Yellow Brick War (18 page)

“Princess,” Lulu breathed. “You've returned.” She sank to one knee in a sweeping, courtly bow. After a second, Mombi knelt, too. Then Gert, and then Nox, who elbowed me in the ribs. I yelped and then took the hint, curtsying before Ozma, who nodded regally. Only Glamora didn't bow. Ozma looked her dead in the eye, and finally, she knelt, never taking her eyes off the princess.

“You do not think I am myself,” Ozma said, bemused.

Glamora looked away at last, unable to meet her gaze any longer. “I don't think we should be hasty,” she said, almost sullenly, like a teenager scolded for not cleaning her room.

“Of course it's her,” Lulu barked, jumping to feet and brandishing a little pistol she seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. “Why, you—”

Ozma laughed merrily. “My dear champion! Lulu, what would we do without you? I don't blame Glamora for doubting
me.” Her expression grew sober. “I've been gone for a long time. But I promise you, Glamora, it's me. And with Dorothy gone, I can at last regain my rightful place as the ruler of Oz.”

Lulu cheered, dancing around the princess in what looked suspiciously like an actual jig. I stifled a laugh. Even Nox cracked a grin. He stood up and helped me to my feet. Gert and Mombi soon followed. But Glamora remained on her knees.

“Forgive me, Princess, for being suspicious,” she murmured, her eyes downcast. “As you said, it's been a long time.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Ozma sighed and looked out over the ruins of what had once been the Emerald City. “I hope too much has not been lost for the glory of Oz to be restored,” she said sadly.

Mombi cleared her throat. “Come now, Princess, that's no way to talk,” she said gruffly. To my astonishment, I saw that her eyes were filling with tears. “Oh, never mind this old bag,” she grumbled, embarrassed, as she dashed them away with the heel of her hand. “I never thought this day would come.”

But I remembered what Lurline had told me. “We're not done yet,” I said. “We still have to deal with the Nome King.”

“If we've defeated Dorothy, he'll be planning his next move. We're safe for the time being,” Glamora said.

“But he's with my mom. I have to get back to Kansas somehow. I think I can use the shoes to—”

“You're not going anywhere with those shoes,” Mombi said sharply. “They belong to Oz. Their magic stays here.”

“But—”

“We all make sacrifices, Amy,” Glamora said silkily. Mombi was nodding in agreement.

Nox stepped forward, taking my hand. “Listen to them, Amy,” he said. “They know what's best.” Had he lost his mind? I opened my mouth to protest. He winked at me, too quickly for the other witches to catch, and I understood. There was no point in fighting all three of them now. He was right. We could figure out a better plan later. And the fact that he was on my side made everything suddenly seem more bearable.

“A coronation!” Gert exclaimed, straightening up, as if we hadn't just been arguing about the fate of Oz. “That's just what we need. Bring the country back together, give people something to look forward to. Oz loves a new monarch. Even if she's a monarch we've already had.”

Ozma laughed. “I've already
had
a coronation, Gert,” she said, but Gert waved a hand dismissively.

“That was ages ago,” she said. “Besides, we had that whole unfortunate interlude with Dorothy the Usurper. We want to reassure the whole country that the right person is back in charge for good. A coronation is what the people will want.”

“We don't even have a
palace
,” Mombi pointed out.

“We'll host it in the land of monkeys,” Lulu said excitedly. “Boy, do monkeys know how to throw a party. Why, the last time we—”

“No, no,” Ozma interrupted. “Of course I appreciate your offer, dear Lulu, but the coronations of Oz have always been in the Emerald Palace. If there's no palace, we'll have to build
something. The heart of Oz is here and always has been, even if the palace is no longer standing.”

I was pretty close to no longer standing myself. I didn't realize I'd said it out loud until Nox shot me a funny look. Ozma laughed again and clapped her hands.

“What am I thinking?” she exclaimed. “First, my brave Wicked must rest. You've been through so much. We can hardly plan a party if you're all starving and exhausted.”

As soon as she said it, I realized I
was
starving. I might have even been more hungry than tired.. Without waiting for another word, Ozma brought her hands together, and they began to glow with power. There was something almost alien about her magic; the light she created shimmered with an oily, rainbow sheen, like gasoline leaking across water. It arced upward, drawing the outline of a structure that slowly took shape under her direction. In just a few minutes, Ozma created a big, silk-walled pavilion stretched over a delicate golden frame with wrought filigree at every joint. Gems winked here and there in the framework, and a beautiful flag fluttered from a pole that sprang from the pavilion's highest point.

