|
|
|
By Paul Dana
©2005 Paul Dana. All rights reserved. Used by permission only or for review purposes. Contact the author or publisher. Illustrations by John R. Neill revised by Joe Bongiorno. |
|
THE RING OF TIME
“Getting lost is hard work,” said Ojo the Munchkin boy. “Let’s rest here.” He and Button-Bright panted as they climbed up out of a wooded vale on the southwestern fringe of Gugu Forest. Gugu Forest lay primarily in the Gillikin Country of Oz, where all nature dressed itself in shades of purple; but this one small sliver of woodland had edged itself into the yellow Winkie Country. It was with some relief that the boys flung themselves down under an ancient yellow oak tree. Button-Bright, cradled between two yellow oak roots that curled right round him in a perfect circle, plucked a blade of yellow grass and put it in his mouth. “We’re not lost,” he said thoughtfully. “Not lost!” echoed Ojo. “We’ve been lost for days!” Button-Bright shook his head and said, “Nope.” “I don’t see why not. All right, it’s clear enough we just crossed the border into the Winkie Country. Other than that, though, we don’t know where in the Land of Oz we are.” Button-Bright shrugged. “That’s not what I mean,” he said. “What is it, then?” Ojo persisted. “You’re supposed to be teaching me how to get lost.” This was so. Responsible, clear-thinking Ojo had traveled the length and breadth of Oz without ever once straying from his path. Button-Bright, however, as all Oz knew, had a genius for getting lost. Who better to show Ojo how it was done? And where better than the Gillikin country, that northern wilderness where civilization seemed to vanish amid the purple forests and thickets? They’d spent the last three days there, shunning anything that looked like a trail, and stumbling out at last only by accident. Surely that qualified them as lost. Button-Bright shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “And I think maybe we started out wrong. Maybe it’s not enough just to hop off the path and say, ‘Now we’re lost.’ You don’t get lost from somewhere; you get lost from someone.” “How’s that?” asked Ojo. Button-Bright tried to explain. “Suppose I’m traveling with Dorothy, Trot and Betsy, maybe in a place we’ve never been to before. Suddenly I realize I’ve wandered off by myself. Now, every one of us is in the middle of nowhere, but Dorothy, Trot and Betsy are found because they’re all still together. And I’m lost because now I’m by myself. See?” “I think so,” said Ojo. “You and I are together, therefore we’re found.” Button-Bright nodded. “But if we got separated we’d both be lost.” “Exactly,” said Button-Bright. They fell silent for a moment. With some reluctance, Ojo asked one final question: “Would you rather be lost right now?” This was not a question that Ojo enjoyed asking. He liked company, and he particularly liked Button-Bright’s company, so it was not surprising that he wished they could stick together. On the other hand, he found himself thinking, a person who likes getting lost should feel free to do so. But knotty as this problem seemed to Ojo, it gave no trouble at all to Button-Bright. “Don’t be ridiculous!” he laughed. “Why should I get lost when I can be with my best friend?” And as that appeared to settle the matter, both boys lay back on the yellow grass with a sigh of mutual contentment. They made a curious pair. It wasn’t just the contrast between the Munchkin blue of Ojo’s attire and the Emerald City green of Button-Bright’s, though that was certainly startling. No, the difference went deeper; for while Ojo had been born and bred in the fairyland of Oz, Button-Bright had journeyed there all the way from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Both now lived in the Emerald City, under the protection of Princess Ozma, and despite their varying backgrounds they had become fast friends. “Lost or not,” said Ojo, “we still don’t know where to go next.” “True,” Button-Bright replied. “There’s our friend the Tin Woodman, Emperor of the Winkies. Since we’ve stumbled into his territory it might be pleasant to visit him.” Ojo agreed. “We’d just need to find the right road,” he said. “Perhaps I could be of assistance,” suggested a gentle, cooing voice from over their heads. They looked up. Above them, on the lowest branch of the oak tree, sat a gray dove. “Please excuse my butting in,” the dove continued politely. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation and I wondered if you might let me help. You see, this neighborhood is where I live.” “That’s awfully kind of you,” said Ojo. “Do you know how to find the Tin Castle?” “Indeed I do,” their feathered benefactor told him. “Do you see a ridge up yonder where the Forest ends?” Ojo nodded. “If you follow that ridge to your right, you’ll find an excellent road. Take that road south and you’ll reach the Tin Castle in two or three hours.” “Thank you very much, Mr. Dove,” grinned Button-Bright, who had been eyeing the creature with frank interest. “You see, Ojo? We’re not lost at all. Wherever you go in the Land of Oz, there’s an old friend to show you the way.” Ojo threw him a look. “Old friend?” “I believe so,” said Button-Bright. “If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Dove, you once captured Princess Ozma, along with most of the really top-notch magic in Oz. Wasn’t your name Ugu the Shoemaker?” The dove bowed. “Thank you for calling me ‘old friend,’” it said humbly. “When I was a man, you had no cause to love me. As a dove, I am pleased to know the forgiveness of my former enemies.” “Pshaw! Bearing grudges is no fun,” laughed Button-Bright. “I just hope you’re happy in this lonely little corner of Oz.” The dove Ugu shook its head. “I would like to be happy,” it told them sorrowfully. “But the past seems to haunt me wherever I go.” “You don’t miss your magic powers, do you?” frowned Ojo. While he had never met the old villain, he knew how much havoc Ugu had wreaked in their beloved Land of Oz. “Not at all!” exclaimed the dove, plainly horrified. “I can’t practice magic anymore and I don’t want to. It’s remorse that haunts me, remorse for the wickedness which I alone, of all who knew it, can never forgive. That’s why I live in this desolate spot.” “To avoid people?” said Ojo, more sympathetically. “Partly,” admitted the dove. “But the main reason is quite different. The Winkie Country may be tamer than the Gillikin Country, but it is here, close to the border, that I am looking for the Ring of Time.” “The Ring of Time?” said Button-Bright, sitting up in his nest of yellow oak roots. “What’s that?” “No one really knows,” the dove informed him. “It’s very old, of course. It’s shaped like a circle, and it’s said to be located somewhere in this neighborhood. But that’s all I’ve been able to discover after an entire year of seeking.” “Why do you seek it?” Ojo pressed him. The dove’s terrible remorse had touched him deeply and he wished he could find some way to comfort the unhappy creature. “Ah,” cooed the dove. “The Ring of Time is a doorway to the past. When I stand within it and make a wish, I will cast myself back to the moment of history when I turned toward evil, and I will undo the dreadful things I did to Princess Ozma and her friends.” “But how?” “Can’t you guess? I must go to my former self, poor discontented Ugu living in the City of Herku, and I must tell him the lessons I’ve learned through long and bitter experience. I must turn him away from his fearsome path and teach him to find peace in a humble life. Only then will my conscience be clear.” Button-Bright scratched his head. “Isn’t it an awful lot of trouble to go to when nobody remembers what you did anyway?” “They do remember!” burst out Ojo. “Even you remember, Button-Bright. When you recognized Ugu, that was the first thing you thought of. I know how he feels. I’m one of the few people in Oz who ever spent a night in prison or walked through the Emerald City wearing a prisoner’s robe.” The gray dove had not heard this story. Ojo’s face darkened as he told it. “It was when my dear Unc Nunkie got turned into a marble statue, along with Dr. Pipt’s wife Dame Margolotte. The Liquid of Petrifaction had spilled on them accidentally, and the only antidote called for a magic six-leafed clover. Ozma had made a law forbidding anyone to pick a six-leafed clover, but I didn’t know why. So I picked one despite Ozma’s law. Now, when Ozma looks at me, I sometimes wonder if she still remembers my crime.” “She remembers how much you love Unc Nunkie,” said Button-Bright. “There’s no harm in trying to help the people you love.” “Everyone has reasons for the wrong things they do,” Ojo reminded him. “Our own Wizard had reasons for giving Ozma to a witch back in the old days. That didn’t make it right.” “Now, Ojo,” the dove said kindly. “You’re as fine a lad as any in Oz, or Ozma wouldn’t have brought you to the Emerald City. I'm sure the Wizard paid for his own crimes in his own way, and I mean to do the same. That is, if I ever find the Ring of Time.” “Oh yes,” said Ojo. “The Ring of Time.” They all pondered Ugu’s quest. “It’s wonderful when you think about it,” Button-Bright said at length. “A doorway through time. Could we really go back into Oz history just by wishing?” The dove assured him that they could. Button-Bright marveled. “Imagine! We could see the Wicked Witch of the East getting squashed by Dorothy’s farmhouse. Or even before that, we could see the Wizard’s balloon floating into the Emerald City for the first time.” “We could not,” interrupted Ojo. “There was no Emerald City before the Wizard. He had it built later.” “All right, all right,” Button-Bright laughed good-naturedly. “But suppose we found this Ring of Time, just think of all the things we could see. We could go back to the very beginning, couldn’t we?” “I suppose we could,” said the dove. “You just want to get really lost,” said Ojo. “Maybe so,” said Button-Bright, stretching out dreamily between his oak roots. “Just for a little while. And the further back the better! Why, we could meet Queen Lurline if we wanted to. Remember her? Glinda says she’s the fairy who turned Oz into a fairyland, back when it wasn’t even Oz yet. It’s funny we don’t hear more about her, considering what an important thing she did. But then, that’s what makes her so interesting. And now that I think of it, that’s what I’d most like to see.” “You’ll have to find the Ring of Time first,” Ugu reminded him. Button-Bright chuckled. “I know. I’m just daydreaming. But it would be terrific, wouldn’t it? Queen Lurline! On the very morning that she cast her spell! I wish I could see it for myself. I wish I could go there right now!” It happened without a bang or a flash. One moment Button-Bright was lying comfortably among his yellow oak roots, gazing up at a canopy of yellow leaves. Next moment he vanished, disappeared as surely as if he’d never been there at all. In the hush that he left behind, a whisper of wind could be heard among the leafy branches. The gray dove recovered its wits before Ojo did. Indeed, it promptly took to hopping up and down, shouting "This is it! Oh, you blind stupid bird, this is it!” Ojo stared. “Where’s Button-Bright?” he asked blankly. “Don’t you know?” screamed the dove, beating its wings with a clatter like flags in a high wind. “He’s gone back! This is it and he’s gone back; and now I can go back too! It’s the end of all my searching!” The dove dropped down into the circle of oak roots where Button-Bright had been sitting. “Goodbye and good luck!” it shrilled. “I wish – “ “Wait!” Ojo’s eyes grew wide and he fell to his knees. “Wait, Ugu, please! Do you mean to tell me this is the Ring of Time? This – this root thing?” “It must be!” Ugu was quivering with impatience. “The boy made his wish and he disappeared. What could be clearer? Now it’s my turn, so if you don’t mind – “ “But I do mind!” cried Ojo, very put out. “We have to go together, you and me. We have to find Button-Bright. All that talk about lost or not lost, and now he’s lost in the past.” He drew a disbelieving hand over his eyes. “Back at the beginning of everything!” Ugu puffed up his feathers petulantly. “I don’t see why you need me. You boys are experienced travelers, well used to larking about on your own. You’ll be fine.” “This isn’t just larking about!” objected Ojo. “It’s going back in time. We don’t know what we’ll find or who we’ll meet. Why, almost anything could happen!” “Almost anything does happen here in the Land of Oz,” Ugu pointed out. “Why should this worry you?” Ojo was at a loss. Then a new thought struck him. “Look at it this way,” he said. “You want to track down your former self, don’t you? Well, wouldn’t the very beginning be a good place to start? If Oz people really do live forever, then almost everyone who’s alive now should have been alive then, including you. What could be better?” Ugu considered this. “That may be true,” he acknowledged. “I expected to catch the poor fellow a bit later, but perhaps the beginning would do just as well.” “Of course it would,” Ojo agreed fervently. “And Button-Bright and I could help you.” “Maybe so, maybe so.” Ugu was bobbing his sleek head in a thoughtful manner. “All the same, it’s a queer business. You’re quite correct that my former self should have been alive then, and just about my age. But if that’s so, shouldn’t I remember?” “What do you mean?” asked Ojo. “Remember what?” “Queen Lurline. Or the transformation, at least. It must have been a memorable event, but I can’t recall a single detail about it. Oh well. Old age, I suppose.” The dove shook its tail. “Shall we be off, then?” “You’ll come?” “I will,” declared the dove. “And now that I’ve calmed down, it occurs to me that I’ve behaved rather selfishly. I very nearly rushed off and left you here by yourself. Please accept my sincere apologies.” “Don’t mention it,” said Ojo, blushing. “Oh, but I insist,” said Ugu. “As a dove I’ve grown kinder and more generous than I ever was as a man. Still, my old self flares up sometimes and makes me say things I regret.” “It was the heat of the moment,” Ojo said comfortingly. “You were excited about finding the Ring of Time.” The gray dove nodded. “Very true. Thank you. Now, just step over that root, please, and stand inside the circle.” Ojo did so rather cautiously, as if he expected a small shock. “Perhaps I should perch on your shoulder,” the dove suggested. At a nod from Ojo it fluttered up and dug its claws into his sturdy blue jacket. “Very well,” it went on. “I’ll do the honors. Attention, O Ring of Time! We wish to go back to the morning of Queen Lurline’s arrival in Oz.” “Same as Button-Bright,” added Ojo, just to be on the safe side. And he braced himself for the pounding gale or thunderous crash that would hurl them headlong into the past. It wasn’t like that at all. Indeed, there was only a sudden, silent shift of color. The yellow vegetation turned green, brown – all the usual colors of the natural world. It was a small thing in its way. Yet this, oddly, unsettled him more than any cataclysm could have done. Green! What an odd and lonely spectacle for a boy who had grown up in the Land of Oz, where each country has its own characteristic color. It made him feel, momentarily, that he'd lost his home forever. “Green! That’s one thing I never expected. Did you, Ugu?” The dove on his shoulder made no response. It appeared to be preening its feathers. “Oh well,” said Ojo. “If that’s our biggest worry we’ll probably be all right.” Getting down to business, he stepped out of the magic ring and cupped his hands to his lips. “Button-Bright!” he shouted. “Can you hear me? Button-Bright!” His voice carried thinly up toward the ridge, startling the gray dove. He shouted a few more times, pausing between whiles to wait for an answer. None came. The outlook seemed grim. “If it were anyone else,” said the boy, “I’d guess he followed your directions up toward the road. With Button-Bright, though, there’s no telling. What do you think?” The dove held its tongue. Ojo gave it a sidelong glance. “I hope you’re not moping,” he said sternly. “I really am sorry, but when Button-Bright gets lost I have to go after him. And you did say it would be all right.” He stroked the dove’s feathery flank and heard it coo wordlessly in response. “Oh, now,” he scolded. “What kind of noise is that for a fairy bird? You haven’t forgotten how to speak, have you?” Still no answer. And now Ojo recollected something. They might not be in fairyland at all! They had wished for the morning of Lurline’s arrival, and it was just possible that she had not yet appeared. Her spell had not been cast. This, then, was an altogether different Oz, an Oz that knew no fairy magic – an Oz, perhaps, where animals could not speak. But surely, Ojo thought, this particular dove would remain a creature of fairyland wherever it went. Wouldn’t it? Dreading the answer, Ojo coaxed the reluctant bird onto his finger and brought it round to face him. “Ugu,” he pleaded. “Tell me you can still talk. Tell me you remember what we’re doing and why we’re here. Tell me anything, anything you want. Please!” It was no use. The dove had nothing whatever to say, and its small eyes glittered like heartless black beads. Ojo could have wept. He thought of Ozma, whose fairy magic could easily restore the bird’s speech. He thought of the sorceress Glinda, far off in the Quadling Country. He could not go to them for help, not if he walked for days. This was the past. Doubtless Ozma would come here with the fairy Lurline; and as for Glinda, he couldn't imagine where she might be or what power she might have. In the end, there was nothing to do but strike out for the road and hope that Button-Bright had done the same. Ojo returned the dove to his shoulder and started walking. “One thing is certain,” he told the dove. “For the first time ever, I’m well and truly lost.”
