L. Frank Baum - Oz 37

by The Magical Mimics In Oz

  On this particular morning King Umb and Queen Ra secluded themselves in a hidden cavern, deep in the underground caves that honeycombed the depths of hollow Mount Illuso. Roughly hewn from the grey rock, this cavern was circular in shape and was filled with ancient books and strange and weird implements of sorcery and enchantment. King Umb possessed little skill in magic arts, but Queen Ra was powerful in the practice of conjuring and evil incantation.

  After the visit of Queen Lurline to Mount Illuso and the casting of the powerful enchantment that prevented King Umb and Queen Ra from leading their Mimic subjects in the destruction of Oz, Queen Ra had at first raged and fumed and wildly vowed vengeance on Queen Lurline and Princess Ozma. Then, as the years passed by, the evil Queen spent more and more time lurking in the secret cavern studying the ancient sorcery of the Erbs, employing her black arts to follow events in the history of Oz, and plotting the destruction of the fairyland.

  Of course the Mimic King and Queen were free to lead their hordes in attacks on people of other lands, and you may wonder why they didn’t forget all about Oz and content themselves with bringing misery to other countries. The reason was that the wicked King and Queen of the Mimics despised all that was good, and they could not endure the thought of the Oz people living in peace and contentment, safe from their evil-doing. So long as the Oz inhabitants remained the happiest people in all the world, King Umb and Queen Ra could derive no satisfaction in bringing misery to other less

  happy lands.

  Queen Ra was well aware that Princess Ozma was one of the most powerful fairy rulers in existence, and that her loyal friend, Glinda the Good, was the mightiest and wisest of all sorceresses. Nevertheless, through her own dark magic, Queen Ra had recently made two important discoveries that raised her hopes so high that she believed she might be able soon to defy both Ozma and Glinda.

  First, she had discovered that Ozma and Glinda were about to depart on a journey that would take them away from the Land of Oz. Second, she had learned that in one of Ozma’s books of magic records in the Royal Palace of the Emerald City was written the charm that would break the spell Queen Lurline had cast on the Mimics to protect Oz!

  This morning Queen Ra had assumed the shape of a huge woman C4 almost a giantess C4 with the head of a grey wolf. King Umb wore the form of a black bear with an owl head. The Queen held in her hands a circlet of dully gleaming metal. The red eyes of her wolf head gazed at it steadily, while she muttered an incantation. As the wolf-headed woman spoke, a wisp of grey mist appeared in the center of the metal ring. The mist expanded into a ball, growing denser in appearance. Next it became milky in hue, then opalescent, finally glowing as with an inner light. Slowly a scene appeared in the metal-bound ball of shimmering opal mist.

  While King Umb and Queen Ra watched, the Throne Room of the Royal Palace in the Emerald City grew distinct in the milky depths of the captive ball. Princess Ozma stood by her throne with Glinda the Good at her side. The lips of the little ruler were moving, forming words, although the Mimic Monarchs could distinguish no sound. Ozma was addressing her subjects. Then

  the girl Ruler smiled and raised her wand. In an instant both Ozma and Glinda had vanished. The ball of glowing mist disappeared. With a clatter, Queen Ra threw the metal circlet to the stone floor of the cave and triumphantly faced the owl-headed bear. “They have gone!” she cried.

  “You are positive that now is the time for us to act?” asked King Umb. “Absolutely,” said the wolf-headed woman. “We know that one of Ozma’s magic record books holds the secret of the enchantment cast on us. We know that Ozma and Glinda will be absent from Oz for three days, leaving the country and the Emerald City unprotected by their magic arts. We know that those people who have in recent years come from the great outside world to live in Oz were not inhabitants of Oz when Lurline made it a fairyland. Thus they are not protected by the enchantment she cast on us. It will be simple for us to assume the shapes of these people C4 of course they are mere mortals,” the Queen added with a sneer, “but even so they will serve our purpose.”

