No Place Like Oz (8 page)

Eleven

We all breathed sighs of relief as the flying road began to make its descent back to the riverbank, and before we knew it, we were on land again. After that, it was only a matter of minutes before we were approaching the majestic emerald walls of the city.

Everyone was silent as we pulled up to the gates, which were intricately carved with twisting vines, gilded and studded with jewels. I noticed with some curiosity, though, that the gates were solid all the way through, and there was no obvious place for them to swing open, or even a mechanism for them to rise up. How were we going to get through?

The Saw-Horse answered my question by thumping his hoof, three times, loudly against the ground. As he did it, the entranceway rippled, and it began to melt away until it was just a smooth puddle on the ground, leaving an opening where it had just stood.

“What happened to the Guardian of the Gates?” I asked. “That funny little man who used to hand out the glasses?”

“Ozma reassigned him,” the Scarecrow explained. “That was just one of the Wizard's many idiosyncrasies. Now that he's gone, people are allowed to see clearly again. The city's green enough without the glasses anyway. Ozma installed quite a bit more emerald once she took over, and anyway, she doesn't believe in guarding the gates at all.” He sniffed at what he obviously considered to be a preposterous flight of girlish fancy. “‘It's everyone's city,' she says. ‘Why would I want to keep anyone out of it?' The former guardian works as an optometrist now, and I'm told he's quite happy. Most people in Oz have perfect vision, so he leads a very relaxed lifestyle.”

I looked over my shoulder as the Saw-Horse trotted us into the city, and as soon as we had cleared the opening in the wall, the gate sprung right back up and re-formed itself, closing behind us.

As we made our way through the city streets, I took in the sights. Little round houses were arranged in clusters around open plazas with burbling fountains and vibrant gardens where townspeople chattered amongst themselves. The smell of baking pies and fresh flowers filled my nose.

It was strange to be back in this city that I had so many memories of. It was both the same and different. For one thing, it really
was
green now, just like the Scarecrow said. From the funny little domed buildings whose roofs were reinforced with giant, smooth-polished emeralds the size of dinner plates to the towering skyscrapers that somehow seemed to be formed entirely of huge, seamless jewels, every surface in sight managed to incorporate the city's signature gemstone in one way or another. Even the yellow bricks of the road weren't immune to the treatment: the road hadn't ended at the gates, but instead continued on into the city, toward the palace, and each and every individual brick was inlaid with a single emerald at the center.

I think I liked them better when they were just plain yellow. Ironically, it was only now that the Guardian of the Gates was gone that I actually could have
used
some glasses—not to create the illusion of opulence but to shield my eyes from the glare.

At an open market, Munchkins and Winkies peddled produce and clothes and trinkets to laughing townspeople. There was a snake charmer, like in storybooks I'd read, and a sword swallower and a team of acrobats who flipped and twirled in the air as if they were propelled by an unseen force.

Everyone was smiling and laughing, milling around without a care in the world. A sense of liveliness permeated everything and everyone.

And yet I couldn't help feeling uneasy.

It was all too happy. Nothing was this perfect, not even Oz.

My shoes sent a now-familiar pulse of energy up my legs, and as I looked back out at the bustling city, the cheerful scene suddenly seemed sinister: the smiles of the people turned to leers and the candy-bright colors took on a garish, desperate tint.

Glinda was gone, I reminded myself, off somewhere no one seemed to know about.

Something wasn't right here.

 

Our carriage finally ground to a halt where the yellow brick opened up into a large, circular courtyard outside the palace entrance. Toto was the first out, followed by the Scarecrow. I clambered out after him, then helped Aunt Em and Uncle Henry down. The air was still and there was a lovely sound of water burbling in fountains. In the distance, I could hear singing.

The plaza was an explosion of azaleas that blossomed in a rainbow of colors: they were pink and purple and blue, but also striped and polka-dotted and paisley-patterned. A large marble fountain shot a waterfall of what looked like liquid diamonds high into the air.