CLOUDCOURT As often happens, the ridge was further away than it had looked. It took Ojo the better part of an hour, all uphill, to reach the final ascent. This, unfortunately, gave him time to assess his predicament more fully than he had done before. On one hand, he had to admit that his reason for choosing this route had disappeared. He and Button-Bright had discussed visiting the Tin Woodman, but here in the past there would be no Tin Castle glittering elegantly from afar, and no Tin Woodman to welcome and advise. That famous fellow, probably not even tin yet but still flesh and blood, would be living his quiet, unremarked life in the Munchkin Country. Where, then, could Ojo find someone powerful enough to help the gray dove? Aside from a splendid view, there was little to be gained by this lengthy tramp. On the other hand, no better alternatives suggested themselves. And one consideration did approve this course: the gray dove had recommended it to Button-Bright as well as to Ojo. For that reason, and because he couldn’t discover a likelier plan, Ojo continued. At last he found himself directly under the ridge, grown huge as he approached it. Tired, he sat down to rest at the edge of a flat green meadow dotted with wildflowers. At that moment, a shadow fell between him and the sun. Ojo looked up. In the otherwise pristine sky there had appeared a single cloud, large and round, flying out of the west on a swift current of air. It sped overhead as if on urgent business, then paused, made a graceful turn and came back the same way. Over the meadow it paused again, banking this way and that as if it couldn’t decide what to do. Then, to Ojo’s alarm, it began to descend! The boy scrambled out of the meadow and up the slope just in time. When he stopped to look down again, the cloud had settled itself right across the meadow below him. Now his alarm turned to wonder. Unlike the usual fluffy, plumed confections that grace our skies on windy days, this cloud was almost completely flat. And on its flat surface could be seen a remarkable company. That they were fairies Ojo had no doubt. All, men, women and children, wore faces and forms of remarkable beauty, and their flowing garments shone with all the colors of the rainbow. Animals of many kinds moved freely among them, including some which would have been feared in the wild. A number of fish, too, swam hither and thither through air as if it were water. Birds flew companionably alongside these fish or perched on the branches of trees that dotted the level plain. And all of these creatures walked and talked together like great friends. From the center of the cloud there rose a grand pavilion decked out in merry banners and bunting. Ojo recognized it as the work of fairy magic, for he had seen Ozma produce such things using her own skill. The front of the pavilion was open, and inside stood a raised table surrounded by a bewildering crowd of people and animals. Ojo could not tell who sat at the head of the table. It occurred to him, though, that it might be the legendary Queen Lurline herself, making ready to turn this green and pleasant country into a fairyland. If only Button-Bright were here! It was his wish to see this very spectacle that had brought them here in the first place. Suddenly Ojo noticed a girl, gaily dressed in green and lavender, clambering down from the cloud near at hand. She looked right up at Ojo, waved like an old friend, and hurried purposefully up the hill as if her life’s work lay at the top of it. There was no point in running off. Moments later she plopped herself down next to him. “What a lot of talk!” she said, grinning cheekily. “It’s nice to get out of that crowd for a bit. Are you Button-Bright or Ojo?” “I’m Ojo,” replied the boy. “How did you know?” “The Queen’s council read about you and about this gray dove too, in the Great Book of Records. They told the Queen that you come from the future and now she wants to talk to you.” “Does she know where Button-Bright is?” Ojo demanded eagerly. “He’s lost again and I haven’t been able to find him.” The girl shook her head. “We were lucky to find you, let alone your friend. But pull yourself together and I’ll take you to meet the Queen. I’m Onna Val, by the way. Pleased to make your acquaintance." She offered her hand, which Ojo shook warmly. “Where do your people come from?” Ojo wanted to know. History books said little about Queen Lurline, as Button-Bright had reminded him, and he thought he should collect all the information he could. “Our home is the Land of An, deep in the great Forest of Burzee,” said Onna Val. “But I haven’t seen it in years. I don’t mind, of course, for everyone is so happy there that it’s utterly dull and uneventful. I’d much rather fly about on Cloudcourt (that’s the name of the big cloud), looking at different countries and deciding which ones should become fairylands.” “That’s a big responsibility,” said Ojo, who suspected that this chatty, offhand girl didn’t appreciate the power at her ruler’s disposal. “Is it?” She shrugged. “We don’t let it worry us. Or rather, the Queen and her advisers worry sometimes and the rest of us not at all. We’re just along for the ride.” “Which countries have you transformed so far?” inquired Ojo. “The last one was the Land of Ev, but as far as I’m concerned it was a total bust. All that magic and nobody cares enough to use it! Why, they were too boring to become immortal! I think their neighbor the Nome King should go in and shake things up a little. Now, the Land of Mo is a different matter. Did you know they have popcorn snow these days? Delicious! And as for that monarch of theirs –“ A horn call sounded from the pavilion. “Oops!” Onna Val jumped to her feet. “I almost forgot we’re expected. Come on, Ojo, it’s time to meet the Queen!” She dragged the boy downhill and swarmed up the side of the cloud. Ojo had no choice but to follow, with the gray dove fidgeting nervously on his shoulder. It was easier than he had imagined, rather like climbing up a firm pile of sofa cushions. They reached the level field almost at once and plunged into the crowd. Ojo was fleetingly aware of the strange and wonderful folk they passed by: a deer who watched them with large, liquid eyes; a trio of hummingbirds hovering round the head of a gracious lady; a great bear with her young cubs; and a panther that politely turned its head away and commenced washing its immaculate paw. All these and more Ojo saw as he passed. There was a pair of weasels playing on the lap of a broad man in a scarlet robe; there was a blue heron with a beak like a spear, deep in conversation with a silver-scaled salmon; and a huge bat peered myopically from the tree branch where it hung alongside a sleepy boa constrictor. Many raised an arm or paw or wing in greeting as Onna Val hurried by with her companion, while others barked, hissed or purred a warm welcome. Soon Ojo looked up to find the pavilion looming ahead. They climbed a few short steps while more creatures courteously shuffled or hopped or slid out of their way. In this manner they reached the long, raised table with its splendid company and tempting feast, a vision as bewildering as it was fantastical. And at the very center of that table, rising now to greet her visitor stood a tall and beautiful lady who could only be the Queen herself. Ojo stared. Like her fairy company, Lurline seemed fashioned from all the colors of the rainbow. Her long hair, confined by a single silver band, gathered red, russet, gold and dark brown into patterns that flowed like fire down her back. Blue, green and gray were the colors of her eyes, and her face shone with the freshness of a new dawn. As for her raiment, it wove all these colors and more into shifting, shimmering loveliness. “Good morning, wanderer,” she greeted Ojo. “Come and sit beside me here at my table.” She touched an empty chair to her left. At a slight push from Onna Val, Ojo walked around the table and stood shyly by the empty chair. He wished more than ever that Button-Bright were here. By rights this should have been his adventure, not Ojo’s. “Sit, my friend, and eat freely,” urged the Queen, settling into her own chair. Ojo sat and surveyed the magnificent feast laid out before him. He and Button-Bright had breakfasted on fresh fruit and nuts, but his long walk had made him hungry again. Lurline smiled as he picked up a steaming roll. “Very good,” she said. “Travelers always need food, and I imagine time travelers need more than most. Never having met one, I find myself uncertain. Would you mind if my advisers and I question you while you eat?” “No indeed!” replied Ojo, anxious to appear cooperative. “Excellent.” Lurline smiled again, a curious smile that beamed itself, not at Ojo, but at some loftier thing over his head. Ojo very nearly glanced upward to find out what it was. Yet all the while her eyes rested firmly on his face. “Tell me then, Ojo, what part of the future you come from. Is it just a few months hence or some years?” Ojo hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I’m told that other nations reckon up time by months and years, but I’ve never understood how. Button-Bright says it has to do with weather changes called seasons, but I'm not sure the Land of Oz even has proper seasons.” “So naturally you cannot speak to me of years. Fair enough,” said the Queen. “Would you say, then, that a great many things have happened between my time and yours?” “Oh yes,” said Ojo. “All kinds of things. The history books are as fat as hay bales.” “I understand,” nodded the Queen. “And do the people of Oz remember these events?” Ojo thought back. “You'd think so. No one ever dies in the Land of Oz, so folks must have been around. But for some reason they never mention it.” At this, Lurline bent her head forward and addressed someone on Ojo’s left. “That settles our dispute, does it not, Avia? If the people here will be immortal, as the boy says, then the country must first become a fairyland. This is how I will finally right the ancient wrong.” Ojo turned to find himself confronting the small, sharp features of a mockingbird perched on a mug. “True,” allowed the mockingbird. “That is, if the boy is honest.” “And why shouldn’t he be honest, friend Avia?” asked another voice, this one from Lurline’s right. By craning his neck, Ojo discovered that this voice belonged to a great, shaggy she-wolf who sat on a chair with her front paws resting on the table. “The boy has nothing to gain by deceiving us,” the she-wolf continued. “I believe we can trust him.” “You are too generous, Luba,” replied the mockingbird Avia. “Suppose some powerful magician has instructed the boy to play a trick on history, to make a fairyland where none should exist.” “That’s impossible,” argued the she-wolf Luba. “Unless he had come from a true fairyland, Ojo couldn’t have made the journey from his time into ours. Don’t you agree, Pescus?” “The wide world is full of magic,” said a long-whiskered catfish that hovered in the air alongside Avia. “And our Queen has already learned, through her own skill, that many different magics are now practiced in this country. One or two, perhaps, are strong enough to send children back through time.” “And to bend fairy magic to villainous ends,” added Avia. “Immortality, which is the least of our gifts, could prove dangerous if we spread it around too carelessly.” Lurline beamed her smile on the mockingbird. “I hope you do not mean I am careless,” she said. “No indeed!” Avia fluffed up her feathers nervously. “You are the wisest of queens as well as the most powerful of fairies. But even you have complained that your fairylands are not all successful.” “And that the people who rule them are not all fit,” said Pescus, twitching his long whiskers. “Queen Zixi of Ix, for instance. She is vain enough to set herself above you, Your Majesty, if ever she thinks of it.” “Let her think,” said Lurline, drawing herself up proudly. “The power I gave her is no threat, and if she is foolish, so be it. Every time I break a Magic Egg, the raw magic makes its own way through the countryside, settling thickly in one spot, thinly in another. It is not for me to judge how this or any country should govern itself.” “But you judge which countries deserve a Magic Egg,” Pescus reminded her. “And you have promised to do still more. Just yesterday you were considering ways to mold the raw magic, to guide it and apply it where you will.” “Indeed,” said the she-wolf. “This is the very matter we spoke of yesterday. I’ve always wished I could take a small share of magic into the wild places, where the poor beasts surely need help in understanding what’s happened to them.” “But do they really want us to instruct them?” Lurline countered. “When the magic enters their lives, they must use it as they think best.” “That’s just it!” Luba protested. “They have no say in the matter at all. Those who are changed can never go back. We’ve seen wonderful transformations, certainly, but we’ve also seen disasters that embarrassed us all. Think of the poor Wheelers.” “Hah! Don’t feel sorry for those dreadful creatures,” scoffed Avia. “In all my life I’ve never seen a more ill-tempered race.” “You’d be ill-tempered too if your hands and feet had turned into wheels,” Luba retorted. “The poor things can’t even pick a ripe dinner pail from one of their own trees. I don’t like them any more than you do, but things might have turned out better if we’d helped them rather than flying off after the fact.” “We should have rolled every one of them off a cliff,” muttered the catfish. “That’s enough, Pescus!” warned Lurline. “Luba may be right. I have considered the matter, as I promised, and I must admit that our Magic Eggs cannot tell the difference between good or bad, useful or useless. They simply bring out what is already strong in whatever they touch. And it is we who are responsible, at last: we who break the Eggs and unleash the magic.” Lurline paused, gazing out across Cloudcourt toward an unknown, unnamed Oz. “Last night,” she said, “I prepared strong magic that you can all take with you into this transformed country.” Luba rejoiced at this news. Pescus, however, still had doubts. “So you mean to waste a Magic Egg on this lonely spot?” the catfish inquired. “I do. Our friend Ojo is trustworthy, I believe, and his word is good enough for me.” “You haven’t questioned the gray dove,” hissed a new voice. It belonged to a small green snake that lay curled, almost invisibly, in a saucer beside the she-wolf. “It’s all one to me,” he said, “whether or not you make a new fairyland here. But as long as you’re asking around, why not try the gray dove?” “Are you joking?” shrilled Avia, hopping up and down scornfully. “Herpetium, your eyes must be getting worse. This is no fairy dove. It’s mute. Take my word for it.” “You surprise me,” hissed Herpetium. “The creature is not a true bird at all, as you should have guessed. It wears a shape that is not its own.” “Nonsense!” screamed Avia, outraged. “I know a bird when I see one, and right now I see one sitting on that boy’s shoulder. Your Majesty, surely you will back me against this legless reptile.” “Legless indeed!” retorted Pescus the catfish. “Two skinny pink legs haven’t done your temper much good.” Lurline raised her hand for silence. “Herpetium,” she said. “I have nothing but respect for your long memory and your quick wit. But how do you know that what you say is true?” “We snakes have senses that other creatures lack,” Herpetium informed her. “I know because I know.” Luba turned her furry face toward Ojo. “Is this true?” she asked gently. “Is the gray dove a transformation?” “Yes, ma’am,” said Ojo, who liked the she-wolf better than Lurline’s other advisers. “I never saw him when he was a man, but he used to be a shoemaker in the City of Herku. And even as a gray dove, he spoke very well before we came here to the past.” “More proof that this will be a fairyland,” said Luba. “More lies!” muttered Avia. Lurline ignored the mockingbird. “Our law states that no creature may endure a transformation against its will,” the Queen announced. “I now undertake to restore the gray dove’s human form. Ojo, can you tell me how this transformation was accomplished?” “Yes, Your Majesty. Dorothy did it with the Nome King’s Magic Belt.” A shadow passed over the Queen’s lovely face. “Nome magic!” she sighed. “It will take all my strength to break the enchantment. Or again, perhaps not. Herpetium, your people take some of their power from below the earth’s surface. Can you break an enchantment of this kind?” “I believe so, Your Majesty,” hissed the snake. “Place the gray dove on my chair, which I have no use for, and we shall see what we shall see.” Ojo rose and coaxed the gray dove onto his finger. It had no objection to this, though it grew restless when he shifted it onto Herpetium’s chair. Herpetium had slithered to the edge of the table, meanwhile, adding to the dove’s nervousness. Now Herpetium began to dance, a curving, coiling dance such as snakes may do when they choose. He fixed his reptilian gaze on the gray dove and maintained a quiet, rhythmic hissing as he swayed and looped and spiraled. Avia clearly disliked the operation; she turned her back and pecked at a bowl of seeds that had been provided for her. Even Luba avoided staring directly into the snake’s hypnotic eyes. Only Pescus and Lurline watched the whole thing with a cool air of detachment and interest. Suddenly the form of the gray dove seemed to burst where it stood. A swirl of color shot upward, and for a brief second the very air seemed alive with moving particles. Then the particles rushed together and the figure of an old man, dressed entirely in gray, was seen squatting on the chair. The Shoemaker looked down at the skinny body he hadn’t seen in years. An expression of horror crossed his face. He burst into tears.
