on red glass, with dim light behind the glass and a doorway framed by red velvet urtains below. It all looked exceedingly strange and out of place this snowy landscape.

  “Where do you suppose the door leads to?” said Prince Gules, who was trying unsuccessfully to see through the high, thick shrubbery on either side.

  “Out, that’s where,” Fred told him. “Come on, any place is better than here!”

  Recklessly, he shouldered the door open and went through,

  the Unicorn at his heels. Next instant both were trying in vain

  to scramble back through the closed door, as all the travelers gazed downward in horror. They had emerged onto a narrow, shaky platform of iron bars, below which they could see nothing but empty space, with a series of equally frail-looking landings de-sceending dizzily to the ground far below.

  “It’s a fire-escape!” Fess gasped.

  “And we haven’t even had the fire,” Fred groaned. Teeth chattering, he made another plunging assault on the stubbornly closed door, nearly knocking the Unicorn off the platform in the attempt and causing the Flittermouse to skid off her head.

  “You’re crowding us! You’re crowding us!” the little creature squeaked, wildly fluttering his wings. “look out!” cried Prince Gules.

  There was a loud clang, and instead of looking anywhere, all five travelers shut their eyes tight, for the platform had suddenly tilted, turned itself into a perilous sort of ramp down which they tobogganed helter-skelter, and shaken them furiously onto the next platform below, which immediately clanged and tilted too. For the next few minutes they did nothing but scramble, slide, and half-fall downward, as the fire-escape shuttled them roughly from one level to the next. At last it dumped them off unceremoniously at the bottom, folded itself up again with a series of malevolent clangs, and disappeared entirely.

  Breathless, dizzy, and shaking, they were just beginning to pick themselves up when Fess discovered the Flittermouse was missing. Realizing the little creature must have fluttered away somewhere in the uproar, he scrambled to his feet and was looking frantically

  around when Fred gave a loud, terrified neigh and yelled,

  “Help! A lioncel.’ A lioncel! Help! Help!”

  At the same moment, there was a shrill scream, followed by a perfectly tremendous roar, and an unfamiliar voice shrieked,

  “Help! Help! A bat! Go ‘way! Go ‘way!”

  Chapter 10

  “You know what, Ozma?” said Princess Dorothy, stopping short to stare at a lily bush in the palace gardens. “We ought to have an Easter party!”

  “Well! Did you see that written on a lily-petal?” the Wizard asked her.

  Dorothy returned the broad smile lighting the face of her old friend, and said, “Not exactly, but the lilies made me think of Easter, and that made me remember that Easter’s only a week away, and that reminded me that we haven’t made any plans, and THAT made me think-”

  “-that we ought to make some,” the Wizard finished.

  “It’s a good idea!” Ozma declared. “We haven’t had a party in ages. Who shall we invite?”

  “Children, of course,” answered a brisk voice, and Dorothy’s yellow hen, Billina, fluttered out from underneath a rosebush.

  “Billina! Have you been hiding your nest again?” exclaimed Dorothy with a suspicious glance beneath the bush.

  “Never you mind! Ozma lets me, don’t you, Ozma?” demanded the hen, and ruffled her feathers with satisfaction at Ozma’s amused nod. “Anyway, hiding eggs is the usual procedure at an Easter party, isn’t it? I’m just getting in practice,” she added with a shrill cackle of laughter.

  “Finding ‘em is what you do at the party,” Dorothy said. “Though somebody has to hide them beforehand. I b’lieve I’ll just appoint you Chief Egg-Hider, Billina-since you’ve had so much experience!”

  “Well, I must say!” began the Yellow Hen indignantly. But at the Wizard’s burst of laughter and Ozma’s mischievous smile, she gave in and chuckled too. “Oh, all right. I’ll hide ‘em. Will the party be outdoors?”

  “Of course. We have a perfect place for it,” Ozma said, glancing around the rolling lawns and gardens of the palace grounds. “Let’s have a nice big party, what do you say? I don’t see why we shouldn’t ask every single chi
ld in the Emerald City. Now let me think. They’ll all need baskets-”

  “That sounds like my department,” the Wizard observed. “Shall I make small baskets grow on all the bushes for half an hour or so, at the beginning of the party? Then each child could pick one. Or, if you would prefer something a little more striking-”

  “Have the baskets fall out of the trees onto their heads. That would be more striking,” chuckled a deep voice behind them, and the Cowardly Lion ambled out of a little summerhouse, where he

  had been taking an after-lunch nap.

  Billina gave another of her shrill cackles of laughter, and the others joined in. At the sounds of merriment, Scraps the Patchwork Girl came careening perilously around a bend in the path riding the palace cook’s bicycle, collided head-over-heels with a big snowball bush, and landed at Ozma’s feet, demanding to know what was up.

  “A patty’s up,” Dorothy giggled. “But you seem to be down.”

  “It’s up, I’m down. What’s more-alack! I’ve got a snowball down my back!”

  said Scraps, twisting her rag arm into an impossible position to pat the wet spot where the snowball had melted. “A party, you

  say? When? Where? Who? Why? Whee!” Turning an enthusiastic somersault, she announced herself ready to help. So Ozma and Dorothy sat down on a marble bench, Billina perched on the edge of a nearby fountain, and all four became engrossed in plans for the party, while the Lion lay purring sleepily and the Wizard leaned against a lantern tree and listened, smiling.