Aunt Em trailed her fingers through the pool, then held them up in front of her and watched them glitter in the sun.

“I don't suppose your friend Ozma would mind if we took a few of her jewels back to Kansas, would she?” my aunt asked me with a twinkle in her eye. “They have so many of them here and just one of the big ones would pay for a year's worth of chicken feed and pig slop.”

I groaned. “First of all,” I snapped, “Ozma isn't my friend. I've never even met her before. Secondly, I don't want to hear another word of Kansas talk. Not while we're standing outside the royal palace in the most beautiful city in the universe.”

Aunt Em crossed her arms at her chest. She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “My word, Dorothy. You've certainly lost your sense of humor lately. Of course I'm not going to steal from our hosts. And if I
was
going to, it wouldn't be to buy pig slop. I'd make myself a beautiful necklace with diamonds so big it would scandalize all of Topeka.”

Only then did I realize she had been teasing me. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I just—”

“See here, Dorothy,” she said. “I know your uncle doesn't approve of staying here just as well as I know that you don't want to ever go home if you can help it. Myself, I can see both sides of it. This
is
a lovely country—not counting those terrible trees—but our whole life is back on the farm.”

“We could have a new life
here.
A better life.”

“We
could
,” she agreed. “But would it really be so much better? What would we do all day, with no cows to milk or fences to mend? We'd go stir-crazy before long.”

I shook my head emphatically. “There's so much to do here,” I said. “You've hardly seen any of it.”

“Maybe,” Aunt Em said with a shrug. “And maybe it wouldn't matter. At any rate, I say we're here now, and we might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“I
am
enjoying myself,” I said.

“It seems to me that you're awfully sour for someone who's having the time of her life,” Aunt Em said.

I was trying to decide how to respond to that when the enormous doors of the palace swung open and a small, delicate figure came hurtling down the grand, emerald-studded steps. She raced toward me, her diaphanous white dress and dark, wavy hair flowing behind her, all tangled together in a whirling cloud.

“Dorothy!” she shouted. “It's really you! I've been waiting for this day forever!”

She bounded across the courtyard and threw her arms around my neck, pulling me against her in a tight embrace before stepping back and giving me a warm, searching smile.

It wasn't the greeting I'd been expecting. When I'd sought out an audience with the Wizard, in this very palace, it had been an arduous, hours-long process of being patted down by guards, standing in endless lines, and waiting in antechamber after antechamber before finally being allowed ten minutes alone with Oz's supposed ruler.

Ozma, apparently, was less formal than all that.

Her eyes were a vivid, haunting green, lined with kohl and shadowed with gold, and they had a kindness behind them that took me by surprise. Her mouth was a ruby-red exclamation point in the center of her round, pale face. She was tiny, too: the top of her head barely reached my shoulders.

She wore a tall, golden crown with the word
Oz
inscribed on it, and had two big red poppies tied into her hair, one on either side of her face, fastened with long green ribbons. She had a golden scepter tucked under her arm as casually as a normal person would carry an umbrella.

“I can't believe I'm finally meeting you,” she said. “I was so excited when I heard from the Munchkins that you had come back. The famous Dorothy Gale. The Witchslayer! I suppose I owe you a thank-you for saving my kingdom.”

“Anyone would have done the same,” I said, waving the praise away. I stole a quick glance over at my aunt and uncle and saw that Uncle Henry had his arm around Aunt Em and was pointing out various buildings in the distance.

“Are these your parents?” the princess asked, gesturing at them with her scepter, which I now saw was topped with the same insignia that was on her crown: a gold
O
the size of my palm that enclosed a smaller, stylized
Z
.

“Oh no,” I said. “This is my aunt Em and uncle Henry. I live with them, back in . . .”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh yes! Kansas! It sounds like such a fantastic place. They say the roads there are made of dust! Or was it dirt?”

“Well . . . ,” I said, “both?” I couldn't imagine being excited by dirt roads considering the opulence that was all around us here, but Ozma was already rushing over to Aunt Em and Uncle Henry. For their part, they seemed to be adjusting to the idea of meeting royalty. They wore the same friendly expressions that they used for greeting a neighbor's out-of-town cousin at the church breakfast.