  “You have a plan, then?” asked the owl-headed King. “A plan that will result in the utter destruction of Oz and the enslavement of the Oz people,” asserted the Queen with grim relish. “Listen!” the wolf-headed woman commanded. “Tonight you and I, with Styg and Ebo, will fly swiftly across the Deadly Desert to the Land of Oz. We will go directly to the Emerald City. There we will seek out the two mortals from the great outside world whose shapes will admit us to every part of the Royal Palace. My magic arts have told me that at a certain hour tomorrow morning these two mortals will be together with no one else about to witness or interfere

  with our deed. After we have stolen their shapes, the helpless mortals will be seized by Styg and Ebo and returned here, where they will be our prisoners. Then we will be free to search through Ozma’s magic record books. As soon as we locate the magical antidote to Lurline’s enchantment, we will break the spell binding our subjects. By the time Ozma and Glinda return, Oz will be overrun by Mimics, and we shall be ready to give their royal highnesses a proper reception!” Queen Ra smiled wickedly as she finished this recital.

  The owl eyes of King Umb had been regarding Queen Ra intently as she revealed her plan. When she had finished, an evil leer spread over the King’s furry features.

  “Ra,” said King Umb, “you are the most wicked Queen who ever ruled the Mimics!” And that, by Mimic standards, was the highest compliment King Umb could pay his Queen.

  Several hours after midnight, King Umb and Queen Ra, followed by the two Mimics Styg and Ebo, slipped outside the entrance of the hollow mountain. Immediately all four assumed the shapes of giant birds, black of plumage and with powerful wings. During the creatures’ long flight over the Deadly Desert to Oz, they changed shapes a number of times, but always to another form of powerful bird.

  As they mounted into the air and soared through the dark night over the peak of Mount Illuso, King Umb cast a backward glance toward the summit of the mountain. “What about the Guardian?” he asked Queen Ra uneasily. “Bah!” the giant bird that was Queen Ra croaked derisively. “Who cares about her? Let her go on dreaming over her foolish flowers and sticks of wood C4 that’s all she has done all these years!”

  CHAPTER 5

  PRISONERS OF THE MIMICS

  High in the top of the tallest tower of the Royal Palace was the Wizard’s apartment. In this secluded spot the little man kept his magical tools and apparatus and could work undisturbed for long hours over difficult feats of magic. The morning after Ozma and Glinda had left, Dorothy had climbed the stair to the Wizard’s quarters, and she and the Wizard were deep in a discussion of matters of state.

  Two sides of the room they occupied were composed of tall French windows, rising from the floor to the ceiling and opening onto a spacious veranda. The windows were flung wide open to admit the refreshing breeze and the welcome sunlight.

  Suddenly the air was filled with the flutter of powerful wings, and four large, black-plumed birds settled on the veranda and stepped into the room. Glancing up in surprise at this sudden interruption, the Wizard exclaimed with annoyance, “Here, what’s the meaning of this intrusion?” (Since all birds and animals in the Land of Oz possess the power of human speech, the Wizard naturally addressed the birds as he would have spoken to human beings.)

  But the birds made no reply. Instead, two of them stepped swiftly toward Dorothy and the Wizard, who had risen in surprise and were standing beside their chairs. The two birds flung themselves on the shadows cast by the girl and the man. Instantly the birds vanished, and Dorothy and the Wizard found themselves staring in amazement at exact duplicates of themselves!

  Sensing that he was confronted by some sort of evil magic, the Wizard made an effort to reach his black bag of magic tools, which rested on a nearby table, but it was too late. Caught in the Mimic spell, the little man was powerless to move. Dorothy’s plight was the same; she could not so much as lift her little finge
r. All this had happened in much less time than I have taken to tell it, and it was so sudden and unexpected that our friends had not even had time to cry out.

  Now the Mimic form of Dorothy, speaking in Dorothy’s own voice, said to the two remaining birds, “Seize them, Ebo and Styg, and see that my commands

  are fulfilled!”

  One black bird grasped the form of the helpless Wizard, the other that of Dorothy. Then, flapping their powerful wings, the two birds passed through the windows and soared aloft, bearing their captives high into the heavens. Swiftly they left the Emerald City. In a few minutes it was no more than a lovely jewel set in the farmlands around it. The birds headed southeast in the direction of the Deadly Desert.

  At times in their flight, when the captives were able to exchange glances, Dorothy read in the Wizard’s kindly eyes a mute expression of concern for his little comrade. The girl tried to reassure him, but it was difficult to look brave when she was unable to move even an eyelash C4 and besides, Dorothy had to admit to herself, she didn’t feel at all brave just now. In another minute when Dorothy was gazing at the bird that was carrying her so swiftly through the air, she was startled to see the form of the creature shift and change. From a huge, eagle-like bird it changed to an enormous condor. Strange birds these were, Dorothy thought, which went about changing their shapes and stealing little girls and Wizards.

