I did my best to get Bupu to dress herself for dinner, but at the very suggestion she recoiled in horror. At first I thought she was offended because the dress was so ill-fitting—I’d have beheaded any of my chambermaids in Oz who suggested such a thing—but then I realized she was absolutely terrified at the prospect of attending the dinner herself. When I pressed her further, she cowered on the floor of my bedroom.
“They’ll kill me! They’ll roast me and eat me alive!”
“They certainly won’t,” I said, although I wasn’t at all sure. I would probably be tempted to do the same on a relentless diet of the awful stuff I’d had for breakfast. “Bupu, it wouldn’t be proper for me to attend the banquet without a handmaiden. Besides,” I added, hit with a flash of inspiration, “I have a job for you.”
She looked up at me, her eyes brimming over with tears. “A job? For me? Other than the one I already have?”
“Yes, dear,” I said, waving a hand regally. “You spend a lot of time out and about in the palace, correct?”
“I had many tasks before I came into your service, mistress,” she said uncertainly.
“And so no one would notice if you were to, say, wander around a little when we are released from this chamber for the banquet?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, still confused.
I sighed, reminding myself to be patient. It’s just not reasonable to expect everyone to be as quick on the uptake as I am, other than Scare. And you can’t expect anything from him anymore, because he’s dead, thanks to that bitch Amy Gumm. I mean, I suppose technically I killed him, but she ruined him so that I had no choice. Oh, how I missed Scare! He was a little creepy, sure, and I have to admit some of his experiments were a bit—well, I wouldn’t say out of hand, exactly, but maybe a touch over the top. But he’d always been there for me. Mostly. He’d certainly had the same goals I did. And he’d been so clever. He knew practically everything about the history of Oz. He’d been with me from the very beginning—from before he’d even had a brain. He’d made me laugh back then, and once the Wizard had given him his gift, he’d helped me make myself into the woman I am now.
But Scare was dead, I reminded myself firmly. In the end, even he had failed me.
The truth was, at this point, Bupu was all I had.
“So if you were to overhear certain . . . conversations,” I continued. “Related to your mistress’s future in the palace? Just like you found out about the Nome King’s plans to marry me?”
At last comprehension dawned in her foggy little eyes, and she drew herself up with an expression of pride that was quite comical but also carried enough dignity that I restrained my snicker.
“I go many places,” she said, nodding vigorously. “I stay away from the Diggers and the other servants. No one thinks I hear anything. They think I’m just an idiot slave. I know lots about what’s going on.” She beamed with pride. “The palace servants say many things around me,” she added, waggling her eyebrows at me for emphasis.
“Then you must attend the banquet with me,” I said. “I want you to listen to everything everyone is saying. Everyone I can’t hear. And I want you to remember all of it. Is that clear?”
“No one has ever trusted me with an important mission before, mistress,” she whispered, her eyes wide with awe at the enormity of the responsibility before her.
“Very good, Bupu,” I said. She looked like she was about to literally jump with joy. I cleared my throat and she froze, halfway between a leap and a lurch.
Privately, I had my doubts as to whether Bupu would come up with anything resembling valuable information—assuming she didn’t get herself killed trying to spy at the Nome King’s banquet, which, I had to admit, was a distinct possibility. But she was better than nothing. Plus, having an important secret mission put a real snap in her step. She bustled around my chamber, fluffing pillows, straightening dresses, and hmmm-hmmming imperiously. “Out, dust, out!” she muttered, flicking at an invisible speck on the bedcovers. And finally, at my direction, she consented to swap out her dumpy, shabby sack dress for a—well, a velvet dress several sizes too big for her that still looked rather sack-like. At least it was a formal sack. I told her she looked every bit of an Oz Munchkin. She twirled around at my compliment and I felt something like pride. It was probably the first thing I’d done for someone else since I landed in Oz. Aside from spreading Happiness, of course.
And when more of the Nome King’s servants came to fetch us, she was ready and waiting. These servants were Munchkins, like Bupu, but they were seriously bitchy Munchkins. They wouldn’t even look at the poor creature. She did her best to pretend their obvious derision had no effect on her. But I wondered privately if I should point out to the Nome King that he’d clearly bestowed his second-best Munchkin on me—and I wasn’t used to inferior quality, let alone being insulted.