Inside, a long table was laid with more kinds of food than I'd ever seen in one place in my life—even at one of Dorothy's banquets. An entire roast pig with an apple in its mouth. Platters of fruits, most of which I didn't recognize, and some of which were talking to each other. Baskets of steaming rolls. Tureens of soup, under which tiny fires burned, stoked by tiny figures who carried tiny logs. An enormous platter of desserts: rainbow-frosted
cupcakes dusted with glitter that made me think sadly of Polychrome. A miniature Emerald City, rendered in chocolate, studded with emeralds made out of sugar. A cake in the shape of a dragon that breathed fire. Ozma's post-maybe-defeating-Dorothy banquet was enough food to feed an army.

Which turned out to be a good thing, since Lulu put two fingers between her lips and emitted a piercing whistle. Monkeys bounded up out of nowhere. Lulu had brought her army—or at least, all its surviving members. Ozma giggled as the monkeys flung themselves at the amazing spread with glee. Even Nox and Mombi were laughing.

“Oh dear,” she said, waving her hand, and bunches of bananas popped up at one end of the table. “You'd better eat something fast. They're not going to leave leftovers.”

I didn't need to be told twice. Nox and I waded in among the gleeful monkeys, who were devouring the feast like an army of locusts. I found a plate and began to fill it. I didn't even look to see what I was grabbing. At that point, I would have eaten pretty much anything.

Nox and I took our plates to one corner of the pavilion, where a little table and two comfy chairs appeared with a pop just as we were looking for somewhere to sit.

“Ozma's hospitality sure beats Dorothy's,” I said, sinking gratefully into one of the chairs. A napkin materialized out of thin air and tucked itself discreetly into my collar.

“She doesn't think much of your table manners, apparently,” Nox said with a smirk. I was too tired to do anything about it.

“I don't blame her,” I said. “The way I feel right now, I'll be lucky if I can get half this stuff into my mouth.”

Nox had already dug in, and I followed suit. Everything was delicious. Some things tasted how they looked, and others changed into something else in my mouth. The flavors were all different, but subtly harmonized. It was like eating a symphony.

Ozma hadn't touched the food, and I wondered if fairies had some weird eating disorder or if they just didn't need to eat. I couldn't remember if I'd ever had a meal with her when she was the spaced-out version of herself. After the feast, Ozma snapped her fingers. Table and dishes vanished, and the pavilion began to reconfigure itself into a long hall with dozens of silk-walled rooms flanking it.

“And now, my dear soldiers, it's time to rest,” she said gently. “Tomorrow we work, but tonight we sleep.”

When Ozma had walked away, I leaned in closer to Nox. “We have to figure out a way for me to get back to Kansas and stop the Nome King,” I said in a low voice. He shook his head at me.

“Not here,” he whispered. “It's not safe to talk anywhere near them.” I nodded to show I understood. “Anyway, you need rest,” he said in a normal tone of voice. “We all do.” He took my hand and I rested my forehead on his shoulder. From across the tent, Mombi cleared her throat, and I jerked backward. Nox dropped my hand like it was a hot coal.

“They're watching us,” he said so quietly I almost missed it. I sighed. Nothing was ever simple in Oz.

“Good night,” I said loudly as I stood up and walked away
from him. More than anything, I wanted him to be able to follow me. To let my guard down, just for a night. To fall asleep in someone's arms. But I pushed those thoughts out of my head. I couldn't let the witches suspect that I was going to try to get back to Kansas on my own—or that Nox and I had feelings for each other that went directly against the Quadrant's demands. I was pretty sure Gert couldn't read my thoughts unless I was next to her, but there was no sense in trumpeting my feelings. And Nox was right. More than anything else right now, I needed to sleep.

Pushing aside the curtains and entering one of the little rooms, I saw that it contained a soft, thick mattress piled with pillows and blankets. The magic boots glittered on my feet, but I didn't have any choice but to sleep in them. Besides, I was so tired it didn't matter. I didn't lie down so much as face-plant directly onto the bed. And I'm pretty sure I was fast asleep before my cheek even hit the pillow. Thankfully, I didn't dream.

