Dorothy Must Die Novella #5

  “He’s my friend!” the Lion bellowed, struggling, but the monkeys had already hoisted him far above the battlefield. The Scarecrow watched in despair as the last of the animals were carried to safety.

  Then he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. “Let’s get you out of here,” Glinda said into his ear. There was a bright flash of pink light, and then the battlefield—and Jinjur’s astonished soldiers—disappeared in a puff of glittery pink smoke.

  TWELVE

  The Scarecrow had a dizzying sense of flying through the air—far faster than the winged monkeys had carried him. Clouds flew by, and the landscape below rushed toward him and then receded again. Glinda’s grip on him never lessened, and somehow he knew he was safe. And then everything went dark. He heard a rushing sound, and had the sensation of passing through something thick and dense. “Hang on, dear,” Glinda said. The Scarecrow squeezed his eyes shut. The pressure grew more and more intense, until he was sure both of them would be crushed.

  With a sudden pop, the pressure vanished, and the Scarecrow tumbled to a soft, carpeted floor. Blinking, he sat up and looked around him.

  He was in a beautiful, richly decorated bedroom. The walls were covered with a pink rose-patterned wallpaper, and thick pink carpet covered the floor. A huge bed, piled high with pink satin cushions, sat at one end of the room, but despite its size the room itself was so big the bed hardly seemed to take up any room at all. An ornately carved divan upholstered in pink fabric was perfectly positioned to take advantage of the view from the room’s huge picture windows, which looked out over a garden.

  “Where are we?” asked the Scarecrow.

  “My palace, of course!” Glinda laughed, throwing herself down on the divan and stretching luxuriously. “That last bit going through the walls is always so dreary, but we made it safe and sound! Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

  “No, thank you,” said the Scarecrow, who was unable to do either of those things.

  “Well, I’m famished,” Glinda proclaimed dramatically. She rummaged in the divan cushions and triumphantly held aloft an intricately crafted, jewel-studded pink bird figurine. “Send up a strawberry sundae, please,” she told the bird. The Scarecrow wondered if she might be a little batty. But to his surprise, the figurine chirped aloud, and Glinda settled back into the cushions with a sigh, tucking the bird into her dress.

  “I do love ice cream after a battle,” she said dreamily, closing her eyes. “I find it really calms the nerves.” Within moments, there was a soft knock on her bedroom door. Glinda showed no signs of moving, so the Scarecrow got up to open it. A maid in a neatly pressed pink uniform curtsied deeply, and then gave a start when she saw him. “I didn’t realize the mistress had a guest,” she whispered, holding out a pink ice cream sundae on a pink tray. As soon as the Scarecrow took it from her, she bolted back down the corridor. She clearly had no desire to encounter Glinda herself. The Scarecrow brought Glinda her sundae, and Glinda rapturously spooned ice cream into her mouth.

  “Your, uh, witchly eminence,” the Scarecrow began.

  “Oh, just Glinda!” she exclaimed. “I feel like we’re old friends, and anyway I hate formalities, don’t you?”

  “Glinda,” he said awkwardly. “Can you tell me—I mean, why am I here?”

  “Such an existential question!” She laughed. “You really are an intellectual, dear Scarecrow.” He couldn’t quite tell if she was making fun of him, but decided she wasn’t. Her expression grew serious. “As we discussed in the forest,” she said, “that wretched monkey’s plan was bound to fail. Now it’s your turn, Scarecrow. Have you come up with a plan?”

  He didn’t know how to tell her that he hadn’t even begun to think about another way to retake the palace. Now, in the safety of Glinda’s palace, he tried to understand what had just happened. “I didn’t think so many people would die,” he said finally. “I haven’t really thought about what to do next.”

  Glinda narrowed her eyes. Suddenly he thought that he did not want to find out what it would be like to cross her. But then the expression passed again, and she smiled gently. “You’ve been through so much in the last day! But I did warn you that casualties would happen. There are always sacrifices that must be made when one wishes to win a war.”

  “I suppose what we need is a stronger army,” he said. “The Lion’s forces weren’t strong enough, even with the help of the winged monkeys. But Jinjur lost plenty of her soldiers, too. The castle’s defenses will be weakened, if we can find a way to strike again before she can recover.”

