I fell asleep, still in my clothes, just as the sun was coming up, filled with happiness. I was in Oz, and in just a few hours I would be reunited with my old friends the Lion and the Tin Woodman. I was in my own beautiful room in the Emerald palace, and, for now, no one—not even Aunt Em and Uncle Henry—could make me leave.
Best of all, I had magic. It was mine, and Ozma herself couldn’t take it away from me.
Fourteen
I hadn’t even stepped all the way into the great hall the next morning when I was tackled. A ball of golden fur came flying right for me, knocking me backward onto the carpeted floor of the hallway. A big, wet tongue licked my face.
It only took me a short moment to figure out what was going on. “Lion!” I squealed, wrapping my arms around him. Or, at least as far around as they would go. “Is it really you?”
“Who else would it be?” he asked in a low rumble, drawing back onto his haunches and licking his lips, gazing down on me kindly.
The Lion looked different than I remembered—he was bigger and wilder now, his yellow-brown mane tangled and matted, his arms and legs more powerful. When I’d first met him, the Lion had been timid and frightened, startling at the slightest sound. Even after the Wizard had given him his courage, he’d seemed as if he didn’t quite know how to be brave. Now, I could see, he’d grown into it.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” I said breathlessly, sitting up and blinking.
“And not just me either,” the Lion replied. “Look who else is here to see you.”
At the long banquet table inside the great hall, another familiar face rose to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. The Tin Woodman stood and held out a rose. “My dear,” he said, presenting the flower almost shyly. “I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to get any bigger, but seeing you again, it feels about to burst.”
I just ran to him. I didn’t bother taking the flower; I just flung myself against him, planting a kiss on his cheek. And if you didn’t think tin could blush then, well, you should have seen his face at that moment.
Aunt Em and Uncle Henry were seated at the table, looking on at the scene politely. I was embarrassed to see that they were back in their tatty old clothes and, though Em’s hair was still green, she and Henry both had combed their new ’dos back into as close to their normal styles as they would go. They just wouldn’t accept any changes.
Ozma had said we’d get them to come around, but I didn’t see how we ever would.
While Toto and the Lion wrestled playfully on the marble floor, I joined everyone else at the table.
“It’s so nice to see old friends reunited,” Ozma said, raising a champagne glass, filled with something purple, in a toast. “Here’s to Dorothy—beloved by all who meet her.”
“I think a certain Wicked Witch would disagree with you there,” I said, but I clinked with everyone—even Em and Henry.
The table was covered in everything you could want for breakfast—and a lot of things I’d never thought to want.
There were fantastical fruits that sang witchy, enchanting little songs when you weren’t looking at them and fresh eggs with bright yellow speckles that cooked themselves however you wanted as soon as you cracked them open onto your plate. There were oddly shaped pastries and a rainbow of juices in little crystal pitchers. Some of the food seemed like a bit of a nuisance, really—like the sticky buns that wouldn’t let go of the plate and the flapjacks that flipped out of your way when you tried to take one—but it was definitely the most exciting breakfast I’d seen in all my life.
I helped myself to a little bit of everything, chattering in excitement as I heaped food onto my plate.
“You have to tell me everything!” I said. “Everything that’s happened since I’ve been gone. The Scarecrow told me a bit, but, Lion, have you really been living up in the mountains with all the beasts? And—oh!”
I let out a scream as a piece of toast that I had just dropped onto my plate burst into flames.
Everyone laughed—even Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.
“Same thing happened to me,” Henry said, as the flame grew. “I venture to say my scream was even higher pitched than yours. Just wait.”
I waited, and when the flame burned out, a piping-hot glazed doughnut was sitting on my plate. It practically melted in my mouth as I bit into it.
“Tin Woodman,” I asked, still chewing. “How is Winkie Country now that the Wicked Witch of the West is gone? Are the Winged Monkeys happy these days? I hope that you’ve found yourself a lady to keep you company, now that you have your new heart and all.”
