Ruler of Beasts (3 page)

Glinda smiled, and just like that she was a sweet, innocent witch again. Had the momentary flash of cruelty been his imagination after all? Already the air around her was sparkling, and her outlines shimmered and began to fade. In moments he could see through her, as if she were a ghost. “Don't fail me, Lion,” she called as she vanished.

“Was that encouragement, sir, or a threat?” Cornelius asked quietly. The Lion didn't bother to answer. What had he just gotten himself into?

It was good to be traveling again. He'd made this journey before, and not all that long ago—though that time he'd been leaving the Emerald City, not heading toward it, and he and the Scarecrow had been fleeing Jinjur's soldiers, afraid for their own lives. When he'd traveled with Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, they'd had such an eventful and occasionally dangerous journey that he'd never had time to pay attention to the landscape. But Oz was safe and stable now. The Wicked witches had been killed or exiled, and no possible threat faced him on the road. Despite Glinda's ominous farewell words, he dawdled as much as he dared along the way to the Emerald City, stopping often to nap in a sunny patch of starflowers or drink lavender-scented water from one of the many brooks he passed. It didn't take long for his paws to find the Road of Yellow Brick, and once he did he quickened his pace. Soon enough, the city was a dazzling green smear on the horizon that solidified into towers,
turrets, and thatch-roof houses as he drew closer to the gates.

Unlike the Wizard, Ozma left the gates of the Emerald City unguarded, as clear a sign as any that Oz had returned to a state of peace and harmony. The Lion slipped past the heavy wooden doors and found himself on the main road to the palace.

The Emerald City was designed like a wheel, with the Emerald Palace at its heart and straight, even roads radiating outward like spokes until they met the city walls. The main roads were paved with a sparkling crust of green gemstones that were eerily smooth under the Lion's paws. Near the city walls, the buildings were mostly neat green houses. Munchkins cheerfully pulled weeds and watered flowers in well-tended gardens, waving at the Lion as he walked by. The closer he got to the palace, the buildings grew larger and more elaborate. Vendors selling green scarves, green songbirds, green pastries, and green suits and dresses hawked their wares to passersby. Here, the streets were crowded with people. Munchkins ran back and forth, on their way to some urgent task or another. An emerald-studded trolley ran past on a shining green track, so full of people that Munchkins hung out its windows and clung to the outside of the car. The Lion licked his lips, realizing how hungry he was from his journey. There were so many Munchkins in the Emerald City—surely no one would miss just one? But he wanted to make a good impression on Ozma, and eating one of her subjects was probably considered poor form.

The Lion made his way slowly through the teeming streets, until at last he reached the gardens outside the Emerald Palace.
The exterior of the palace was dramatically different from the last time the Lion had seen it. The Scarecrow had kept things simple and functional. But now, under Ozma's rule, it was clear that appearance was more important. The gardens were even more elaborately planted. Tiny jewel-colored hummingbirds flitted between enormous green blossoms, and golden butterflies the size of the Lion's head drifted idly from flower to flower. An army of Munchkin gardeners toiled busily: raking the immaculate green gravel paths, planting seedlings in the tidy beds, and trimming the already flawless lawns. Huge green banners emblazoned with the golden crown of Oz fluttered from tall green poles. Courtiers strolled in the gardens, dressed in elaborate, tiered court gowns and well-cut suits of green velvet. Ozma had clearly been busy since the Scarecrow had left the Emerald City. The Lion wondered what his old friend had thought of her changes. But Ozma was the rightful ruler of Oz, after all. It made sense that she would want her palace to be as beautiful as possible.

“Your Highness!” one of the gardeners exclaimed, catching sight of the Lion. He rushed forward, bowing as he ran. “We were not expecting a royal visit! Does Her Majesty know you're here?”

The Lion was pleased to be recognized, but realized quickly he should have sent word to Ozma that he was coming to the city. “Er, I thought I would surprise her,” he said. The gardener looked startled, but recovered quickly.