Late-morning light filtered through the silken tent walls. I stretched and yelped aloud as every battered muscle in my body twinged in protest. My feet were sore and swollen. Despite how deeply I'd slept, I was still exhausted. I could feel the shoes tugging at me, like a house cat butting its head against my palm demanding to be petted.

Nox stuck his head through the curtain that closed off my room. “Hey,” he said softly. “The Quadrant wants to see you.” He crossed the room and sat next to me on the bed. He'd cleaned himself up that morning and I caught a whiff of the rich, sandalwood scent of his skin. Suddenly, I was acutely conscious of my messy hair and unbrushed teeth. But Nox was looking at me like—well, like I was beautiful. I blushed furiously.

“Hi,” I said stupidly.

“Hi.” He smiled.

“Are you ready? I'll take you to them.” I stared up at him,
as dopey as a new puppy. Not letting Gert know how badly I wanted to jump Nox's bones was definitely going to be a serious challenge.

“I—can you—I don't want to risk using the shoes—” Flushing, I pointed to my greasy hair and unwashed face. A look of comprehension dawned on Nox's face. He touched my cheek, and my hair untangled itself into a sleek curtain. The wrinkles fell away from the clothes I'd slept in, the bloodstains vanished, and the tears mended themselves. A minty-fresh taste filled my mouth.

“Thanks,” I said. I followed Nox to where the rest of the Quadrant was waiting in a clearing near Ozma's tent palace.

“We have to talk about the shoes,” Gert said without preamble. “As long as they're on your feet, you're in danger.”

“We're
all
in danger,” Glamora added.

“Their magic belongs with Oz,” Mombi added.

Gert nodded, her warm face creased with worry. “You haven't had them that long. The shoes are too powerful for you to remove them yourself, but we should be able to help you take them off.”

I didn't like the sound of that “should.” And there was something about their faces that sent a sliver of unease through me. I trusted them—more or less—but that didn't mean they weren't working from their own agenda. I'd always known there were limits to how much they told me. Gert, I knew, could hear my doubts, and so I tried to think about something else. Flowers. Kittens. Mochas.

“Lurline told me the shoes would serve me well if I trusted
in their power,” I said. “Without them, I don't think I can use magic at all.”

“Amy, we can't trust anything that came to you from the Nome King,” Glamora said. “The risk is too huge.”

“Maybe Amy's right,” Nox said. I knew he'd had no idea what the witches wanted, or he'd have warned me back in the tent.

“You're not disagreeing with a Quadrant decision, are you?” Glamora snapped.

For a second, none of us spoke. The air was full of tension. I wanted to fight them, but even with the boots I doubted I'd be strong enough. Maybe I could steal the boots back again. Maybe I could find some other way to get home. I didn't like it, but I couldn't stop them if they wanted to overpower me—and I had no doubt they'd do it.

“Will it hurt?” I asked. “When you take them off, I mean.”

“It might,” Mombi said. Glamora shot her a look. “What?” the old witch grumbled. “She should know what she's getting into.” Unexpectedly, she looked at me with sympathy. “We know you've been through a lot, Amy. I'm sorry to ask one more thing of you. We wouldn't do it if we didn't think the shoes could end up hurting you.”

“Ready for us to try?” Gert asked. I nodded. Nox gave me an anxious look, but he joined hands with the rest of the Quadrant.

The witches closed their eyes and began to chant softly. At first, nothing changed. And then my feet started to feel warm. The boots' glow intensified into a radiant white light that hurt my eyes. The heat got more and more excruciating, and
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry. I could feel myself floating into the air and hovering a few inches above the ground.

The chanting grew louder and then stopped. The witches' magic surrounded me, probing at my feet and legs like dozens of strong arms poking and prodding me. When Mombi had said this might hurt, she wasn't kidding. I'd had to go to the dentist when I was a kid to get three cavities filled at once, and I had the same powerless feeling. Knowing that what was happening was supposed to be good for me didn't make it feel any better. Anger flooded through me. I couldn't help it. I was
tired
. Tired of fighting, tired of hurting, tired of all this pain and death and doing the right thing for the wrong people. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to go the hell back to bed. I could feel the tidal wave of fury rising up in me, the same anger that had turned me into a literal monster once before. My feet were on fire.

