The End of Oz
Page 20
And like before, it was as if I could see my magic through a thick, dense wall of Jell-O. I couldn’t reach it. I couldn’t feel it. But I knew it was there.
But I didn’t have what I needed to reach it. Come on, Lurline, I thought. Show me what to do. Please.
And then Nox reached forward and took my hand. I felt something stir to life within me at his touch. Not magic, exactly—something else. Trust. Love. Safety.
Home, I thought. Nox is home. And with that one word, the wall between me and my power began to dissolve. Lurline, I said. Help me.
I didn’t know whether I spoke the words out loud or in my heart. But as I said them, they took shape in front of me. A door began to form in my mind—and somehow, I knew that asking Lurline for help had made it appear. I squeezed my eyes shut more tightly. Still holding Nox’s hand, I stepped through the portal I’d created.
And then, without warning, I began to fall.
NINE
DOROTHY
I did my best to get Bupu to dress herself for dinner, but at the very suggestion she recoiled in horror. At first I thought she was offended because the dress was so ill-fitting—I’d have beheaded any of my chambermaids in Oz who suggested such a thing—but then I realized she was absolutely terrified at the prospect of attending the dinner herself. When I pressed her further, she cowered on the floor of my bedroom. “They’ll kill me! They’ll roast me and eat me alive!”
“They certainly won’t,” I said, although I wasn’t at all sure. I would probably be tempted to do the same on a relentless diet of the awful stuff I’d had for breakfast. “Bupu, it wouldn’t be proper for me to attend the banquet without a handmaiden. Besides,” I added, hit with a flash of inspiration, “I have a job for you.”
She looked up at me, her eyes brimming over with tears. “A job? For me? Other than the one I already have?”
“Yes, dear,” I said, waving a hand regally. “You spend a lot of time out and about in the palace, correct?”
“I had many tasks before I came into your service, mistress,” she said uncertainly.
“And so no one would notice if you were to, say, wander around a little when we are released from this chamber for the banquet?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, still confused.
I sighed, reminding myself to be patient. It’s just not reasonable to expect everyone to be as quick on the uptake as I am, other than Scare. And you can’t expect anything from him anymore, because he’s dead, thanks to that bitch Amy Gumm. I mean, I suppose technically I killed him, but she ruined him so that I had no choice. Oh, how I missed Scare! He was a little creepy, sure, and I have to admit some of his experiments were a bit—well, I wouldn’t say out of hand, exactly, but maybe a touch over the top. But he’d always been there for me. Mostly. He’d certainly had the same goals I did. And he’d been so clever. He knew practically everything about the history of Oz. He’d been with me from the very beginning—from before he’d even had a brain. He’d made me laugh back then, and once the Wizard had given him his gift, he’d helped me make myself into the woman I am now.
But Scare was dead, I reminded myself firmly. In the end, even he had failed me.
The truth was, at this point, Bupu was all I had.
“So if you were to overhear certain . . . conversations,” I continued. “Related to your mistress’s future in the palace? Just like you found out about the Nome King’s plans to marry me?”
At last comprehension dawned in her foggy little eyes, and she drew herself up with an expression of pride that was quite comical but also carried enough dignity that I restrained my snicker.
“I go many places,” she said, nodding vigorously. “I stay away from the Diggers and the other servants. No one thinks I hear anything. They think I’m just an idiot slave. I know lots about what’s going on.” She beamed with pride. “The palace servants say many things around me,” she added, waggling her eyebrows at me for emphasis.
“Then you must attend the banquet with me,” I said. “I want you to listen to everything everyone is saying. Everyone I can’t hear. And I want you to remember all of it. Is that clear?”
“No one has ever trusted me with an important mission before, mistress,” she whispered, her eyes wide with awe at the enormity of the responsibility before her.
“Very good, Bupu,” I said. She looked like she was about to literally jump with joy. I cleared my throat and she froze, halfway between a leap and a lurch.