“How wonderful, sir. I'm afraid we are not prepared to
receive you properly, but allow me to escort you to the palace.”

“Oh, that's all right,” the Lion said. “I don't need anything fancy.” He followed the gardener through the huge main gates of the palace, and his stomach rumbled. It
definitely
wouldn't do to eat one of Ozma's staff, but he was terribly hungry, and the Munchkin was so tempting.

Inside, the palace was even grander than the outside. Ozma's touch was everywhere, in the giant tapestries that covered the walls and the soft, thick carpets scattered across the stone floor. More servants bustled back and forth on various errands, carrying trays laden with delicacies, cleaning supplies, or stacks of books and papers. It was almost hard to believe that this was the same palace where he'd once lounged with the Scarecrow, and where they'd fought a bloody battle against General Jinjur. The palace even felt different. He could almost smell the magic humming in the air—Ozma's magic, he realized. It buzzed faintly in his ears like a distant beehive. The Emerald Palace had never felt like this before. For the first time, it had a true ruler.

“If you'll just wait here for a moment, Your Majesty,” the gardener said. Before the Lion could reply, he was running off down a hallway. Moments later, another servant appeared. This Munchkin was clearly someone important in the palace: his uniform was a beautifully tailored suit, and he wore an emerald pin on his lapel.

“We are honored to have such an illustrious guest. I am Reedus Appleall, at your service,” he said, bowing. “The queen is just finishing some business, but will be ready to receive you
soon, Your Highness.” He looked at the Lion's dirty, matted fur with the faintest expression of disapproval. “Perhaps His Majesty would like to refresh himself before seeing the queen?”

“I would love some refreshments,” the Lion said happily.

“Very well, sir. This way, please.”

The Lion followed Reedus down the familiar corridors of the palace. Ozma's touches were everywhere: every alcove was filled with fresh flowers, the floors were spotless and polished, the walls hung with beautiful Ozian landscapes. He recognized the lush field of poppies where he had once fallen into a most perilous sleep. Rainbow Falls was depicted in all its dazzling, multicolored splendor; real mist drifted from the painting and left a faint, sparkling rainbow dust on his fur. Leaning in to examine an image of distant mountains, he could feel a cool breeze drifting from the tall, snowy peaks. The servants all wore matching uniforms and identical expressions of contentment. “The place looks nice,” the Lion remarked.

“Ozma is a wonderful queen,” his guide agreed earnestly. He ushered the Lion into a large chamber. Huge picture windows looked out over the palace gardens, and an elaborately carved four-poster bed nearly the size of the Lion's entire platform in the forest dominated the far end of the room. The Lion flopped down on the bed with a sigh of satisfaction, ignoring the expression of horror that flashed across the Munchkin's face at the sight of his muddy paws dirtying the lace bedspread.

“About those refreshments,” the Lion growled. Bowing and nodding, the little servant backed into the hallway and
disappeared.

Moments later, the room was full of activity. A team of a dozen Pixies flew in, steering a huge tub of steaming water that rolled along atop an invisible bubble of magic and a pile of towels. A Munchkin brought a platter of roasted meat, and another hurried toward the Lion with a brush and comb. The Lion was far more interested in a meal than in hygiene, but he allowed himself to be hustled into the bathtub. He munched happily as the Pixies shampooed his fur and combed the tangles out of his mane and tail. When he was thoroughly clean, more Pixies took away the bathwater while a Munchkin toweled him dry and brushed his fur until it shone. Finally, another Munchkin brought him a mirror. The Lion admired himself for a moment. “I look so respectable no one will recognize me!” he exclaimed.

Reedus reappeared. “Ozma is ready to receive you, Your Highness,” he said. The Lion followed him down another series of hallways to the Emerald Palace's throne room. As with everywhere else in the palace, Ozma had redecorated the throne room to within an inch of its life. Elaborate murals depicted the history of Oz, and stained-glass windows refracted the sunlight into hundreds of patches of emerald green. Ozma sat regally in her throne, her golden crown sparkling in the sunlight and her rich green robes spilling to the floor around her. But other than a few servants, the throne room was nearly empty, and she looked tiny and lost all alone in the vast space.