“I want it to stop!” I yelled, and a wave of power burst out of me like water crashing through a dam. Mombi, Gert, Glamora, and Nox were thrown backward across the clearing. My fingernails lengthened into claws, my arms rippled with muscle. “Leave me ALONE!” I roared through a mouthful of jagged teeth. And then I felt a gentle, cooling surge of magic from the boots. Reminding me of who I was. Not a monster. Not under Oz's control. Just Amy Gumm, a girl trying to save her family. The monster's talons retracted back into my fingers. I pushed myself upright from where I'd crouched on all fours as the witches picked themselves up and brushed themselves off. Nox
looked stunned. Glamora looked thoughtful.

“Well, then,” she said. “I guess we'll have to find a different way to free you from the shoes.”

Mombi was looking at me with an unmistakable expression of worry. I knew they thought I was dangerous. I didn't blame them. But they wouldn't do anything to hurt me. Not yet anyway. I wished I could talk to Nox, but there was no safe way to do it.

“Fine,” I said. Let them think I'd given in. Let them think I was willing to give up the shoes as soon as they found a way to get them off my feet. I'd figure something out. I always did. “I'm going back to bed.” I didn't look back at the witches when I left.

The next few days were a bustle of activity. When Ozma had insisted the coronation be held on the site of the Emerald Palace, I'd been pretty dubious. Why not start over somewhere that wasn't a former battleground? The scarred wasteland looked worse than post-tornado Dusty Acres, and the city itself was in even more terrible shape. But the land had significance for her. And for Oz. And Ozma, with the help of the Wicked, went immediately into full cleanup mode. First, she deputized a handful of Lulu's monkeys as messengers and sent them out to all the corners of Oz with the news that Dorothy had been defeated and the coronation was coming. Joyful citizens of Oz came pouring into the city, eager to help rebuild. At all hours of the day and night the streets were full of Munchkins, Winkies, Pixies, and talking animals industriously carting wheelbarrows of debris
back and forth, carefully repaving the streets with salvaged gemstones, and repairing the buildings that were still standing. Ozma and the Wicked—Nox included—devoted their energy to constructing an elaborate tent city where the palace had stood and carefully coaxing the ruined gardens back to life. The monkeys busied themselves in the remaining trees, hanging streamers and lights and an elaborate network of bridges and platforms, with Lulu barking orders from the ground like a drill sergeant.

I helped where I could, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It had all happened so suddenly that Dorothy's defeat hadn't really sunk in, but everyone else in Oz seemed to think it was totally normal that a tyrant had been defeated, the old queen had been reinstated, and the Emerald Palace had been completely destroyed.

The morning of the coronation was as sunny and clear as every other day had been since Dorothy's defeat. Ozma herself was directing the final touches: a small army of Munchkins was busy cooking an enormous feast. Pixies fluttered about from tree to tree, hanging streamers and long strands of glass balls that must have been some kind of decoration. Mombi, Gert, Glamora, and Nox were busy putting the last details on the newly planted, magic-enhanced gardens. They were still a far cry from the splendor that had once surrounded the Emerald Palace, but they were a lot better than the wasteland they replaced.

Dorothy's surviving ex-soldiers had shown up for the party, too. At first I was startled to see the mangled, mechanized figures as they wheeled and creaked around, and the other Ozians
gave them a wide berth, too. But they made themselves indispensable, helping with heavy lifting and the most unglamorous tasks, like doing dishes and cleaning up. They, at least, had been through even worse than me. I remembered the Scarecrow's laboratory, and shuddered.

Finally, it was time to get ready. Ozma had set up a bathing tent that was as luxurious as a fancy spa. Big, claw-foot bathtubs were curtained off with walls of pale, billowing silk. As soon as I entered one of the rooms, invisible hands turned on the taps, and the tub filled with steaming, scented water as a pile of thick towels materialized next to me. I'd no sooner taken off my clothes and climbed into the tub than the same invisible presence began to briskly lather my scalp with a floral shampoo. “No thanks,” I told it. “I think I'd rather do it myself.” I thought I heard a sulky little sigh, but the hands withdrew, and I knew I was alone.