Privately, I had my doubts as to whether Bupu would come up with anything resembling valuable information—assuming she didn’t get herself killed trying to spy at the Nome King’s banquet, which, I had to admit, was a distinct possibility. But she was better than nothing. Plus, having an important secret mission put a real snap in her step. She bustled around my chamber, fluffing pillows, straightening dresses, and hmmm-hmmming imperiously. “Out, dust, out!” she muttered, flicking at an invisible speck on the bedcovers. And finally, at my direction, she consented to swap out her dumpy, shabby sack dress for a—well, a velvet dress several sizes too big for her that still looked rather sack-like. At least it was a formal sack. I told her she looked every bit of an Oz Munchkin. She twirled around at my compliment and I felt something like pride. It was probably the first thing I’d done for someone else since I landed in Oz. Aside from spreading Happiness, of course.
And when more of the Nome King’s servants came to fetch us, she was ready and waiting. These servants were Munchkins, like Bupu, but they were seriously bitchy Munchkins. They wouldn’t even look at the poor creature. She did her best to pretend their obvious derision had no effect on her. But I wondered privately if I should point out to the Nome King that he’d clearly bestowed his second-best Munchkin on me—and I wasn’t used to inferior quality, let alone being insulted.
Bupu was sweet, though. Maybe he’d thought I’d be won over by her personality.
The Nome King’s liveried Munchkins—who were even paler than Bupu—led us down a maze of stone tunnels lit with sconces filled with dimly glowing lumps of some kind of crystal. As we turned down corridor after corridor, I tried to keep track of the direction, but I soon lost count of all the turns we made. I wondered if they were trying to get me lost on purpose, as if to keep me completely dependent on the Nome King. Even Bupu looked a little confused after a while.
Plus, I couldn’t help but notice how many of his servants the Nome King had sent to fetch me. There were eight of them. And some of them had lumpy shapes under their uniforms that looked distinctly like weapons. Their paste-white skin was crisscrossed with ugly scars and several of them were missing fingers or pieces of their ears, as if they were seasoned fighters who’d seen more than a few battles.
They weren’t household servants at all. They were soldiers.
I wasn’t being escorted, I realized. I was being guarded.
That, combined with my locked bedroom door, added up to an answer I didn’t like at all.
It was becoming increasingly clear that whether I cooperated with him or not, the Nome King was determined I obey his will.
You probably don’t need me to tell you there’s only one will for my way.
But I didn’t have what I needed to reach it. Come on, Lurline, I thought. Show me what to do. Please.
And then Nox reached forward and took my hand. I felt something stir to life within me at his touch. Not magic, exactly—something else. Trust. Love. Safety.
Home, I thought. Nox is home. And with that one word, the wall between me and my power began to dissolve. Lurline, I said. Help me.
I didn’t know whether I spoke the words out loud or in my heart. But as I said them, they took shape in front of me. A door began to form in my mind—and somehow, I knew that asking Lurline for help had made it appear. I squeezed my eyes shut more tightly. Still holding Nox’s hand, I stepped through the portal I’d created.
And then, without warning, I began to fall.
NINE
DOROTHY
I did my best to get Bupu to dress herself for dinner, but at the very suggestion she recoiled in horror. At first I thought she was offended because the dress was so ill-fitting—I’d have beheaded any of my chambermaids in Oz who suggested such a thing—but then I realized she was absolutely terrified at the prospect of attending the dinner herself. When I pressed her further, she cowered on the floor of my bedroom. “They’ll kill me! They’ll roast me and eat me alive!”
“They certainly won’t,” I said, although I wasn’t at all sure. I would probably be tempted to do the same on a relentless diet of the awful stuff I’d had for breakfast. “Bupu, it wouldn’t be proper for me to attend the banquet without a handmaiden. Besides,” I added, hit with a flash of inspiration, “I have a job for you.”
She looked up at me, her eyes brimming over with tears. “A job? For me? Other than the one I already have?”
“Yes, dear,” I said, waving a hand regally. “You spend a lot of time out and about in the palace, correct?”
“I had many tasks before I came into your service, mistress,” she said uncertainly.
“And so no one would notice if you were to, say, wander around a little when we are released from this chamber for the banquet?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, still confused.
