The End of Oz
Page 21
And it’s mine.
Privately, I was seething. Who did the Nome King think he was? He might be the ruler of Ev. But I was Dorothy the Witchslayer. And I was not going to be treated like a prisoner. But I smiled like the queen I was. I might be at a disadvantage now, but I certainly wasn’t going to give in. I could still find a way to get what I wanted out of this situation. I knew I was up to manipulating the Nome King.
And like I said, I was thrilled by the challenge. I’d gotten a lot done in Oz. But I’d never won over a centuries-old despot who thought I was his prisoner. I was starting to feel positively alive again.
Finally, the Munchkins pushed open a heavy, ornately carved wooden door, revealing a cavern whose ceiling was easily twice the height of my chambers. The banquet hall was beautifully lit with elaborate candelabra that sprouted from the stone walls like branches.
Much to my surprise, dinner at the Nome King’s wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t what I was used to in Oz, of course—not at the Emerald Palace, anyway, where the parties I’d thrown had been absolutely legendary. Whoever had set the table didn’t know the difference between a salad fork and a dessert spoon. But at least everyone had dressed up. Velvet seemed to be the fabric du jour in Ev, closely followed by satin, brocade, and a few outfits that looked as though their wearers had basically dressed themselves in tapestries.
The company was exceptionally dreary. In addition to more Munchkin servants, there were a few other pale, lean creatures who resembled the Nome King—his kindred, perhaps?—and about thirty non-Munchkin soldiers. These must have been the Diggers that had so terrified Bupu, and looking at them more closely over the mushroom terrine, I could see why. They weren’t dressed nicely at all. But that had nothing to do with why they were terrifying.
They were lean and muscular and pale as bread mold, dressed in armor pieced together from plates of metal and hardened leather. Most of them had sinister black tattoos crawling up their arms, or were missing fingers or eyes—or, in one case, a chunk of an ear, so that what was left was just a misshapen lump of scar tissue clinging to the side of his head.
Most of them were hairless, but one or two had thin strands scraped together into braids interwoven with bits of leather and bone. I was awfully miffed that they hadn’t even bothered to dress up. If Bupu’s information was accurate, the Nome King was planning on proposing marriage over the dessert course. Surely that deserved a little more ceremony?
After all, I’d done my absolute best with very little. I still looked every bit the desirable future queen of two kingdoms. Bupu turned out to be as hopeless at hairstyling as she was at everything else, but I’d at least insisted she give my hair the hundred strokes—not a stroke more or less—it deserved. (I’d had to teach her to count, too, bless her heart.) I’d found the best-fitting of the dresses the Nome King had left me and, while there was nothing I could do about the ridiculously outdated style or dreadful color, I’d repurposed a part of one of the wall hangings as an impromptu sash, cinching it tightly to show off my tiny waist and extremely admirable figure. I was, without a doubt, the prettiest girl who’d graced the Nome King’s tables in their history, although from the look of things that wasn’t an especially high bar.
More Munchkins carried in silver platters of food. Some things looked familiar, but others were totally foreign.
A self-important-looking Munchkin, visibly healthier than the others, was ordering the rest about in a curt manner. She had a green velvet bow perched at a drunken angle on her bald head and she wore a ring of keys around her neck. I perked up. That must be Esmerelda, I thought. And maybe, just maybe, one of those keys unlocked the door to my room.
Maybe I didn’t need to win the Nome King’s favor to escape after all. Maybe I just needed a plan and a little help from Bupu.
One of the little Munchkins offered me a bowl of what looked like strange, glowing roots, but as I reached for the serving fork they began to slither about like worms.
“No thank you,” I said quickly, putting the fork back. I caught the Nome King smiling with amusement at my distress, but he dropped the smirk as soon as he saw me looking at him. I picked daintily at a crust of bread—which, although a bit on the dry side, was at least recognizable as food—and helped myself to the wine.
At least they got that right in Ev.
I glanced down during the final course—some kind of spiky thing that looked distressingly like a pile of beetles in a brown sauce, which I only pretended to eat—at where Bupu had been huddled at the foot of my chair. She was gone. Much to my surprise, I hadn’t even noticed her leave. Next to me one of the Diggers roared in delight and stabbed its—his?—taloned fingers into the bowl of beetle-like things in front of him. They emitted a squeaking noise and began to run across the table in terror. I swallowed hard and smiled hugely, trying to hide my revulsion. Casually, I glanced around the room, but Bupu was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe Bupu was going to make a better spy than I thought.
