Dorothy Must Die

by Danielle Paige

  I left the banquet hall as soon as I was able to graciously excuse myself. The Scarecrow, watching me fumble in my excitement as I pushed my chair away from the table, muttered something to the Lion under his breath and they both laughed, but I didn’t care. The moment of truth was upon me. Whatever happened, I was going to tell Dorothy how I felt—and find out if my love was returned. It had to be, I told myself, my heart pounding as I approached Dorothy’s quarters. It simply had to be.

  Dorothy had already moved into Ozma’s former bedroom. She hadn’t had much time to change the decor to suit her—there were still lots of green veils, vines twisting down from the corners of the room, dotted with sweet-smelling blossoms that released occasional flurries of perfumed butterflies, and the burbling sound of a merry forest stream emanating from what looked suspiciously like a closet. Still, she’d dug up an enormous vanity somewhere, and it was already covered with pots and creams and powders and brushes, vials of perfume, and huge bouquets of flowers nearly bursting from their vases. A hot flood of jealousy surged through me. What admirers had sent her flowers? Why hadn’t I thought of that? And then Dorothy turned to face me, and all other thoughts fled my mind.

  She was seated before her vanity, in a soft silken dressing gown that flowed from her shoulders and pooled in a shimmering pile of fabric at her feet. Her long hair was down, brushed into a shining cape that spilled over her shoulders, and her blue eyes were wide and guileless as she looked at me. Without thinking, I crossed the room and knelt before her on one knee, lowering my head.

  “Dorothy,” I said, and stopped, overcome with emotion. Now that I was here—now that I was really, truly here, it seemed there was nothing I could possibly say that would express the real depths of my feelings.

  “Oh, Tin,” she said gently. “Don’t bow before me, my dear friend. It makes me feel like everything’s changed.” She put one slim hand below my chin, and tilted my face up so that I was looking directly at her. I struggled to keep my eyes away from the deep, tantalizing V of her dressing gown, focusing instead on her ruby-red mouth, which was no less distracting.

  “But everything has changed, Dor—Your Majesty,” I said. “The Scarecrow and the Lion are practically strangers. You have all this magic now, and you’re ruling the kingdom. And the witch—”

  “I trust Glinda,” Dorothy said firmly, “and so must you.”

  I seized both her hands in mine. “Dorothy,” I said breathlessly. “Run away with me. Away from whatever’s happening here. Oz will sort itself out. I’ll keep you safe. I swear it.”

  She smiled sadly, and to my horror I saw that her blue eyes were filling with tears. “Darling Tin,” she said softly, a single tear splashing across the silk of her robe. “You know I can’t do that. Oz needs me. Why else have I been called here? It’s my duty. I’ve already lost so much. What does it mean anymore to lose my freedom? My safety?” She sighed and looked away from me, but she didn’t let go of my hands. My heart nearly tore itself in two as I looked at her. She was so beautiful—so noble!

  “Dorothy,” I said, summoning all my courage. “You know I—you know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I will keep you safe, I swear it. I’ll protect you.”

  She smiled at me. “I would never ask that of you, dear Tin. No, go back to your kingdom, to the life you had before I returned and everything got turned upside down. At least one of us should have a chance at happiness.”

  I leapt to my feet and drew her to me. “Dorothy, never! I’ll never leave your side! Just let me stay by you. Let me be your protector. Please, Dorothy, it’s all I want.” I took a deep breath, crushing her to my chest as she looked up at me breathlessly. “Dorothy, I love—”

  At that moment, the door to Dorothy’s chambers flew open, and Glinda swooped in, followed closely by the Scarecrow. “Oh!” Dorothy gasped, startled, and let me go. Glinda’s mouth twitched in what looked almost like a smirk.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said in her syrup-coated voice.

  “Oh no,” Dorothy said, flustered and pulling her robe more tightly around her. She sat back at her dressing table, not looking at me. I thought, though I couldn’t have been sure, that the Scarecrow was trying not to laugh. “Tin was just telling me—he was just explaining that he would stay on in the palace, to be my protector,” Dorothy said.