I stayed in the bathtub for a long time, magic boots and all (turns out they were waterproof), dreading the night ahead. I'd never been much for parties, and big banquets still reminded me of those awful days when I'd pretended to be one of Dorothy's maids. I remembered what she'd done to Jellia, and a chill ran through me despite the hot bathwater. I was going to have to get a grip if I wanted to make it through the night, but I couldn't let go of all the pain and suffering I'd seen. Maybe people in Oz were more used to it and that was why they could get over it so quickly, but before I'd come here Madison Pendleton had been about the worst thing I'd experienced. Well, that and my mom's addiction. I splashed my face angrily with hot water and stood
up, sloshing bathwater over the sides of the tub. A towel floated into the air and wrapped itself around me. “Oh, fine,” I sighed, stepping out of the tub. If it was possible for an invisible handmaid to towel me off smugly, mine did.

While I'd dozed in the tub, a rich, embroidered dress had been laid out on a chair next to the rack of towels. I looked at it in dismay. I'd feel like an idiot in a ball gown, even at Ozma's coronation. I hadn't worn a dress in months. “Maybe something else, please?” I said politely to the air. There was a frosty silence, and then the elaborately beaded and sewn dress disappeared and was replaced with a maid's uniform. I laughed. “No, come on,” I said aloud. The maid's uniform vanished, and finally a plain but pretty dress appeared. I picked it up. It was made of a soft, gray material that felt like clouds, and it was simply cut and unembellished. “That's perfect,” I said. “Thank you.” I heard a little sniff of disapproval, and hid a smile.

Outside, twilight had fallen. I gasped when I saw the open space at the heart of the tent city where Ozma would be crowned. The glass globes the Pixies had hung were filled with tiny, glowing insects that cast a beautiful amber light over the new gardens. Tendrilly vines, heavy with sweet-smelling white flowers, reached up into the warm air and climbed around a canopy the monkeys had erected, creating a high, broad pavilion of blossoms. The citizens of Oz were already beginning to assemble in respectful rows, looking solemn and happy. Lulu's ball gown was so heavy with rhinestones I saw her as a dazzling blur from a hundred yards away. The rest of the monkeys all wore neatly
cut suits—surprisingly dignified, I thought. Even Dorothy's former soldiers had done their best to dress up. Their metal parts were polished to a blinding glow that reflected the lamplight, and their furry bodies were brushed to a shine.

“You look beautiful, Amy.” Nox was walking toward me. He looked amazing; he'd let Ozma's invisible handmaidens deck him out in a well-cut and closely fitted suit that looked equal parts James Bond and millionaire, like he was headed to a super-fancy dinner but wasn't too overdressed to take out a couple of villains if he had to—which, actually, was true. Instead of looking silly, the purple cloak on top made him look like a prince. His longish dark hair was slicked back, which only emphasized his high cheekbones. He'd even found dress shoes.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, looking at my own diamond-studded boots. They were out of place in Oz, but they felt exactly right to me. Besides, with my cool gray granny dress the whole effect was kind of nineties. All I needed was a velvet choker.

And then I realized it: now was our chance. Finally, we were alone. But as soon as I opened my mouth, I saw Glamora swooping down on us, grinning like she'd PermaSmiled herself. “Nox! Amy! Are you ready?” she cooed.

From behind her came a voice I hadn't heard in what felt like years. “You clean up nice, Amy.” Ollie! And his sister, Maude, was at his side. I swooped in and gave them both hugs. I hadn't seen them since Mombi had made me leave them behind in the Queendom of the Wingless Ones.

But there was no time now for catching up. The sound of
trumpets cut through the air, and Nox gave me a helpless look. I followed him and Glamora across the newly planted lawn.

Ozma stood at the far end of the canopy of flowers, dressed in a simple white silk shift that spilled in shimmering waves to her feet. Her long black hair was bound up with more of the huge, fragrant white blossoms. Her glorious gold-veined wings fluttered behind her. She looked tall, and beautiful, and radiant, and wise. She looked every inch a queen. Tiny Pixies buzzed through the air, carrying more of the luminous glass globes. A line of monkeys holding sunfruit lamps was arranged on either side of a long, richly decorated carpet that unrolled to Ozma's feet. At its opposite end, Lulu stood in her amazingly jewel-encrusted dress, holding a delicate golden crown with the word
OZ
spelled out in a curlicued font. I found a place next to Nox at the back of the audience. The trumpets sounded their final notes, and the crowd fell into an expectant hush.