Authors: Danielle Paige
“Nox,” he said. “Please. There’s no need for formality in the kitchen.” And he smiled at me again—a real smile this time, winning and full of charm. I couldn’t help myself; I smiled back.
Dorothy’s palace in the Emerald City had gardens far grander than Glinda’s, though never in a million years would I have been dumb enough to point that out. Even so, Glinda’s gardens were nothing to sneeze at. A little heavy on the pink flowers for my taste, of course—rows and rows of sweet-smelling singing roses in a dozen variations of the shade; towering pink lilac trees, which released visible puffs of perfumed smoke at intervals; an orchard full of pink-barked trees, each of which bore a different pink fruit: peaches, apples, hot-pink pomegranates (points for creativity, I guess, even if not for realism). There were even tiny pink flowers that covered the winding paths through the decorative portion of the gardens like a carpet, and when you stepped on them, they shot out little jets of pink glitter. By the time I got back to the kitchen I was going to look like a disco ball.
It took me a while to find the vegetable garden, which was more or less hidden behind a low, pink brick wall, and which bore little resemblance to the rest of the landscaping. The plants here had a distinctly practical feel: unlike the rest of the gardens, which were beautiful but obviously designed to cater to Glinda’s unnatural passion for pink, these more humble rows of vegetables and herbs were comforting in their hominess.
I’d been so young when my parents died that I had no memory of them. All I knew was what Ozma had told me: that I’d been born in a small village in the Oz countryside, to people who were too humble to leave me anything other than my name. Ozma had taken me in because I had no other family and nowhere else to go.
Wandering the rows of the vegetable garden, I wondered if my own parents had grown food like this; if maybe they’d sat down every night to a dinner of crisp green lettuce and ruby-red tomatoes pulled from the earth just moments earlier. I rarely thought about my parents—what good did it do me to wonder?—but for a moment in Glinda’s garden I stopped to consider what my life might have been like if they hadn’t died. Maybe I’d be out in the countryside somewhere, lying in a field napping underneath the warm sun, or reading a book. Maybe my life would be my own, not Dorothy’s. But thinking like that was useless, and bound to get me nowhere. There was no point in crying about it. My life was what it was. There was no way I’d ever get away from Glinda, or Dorothy, or whatever they had in store for Oz.
I was lucky to even
have
a job; since Dorothy came back, there were rumors of Munchkins going hungry for the first time in Oz’s history. The winged monkeys were little more than zombies these days, only too eager to obey whatever the Tin Woodman ordered them to do—even if it meant harassing innocent citizens. Some of the servants at the palace talked about friends and relatives who were out of work—something that had never happened before in our history. It was like Dorothy had brought some terrible disease with her from the Other Place, one you couldn’t see.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of such dark thoughts. There was nothing I could do to solve Oz’s problems from Glinda’s garden. And it was such a relief to be outside, alone, with the sun on my shoulders and the trilling of birdsong in my ears. As Dorothy’s head maid, I’d had little time to myself in the Emerald City, and I’d imagined that Glinda would be watching me like a hawk out here. But Nox had given me the gift of a morning out from under her scrutiny, and I was determined not to let a second of it go to waste.
When I had filled my basket to Nox’s specifications I went out of the vegetable garden back into the flower garden. Despite the overwhelming influence of Glinda’s dubious taste, it was still a beautiful place on a sunny morning. I sat with my back against one of the fruit trees and closed my eyes. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep out here, but surely no one would notice if I took a moment to rest before I went back inside to face whatever Glinda had in store for me next.
Suddenly, the sinister, dulcet tones of Glinda’s voice cut through the serene air, and I froze in terror. “Of course, we’re so delighted to see you,” she trilled.
How had she found me out here? Had Nox sent her after me? Why hadn’t she just used the bird pin megaphone? I flung myself up against the nearest tree, my heart pounding, as she continued.
“We have so much to discuss, my
dear
friend . . .” I craned my neck around the tree, desperately hoping she couldn’t see. She obviously wasn’t talking to me, and I didn’t recognize the little man at her side. But in an instant, I knew exactly who he was.
The Wizard
, I thought.
