At last, after what felt like a century, the staircase joined up with one of the hanging walkways. Hex collapsed on the slats, not even caring anymore if the monkey stabbed him in the back. The narrow, dangling walkway, swaying alarmingly under his weight, was hardly the safest place, but after the staircase it seemed as good as solid ground.
“Well, well, well,” the monkey said behind him, a note of grudging admiration in its voice. “You’re made out of sterner stuff than you look. I didn’t think you’d make it. We always end up having to carry humans the last part of the way. Trial by fire, they say. Pain in the ass, I tell you, and if you ask me it’s an outdated system, but nobody asks me anything around here. I have so many ideas about streamlining efficiency and data management—you should see the spreadsheet I designed last week—but they don’t even care. ‘Not the monkey way,’ they tell me. As if we should be stuck living in this backward—”
Hex interrupted the monkey’s beleaguered monologue. “The stairs are a trial? You mean the monkeys don’t use them?”
The monkey shot him an amused glance. “Are you kidding? We use the elevator. Look, I’m sure the queen is going to execute you—probably even with torture. Since you won’t live to see tonight, we might as well introduce ourselves. I’m Iris.” Hex gaped stupidly at the monkey.
“Iris? But that’s a girl’s name.”
The monkey gave him another look, this time one of disdain. “Because I am a girl, you moron. You think only men can crunch numbers and be honored members of the queen’s guard?” Iris brandished the spear at him.
“No!” Hex yelped hastily. “No. Of course not. Forgive me.” Apparently mollified, Iris looked at him expectantly. “Oh, right,” he said. “I’m Hex. Sorry.” Iris offered him a paw and he shook it gravely.
“Pleased to meet you, Hex,” she said. “And now it’s time for me to escort you to your doom.”
FIVE
To reach the monkey queen’s palace, Hex had to climb yet another flight of stairs. This one, however, wasn’t half as bad as the first; there was even a handrail. His fear of heights had settled into a kind of numb dread in his belly. Soon enough he’d be swinging around on vines like the monkeys themselves, he thought drily. Iris’s attitude had improved considerably since their formal introduction. She was whistling cheerfully behind him, and, though he had no doubt she’d be delighted to stick him again if he made any attempt to flee, she had laid off poking him with the spear.
The queen’s palace was a hut, a little larger and grander than the others Hex had seen but otherwise unremarkable. It sat in the center of a broad platform of planks that had been built above the treetops. From the platform, Hex could see for miles in every direction. There was the wall of trees, and just beyond it the heaving sea of flowers where the wolves had attacked; there was the blue plain he had crossed with Pete, and in the distance he could see the crimson splatter of the poppy field. He thought wistfully of how wonderful it would be to be back there again, nodding off under a huge red flower without a care in the world, but there wasn’t much point in longing for something that clearly wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. He wondered again what had happened to Pete. Had he been captured by the monkeys, too? But Iris’s disbelief had seemed genuine when she’d found him just after the wolf attack, and surely he would have seen if someone else had abducted Pete after they’d escaped from the wolves. No, Pete had abandoned him. Did this have something to do with the mysterious test he was supposed to take? Either way, he was on his own, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Iris cleared her throat loudly, and Hex realized he’d been staring off into space like an idiot. “Sorry,” he mumbled, slouching toward the door at Iris’s prompting. The hut was windowless, its smooth round walls interrupted only by a single door—monkey height, like everything else in the village.
“Go on,” Iris said impatiently, and he stooped and entered.
The inside of the hut belied its humble exterior. Its smooth, round walls were painted an eye-searing yellow; here and there, the yellow was augmented by even brighter murals depicting the queen floating regally over her subjects, outfitted for battle, and surrounded by bunches of bananas that looked—well, as though they had been finger painted by a monkey. An elaborate chandelier hung from the low ceiling, looking rather out of place. It had no doubt once been very fine, but was now bedecked with dried banana peels in various stages of decay.