MAGIC LOAVES Ugu was despondent. “I never wanted this,” he told Ojo while the Queen and her Council planned their next move. “I should have remained a gray dove for the rest of my days.” Ugu’s concern seemed clear enough to Ojo: would his old embittered self rise up in him, now that he’d regained his original form? Or would his peaceable dove nature continue to prevail? No one could answer this question, and the time for asking it had come and gone. Lurline placed a hand on Ojo’s shoulder. “I hope you do not fear heights,” she said, “for we are about to fly. The first ascent can be alarming.” She looked about her decisively. “Very well, then,” she said. “Let us begin.” “And when we’re aloft,” said Avia, “will you tell us what magic you’ve prepared for us?” “I will,” promised the Queen. “Do be quiet now, please.” On the table rested an iron kettle full of water. Standing before it, Lurline took from her full sleeves a vial of powder that shifted and twisted under its metal cap. She held this vial over the kettle, uncapped it and turned it upside-down. To Ojo’s surprise, no powder fell out. The Queen began to chant, a low melodious chant in some unknown tongue. Now a single grain of powder fell from the vial. This one grain was followed by another, then two together, and finally by a thin stream that spiraled down into the iron kettle. Ojo could see the tiny grains moving over the surface of the water, and as more grains fell they collected in discs that swam about like sleepy water beetles. A cool breeze rippled the silken sides of the Grand Pavilion. Something told Ojo to look down, and when he did he gave a small gasp. The fairy cloud was transparent, at least from above, and he could see the ridge falling away under his feet! Up and up they rose, higher and still higher, till the whole countryside lay spread out below. The chanting stopped. Lurline tucked the vial back into her sleeve and made several passes over the water with her hands. The great cloud, which seemed to have found its level, now began to travel in a southeasterly direction. Fields and forests streamed away behind it. “We’re off!” said Onna Val, watching Ojo’s face with satisfaction. “I don’t suppose you’ve had a ride like this before, have you!” Ojo shook his head, unable to tear his eyes from the vision of moving earth. “And you, Ugu?” continued Onna Val. “Have you ever traveled so high?” Ugu closed his eyes as if the question were a bright light shining in his face. “Once or twice,” he admitted. “In a manner of speaking. There was no time to waste on views. I had much need of haste.” He said no more and his eyes remained shut. Ojo suspected that he was remembering when he had stolen all the important magic in Oz, most particularly a flying dishpan that took him wherever he wished to go. It seemed unwise to let the poor fellow dwell on the past that he wished to undo, so Ojo inquired loudly, “How far do we travel?” “To the very center of this land,” replied Lurline. “That is where we will work some real magic with one of our precious Magic Eggs.” “Magic Eggs. You mentioned them before. What are they?” Lurline smiled her odd lofty smile. “They are the most magical things in the world,” she said. “They are laid by an ancient Phoenix far off in the Land of An, which is our home. Perhaps you have heard that a Phoenix never dies? It is true: the Phoenix lives for many years, and when it grows old it burns itself to ashes in a great pyre. From those ashes the Phoenix rises again, young and ready to live a new life. “Such a bird has no need of offspring. Yet the Phoenix does lay eggs, and its eggs contain nothing less than the purest essence of raw fairy magic. The yolk of them burns with the sun’s own power, and you know how mighty that is.” Avia, the mockingbird, hopped onto a chair back. “It’s life in the raw,” she declared. “That’s why eggs are poisonous to all Nomes. Nomes hate the sun, and every bird’s egg contains its own small sun.” “So does the egg of a reptile,” hissed Herpetium, raising his small scaly head. “Reptile eggs are laid underground more often than not!” Avia cried scornfully. “I never heard of a Nome fleeing from a lizard egg!” “Friends, do not shout,” Lurline commanded. “All eggs answer the call of the sun’s warmth. But we were speaking of the Magic Eggs laid by the Phoenix.” “Yes,” said Onna Val. “The Magic Eggs. Tell Ojo how they work.” “I don’t trust them myself,” said the she-wolf Luba, stretched out on the floor. “They’re easy enough to use: you go into the middle of a country, break an Egg, and presto! You’ve made a fairyland. But the magic is unpredictable. It can make strong people stronger and wicked people wickeder. It can skip right over big towns and worm its way into lonely corners full of danger.” “You are too gloomy,” Lurline chided. “Wonderful things happen, and some of them we can count on every time. Think of the gift of immortality: a Magic Egg grants it to almost everyone. Think of the gift of speech that is granted to your own people, Luba.” “I know, I know.” The she-wolf shook herself. “I only wish we could make these changes easier for those who must live with them. You said a while ago that you would help us to do this.” “Yes,” said Avia. “And last night you closed yourself in here for hours with the lights blazing. We all know something is up. You may as well tell us what it is.” The Queen regarded her advisers, one after another: the she-wolf, the bird, the fish, and the snake. Then she drew from beneath her chair a silver tray covered with white linen, which she set on the table. A delicious smell of fresh baking filled the Pavilion. “The task I set myself,” explained the Queen, “was to harness the raw power of the Magic Eggs, to contain it in a form that would let us apply it when and where we choose. There may be many ways to do this, and any one of you might have chosen a different method. For me there was only one way, and the results are under this cloth: five Magic Loaves fired in an oven hot enough to burn the Phoenix herself.” “Why five?” asked Pescus. “Four will go to you, my four advisers,” replied the Queen. “These four share a single Magic Egg between them, spread evenly throughout the dough. Mine, the fifth, has one entire Egg baked into it. I am almost fearful of the power that lies in that Magic Loaf, and of the responsibility I face in using it wisely. But all the Loaves may be strong enough to do great good and great harm, depending on how you use them.” “Or they may not,” said Herpetium. “I have lived long and seen much, but I have never seen a Magic Egg treated in this manner. How can you know what will happen when you take a knife to your Magic Loaves, or when someone swallows a mouthful of that bread?” Lurline sighed deeply before she answered the green snake’s question. “Herpetium,” she said at last, “you have guessed the truth already. I do not know. The raw power may easily have grown greater through the mixing, the kneading, and the baking. And just as easily it may have shrunk or withered into something small and plain, or into nothing at all. This last is unlikely, yet it must not be ruled out. Who can say? I do believe, though, that the Loaves will let us help those in need wherever we find them, in this or any other land. And if they do, they mark the dawning of a new age in our great work.” Luba was wagging her tail and grinning all over her furry face. “Your Majesty,” she said excitedly, “I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me. Only show me how to use my Magic Loaf and I’ll be into the forest quick as thought. When do we start?” “Now,” responded the Queen. “For we have arrived. Look!” Everyone except Ugu, who had not yet opened his eyes, looked down through the transparent cloud. They had stopped high over a broad green plain ringed with fields of ripening wheat. Other than two or three scattered farmhouses, no human habitation could be seen for miles around. “This is the exact center of the new land,” said Lurline. “In the plain below we will break our Magic Egg. Afterward you may go where you like with my blessing.” Ojo sank to his knees and peered down at the green land that grew larger and larger as they descended. He felt rather queer. It wasn’t that the downward motion disturbed him, but rather that what lay below seemed so empty. “Onna Val!” he whispered without looking up. “Is that really the exact center of this place?” “Must be,” said Onna Val. “Cloudcourt never makes a mistake.” “But there’s nothing there,” marveled Ojo. “Shouldn’t there be a town at least, or even a village?” “I don’t see why. Just because it’s the center, that doesn’t mean anyone has to live there. Does that bother you?” Ojo shook his head. “Not at all,” he replied. “But in the future the greatest city in Oz will stand on this spot. I know. I live there. And,” he went on as Cloudcourt came to rest on the flat green plain, “there’s not so much as a house in sight. Well, maybe a farmhouse here and there. But nothing that looks like a settlement. It feels so odd.” “Not to me,” Onna Val said stoutly. “Get up. The ceremony will begin soon.” But as she took his hand they heard a sudden cry. It was the Queen herself, standing beside her silver tray with the linen cloth in her hand and a startled look on her face. “What is it?” barked Luba, pricking up her ears. “The Magic Loaves!” cried Lurline. “Mine is missing!” The advisers crowded around the long table, together with Ojo and Onna Val. Even Ugu watched from beneath drooping eyelids. The Queen was right. Of the five Magic Loaves, only four still occupied their silver tray. The most powerful one had disappeared. “There’s a thief among us!” shrieked Avia, puffing her chest out importantly. “Close the Pavilion! Secure the exits! Everyone must be searched!” “Not so fast,” interrupted Pescus. “Maybe the Queen has made a mistake. Your Majesty, could you have put the missing Loaf in your sleeve?” Lurline was certain that she had not. “Then some villain took it while we were watching our descent,” Avia concluded. “Fast work! Herpetium, I don’t believe you showed much interest in the view.” The green snake rose up hissing in his black bowl. “Then search me!” he sneered contemptuously. “If you think I have fur or feathers enough to hide a Magic Loaf, you’re welcome to look.” Avia retreated from the snake’s piercing gaze. Pescus had other suggestions. “Our wolfish friend has a wide mouth,” he said. “Perhaps she should show us what’s in it.” Luba’s upper lip drew back in what was almost a menacing growl. Pescus did not flinch, but the Queen raised her hand for order. “Let us have no accusations!” she commanded. “We are friends here, not enemies, and none of us has ever been known to steal. Remember, please, that we’ve come to a land where there is already much powerful magic. It may be that the Loaf was stolen by someone far away, a wizard or sorcerer clever enough to spy on our proceedings and summon objects to his side.” “Such a person could be dangerous,” said Luba, with a sidelong glance at the catfish, “Especially if he’s captured that Magic Loaf.” “I still think we should search the Pavilion,” insisted Avia. “Think of the boy and the Shoemaker. They could have done it.” Ojo gave a start, but Onna Val rose fiercely to his defense. “Ojo was with me!” she protested. “He couldn’t have budged without my knowing it.” “Yes, and the Shoemaker has been in a trance since he got here,” said Lurline. “He barely understood our talk about Magic Eggs and Magic Loaves.” “He understands now,” said Avia. “Look.” They all looked at Ugu, who did indeed seem to have recovered himself. He fidgeted under their scrutiny. “It’s true I haven’t been paying much attention,” he explained rather nervously. “And anyway, where would I hide a Magic Loaf? I have no bag to put it in, no pocket large enough for anything so bulky.” He opened his gray jacket to reveal a shirt wholly innocent of suspicious lumps. Lurline sighed. “Let’s divide the remaining four Loaves before anything else happens,” she said. “I myself must take one, as my own is gone. Another, I regret to say, must now be split between two of you. Are there any volunteers?” This raised another outcry from Avia, who claimed that such a division would be grossly unfair. In the end, however, both Pescus and Herpetium declared themselves content with half a Loaf. Their own powers, they insisted, would be sufficient to see them through any difficulties that might arise; and in any case, Herpetium felt that the Magic Loaves couldn’t be very powerful after so much kneading and firing. “They might do well in a dining room,” he said lightly. “Beyond that I have my doubts.” So Lurline halved one Loaf and shared out the portions as agreed. Ojo had been wondering how the advisers would carry their Loaves, for they possessed neither hands nor pockets. The solution to this problem astonished him greatly. The Queen reduced each Loaf to the size of a raisin, while sealing it with a spell that would protect it from harm. Then, one by one, each adviser tucked a tiny Loaf into his or her cheek (or beak), where it would remain intact until needed. Only Lurline chose a different hiding place: she secreted her Loaf in the soft folds of her sleeve, which swallowed it up as if it had never existed. That done, she straightened and gazed about. “Are we ready?” she asked. “Let us be off, then. It is time for the Breaking of the Egg.” The entire fairy company, men, women and creatures alike, was gathered together and led down from Cloudcourt onto the dewy grass. There, forming a huge circle around the Queen, they watched expectantly while she lifted a Magic Egg in her hands. Ojo had not yet seen a Magic Egg. He had imagined it would be a splendid thing, brilliantly golden or glittering with all the colors of nature. Instead, it resembled an egg-shaped lump of ash, roughly the size of a fist and considerably less dramatic. Yet everyone regarded it with such awe and reverence that Ojo remembered only the astonishing power hidden inside it and the great change that would occur when it shattered. Why, the entire future of Oz depended on this Egg! Lurline spoke. “My people,” she said. “Until now, whenever we created a fairyland we then left that fairyland to manage its newfound power as best it could. Not this time. This time we will stay for a few days, watching and guiding the new land as it finds its way forward. Through the virtue of the Magic Loaves, my advisers and I will attempt to draw out the very best that is in the people, the beasts, the birds, the fish and the reptiles. Our task will not be easy. There is already strong magic here, and those who wield it may not welcome our interference. But it is our duty to try, and try we will.”
