Heart Of Tin Part 1

Heart of Tin.

Danielle Paige.

ONE.

People say I'm heartless-pretty ironic, when you think about it. I've heard the rumors, the back talk. I know what goes on behind closed doors, and not just because I have spies everywhere in Oz. But that's not the whole story, not by a long shot. My problem, when you get right down to it, was that all I ever wanted was love.

Think about the first time you really fell in love. No, I mean, really think about it. How it was like your whole life before that moment was a black-and-white movie, and suddenly you stepped into Technicolor. (We don't have that stuff in Oz, but Dorothy's told me about it.) Now imagine the moment you fell in love was also the moment you got a heart-I mean, literally.

I'd had a heart back in the day, and thought I was in love, too. And then I'd lost both heart and girlfriend, thanks to one h.e.l.l of a wicked witch, and I a.s.sumed I'd never have the chance to love again. Before Dorothy won me a new heart I could only listen to people talk about what it was like, while knowing I'd never again feel the same way, cry the same tears, experience the same joy. I thought I'd have to spend my whole life that way, in an empty colorless world, only able to imagine the kinds of experiences everyone else took for granted. Not just falling in love, but the whole package. The giddy first moments, the blowout fights-because you can only get really mad if you really care-getting to a place with someone where you can't imagine your life anymore without them.

That was never going to be for me.

And then Dorothy got here, and everything changed. Not just for all of Oz. For me. Everything I thought I knew about love-well, Dorothy rewrote the book. I thought I had been in love before her, but I didn't even know what the word meant. Dorothy didn't just give me a new heart. She gave me a new life.

So you can say what you want about the decisions I've made and the things I've done. Sure, there are some things I'm not proud of. It's possible I've even made a few mistakes. Even when I didn't have a heart, I was always a compa.s.sionate person. I don't like to see others suffer, even when it's necessary. I'm not like Scare; I don't thrive on the pain of others. And now that I have my heart-the heart that belongs to Dorothy-I know my own worth. I don't need to make other people feel small in order to boost my own ego. I do important things every day. I'm in charge of the safety of Oz, and I take my job seriously. It's actually pretty fulfilling, if you want to know the truth. I think I have a real gift. But the important thing, the thing you have to remember, is that everything I did-the good stuff, the bad stuff, and the stuff in between-was out of love. Judge all you want, but I bet you'd have trouble saying the same thing about your own life. I want that down on the record. All of it, everything, the whole shebang: it was for her.

It all started the moment Dorothy returned to Oz. She wasn't from our world, and we-the Scarecrow, the Lion, and I-knew that she'd want to go home. After she went back to Kansas, the three of us went our separate ways. The Lion, off to rule as the King of Beasts in the forest. The Scarecrow back to the Emerald City, of course, to take the Wizard's place as ruler of Oz. And for me it was back to the land of the furry little Winkies, where Glinda sent me to replace the Wicked Witch of the West as their ruler. The Winkies were a peaceful, dull people, and I had a lot of time to spend thinking about how much I missed Dorothy. About the last time I'd seen her, her face wet with tears as she kissed me good-bye. She'd hugged the Scarecrow, patted the Lion on the head-but me, she had kissed, sobbing all the while, and even though my cheeks rusted a little where her tears had stained them I left the marks to remind me of her.

Dorothy, goodness incarnate, with her sweet face and her little checked dress and her cute dog and her picnic basket. Dorothy saw the best in all of us from the start. Each of the three of us was missing some crucial piece of ourselves, and she never cared. She loved us for what we were. And once the Wizard placed that tiny new piece of magic in the empty s.p.a.ce inside my chest, and I could feel its power fill me with a love even stronger than the kind I'd known when I was an ordinary man, I knew that there was only one woman for me: Dorothy Gale, the savior of Oz.

So when I heard she was back, I just about lost it. I was staring out the window of my throne room in the Winkies' palace when one of the house Winkies knocked at the door. "Your Majesty," he said politely, adjusting his suspenders, "a messenger from the Emerald City has arrived." The messenger was a Munchkin, on the tall and skinny side for one of his people. His ink-black hair fell into his eyes, and he kept pushing it out of the way awkwardly.

"Your esteemed, uh, Highness?" the Munchkin began, stumbling over the t.i.tle.

"That's right," I said. The Winkies might not be much, but I was still their king. And a pretty good one, too. Those people loved me. Just ask them. Well, maybe don't ask them now. But if you'd asked them then, I'm sure they'd have said I was a vast improvement over the Wicked Witch.

