The palace wasn’t in nearly as bad a shape as the Scarecrow had feared. Many of the servants had fled or been killed, but Jinjur had done little damage to the palace itself other than to paint STRAWBAG in huge, dripping red letters across each wall of the Scarecrow’s chambers. The servants who remained greeted Ozma with surprise that soon turned to delight.
He tried to ask one about dear Fiona, but didn’t get far. She had not seen her among the living, but she had not seen her among the dead either. Before he could investigate further, Glinda swept into the room.
“We have so much work to do!” Glinda exclaimed cheerfully. “Scare, why don’t you find some temporary chambers for Ozma. I’ll go down to the kitchens and see what we’ll need for the coronation banquet.” She looked down at her armor. “I’ll need chambers of my own, too, of course,” she said. “Make sure I have a large wardrobe.”
The Scarecrow wasn’t used to taking orders in his own palace, but there wasn’t any point in arguing something so trivial with the witch. If Glinda could bide her time, so could he. And perhaps he would spot his missing servant along the way.
“Come on, Your Majesty,” he said to the sleepy-eyed Ozma. “I know just the rooms for you.” Ozma yawned and followed him upstairs.
The Scarecrow put her in a set of unused rooms, luckily untouched by Jinjur’s soldiers, with a small balcony that overlooked the gardens. All the remaining servants were in the kitchen with Glinda, so he made up the bed himself and found Ozma a spare nightgown in one of the cupboards. It was still early evening, but the exhausted princess climbed into bed as soon as he turned down the covers. “Don’t go yet, Scarecrow,” Ozma murmured. “Won’t you stay and talk to me until I fall asleep?”
“Of course, Princess,” he said, sitting at the edge of her bed and taking her hand. Her skin felt hot and feverish.
“Too much magic,” she said. “It tires me out so. I didn’t know if I had it in me to defeat those girls!” She smiled weakly at him. And despite himself, he filed away that piece of knowledge. Her weakness seemed important somehow. He was struck by what a sweet little thing she was. No wonder Glinda’s plan was working so well. A part of him felt for her. She never asked for any of this. She had not chosen this life. She’d have been content in a cottage somewhere with a book. She was the definition of Good. But he couldn’t help feeling a dark thrill of elation. She knew nothing about his plans, or about what he and Glinda had in store for her. He’d been clever enough to fool a fairy—and the Queen of Oz. Of course, he’d only be helping her, not harming her. Even Glinda, cunning as she was, only had the good of Oz at heart. But more and more he found that he loved watching his plots unspool. This, he was sure, was what it meant to be truly clever.
“Tell me a story, Scare,” she asked. Her innocence and trust was an assault to his senses, and he had to gather himself before beginning.
“Once up on a time, there was a man made of straw. He was told when he was first created that he was only good for one thing: scaring away crows. And even that proved quite opposite. He dreamed of a better life . . . a bigger life, while tied to that stake. One filled with books and thoughts. One day a girl came along and took him down and introduced him to new friends. Friends for life. And they helped him obtain the thing he had most wished for. The man was never alone again. And he was free and he could think. And he lived happily ever after.”
“And I took your crown. The thing you most wished for?” she said apologetically. Almost as if she would give it back if he asked nicely.
“The crown was never something I wished for. I only ever wanted to have a brain. A brain is everything. And it is worth more than any crown. It is worth more than any magic,” he said truthfully.
If I use it right, it can do more than any wand or any crown or even any pair of magic shoes. If I use it right, I can take back what I lost today. If I use it right, I can take over all of Oz. . . .
“What are you thinking, dear Scarecrow?”
“I was thinking how brave you were today,” he replied untruthfully.
She yawned. “Do you really think so? Was I as brave as Dorothy?”
“Dorothy?” he asked, startled.
“You know, the Witchslayer. Dorothy who traveled through Oz with you and defeated the Wizard.”
He smiled to think of the little girl he’d once known, not so different from Ozma herself. “You were even braver, Princess.” But she was already fast asleep.