She raised the Magic Egg over her head. “To the new land I say: one day
those who dwell here will call you Oz. Oz I christen you, now and for all
time. Take this Magic Egg, the gift of the Phoenix, and be forever a
fairyland – the fairyland of Oz!” Enthusiastic applause broke out on every side. All who had hands clapped loudly, while others roared, brayed, honked, twittered, croaked, howled or mewed their approval. Ojo and Onna Val jumped up and down, whistling and shouting like happy imps. “Now,” continued Lurline. “You, who wish to make your mark on the fairyland of Oz, go out and seek your path. The rest, stay here and await my return.” She drew a silver wand from her sleeve and waved it round her in a circle. Ojo saw something fizzing in the grass, something soft and white that lifted the Fairy Queen slowly up into the air. It was a cloud, a miniature of the great cloud resting a few yards away, and with a sudden surge it bore its lovely passenger over the meadow. Luba rose up on a similar cloud, her pink tongue lolling happily in the breeze, and several others did the same. Avia led a flurry of birds and fish into the crisp air, where they wheeled and darted and finally scattered in every direction. Pescus went with them, bounding aloft like a salmon swimming upstream. Farewells and good wishes filled the air. “Isn’t it exciting!” cried Onna Val. “Nothing like this has ever been done before and it’s anybody’s guess what will happen. Me, I think we’ll cause some trouble before we’re through.” She frowned. “What about you, Ojo? Any plans afoot?” Ojo had been trying not to think about his own immediate future. Now he had no choice. “I don’t quite know,” he confessed. “What I really want is to find Button-Bright, but so much time has passed that I wouldn’t know where to start.” “May I make a suggestion?” inquired a voice from behind the children. It was Ugu, looking rather anxious and forlorn as he stood with his skinny arms crossed in front of his gray jacket. “Why, certainly!” said Ojo. “You’ve been so quiet we forgot all about you. Tell us your idea.” “It may seem a little selfish on my part,” Ugu said with a blush. “But I still mean to seek out the City of Herku, away in the Winkie Country, where my former self is living as a shoemaker. Perhaps, if you’re not sure what else to do, you would consider going there with me?” “That’s a fine idea!” exclaimed Onna Val, who had heard all about Ugu’s mission. “Take him up on it, Ojo, and I’ll give the two of you a ride.” Ojo stared at her. “A ride? On what?” “On a cloud, of course. You don’t think the Queen’s advisers are the only people who can make clouds, do you? Just say the word and I’ll have us airborne in a moment.” “How kind of you!” Ugu said warmly. “My boy, do join us. With you there to back me up, I’m sure I can make my former self change his ways.” “But wouldn’t you rather see him alone?” Ojo asked confusedly. Ugu shook his head no. “The old scoundrel knows me too well. He’ll suspect a trick and will seize any excuse to disbelieve me. You, Ojo, with your honest young face, will improve my chances a great deal.” “Besides, it’ll be fun,” chimed in Onna Val. “And you said yourself you’re at a loss. Now stop fussing and say you’ll come.” Ojo hesitated. If he’d known where to search for Button-Bright he would have been off like a shot, no question. As things stood, however, one way seemed as hopeless as another. Perhaps it would be easier to let his friends decide for him. He smiled ruefully. “All right,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “It looks like we’re going to the City of Herku.”
A YOOKOOHOO WEDDING PARTY Button-Bright lay in his circle of yellow oak roots, dreaming of a past hazy and glorious. “Don’t you wish we could go there, Ojo?” he murmured, eyes tight shut. Ojo made no answer. “I said, don’t you wish we could go there?” Button-Bright repeated with a touch of annoyance. Then he sat up and looked around. Ojo was nowhere to be seen. This had never happened before. Button-Bright himself disappeared habitually, but Ojo? Never. The boy got up and called once or twice through the silent trees. Something about the lonely sound of his own voice told him that no Ojo had heard his cries. What could it mean? Had Button-Bright unwittingly fallen asleep? Had his Munchkin friend gone ahead with Ugu, leaving Button-Bright where he lay? Such a thing would be unlike Ojo, the steadiest and most faithful companion in all Oz. But then, what had happened? Pondering, Button-Bright glanced back at his yellow oak tree. Yellow? Why, the oak’s ancient trunk had turned brown, as brown as any trunk in the parks of Philadelphia! And its leaves had turned green! Increasingly puzzled, he saw that all the trees had lost their yellow hues, as had the grass, the bushes, the weeds, and every other growing thing that met his gaze. Clearly there was more afoot than Ojo’s disappearance. A small movement caught Button-Bright’s eye. Several yards off, he glimpsed a squirrel scurrying away through the fallen leaves. “Friend Squirrel!” he said at once. “Excuse me, Friend Squirrel. Do you want to know something odd? I’ve lost my friend and everything’s different. Friend Squirrel!” The squirrel paid no attention but darted away out of sight. Button-Bright sprang after it. Oz animals often enjoyed meeting new people and he could not think why this one should behave so rudely. “Friend Squirrel!” he called again. “Please wait! I mean you no harm.” There it was again, just making its escape behind a thicket. Button-Bright followed as best he could, drawn by the one living creature he could find in this isolated spot. It led him a breathless chase till at last, minutes later, it vanished altogether. He was alone again. What’s more, he’d strayed a long way from the spot where he and Ojo had enjoyed their ill-fated rest, and he doubted his ability to find it again. What should he do? That was when he noticed the path. It wasn’t a big path. Still, it looked reasonably well-trodden and it did lead upward, perhaps toward the ridge that the gray dove had mentioned. Rather than wander aimlessly through the woods, Button-Bright began to follow it. He quickly recovered his good humor. He had often found himself in situations like this, and whatever else happened he knew that exciting adventures would surely come his way. Though he would have preferred to encounter them with his friend Ojo, he felt no dread at meeting the future alone. Calm and rather curious, he made his way up the path. Soon, though, he noticed that he was making his way down the path, not up. Then the path doubled back on itself and continued downward in the opposite direction. This couldn’t be right. Below, the boy could see, the forest grew thicker and wilder, more the way it had looked in the Gillikin country. He would not find Ojo there. Button-Bright turned around and started back up the way he’d come. The same thing happened again. Just steps later the path veered down toward the dense forest. But that couldn’t be. Hadn’t this same path just brought him here from above? Perhaps he’d missed a crossroads. He retraced his steps yet again, and yet again the path pulled him down, down toward the shadows and undergrowth below. There had been no crossroads; that he knew. What was happening? “This path is tricksy,” Button-Bright said to himself. “It’s determined to take me where it wants, not where I want. And apparently I have no choice in the matter.” He hesitated, scanning the scene as if for clues. He could, of course, leave the path and make his way uphill without it. But his curiosity had been roused, along with his adventurous spirit, and he itched to discover what lay at the bottom of this magic path. Grinning, he set off downhill. Lower and lower plunged the path. Thicker and thicker grew the forest on either side. By this time, Button-Bright thought, he might easily have strayed back into the Gillikin Country, though there were no purple hues to prove it. Now the ground leveled out and the path continued straight on ahead. What could he do but follow it? Not long after, the first faint strains of music reached his ears. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Button-Bright. He walked on and the music grew louder. It sounded like dance music such as you might hear at a party or a ball. Where there was a party, he guessed, there would surely be people. He quickened his steps. The trees came to an end. He had reached a clearing ablaze with sun and, yes, music. He stopped and looked about. What lay before him was indeed a party, a big outdoor one complete with guests milling about, picnic tables loaded with food and drink, and what might have been a platform for speech-making. Most everyone, Button-Bright observed, wore various shades of purple, confirming his suspicion that he’d been lured back into the Gillikin country. A few of the guests, however, wore red, blue or yellow. These, presumably, were visitors from the Quadling, Munchkin and Winkie countries of Oz. On the opposite side of the clearing Button-Bright could see a small, round, purple-shingled house. A verandah encircled the entire structure, and on that verandah, watching the party absorbedly, sat an old woman with a purple scarf tied round her neck. On this side of the clearing, just in front of Button-Bright, three young children were playing some unguessable game that involved much squealing, screaming and general noise. It looked like fun. While he watched, a green lizard darted out of the group and fled between his own dusty feet. Immediately a small boy cannoned into him, gathered himself up and pounced on the green lizard. “L is for lizard!” shrieked the boy, who could not have been more than five years old. “I’ve got you, Jenta. Change, change!” The lizard transformed itself into a girl, even younger than the boy and so furious that her face had gone absolutely pink. “You cheated!” she yelled, and scrambled right over Button-Bright, who had been knocked down in the melee. She crouched on his stomach, glaring, while a slightly older girl hurried to join them. “He peeked, Bina!” Jenta told her. “Kram peeked. I get another turn!” “Kram did not peek,” Bina retorted. “You decided to be something green, same as always. So you got caught. Now it’s Kram’s turn.” Kram was regarding Button-Bright. So was Jenta. “Green is my favorite color!” Jenta declared, eyeing the stranger’s outfit. “Who are you?” Button-Bright liked her. “Get off my stomach and I’ll tell you,” he said, smiling. She slid down to his legs so that he could sit up. “Tell!” commanded Jenta. “Tell!” echoed the others. “Very well. I’m Button-Bright. Now you know.” They scrutinized him. Bina said to Kram, “He’s not a Gillikin. Is he one of the Winkie cousins?” “Can’t be,” said Kram. “No yellow.” “No blue, either,” Bina pointed out. “So he’s not a Munchkin cousin.” “He’s all green,” said Jenta, possessively grabbing a handful of his shirt front. “And he has a funny name. I think he’s something new.” “Can you transform?” demanded Kram. “Wait a minute!” Button-Bright protested. “I told you my name. Now it’s my turn to ask you something. Whose party is this?” They all frowned. “Don’t you know?” said Jenta. Button-Bright chuckled. “Oops. You caught me. Truth is I don’t know anybody here. I came by mistake.” “Then you’re not a Yookoohoo?” Bina’s face took on a scandalized expression. “Why, no,” Button-Bright said with a queer tightening in his stomach. He had heard of Yookoohoos before, and he began to wonder if this party was really a safe place to be. “Are there Yookoohoos here?” “We’re all Yookoohoos!” boasted Bina. “Us kids are Gillikin Yookoohoos and Grandma Natch is our aunt. Well, our great-aunt. She’s head of all the Gillikin Yookoohoos. That’s her house.” “And that’s Grandma Natch!” said Kram, indicating the old woman with the purple scarf. Button-Bright noticed that Grandma Natch was watching him, now, rather than the party. Jenta noticed it too. She got up. “Grandma Natch sees you, Button-Bright. Come on. We’ll take you to meet her.” It seemed clear by now who had masterminded the magic path. Resistance could only bring disaster. Button-Bright allowed himself to be led round the edge of the clearing toward Grandma Natch’s verandah, and as he walked he tried to remember what little he knew of the Yookoohoos. Only one Yookoohoo came to mind. This was Mrs. Yoop, a giantess who had heartlessly conferred new shapes on the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, and even a powerful fairy called Polychrome. All had been helpless to combat Mrs. Yoop’s magic. Her enchantments, once complete, had been dreadfully difficult to break. Button-Bright hoped that the nasty Mrs. Yoop had not been invited to Grandma Natch’s party and, further, that these Yookoohoos were of a kinder sort altogether. Here was the verandah. The Yookoohoo children did not step up onto it but rather clustered alongside it shouting, “Grandma Natch! Grandma Natch! This is Button-Bright! He’s a stranger! Grandma Natch!” Grandma Natch leaned forward in her rocking chair. At once the childish shouting stopped. Indeed, all the laughter, conversation and assorted hubbub of the party seemed to die away. The very music fell silent. “You three,” Grandma Natch said in the eerie hush. “Go play. Button-Bright: stay!” Then she leaned back. That was enough for Jenta, Kram and Bina. First giggling, then laughing outright, they bolted across the clearing. The noise of the party returned, like water poured into a pitcher. All seemed normal again, but Button-Bright could not help feeling that the eyes of the Yookoohoo guests were now upon him. Certainly Grandma Natch’s eyes were upon him. Scrunched up inside a face full of tiny wrinkles, they glinted like jet-black stones at the bottom of a narrow well. “You’re a stranger,” the old woman said at length. “That’s what you told my Jenta.” “Yes, ma’am,” said Button-Bright. “Yookoohoo?” “No, ma’am, not a Yookoohoo.” “Indeed.” Grandma Natch squinted in apparent disbelief. “A Yoop, then?” “No!” Button-Bright said, a little too loudly. Were there Yoops here after all? “I mean, no ma’am. I definitely am not a Yoop.” “Didn’t think you were.” Grandma Natch looked out over the party. “I suppose you can tell me if there are any Quadling Yookoohoos among my guests. Eh?” Button-Bright turned and searched out the red-clad guests. “There,” he said, pointing. “And there and there.” He eyed Grandma Natch. “Was that a test? If so, it was an awfully easy one.” “Hah!” Grandma Natch gave an explosive cackle and slapped her knee. “True enough,” she chortled, “if you happen to know what’s what in this land. Oh yes. Then you can point out the Winkies too? And the Munchkins?” Button-Bright did, to her obvious satisfaction. “Very good,” she nodded. “Oh yes, very good indeed. Now, we both know there are a great many Yookoohoo Gillikins present, eh? I’m one myself.” “Yes, ma’am.” “Oh yes. I am that. But tell me now, if you can, whether there are any Yoops among my guests.” Grandma Natch pronounced the word “Yoop” with a sneer that Button-Bright only just detected. That sneer stayed with him as once again he scanned the party for – what? Giants, like the one that had so cruelly transformed his friends? There were no giants here. Who, then? Soon his glance fell on a small clump of Gillikins standing apart. Their purple attire exactly matched the Gillikin fashion, but something else about them drew his notice: to a man, they watched the general goings-on with a combination of prideful disdain and clammy-palmed apprehension. One in particular, a pompous gentleman wearing a purple hat, seemed born for Yookoohoo sneering. “Yoops,” said Button-Bright, and pointed. “Hah!” cried Grandma Natch, slapping her knee again. “Picked them out of a crowd, oh yes, picked them right out in no time! Hard to believe you’re not a Yookoohoo. Yes, very hard indeed. Well, Button-Bright, since you know so much, perhaps you can tell me why there should be Yoops at a Yookoohoo party?” At this, Button-Bright’s hackles rose. “How could I know that?” he demanded. Grandma Natch screamed with laughter. “Well said!” she cackled. “No way in the world you could know that. So I’ll tell you. This, my boy, is a Yookoohoo wedding. And not just any Yookoohoo wedding, no indeed. At this wedding, for the first time in history, a Yookoohoo woman has married an ordinary man. Yes she has, just one hour ago. And not just any ordinary man, but a Yoop! Mayor Yoop’s son, if you can believe that.” “It seems incredible,” Button-Bright said truthfully. His mind was racing. “So this Yookoohoo woman who married a Yoop – she’ll be called Mrs. Yoop?” More screams of laughter ensued. “Oh yes!” cried Grandma Natch, almost overcome. “Oh yes! The youngest of my three daughters, Moyna Natch that was, is now Mrs. Yoop, wife to Mr. Yoop, daughter-in-law to Mayor Yoop, intimate relation to a whole plague of grasping, greedy, social-climbing Yoops. And what of the bride’s mother? That’s myself, poor old Grandma Natch. What of me, you’re asking? Left behind, abandoned, cursed with an empty nest. What have I to say? Why, it’s the best news I’ve had in my life! Let her go, with her foolish airs, her high-toned ways, her haughty talk. More Yoop than Yookoohoo, that’s my youngest daughter. Let her go and good riddance. At last my home is my own again!” As far as Button-Bright could tell, Grandma Natch meant every word she had said. So real was her glee, in fact, that he found himself grinning along with her and laughing at the detested Yoops. Nevertheless, a problem had arisen and he could not let it go. “Grandma Natch,” he said. “You told me that no Yookoohoo has ever married a Yoop before. Is that right?” “Oh yes!” said Grandma Natch, rocking happily. “No Yoops till now, no, nor ordinary folk of any kind. That’s why my cantankerous relatives have dragged themselves to this party. Their curiosity got the better of them and they couldn’t stay away. All except my eldest daughter. Now, she and her sister Reera are sensible girls. They left home without ever getting married at all!” “I’m sure you’re very proud,” said Button-Bright. “But this is puzzling. Some friends of mine once got in trouble with a Mrs. Yoop, a terrible person, who was also a Yookoohoo. And a giantess too. Isn’t that odd?” Grandma Natch stopped rocking. “A Yookoohoo?” she said. “Called Mrs. Yoop?” Button-Bright nodded. Grandma Natch leaned forward. “Tell!” she said. Then, of course, he had to recount the whole story. He didn’t know it in anything like the detail that Grandma Natch wanted, so he also described the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, the Land of Oz, Ozma who ruled it, and a great many other matters. Through it all, Grandma Natch made no comment whatsoever but listened and asked questions as if Button-Bright were an embassy from some new and astounding principality. Finally the story swung round to Ojo and Ugu and the strange events of this morning. “It was the oddest thing,” Button-Bright explained. “I was talking about the Ring of Time, and Queen Lurline, and I said, ‘I wish – ‘” He stopped. His gaze met Grandma Natch’s. Understanding dawned in them both. “You’re a visitor from the future,” Grandma Natch said wonderingly. “Oh yes, that’s exactly what you are. Now don’t panic. Stay calm, and tell me what it was you wished. Tell me the exact words.” Button-Bright told her. Grandma Natch listened and nodded. “That’s it, then,” she said solemnly. “That ridiculous woman, that stranger, that fairy, is going to turn a perfectly pleasant country -- my country -- into a fairyland. Oh yes, that’s what’s going to happen. And it’s going to happen today.” Button-Bright sympathized. For his own part, he was glad to understand how he’d gotten so irretrievably lost, but it pained him to see Grandma Natch (whom he very much liked) downcast. “I’m sorry about your daughter Moyna,” he said. “What? Why?” “Because she’s going to turn out so badly.” “My daughter? Pah! Good riddance! This business with Queen Lurline, that’s the important thing. There may not be much I can do about it, an old Yookoohoo like me. But I might just give that fairy a piece of my mind. Oh yes, I might do that. Now wait a moment while I –“ “Attention!” someone called out from across the clearing. Button-Bright and Grandma Natch looked up in surprise. They’d forgotten the rest of the party. “Attention, please!” the same voice repeated. It was Mayor Yoop, poised now atop the speaker’s platform. “I am Mayor Yoop,” he went on unnecessarily, in tones as bloated as his waistline. “And I was expecting to make a speech just now. That is what you would wish, my dear friends, and it saddens me not to oblige you. But my new daughter-in-law has made it clear that she wishes – requires – to make the speech herself. Most irregular, as you know. But it is her day, after all, and in deference to her feelings I must say – “ At this point the Mayor’s purple hat changed, quite suddenly, into a large serpent. There followed a great commotion in which outraged Yoops rushed to the Mayor’s aid, while the Yookoohoos argued over whose bright idea the transformation had been. The clamor seemed apt to go on for quite some time. So it was probably just as well that a tall and commanding young woman, a Gillikin Yookoohoo, strode to the speaker’s platform and took it upon herself to quiet the unruly assemblage. “My daughter,” Grandma Natch told Button-Bright. “Mrs. Moyna Yoop. Chances are this speech will be a long one. Have some lunch, why don’t you?” Button-Bright was only too glad to obey.