The Munchkin bowed sloppily, cleared his throat, inhaled deeply, and recited his entire message in one breath. "HergloriousnessthealmightyOzmarequestsyourpresenceatacelebrationhonoringthereturnofourbelovedliberatorDorothywhohascomeback-" My heart, silk pillow though it may have been, skipped a beat in my chest.

"Wait," I interrupted, and the Munchkin used the opportunity to take another huge breath. I kept talking before he could recite his stream of babble again. "Did you say-did you just say that Dorothy is back?" He looked confused for a moment. Obviously independent thought was not part of the job description.

"Er, yes," he said finally.

"Dorothy is here? In Oz?" My heart was racing. All this time I'd spent, daydreaming of just such an occasion, never daring to hope my desperate wish would actually come true, and now everything I'd ever wanted was finally within reach? "Where is she?"

"She's, uh, at the Emerald Palace," the Munchkin said, tacking on a hasty "sir" when I frowned. The tin plates of my face squeak when I smile or scowl, and sometimes it unnerves people. I used to feel bad about it. These days, it comes in handy. "That was the rest of the message," he added, looking sulky. "But you cut me off."

I ignored him. "But I must leave at once," I said, thinking out loud. "I must-I must-WINKIES!" I bellowed, and a flood of my subjects scrambled into the room, tumbling over themselves in their haste to answer my call. "Prepare my things! Bring my finest oilcan and dress my joints! Ready my carriage! I will be leaving for the Emerald City on the hour!"

"The party's tomorrow," the Munchkin mumbled. With an imperious wave, I dismissed him. I was so excited I didn't even care that he forgot to bow when he left my throne room. Dorothy-my Dorothy, the most beautiful girl in this world or any other, the kindest and the most good, she of the magical slippers and perfect pout, was back. Was it possible-could it be-that she'd come back for me? Did she remember the kiss she'd given me when we both thought we'd never see each other again? Was there a chance that I could finally have the happiness I'd longed for all those days in my palace-that I could finally have her?

TWO.

I was so distracted that I barely even noticed the journey to the Emerald City. I hadn't left my palace in months, but I didn't even see the scenery of Oz as it flashed by. I couldn't stop thinking about seeing her again. When we drove through the jewel-encrusted gates of the Emerald City, I thought my heart would stop beating altogether. I couldn't stop thinking about Dorothy. What would I say to her? How could I possible tell her the depth of my feelings? "You are my sun, my moon, my starlit sky," I said aloud, trying it out.

"Pardon, sir? Are you asking about the weather?" called the Winkie coachman.

"Mind your own business!" I snapped. "Your lips are like a rose," I muttered under my breath. "Your breath like tulips-oh no, that's awful." Overcome by despair, I got out of the carriage the moment we pulled up in front of the palace, accidentally slamming the door in the coachman's face in my haste.

The palace was a hive of activity-Munchkins bustling back and forth, visiting dignitaries who'd arrived ahead of me thronging the halls in their finest dress, Nomes and Pixies gibbering delightedly in the corners. Tiny, buzzing globes of light swirled through the hallways, occasionally crashing into a wall and exploding into a shower of daisy petals. A plate of pastries sailed down one hall, floating on a current of chocolate-scented air as pa.s.sersby s.n.a.t.c.hed snacks. The last member of a small parade of Munchkins carrying a bundle of streamers down the hall tripped over a trailing bit of crepe paper and tumbled to the ground, sending the rest of the Munchkins falling like a line of dominoes. The bundle of streamers gathered itself into the shape of a giant bird and flapped toward the ceiling, cackling hysterically, as cursing Munchkins chased after it. I even caught the briefest glimpse of Ozma herself, drifting down a hallway in a wispy black dress with a long, lacy train, but Dorothy herself was nowhere to be seen, and when I moved to run after Ozma a Munchkin servant stopped me. "Welcome to the palace, sir," he said gravely. "I shall show you to your chambers."

"I want to see Dorothy," I snarled, and the intensity of my voice was such that it startled both of us. "I must see Dorothy."

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, sounding a little less certain. "Dorothy's guests must wait until the banquet tomorrow night."

"I'm not her guest," I said. "I'm her dearest friend. Don't you know who I am?"

"Of course, Sir Woodman," he replied. "But I'm afraid there are no exceptions. Even the palace staff don't know where Dorothy is right now. She's asked not to be disturbed while she prepares for the celebration." I realized that badgering him wouldn't get me anywhere.

"Very well," I said. "You may show me to my rooms."