The Tin Woodman’s metal cheeks flushed with a glow even rosier than before. “I can’t say I have,” he said. “But I’ve been very happy anyway.”
“Happier now that you’re here, Dorothy,” the Scarecrow said. “We all miss you.”
“We’ve all missed you,” the Lion said, finally turning his attention to those of us at the table. He picked Toto up in his jaws and carried him by the scruff of his neck over to me, dropping my panting dog into my lap.
“And there’s so much for you to see and do,” the Tin Woodman said. “Oz has changed so much since you went away. With the witches killed and the Wizard gone, it’s a much happier place now. You won’t believe your eyes when we visit Polychrome at the Rainbow Falls. And your aunt and uncle are going to love Sky Island.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Henry interrupted. I knew what was coming before the words were out. “We’re not going to have time for sightseeing. We have to get back to Kansas just as soon as we’re able to.”
I rolled my eyes openly and took a blueberry scone from a tray in the center of the table. As soon as it was in my hand, another one appeared on the tray to take its place.
“Don’t you and Em have anything better to do than bother us with more boring Kansas talk?” I asked with every bit of fake-sweetness I could muster. “Maybe there are some slop buckets in the garden that you can haul around all day. Or a field to plow?”
Henry’s jaw dropped in surprise at my sudden rudeness. I have to admit, I was surprised at myself, too, but I really didn’t see why he had to keep picking at me like this when he could see perfectly well how much it upset me. Still, I didn’t want to embarrass everyone with another nasty argument.
I decided to try something. I looked him square in the eye and focused on my shoes, feeling them grow warm.
Using magic to control another human being wasn’t anything that had even occurred to me when I had been practicing back in my room. Of course, I knew it wasn’t right, and I promised myself I wouldn’t make a habit of it. But if I could use the power I had to make my aunt and uncle see that staying in Oz was the only sensible choice for us, well wasn’t that a case where we all got what we wanted?
With every bit of confidence that I was doing the thing that was more than justified, I invited the magic in. With just a thought, I pulled it up through my body and then directed it out at my uncle, imagining him saying the words I wanted to hear.
“I think your aunt and I are going to go take a walk,” he muttered stiffly, just as if I had scripted it myself. Well, I had, hadn’t I? “After all, there’s so much to see in this beautiful land, and I want to take in every single bit of it if it takes me all year.”
Aunt Em looked too surprised to question him when Henry pulled himself away from the banquet table and took her hand to get up. Without even saying good-bye, they walked mechanically out of the room.
The Scarecrow and the Lion and the Tin Woodman were all staring at their backs, confused at what had just happened. “Lovely to meet you!” the Tin Woodman called after them, but they were already gone.
Ozma was the only one not watching my aunt and uncle go. She was looking at me. “Dorothy . . . ,” she said.
I cut her off. “Thank goodness,” I sighed. “Finally, we can have a real conversation without all their bothersome complaining.”
Ozma nodded slowly, her brow furrowing in concern. F
rustration started to boil beneath my skin. She was just as bad as they were, in her own way. But she let the issue drop, for now at least, and silently took another dainty sip of her fizzy purple drink.
I wasn’t going to let her ruin my reunion with my best friends—my only friends, really. Actually, I wanted to jump for joy. I had just done magic. Real, live, actual magic! It hadn’t even been that difficult. I’d just imagined what I wanted Henry to do, and he’d done it, like he was a marionette and I was standing over him pulling the strings. If that was all it took, they would never be able to make me go back to Kansas. And imagine what else I could do.
I knew, suddenly, that the shoes weren’t just meant to get me back to Oz. They were meant to teach me things. To show me what Ozma—the spoilsport!—wouldn’t.
Now the Tin Woodman was waxing on about the beauty of Sky Island with its rivers of lemonade and its cloud mountains, and how he so wished we could all visit it together. The Scarecrow was listening closely, interrupting from time to time with a detail the Tin Woodman had forgotten, and the Lion roamed around the room restlessly, with Toto following after him like—well, like a puppy, actually.