YOOPS ON THE RISE While Mrs. Yoop attempted to quiet her prospective listeners, Button-Bright felt a tug on his trouser seat. It was the girl Jenta. “I can’t see!” she said accusingly, and held up her small arms. “Is that so?” Button-Bright squinted down at her. “Well, why don’t you turn that weed there into a step-stool?” “Don’t want a step-stool,” said Jenta, wriggling her outstretched fingers. Button-Bright couldn’t resist. He swung her up off the ground and settled her firmly on his shoulders, where she twined her chubby fingers into his hair. “Auntie Moyna’s making a speech,” she said. “I see that. Do you like your Auntie Moyna?” Jenta emitted a sizzling noise like spit on a hot griddle. Button-Bright took this for an emphatic negative. “You know what?” inquired Jenta. “Auntie Moyna has a problem.” “What problem is that?” Jenta lowered her voice as if she were imparting a delicious family secret. “It’s her trans’mations. She can’t change ‘em. Suppose she made a step-stool, like you said. Then she’d have that step-stool forever. She couldn’t change it into something else. Isn’t that awful?” “Awful,” Button-Bright agreed. “You don’t have that problem?” “No!” asserted Jenta. “Nobody else has it. Grandma Natch has it when she wants it, but only Auntie Moyna has it all the time. I think it’s funny.” She gave a satisfied cackle that would have done justice to Grandma Natch herself. Then she straightened. Moyna Yoop, formerly Moyna Natch, had succeeded in calming the crowd and hustling her in-laws off the platform. Her speech was about to commence. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she cried. “You all know my lowly origins: born in this cramped hovel, reared without benefit of higher education. Who could have guessed that a lofty future would grow from my small start?” Whistles and catcalls greeted this opening. A pebble bounced onto the platform and was promptly transformed into a goose egg. “Lowly origins, eh?” muttered Grandma Natch, who had left her verandah to join Button-Bright. “I’ll give her lowly origins, oh yes.” Mrs. Yoop ignored the interruption. “Unlike my many relatives, hermits who enjoy wallowing in obscurity, I believed I could find ways to attain new heights, to rise out of the dust and walk with giants. I found these giants in the family of my new husband, Ogram Yoop.” Here, amid further expressions of Yookoohoo scorn and contempt, Mrs. Yoop beckoned to someone in the audience. She was quickly joined by a fellow whose distinguishing characteristic was his hair: not just the masses of curly hair on his head but a curly beard that left no room for mouth parts, and even a coarse pelt on the backs of his hands. “It is my great honor” – the fellow began. “Hush, Ogram!” snapped his wife. “I give the speech. You stand behind me and keep quiet. Understand?” Ogram Yoop ducked behind her, but other Yoops objected strenuously. “Without my son you’re nothing more than a backwoods sorceress!” shouted a woman wearing an unusually self-important corsage. “Let him speak!” “My wife is right!” bellowed Mayor Yoop. “If you want to ride on our coattails, then let the coattails do the talking!” This peculiar turn of phrase earned a derisive Yookoohoo laugh. But Moyna Yoop stood firm. “Everyone knows the eminent Yoop family,” she cried. “Pillars of their community; looked up to by all. Mayor Yoop looms tall in his Gillikin town. But how much greater that Yoop will be who has at his side a powerful enchantress! On this platform you see the Yoops of the future, Yoops whose accomplishments will dwarf those of their forbears, Yoops who will come to tower over a grateful world. Look up, Gillikins, for it is on high that you will behold us as we climb our road to glory!” This last had to be screamed, not just over Yookoohoo heckling but over a sudden wind that rose from the east and rattled the trees. One or two hats were whipped from their owners’ heads. Grandma Natch sniffed the air like a bloodhound scenting danger. Then she raised her arms. “The change!” she shouted in a voice that easily drowned out both the wind and her daughter’s speech. “Look sharp, Yookoohoos! The change!” Moyna paused. The wind vanished as quickly as it had arisen. An air of expectancy seized the bewildered throng. Jenta, still perched on Button-Bright’s shoulders, saw it first. “Look at the trees!” she said wonderingly. “Look at their trunks.” Everyone looked. Creeping up the trunks of the trees they saw a tide of purple, Gillikin purple that rose up into branches and spread itself out into leaves. Shrubs too, and even the grass beneath their feet, all found their own particular purple, a riot of variegated purple as far as the eye could see. Button-Bright smiled. This, he and Grandma Natch both realized, was the work of Queen Lurline. They were witnessing the creation of a fairyland! “Am I going to turn purple?” he heard Jenta asking plaintively. “No,” he reassured her. “No one will turn purple.” “Let me down,” she said. “I want to touch the purple grass. I like it.” As he complied, he heard a scream from the speaker’s platform. “My hands!” shrieked Moyna Yoop. “My feet! They’re swelling up!” This was true. Mrs. Yoop’s extremities, and her husband’s too, were swelling up like balloons. Both looked like victims of an unspeakable disease. Then, as if something popped inside them, a bubble of air shuddered through their bodies, pushing them upward and outward. They had grown by two feet! Mrs. Yoop sputtered and Mr. Yoop gurgled, but it did them no good. More swelling followed, more bubbles of air, and they shot up an entire yard! Mrs. Yoop may have planned to walk with giants, but she wailed as she felt herself turning into one. Lesser Yoops backed away from the burgeoning newlyweds. Yookoohoos stared in rapt fascination. As for Grandma Natch, she gave an impassive snort. “One good thing,” she remarked. “Whether this marriage lasts or not, Moyna won’t be coming home to my place. Oh no. She’s too big!” The Yoops had now grown twice as tall as anyone else present, and still they grew, swelling and stretching as if they’d never stop. Moyna warned her relatives to stop whatever spell they’d cast. “Turn it off!” she scolded. “I don’t care which of you did it, just turn it off and leave us alone!” But the Yookoohoos could not stop what they had not started. Only the unpredictable power of a Magic Egg could do that, as it finally did when the Yoops had reached a height of almost seven yards. In one final burst their bodies and heads caught up with their hands and feet. And there they remained, outsized and outraged. Mrs. Yoop surveyed the crowd wrathfully. Button-Bright knew she was looking for someone to blame. “You!” she panted at last, glaring at Grandma Natch. “You’ve always hated me. You’re the one who did it! I see it in your eyes!” “You see no such thing!” snapped the old woman, seizing Button-Bright’s hand as she marched to the front of the platform. “And don’t you loom over me that way! I’m still your mother, oh yes I am, with more magic than you’ll ever possess. All the same, you should realize this was no transformation of mine.” “Who did it, then? My sister Reera? Did you put her up to it?” “Indeed she did not,” said a low voice from beside the platform. Button-Bright saw that the speaker was a young Gillikin maiden, red-haired and fair-faced, who could only be Grandma Natch’s middle daughter. “If it had been up to me,” she went on, “I suppose I might have made you smaller than you were. But larger? Not I! Still, I don’t know why you mind it so much.” “Oh no?” Mrs. Yoop tossed her huge head. “Reera Natch, how would you like it if your skull burst through the ceiling one fine day?” “Not at all,” Reera admitted calmly. “But you two are so ambitious, I would have thought you’d be pleased. You always wanted to move up in the world.” “That’s true, my dear,” Mr. Yoop reminded his wife. “You said so in your inspiring speech. A higher social station has been your fondest wish.” “Nothing is too grand for the likes of us,” Mrs. Yoop said haughtily. “We must place ourselves above the common herd.” “Just so,” said Reera while a suppressed titter ran through the crowd. All the Yookoohoos were enjoying the scene immensely. Reera went on, “And now you’ll have no difficulty moving in the highest circles. So surely this is a time for celebration, not anger. Don't you think so?” Mrs. Yoop had an interested air, but she was not yet ready to give up her indignation. “That’s very nice, I’m sure,” she sniffed. “But what a lot of inconvenience! Sizable persons such as ourselves cannot be expected to blunder through huge trees wherever we go.” “Oh, I agree,” said Reera. “And if I were you I’d think about leaving this neighborhood. For miles around there’s not a soul worth bothering about, but in the towns there are people who will appreciate your stature.” “Do you think so?” “Indeed I do. Why, you might even come to rule one day.” “We might at that,” said Mrs. Yoop, now openly intrigued. “I’m sure we could make excellent rulers. And really, when you think of it, we have no reason to stay here. Our home is now useless and this environment will never do. Perhaps, as you say, we should give up our forest ways for city life.” “Of course we’ll miss you terribly,” said Reera, trying not to laugh. “No doubt you will,” Mrs. Yoop replied pityingly. “Your lives here in the forest will be poorer and lonelier when we’re gone. We, on the other hand, will be so caught up in our exciting new life that we’ll never miss you at all. In fact, the likelihood is that we’ll forget you by the end of one week.” “Or perhaps two,” Mr. Yoop said generously. “And you’ll want to leave at once,” said Reera. “You have no clothes to pack, for anything you’re not wearing will no longer fit you. And you don’t need your furniture, which is much too small. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if you left this minute. You are such decisive people.” The Yoops looked at each other. “Let’s pack lunch,” said Mr. Yoop. “There will be magic lunch when we get there,” answered his wife. “Huh!” Mr. Yoop rolled his eyes disgustedly. “A few pebbles turned into muffins. Magic marmalade is delicious, but I want meat too. Real meat! And now that I’m four times bigger than anyone else, I suppose I can feast on any living thing I see. Why, I can devour a few of my new in-laws. Isn’t that so, Wife?” This notion startled Mrs. Yoop. She began to protest, then hesitated and swept a speculative glance across her extended family. The Yookoohoos waited, not with fear but with interest, to find out what her response might be. She made up her mind soon enough. “Eat what you like,” she decided. “I wash my hands of the whole tribe.” If this took Button-Bright by surprise, what happened next was even more astounding. On every side, Yookoohoos transformed themselves into creatures that could run or fly to safety. Swift rabbits scattered underfoot. Dragonflies skimmed across the clearing and into the woods. As for birds, these were so many and so varied that they melted into a blur of beating wings. Some bred confusion by flying directly into the face of Mr. Yoop, who waved his arms in panic. Even Jenta must have chosen a new shape, though Button-Bright never knew what it was. Only Grandma Natch stood with her feet planted and her hands on her hips, refusing to transform herself. Instead, she launched a tirade that would have set anyone reeling, with the possible exception of her daughters. And this, perhaps, was why Moyna Yoop succeeded in doing what she now did. She reached down, seized Button-Bright and thrust him into her husband’s coat pocket! It was a large pocket as pockets go, but still a tight fit for the boy. Moreover, it had a button-down flap that someone hastened to secure. “There!” Button-Bright heard Mrs. Yoop say. “Now let’s run before Mother realizes what’s happened!” Ogram Yoop must have taken this advice, for there commenced a long, bumpy, airless ride for the sadly cramped Button-Bright. At first all he heard was splintering branches and clattering leaves. The Yoops were too huge to make their way quietly through dense forest, so they bashed down what they could not push aside. It was Button-Bright’s impression that Mr. Yoop had charged on ahead, for he took the brunt of the tree-bashing. No one had an easy time, however, till they reached the Forest’s end and emerged onto a treeless plain. How long they strode, Button-Bright could not have said. Fiercely though he clung to the inner lining of his prison, he could find no respite from its perpetual swing and bounce. At length, tired out, he simply slid to the bottom and waited for whatever would happen next. Yoop voices sometimes reached him. Mrs. Yoop had dreadful things to say about her relatives, a subject that tempted her into long and shapeless reminiscences. Once she broke off long enough to point out a town: too small, she deemed, for her great ambitions. And several times, Mr. Yoop let it be known that he was feeling hungry. Then Mrs. Yoop gave a cry of real excitement. “There!” she exclaimed. “A city! A real walled city, right here in the Winkie Country. Stop, Ogram!” They stopped. Button-Bright listened intently. “Doesn’t it look splendid!” breathed Mrs. Yoop. “All those spires and domes towering over the high walls! That city will be ours, Ogram. By dinnertime tonight it will be ours!” “Dinnertime?” Mr. Yoop was aghast. “What about lunchtime? I’m hungry.” “Hungry, hungry, always hungry! As if there weren’t marmalade enough at that miserable party.” “Magic marmalade,” grumbled Mr. Yoop. “I want my meat!” “Oh, very well,” Mrs. Yoop sighed. “We’ll stop here. But as soon as we’re finished, those city-folk will get their first taste of real authority. And then you’ll see something!” Button-Bright stiffened as a great hairy hand ripped open his prison and drew him out into the dazzling sunshine. What did the giant mean to do? Eat him raw on the spot? Apparently this decision had not yet been made. Mr. Yoop and his lunch regarded each other dubiously, each unsure what was expected of him. Seconds ticked by while options were weighed. And during those seconds, someone acted. Button-Bright was transformed into a tiny hummingbird. He barely realized it himself. Indeed, his conscious mind might well have left him dangling while it assessed the situation. But his wings knew their business, and they shot him straight up past the incredulous eyes of Mr. Yoop to freedom. By the time the unlucky giant managed to react, his prey had buzzed out of reach and out of sight. “My lunch!” was the mournful howl that rose up toward the noontime sky. Button-Bright heard it and rejoiced. He had escaped! Someone had helped him. But who? “That makes me feel better. Oh yes, indeed it does.” Here was another hummingbird buzzing alongside him. And oddly enough, it wore a tiny purple scarf around its tiny neck. “Grandma Natch?” Button-Bright hazarded as he flew. “Right on the first guess!” said the other hummingbird. “You saved me!” marveled Button-Bright. “Oh, I had to. For one thing, you’re my favorite ever uninvited guest. And for another, I couldn’t let my dreadful daughter get away with a trick like that. Oh no, I could not. So I followed you here and took my chance. Isn’t it odd, my getting out of the Forest this way? I don’t entirely like it. But now let’s find a good place to sit down – say, the top of that city wall just below. Then we’ll think what to do.” They buzzed down to the wall, where they sat overlooking a great yellow plain on one side and a bustling metropolis on the other. Button-Bright’s long bill pointed this way and that as he surveyed the spectacle. “This must be the city your daughter wants,” he told Grandma Natch. “What do you mean, boy?” He explained what Mrs. Yoop had said about city-folk getting their first taste of real authority. Grandma Natch wore what would pass, in hummingbird circles, for a grin. “I see,” she said. “Yes, I do see. My daughter intends to rule here. And what do you think of all this, my intelligent young friend? How do you view dear Moyna’s little plan? Tell me honestly.” Button-Bright looked down at the yellow-clad Winkies hurrying along their city streets. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” he said. “When you think about it. These people probably have a ruler already, a ruler they’re used to. They haven’t asked for a new one. And even if they have, it probably wouldn’t be your daughter.” “No,” agreed Grandma Natch. “No, it probably would not. Not that I care, really. These people are nothing to me. I could go back home and forget all about them, oh yes, I could.” She gave a small piping chuckle. “On the other hand, I would dearly love to have some fun with my daughter after all the trouble she’s put me to. That fuss at the party! Yes, I would dearly love a bit of fun. So it seems to me, my boy, that while our motives may differ, our conclusions are the same.” “They are?” “They are. Mrs. Yoop has got to be stopped. And if this city were to acquire some permanent giants of its own, that might just do the trick.” Grandma Natch’s tiny hummingbird eye gazed out across the yellow plain. “After that, my boy, perhaps you’ll accompany me on one more mission. I have a mind to look up that fairy queen of yours, oh yes I do. I’ve got a few things to say that she most certainly needs to hear.”