Glinda strolled casually through her pink pom-pom of a garden, the Wizard by her side. He was dressed snappily in a brocade suit with a top hat, and he carried a silver-tipped cane that he swung as he walked. Though they were a ways away, and thankfully the tree hid me from their view, I could hear most of what she was saying. “. . . and of course I’m certain Dorothy and I would be only too happy to work with you to clarify a vision of Oz’s future, if only we knew something more about your intentions. I know things ended on a . . .
difficult
note during your last visit to the palace, but there’s no reason to continue what I know was simply a terrible misunderstanding. Dorothy is just torn up about it. As, of course, am I.”
Glinda’s voice was so sweet it was practically dripping syrup, but even from where I was sitting I could hear the steely resolve underneath her words. The Wizard made a noncommittal noise and Glinda tried again. “I mean, you haven’t even told us how long you plan to
be
in Oz!” she cooed, adding a giggle for effect that sounded more sinister than flirtatious.
What on earth was the Wizard doing here—and what could he possibly want with Glinda and Dorothy? I quickly refocused my attention as his words carried across the garden.
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty to discuss,” he was saying. “But as you know, the well-being of Oz is of utmost importance to me. It remains to be seen whether Dorothy is the leader we need in this difficult time.”
“Certainly she’s young,” Glinda interrupted smoothly, “but she was clever enough to defeat you, Wizard, with all due respect. And please, you can’t imagine she’s to be the true leader of Oz. That role has always fallen to those with real power. She’s simply a heroine of the people. They cherish her. They’re only too happy to obey her every command. But make no mistake, my dear friend, those commands come from me.”
The Wizard laughed. “Dorothy’s arrival was . . . foreseen, Glinda. But do not make the mistake of underestimating her. I know you think you control her, but she most certainly has plans of her own—and she’s far more dangerous than you can imagine. And what’s this I hear of your magic mining? You know Oz doesn’t have the infrastructure to support that kind of a power draw. In fact—”
They were moving away from me and though I strained so hard to hear the rest of what he was saying I nearly fell over, his words were unintelligible. I sat back against my tree, my mind racing. I hadn’t heard enough to tell me much, but it seemed more than possible that my initial assumption about the Wizard was wrong.
He hadn’t seemed pleased with Glinda at all—and her own wheedling, ingratiating tone suggested she was well aware of the fact. Were they working together, or was she trying to convince him to side with her? What did it mean if he’d been in Oz all along? Were they double-crossing Dorothy—or was he double-crossing Dorothy
and
Glinda? And it seemed pretty clear that Glinda really was trying to steal Oz’s magic. Whatever was going on, it was definitely something big. And maybe I didn’t want to know the answer. It was far easier to be a servant girl, oblivious to the political machinations of the real powers of Oz. What could I do to stop them?
And then I had a sudden, terrible image of Ozma, wandering with unseeing eyes through the halls of Dorothy’s palace, and my heart sank all the way into my scuffed boots. Who was I kidding? Of course I cared. If there was anything I could do to help Ozma, to turn her back into the vibrant, powerful, generous ruler she’d once been . . . Well, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t give to have the palace back the way it should be. And when you got right down to it, that meant no Dorothy. And no so-called Good Witch, either.
I’d been in the garden for a long time, and even though Nox had cut me a break this morning, I didn’t want to push my luck. I picked up my basket, looked around one last time to make sure Glinda and the Wizard were out of sight, and hurried back to the kitchen.
Nox was there, more or less where I’d left him, although now instead of going over the schedule he was overseeing the decoration of four enormous pink cakes that the Munchkins must have baked that morning. Each cake had been frosted in a slightly different shade of pastel pink, and a young Munchkin baker was painstakingly creating elaborate portraits of Glinda on each one—a radiantly beautiful Glinda holding a bouquet of enormous pink roses; Glinda, looking benevolent, distributing pink cupcakes to beaming Munchkin children; Glinda with a festive background of fireworks and a cheering crowd; Glinda reclining on her immense pink bed, looking sultry.
The portraits were so detailed they looked as though she was about to spring to life. I gave an involuntary shiver. Nox looked up as I came into the kitchen and set my basket on the counter, careful not to jostle the surface and upset the Munchkin’s work.