SEVENTEEN
The Lion and his beasts arrived in the Emerald City early the next morning. Lulu was dressed in her battle outfit, and the winged monkeys flew overhead in tight formation. Lulu brandished her pistol, firing shots into the air as she approached the palace as if she was issuing a challenge, but there was no one to meet her other than the Scarecrow and Glinda. She peered behind them suspiciously as the other monkeys settled on the ground, folding their wings and looking around them cautiously.
“It’s fine, we’ve defeated Jinjur,” the Scarecrow said. “She and all her soldiers are gone.”
“We?” Lulu barked, poking him in the chest. “You mean to say you had something to do with this?” She looked at him with new, grudging respect. “Not bad for a ball of straw,” she admitted. She stared at Glinda. “Who’s this frilly hussy?”
Glinda’s smile was frosty. “I am Glinda the Good Witch,” she said.
“Glinda’s just a legend,” Lulu sniffed, but she shook Glinda’s hand.
“You’re just very young,” Glinda said sweetly. “Anyway, we have even better news than Jinjur’s defeat,” she added, surreptitiously wiping the hand Lulu had touched on her dress. “The True Queen of Oz has returned from her long sojourn in the north, and she will be crowned in a few days’ time. Ozma, Princess of Oz, is among us once more!”
Several of the beasts gasped in surprise, and one of the monkeys flew several inches into the air. “Ozma is here?” Lulu said, her eyes wide. “Little baby Ozma?”
“Not such a baby anymore,” the Scarecrow told her.
Lulu shook her head. “She can’t see me,” she wailed, unexpectedly bursting into tears. “She’ll never forgive me for what I did, never!” The Scarecrow glanced at Glinda, but she clearly had no idea what Lulu was talking about either.
“I don’t know what you mean,” the Scarecrow said. The Lion and all of the beasts were leaning in with their ears pricked up. Lulu wiped her eyes, all her bravado gone.
“I stole her,” Lulu said dully. “Oh, that’s not how he put it, but that’s what I did. I stole her from her rightful place and raised her up ignorant. And then I left her all alone.” Lulu sobbed incoherently. “I—I’d do anything to see her except face the past. I can’t forgive myself for what I did either. I’m not r-ready. Maybe soon but now—I just can’t. Tell her—” The little monkey choked up. “No. Don’t tell her anything at all,” she managed. “Don’t even tell her we were here. Capisce?”
“But you’ll miss the coronation,” the Scarecrow said, utterly confused.
Lulu shook her head. “Not a problem,” she said gruffly, clearing her throat and blowing her nose noisily. “It does my heart good to know she’s back where she should be. That’s all I need.” She glanced back at the beasts. “What are you looking at?” she snapped. Immediately, the Lion busied himself washing behind his ears. Lulu flapped her wings, rising awkwardly off the ground. “I wish I could’ve seen her,” she said sadly. “Let’s get out of here, fellas.” The rest of the winged monkeys took off after her. None of them said good-bye.
Glinda watched the monkeys fly away, her expression thoughtful.
“Enough of this sitting around!” the Lion said. “Who did you say was in charge now? Is there going to be a feast?”
Glinda blinked. “A feast, yes!” she exclaimed. “A feast to celebrate the return and the coronation of our True Queen. Come inside, all of you, and make yourselves at home.”
“Is that the Lion I see! I’d know that mane anywhere!” someone shouted from the courtyard
.
“Tin!” the Scarecrow exclaimed. Their old friend was just approaching with a small delegation of Winkies, who milled around him and chattered excitedly. Scare ran up to the Woodman and shook his hand enthusiastically. A moment later, the Lion knocked them both over with the enthusiasm of his greeting. “Tin!” he roared, clapping them both on the back with his enormous paws. “Long time no see!” For a moment, Scare banished all thoughts of Glinda, Ozma, and the events of the day, and delighted in being reunited with his two friends.
The days until Ozma’s coronation passed quickly. Glinda kept the princess tucked away in her chambers, and she had little contact with the guests who streamed into the Emerald City, eager to catch sight of their new, rightful queen. The Scarecrow tried to see her several times, but each time he knocked Glinda came to the door and told him the princess was resting. He was suspicious, but he could wait until the coronation to find out what Glinda was up to. Instead, he and the Lion caught up with Tin, who was envious of all the excitement they’d been having.