UGU’S HOMECOMING
It was Ugu’s decision to land the cloud outside the city gates. “We will be conspicuous enough as it is,” he said. “Remember, these people know me already as an old man living in their midst. It will surprise them to see me coming in from the outside, never mind talking to my former self. Of course, Herku is not a normal city. Once a year the inhabitants drink an elixir called zosozo, which makes them as thin as skeletons but incredibly strong. That’s why they can keep huge giants as slaves.” “Giants!” echoed Onna Val. “I could have had a giant slave myself,” Ugu said, “if I’d been more prosperous. I remember it all so well.” “Then you must remember today, the day of the Magic Egg,” said Onna Val. “Ah,” said Ugu. “But in fact I do not. Ojo and I have discussed this. Odd, isn’t it?” “It certainly is,” said Onna Val. “What happened to your memory, I wonder?” There was no obvious answer to this question, however, and she soon lost interest in it. By means of a few low commands she moved her cloud to within yards of the city wall, then landed it on the yellow grass. Lastly she made it disappear altogether. “I can call it back whenever I want to,” she explained. They approached a normal-sized gate, locked but not unusually imposing. Onna Val wanted to know how the giants got in and out. “They don’t,” replied Ugu. “They stay inside the City at all times. But you’ll see them peeking over the wall when I knock. It’s their job to examine strangers before the gatekeeper lets them in. Watch.” Ugu rapped loudly, then stepped back and craned up toward the wall’s summit. The children eagerly followed his gaze, but no giant heads heaved into view. Ugu frowned. “The wretched things must be asleep on the job,” he complained. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he yelled, “Hey! You in there! Open the gate!” The gate did open, allowing the trio to enter a small chamber built inside the wall. There they were greeted, not by a giant servant, nor even by a stringy superman master, but by a chubby man wearing ordinary Winkie attire. “Mr. Shoemaker!” The gatekeeper stared. “What were you doing outside the City?” Ugu regarded the gatekeeper and his chamber with obvious puzzlement. “I don’t recognize you,” he said. “And this room. Is it a new addition?” “New? Of course it isn’t, as you know very well. Mr. Shoemaker, you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? You’re playing a trick on your old friend Kodgen.” “Kodgen!” Now it was Ugu’s turn to stare. “You’re Kodgen? Why, man, what’s the matter with you? You must not have taken your yearly dose of zosozo.” “My what?” said the baffled gatekeeper. “Is that some kind of medicine? Do I look ill?” “Your zosozo, man, your zosozo!” Ugu was almost shouting now. “The strengthening elixir. As you are, you’re easy prey for the giants.” Now the bewildered Kodgen grew pale. “Giants! We’re being attacked by giants?” “The giants are already here!” yelled Ugu, waving his arms in exasperation. “They’re right outside!” He pointed toward the inner door, the one leading into the City, but this detail was missed. Kodgen flung himself headlong into the streets of Herku, shouting, “Help! Murder! Fire! Giants are attacking the City!” Ugu hastened after, only to find himself cut off by a knot of people who immediately surrounded the gatekeeper and peppered him with questions. Ojo could hear the man babbling, “Ugu saw them! Outside the gate right now! They’re giants, I tell you! We must fight for our lives or we’ll all be conquered!” He appeared ready to go on this way indefinitely. As they couldn’t get close enough to stop him, Ugu and the children crept quietly past the growing throng and made their way into the City. Cries rang out behind them and frightened people were seen dashing up the street. “So, Mr. Shoemaker,” Onna Val said slyly. “This is the city where skeleton strong men keep giant slaves. I guess you had us fooled.” “Not at all!” Ugu protested. “I lived here and I tell you we did have giant slaves. And we were all skin and bone from our yearly dose of zosozo.” “Like that fat gatekeeper?” said Onna Val. “Well, at least you keep your story straight, even if the facts don’t quite match up.” “I think Ugu is telling the truth,” said Ojo. “A lot of my friends from Oz have visited Herku, including Button-Bright. They all tell the same story.” “I don’t know why we should take Button-Bright’s word for it,” argued Onna Val. “A boy who gets lost every five minutes? Anyway, the proof is in the pudding. We’re here and the giants aren’t. Neither are the skeletons.” “Not yet,” Ojo corrected her. But remember, this is the part of history everyone has forgotten. Maybe the giants just haven’t happened yet.” Ugu had had enough. “Stop, stop!” he exclaimed. “Right now it’s more important for us to find my old shop, which is right around that next corner. Come on.” While they were talking they had entered a narrow street lined with small homes rather than public buildings. They turned the corner, as Ugu had instructed, and immediately found the particular house they sought. It was a tiny place, painted a sickly shade of yellow, with only one grimy window and no welcome mat. Over the door hung a weatherworn sign that read:
UGU THE SHOEMAKER NEW SHOES FITTED, OLD SHOES REPAIRED ALSO LACES, LEATHER AND LEGGINGS
Ojo didn’t know what to say. It was Onna Val who commented, “Not much to look at.” “No, it’s not.” Ugu’s face wore an odd expression, surprised and sad at the same time. “I’d forgotten how dingy it was. Poor old fellow, living in a place like that. No wonder he’s unhappy. Will he be glad to see us, I wonder?” “We won’t find out till we go in,” replied Onna Val. “Shall we?” She strode toward the door without waiting for an answer, but Ojo pulled her back. “Wait!” he cried. “Shouldn’t we let Ugu go first? It’s his mission, not ours.” They turned to look at Ugu, who stood on the pavement with his wrinkled hands clasped in front of his chest. He did not appear very eager. Onna Val was on the point of saying so when she heard a rusty creak behind her. She and Ojo jumped aside while Ugu gasped as if he’d been punched in the stomach. All three peered at the dark doorway. Staring out at them, with a look that could have quelled the stoutest heart, was Ugu the Shoemaker. Both Ugus stood stock still. Though the first was clad all in gray and the second in sadly faded Winkie yellow, they appeared otherwise indistinguishable. Only their eyes, Ojo thought, betrayed them; for while Gray Ugu’s had an anxious, pleading look, Yellow Ugu’s glared suspiciously from under a furrowed brow. Onna Val grew impatient. “All right,” she spoke up at last. “Time for some introductions. Mr. Shoemaker, my name is Onna Val and I’m a fairy traveling with Queen Lurline. This is Ojo, a Munchkin boy who’s come to our time from the future. And this gentleman, whom you no doubt recognize, also comes from the future. He’s your own future self.” “My future self?” Yellow Ugu’s eyelids squinted over a watchful pair of eyes. “I’m too old to have much future outside the grave. Or if I do, I’ll surely look a great deal older than this fellow does. Why, he’s no older than I am right now.” His eyes narrowed still further. Suddenly he snarled, “Who are you really? A pack of magicians come to steal the secrets of my ancestors? I’ve been anticipating something like this. But you’ll find nothing here. All that magic is lost, you can be sure, or I myself would be ruling the City of Herku right now!” “My poor friend, don’t say that.” Gray Ugu, who had been staring mutely at his twin, now roused himself to speech. “Power of that kind is nothing but a trap leading to sorrow and loneliness. Believe me, I know. I’ve sought power and I’ve lost it too. Now I wish I’d stayed on in Herku, a humble shoemaker.” “Do you indeed?” scoffed his former self. “That proves you’re an impostor. Never could I turn into such a namby-pamby creature, scared of the one thing I want above all else. If I did seek power, I’d find it; and if I found it, I’d keep it.” “Oh but you won’t,” Gray Ugu contradicted him. “You’ll be utterly defeated and all your power taken from you. Spare yourself that. Give up the dreams that are eating you alive at this very moment.” “And do what? Entrust my magical heritage to you for safekeeping? Even if I knew where it was, I wouldn’t give it to a fake. Your clever disguise hasn’t fooled me for one instant. Underneath your false front is a cheap magician with less power than the least of my ancestors. I couldn’t be bothered to steal the few small tricks you possess. Leave me in peace. I have work to do.” “How dare you call me a cheap magician!” snapped Gray Ugu, finally nettled. “I’ve had all Oz in my power and I’ve baffled the Sorceress herself with my magic. But I’m here to tell you it did no good whatever. If you challenge the world, the world will win. Or if you do win, your victory will be a hollow one. It’s not worth it. Stay here and make shoes instead. You’ll be happier if you do.” Yellow Ugu laughed rudely. “Quite the fortune-teller, aren’t you? Chockfull of instructive news about what will happen. I’m touched. What won’t happen, apparently, is my decay and death. As I’ve pointed out, dear Self, you don’t seem to have aged a day. Explain that.” “I will,” Gray Ugu said stoutly. “And I can tell you, what’s more, that in the last two hours you yourself have already stopped aging. Yes, it’s true! This girl’s mistress, Queen Lurline, turned the whole country into a fairyland this very morning. We saw her do it. Now, you don’t know what that means yet, but we of the future know that you’ve all stopped growing older. You’ll never grow older again. So I, your future self, do indeed look just like you. It’s because I haven’t aged a bit in all that time, and neither has anyone else.” The others braced themselves for a fresh blast of scorn and derision. It never came. Instead, a look of doubt crept into Yellow Ugu’s squinty eyes. He hesitated, then asked a question that seemed to stick in his throat. “What do you know of the strange event that occurred here this morning?” “Which event?” asked Onna Val. “All the plants have turned yellow,” he replied. “It was very sudden. One minute everything was normal; next minute every bit of greenery had turned as yellow as the clothes I wear. Did your Queen make that happen?” His double nodded. “That was one effect of her magic, yes. And it’s not just your city. If you were to look outside your walls, you’d find that the whole landscape has turned yellow. You now live in a fairyland.” “I see.” Yellow Ugu was beginning to take on a shaken look, as if the earth had dropped out from under his feet. “And because this is a fairyland,” he said, “everyone will live forever, just as they are right now. Is that what you’re telling me?” “Absolutely!” Gray Ugu rubbed his hands together, pleased to have made a dent in his twin’s hard armor. But his relief was short-lived. “What a disaster!” Yellow Ugu moaned. “To be a shoemaker, nothing but a shoemaker, for the rest of eternity, it’s a nightmare come true! It’s more than I can bear.” “Why, you stupid man!” cried Onna Val. “The whole point is that you’re not going to be a shoemaker forever, even though you should! You’re going to make a terrible fool of yourself, kidnapping people, stealing all sorts of magic, trying to be greater than you are. And it won’t turn out at all well. That’s why we’re here to talk you out of it. Now do you see?” In spite of his alarm, the Shoemaker drew himself up to his full height. “I do see,” he hissed. “I see everything. You’ve come to steal my ancestors’ books, haven’t you! And the thief who sent you is Queen Lurline herself. Having found out what great sorcerers my people were, she’s grown jealous of their power. But the joke is on her. There’s not a scrap of magic left in my house.” “Wrong again!” Gray Ugu declared triumphantly. “I am your future self and here’s the proof: I know where our ancestors’ books are!” “Stop!” Ojo was appalled. “You shouldn’t tell him that. Now he’ll find the books and start practicing magic. Isn’t that what you came to prevent?” “I will prevent it,” Gray Ugu insisted. “I’ll prevent it because my former self is seeing the error of his ways. Right now, at this very moment, he’s giving up his dreams of power and renouncing the ways of evil. Look at him!” Ojo looked. What he saw was the very image of greed and eagerness. But Gray Ugu prattled on. “Together, side by side, we Ugus will drag the forbidden books from their hiding place and make a bonfire of them. Yes! We’ll burn the legacy of our ancestors right here in the street. What a glorious moment that will be! The smoke from that blaze will mark the end of my guilt and my grief. My conscience will be clear at last. Isn’t that so, dear Ugu?” All eyes turned to the Shoemaker’s former self. At once the eagerness and greed drained from his face and were replaced by an expression as blandly innocent as a sleeping kitten’s. “Why, yes,” he purred. “That’s just what we’ll do. We’ll drag out all those terrible books and burn them. Show me where they are and we’ll start right away.” “Oh, what’s the hurry?” Ojo managed to ask. With Yellow Ugu on the scene, he realized, no books would be burned. But how to convince Gray Ugu? Something must be done or all their effort would be lost. He was on the verge of speaking out when something distracted him. A giant ran thundering past their corner. No one moved. Then the giant ran back the same way, pursued now by a winged horse with someone on its back. The thunder of giant footsteps faded into a more general hubbub that seemed to be coming from the city gate. “There!” cried Gray Ugu. “Didn’t I tell you we’d find giants in Herku? I wonder what got into that ridiculous Kodgen?” Yellow Ugu had turned rather white. “Giants in Herku!” he gasped. “I never saw a giant till today. I scarcely believe it.” “Believe it, then, and someday you can hire your own giant valet.” Onna Val was breathless