“They make the most wonderful butlers,” Glinda murmured, following Mombi’s look of surprise. “You don’t even have to pay them!” She reached behind her sofa and pulled out a small, decorated container of glass and tin, which she dangled enticingly. The Flathead butler gave it a look of incredible longing, licking his lips as his fingers twitched even more agitatedly by his waist. “Just keep their brains and they’re yours forever.”
“Isn’t that sort of cruel?” Mombi asked.
Glinda laughed. “Cruel? You do have a lot to learn, dear child.” She glanced at the Flathead contemptuously. “Boris, take Mombi to the fourth-best guest chambers and see that she’s comfortable.”
“Your Eminence,” the Flathead said. “It’s Boreanorus, mistress.”
“In my house, you’re whatever I want to call you,” Glinda said, her voice icy. She stood up, walked over to the window, and held the can outside by the tips of her fingers.
“No, please!” the Flathead protested, lunging toward her, but he froze when Glinda shook the can.
“Tut, tut,” she said sweetly. “Apologize to me, Boris.”
Expressionless, his eyes wide with misery and fear as he stared at the can in Glinda’s hand, Boris sank to his knees and prostrated himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I can’t hear you!” Glinda trilled merrily.
“Forgive me,” the Flathead said in a louder voice.
“This time,” Glinda said, wagging a finger. “Just this once. What is your name, butler?”
“Boris, Your Eminence,” the Flathead said.
“I thought so,” Glinda said with satisfaction. She took her hand out of the window and Boris sighed with relief, his eyes following the can like a cat stalking a mouse. Glinda, ignoring him now, lobbed the can toward the wall behind the sofa. Boris flinched visibly as it struck the wall and rolled underneath the sofa. Boris licked his lips again, his face twisting into a sullen expression of misery and despair.
“Take Mombi to her rooms,” Glinda said, turning her back on them.
Mombi cleared her throat. “Should I meet with you in—in the morning, Glinda?”
“Whatever for?” Glinda asked in a bored voice.
“For my first lesson.” Mombi had to resist the urge to call Glinda Your Eminence like the poor butler.
“Oh, that. There are a bunch of old books in my library, you should read them all.”
Mombi was excited about the books. But she wanted some first-hand instruction.
“I was hoping to learn from you directly.”
“And you will, but I think you need to learn from the great history of Oz first.”
She paused dramatically. Mombi wondered if she would have to start doing that when she became a full-blown witch.
“Hmmm. Very well. For your first lesson, why don’t you find a dragon.”
“A dragon?” Mombi asked, startled.
“There’s a whole family living underground just past Loonville,” Glinda said. “Bring me back one of the dragons—and turn it pink, like that charming rabbit of yours. You’re dismissed now.”
A dragon? Had Glinda lost her mind? But the witch had already turned away from her and back to her hapless handmaiden, who was busy now removing the polish from Glinda’s right hand and replacing it with an even more vibrant shade of pink. Boris was staring pitilessly at Mombi; waiting, she realized, to lead her to the guest room—fourth best—as he’d been instructed. There was nothing else to do but follow him. Perhaps Glinda would be in a better mood tomorrow.
And perhaps she was only kidding about that dragon.
But in the morning, she found a map drawn in pink with a pink X marking the dragon spot. She found the dragon family as instructed, after a long uncomfortable adventure involving underground tunnels.
Mombi wasn’t sure what to expect exactly. She did know that she was in no way prepared to fight a dragon. And her one trick—transforming color—was no protection against a giant creature that gnashed its teeth and breathed fire.
When she arrived in the lair, they were all sleeping. A dragon that seemed almost as tall as the throne room in the Emerald Palace was curled around four sleeping infant dragons. If Mombi was very quiet perhaps she could carefully extricate one of the babies and put it in her burlap sack.
She took a step forward, reminding herself what was at stake. Glinda would teach her magic. Wasn’t that worth anything?
But the more she thought about it, risking her limbs to borrow a baby from its sleeping mother was definitely not worth it. Being armless would be a real hindrance while trying to learn magic.