“His Highness the Lion, King of the Beasts,” Reedus announced, but Ozma was already rising to her feet.

“Lion!” she exclaimed, picking up the hem of her robe and scampering toward him like a little girl. She flung her arms around his neck. “It's so good to see you!” The Lion was so surprised at her delight that he began to purr.

Ozma leaned back and looked at him closely. “You're looking very well, dear Lion,” she said. The Lion refrained from mentioning this was due to the attentions of her minions. “What brings you to the palace?”

The Lion realized he hadn't thought of a cover story for his trip to the palace. He couldn't exactly tell Ozma that Glinda had said she was bored and lonely. Glinda had made it clear he wasn't supposed to mention her at all. Now, with Ozma staring at him quizzically, he could barely think.

“It, uh, seemed time to pay my respects,” he said, feeling slightly ridiculous. But Ozma only laughed.

“But you were here for my coronation! You didn't need to come all this way just to see me again!”

Suddenly, the Lion was seized by a fit of inspiration. “To tell you the truth, Your Majesty, being king isn't quite what I thought it would be,” he confessed in a low voice. “Being in power is a little lonely. I thought you might have some advice.”

Silently, he congratulated himself on his cleverness as Ozma's cheerful smile turned to a look of sympathy. “I know just what you mean,” she said quietly. “Have you eaten, dear Lion?”

“No,” the Lion said untruthfully. Ozma rang a silver bell next to her throne and the servants leapt to attention. “Please serve dinner for my guest and me in my chambers,” she ordered. “We
wish to dine privately.” She turned to the Lion. “Come, dear Lion. We have much to discuss.”

Ozma's chambers were beautifully appointed, and the Lion cast an admiring glance at the soft, thick carpets and gorgeous antique furniture. “The palace didn't look half so nice when Scare was king,” he remarked, and a troubled look passed across Ozma's face.

“Do you think?” she asked politely, but something was clearly bothering her. Glinda had been vague about why the Scarecrow had left the Emerald City and retired to his mansion, and the Scarecrow had never mentioned the reason himself. Or at least he'd never actually gotten to that part in Scare's letters. He regretted now not finishing them.

“Did something happen between you and Scare?” the Lion asked. Ozma flushed.

“We both thought he would be happier away from the palace,” she said quickly, but it was clear she wasn't telling him the whole truth. She shot the Lion an uncertain look, and then
sighed. “To be honest, I'm not sure the Scarecrow has the best interests of Oz at heart. I know he's your friend, and I don't mean to speak ill of him. But he and Glinda—well, they spent a lot of time together whispering in corners, if you know what I mean. Glinda has her own ideas about how to run Oz, as I'm sure you know.” His first thought was to defend Scare. Scare may have had his head too deeply in his books and he might have missed the throne, but he was a threat to no one, and especially not to Oz. He was surprised by the bitter note in her voice, and for a moment he nearly told her that Glinda herself had sent him. But then he remembered the menace in Glinda's parting words and thought better of it. There was some mystery here to be unraveled, and he was beginning to realize that Glinda hadn't been entirely honest with him about her motives—or about why she'd left the palace.

“I haven't spoken to Glinda since the coronation,” he said carefully. “Did you quarrel?”

Ozma looked at her hands. “I thought it best if both of them leave the Emerald City for a while. It took some persuading, but they finally agreed.” A note of determination entered her voice, and for the first time since he had seen her he realized what a formidable opponent she must be underneath the sweet, girlish surface. If Glinda had had her own ideas about how to govern Oz, she must have been unpleasantly surprised to realize how stubborn its new queen was.