  “Brilliant!” Glinda exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I knew you’d come through, Scarecrow!” As far as he could tell, he’d only stated the obvious, but he nodded as if her praise meant something to him. He hadn’t forgotten that brief, mean look in her eyes, or how the servant had seemed to be terrified of her. What did Glinda really want with him, and why was it so important to her that he believe she thought he was so intelligent? He was clever, to be sure, but if he was really honest with himself he had to admit that he wasn’t that clever. Not yet, anyway. So what game was Glinda playing?

  Glinda had finished her sundae, and she set the dish aside with a sigh of satisfaction. “That really hit the spot,” she declared. “Now, dear Scarecrow, I have something to show you. Come with me.” She got up from the divan, and he obediently followed her out of the room and down a long pink corridor. She led him to another, much larger room, with walls made out of pink-tinted glass. Broad-leafed pink plants climbed the glass, and huge hot-pink blossoms nodded gently among the paler pink leaves. The ceiling was a stained-glass mosaic depicting various scenes. Some were strange to him, like girls with butterflies’ wings flying over a desert. Others were more familiar: the Wizard floating in his balloon, Toto sitting obediently, and the Scarecrow himself, along with the Woodman and the Lion, walking merrily down the Road of Yellow Brick. “My solarium,” Glinda said, waving a hand at the glass walls.

  “It’s marvelous,” the Scarecrow breathed, looking around him in awe.

  “I should really have the ceiling redone,” Glinda said, looking up with a flash of irritation. “All that boring old Oz history nobody cares about. Don’t you think more flowers would be prettier?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” the Scarecrow said, but he looked up again. The only Oz history he knew was from the books he’d read so far. There were the witches, of course, and there had been the Wizard, but who’d ruled Oz before him? He hadn’t gotten to that part yet.

  And Glinda took it all for granted. He envied all the years of knowing she had that he didn’t.

  Glinda opened a set of glass doors and stepped out onto a balcony, gesturing for the Scarecrow to follow. The view awaiting him took his breath away. It wasn’t the stunning vista of clear blue sky and high, snowcapped mountains. It wasn’t the sprawling flower gardens or the carefully pruned orchards. It was the rows and rows of girl soldiers, faces turned up to the balcony, saluting Glinda smartly. And every single one of them looked exactly like Glinda, down to the perfect, identically arranged ringlets.

  “May I present my army,” Glinda said, the smugness evident in her voice. “At your disposal, dear Scarecrow. As am I.”

  THIRTEEN

  The Scarecrow was speechless. Glinda’s army stood motionless, their armor glittering in the sun. “You’re probably wondering why I didn’t send my girls in with the Lion,” Glinda said. She was right; he was. “The answer is I want you at my side, Scare. Together we’ll make a great team behind the throne of the new Oz. And I have just the ruler we need.” She signaled to her soldiers, and they wheeled in unison and marched back into the palace.

  “But I thought—you said you wanted to help me take back the palace,” the Scarecrow said, completely bewildered. “Why would I help you put someone else in power?”

  “Not in power,” Glinda said smoothly. “On the throne. Big difference, Scare. The fact is, the people of Oz love a new ruler. If Jinjur hadn’t come along, someone else woul
d have unseated you. It’s not that I don’t have total faith in you,” she continued, cutting off his protest. “Believe me, you’re the smartest man who’s sat in that old chair in a long, long time. It’s just the way Oz is. Which is why the trick isn’t to be on the throne—it’s to be behind it.” She arched an eyebrow at him triumphantly.

  “Behind it?” he echoed.

  “Kings and queens come and go, but power stays with the powerful. You don’t have to be the King of Oz to rule it. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  He did, although he wasn’t entirely sure he believed her. Something told him that, as pretty and kind as she seemed, Glinda wasn’t being entirely straight with him. But two could play at this game until he figured out her real motives. “So we find someone who’ll listen to us, and find a way to put that person in the Emerald Palace?”