The last time I'd been in the palace it had been under the Wizard's control. The guest rooms then had been nice enough, but Ozma had clearly had them all redone. The ceiling of my room was high, the bed enormous. The windows were paned with green-tinted gla.s.s-an homage, most likely, to her predecessor. In the bathroom, fluffy green towels unfolded and floated in the air, singing a soothing lullaby when I entered, and the bath began to fill itself with sweet-scented water foaming with green bubbles. A green rubber duck popped into existence, sending green droplets flying into the air.

"I won't be needing that, but thank you," I told it, and obediently the water drained out of the tub and the duck vanished. I sat cautiously on the bed, hoping the oil from my joints wouldn't stain the soft coverlet. I wanted to make the best possible impression. At home, I preferred to sleep upright in a wooden cabinet.

Dorothy would want to see me right away, of course. Why else had she invited me? It would only be a matter of moments before she'd come to my chambers herself.

But she didn't. The only possible explanation was that she didn't know I was in the palace, and so the next morning I oiled my joints quickly and made sure the tin of my face and chest was brightly polished before I set out in search of her. I cornered the first Munchkin I saw-this one cleaning an already-sparkling window with a bucket of water in which several small, brightly colored fish swam about cheerfully. "I must get a message to Dorothy at once," I burst out. She turned around in surprise.

"Who-" she began, and then she recognized me and her irritated expression changed to a smile. She gave a little curtsy. "Oh, h.e.l.lo, sir. I wish I could help you, but-"

"You have to understand how important this is. Dorothy has to be informed that I'm here! I must see her!"

Now she just looked confused. "But sir," she said politely, "Dorothy does know you're here. She's aware of all the guests that have arrived. Would you like to see the Scarecrow or the Lion while you wait for the banquet tonight? They got to the palace just yesterday as well." I gaped at her. Dorothy knew I was here? But why hadn't she sent for me? The servant looked at me almost pityingly. "I know Dorothy and Her Majesty, Ozma, have been very busy preparing for the banquet," she added. "I'm afraid I can't help you, sir." She turned back to her window.

What could Dorothy possibly be doing to prepare for a banquet that was so important that she couldn't see me? I thought about looking for the Scarecrow or the Lion, but it was Dorothy I was desperate to see and I didn't want to share my disappointment with anyone. How could she possibly have failed to summon me if she already knew I was at the palace? Was there a chance she didn't want to see me as badly as I wanted to see her? Surely not-but nevertheless, doubt began to creep in at the corners of my mind. In dismay, I returned to my chambers, where I summoned the Winkie coachman and spent the afternoon with him playing chess. I was so distracted I kept thinking we were playing checkers instead, and the pieces obligingly transformed from rooks and p.a.w.ns to checkers counters. The coachman let me win anyway.

Finally, it was time to get ready for the banquet. I carefully re-oiled my joints and summoned a maid to polish me to a blinding glow. When she could see her own reflection in my patchworked tin chest, she curtsied and began to leave, but I stopped her. "You are my sun, my moon, my starlit sky!" I proclaimed, testing the words' effect.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" the maid asked politely.

"Oh, it's hopeless," I said miserably, sinking into a chair and burying my face in my tin palms. "Absolutely hopeless. I don't know how to tell her. I don't know the right thing to say."

"To whom, sir?"

"To Dorothy," I mumbled into my fingers. "It has to be exactly right, so that she knows how I feel, but it can't sound desperate-she has to see me as dashing, and I want to remind her of everything we shared, and tell her how beautiful she is, and how special, and how n.o.ble and generous and sweet and good and-"

The maid pulled up another chair. "If you don't mind some advice, sir," she said, "that's an awful lot to try to fit into one h.e.l.lo. Why don't you just be yourself?"

I lifted my head and stared at her. "What do you mean, be myself?"

"Well," she said reasonably, "you had all sorts of travels together, didn't you? It's the stuff of legend, sir. Everyone in Oz knows about how you and Miss Dorothy and the Scarecrow and the Lion defeated the Wizard and sent him away, and liberated the Winkies, and how honorably Dorothy behaved to the winged monkeys, and all of that. You're a n.o.ble figure, sir. You're a king and a soldier and I think Dorothy would have to be an awfully silly girl not to be impressed by all of that. So just be yourself. If it's meant to be, it'll be."

"But what if it's not meant to be?" I asked her. "How do I convince her?"