Bupu was sweet, though. Maybe he’d thought I’d be won over by her personality.
The Nome King’s liveried Munchkins—who were even paler than Bupu—led us down a maze of stone tunnels lit with sconces filled with dimly glowing lumps of some kind of crystal. As we turned down corridor after corridor, I tried to keep track of the direction, but I soon lost count of all the turns we made. I wondered if they were trying to get me lost on purpose, as if to keep me completely dependent on the Nome King. Even Bupu looked a little confused after a while.
Plus, I couldn’t help but notice how many of his servants the Nome King had sent to fetch me. There were eight of them. And some of them had lumpy shapes under their uniforms that looked distinctly like weapons. Their paste-white skin was crisscrossed with ugly scars and several of them were missing fingers or pieces of their ears, as if they were seasoned fighters who’d seen more than a few battles.
They weren’t household servants at all. They were soldiers.
I wasn’t being escorted, I realized. I was being guarded.
That, combined with my locked bedroom door, added up to an answer I didn’t like at all.
It was becoming increasingly clear that whether I cooperated with him or not, the Nome King was determined I obey his will.
You probably don’t need me to tell you there’s only one will for my way.
And it’s mine.
Privately, I was seething. Who did the Nome King think he was? He might be the ruler of Ev. But I was Dorothy the Witchslayer. And I was not going to be treated like a prisoner. But I smiled like the queen I was. I might be at a disadvantage now, but I certainly wasn’t going to give in. I could still find a way to get what I wanted out of this situation. I knew I was up to manipulating the Nome King.
And like I said, I was thrilled by the challenge. I’d gotten a lot done in Oz. But I’d never won over a centuries-old despot who thought I was his prisoner. I was starting to feel positively alive again.
Finally, the Munchkins pushed open a heavy, ornately carved wooden door, revealing a cavern whose ceiling was easily twice the height of my chambers. The banquet hall was beautifully lit with elaborate candelabra that sprouted from the stone walls like branches.
Much to my surprise, dinner at the Nome King’s wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t what I was used to in Oz, of course—not at the Emerald Palace, anyway, where the parties I’d thrown had been absolutely legendary. Whoever had set the table didn’t know the difference between a salad fork and a dessert spoon. But at least everyone had dressed up. Velvet seemed to be the fabric du jour in Ev, closely followed by satin, brocade, and a few outfits that looked as though their wearers had basically dressed themselves in tapestries.
The company was exceptionally dreary. In addition to more Munchkin servants, there were a few other pale, lean creatures who resembled the Nome King—his kindred, perhaps?—and about thirty non-Munchkin soldiers. These must have been the Diggers that had so terrified Bupu, and looking at them more closely over the mushroom terrine, I could see why. They weren’t dressed nicely at all. But that had nothing to do with why they were terrifying.
They were lean and muscular and pale as bread mold, dressed in armor pieced together from plates of metal and hardened leather. Most of them had sinister black tattoos crawling up their arms, or were missing fingers or eyes—or, in one case, a chunk of an ear, so that what was left was just a misshapen lump of scar tissue clinging to the side of his head.
Most of them were hairless, but one or two had thin strands scraped together into braids interwoven with bits of leather and bone. I was awfully miffed that they hadn’t even bothered to dress up. If Bupu’s information was accurate, the Nome King was planning on proposing marriage over the dessert course. Surely that deserved a little more ceremony?
After all, I’d done my absolute best with very little. I still looked every bit the desirable future queen of two kingdoms. Bupu turned out to be as hopeless at hairstyling as she was at everything else, but I’d at least insisted she give my hair the hundred strokes—not a stroke more or less—it deserved. (I’d had to teach her to count, too, bless her heart.) I’d found the best-fitting of the dresses the Nome King had left me and, while there was nothing I could do about the ridiculously outdated style or dreadful color, I’d repurposed a part of one of the wall hangings as an impromptu sash, cinching it tightly to show off my tiny waist and extremely admirable figure. I was, without a doubt, the prettiest girl who’d graced the Nome King’s tables in their history, although from the look of things that wasn’t an especially high bar.