with impatience. “But this is no time to explain. Let’s go see what’s happening!” “Wait a moment!” shouted Yellow Ugu, rousing himself as the others plunged off. “What about my inheritance? What about my books?” Gray Ugu almost fell over, so suddenly did he stop. “The books! I forgot about the books. I suppose we should destroy them immediately. Shouldn’t we?” The two children flung each other a look that said, “Get these Ugus out of here!” There was only one thing to do, which they did with one accord. “The books will wait!” they yelled. “Come on!” And collaring the Ugus, they made a dash for the scene of the riot. A riot is precisely what it was. Crowds of people were surging back and forth over the main street. Some held rakes or spades in their hands, while others were waving their arms or shouting vainly into the din. From time to time folks found themselves veering toward the gate, but as often as this happened they pulled up short and fell back again, leaving a sizable clear space where the street met its end. The reason for this was obvious: not just one but one dozen giants stood clustered before the gate! The giants were wearing ordinary Winkie attire and would surely have been taken for ordinary Winkie citizens were it not for their monstrous height. As it was, most looked tall enough to peer right over the city wall if they stood on tiptoe, and several were doing just that. In fact, they appeared to be shaking their fists at someone or something on the other side. Other giants kept a wary eye on the winged horse, which flew round and round overhead with its rider. Any of the giants could have crushed it easily as it went by, and one or two looked angry enough to consider it. But none made the attempt. At intervals they bent forward as if they were conversing with it. Now the oddly purplish steed swooped down toward the crowd. A great cry went up, and so, quite suddenly, did two more giants. In less than an instant they shot up from the ground and stood staring at each other like startled giraffes. The younger one soon recovered himself and lumbered off to join his fellows by the wall. The other burst noisily into tears. By now, Ojo and Onna Val had dragged their protesting Ugus into the crowd. Yellow Ugu reached out and seized the arm of a familiar figure. “Kodgen!” he shouted. “What’s going on here?” “Why, you should know, Mr. Shoemaker!” shouted Kodgen. “It’s those giants you warned us about. Two of them, a man and a woman, right outside the gate. They’re attacking the City!” Gray Ugu seized Kodgen’s other arm. “Outside the gate?” he yelled. “Have you seen them?” “Oh yes!” Kodgen yelled back, too excited to notice that he was addressing two Ugus at once. “We opened the gate just a crack. At first there was nothing for miles around. Then we felt the earth shaking under our feet, and a moment later we saw two giants heading straight toward us. Purple giants from the Gillikin Country! I’ve never had such a fright in all my life!” “But what about these other giants?” shouted Yellow Ugu. “Where did they come from?” “Don’t you recognize them?” Kodgen pointed toward the nearest giant, who was trying vainly not to be noticed. “That one there is your neighbor Gurn. And over there is the gloveseller Chub. Every one of them is someone we all know.” “How did they get so big?” “It’s the Sorcerer!” shouted Kodgen. “The boy on the winged horse. He’s turning our people into giants so we can fight the giants outside.” “No, it’s not him!” broke in a townswoman. “It’s his horse that’s magic. It strikes the ground with its hoof, and whoosh! Up goes a giant, tall as a tree. I wish it would change me. I’d show those foreign giants what we Herkus are made of!” As if to prove her words, the winged horse rocketed down not far from them. While its rider sat watching, the purple beast did indeed strike the ground with its hoof, once before a tall man who held his yellow hat in his hands, and once more before a youth with a big hopeful grin. Both shot up like beanstalks. The crowd roared. “Incredible!” shouted Yellow Ugu. “What sort of magic could do such a thing? I must get a closer look!” He lunged forward, and Ojo, still clinging to his hand, was dragged after him. They parted the crowd by main strength, but as they drew nearer, the horse seemed to become aware of them. It shied angrily and its rider turned his head in alarm. Ojo caught a glimpse of a boyish profile. His jaw dropped. Was it really Button-Bright? As loudly as he could, Ojo shouted, “Button-Bright! It’s me, Ojo! Button-Bright!” His voice was lost in the racket that enveloped them, and Button-Bright never looked his way. Desperately, Ojo flung himself toward the horse. It was too late. The great wings spread wide and the horse leaped into the air, soaring above the crowd in a great arc. Ojo shouted after it to no avail. It made a last graceful pass, then disappeared over the wall.
HARD TIMES IN HERKU Ojo felt bereft. The marauding giants had fled, thank goodness, but so had Button-Bright and his winged horse! “Stop fussing about Button-Bright,” Onna Val scolded him. “Flying around like that, having the time of his life. He’s fine. Look around you. This city has a gigantic problem. That’s what we all need to think about right now.” She was right. Herku was awash with giants, all up and down the main street from the gate to the park. Some sat glumly pondering their future while others consulted antsy relatives on such vexed questions as food and shelter. Still others argued with their neighbors. Everyone was glad, naturally, that danger had been averted, and in fact they’d been congratulating themselves for the last hour. Now the City of Herku began to realize that its giants were here to stay. “Couldn’t we take the roof off the parlor?” one nearby giant was asking plaintively. “I wouldn’t mind curling up on the floor.” “What? And make me move all the furniture?” His mother, less than a quarter his height, was clearly outraged. “You’ll be lucky to get the shed, you great overgrown lout!” Another giant did not mean to take things lying down. “We still have rights even though we’re so big!” he told a normal-sized friend. “I refuse to be kicked out of my rooms!” “See what I mean?” said Onna Val. “No one knows what to do.” “Neither do we,” Ojo said gloomily. “And another thing,” Onna Val continued. “What about our two Ugus, right over there, chatting up that pompous king or ruler or whatever he is?” “Czarover,” said Ojo. “Granadge the Czarover.” “Granadge, Czarover, who cares? My point is, Yellow Ugu means mischief. You and I should listen in.” They did, edging in behind the Ugus. What they heard appalled them. “If what you tell me about your ancestors is true,” Granadge beamed with evident relief, “then their old magic books may be just the thing! And your long-lost twin will be our savior!” “Of course he will, Czarover,” Yellow Ugu promised. “Won’t you, brother?” Gray Ugu blanched under his papery skin. “I have done some magic,” he confessed uneasily. “None of it turned out well. And even our ancestors never understood transformations.” “Nonsense!” Czarover Granadge dismissed him. He was distracted by a purple moth that fluttered annoyingly round his head. “This is no time for modesty. My assistant Vig, here, will go with you and help carry the precious books.” “At your service,” said Vig, bowing. “But this is impossible!” Gray Ugu groped for some means of escape. “The books aren’t complete. What’s worse, they’re – they’re – “ “They’re under a curse!” interrupted Ojo. “A curse?” The Czarover’s eyes crossed, for the purple moth had just settled on his nose. He shooed the moth away and continued. “What do you mean, a curse? This is an emergency! Curses can be dealt with later.” “Perhaps we should find out more about this curse,” Vig suggested sensibly, watching while the purple moth tickled the back of his master’s neck. “Afterward, afterward. Before that you must bring the books. And do something about this purple insect, will you? It won’t leave me alone!” Indeed, the moth seemed unaccountably drawn to the Czarover. Vig waved his arms to no avail. It would not be put off. The last straw came when it alighted on Granadge’s bald head. “Someone get a net!” he exploded. “Bring a fly swatter! What ails this ridiculous bug?” Vig finally removed his jacket and flapped it at the indignant insect. This appeared to have some effect. Ojo, observing the little creature’s descent toward a clear space in the street, wondered if the Czarover’s assistant had hurt it. He had not. No sooner had it landed than it transformed itself, suddenly and massively, into the towering form of a giantess! Granadge yelped. All up and down the street, other giants dropped what they were doing and stared at the new arrival. The nearest giant yelled, “It’s her!” “Who?” someone yelled back. “Our enemy! The one who attacked us!” Mrs. Yoop, for indeed it was she, laughed at this. “You do me wrong,” she said. “I never attacked you. If you hadn’t tried so hard to keep me out, you would have found that my intentions are most generous. I graciously consent to be your ruler.” “Nobody asked you to be our ruler!” shouted Granadge, his face mottled with rage. “No, but you will when you hear my terms,” she replied. “They’re quite simple, really. Do as I ask or I will transform you into a purple butterfly.” Granadge turned pale, but the nearest giant snapped his huge fingers scornfully. “You can’t transform us,” he boasted. “You tried it before, when you were outside the City, and it didn’t work. We have nothing to fear.” “Is that true?” Granadge demanded. “Is she unable to carry out her threat?” The giant nodded. Granadge heaved a sigh of relief. “Then get up, you giants!” he cried. “It’s time to defend your Czarover. Seize that woman!” This did not strike all the giants as a good idea. Several pretended they hadn’t heard, though enough did get up to create a fairly imposing spectacle. Mrs. Yoop only chuckled. “It’s true you giants appear to be safe from my magic,” she admitted freely. “But no one else is. And your king, who has made himself so unpleasant, will help me prove it.” “I’ll do nothing of the sort!” protested Granadge. “You will,” said the giantess, “whether you like it or not.” She pointed her finger at the unfortunate man. In one second he was transformed from a powerful Winkie to a purple butterfly. No one breathed. Townsfolk and giants alike stood stock still, their eyes fixed on the little creature that had been their leader. Vig, the ex-Czarover’s assistant, could not believe what he had seen. As for the butterfly, it soon rose from the pavement and flew upward in a jagged spiral. Up and up it flew, silent as any ordinary butterfly, until the breeze carried it right over the wall and out of Herku. The Czarover, incredibly, had gone for good. Mrs. Yoop smiled gaily. “So you see,” she told the stunned assemblage, “I can do what I say. You giants, of course, may challenge me if you wish. But if you do, your families will pay the price. Do you really want your wives and mothers to become butterflies? Or your brothers and sisters, or your sons and daughters? If so, tell me now and we’ll have a thrilling battle here in the street.” She skewered the nearest giant with her gaze. Pointedly, he placed himself in front of a woman who stood by his knee. “Is there not one rebel here?” Mrs. Yoop inquired. “Not one hero ready to fight the monster and save his people? Or have you realized that I am not a monster at all, but rather a kind and gentle mistress who will make your city the happy and prosperous place it was meant to be?” Again, silence. Again, Mrs. Yoop smiled. “Very well, then. You do wish me to become your ruler and I naturally accept the offer. Now let’s think about a royal residence where my husband and I can live in luxury and splendor. This very spot may be a good one.” She began to examine the city wall, with its gate less than half her size. As soon as her back was turned, the citizens dared to look at each other for the first time since this disaster had struck. On every face the same question was seen: had they been conquered so easily? Were their simple lives over? The answer seemed all too clear. With frightened eyes they watched the giantess mapping out her dream house. Yellow Ugu drew his twin back away from the gate, followed by Ojo and Onna Val. Close behind them came the newly masterless Vig. “Now will you get those magic books?” Yellow Ugu hissed when they reached the next corner. “Useless giants may not rouse your concern, but even you surely see that this monster woman must be stopped. If the books can help us to do that, then it’s your duty to find them!” “Never!” Gray Ugu tearfully, stubbornly gritted his teeth. “You want those books too much. “With sincere regret I must announce that I do not trust you!” “Well said, Ugu!” Onna Val congratulated him. “At last you’ve seen the truth.” This enthusiasm did not seem to please the poor fellow. He peered at Onna Val with a hunted, almost a guilty look in his misty eyes. “Don’t, please,” he murmured. “You’ve been so kind. And it is you, of all people, whom I must beg for forgiveness. You, of all people, will probably hate me for what I couldn’t bring myself to tell you till now. But great need is upon us and I believe I must now confess.” Confess? Ojo and Onna Val looked at each other. Had their befuddled Ugu finally lost his mind? The old man was opening his jacket and reaching into an inside pocket, from which he produced a brown object roughly the size of a raisin. He gazed wretchedly on this object. The others waited. “My friends,” he said. “I do not deserve your sympathy. I am nothing but a thief. But what I have so shamefully stolen may be of use to us. It is this, the Magic Loaf of Queen Lurline.” It took a moment for the two children to absorb this revelation. Ugu explained, “As soon as I saw it I longed for it deep in my heart. When no one was looking I even touched it, wishing it were small enough to conceal in my pocket. Imagine my amazement when it shrank to this tiny size! Fate seemed to have meant it for me! Without another thought I tucked it into my jacket, and there it has been all afternoon. Now you know.” What ensued was an interval of much anger, much blame and much wrangling. Onna Val, after she got over her initial rage, demanded the Magic Loaf for herself as Queen Lurline’s representative. Yellow Ugu, after he understood how powerful the thing might be, claimed that he alone possessed the strength and will to master it. Vig, after he’d heard these arguments repeated three times over, proposed a fair division among all five of them. Only Ojo held his peace. Because of this, it was to him that Gray Ugu finally appealed for a decision. Ojo recoiled. “Me? You want me to decide? But I’m nobody! I’m just a boy. Power like that has nothing to do with me!” Yellow Ugu agreed, adding that wiser heads must prevail. “Yours, for instance?” retorted Vig. “I think not. No, your twin has a good point. Ojo is sensible enough to reject this powerful magic for himself. Let’s hear what he would like to see done with it.” “Ojo wants me to take it!” Onna Val asserted. “Don’t you, Ojo?” Ojo squirmed. Gray Ugu placed his trembling hands on the boy’s shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “Don’t listen to them!” the old man implored. “Think your own thoughts. You are loyal and honest, loving and brave. You can help me if you care to. I’m counting on you.” Ojo’s heart sank. He saw plainly that of the four faces now locked on his, none was wise enough to carry this burden. Yet he himself was surely no wiser. What could he say? “I hear voices raised in argument,” boomed the unmistakable tones of the giantess. In their excitement they had all but forgotten her. Now she surveyed the throng menacingly. “I might have thought,” she went on, “that my plans for a new home were more important than any small grievances among my small subjects. But perhaps I have been selfish. Perhaps a good ruler should expect to hear grievances patiently and judge them justly. Approach me, then. Lay your petty palavering at my feet and hear how I will answer you.” No one spoke. Mrs. Yoop smiled. “Is the matter cleared up? How very clever you dear people are becoming! My rule has had a beneficial effect already. Now, where were we? I believe I had decided that the throne room would extend straight out from the gate, with the entryway exactly here.” As she continued, turning her back on the terrified crowd, Ojo took a deep breath and whispered, “My opinion may not be worth much, but here it is. Onna Val is partly right. The Magic Loaf belongs to her people, and especially to Queen Lurline. But Onna Val, you can’t take the Loaf and go flying around Oz with it. That’s just crazy. Wouldn’t it be better for you to find the Queen and bring her here? If anyone can handle this problem, it’s Queen Lurline. Meantime, Gray Ugu can keep the Loaf safe, just as he’s done all afternoon. And we can find someplace to hide.” “My house is at your disposal,” Vig offered promptly. “It isn’t much, but you’re certainly welcome.” He smiled and patted Ojo’s shoulder. “Well done, boy.” “Yes, well done,” Gray Ugu agreed. “I knew you could see your way through this mess. Thank you, Ojo.” “Thanks indeed!” Yellow Ugu gave a contemptuous snort. “Thanks for giving this giantess time to transform our city and our people beyond all recognition! I don’t know how the rest of you can take this lad seriously. You, fairy girl, surely you see my point!” Onna Val opened her mouth, then shut it again. Though the plan did not sit well with her, she could not bring herself to side with the despised Yellow Ugu. She scuffed her toe along the ground and glared fiercely at it. “Oh, all right!” she gave in at last. “Show me where Vig’s house is so I’ll know where to find you. Then I’ll take my cloud and go hunting.” She gave Ojo a gentle cuff. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
