Dorothy Must Die Novella #7

  Best of all, a small army of Flutterbudgets darted back and forth, setting the table with gleaming silverware and starched white napkins, filling cut-glass goblets with sparkling water, and bearing huge platters of more kinds of food than Lanadel had ever seen in one place in her life: singing jamfruits that periodically burst with a noisy squelch, sending sugary paste everywhere; piping-hot portlepastries baked into the shapes of flowers and trees; fizzgiggles that poured themselves into silver bowls, arguing fiercely with each other about who should get eaten first—Oz delicacies that Lanadel had only heard of but never imagined actually existed. She gasped out loud.

  “Glamora really missed the banquet hall in the Emerald Palace,” Nox said at her side, slightly amused by her wonder. “She’s the only one of us who really cares about all this stuff, to be honest. So we let her do whatever she wants, even though it takes a lot of her energy to keep up appearances. It means a lot to her.”

  “Appearances?” Lanadel asked. But as she looked more closely at the dazzling spectacle of the dining hall, she suddenly understood what Nox meant. The Flutterbudgets were setting the same places at the table over and over again. If she stared long enough at the chandeliers, their outlines blurred and she could see through them to the walls of the cave beyond them. The firelight flickered in the same repeating patterns. The fizzgiggles climbed into their bowls in the same endless order. The jamfruits’ song was stuck in a loop.

  And although the long table was polished to a blinding glow and set with dozens of places, only a handful of people sat at the end closest to Nox and Lanadel—Gert, Glamora, Melindra, Mombi, and a boy and a girl Lanadel didn’t recognize. The boy had long white-blond hair that he kept pushing out of his eyes and a pale, serious face. The girl was a Munchkin; her muscular blue-skinned arms were decorated with delicate, pale tattoos of vines and flowers, and her blue-black hair was shaved at the sides so that only a long lock remained on top of her head. All of them were dressed in training clothes, but the Munchkin’s and the pale boy’s looked somehow more expensive and carefully tailored than Melindra’s torn and patched clothes, as if they’d never actually worn them to train in. All of them were ignoring the darting Flutterbudgets, hovering dishes of food, and exploding pastries.

  “It’s fake,” Lanadel said as understanding dawned.

  Nox shrugged. “It’s an illusion,” he said, low enough so Glamora couldn’t hear him. “Not exactly the same thing. It’s real magic. You just can’t eat the food.”

  “Is it like this all the time?”

  “She changes it up. Last winter it got so cold we couldn’t train outside for a while, so she turned it into a big sunny outdoor picnic in here. Blue sky overhead, sunshine and all. For a while it looked exactly like Rainbow Falls. That was my favorite. You could even feel the mist on your face if you got close to the waterfall. But Mombi complained the water noises made her have to pee at every meal.”

  “But why?” Lanadel asked. “Why go to all the trouble?”

  “It’s a good reminder of what we’re fighting for,” Gert said from across the table. How had she heard what Nox was saying? Lanadel wondered if she could read lips—or minds. “Not just freedom, but the way things are supposed to be. Oz is meant to be a place of joy and delight for everyone who lives here.”

  “If Dorothy has her way, all that will change,” Nox added. He had a far-off look in his eyes. Everyone who joins the Wicked has lost something, he’d told her when she’d first arrived. Had his life been all about banquet halls and magical pastries before he learned how to fight? Well, he wasn’t the only one who had lost his entire family.

  “And what do you think?”

  “I don’t need illusions,” he said flatly, looking away.

  “My life was never like this,” Lanadel said frankly, and Nox’s gaze focused on her again. “Not before Dorothy, I mean. I lived in a tiny village. My family was poor. We didn’t have banquets and picnics; there was always too much work to do. I’ve never eaten any of this stuff or been waited on or been to Rainbow Falls or—”

  “You know what I mean,” Nox said tiredly. “Can we not argue about Oz’s economic conditions right now?” She was about to snap back a retort, but she swallowed it. For the first time, she felt almost sorry for Nox. Sometimes it seemed like he was carrying the entire weight of the Order on his—admittedly muscular—shoulders.