“Battles!” Tin exclaimed wistfully. “I’ve never even seen a battle.”
“You’re not missing anything,” the Scarecrow told him. “It was awful, really.” He still hadn’t stopped thinking about the image of the Royal Army’s body trampled into the dirt. No, he could do without another battle, even if the rest of his life was as dull as a Munchkin wedding.
“What about your gift?” the Lion asked, changing the subject.
“My heart, you mean?” Tin thumped his chest. “Right as rain. I’m sure of it. The Wizard knew his stuff. What about you?”
“Oh, I’m very brave now,” the Lion said. But he didn’t sound so sure. The Scarecrow wondered if something had happened during the battle with Jinjur that caused the Lion to doubt himself, but he put that thought out of his mind. His gift was certainly working, and that was all that mattered.
At last it was time for Ozma’s coronation. The Scarecrow carefully washed his cloth body and the Woodman polished his tin plating to a blinding glow. Even the Lion brushed his luxurious coat and permitted the Woodman to tie a ribbon in his thick mane. They took their place among the other guests in the throne room of the Emerald Palace. It had been decorated beautifully for the occasion. Richly embroidered tapestries hung on the walls. The huge throne that dominated one end of the room had been studded with so many emeralds that it turned the light in the entire room green. Glittering pink streamers fluttered from the ceiling—Glinda’s touch, no doubt. A long red carpet stretched from the throne to the doors at the far end of the room. Everyone was craning their necks and looking around them, trying to get a glimpse of the mysterious princess.
Cornelius raised a trumpet to his lips and blew a dignified march. The throne room doors opened slowly of their own accord, revealing Ozma, with Glinda standing beside her. Everyone in the throne room gasped. Ozma was magnificent. Her long black hair hung in heavy ringlets to her waist. Her deep-green dress, studded with more emeralds, brought out the extraordinary, luminous green of her eyes. Her beautiful wings fluttered behind her, glowing with a soft green light. Even Glinda, decked to the nines in an enormous, tiered pink ball gown, her hair piled on top of her head in intricate knots, paled beside the princess—and from the expression on her face, she both knew it and wasn’t too happy about it. Glinda carried a delicate, wrought-gold crown on a green satin pillow. OZ was spelled out in beautiful golden script.
Cornelius set down his trumpet. “We welcome Ozma, the One True Queen of Oz!” he shouted. As Ozma took the first step onto the red carpet, the entire room erupted into spontaneous cheers. One sobbing Winkie clutched another, wailing, “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your life?” Wolves howled, crocodiles clacked their teeth together, and a fox ran halfway up one wall in excitement before falling back to the ground. The Lion roared in approval, and the Woodman joyfully clanged his chest with one tin fist. Winkies threw fistfuls of glitter, and Scraps the Patchwork girl cartwheeled around the room. Even Polychrome, Daughter of the Rainbow, had come all the way from the Rainbow Falls, dressed in a swirling—and transparent—ball gown of rainbow-flecked mist. The Tin Woodman stared at her svelte figure so intently that the Scarecrow had to knock him on the side of the head.
Step-by-step, Ozma crossed the room, pausing almost every few feet to hug a Munchkin or kiss the top of a furry head. Even the Scarecrow was moved, and found himself grateful he had no tear ducts with which to weep. Only Glinda, he noticed, looked less than rapturous.
At last, Ozma reached the throne, and she turned to face her new subjects. It took a long time for the cheering to die down, but finally the room was silent.
“My dear friends,” Ozma began. “I am so happy to be back among you, in the city where I belong. I promise to serve you well as your queen, and to be just and fair.” She paused, for a moment seeming almost uncertain. She might look every inch the queen, but it was still clear that she was just a young girl. “I promise to be the best queen I can,” she said finally. Glinda, seeing that Ozma’s speech was done, stepped forward with the crown and set it delicately on Ozma’s head.
Once again, the room burst into excited shouts and applause. Glitter confetti exploded from the ceiling, and huge mirrored balls descended from the rafters and turned slowly overhead. Trays of canapés and glasses of fizzgiggle floated through the crowd, carried by invisible hands. Ozians rushed the throne dais, hugging their new queen and congratulating her.