Her outstretched hands fell to her sides. She then put them back in her pockets and turned away.
She would tell Glinda she couldn’t find the cave. After all, the maps were complicated. It wouldn’t be the first time someone assumed she wasn’t smart. This time she could use it to her advantage.
A voice stopped her as she exited the cave.
“Who are you?”
Mombi turned, and her jaw dropped slightly when she saw that it was the dragon mother.
“I’m sorry,” Mombi said, trying to make her voice as steady as possible. “I didn’t mean to disturb your rest.”
“Well, I am awake now, and no one comes this far without a reason.” She exhaled a small puff of smoke. “Are you here to try to slay me?”
“No, nothing like that. Glinda sent me . . .”
The dragon’s eyes widened and she nudged her babies awake. They stretched, and little plumes of fire escaped their nostrils.
“We have to go, little ones.”
If Mombi didn’t know any better, she’d say that a dragon roughly the size of a palace was afraid of Glinda the Good Witch. Something wasn’t right.
“You won’t tell her you found us . . .” the mother implored.
“Of course not, she only wanted . . .”
But Mombi didn’t finish the sentence. If she was trying to reassure the creature, borrow one of your babies did not sound at all good.
The dragon and her babies flew from the cave with a whoosh, leaving Mombi more confused than ever, and shaking in her boots. And not just from the force of the dragons’ departure.
When she returned to the palace, she found Glinda lounging on her chaise.
“Well, where is it?” she asked.
“I, uh, couldn’t find it. I got lost.”
Glinda fluttered her eyelashes. “Then why are you covered in dragon ash, dear?”
Mombi brushed the telltale soot off her jacket, and stuttered.
“What I meant was . . . I found it, but they were already gone.” Mombi half-expected her to be mad. But Glinda trilled a laugh.
“Dragons are so flighty! Let’s have some tea. Boris is bringing the most delightful pink butter cake.”
Mombi felt herself able to breathe again, but she still felt on edge. She didn’t know what her next mission would be, but she was feeling nervous about it.
But the next mission didn’t come.
After the dragon incident, in fact, Glinda seemed interested in Mombi only as a companion. She took her to see Princess Gayelette and her consort Quelala—both of them by then withered and ancient and forgetful—at the ruby palace in the northern quadrant of Gillikin Country. She let her come along and hold her bags as they wandered the floating bazaars of Loonville and ate dinner with the giants of Yoop Castle. They took a balloon tour over the forest of Gugu and ate dazzleberry tarts with a bevy of Mist Maidens. In short, while visiting Glinda, she did everything there was to do in Gillikin Country—except learn magic. Everywhere they went, Mombi peppered her with questions about her studies. About the books in her library that were covered in dust.
Occasionally the other denizens of Gillikin Country they met along the way offered to show Mombi what they knew, but Glinda shooed them away—she didn’t want them to derail her training. Besides, their magic was no more powerful than Mombi’s—in fact, she was stronger than most of them. The more she t
raveled, the more she realized how much magical potential she had—which made the whole thing even more frustrating.
But Glinda was still stronger. Glinda still had what Mombi wanted—and she refused to share her secrets.
Finally, after hanging around Glinda’s palace for weeks, she gave up. She’d read every book. Tried every spell. The fourth-best guest chambers were nowhere near as comfortable as her own humble house in the foothills of the Traveling Mountains. Glinda was, if anything, even less helpful than she had been the first day Mombi showed up to ask her help. It was clear the witch was only toying with her, for whatever reason—her own amusement, to prevent Mombi from gaining enough power to become a rival, out of spite—who could even know. Mombi vowed that the next day she would pack her bags full of everything she’d brought, and all the various souvenirs she’d purchased since her arrival, summon a carriage, and abandon her failed project. With any luck, she’d never have to see Glinda again, let alone beg her for favors the Good witch had no intention of granting.
That night, Mombi dreamed of Lurline.