  “Sure,” she said quietly. “Sorry.” Something like gratitude flashed across his face and was gone. So even the high-and-mighty Nox had regular emotions every now and then. Lanadel filed that piece of information for later.

  “What are you doing, standing there like a monkey just flew off with your dinner?” someone was yelling from the table, and Lanadel immediately recognized Melindra’s raspy voice. “Sit down, you idiots. The food’s getting cold.”

  Nox shook his head as if he was trying to push out unwelcome thoughts and slid into an empty place next to Melindra. Lanadel sat down across from them. She couldn’t help noticing that Melindra didn’t quite make enough room for Nox, so that he couldn’t avoid touching her as he took his seat, but he didn’t seem to mind. She remembered what Melindra had said about flirting with him and almost rolled her eyes before she caught herself. And then Nox put his arm around her, and she leaned into him briefly before turning to her food. Okay, so Melindra was doing more than just flirting with him, apparently. Melindra and Nox? Anyone and Nox? It was hard to imagine the effusive, confident girl going for a riddle-spouting jerkwad, but love was weird. Not that she would know. She tried as hard as she could not to stare, but when Nox wasn’t looking, Melindra winked at her, and she burst into laughter.

  “What?” Nox asked in irritation, and Melindra started laughing, too. “What?”

  “No-thing,” Melindra sang out innocently. “Lanadel, glad this jackfruit finally showed you where we eat. This is Larkin”—she gestured to the serious-looking boy—“and Holly.” The Munchkin girl inclined her head. “And obviously you already know Gert and Glamora. And Mombi.” The old witch grunted rudely. She was shoving bread and cheese into her mouth as though it was her last meal. And, as it turned out, she chewed with her mouth open. Lanadel averted her eyes.

  As if in deliberate contrast to the magical, illusory banquet happening behind them, the food was almost aggressively ordinary: bread and cheese, some kind of bland, flavorless porridge, and a few (thankfully silent) apples. Lanadel wondered why Glamora didn’t spend more time magicking up some food that actually tasted good instead of wasting all her energy on a dinner party no one could enjoy, but by now she knew better than to ask questions. Maybe Nox was right, and the pretense was what was important. Acting as though things were normal, trying to keep their lives as close to what they’d been before as possible. Except that to Lanadel, none of it made sense. Their lives weren’t what they’d been before. That was the point. That was why they were all here. Pretending wasn’t going to get them anywhere. It wouldn’t bring back her family or change the past. The only way to return to the way things had been before Dorothy came back to Oz was to get rid of Dorothy. And that wasn’t going to happen without a fight.

  Lanadel was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t realize Larkin was asking her a question until he repeated it twice. “Where did you learn to fight before here?”

  She blinked. “Oh, sorry. I—well, I didn’t.” Larkin and Holly exchanged glances. They reminded her of the head councilman’s kids from her village. They had the same faintly arrogant air, as if they knew something nobody else in the room did.

  “You’ve never trained before?” Holly’s voice dripped disbelief—and scorn. “At all?”

  “No,” Lanadel said, bewildered. There’d never been a reason to learn how to fight in Oz before. Sure, there had once been wicked witches, but Dorothy had taken care of that long ago, when she first came to Oz and liberated the Munchkins and the Winkies.

  Larkin made a soft snorting noise. “Then what are you doing here?”

  “Ca
n you even use magic?” Holly asked in a tone that clearly suggested that if she couldn’t, she was of less use than the dirt on the cavern floor.

  “Leave her alone,” Melindra said sharply, sitting up. “We’re all here for a reason. Let’s not be twits about it.”

  Lanadel shot the other girl a grateful look, but Holly wasn’t done.

  “If we let just anybody join the Order—” she began with a sneer, but Mombi cut her off.

  “Are you questioning my judgment, girl?” the witch barked. “Think I’m letting in riffraff? Is there something you’d like to say to me directly?”