  As they flew over the yellow land of the Winkies, the motion of the bird’s body occasionally permitted Dorothy to look downward. Once she glimpsed, sparkling in the sunlight, the highly polished towers and minarets of a handsome tin castle. This, she knew, was the home of her old friend Nick Chopper the Tin Woodman, Emperor of the Winkies. Dorothy found herself wondering what the kind-hearted Nick Chopper would say if he could know that at this moment his dear friends were being carried high in the air over his castle, prisoners of two giant black birds! But there was no use speculating in this fashion. The Tin Woodman was powerless to aid them even if he had known their plight.

  With a start, Dorothy realized that the birds had crossed the border of Oz and were now flying over the Deadly Desert. The fact that they had left the Land of Oz behind them disturbed Dorothy greatly. Yet the little girl did not give way to fright. She had experienced so many strange and sometimes dangerous adventures in her lifetime that she had wisely learned never to despair.

  The journey over the desert seemed endless. Despite the great height at which the birds flew, Dorothy was beginning to feel faint and ill from the evil fumes of the sands by the time they reached the border of the Land of the Phanfasms. However, once past the desert, she was revived by the fresh air.

  Where were these great birds taking them? And why? As Dorothy pondered, she noted a sharp mountain peak jutting suddenly out of the grey, grim land of desolate waste and stone that lay below. Straight for the mountain flew the birds. In a few more minutes they descended with their victims to the

  entrance of the mountain. Passing through the stone portal, the Mimics retained their bird shapes, circling through the vast cavern of the hollow mountain. The cavern and corridors were deserted now that the sun was in th e heavens, and the Mimics had returned to their underground caverns to rest after the night of revelry.

  Styg and Ebo flew to a ledge of rock that jutted out from the mountain wall. Ebo muttered a magic word, and a rude stone door swung open revealing a lightless cavern. Dorothy was thrust into the cave, and a moment later the Wizard was deposited beside her in the darkness.

  Until now Dorothy had entertained a vague hope that in some way the Wizard’s magic powers would come to their rescue. But since the little man had none of his magic tools with him and could not speak to utter an incantation or move to make the motions of a charm, Dorothy realized that he was quite as powerless as she.

  CHAPTER 6

  DOROTHY AND THE WIZARD SPEAK STRANGELY “Oomph!” puffed the Scarecrow. “Whooosh!” gasped the Patchwork Girl.

  Colliding suddenly as they met headlong at a sharp turn in the garden path, both the Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl tumbled in a heap on the garden walk. A moment later they had risen to sitting positions and were regarding each other comically.

  The Patchwork Girl was a sorry sight. The high-grade cotton in her patchwork or “crazy-quilt” body was bunched together in all the wrong places. After running and dancing a great deal that morning C4 as she always did C4 the

  Patchwork Girl’s body had sagged, and she had grown dumpy in appearance. When this happened, she always lay down and rolled about until she had resumed her original plump shape. Now, after her abrupt meeting with the Scarecrow, her figure was in bad need of attention. The pointed toes of the red leather shoes sewn on her feet stood straight up. Her fingers, carefully formed and fitted with gold plates for fingernails, dug into the path on which she sat. Her shock of brown yarn hair hung down over her suspender-button eyes and over her ears, which were made of thin plates of gold. Between the two rows of pearls sewn in her mouth for teeth, her scarlet plush tongue stuck out impudently at the Scarecrow.

  The Patchwork Girl’s brains were slightly mixed, containing among other qualities a dash of poesy, which accounted for her habit of breaking into rhymes and jingles when it was least expected. Now she was too surprised to speak. She had been brought to life in the first place by a magic powder, and since she was always jolly and good-natured, the Patchwork Girl was a prime favorite among the Oz folks. Nicknamed Scraps, the queer girl laughed at dignity and liked nothing better than to dance and sing. It was impossible to be downcast for long in the company of this merry, carefree creature.

  “Why don’t you look where you’re going, Scraps?” said the Scarecrow ruefully as he brushed his blue Munchkin farmer trousers.