Queen Lulu herself was lounging against a raft of brightly colored pillows with a surprising amount of dignity for a ridiculously dressed monkey. She wore a vibrant, ruffled pink dress, leopard-print stockings, and rhinestone-studded sandals, and her eyes were hidden behind enormous sunglasses. In one hand she held a jeweled scepter; in the other, a half-eaten banana, which she was busily gnawing. She swallowed the last bites as Hex approached the throne and chucked the peel up at the chandelier, where it added to the collection.
He had never met a royal monkey before, but it seemed prudent to err on the side of caution. He executed a sweeping bow, so low his forehead nearly brushed his shins, and the queen grunted with approval through a mouthful of banana. “This one has manners, at least,” she said. Her voice was rough and heavily accented—and strangely familiar. Staring at her, he thought he’d surely seen her before—and then a flash of memory leapt to the surface of his mind. A stooped, haggard old woman in a black hat—he was giving her a shapeless old felt hat that he knew was terribly important despite its appearance. “This seals our bargain,” the old woman hissed. “Giving me control of the monkeys? You’re even crueler than I am, human, and that’s saying something. They must raise you differently in the Other Place.” And then the memory was gone as quickly as it had come, but looking at the queen, he was flooded with a sudden sense of sick, terrible shame. The hat had had some kind of power over the monkeys, and it had been his. Why had he given it away? What had his past self done?
The queen was looking at him quizzically, and it was evident that whatever he had done, she had no memory of it—or, more likely, she didn’t recognize him thanks to Pete’s transformation spell. He patted his cheeks cautiously. The soreness was gone, but their shape was still unfamiliar. The queen was still staring at him, and he realized he was behaving like a lunatic.
“Er, Your Royal, um, Highness,” he stammered. “May your, uh, bananas be plentiful and the branches that hold your houses aloft remain strong.”
The queen raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’re an odd duck, but you’re charming enough,” she said. “Where’d you find this one, Iris?”
“I caught him trying to invade!” Iris piped up excitedly. “At the Wolf Gate! I think he might be a barbarian! He tried to tell me some nonsense story about a guide, but he’s clearly a spy.”
“A barbarian or a spy?” Queen Lulu asked drily, bemused by Iris’s enthusiasm. “How perfectly terrifying.”
“He could be both!”
“I’m neither!” Hex protested. “I’m only trying to—” What was he even trying to do? Without Pete, he was at a loss.
“I think we should execute him!” Iris was bouncing up and down on her heels in excitement. “For treachery! I mean treason!”
The queen reclined even further and waved a paw. Another monkey—this one dressed in a black velvet suit with a dapper red ascot—sauntered out of the shadows, bringing her a fresh banana, which she peeled languidly. He shot Iris an unmistakably evil look, which Iris returned haughtily. “Iris, calm yourself,” the queen said. “We haven’t executed a human in—well, we haven’t executed anyone ever.”
“Think how fun it would be!” Iris squealed in glee. “May I be the executioner, Your Majesty?”
“Be silent, you little fool,” snapped the monkey in black. Iris drew back, an expression of genuine hurt flashing across her face.
“Quentin, there’s no need to be cruel to the young and enthusiastic,” the queen said. “But I am rather curious as to how a lone traveler managed to cross the Sea of Blossoms and penet
rate the Wolf Gate with no weapons.” She pushed up her sunglasses, revealing intelligent brown eyes, and studied him carefully. “And no supplies.”
Hex was somewhat curious himself as to how he’d managed all those things, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. For all her monkey sass, the queen was obviously no dummy, and he had a feeling she’d know right away if he lied. Plus, he had no idea what he should even lie about. “I lost my memory in the poppy fields,” he said. “I’d been there for a long time—a really long time. I was rescued by a boy who told me he could help me find out who I was. He guided me here, but disappeared just after the wolves attacked. Then Iris found me and—well, here I am.”
The queen was staring at him incredulously. “Do you actually expect me to believe that?”
“A spy!” Iris shouted in excitement. “A traitor! Death to enemies of the queendom!”