At that time in the history of Oz, Lurline was only a rumor of a legend. The fairy who had founded Oz; the queen at the very beginning, who’d created the kingdom out of dust and emptiness, who’d made gardens out of the desert and pulled magic out of the earth itself. Most people in Oz—those who’d even heard of Lurline, which was few enough to begin with—believed Lurline was just an old story that had been passed down from parent to child, a fairy tale along the lines of “The Wizard Who Climbed the Sunfruit Vine and the Little Winged Monkey Who Could.” But Mombi knew enough magic to sense that Lurline was real, even if she hadn’t been seen in Oz in a century. And she knew enough magic to sense, as soon as she fell into the strange, surreal dream in which Lurline appeared to her, that what she was dreaming was, in fact, true.
They were walking together along a golden path that looked like a slightly more glamorous cousin to the Road of Yellow Brick. Lurline was dressed in a simple white gown, her huge gold-and-black wings fluttering delicately behind her. Mombi was wearing her usual shapeless, unflattering, homespun dress. But although Lurline was a thousand times more beautiful than Glinda, she was gracious and inviting and kind. They strolled together through a lush, overgrown garden where emerald-leafed plants yielded huge, heavy, perfume-laden flowers. The ground on either side of the golden path was shaggy with thick, deep grass. Pollen-drunk butterflies stumbled from blossom to blossom, and birdcalls trilled through the air.
“I know it’s been a bit difficult for you, poor thing,” Lurline was saying. Mombi was somehow aware that they had been talking and walking for a long time, although she couldn’t for the life of her remember how the conversation had started, or what they’d discussed previously. “Glinda is . . . well, Glinda.” Lurline sighed. “I wish things were different,” she said thoughtfully, almost as if she was speaking to herself and Mombi wasn’t even there. “But it is becoming increasingly apparent what her true nature is. It is the nature of power to corrupt those who seek to use it for their own ends.”
“I had hoped to learn something from her,” Mombi said. “But this whole time she . . .” Lurline didn’t seem to be paying attention to her, and Mombi fell silent. She understood that Lurline hadn’t showed up in her dream to tell her how to get more information out of Glinda. The fairy was there for something else. Something far more important, Mombi had to admit, than whether or not one witch was able to become more powerful.
“Yes, I’m afraid I have a task for you,” Lurline said, as if she could read Mombi’s thoughts. She most likely could. “A very large favor, in fact. I would ask someone else, dear witch, but this is a strange time. There are so few in Oz I can trust these days.”
Mombi stared at the fairy, willing her to continue. Lurline, she knew, was far more powerful than even Glinda. Could it possibly be that the fairy had chosen her—Mombi, never before noticed by witch or fairy alike—for some special, secret mission? Did Lurline plan on giving her special, secret powers? Perhaps Mombi had been looking in the wrong place all along. Glinda had never meant to help her. But the fairies—that was something else altogether. The fairies were directly connected to the Old Magic of Oz. Next to Lurline, Glinda was nothing more than a parlor magician.
But how had Lurline found her? And what could she possibly want with a humble aspiring witch who could barely enchant a backyard toad?
“You’re too modest,” Lurline said gently, again as if she could read Mombi’s very thoughts. “You’re much more accomplished than that. We’ve been watching you for a while, dear.”
We? Mombi thought.
“I know you came to Glinda to learn more than what she’s offered you,” Lurline continued. “You’ve been very patient, but I’m afraid it’s all in vain. Glinda has many strengths, but sharing her power will never be one of them. She has no intention of giving away any of her secrets.” Mombi nodded. She’d suspected as much already; Lurline’s words came as no surprise.
“But your dedication is impressive,” Lurline said. “Your willingness to put up with her whims, to travel about—everything that you’ve gone through, not just with Glinda, up until this point. You want this very badly, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Mombi said hoarsely.
“Then it will be quite easy to bargain with you,” Lurline said with a gentle smile. “We ask very little, but we are able to offer quite a lot more than you can imagine.”
“You will teach me Old Magic?” Mombi asked eagerly.