  “How charming,” Glinda said brightly, all trace of her smirk gone. “What a good friend you have.” She smiled brilliantly at me. “I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job of keeping Dorothy safe,” she said. “Though I don’t think our new princess is in any immediate danger, here in the Emerald City.”

  “I could have enemies anywhere!” Dorothy said, a little peevishly. “Everyone is already jealous of me.”

  “I’m sure my magic is enough to keep you safe for now,” Glinda said. “But perhaps the Tin Man will come up with some alternate means of defense.” There was that eerie red glitter in the depths of her eyes again, and for the first time since I had come back to the palace, I felt actually afraid. I had the overwhelming urge to grab Dorothy and run out the door, flee with her back to the Winkies’ palace, the Sea of Blossoms—anywhere but here. Somewhere she’d be safe, and we could be alone, and all of this would be like a bad dream.

  The red spark flared, and I shook my head. Suddenly I couldn’t remember what I’d just been thinking about. “I can keep Dorothy safe for now,” Glinda was saying. “But we need more power. More strength.” She was talking to Dorothy, but looking at me, the red spark glowing with the same heartbeat pulse of Dorothy’s red shoes.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I said dully, rising almost as though some other force had taken control of my limbs and was marching me out of the room.

  “Good night, Tin,” Dorothy called, and the door to her room shut in my face.

  I went back to my own rooms and stood for a moment looking out the window. I had promised to help Dorothy. I’d said I would protect her. But if Glinda wouldn’t let me near Dorothy herself, what could I do? It took me a while before I thought of the obvious. A princess needed an army, and an army needed a general. That was what Glinda had been trying to get me to see. But where to find such a force? And then it hit me—of course. I was already a ruler myself. It would be a simple matter to bring the Winkies to the Emerald City so that they might protect Dorothy while she and Glinda figured out how to return Ozma’s stolen magic.

  Once I’d decided, it was a simple matter of slipping away from the palace. I didn’t tell Glinda—or Dorothy—of my plans. The army would be my gift to Dorothy. I spent the journey back to the Winkies’ kingdom imagining her reaction when I presented her with her new army. Her creamy cheeks flushing with color, her eyes sparkling, her ruby-red lips parting breathlessly with joy and awe. Finally, my actions would say what I hadn’t been able to tell her in words. And how could she possibly say no to me, when she was confronted with the force of my devotion? I knew she felt something for me, knew it all the way down to my tin joints. It was in the way she looked at me—in the way she’d let me hold her in her room. It was in everything she said to me. She loved me, I was sure of it—but she was too good, too selfless, to allow her feelings for me to get in the way of her duty to Oz. But once she and Glinda had restored the stolen magic, we’d be free to be together. Glinda would find a true successor, and Dorothy and I could go—why, we could go anywhere. I’d always wanted to visit Polychrome and see the Rainbow Falls. Maybe even a parasol sailing trip across the Sea of Blossoms. I’d heard they were the most romantic spots in all of Oz, but I’d never had anyone to share them with.

  I was so lost in my reverie the journey passed in a flash. I didn’t even stop to rest or refresh myself when I reached my palace. I strode into my throne room, bellowing for my chancellor, Norbert. He was the most dignified Winkie I could find among my subjects: over the Winkies’ traditional costume of short pants and suspenders, he liked to add a suit jacket and pince-nez. Unfortunately, it was difficult for someone th
ree feet tall and covered with yellow fur to really convey the impression of professionalism, and the decor of the throne room didn’t help. The Winkies’ palace was comfortable enough, and I wasn’t much of a home decorator, so I’d never gotten around to making any changes other than having furniture large enough for a full-size man made for my own rooms. The Winkies were enthusiastic artists, if not very good ones, and the walls of the throne room were painted with a lurid series of murals depicting hallucinatory scenes of glowing yellow Winkies drifting through a variety of Ozian landscapes—Winkies floating over the poppy fields, Winkies climbing mountain ranges, Winkies sailing in tiny airships over the Sea of Blossoms, Winkies splashing in the Rainbow Falls. For the first time it occurred to me that they were hideously ugly. I’d let the Winkies make all the changes they wanted to the palace after the defeat of the Wicked Witch of the West, but maybe I should have been a little stricter with them.