“I know how it sounds,” Hex admitted. “But you have to believe me. I swear—”
He was interrupted by a tremendous clamor from the forest floor below. He wondered in terror if the wolves had broken through the wall. But these sounds were unquestionably monkeyish—shrieks, cackles, and almost-human-but-not-quite howls. There was a tremendous explosion and a cloud of foul-smelling smoke drifted past the queen’s hut. She leapt to her feet. “Those cursed rebels and their wretched demands! Iris,” she snapped, “take our prisoner to one of the guest huts at the edge of the forest. He’ll be safe enough there until we’ve quashed this little squabble and I can decide what to do with him.”
“But—” Iris protested.
“Now, Iris,” the queen said. “I have work to do!”
Grumbling, Iris grabbed Hex by the shoulder—none too gently—and shoved him out the door and down the stairs. The queen bounded after them, seized a vine hanging from a nearby tree, and swung off toward the sounds of battle. Her departure was punctuated by another explosion, this one even more impressive than the first.
SIX
Still grumbling, Iris led Hex away from the chaos over a wobbly series of interconnected walkways. The sun had set, and the monkeys’ city was lit by hundreds of glowing yellow balls that floated in the air. “Sunfruit,” Iris said, in answer to his unasked question. “You can eat it if no one remembers to bring you dinner, but then you won’t have a light.”
Hex soon lost any sense of direction. If he wanted to find his way out of here again, he wouldn’t be able to do it without the monkeys’ help. Finally, Iris stopped at a low hut, more roughly built than others they’d passed but still as neatly constructed as a ship. He followed her inside to a little room lit by another, smaller sunfruit. The room was sparsely furnished with just a hammock and a single table and chair, but everything was tidy and clean. Iris rang a little bell shaped like a banana, and in a few moments another monkey dressed in a butler’s outfit brought in a tray of . . . bananas. Hex almost groaned out loud. At the very corner of the tray was a small, steaming bowl. “Oatmeal for you, sir,” the butler said politely as Iris helped herself to several bunches of banana.
“Oatmeal?” Hex wondered aloud as the butler bowed and left them. “For dinner?”
“Humans love oatmeal,” Iris said authoritatively.
Hex decided not to argue. “What’s going on out there?” he asked, sinking down onto the hammock to eat his oatmeal—which was burnt. Iris hovered awkwardly for a moment, still chewing, and then frowned and settled into the chair.
“The monkeys are split,” she said heavily, swallowing the last of her banana. “Before Dorothy”—there was that name again—“came back to Oz, all the monkeys had wings.” She flapped her arms, as if to demonstrate. “We flew all over Oz as we pleased when Ozma ruled. But then Dorothy took over and Ozma went—well, wherever she is. Our wings have always been vulnerable to magic—we’ve been enslaved by one ruler after another, including that cursed Wizard.”
Wizard? Hex thought. Was that me? Was that what I remembered in the queen’s palace? He shifted uncomfortably, but Iris didn’t notice. “This time,” she continued, “some of us decided losing our wings was worth our freedom. You’re in the Queendom of the Wingless Ones—the last free monkeys in Oz.” Iris puffed her chest proudly, and then her expression sank again. “But some of the monkeys don’t want to be free anymore. They think it’s better to side with Dorothy”—Iris spat the name out as if it were a curse—“and that Dorothy’s creepy sidekick the Scarecrow can make us new wings. They say Dorothy is on our side and wouldn’t make us her slaves again—as if! Even back when she first came to Oz all she did was make us fly her around like we were some kind of taxi service. But now that she’s returned, she’s downright evil.” Iris sighed. “The rebels have been causing all kinds of trouble in the queendom—sabotage, arson, waylaying supplies. Some of the poorest monkeys are going hungry. I know that human-loving—no offense—traitor Quentin is behind the rebels, and I can prove it, too—I’ve been tracking the queen’s accounts with a data management system I developed, and by comparing royal expenditures I can prove that Quentin is siphoning food and supplies from all our imports,” she said excitedly. “Only he’s the chancellor, and I’m just a lowly guard. I can’t say anything against him the queen will believe.”
“Not even with all your data?” Hex asked.