Through it all, Ozma was cheerful and bright-eyed, happy to be part of the conversation, but every now and then she’d glance over at me searchingly, like she was looking for something.
I kept wishing that she would just leave. I had to talk to my friends. Alone. The Scarecrow knew it, too. He kept suggesting things to her—things like, “Oh, it’s getting late, isn’t it time for you to go find Jellia and discuss your schedule for the day?” But Ozma didn’t take the bait. I wondered if she was just having a good time or if there was more to it—if maybe she didn’t trust us to be alone together.
It was risky to try using magic on her. Doing a little spell on my uncle was bound to be different than doing it on a fairy who already knew a thing or two about spells herself. Then again, my shoes were powerful. When she’d given me my makeover yesterday, her own magic hadn’t even been able to touch them. If they were powerful, it meant that I was powerful, too. Maybe even more powerful than she was.
So I gave it a spin. I changed her mind. This time, I tried to be more precise about what I was doing, so she wouldn’t be able to detect it and fight back.
I envisioned the magic as a tendril of ruby-red smoke, as thin and delicate as the smoke rings that Henry sometimes blew to make me laugh when he was smoking his pipe. I pulled it up from my shoes and sent it drifting invisibly across the table to burrow itself into Ozma’s ear.
A distant, distracted look made its way across her face. She looked as though she was trying to remember something. “I . . . ,” she said.
Go, I commanded silently. As soon as I thought the word, Ozma’s expression resolved itself into one of surprised realization.
“Please excuse me,” she said. “I think I left something in my chambers. Give me just a few minutes.” With that, she stood up, set her napkin down, and hurried out.
He didn’t say anything, but I was pretty sure I saw the Scarecrow smirk approvingly in my direction.
It wasn’t right. I do realize that. People aren’t little marionettes to be pulled this way and that without their say-so in the matter. On the other hand, just because it wasn’t right didn’t mean it wasn’t fun.
As soon as Her Royal Highness was out of earshot, he turned to me.
“Did you learn anything?” he asked. “Do you know where Glinda is?”
Everyone looked at me eagerly. Apparently the Scarecrow had filled them all in on his suspicions. Our suspicions, now.
“We’ve been waiting to hear,” the Lion rumbled. “We’ve all had our doubts about the princess from the very get-go. The way she just marched in here and acted like she owned the place. As if the Scarecrow here hadn’t been ruling perfectly well in her absence.”
The Tin Woodman set his fork down. “And where did she come from? How do we even know she’s the real princess? Just because she says so? She’ll offer up no explanation for where she’d been. I’m the governor of Winkie Country and the gentlest soul in all the land—you would think she would feel that she owed at least me an explanation. With my heart, I would be sure to understand.”
I leaned in and whispered. “I’m almost certain the princess is keeping something from me,” I confessed. “I don’t know what, but . . .”
“Oh dear,” the Tin Woodman said, a grave expression on his face.
“My brains almost never fail me,” the Scarecrow said. “And I truly think Ozma had something to do with Glinda’s disappearance. She’s never showed more than the most cursory concern for the Sorceress’s whereabouts. Dorothy, you’re back here for a reason. You have to find our friend. But keep your wits about you. Ozma may seem sweet. But everything I know tells me she’s dangerous.”
“I have to agree,” the Tin Woodman said. “I can feel it in the bottom of my heart.”
The Lion just growled softly.
I knew they were all right. But . . .
I wasn’t afraid of her. Suddenly I wasn’t afraid of anything. There was real power in my shoes. I could feel it. Every time I used them to cast a spell, I could feel myself getting better, stronger. And I wanted more.
Why should I be afraid? She was the one who should be afraid of me.
Fifteen
We spent hours sitting around the breakfast table. Long after the plates had cleared themselves and the morning had passed into afternoon, we’d laughed and commiserated, retelling stories of our old adventures and some new stories, too.
The Lion told me all about his adventures in the Northern lands—exotic by even Oz standards—and the Tin Woodman told me all about his experiences governing the unruly Winkie folk.