  “Now that you mention it,” replied the Patchwork Girl reprovingly, “I don’t have X-ray eyes, so I couldn’t see through to the other side of the hedge where I was going.”

  “All right,” said the Scarecrow as he rose to his feet. “Please accept my humble apologies.” The straw man gallantly assisted the Patchwork Girl to stand. “There’s no harm done. The spill was as much my fault as it was yours. I was thinking so deeply that I didn’t see you.” “What were you thinking about?” asked Scraps. “Dorothy,” replied the Scarecrow with a sigh. “Tell me, Scraps, have you seen her today?”

  “Not once,” answered the Patchwork Girl, combing her yarn hair with her fingers. “Until a few minutes ago, I’ve spent the entire day with Aunt Em, who sewed tight some of my stitches that were coming loose, sewed on my eyes with new thread so I wouldn’t lose ‘em, and sewed on a new pair of red shoes, as I’d worn holes in my old ones. Now I’m as good as new!” “Well,” replied the Scarecrow, with his broad smile, “that may be true, but I’d say no matter in how good condition you are, you’re always just sew-sew.” The smile quickly faded from the straw man’s painted face as he continued seriously, “Scraps, I’m worried about Dorothy.” “Don’t worry about Dorothy; she’s able to take care of herself,” said practical Scraps.

  “You don’t understand,” explained the Scarecrow. “You see, yesterday after Ozma and Glinda left for the Forest of Burzee, Dorothy asked me to help her plan a banquet to celebrate their return. Dorothy wanted me to think up some ideas for the entertainment to accompany the dinner. I agreed to set my famous brains to work on the problem and spent all last night in deep thought. This morning, bright and early, I rushed to Dorothy and started to tell her the ideas I had. You can imagine my surprise when Dorothy stared at me as though she hadn’t the faintest idea what I was talking about, and

  then turned and walked away from me.”

  The Scarecrow paused, his brow wrinkled with perplexity. “I don’t understand it,” he continued. “It isn’t like our sweet little Dorothy to be rude or absent-minded. She and the Wizard have been in Ozma’s Chamber of Magic all day, and I tried twice to see her, but each time she said she couldn’t be disturbed.”

  “Come to think of it,” replied Scraps quickly,
“Aunt Em remarked that she couldn’t understand why Dorothy hadn’t been in to see her. Dorothy always visits her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry at least once a day. But maybe she’s busy ruling while Ozma’s away.”

  This explanation failed to satisfy the Scarecrow. He was gazing into the distance down the garden path. “Isn’t that Trot and Cap’n Bill sitting on that bench over there?”

  “Whoop ti doodle who? Cap’n Bill and Trot It is as like as not!” sang the Patchwork Girl, turning a handspring and dancing toward the bench. The Scarecrow followed, and he and Scraps were warmly greeted by little Trot and old Cap’n Bill. The Scarecrow repeated his story of the strange manner in which Dorothy had been acting, but neither Trot nor Cap’n Bill had seen Dorothy that day. The old sailor was silent for a moment, considering. Then he said: “You know, it’s funny; but I was tellin’ Trot only a minute ago that the Wizard had me puzzled by the curious way he was behavin’.” “What do you mean?” asked the Scarecrow.

  “Well,” went on Cap’n Bill, “fer some time past I’ve been workin’ on a boat fer Ozma an’ her friends, so they could go sailin’ on that lake jest outside the Emerald City. I had everythin’ I needed ‘cept fer some tools,

  so the Wizard lent me some o’ his thet get the work done extra fast, ‘cause they’re magic tools. The boat’s nearly finished C4 a handsome craft, if I do say so myself. All she needs to make ‘er trim is a coat o’ paint. I thought it would be nice to have ‘er finished as a sort of surprise fer Ozma when she returns from this here fairy conclave, so I asked the Wizard to lend me his magic paint bucket and brush C4 the bucket always stays full, no matter how much paint you use from it, an’ the brush paints any color you want from the same bucket o’ paint. Well, the Wizard jest give me a funny sort o’ look and walked away, mumblin’ somethin’ about bein’ busy and havin’ somethin’ important to do. ‘Tain’t like the Wizard at all. Somethin’ ailin’ him,” concluded Cap’n Bill, wagging his grizzled head. “Then it’s the same thing that’s ailing Dorothy,” remarked the Scarecrow sagely.