"That's just not how it works, sir. You can't convince people of feelings they don't have. But you'll know, I'm sure you will. From the way she looks at you. She's a smart girl, that Dorothy; she couldn't have saved Oz otherwise. She won't beat around the bush if she has feelings for you, too. Anyway, you look very handsome."

This little maid was the most sensible person I had talked to in months. "That's very good advice," I said. "Thank you, you've been a big help. What's your name?"

"Jellia, sir."

"Well, Jellia, perhaps you'll keep this conversation to yourself." She winked at me and made a zippering motion over her lips.

"What conversation, sir?" she asked.

The ballroom was packed. All of Oz, it seemed, had turned out to witness our savior's return. A huge orchestra, set up at the far end of the enormous hall, played cheery waltzes. Rainbow-colored b.u.t.terflies fluttered gaily over the instruments, sending showers of confetti swirling through the air. My old friends the Scarecrow and the Lion were there, of course. The Scarecrow was dressed in a new suit chosen for the occasion, and the Lion's fur had been brushed to a burnished golden glow. The Scarecrow caught sight of me first, and waved merrily. I crossed the crowded room, making my way through throngs of Ozians decked out in their finest clothes, to greet my old friend. "You made it!" he shouted over the noise, clapping me on the back and shaking my hand. The Lion roared his approval, sending a brief tremor of fear through the nearest partygoers before they realized who was doing the roaring. I wondered briefly if the Scarecrow was resentful-after all, not too long ago, this palace had been his. But if he was upset to have been deposed by Ozma, he didn't show it. Of course, his face was painted on, so his expressions were sometimes hard to read. Anyway, as happy as I was to see them, I had larger matters on my mind than catching up. "Have you seen her?" I asked the Scarecrow frantically. "Where is she? Is she here?" He gave me a long, strange, startled look.

"It's good to see you, too," he said, laughing. "Tin, what on earth? We haven't seen each other in ages, and-" A hush fell over the throng, and I knew at once that she had arrived. My stuffed heart in my throat, I turned to face the ballroom's grand entrance.

The sweet-faced girl I remembered was gone, replaced by a woman so beautiful that I nearly wept. Her dress was of the same blue gingham that she'd worn during her last sojourn in Oz, but it was cut to flatter her figure, and ended inches above her knees. It was st.i.tched with gold thread that sent dazzling rays of light across the room and left bare her long, pale legs. Instead of the silver slippers she'd left Oz in, she wore a towering pair of glittering red heels that shone so brightly that they drowned out all the other light sources in the room, pulsing slightly as if in time to the pattern of her breath.

After a moment I noticed the people at her side: a frumpy old couple, looking lost and out of place, who could only be the Aunt Em and Uncle Henry she'd spoken of so fondly when she was last in Oz. But these humble people could hardly be related to the glorious creature whose radiant smile dominated the whole room. Dear little Toto yapped happily at Dorothy's heels, oblivious to the power radiating from her shoes. And of course, Ozma stood behind Dorothy with an expression that looked almost . . . disapproving. Like all of us, she must have realized that tired old Aunt Em and Uncle Henry had no place here. But if they were with Dorothy, did that mean she had returned for good?

Dorothy moved through the joyous crowd, greeting old friends and new ones with the same grace. She was as regal as a queen. I waited for her to catch sight of me, preparing myself to hold her in my arms at last. But as she approached, the Scarecrow ran to Dorothy and swept her up in his arms, tossing her into the air as she shrieked with joy. The band struck up a waltz and they whirled together across the purple-lit dance floor. I knew he had no idea of the depth of my feelings for Dorothy, but I couldn't help staring after them in a frenzy of jealousy nonetheless.

At last, as if he could feel the force of my gaze burning a hole through his head, he danced Dorothy back to me. I had been waiting for this moment for so long, but all the flowery words I'd prepared vanished. I remembered what the maid had told me-just be yourself. But now that I was actually holding Dorothy in my arms, I could barely even manage to stutter a h.e.l.lo. Up close, her beauty was even more stunning, more astonishing. There was a new light in her eyes and her cheeks were flushed. The air around her crackled with magic. There was no mistaking this Dorothy for the child who had left me when she went back to the Other Place. This Dorothy was like a brand-new person.