Had the little creature tried to escape? Surely not. She’d only been with me for a few hours but she seemed loyal enough.
Abruptly, the Nome King set down his fork with a thunk and stood. Everyone immediately stopped eating.
“My dear guests,” he began, “thank you for attending this banquet honoring the rightful ruler of Oz, the beautiful and powerful Dorothy Gale.” I smiled demurely at my plate, where several sets of legs waved at me. “She has graciously agreed to honor our realm with her most esteemed presence.” I smiled even more brightly at the assembled guests. The Diggers looked at me blankly. When I’m running the show again you’ll show me the respect I deserve, I thought, gritting my teeth and grinning like a beauty pageant contestant facing the worst panel of judges in the world.
“In fact,” the Nome King continued, “I have been so struck by her beauty and nobility, that for the first time in several hundred years or so, my heart has been moved by her queenliness.”
Well. I knew he was lying, of course. He had some sinister plan to take over Oz and he needed me to do it. But what girl couldn’t help but be swayed, just a bit, by the most powerful person in two kingdoms proclaiming her superiority? Of course, the fact that he had taken away my magic somehow undercut the compliment. I snuck a glance up at him.
And to my surprise, he was looking at me. And the expression on his face was—
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was almost telling the truth. My heart skipped unexpectedly.
Was it possible that the Nome King had feelings for me in spite of myself? And if so, could I use that to my advantage?
I ignored the nagging little voice at the back of my head. The one that suggested that maybe, just maybe, I was feeling an answering spark. He wasn’t what I would call traditionally handsome. He wasn’t young. He wasn’t particularly nice.
But he was powerful. Incredibly powerful. And power is something I’ve never been able to resist.
I fluttered my eyelashes at him and he blinked. I’d startled him, I saw with a flash of pleasure. For just a moment, I had the advantage.
And I loved it.
“It has occurred to me,” he continued hurriedly, trying not to let me see I’d caught him off guard, “that there is one truly perfect way to join our two kingdoms.”
Privately, I was seething. Who did the Nome King think he was? He might be the ruler of Ev. But I was Dorothy the Witchslayer. And I was not going to be treated like a prisoner. But I smiled like the queen I was. I might be at a disadvantage now, but I certainly wasn’t going to give in. I could still find a way to get what I wanted out of this situation. I knew I was up to manipulating the Nome King.
And like I said, I was thrilled by the challenge. I’d gotten a lot done in Oz. But I’d never won over a centuries-old despot who thought I was his prisoner. I was starting to feel positively alive again.
Finally, the Munchkins pushed open a heavy, ornately carved wooden door, revealing a cavern whose ceiling was easily twice the height of my chambers. The banquet hall was beautifully lit with elaborate candelabra that sprouted from the stone walls like branches.
Much to my surprise, dinner at the Nome King’s wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t what I was used to in Oz, of course—not at the Emerald Palace, anyway, where the parties I’d thrown had been absolutely legendary. Whoever had set the table didn’t know the difference between a salad fork and a dessert spoon. But at least everyone had dressed up. Velvet seemed to be the fabric du jour in Ev, closely followed by satin, brocade, and a few outfits that looked as though their wearers had basically dressed themselves in tapestries.
The company was exceptionally dreary. In addition to more Munchkin servants, there were a few other pale, lean creatures who resembled the Nome King—his kindred, perhaps?—and about thirty non-Munchkin soldiers. These must have been the Diggers that had so terrified Bupu, and looking at them more closely over the mushroom terrine, I could see why. They weren’t dressed nicely at all. But that had nothing to do with why they were terrifying.
They were lean and muscular and pale as bread mold, dressed in armor pieced together from plates of metal and hardened leather. Most of them had sinister black tattoos crawling up their arms, or were missing fingers or eyes—or, in one case, a chunk of an ear, so that what was left was just a misshapen lump of scar tissue clinging to the side of his head.
Most of them were hairless, but one or two had thin strands scraped together into braids interwoven with bits of leather and bone. I was awfully miffed that they hadn’t even bothered to dress up. If Bupu’s information was accurate, the Nome King was planning on proposing marriage over the dessert course. Surely that deserved a little more ceremony?