She sighed again. “No one else understands double-entry accounting. Unless you know what the data means, it’s all just a bunch of meaningless numbers. And—well, the queen is very wise, of course, but she doesn’t think my work is serious,” Iris said quietly. “No one does. They all think I’m just young and—and silly. I’m the only one of the monkeys who’s even interested in numbers, and I can’t make them see how important data management is.”
But you are young and silly, Hex thought. I wouldn’t take you seriously either, if I were the queen. Iris seemed to have a good heart, but she couldn’t possibly think her endless spreadsheets would have any impact on the queen’s decisions. She wasn’t even a particularly effective guard. Was he meant to stop Quentin? If so, how? “I don’t have any other proof,” Iris was saying, “and Quentin knows that I can’t do anything to stop him because no one will listen to me.” Her brown eyes filled with tears. “The monkeys are going to destroy themselves, and I can’t do a thing to stop it,” she sobbed. She was so distraught that Hex forgot a few moments ago she had been clamoring for his execution. He patted her awkwardly on the back, and she wept heavily into his shoulder.
“I just c-c-care so m-m-uch!” she wailed, her runny nose dripping onto his shirt. “I want the monkeys to b-b-be happy! The only way to end the unrest is to prove he’s at the heart of it. And I c-c-can’t do anything!”
“There, there,” Hex murmured, continuing to pat her gently as she erupted into damp, hiccupping sobs. “Why don’t we go to the queen in the morning, and you can convince her you’re right? I’m sure you can figure something out. You’re very clever.” But his mind was racing. Pete had said he was being tested—was that why he’d been brought here? And if it was, what was he supposed to do? Convince the monkeys to side with Dorothy? It was hard to take the monkeys seriously, but that Quentin had still seemed like a nasty piece of work. Iris snuffled and blew her nose on her sleeve.
“I should be Lulu’s adviser, not Quentin!” Iris hiccupped furiously. “He’s a traitor and a f-f-fraud! Do you really think I can convince the queen?” Her lower lip quavered and she looked dangerously close to bursting into tears again. Hex hastily handed her a banana.
“Of course,” he said firmly, though he had no idea. “You’ve already convinced me—and I’m a total stranger.” This made no sense at all, but seemed to reassure Iris.
“You’re right,” she said more confidently. “First thing in the morning. I’ll tell her! I’ll—”
Suddenly, another loud explosion went off in the distance. Hex and Iris hurried outside, peering over the balcony of the guest hut. Below them, a small, seething group of monkeys battled each other furiously on the forest floor, their fight lit by more su
nfruit. Monkeys in velvet suits that matched Iris’s—presumably the queen’s guard—carried prisoners, tightly wrapped in banana leaves, away from the battlefield, while more suited monkeys whacked the upstarts with bananas. “It all started with peaceful protests, but now we’re on the verge of all-out civil war,” Iris said, her eyes filling with tears again. “And it’s all Quentin’s fault! If he wasn’t spreading lies, they’d realize siding with Dorothy means death—or worse.” She sighed heavily. “It’s been a long day, and I can’t do anything until the morning. You might as well get some rest.”
Iris sat at the table again, apparently taking her guard duty seriously enough to watch over Hex as he slept. He tried to get comfortable on the swaying hammock, at last falling into a fitful sleep. A strange, sonorous noise woke him later in the night, and he sat up in confusion. Iris had fallen asleep on the table, her shoulders hunched in defeat, and the room echoed with her snores. Hex sighed and lay back in the hammock again, waiting for dawn.
SEVEN
The next morning, after a breakfast of (to Hex’s dismay) more oatmeal, Iris marched him briskly back to Lulu’s hut. Her velvet suit was rumpled, but otherwise she was back to being the cocky, confident monkey who had marched him up the endless stairs.
Iris burst through the palace door, shouting, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” Queen Lulu, startled, turned from where she had been giving terse instructions to a small group of nervous-looking monkeys dressed in battered armor and carrying monkey-sized swords. Behind the queen, Quentin leaned against the wall, his dark eyes glittering as he watched the scene. He looks like a monkey who just found himself a banana tree, Hex thought. Iris stopped short. “Your Majesty,” she whispered, “what are you doing? Monkeys have never used weapons on monkeys before now.”
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 79