The Lion stood up on his hind legs and snatched an entire tray of bacon-wrapped shrimps out of the air, crunching it down in a few gulps. “I love parties!” he said through a mouthful of food. The Scarecrow, for once not irritated by his friend’s bad manners, laughed out loud. It was impossible to be angry or upset on an occasion like this. Everyone around him was overjoyed at the prospect of a new queen—and such a pretty one, too! Even he was excited, though he did feel a slight pang of loss as he watched Ozma settle into the throne that had so recently been his.
The celebration went on late into the night. The fizzgiggle never stopped flowing, and by midnight several Winkies were snoring loudly in the corners of the throne room. The Lion was dancing the limbo with an extremely tipsy Pixie. The Woodman kept trying to talk to him about timber management, and finally the Scarecrow excused himself to get some fresh air.
The palace gardens were cool and quiet. Crickets chirped contentedly in the grass. The Scarecrow settled himself against a tree with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head. In the distance, he could see the hedge maze that had nearly had to hide him during the battle with Jinjur. Maybe now he was clever enough to solve it. The thought was so delightful he took two steps in its direction before he was interrupted.
“I thought you’d never leave,” said a familiar sweet voice behind him. “We have much to discuss.”
EIGHTEEN
“Hi, Glinda,” the Scarecrow said. She was still wearing her ball gown, but outside the grandeur of the throne room it looked slightly ridiculous. Her hair had come out of its elaborate updo, and her habitual smile was rigid rather than genuine.
“We need to talk,” Glinda said, and there was no mistaking the edge in her voice. Away from public scrutiny, she was a different person. A meaner one, he couldn’t help thinking. Suddenly he was tired of the witch and her endless scheming.
“About what? Ozma is in place, just like you wanted. She trusts you, and she’ll listen to anything you tell her to do.”
Glinda didn’t even notice that he hadn’t bothered to include himself as part of her plan to control Ozma.
He knew now that she never had intended to. It should have hurt or made him angry but instead it made him think. Never again would he be tricked. Just like never again would he be tied to a post in a field. He could still almost feel the crows landing, one, two, three, four. Never, ever, ever . . .
He was only going to get better and smarter. Everything was a lesson. And every lesson was an opportunity. Even this one.
He didn’
t see any reason to pretend he hadn’t figured out she was only using him and had no intention of sharing power. Was she surprised he’d been clever enough to see through her act? She didn’t show it. She might be a liar, but Glinda was right about one thing. War meant casualties, and he could no longer be afraid to be ruthless. He’d have to learn fast—and learn on his own. He couldn’t trust anyone other than himself. He’d stay one step ahead of Glinda and anyone else who crossed him. Whatever it took, he’d be ready.
“She doesn’t listen to me as well as she should,” Glinda said tersely. “That business with pardoning Jinjur . . .” She shook her head. “The princess is too used to getting her own way. I think they spoiled her up there in Gillikin Country. She’ll listen to me for now, but this independent streak is troubling.”
“There’s not much you can do about it now,” the Scarecrow pointed out. “You’re the one who made her queen.”
“We could put you back in power,” Glinda mused, tapping her chin with one manicured finger.
“You think I’d be any more willing to take your orders than she would?” He laughed.
“Too much trouble,” she said, ignoring him. “They’re happy to have a new queen, and they wouldn’t stand for another switchup. The situation is too volatile right now. We need a stable ruler, at least for the time being. But there has to be a long-term solution.”
“I wish Dorothy was here,” the Scarecrow said suddenly. “Even if she didn’t know what to do, she was always so happy. Those were better times.” For a moment, he almost wished he was the old Scarecrow. Maybe he’d been stupid, but he’d also been happy and carefree.
“Well, obviously,” Glinda snapped, and then her eyes widened. “Oh, Scare!” she breathed, really looking at him for the first time. “Of course. It’s so clear; I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.” She grabbed his hands, and despite himself, a thrill ran through him. He was back in the game—and whatever he’d felt a moment ago, he couldn’t resist the excitement. “You’re absolutely brilliant.”
Dorothy Must Die Novella #5 Page 8