“I see,” the Lion replied. Ozma looked as though she was about to say something else, but at that moment the door opened
and a procession of servants bearing trays of food entered the room. The Lion sniffed greedily, immediately distracted from his interrogation of Ozma. The Emerald Palace didn't skimp when it came to meals. The servants' trays were piled high with sweet pastries and pies, tureens of soup and baskets of steaming, freshly baked bread, a roasted piglet with an apple in its mouth, and all kinds of hors d'oeuvres. A steward poured champagne into an emerald goblet for Ozma and a green bowl for the Lion, who didn't waste any time before diving into the feast. Ozma, who picked daintily at her food, could only laugh at the Lion's dubious table manners.

At last, when he was full, he ordered another bowl of champagne and settled back on a pile of green cushions. He and Ozma had been discussing something important before dinner arrived, and he cast about for a way to pick up the thread again. As if reading his mind, Ozma sighed and looked into her glass. She seemed distant and sad, as if the true Ozma was slowly being revealed to him.

“It's good to have a friend nearby again,” she said quietly. “The palace staff is wonderful, of course, but I haven't really been able to talk to anyone in ages.”

“Ruling is lonely business,” the Lion agreed, and she brightened.

“Isn't it? I knew you'd understand. I'm honored to be the Queen of Oz, and it is my birthright, after all. But so few people understand what it's like to have this much power. I'm responsible for the well-being of everyone in Oz, and I worry about
failing my subjects or making some terrible mistake that will send the country into ruin.”

The Lion had never worried all that much about the welfare of his subjects, but he made a sympathetic noise. He'd had no idea Ozma took ruling so seriously. Little word of the Emerald City reached the Forest of the Beasts. No wonder she was sad, if she fretted this much. He patted her on the arm with a reassuring paw. “Perhaps in that way we are the same. We have to figure it out as we go along,” she said with a smile. He felt some comfort that she didn't know everything instinctively. He certainly had spent the last few months wondering how to be a king. But his concern had been for himself and not others. Ozma had heaped the welfare of the whole kingdom atop her delicate shoulders.

“I think we're supposed to serve, not just rule,” she continued.

Lion shook his head. “The other beasts used to delight in scaring me. And I don't forgive and forget. I usually just eat those who cross me.”

She laughed. “In that we differ. I forgive, but I never forget.”

“What you need is to lighten up a little,” he suggested. “Take a vacation. Or if you can't get away from the palace, at least take some time off to have fun.”

Ozma smiled wearily. “Oh, Lion. Maybe it's that easy in the Kingdom of the Beasts, but for me, it's not so simple. The whole country of Oz depends on me. I can't just take a vacation from being queen.”

“Can't you at least go stay in Glinda's summer palace for a
while?” he prompted. He was determined to get to the bottom of whatever had come between the witch and the fairy. But Ozma only shook her head. “That time is past now,” she said quietly, and he saw that he wouldn't get anything else out of her on the subject of Glinda.

Ozma pushed her plate away, and a servant immediately appeared to clear the remains of their meal. The vulnerability vanished from her expression, and she smiled brightly at the Lion. “How long will you be staying with us, dear Lion?”

The Lion's mind raced as he tried to decide how to answer her question. Glinda hadn't said how long it would take to find this mysterious necklace, and the palace was huge. Ozma laughed again at his consternation. “Of course, you can stay as long as you like!” she exclaimed. “As long as you really can leave the forest to itself, I'll be glad of the company. You mustn't think I'm trying to get rid of you.”

“That's very generous, Your Highness,” the Lion said.

“But only if you promise to call me Ozma,” she added in a mock-serious tone. “We're friends, after all. And we're practically equals. Now, I'm sure you must be tired after your journey. I'll see you in the morning?”

The Lion knew a dismissal when he heard one, but at least Ozma hadn't realized his motives for visiting her weren't entirely selfless. He bowed deeply, stifling a burp, and returned to his chambers, leaving Ozma sitting alone in her enormous room like a lost, lonely doll.