  “No,” Holly mumbled, looking down at the table, but her face was defiant and her scornful sneer didn’t relent.

  “Mombi and Melindra are right,” Nox added severely. “You two might be more experienced fighters, but Lanadel can hold her own. She wouldn’t be here if she couldn’t.”

  To her mortification, Lanadel actually flushed. Was Nox complimenting her? “I’m here,” she said pointedly. “You don’t have to talk about me like I can’t hear you.” Larkin snorted again and Mombi brought her fist down on the table with a thump.

  “That’s enough,” she said sharply. “Nox is right. And there are few enough of us as it is. We don’t need to be squabbling with each other. Is that clear?”

  “Of course, Mombi,” Holly said in a syrupy voice. “We’re sorry. Aren’t we?” she added, elbowing Larkin.

  “Oh, very sorry,” he echoed in the same insincere, singsongy voice. It was obvious neither one of them meant a word of it, but Mombi seemed satisfied by their apology.

  After they finished eating, Nox pulled her aside as the others wandered out of the dining room. “Things will be different for you,” he said seriously. “Your training will get harder than anything you’ve done before. We may need to move against Dorothy soon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A member of the Order is . . . collecting information,” he said vaguely, a troubled look passing across his face. “We haven’t heard from her in some time. If she’s been killed—well, it might mean Dorothy’s reach is farther than we think.” He had to be talking about the same girl Melindra had been referring to in the healing pool. But as usual, nobody was going to tell her anything else. Like what kind of danger this girl was in—or whether she herself would have to do the same thing soon. Melindra had tried to pretend that there was nothing to worry about, but Nox was obviously concerned. And if Nox was worried—well, that was a bad sign.

  Lanadel could tell him that something was already on the move. Something that Dorothy had probably sent—something that matched up with the rumors about crazy experiments and a creepy secret army. If Nox thought Dorothy was just sitting around in the Emerald Palace, he was wrong. But the thought of talking about what had happened to her was still too raw. Once again, she felt herself being pulled in too many directions. If only she could make a different Lanadel—one that could carry the pain for her, so her real self could keep fighting without having to think about it.

  Nox gave her a searching look. “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “It’s all right. I understand.”

  “I thought you would.” He nodded. “You’re doing well. Better than I’d expected considering the state you were in when you got here and your lack of any kind of training.”

  “Better than Holly and Larkin expected, I guess,” she said.

  He sighed and pushed his dark hair out of his face. “Holly and Larkin can be difficult, but they’re good fighters, and we need them. It’s better to just ignore some of their . . . quirks.”

  Is that what they are, Lanadel thought sourly. Where she was from, treating other people like garbage was more than just a “quirk.” It was a crappy thing to do. But Nox was right. If she’d just met the entire Order—well, it was hardly an intimidating army, even if Mombi, Gert, and Glamora were witches and Melindra was the best fighter in Oz. It was hard to imagine the ragtag bunch defeating Dorothy’s forces and restoring peace to Oz. But as far as she knew, the Order was the only game in town—and going up against Dorothy alone would be suicide.

  Training with the Order was the only chance she had to avenge her family. She didn’t care if she died trying, but the more fighters she had at her back, the further she would get. Besides, she wasn’t here to make friends. She was here to learn how to become a killing machine, and Nox and Melindra were the only people she’d met who seemed like they could teach her. She’d seen way worse than anything Holly and Larkin could do, she reminded herself. They were just minor distractions.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked suddenly. “Leading the Order, I mean.”

  He smiled. “I’m hardly the leader,” he said. “I leave that up to Gert and Mombi.”

  “But you’re basically in charge of the trainees.”

  He shrugged. “I know how to fight.”

  “Melindra does, too.”

  “Melindra’s our best,” he agreed. His expression was neutral. As usual, it was impossible to tell what he was really thinking. “But she’s impulsive. Gert and Mombi needed someone with more control to train new members.” Impulsive? Was he talking badly about his girlfriend? Was Melindra his girlfriend? And why did she even care? It’s none of your business, she told herself.