More Munchkins carried in silver platters of food. Some things looked familiar, but others were totally foreign.
A self-important-looking Munchkin, visibly healthier than the others, was ordering the rest about in a curt manner. She had a green velvet bow perched at a drunken angle on her bald head and she wore a ring of keys around her neck. I perked up. That must be Esmerelda, I thought. And maybe, just maybe, one of those keys unlocked the door to my room.
Maybe I didn’t need to win the Nome King’s favor to escape after all. Maybe I just needed a plan and a little help from Bupu.
One of the little Munchkins offered me a bowl of what looked like strange, glowing roots, but as I reached for the serving fork they began to slither about like worms.
“No thank you,” I said quickly, putting the fork back. I caught the Nome King smiling with amusement at my distress, but he dropped the smirk as soon as he saw me looking at him. I picked daintily at a crust of bread—which, although a bit on the dry side, was at least recognizable as food—and helped myself to the wine.
At least they got that right in Ev.
I glanced down during the final course—some kind of spiky thing that looked distressingly like a pile of beetles in a brown sauce, which I only pretended to eat—at where Bupu had been huddled at the foot of my chair. She was gone. Much to my surprise, I hadn’t even noticed her leave. Next to me one of the Diggers roared in delight and stabbed its—his?—taloned fingers into the bowl of beetle-like things in front of him. They emitted a squeaking noise and began to run across the table in terror. I swallowed hard and smiled hugely, trying to hide my revulsion. Casually, I glanced around the room, but Bupu was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe Bupu was going to make a better spy than I thought.
Had the little creature tried to escape? Surely not. She’d only been with me for a few hours but she seemed loyal enough.
Abruptly, the Nome King set down his fork with a thunk and stood. Everyone immediately stopped eating.
“My dear guests,” he began, “thank you for attending this banquet honoring the rightful ruler of Oz, the beautiful and powerful Dorothy Gale.” I smiled demurely at my plate, where several sets of legs waved at me. “She has graciously agreed to honor our realm with her most esteemed presence.” I smiled even more brightly at the assembled guests. The Diggers looked at me blankly. When I’m running the show again you’ll show me the respect I deserve, I thought, gritting my teeth and grinning like a beauty pageant contestant facing the worst panel of judges in the world.
“In fact,” the Nome King continued, “I have been so struck by her beauty and nobility, that for the first time in several hundred years or so, my heart has been moved by her queenliness.”
Well. I knew he was lying, of course. He had some sinister plan to take over Oz and he needed me to do it. But what girl couldn’t help but be swayed, just a bit, by the most powerful person in two kingdoms proclaiming her superiority? Of course, the fact that he had taken away my magic somehow undercut the compliment. I snuck a glance up at him.
And to my surprise, he was looking at me. And the expression on his face was—
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was almost telling the truth. My heart skipped unexpectedly.
Was it possible that the Nome King had feelings for me in spite of myself? And if so, could I use that to my advantage?
I ignored the nagging little voice at the back of my head. The one that suggested that maybe, just maybe, I was feeling an answering spark. He wasn’t what I would call traditionally handsome. He wasn’t young. He wasn’t particularly nice.
But he was powerful. Incredibly powerful. And power is something I’ve never been able to resist.
I fluttered my eyelashes at him and he blinked. I’d startled him, I saw with a flash of pleasure. For just a moment, I had the advantage.
And I loved it.
“It has occurred to me,” he continued hurriedly, trying not to let me see I’d caught him off guard, “that there is one truly perfect way to join our two kingdoms.”
I widened my eyes as if I had no idea what he was talking about, even though I knew what was coming.
“Dorothy,” the Nome King said, “will you rule at my side . . . forever? As my queen?”
Forever. That was a word I didn’t like the sound of. Especially not coming from him. Forever was an awfully long time.
But queen. Now that was a word I liked quite a lot. None of this “interim ruler until Ozma cleans the bats out of her belfry” nonsense. No frumpy little coven of wicked witches breathing down my neck. No backstabbing Glamora. Glinda. Whoever she was now. And, best of all, no Amy Gumm. I’d have as long as I needed to restore my magic, thwart the Nome King, find a way back to Oz, and take back my throne. The Nome King was offering me the best possible solution to my dilemma, and I hadn’t even had to ask for his help. Plus, while I figured out how to get Oz back, I’d be in charge of Ev. My first order of business would be doing something about the food. And then I’d get some new clothes.