"Tin Woodman!" she shrieked in my ear, her voice even more musical than the notes the orchestra played. At last, I remembered myself, and twirled her around before dipping her so low her long ringlets nearly brushed the ground. She laughed gaily. I pulled her close to my chest, and the orchestra slowed the tempo to something more romantic. The people around us cleared a s.p.a.ce, surrounding us in a transfixed circle as I moved with her in tighter and tighter circles. The whole world fell away-it was just me and her, the strawberry-sweet smell of her hair, the softness of her skin a perfect contrast to the hard metal of my arms and torso. I was so overcome I would have swooned, but I couldn't allow the moment to end. "It's so good to see you again," she murmured in my ear, her gentle voice sending a shiver through me. "I've missed you so much." Was there a knowing sparkle in her eyes, a special look that was just for me? Did she know how I felt without my even having to say it out loud? I took a deep breath.

"Dorothy, you are my moonlit star-" I began, but her gaze suddenly focused on something over my shoulder.

"Oh my goodness, Tin, look! It's Polychrome! How wonderful! Simply everyone has come to my ball!"

"Dorothy, my starlit moon-" I tried again, but she released me, sending me stumbling backward into the waiting crowd. "I'll see you again soon, darling Tin!" she trilled, clicking away briskly on her red heels. When I caught my balance again, she was already chattering away with Polychrome. I would have kicked myself if my joints were flexible enough. My starlit moon? The first time I'd seen the love of my life in years, and I'd called her a starlit moon? I cursed aloud, earning a surprised look from a Munchkin pa.s.sing by with a tray of canapes.

"Penny for your thoughts, old tin can!" bellowed a familiar voice. I tried to control my emotions as the Lion slapped my back with one enormous paw, nearly knocking me over. "Where have you been, old sport? Heard you were in the palace yesterday, but haven't seen a peep of you until now. Hiding from your old mates, are you?"

"Not at all," I said, gathering the ruins of my dignity. "It's wonderful to see you. I wasn't feeling well, is all."

"Not feeling well?" the Lion asked. "Man, you're made of tin! Don't tell me you're coming down with a cold."

"Nothing like that," I said. "Just tired from the journey. I trust you've been well?" The Lion brightened and launched into an enthusiastic history of his most recent triumph, the successful management of some arcane dispute between a badger and a dormouse who lived in his forest. I couldn't help but notice that his breath was rather rank. "And you?" he asked, finally bringing his ramble to a close. "How's life with the Winkies? Have you tried eating one? They look awful tough."

"Very good, very good," I said, only half paying attention. Across the room, Dorothy had rejoined Ozma. I tried to catch her eye to no avail. Should I go to her, or let her come to me? I'd ruined our reunion-completely ruined it. I didn't think I could take the Lion-predictable and good-natured as ever-for another moment. A wave of misery overcame me. "Excuse me," I said faintly, "but I'm still ill. I think-I think I have to go back to my room now."

Overcome with emotion, I broke into a half run and staggered out of the ballroom. The Wizard had given me my heart, but he'd never told me how to manage it. I'd gone so much of my life without one that I was out of practice. She'd told me that she'd missed me. I could have sworn that her look had been something special just for me. I'd flubbed my pretty speech, failed completely to tell her how I felt-but surely I still had a chance? I had no idea how to control the confusing pa.s.sions that surged through my metal chest. I raced away from the ballroom and back toward my rooms. She had said we would be together. She had promised me it would be soon. I would let her accept the praise that was her due, enjoy her moment in the spotlight. I'd waited for so long. I could wait just a little longer, until I held her in my arms once more.

THREE.

The next morning, I met the Scarecrow and the Lion for breakfast in the Lion's chambers. Like my own rooms, they were lushly appointed, but where my bed was a giant four-poster, the Lion's was something like an enormous dog bed. Special attention had been given to the walls, which were painted with shimmering murals of antelope fleeing in terror from some unknown foe-presumably the Lion. Even the magic of the palace couldn't cover up the Lion's distinctive perfume, and the servants had yet to clear away a pile of gnawed bones in one corner. The Lion was the only one of us who actually ate. He was working away at an enormous raw steak when we arrived. "Being the King of Beasts really activates the appet.i.te," he mumbled through a mouthful of meat. The Scarecrow and I exchanged a glance. I was fond of the Lion, but couldn't help wishing becoming royalty had improved his table manners.

Dorothy was nowhere to be seen; probably she'd already been witness to one of the Lion's breakfasts, and had wisely decided to pa.s.s on a second opportunity. I tried not to let my frantic antic.i.p.ation show. Where was she? Why, after summoning me all the way to the palace, was she being so elusive? Was she just shy? Could it be that she was wondering if I cared about her in the same way she cared about me?