Ozma leaned down and patted Toto on the head. He was so happy to be back that he was running in circles. “And this is little Tutu?”

He snarled at her. Toto didn't like it when people got his name wrong.

“Toto,” I corrected quickly.

“Of course!” she said. “How silly of me. I guess I owe him my thanks as well.” She knelt down and scruffed his fur, and while he bristled at first, soon he was happily licking her hand.

The princess turned her attention back to Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.

“We have rooms for all of you, and the finest clothes in the city,” she said. “I want you to know that, for as long as you're here, you can make full use of everything in the palace. My servants are yours to command.”

“That won't be necessary,” Uncle Henry said hesitantly. “We're not planning on staying long
.
”

Ozma tilted her head in concern. “Oh?”

“Uncle Henry . . . ,” I started. “We only just got here.”

“We need to get home,” Aunt Em explained apologetically to Ozma. “You have a beautiful kingdom, but we're not the magical types. We have a farm back home, you see, and responsibilities.”

Ozma waved her scepter with an air of dismissal. “Of course! I've heard such things about Kansas; I don't doubt that you're eager to get back there. But I've waited so long to meet Dorothy; surely you can stay for a
bit
.”

Ozma called out: “Jellia! Show the Gales to their quarters, please. And please make sure their every need is attended to.”

Before they could protest, a round, cheery-faced maid with blonde hair and a green uniform emerged from the main building and led Aunt Em and Uncle Henry up the stairs inside. They glanced back at me over their shoulders as they stepped through the entrance, a look of trepidation on their faces. “Toto,” I said, feeling almost guilty when I saw how out of their element they looked. “Why don't you keep them company?” With a sharp bark, he went bounding after them.

Ozma moved her attention to the Scarecrow, who hadn't said a word since we'd arrived. “I'm so pleased you came today,” she said. “There's a delegation here from Gillikin Country and I could really use someone with brains in the room when it comes to dealing with them.”

She looked at me with an air of wry conspiracy. “Keeping everyone in Oz happy is no small feat,” she said. “Every day there's a new visitor with a new list of requests. Easily met, most of them, but you have no idea how dull it can be, sitting in those meetings.”

The Scarecrow bowed. “I am at your service, Princess.”

“Oh, stop that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know bowing makes me uncomfortable.”

“Of course,” he said.

“The delegation is in the reception room,” Ozma said. “They shouldn't give you too much trouble, but you know how the Gillikins are—always bickering amongst themselves and forgetting what they even want in the first place. It could take some time.”

“Well, then it's a good thing I don't require sleep.” The Scarecrow leaned in to give me a peck on the cheek, and as he did, he whispered: “Remember. Be careful. And not a word about the shoes.”

As I watched him go, Ozma grabbed me by the elbow. “Come inside the castle. Let me show you what I've done.”

The main hall of the palace was magnificent, but there was a surprising coziness to it, too—you could tell someone actually lived here. Ozma had lined the walls with damask wallpaper, and filled the space with plush velvet couches overflowing with throw pillows and ornate end tables and carved oak chairs upholstered in leather. From the diamond-shaped black-and-white tiles on the floor to the crystal chandeliers to the lush, exotic-looking plants sprouting from every corner of the room, it felt stately and elegant but warm and welcoming, too.

“What do you think?” Ozma asked, almost nervously, as we walked past a dramatic, sweeping staircase. It almost felt like she wanted me to be impressed.

I was a bit surprised that she seemed to care so much about my opinion—she was the princess after all, a descendant of the fairy Lurline, supposedly, and the heir to the greatest kingdom in the world. I was just an ordinary farm girl from dusty, gray Kansas. What did I know about interior decoration?

“It's very nice,” I said, as if I saw beautiful, grand things all the time and this was just another one of them. “You've made it so much nicer than when the Wizard lived here.”