“I will set you on the path to knowledge,” Lurline said. “Real magic can only be earned, not given. You will still have to work.”
“I’ll do anything,” Mombi said eagerly. “I don’t mind hard work.”
“I know,” Lurline said calmly. “That’s why I’ve chosen you. There is Good in you, Mombi. And we need Good to balance the Wicked that is growing in Oz.”
Mombi had never thought much of Good or Wicked. She thought of the witches and the things that they did and how she would do them differently. And now, perhaps, she would have her chance. But there were rumors, of course, that were unsettling about the witches of the South and West, and what she’d seen of Glinda was not the sweetness and light that she had expected. Still, she felt something unfamiliar rise in her chest. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Something like hope.
“What is it you want from me?” she asked.
“A child is in need of safe haven, and you will be her caretaker until the time comes when sheltering her is no longer necessary.”
“A child?” Mombi asked, confused.
“The child,” Lurline said. “Ozma, the true ruler of Oz.”
Mombi stopped walking and stared at the fairy, forgetting the beautiful landscape around them. “The true ruler of Oz? But Oz has no true ruler.”
“The fairies are the rightful heirs to the throne of Oz,” Lurline said. “Only our kind are ultimately uncorruptible by Oz’s magic. We are the stuff of Oz itself, and can never act to harm it or its people. All other rulers are . . . fallible.” She smiled. “A lesson we seem determined to learn the hard way over and over again, I’m afraid. Ozma is a fairy, and the true successor to the throne.”
“If that’s the case, why does she need protecting?” Mombi asked.
Lurline looked serious—and sad. “Glinda,” she said simply.
“Glinda?” Mombi echoed stupidly, and then she realized what Lurline was saying. “Glinda wants to hurt the true ruler of Oz? But why . . .”
“You know the answer to that,” Lurline said.
And, of course, that much was true. Mombi had already seen plenty of evidence of both Glinda’s power and Glinda’s cruelty. Beneath the mask of Goodness lurked a manipulative, power-hungry witch who abused her power over those weaker than she was. Mombi would never have guessed that Glinda wanted to control Oz itself—the idea was almost unthinkable. But as soon as Lurline said it, she knew it was true.
Glinda wasn’t Good. Far fr
om it.
“Glinda has already tried to kill Ozma, but she was unable to find the child,” Lurline continued.
Not Good was one thing, but trying to kill a child was downright Wicked.
“It is obviously in the best interests of Oz for Ozma to survive to adulthood and take the throne, as is her right. Besides, she’s family.” Lurline smiled again. “It’s my duty to protect her, whatever the cost. But I only have so much influence over events in Oz from this place.” She waved a hand around her, encompassing the jungle, the beautiful plants and flowers, the golden path. “I need your help, Mombi. I need you to protect the succession line of Oz. And I may need more from you in the future.”
“More from me? What do you mean?”
“The future is never as clear as we wish it to be,” Lurline said. “But I sense dark times ahead, dear Mombi. I am afraid the shadow of war hangs over Oz.”
“War?” Mombi echoed disbelievingly.
Lurline nodded. “A war that will swallow us all,” she said in that eerie tone she’d used earlier, as if Mombi had faded into the background and she was talking to herself. She shook herself and seemed to snap back to reality. “Tell no one of this dream,” she instructed. “When the child comes to you, you will know her, although she may come through an unexpected messenger. And when you have completed this task, your reward will be waiting—assuming you are ready for it.”
“What do I need to do to be ready?”
“Work,” Lurline said simply. She brushed her long, slender fingers over Mombi’s face. “You are strong already—stronger than you think. Your powers are growing. Study will take you far. When you have finished your first mission, I will repay you with the power you’ve asked for. And now, return to the waking world, little witch. This dream will stay with you until it is time for you to act. Know that if you act as I have instructed, you act with my blessing.”
Lurline’s shimmering outline was already dissolving into golden light. “Wait!” Mombi cried. “But how will I—” But she never finished the sentence. She sat bolt upright in her uncomfortable bed in Glinda’s palace, her heart pounding.