  When Dorothy had restored Oz’s magic and no longer had to live in the Emerald City as its ruler, I would ask her to come live with me. But to be honest, it was hard to picture her here. Perhaps I should remodel. But those plans could wait. I had more pressing matters to attend to.

  “Tomorrow morning, my subjects must assemble in the courtyard,” I instructed the chancellor as he scribbled furiously on his ever-present notepad, pushing his pince-nez up on his nose as it slipped down toward his luxurious golden moustache. “I want everyone. From the smallest child to the oldest of the old. I have a tremendously important announcement.” He nodded industriously, mouthing the words to himself as he wrote them down.

  “Yes sir,” he said cheerfully, “I’ll see to it, sir. Will you be wanting your usual oil bath, sir? We’ve some nice new artisanal scented oils in from the country of the Quadlings. And Polychrome sent you a new travel brochure. It’s the darnedest thing, sir, a singing telegram, if you can believe that? So impressive what they can do with magic these days. Why, when I was a lad, we hadn’t any such—”

  “I don’t think you understand,” I said coldly. “This is not business as usual. The future of Oz is going to change tomorrow.”

  “Yes sir,” he repeated absently, chewing the end of his feather quill. I stared at him in disbelief. Why wasn’t he taking me seriously? I knew the Winkies were silly creatures and always had been. I’d never tried to impose much discipline during my rule; there hadn’t been any point. But couldn’t he hear in my voice how important this was? I was offering my people a chance to make history and he was babbling on about travel promotions? I felt an unfamiliar emotion seize hold of me. My heart felt strange in my hollow chest, heavy and hot. I could almost sense it glowing inside me like an ember the color of Dorothy’s shoes. The Wizard’s gift had brought me love, but I realized it was also giving me a new feeling entirely: fury. Dorothy trusted me with her life, and I wasn’t going to let this stupid Winkie keep me from my duty. A red haze descended over my vision, obscuring the room around me, and my hands moved forward of their own volition, grabbing handfuls of mist. It pooled in my palms like water, pouring between my fingers to fall heavily to the ground, where it slid across the floor in an ever-spreading wave of red. I watched it move, fascinated. It moved almost like an animal, like something with an intelligence behind it.

  A strange choking noise interrupted my reverie, and I looked down. To my astonishment, my hands were wrapped around Norbert’s throat, squeezing the life out of him as his eyes bulged desperately. In shock, I opened my fingers, and he collapsed to the floor wheezing for breath. As quickly as it had appeared, the red mist dissipated into long, slender tendrils that slithered into cracks in the stone walls and vanished. I couldn’t remember where I was or why my chancellor was staring up at me as though I was about to bite off his head. I looked around, blinking, only recognizing the familiar furniture of my throne room after a long moment. Why was I in my throne room? How had I even gotten here? My chest felt strange, as though my heart was moving around inside it. Something was happening to me—something I couldn’t explain.

  “Everything will be as you wish in the morning, Your Majesty,” my chancellor whispered, his voice shaking. What had I wished for in the morning? I thought about this for a while, and then remembered I had wanted to address my subjects. That was it. An army. I was building Dorothy’s army, as a gift to her. Relieved, I nodded, still not entirely sure why my chancellor was lying at my feet. Perhaps he’d slipped? I didn’t remember that either. I needed a good bath to clear my head.

  “Excellent work,” I said, and left him in a heap on the floor as I went to my rooms.

  I summoned a few of the house Winkies with the bell I kept in my room for such purposes, and they obligingly drew me a bath of warm oil. Was it just my imagination, or did they keep looking at me? Why was everyone acting so strangely? The oil was perfumed, I noticed—hadn’t Norbert been saying something about a new shipment?—and a rich, pleasant scent filled my bathroom. Tin man that I am, I don’t have much need of the ordinary human fixtures. I don’t even really sleep anymore, though I do my best to follow the rhythms of a normal human day. But I do enjoy a good oil bath. I sank into the warm, sweet-smelling oil, dismissing the Winkies with a wave of my hand. They practically ran out of the room. Something was definitely up, but I had no idea what it could be.

