The End of Oz
Page 10

From behind him scuttled a stooped, wrinkled servant in a shapeless, sack-like dress that hid everything about her except her earthworm-pale, nearly bald head. She looked like a Munchkin, sort of; the world’s saddest, shabbiest Munchkin, anyway. In Oz, the Munchkins were always very chipper. Perhaps the Munchkins of Ev were a different breed.
She was holding a silver tray covered with an assortment of cups and plates and steaming dishes. She placed the tray on the bedside table and scooted back into a corner, where she kept her eyes on the intricate red carpet that covered the stone floor. The Nome King beamed downward at me.
“You slept well, I trust? I know it was a difficult journey.”
“Great,” I said briskly, eyeballing the food. I was starving. And I definitely wasn’t going up against Ev’s biggest evil on an empty stomach.
“Please, help yourself,” he purred.
I was hoping for a singing pastry or two, but Ev’s typical fare was not quite up to Oz’s standards. There was an inky black soup, a little loaf of bread that was distinctly on the dry side, and a big plate of what looked suspiciously like mushrooms. But I was determined to be on my best behavior until I figured out what was going on. Like, for example, whether or not I was an honored guest—or a well-treated prisoner. I nibbled daintily on the loaf of bread, trying not to tear into it the way I wanted to.
“I have left you a servant, as is, I believe, the custom among your kind.” He pointed to the scrubby, bald little thing who still waited patiently in the corner, not looking at either of us. “She is a Munchkin,” he added. “I thought you might like a touch of home while you stayed with us.”
On the one hand, I was touched.
On the other—well, if he wanted me to feel at home, that didn’t suggest he had any intention of letting me go anytime soon. I didn’t want to be at home in Ev. I wanted to go back to Oz. He’d said he could help me. But so far, he hadn’t done anything except give me breakfast and a few things to think about.
“That’s not a Munchkin,” I said before I could stop myself. If I knew anything about Munchkins, it was that they had round, dimpled faces that I alternately wanted to pinch or slap depending on my mood. This creature’s face was thin and gaunt. She certainly did not look like she was about to break into song, as Munchkins were annoyingly known to do.
“I assure you she is. I obtained her myself many years ago from Munchkin Country.” The Nome King glanced pointedly at the Munchkin, who curtsied several times in a rather frantic manner.
If he was kidnapping Munchkins and rescuing me from crumbling palaces, he could go back and forth between Oz and Ev. Which meant he was the key to my getting home. Or perhaps—even better—the little Munchkin was. If she knew how he’d done it . . .
“What a lovely and thoughtful gift,” I said.
“Really, it’s nothing. I shall be honored if you will join me this evening for a banquet.” He smiled broadly, his silver eyes glittering dangerously. “I simply won’t take no for an answer. And I have some information that might be of interest to you, dear Dorothy. I imagine you’re having a bit of trouble with your magic shoes?”
“Nonsense,” I said briskly.
“My dear, I’m quite aware that you’re lying.”
I didn’t like the sound of that at all. It was almost . . . unfriendly. Besides, how could he possibly tell? I quickly calculated my options. There was no point in lying. Maybe if I played along I could figure out what he was really up to.
I sighed. “Well, I suppose there might be a few tiny issues. How did you know?”
“Because I made them.” His smile was almost oily.
“You . . . made them?” As far as I’d known, Glinda had made the shoes. Certainly she’d been the one to give them to me. How was it possible that he even knew about them? Where had they come from?
“In a sense,” he said, with a sharp look, as though he’d just revealed something he hadn’t meant to. He seemed to be considering whether to tell me more. “Their original material is from the kingdom of Ev,” he said finally.
This was something Glinda had never bothered to mention. If there is a mine full of what my shoes are made of, imagine what I could do with all that magic! How very, very interesting, I thought. How very interesting, indeed. There was more to the Nome King—and Ev—than met the eye.
“Hmmmm,” I said. “I do use them rather a lot, you know.”
He smiled. “I’m aware of that, Dorothy. But we have a bargain now. And it’s good for you to remember just how much you have to lose if you fail to keep your end of it.”
Well. I didn’t like that at all. He might be good-looking, but I’ve never been one for the authoritative kind. Other than myself, obviously.
“I didn’t agree to anything,” I said, my voice clipped. He raised a hairless eyebrow, and I carefully moderated my tone. “I mean, my lord—you must forgive me, my palace falling down on my head has put me out of sorts—that I don’t recall the exact terms of our, um, deal. Something about me helping you in exchange for support regaining the throne? But I feel certain I’d remember if we’d discussed the details.”
He smiled at me in amusement, and for the briefest second, I felt like a mouse pinned by a cat. But magic or no, I wasn’t Dorothy Gale for nothing, and I wasn’t going to let some creepily hot cave dweller put me off my game. I stared him down—and saw a flicker of respect in his eyes.
“Of course, Dorothy,” he said smoothly. “Your reputation as a formidable negotiator precedes you. I wouldn’t dream of trying to corner you into an agreement—I’ve overstepped myself. You know how it is when one is so used to dealing with inferiors. It’s been a long time since I encountered an equal.”
“Oh, I know all about that,” I agreed. “I’d be delighted, of course, to join you this evening. And now, if you’ll excuse me to my toilette . . . ?”
“But of course,” he said smoothly with an ironic little bow. He turned to the door. “For your safety,” he added over his shoulder, “I’d recommend you stay in your chamber until then.”
“For my safety,” I echoed sardonically.
But he’d already shut the door behind him—and as it slammed closed, I heard the unmistakable noise of a bolt sliding home. I wasn’t going anywhere until he decided to let me. For now, anyway.
And then it occurred to me: he might have apologized to me, but he’d neatly sidestepped the question of restoring my shoes’ power.
It seemed my status leaned significantly toward the “prisoner” side of the equation. But no matter; I was up for the challenge, and the Nome King was an intriguing—and attractive—opponent. Amy was so obvious. So tacky. And ultimately, so boring.
The Nome King was right. It was a treat to face an equal. Even if it was looking more and more like he might be my enemy.
But I’d conquered men before with a single bat of my magically enhanced eyelashes. Or a show of my devastating wit. And if that didn’t work, I could spell them into my arms. But my lashes were decidedly magic free right now. Still, I had my looks. If I couldn’t talk him into reactivating my shoes’ power, maybe I could trick him into it. And he’d be a lot more likely to miss whatever I could cook up if he was distracted by my ravishing beauty.