The only thing I’d have to worry about if I was Queen of Ev would be its king. And I was sure I could handle him.
Pretty sure, anyway.
I realized everyone in the banquet hall was staring at me, even the Munchkins.
“I won’t take no for an answer,” he purred. He even managed to make it sound not menacing. How sweet.
“My lord,” I gasped prettily, fluttering one hand over my (lovely, if I do say so myself) bosom. “What a marvelous shock you have given me!”
I rose to my feet, gazing proudly out over the silent hall. I’d show them what a queen looked like. My chin was high, my hair glossy, my waist tiny. I had more power in my two red shoes than the rest of these creepshow carnies had in the entire room. I was going to show them just what Dorothy Gale was made of.
And they weren’t going to forget it.
I took the Nome King’s hand and held it high over our heads. “I am honored to accept your proposal,” I said regally.
The room was absolutely silent. The Munchkins stood motionless, gaping up at me. I saw a gray blur out of the corner of one eye that might, just might, have been Bupu.
“Well, my darling, you could hardly refuse,” the Nome King said in a low voice at my side. He reached out with his bony fingers and traced the outline of my cheek, a smile ghosting across his death-white face. I shot him a radiant look.
“I wouldn’t dream of turning down such a marvelous offer from such a wonderful man,” I said, my voice husky. Once again, I saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty cross his face.
He’d expected me to put up a fuss. To make demands. And the fact that I was going along with him without a peep of protest was making him nervous. My smile got even brighter.
Two could play at this game.
“In fact, my lord—” I began, but then something happened that I hadn’t expected at all.
My shoes flared to life with a stabbing red light that split the still air with a sudden resounding crack like a clap of thunder. The shoes were blazing like a bonfire, scattering dazzling, bloodred sparks.
I was so surprised I didn’t even realize the light was coming from me for several seconds. I took a startled step backward. Diggers leapt to their feet; Munchkins scattered. The Nome King grabbed my hand again, this time squeezing so tightly I thought he’d snap the bones of my fingers.
“What are you doing?” he hissed in my ear.
“I don’t know! It isn’t me!” I protested, but I could tell he didn’t believe me. He yanked me fiercely from the banquet hall, practically dragging me down the hallway back to my chambers. Behind me, I could hear frantic panting—poor Bupu, desperate to catch up.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he snarled, flinging me into my room, “but you’re not going to get away with it in my palace, darling.” Just in time, Bupu darted in behind me. The Nome King stared at me, his silver eyes burning with rage. “Stay here until I figure out what you’ve done,” he growled.
“My lord—” I protested.
But he had slammed the door in my face. I sank down on the edge of the bed while Bupu tried to comfort me.
But I wasn’t distraught. I was in shock at what I’d seen in the Nome King’s banquet hall.
In that first flash of red light, it had been unmistakable. Amy. I’d seen a vision of Amy. In a cavern somewhere, with that tedious little warrior boy behind her. She had my shoes. But that wasn’t the most important part. I knew, as surely as I’d ever known anything, that my vision was real. And that Amy was in Ev.
Amy was here.
And from the slow-sparking tingle in my toes, I knew I could use my magic again.
“Mistress?” Bupu asked in a quavering voice.
“I need to think,” I snapped.
The little Munchkin tugged at my sleeve. “Mistress, please forgive me, but it’s very important.”
“Be silent, curse you!” I screeched. She cowered but continued to pluck at my dress.
“I learned something very important at the banquet!”
Finally I opened my eyes and looked at her. “You did? How?”
“I hid under the table,” she said proudly. But then an expression of terrible anxiety flitted across her homely face. “But I heard the king’s guards whispering about you,” she said. “It’s very bad news.”
“Oh? How bad?”
She looked around, her eyes huge, and then lowered her voice even further.
“Mistress, the Nome King isn’t going to marry you. He’s going to murder you.”