My mind was awhirl, but I made polite conversation with the Lion and the Scarecrow. We caught up on our respective comings and goings since Dorothy left Oz. The Lion was enjoying his new role as the King of Beasts, although he confessed to periodically snacking on one of his subjects. "Not the best for morale," he admitted, "but it does wonders for discipline."

After his brief stint as ruler of Oz, the Scarecrow had retired to a corncob mansion in the country. I wondered if he had any bad feelings toward Ozma. After all, the Wizard had appointed him the ruler of Oz, not that upstart fairy. But he was vague about what he'd been doing all this time. "Of course, it was such a wonderful surprise when Dorothy turned up on my doorstep with that funny old pair Em and Henry," he said, after he'd talked for quite some time about the technical difficulties of corncob architecture. I must admit I wasn't quite following his monologue, but I snapped to attention at that.

"You mean at the ball," I said.

"Oh no," the Scarecrow said serenely. "She came to my mansion, of course. Practically the moment she got back to Oz. Threw a little party for her. The Munchkins were over the moon. Don't think Em and Henry enjoyed it much, though. They kept talking about how much they missed their cows. Some sort of talking pet in the Other Place, I gather. They said they had quite a few of 'em."

"Why did Dorothy come to you?" I said, openly hurt, and the Scarecrow raised a painted eyebrow in surprise. I smiled quickly to cover my slip. How I felt about Dorothy wasn't anyone else's business. Not until I knew she felt the same way about me.

"Well, I suppose I was on the way to the Emerald City," the Scarecrow mused. He seemed thoughtful, and he kept looking at me with his beady little b.u.t.ton eyes.

"Quite something, that business with the aunt and uncle," the Lion was saying through another mouthful. "Didn't see that one coming. Does Dorothy seem . . . different to you?"

"Different how?" I asked quickly. "What business?"

"Just after you left last night," the Lion said. "Dorothy got into a terrible fight with her aunt and uncle in front of the whole ball. And Ozma lost her temper, too, and shouted at Dorothy. Sent her right to her room like a little kid, can you imagine? Everyone's been talking about it all day. And no one knows where Dorothy and Ozma are now."

"No one's seen Dorothy?" I asked.

"Not since she left the ball," the Scarecrow confirmed. "Though most likely she's just hiding in embarra.s.sment, poor thing." He chuckled.

"Don't you dare talk about her that way!" I snapped. "She's our savior! She'd do anything for us!" The Lion and the Scarecrow were staring at me in surprise.

"Goodness, Tin, no need to get worked up," the Scarecrow said mildly. "I didn't mean any disrespect. I'm sure Dorothy has her reasons for not seeing anyone today."

I scowled, but let it go. Suddenly the Lion sniffed the air. "I smell . . . glitter," he said. I sat up straight. A moment later, I heard the fast tap-tap of a pair of high heels, and heard a familiar high-pitched giggle. Someone rapped on the door to the Lion's room, and before any of us could answer, it swung open. It was Dorothy, looking more radiant than ever. The air around her crackled and sparked with a strange haze. She was still wearing her dress from the ball, although it looked a little the worse for wear and was torn at the hem. What had happened? I wondered. Was she hurt? She didn't seem to be-she seemed, in fact, downright triumphant. Her shoes blazed with red light that made the Lion cover his eyes with one paw. Even the Scarecrow shielded his black b.u.t.ton eyes. And behind her, hovering a few inches off the ground, was none other than the Good Witch Glinda herself, looking like a cat who'd just been let loose in an unsupervised aviary. All three of us were so surprised we were speechless.

"My dear friends," Dorothy said, her voice a satisfied purr and her gaze sweeping the room (and pausing for just a second on the Lion's gruesome leftovers), "do I have news for you. Welcome to the new, improved Oz. I'm running the show now, and everything is going to be so much better." We stared at her for a moment in stunned silence as Glinda floated behind her, beaming in a way that didn't quite reach her cold blue eyes. The Scarecrow was first to break the silence.

"Dorothy!" he exclaimed. "We didn't know what happened to you after the ball. You vanished with Ozma and . . ." He paused, looking as confused as it was possible to look when your face was painted on. "Where is Ozma? And what's she doing here?" By "she" he obviously meant Glinda, who looked none too pleased to be referred to in such a disrespectful tone.

"Oh, Ozma." Dorothy giggled, sweeping into the Lion's room with Glinda at her heels. Dorothy looked around for somewhere suitable to sit, her lip curling a little at the sight of the Lion's nest. Poor Dorothy! She would be accustomed to more genteel surroundings. Why hadn't we thought to clean the room for her?