  “Is that why you don’t have emotions?”

  He looked surprised and then he laughed. “I have emotions,” he said. It was the most honest, unguarded thing she’d ever heard him say. As if lurking under his harsh, controlled exterior was a completely different person. Someone who knew how to smile, and laugh, and think about things other than fighting and death. Was that the person Melindra got to see all the time? Or was he this difficult with her, too?

  “Not any that you show.”

  “I’ve been fighting for a long time,” he said, his face closing down again. “And Oz teaches you that nothing is ever what it seems. It’s not a good idea to show people your true self or relax your guard.”

  “Even here?”

  “Especially here.” He was suddenly distant again. Now she really wanted to know what he was talking about. Did he mean he didn’t trust Melindra? Did he mean she shouldn’t trust Melindra? Was he just jealous of anyone else building up a relationship with Melindra?

  Out of all the Order, Melindra seemed the most untouched by all the horror of Oz. Somehow she had remained honest and open, while the rest of them toted around their scars. She wanted to ask Nox about her. If he was in love with her. If he was capable of being in love with anyone. But any chance she’d had of getting through his defenses to catch a glimpse of the real Nox was gone. “You should get some rest,” he added. “Real training starts tomorrow. You need to be ready.”

  He walked away without another word. Lanadel watched him go. Why he was so insistent that no one could be trusted? It was more than just his commitment to the Order and their training. Was it what had happened to his family, or being raised by Mombi—or was it something even worse? Whatever it was, it had hurt him so deeply that it seemed he would never be able to fully trust another person.

  Nox wasn’t her friend—but he was like her. All his anger bottled up inside, just waiting for an outlet. Putting up walls to keep himself safe. Melindra was the opposite of that. Despite all that she had gone through, she was still open to Nox and to Lanadel, and to life, in a way that Nox didn’t seem to be.

  Lanadel wondered if it was possible for Melindra to ever break through Nox’s wall. She had already somehow broken through to Lanadel. Lanadel didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. They were preparing for a war with Dorothy. Was having people who she cared about something that made her a better fighter, or a more vulnerable one?

  Nox seemed to be struggling with the same question. But which side would he come down on? And what would it mean for Melindra?

  FIVE

  The next day was so different from her first weeks with the Order that Lanadel felt as if she’d suddenly traveled to an enti
rely new place. A tiny, winged image of Gert woke her at dawn by blowing a miniature horn in her ear—not that she could tell from her sleeping cave that it was dawn. She only knew it because Gert had told her when she first came to the caverns that that was when training started every day. But instead of her solitary meal in her sleeping cave and a long, dreary day of endless one-on-one sessions with Nox, she trained for the first time in the main cave with everyone else. The training caves all had the same high ceilings, bright crystal lamps, and hard, smooth white floors. The walls were lined with dozens of weapons: axes, knives, swords, staffs, and other fighting implements Lanadel didn’t even recognize, let alone know how to use. Slings and harnesses dangled from the ceiling at one end of the cave; when Nox had taught her flips and leaping, whirling kicks, she’d started out in a harness until she learned to spin and cartwheel without help.

  Now Nox and Melindra circled her in the middle of the polished white floor while Larkin and Holly watched from the sidelines. In the ring, there was nothing friendly about Melindra’s face. Her expression was stony and focused, her eyes fixed. Lanadel could practically feel the searing force of her gaze as Melindra assessed her every weakness with razor-sharp precision.

  “How would you fight differently against two people?” Nox asked as the two of them continued their unnerving, predator-like circle. “Think about what I’ve taught you.”

  “Like teaching her anything is going to help.” Larkin’s voice was low, but it carried. Lanadel flushed with anger. She opened her mouth to answer him, and Nox and Melindra pounced. Melindra moved so fast Lanadel didn’t even realize what was happening until she was on her back on the floor, the other girl’s knee resting on her chest.