  As the oil cooled, I turned my thoughts to the next morning. I’d make a short speech to the Winkies, explaining the situation. They were too foolish to really understand the complexities of politics, but as long as I explained things simply they should be able to follow. I had no doubt they’d be as eager as I was to defend Dorothy. It was true, I supposed, that they wouldn’t make the most intimidating army. They were awfully short, and the suspenders sometimes made them look a little silly. But they were only the beginning, and I knew Dorothy would be delighted with my initiative. I’d march them to the Emerald City and assemble them for her so she could see all the work I’d already done on her behalf, and then I would find more recruits. Everyone in Oz, I knew, would be happy to help out on behalf of their savior, the girl who killed the wicked witches. I wondered idly how the next ruler of Oz would be chosen, once Glinda and Dorothy had restored the stolen magic. It was too bad about Ozma. I’d always sort of liked her. But there was no telling what kinds of wicked secrets even good people were hiding.

  SIX

  The next morning dawned clear and sunny. I polished my arms and legs and torso until the metal gleamed like mercury in the morning sun. I got my crown out of the Winkie-size wardrobe in one corner of my room and polished that, too, setting it on top of my head when it glowed as brightly as my tin skin. I finished my preparations just as Norbert knocked softly at my door, announcing that my subjects were assembled in the courtyard as I had requested. His suspenders, I noticed, were new, and his suit jacket had been ironed sometime since last night. Even his shoes were buffed. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, for some reason, and I almost asked him what had gotten into everybody.

  The Winkies were gathered in a noisy, chattering group in the large courtyard in front of the palace’s main door, but they fell silent as soon as I came out of the palace, eyeing one another. Norbert bobbed obsequiously at my side, wiping his furry brow with a spotted handkerchief. I surveyed them, my heart sinking a little. They really were sort of—well, unimpressive. And there weren’t that many of them either. But Oz was not exactly a land noted for its martial power, and Winkies could be as courageous as anybody if they were given the chance. I noted with approval that they were standing carefully so as not to trample the lovingly cultivated flower beds. They might be silly and undisciplined, but that was at least a start. What mattered most was that Dorothy would see how much I cared, how much I was thinking about her.

  “My most devoted subjects,” I began, gazing out over their upturned faces. “It has been a great honor to be your ruler, and I am proud to have done such an excellent job overseeing your welfare. I have gathered you here today to alert you to a number of important changes that are taking plac
e in Oz.” Their faces were blank. Undaunted, I continued. “I am afraid I have some disheartening news about the Princess Ozma. Though we believed her to be a good and kind ruler, she has in fact betrayed us.” At this, the Winkies exchanged startled glances. “I have learned that she has been stealing the magic of Oz for her own purposes. But all will soon be well, for something wondrous has happened.” My cloth heart soared in my chest. There was something about saying it out loud that made it seem really true. “The beloved Dorothy Gale has returned to Oz to help us!”

  A murmur of astonishment rippled through the little crowd. “Dorothy the Witchslayer?” piped up a young Winkie in the back, who was quickly hushed by his fellows. But I didn’t mind the interruption.

  “The one and the same,” I said proudly. “When Oz was in need before, she came to us, and now that Oz needs her again, she has returned to us.” The Winkies didn’t need to know that I still hoped in my heart of hearts she’d come for me. “She came to convince Ozma to return the magic she had stolen to the land, but Ozma refused. In the ensuing battle, Ozma cast a terrible spell that erased her own memory. Dorothy, in her generosity and selflessness, has agreed to govern Oz temporarily until a new ruler can be found. In the meantime, she will need an army to protect her. That army, my dear subjects, shall be you.”

  The Winkies were staring at me openmouthed. I frowned slightly. I had expected them to be more excited. Maybe I just hadn’t made myself clear. “We will leave for the Emerald City tomorrow,” I added. “Prepare yourselves. I do not know when we will return to this country. Our duty is to Dorothy, and we will serve her as long as she needs us.”

  The Winkie who’d spoken before was waving his hand furiously, and I nodded in his direction. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, less politely than I thought was appropriate. “You said all of us? Are leaving for the Emerald City? Tomorrow?”