  “I knew you’d get it,” she said. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I have the strength to get rid of that ugly little pest Jinjur, and I know just the girl to put in her place.” She pulled the jeweled bird out of her dress. “Bring me the princess,” she told it. “And make sure she’s wearing a dress this time. She’s visiting a witch, after all.” She giggled and put the bird away. “She’s the dullest little thing, really,” Glinda said. “Always wanting to sit in the garden and read a book, if you can believe it. She goes for walks in the countryside.” Glinda shuddered.

  Reading books was not something to sneer at.

  “No interest in fashion, and she’s been up north for ages in that wretched Gillikin Country, so she has no manners to speak of. She’s quite the rustic. But she’s quiet, she’s royalty, and she’ll do what she’s told.”

  “Royalty?” asked the Scarecrow, totally confused.

  “She’s a fairy,” Glinda said, as if that explained it. She arched her eyebrow again. “You don’t know? According to legend, the fairies are the rightful rulers of Oz.” She shrugged. “Technically, she’s supposed to be the queen already. She was in line to inherit the throne, but she was only an infant when the Wizard arrived in Oz and exiled her to Gillikin Country. I don’t know what on earth she’s been doing there, but it certainly wasn’t anything useful.”

  “But what about my education plan? What about the School of Oz . . . ,” he asked, needing to know.

  “I think you and I could convince her to do just about anything,” Glinda countered. But he suddenly felt like he was the one being convinced.

  The solarium doors opened, and a young girl walked into the room. The first thing the Scarecrow noticed about her was that she was extraordinarily beautiful. She had huge, luminous green eyes, and thick, inky-black hair fell in heavy curls to her waist. Her skin was clear and glowing, and she was the picture of youthful innocence. But unlike Glinda, who played up her beauty with elegant clothes and artful makeup, the fairy princess wore a simple dress. She was barefoot, and carrying a bunch of flowers.

  “Look what I brought from the garden!” she said excitedly as she ran up to them. “Glinda, the star lilies are blooming!” She held up the white blossoms. Tiny, real constellations sparkled among the petals, winking in and out.

  “Ozma, those are weeds,” Glinda said. With a wave of her hand the blossoms withered and turned to glitter. “We don’t bring weeds into the palace, dearest. Now, I want you to meet someone.” She glanced down at Ozma’s bare feet and sighed.

  “Shoes,” Glinda said, and with another balletic move of her arm, brown leather shoes appeared on Ozma’s feet. Glinda scrutinized her.

  “Ears,” she said, and big blossoms appeared, covering Ozma’s delicate little ears. “Legend has it fairy ears can hear your deepest desires. We can’t have that, now, can we?”

  Ozma nodded obediently, then her eyes fell on Scarecrow.

  “I know who you are!” Ozma exclaimed, turning to the Scarecrow and going down on one knee. “You’re the king, aren’t you?”

  “I—it’s a bit complicated right now,” the Scarecrow said, but Glinda interrupted him.

  “He was the king, my dear, but he was only keeping the throne safe until the real ruler of Oz came along.” Glinda winked at the Scarecrow over Ozma’s head, and he saw immediately what she was doing. “In fact, he’s been waiting all along for that person to return to the Emerald City, and she very nearly has. Do you know who she is?” Ozma, wide-eyed, shook her head. Glinda threw back her head and laughed.

  “Why, she’s you, dearest! You are the direct descendant of Lurline, the fairy who created Oz out of the Deadly Desert, as you know. But that doesn’t just make you part of a wonderful family. It means you are the rightful Queen of Oz! That’s why I’ve brought you back from Gillikin Country.”

  Ozma gasped, and her hands flew to her face in shock. “But I—I don’t know how to be a queen, Glinda!”

  “Why do you think I’ve been so insistent you learn about manners and fashion, my dear? But you needn’t worry. The Scarecrow is incredibly experienced, and we’ll both be right next to you, ready to help you with anything you need.”

  Ozma frowned. “Isn’t being queen about much more than manners and fashion?”

  The faintest note of impatience crept into Glinda’s voice. “If you want to be a queen, you must look like a queen,” she said.

  Ozma nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

  “Tomorrow, we’ll take my army to the Emerald City,” Glinda said. “We’ll get rid of Jinjur once and for all. And then, my dear, we’ll put you where you belong—on the throne of Oz.”