I sighed, reminding myself to be patient. It’s just not reasonable to expect everyone to be as quick on the uptake as I am, other than Scare. And you can’t expect anything from him anymore, because he’s dead, thanks to that bitch Amy Gumm. I mean, I suppose technically I killed him, but she ruined him so that I had no choice. Oh, how I missed Scare! He was a little creepy, sure, and I have to admit some of his experiments were a bit—well, I wouldn’t say out of hand, exactly, but maybe a touch over the top. But he’d always been there for me. Mostly. He’d certainly had the same goals I did. And he’d been so clever. He knew practically everything about the history of Oz. He’d been with me from the very beginning—from before he’d even had a brain. He’d made me laugh back then, and once the Wizard had given him his gift, he’d helped me make myself into the woman I am now.
But Scare was dead, I reminded myself firmly. In the end, even he had failed me.
The truth was, at this point, Bupu was all I had.
“So if you were to overhear certain . . . conversations,” I continued. “Related to your mistress’s future in the palace? Just like you found out about the Nome King’s plans to marry me?”
At last comprehension dawned in her foggy little eyes, and she drew herself up with an expression of pride that was quite comical but also carried enough dignity that I restrained my snicker.
“I go many places,” she said, nodding vigorously. “I stay away from the Diggers and the other servants. No one thinks I hear anything. They think I’m just an idiot slave. I know lots about what’s going on.” She beamed with pride. “The palace servants say many things around me,” she added, waggling her eyebrows at me for emphasis.
“Then you must attend the banquet with me,” I said. “I want you to listen to everything everyone is saying. Everyone I can’t hear. And I want you to remember all of it. Is that clear?”
“No one has ever trusted me with an important mission before, mistress,” she whispered, her eyes wide with awe at the enormity of the responsibility before her.
“Very good, Bupu,” I said. She looked like she was about to literally jump with joy. I cleared my throat and she froze, halfway between a leap and a lurch.
Privately, I had my doubts as to whether Bupu would come up with anything resembling valuable information—assuming she didn’t get herself killed trying to spy at the Nome King’s banquet, which, I had to admit, was a distinct possibility. But she was better than nothing. Plus, having an important secret mission put a real snap in her step. She bustled around my chamber, fluffing pillows, straightening dresses, and hmmm-hmmming imperiously. “Out, dust, out!” she muttered, flicking at an invisible speck on the bedcovers. And finally, at my direction, she consented to swap out her dumpy, shabby sack dress for a—well, a velvet dress several sizes too big for her that still looked rather sack-like. At least it was a formal sack. I told her she looked every bit of an Oz Munchkin. She twirled around at my compliment and I felt something like pride. It was probably the first thing I’d done for someone else since I landed in Oz. Aside from spreading Happiness, of course.
And when more of the Nome King’s servants came to fetch us, she was ready and waiting. These servants were Munchkins, like Bupu, but they were seriously bitchy Munchkins. They wouldn’t even look at the poor creature. She did her best to pretend their obvious derision had no effect on her. But I wondered privately if I should point out to the Nome King that he’d clearly bestowed his second-best Munchkin on me—and I wasn’t used to inferior quality, let alone being insulted.
Bupu was sweet, though. Maybe he’d thought I’d be won over by her personality.
The Nome King’s liveried Munchkins—who were even paler than Bupu—led us down a maze of stone tunnels lit with sconces filled with dimly glowing lumps of some kind of crystal. As we turned down corridor after corridor, I tried to keep track of the direction, but I soon lost count of all the turns we made. I wondered if they were trying to get me lost on purpose, as if to keep me completely dependent on the Nome King. Even Bupu looked a little confused after a while.
Plus, I couldn’t help but notice how many of his servants the Nome King had sent to fetch me. There were eight of them. And some of them had lumpy shapes under their uniforms that looked distinctly like weapons. Their paste-white skin was crisscrossed with ugly scars and several of them were missing fingers or pieces of their ears, as if they were seasoned fighters who’d seen more than a few battles.
They weren’t household servants at all. They were soldiers.
I wasn’t being escorted, I realized. I was being guarded.
That, combined with my locked bedroom door, added up to an answer I didn’t like at all.
It was becoming increasingly clear that whether I cooperated with him or not, the Nome King was determined I obey his will.
You probably don’t need me to tell you there’s only one will for my way.