After all, I’d done my absolute best with very little. I still looked every bit the desirable future queen of two kingdoms. Bupu turned out to be as hopeless at hairstyling as she was at everything else, but I’d at least insisted she give my hair the hundred strokes—not a stroke more or less—it deserved. (I’d had to teach her to count, too, bless her heart.) I’d found the best-fitting of the dresses the Nome King had left me and, while there was nothing I could do about the ridiculously outdated style or dreadful color, I’d repurposed a part of one of the wall hangings as an impromptu sash, cinching it tightly to show off my tiny waist and extremely admirable figure. I was, without a doubt, the prettiest girl who’d graced the Nome King’s tables in their history, although from the look of things that wasn’t an especially high bar.
More Munchkins carried in silver platters of food. Some things looked familiar, but others were totally foreign.
A self-important-looking Munchkin, visibly healthier than the others, was ordering the rest about in a curt manner. She had a green velvet bow perched at a drunken angle on her bald head and she wore a ring of keys around her neck. I perked up. That must be Esmerelda, I thought. And maybe, just maybe, one of those keys unlocked the door to my room.
Maybe I didn’t need to win the Nome King’s favor to escape after all. Maybe I just needed a plan and a little help from Bupu.
One of the little Munchkins offered me a bowl of what looked like strange, glowing roots, but as I reached for the serving fork they began to slither about like worms.
“No thank you,” I said quickly, putting the fork back. I caught the Nome King smiling with amusement at my distress, but he dropped the smirk as soon as he saw me looking at him. I picked daintily at a crust of bread—which, although a bit on the dry side, was at least recognizable as food—and helped myself to the wine.
At least they got that right in Ev.
I glanced down during the final course—some kind of spiky thing that looked distressingly like a pile of beetles in a brown sauce, which I only pretended to eat—at where Bupu had been huddled at the foot of my chair. She was gone. Much to my surprise, I hadn’t even noticed her leave. Next to me one of the Diggers roared in delight and stabbed its—his?—taloned fingers into the bowl of beetle-like things in front of him. They emitted a squeaking noise and began to run across the table in terror. I swallowed hard and smiled hugely, trying to hide my revulsion. Casually, I glanced around the room, but Bupu was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe Bupu was going to make a better spy than I thought.
Had the little creature tried to escape? Surely not. She’d only been with me for a few hours but she seemed loyal enough.
Abruptly, the Nome King set down his fork with a thunk and stood. Everyone immediately stopped eating.
“My dear guests,” he began, “thank you for attending this banquet honoring the rightful ruler of Oz, the beautiful and powerful Dorothy Gale.” I smiled demurely at my plate, where several sets of legs waved at me. “She has graciously agreed to honor our realm with her most esteemed presence.” I smiled even more brightly at the assembled guests. The Diggers looked at me blankly. When I’m running the show again you’ll show me the respect I deserve, I thought, gritting my teeth and grinning like a beauty pageant contestant facing the worst panel of judges in the world.
“In fact,” the Nome King continued, “I have been so struck by her beauty and nobility, that for the first time in several hundred years or so, my heart has been moved by her queenliness.”
Well. I knew he was lying, of course. He had some sinister plan to take over Oz and he needed me to do it. But what girl couldn’t help but be swayed, just a bit, by the most powerful person in two kingdoms proclaiming her superiority? Of course, the fact that he had taken away my magic somehow undercut the compliment. I snuck a glance up at him.
And to my surprise, he was looking at me. And the expression on his face was—
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was almost telling the truth. My heart skipped unexpectedly.
Was it possible that the Nome King had feelings for me in spite of myself? And if so, could I use that to my advantage?
I ignored the nagging little voice at the back of my head. The one that suggested that maybe, just maybe, I was feeling an answering spark. He wasn’t what I would call traditionally handsome. He wasn’t young. He wasn’t particularly nice.
But he was powerful. Incredibly powerful. And power is something I’ve never been able to resist.
I fluttered my eyelashes at him and he blinked. I’d startled him, I saw with a flash of pleasure. For just a moment, I had the advantage.
And I loved it.
“It has occurred to me,” he continued hurriedly, trying not to let me see I’d caught him off guard, “that there is one truly perfect way to join our two kingdoms.”