  “I can hardly believe it,” Ozma said. “Am I really meant to be the queen? Are you sure you don’t mind, Your Highness?”

  Glinda shot the Scarecrow a meaningful look. “Glinda is right,” he said. “I couldn’t sit on the throne knowing Oz’s rightful ruler was nearby. You’re the Queen of Oz, just as Glinda says.” Ozma’s green eyes filled with tears, and she reached for his hand, overcome with emotion.

  Really, the Scarecrow thought, she was just a child. She should be in school. For a moment he felt bad for her—this poor girl, caught in issues too large for her to understand. Glinda was right, although perhaps not in the way she thought. Ozma wasn’t ready to rule Oz—not because she was dull, but because she was much too young. She needed Glinda. And Glinda, he realized, needed him. Ozma might be the supposed true ruler of Oz, but he was the actual one—not counting Jinjur, of course. His support of Ozma would be a crucial part of Glinda’s plan. If he opposed her openly, at least some of Oz’s citizens would likely rally behind him, throwing a wrench into Glinda’s works.

  To his surprise, the fact that Glinda was scheming behind his back excited rather than insulted him. It was a puzzle to figure out. He was getting a real head for politics, and the behind-the-scenes action was far more rewarding than the dreary day-to-day business of ruling Oz had ever been. Let poor Ozma hear the endless petitions and complaints of her subjects. Let her fall asleep on the throne every afternoon out of sheer boredom as Munchkin after Munchkin rambled on about the misdeeds of his neighbors. Let her sign laws into effect until her little hands cramped. She was welcome to the job. As he was beginning to realize, the part that intrigued him was the thrill of the game. Ruling was about playing a long con, and power meant you were willing to strategize behind the scenes for as long as it took. Glinda’d had years of thinking and planning. He just needed to catch up.

  He’d been skeptical, but in that moment he made his decision. He’d go along with Glinda’s plan and support Ozma’s return to the throne. He’d bide his time. And someday—maybe someday soon—he’d show Glinda that he was made of far more than she’d thought. She had underestimated him, and for now that was to his advantage. She wouldn’t underestimate him forever. He could keep secrets, too.

  Glinda looked at him through her eyelashes as if she could sense his resolution. She smiled a pretty, kindly smile that entirely failed to reach her glittering blue eyes.

  As he walked away, Glinda called after him. He turned around, and her eyes, those magnetic pools of
blue, met his. “The thing you’ll never understand is that it doesn’t matter how much information you put in your brain. It’s about what you do with the information you have.” She smiled the satisfied smile of a well-fed carnivore. He knew he was supposed to be afraid, to feel out of his depth.

  Glinda wanted him to know that she was smarter than him and that she always would be. But Glinda had finally made a mistake. She’d meant to boast, or even threaten him. But without realizing it, she’d given him instructions instead.

  FOURTEEN

  Early the next morning, Glinda sent a flock of gilded songbirds—literally covered in gold leaf—to the Forest of the Beasts to tell the Lion that she and the Scarecrow were making their own move on the Emerald City. “I’ve invited them all to the battle, but I’m sure it’ll be over by the time they arrive. They can join us for your coronation instead, dear,” she said to Ozma, stroking the girl’s dark hair.

  “My coronation?”

  “You didn’t think you’d just sit on the throne and that would be that! Of course you’ll have a coronation. It’ll be the grandest party Oz has ever seen! We’ll order you a dozen new dresses, and bucketloads of jewels. You can pick out your favorite things to eat and we’ll serve them at the banquet, and there will be dancing all night long!”

  “But if Jinjur has hurt so many people, no one will feel like dancing,” Ozma said. “Wouldn’t it be better to make sure everyone in the city is taken care of instead of focusing on a party?”

  “Nonsense!” Glinda exclaimed. “Everyone will want to be distracted from their troubles, and they’ll be so excited to have a new queen that they won’t even think of Jinjur anymore. You’ll see I’m right. Remember, I know much more than you do about running a kingdom!”

  “You’re right,” Ozma said. “You’re much wiser than I am when it comes to these things.” Still, the Scarecrow thought he saw a glimmer of doubt in her eyes.