“That last one seems a little scandalous,” I said without thinking. Nox raised an eyebrow at me and the Munchkin looked startled. “Nice pictures, though,” I added to the Munchkin. It wasn’t his fault Glinda was a power-hungry despot trying to suck Oz dry of all its magic. He was just trying to do his job and stay alive.
“Remember what I told you yesterday?” Nox asked in a warning tone.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m just feeling a little revolutionary, I guess.” The Munchkin dropped his container of frosting and stared at me in fear, and Nox’s eyes widened. He rounded the table and grabbed my arm.
“That’s enough,” he hissed in my ear. I shook him off angrily.
“No, you know what’s enough?” I snarled at him. “This charade is enough. Glinda is destroying Oz, and you know it. We can’t let her get away with this! She’s the one who’s making Dorothy into a monster, and she’s the one who’s stealing our ma—” Nox clapped a hand over my mouth and wrapped his other arm around me.
“I said that’s
enough
,” he snapped. The Munchkin was staring at us, his mouth open. “Get back to work,” Nox told him. “I’ll deal with this. Understood?” The Munchkin nodded, turning back to his cake. Nox dragged me outside into the hallway.
“Listen to me, and listen carefully,” he said in a low voice. “Talking like that will get you killed, do you understand? I know you don’t understand why—I know I haven’t been able to tell you everything. But you can’t die. We need you.”
“So that’s why you’ve taken an interest in my welfare?” I was suddenly furious. “I can’t die because you
need
me? For some mysterious cause? I don’t even know what the cause
is
, Nox! I just know Glinda has some kind of crazy, sinister plan for me, and I have magic I don’t understand, and what if Glinda tries to put me back into that terrible machine, and . . .”
“Look,” he said so quietly I had to strain to hear him. “I know. Believe me, I know. I’m on your side, Jellia. But you can’t draw attention to yourself like that. You’re risking your life. You need to be strategic.” He looked as if he was struggling with a decision, and then he sighed. “There are other forces at work here you don’t know about. Just—you’re not the only one in Oz who feels this way, Jellia. Be patient.”
“Don’t tell me to be patient,” I retorted, and then I thought about what he’d just said. “Wait, do you mean the Wizard?”
His gaze sharpened and he pulled me in again. “What do you know about the Wizard?”
“He’s here. I saw him. In the garden with Glinda.” He looked around, his eyes wide, as if checking to see if the Wizard were standing behind us, but the hallway was empty.
“Tell me everything,” he said. “But not here. It’s not safe. Meet me—” He stopped, thinking. “Meet me in the garden. At sunset.”
“Why should I trust you? Why do you even want to know?”
He laughed. “You shouldn’t trust me. You shouldn’t trust anyone in this palace. But I give you my word that I’m on your side. You’ll have to decide for yourself if that’s enough. I can tell you more tonight.”
The tiny bird clipped to my dress let loose with a piercing shriek and we jumped apart. “Jellia!” Glinda cooed, her voice so loud I wanted to clap my hands over my ears. “I need you at once, Jellia!” I stared at Nox, my heart beating hard.
“You’d better go,” he said, his face worried.
“Do you think she—”
“I don’t know. You have to be careful, Jellia. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I’ll try.”
“Do better than that.” The concern in his voice was genuine, I was sure of it.
“No promises,” I said, and then Glinda’s magic yanked me away from the hallway. The last I saw of him was his handsome features twisted into a mask of worry.
Glinda was in her chambers, in a terrible temper—I could only guess because of the way things had gone that morning with the Wizard. She’d torn through her closet in a fit of pique, and the floor of her room was strewn with ball gowns and high-heeled shoes and gem-studded necklaces. “Pick that up,” she said as soon as I materialized in her room, dizzy and nauseous from the spell she’d used to transport me through the palace. She sat on her bed huffily and watched as I obediently collected the dresses off the floor and hung them carefully in her huge closet.
She was wearing a revealing gown that plunged deeply, showing a considerable amount of cleavage, and her soft strawberry-blond hair hung loose around her shoulders. Her pretty features had a childish set to them, and she looked more like a sulky teenager than a terrifying witch.