I told the story of my sixteenth birthday party, and I saw that it had moved my tin friend so greatly that a tear was trickling down his metal face.
“Oh dear,” he said, when he saw that I had caught him in his tenderheartedness. He dabbed at his face with a napkin. “This heart of mine is a wonderful gift, but it does make rust a significant concern.”
Soon after, he and the Scarecrow decided it was time to go tidy themselves up. The Lion ventured off to the forest just outside the city for his afternoon jog. I was still trying to decide what I was going to do with what was left of my day when Jellia Jamb, Ozma’s handmaid, appeared, summoning me to meet the princess in the garden.
The day was sunny and warm, and I found her sitting on a wrought-iron bench next to a tinkling fountain. She was looking fondly at a tiny little Pixie who was perched on her extended finger. They seemed to be deep in conversation.
“Oh!” Ozma exclaimed when she saw me approaching. The Pixie went fluttering away. “The little thing was just telling me the silliest joke. Everyone else thinks these Pixies are so irritating, but I think they’re amusing. Anyway, they’re part of Oz, aren’t they? And everything here has its place in the order of things.”
Is she kidding? I wondered. This Little Miss Sunshine act would make Shirley Temple herself want to tap-dance right off a cliff.
“Anyway,” she said brightly. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I folded my arms and prepared myself for the haughty lecture she was about to give me. About how I’d lied to her about the shoes, about how she had warned me not to do magic, and how I’d had the nerve to disobey her. About how reckless she thought I was being.
Maybe she didn’t know it, but even if I was in Oz, I was still a citizen of the United States, and where I came from we didn’t put much stock in self-appointed monarchs—no matter whether their blood was blue or purple or sprinkled with fairy dust.
Sometimes even a princess can surprise you, though. “I think I’d like to throw you a big party,” Ozma said. “What do you think about that?”
She had caught me off guard. “What kind of party?” I asked, suspicious. A party? I was sure she’d seen what I’d done at the breakfast table. Even if she hadn’t felt me magicking her, she had to
have noticed me casting a spell on Henry. I’d seen the expression on her face. Now she wanted to throw me a party? There had to be some sort of catch.
Ozma stood up and did a playful little pirouette across the grass, and I remembered suddenly that, fairy princess or not, she was really just a girl. A girl who was lonely—a girl who had been waiting and waiting for someone like me to keep her company. She needed me. Maybe she was willing to let a spell here and there slide. What’s a little magic between girlfriends, right?
“Oh, a wonderful party,” she said dreamily. “I don’t suppose you’re sick of your birthday already, are you?”
“Sixteen is a big one,” I allowed hesitantly.
“Perfect!” she exclaimed. “It’s been too long since I threw a ball. We so rarely have an occasion. I don’t even know when my own birthday is—isn’t that terrible? But all of Oz loves a party, and the whole city’s already abuzz with your return. A celebration is in order!”
I had to admit I liked the sound of it. “The party Aunt Em threw for me was . . . well, it wasn’t quite what either of us hoped,” I said. “Maybe this can be a do-over. I’m sure it would make her happy, too, to get it right this time.”
Ozma clapped her hands. “Of course! A do-over!” She said the word as if she had never heard it before, as if she was savoring each syllable as it rolled off her tongue. “We’ll invite everyone,” she said. “The Munchkins, the Winkies, even the Nomes and the Pixies and the Winged Monkeys and all of Oz’s most important personalities. Polychrome will come from the Rainbow Falls; and I hope the Wogglebug can tear himself away from his classes at the university. We’ll even invite General Jinjur—though I’m sure she won’t make it. She’s not much for dances.” Ozma rolled her eyes. “I have to tell you about Jinjur and her all-girl army sometime.”
Dorothy Must Die: The Other Side of the Rainbow Collection: No Place Like Oz, Dorothy Must Die, The Witch Must Burn, The Wizard Returns, The Wicked Will Rise Page 67