MRS. YOOP’S BREAKFAST
Yellow Ugu had a plan. After a sleepless night spent on Vig’s sofa, he got up at dawn and foraged for scraps in the larder. Then he crept out into the silent street, empty as yet of Herku citizenry. Ugu disliked crowds. He had always tended to shut himself away in his shop, seeing one or two customers at a time and befriending none. He disliked his customers, in fact, though it was they who made his meager living possible. The notion that his shoemaking days might be over cheered him wonderfully. Early as it was, he decided to wait a bit before making his move. So he wandered the City, watching the sunlight spread inch by inch down the tops of the tallest buildings, until he reached the broad avenue where the city gate had been. He was startled to find giants sleeping here, there, wherever they could find a spot. As his business did not concern them, he had forgotten their existence entirely. Now it annoyed him to see the way they lay about in tumbled heaps, open-mouthed and snoring thunderously under the brightening sky. If only he had the Magic Loaf, he thought, he would find a way to get rid of them for good. At the end of the avenue loomed Mrs. Yoop’s grand new throne room. Yookoohoo magic had raised it from mere stones; now it stood tall as a cliff, with huge apartments on either side. For a moment there was no noise save the rumble of snoring giants. Then, with a clatter of footsteps, an exceptionally hairy giant appeared in the throne room door. “You there!” he shouted so loudly that the pavement shook under Ugu’s feet. “You giants! Stop that snoring! My wife is at breakfast and she doesn’t like to be annoyed.” The giants stirred and shifted their great limbs. One looked up at the red-faced Mr. Yoop. “What would you have us do?” he inquired mildly. “We have no place to go and nothing to keep us busy.” “Just wake up and lie still,” Mr. Yoop instructed them. “My wife will attend to you later.” With that, he disappeared into the throne room, leaving the door ajar behind him. This was Ugu’s chance. He made his way past the unhappy giants and walked boldly into the throne room, where he expected to find Mrs. Yoop seated in state. Not a soul met his gaze. From an inner door to his left, however, came the sound of knifes and forks scraping across china dishes. Ugu followed these sounds into a vast dining room that would have been handsome if it were not quite so enormous. A big table occupied the center of the room, and at this table, eating their breakfast like any other husband and wife, sat Mr. and Mrs. Yoop. They did not observe their visitor. Mr. Yoop had a ceramic jar in his hands. He peered into it, then held it upside down and shook it. “This pot of orange marmalade is empty,” he said accusingly, as if he suspected his wife of starving him. “That should have been enough marmalade to last you a week,” said Mrs. Yoop. Scones were her chosen fare, and she held one daintily between her thumb and forefinger. “Look how big this jar is,” she went on. “I can’t believe you finished it in just ten minutes. If you’d taken a moment to spread it on toast rather than pouring it down your gullet, you’d still have some right now.” “I’m hungry,” growled Mr. Yoop, and he banged the jar on the table. Ugu jumped. “Oh, very well.” Mrs. Yoop took a handful of yellow grass from a dish and dropped it into the jar. As soon as she pointed at it, her husband lost no time in seizing the jar and raising it to his lips. Mighty gulps could be heard across the room. Yellow Ugu uttered a discreet cough. “Oho!” Mrs. Yoop discovered the Shoemaker immediately. “I hope there’s a good reason for this intrusion. I do not enjoy having my meals disturbed.” Mr. Yoop lowered the jar with a wounded look. He had not heard Ugu’s cough and he thought this speech had been addressed to him. “You were the one who asked me in,” he said. “And that was after I spent a whole night outside, where I was cold and damp.” Then he noticed Ugu, who had marched bravely into the room. This so surprised Mr. Yoop that he almost dropped his precious jar. “Your Majesty,” said Ugu, bowing as low as his old limbs would let him. “I bring you greetings, together with news of a possible threat to your power.” “Indeed.” Mrs. Yoop wiped her mouth with a napkin the size of a small tablecloth. “That seems unlikely. Describe this threat.” Ugu obliged her with a full account of the Magic Loaf and its lovely maker, the Fairy Queen. “My brother and his friends want this Lurline to force you out,” he warned. “They’ve already sent a messenger to fetch her here. She and her court may enter the City at any time, and if that happens they will surely move against you.” “Fairy power? Pah!” Mrs. Yoop snapped her fingers derisively. “According to my sources, fairies can only perform kind and helpful magic. Overthrowing rulers is something they do not do well. I’m sure Yookoohoo magic will triumph over your fairies. Now, if my mother were to come calling again, that would be another matter. She caused me a great deal of inconvenience yesterday.” “But Your Majesty,” argued the Shoemaker. “The fairy in question is not just any fairy. She is Queen of all the fairies, and she may have powers that you and I cannot guess at. It was she who transformed this entire country into a fairyland.” At this, Mrs. Yoop sat up. “Was it? Your Fairy Queen performed that transformation?” Ugu nodded. “That interests you.” “It does,” the giantess said thoughtfully. “For if what you tell me is true, then she is responsible for what happened to my husband and me. Until yesterday morning we were no larger than anyone else; then, without a moment’s notice, the world turned purple and we grew to our present size. That was a transformation worthy of a Yookoohoo.” “Very true,” said the Shoemaker, who had never seen a Yookoohoo before yesterday. “Very true,” repeated Mrs. Yoop. “I always believed that transformations were difficult for any fairy. Yet this Fairy Queen has transformed a Yookoohoo from many miles away! Only a serious enemy could do that.” “Quite right,” agreed Ugu. “But remember the Magic Loaf! It contains the same fairy power that achieved that transformation. If you can capture the Magic Loaf, you will possess that power and your own as well. The Queen will be unable to challenge you.” “Does the Magic Loaf come with Magic Marmalade?” asked Mr. Yoop. He was scraping the bottom of his jar again, and he doubted that more would be provided. His wife paid no attention. She rose from her table and leaned over the anxious Ugu. “Where is the Magic Loaf?” she demanded. Ugu took a deep breath. Now, most of all, he felt he was taking his life in his hands. “What will you give me if I tell you?” he asked coolly. “Ha!” Mrs. Yoop smiled. “I knew we would come to this. Men who betray their brothers do not work for nothing. What do you require?” “Four things,” replied Ugu. “First, a grand house of my own.” “Done,” said Mrs. Yoop. “Second?” “An independent living that will free me from the life of a shoemaker.” “Very well. And the third thing?” “Immunity from your transformations, now and throughout my life.” Mrs. Yoop looked at him. “That depends on you,” she said at last. “So long as you don’t interfere with me, you’re safe. Will that suffice?” “It will,” said Ugu. “The fourth thing is a matter of little consequence. In my old house, certain valuable books have been hidden. Only my brother knows where to find them. You must force him to show me their hiding place.” “What books are they?” Mrs. Yoop asked curiously. “A family history,” shrugged Ugu. “Since my shoemaking days are over, I’d like to entertain myself with some study.” The giantess laughed. “Good enough,” she said. “I promise to give you what you ask. Now, tell me where to find the Magic Loaf.” “My brother has it,” said Ugu. “He keeps it in his jacket and says he’ll present it to no one but the Fairy Queen who made it.” “Where is he now?” “In the house of Vig, the ex-Czarover’s assistant. No doubt he’ll be there for some time.” “Come with me.” Mrs. Yoop strode out of the dining room and planted herself at the outer door of the throne room. Ugu scuttled after her. “Attention!” she boomed. At her call, giants scrambled to their feet. “Two of you must go with this small man and fetch the gentleman he requires. Then bring them both back to me. Do you understand?” They did. Two recruits were selected, though they did not seem noticeably enthused, and they shuffled off behind their humble guide. Mrs. Yoop watched from the doorway. “No tricks now,” she warned Ugu. “If you betray me, I will know of it.” Ugu did not answer. He was far too pleased with himself.
OJO ACTS
Vig and his houseguests had just finished their own breakfast when they heard a knock at the door. It was Yellow Ugu. “Well, well!” Vig greeted him suspiciously. “Been out for a walk, have you? Come in and have something to eat.” “Not just now.” Yellow Ugu looked like someone trying not to laugh. The expression did not fit his face. “I’m afraid I have bad news. It appears that someone has been telling tales of our visitors from the future. Now the giantess wants to meet my twin.” The others crowded around. “How did she find out about us?” Ojo wanted to know. “Oh, lots of people were talking about it,” Yellow Ugu replied. “We were overheard on the street yesterday, and you know how that sort of news gets around. Apparently the giantess is interested in time travel. She just wants to talk.” “The way she talked with the Czarover yesterday?” Vig asked grimly. “Very comforting. And how did you get involved?” “Why, folks remembered seeing me with you fellows, so naturally I was taken to the giantess. Now here I am, an innocent errand-boy carrying out my orders. Just to make sure we don’t keep her waiting, she sent an escort with me. You can see them right outside.” Everyone peered through the door. Standing in the courtyard were two Herku giants, trying to look impressive. “Don’t worry, though,” Yellow Ugu continued. “You needn’t all go. My twin here is the one she wants. Vig and Ojo can stay behind in safety and comfort.” Ojo, however, would have none of this. Where his friend went, he insisted, he would go too. “Besides,” he said. I’m from the future as well. She can just take us together.” Yellow Ugu tried without success to dissuade the boy. At last, exasperated, he agreed to the plan. “But that’s where we draw the line! Vig, you must stay here or we’ll all be turned into purple butterflies. Be patient. You’ll see us again before you know it.” Vig wished they had all escaped with Onna Val on her fairy cloud. He gave in, however, and the others set out between their two reluctant escorts. The spectacle of the huge new throne room did not bolster their confidence. Mrs. Yoop’s power must be even greater than they had thought! The mighty door stood open, and through it they could see the giantess herself, seated now on her throne and waiting impatiently. Alongside stood a male giant whom none of them (save Yellow Ugu) had seen before. Apprehensively, the companions stepped inside. Mrs. Yoop greeted Yellow Ugu with a narrow look. “I see your brother,” she said. “But I also see a boy. What does this mean?” “Allow me to explain, Your Majesty,” Ojo spoke up. “I’m from the future too, and whatever you want to know I’ll gladly tell you.” “The future?” She smiled at Yellow Ugu. “I’m puzzled. What have you been telling these innocents?” Yellow Ugu explained his ruse. The giantess laughed. “How clever!” she said. “You continue to amuse me. Come closer, all of you.” They came closer. Ojo did not like the huge woman’s expression. “Young man,” she said. “It pains me to reveal that you’ve been tricked. I have no interest in your future. I already know the future.” “You do?” faltered Gray Ugu. “Of course. Not just my own future, but yours as well. Shall I tell you about it?” They could only nod. “Very well. It’s brief in the telling. You may as well know I’m going to rule this country. All of you will be my subjects. As for the future you claim to know, it’s been cancelled and is therefore of no interest. I brought you here for one reason and one reason only. You have something I want. Give me the Magic Loaf!” Gray Ugu gasped and clutched his chest. Ojo threw an arm around his skinny shoulders. “You’re surprised that I know of it,” smiled Mrs. Yoop. “But it must be obvious who told me. And really, why should it seem strange? Your brother is so much wiser than you are; he’s already sided with the stronger party. We made a bargain this morning, one which I mean to see fulfilled. So it’s useless to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about. Give me the Magic Loaf!” “I can’t!” Ugu managed to gasp. Mrs. Yoop chuckled. “What did you say?” she inquired, rising from her throne. “I said I can’t,” repeated the panic-stricken Ugu, a bit louder this time. “I didn’t bring it with me. See?” He opened his jacket. Mrs. Yoop’s face hardened and she stepped forward dangerously. “You must have it!” she cried. “Give it to me before I turn you into something so miserable you’ll wish you were dead!” “He does have it!” burst out Yellow Ugu. “It’s small, as small as a raisin. He has it in his jacket pocket.” Mrs. Yoop took another step forward. “I thought as much. Your own face gives you away.” She laughed a booming laugh that echoed amid the walls of that great room. “Now, for the last time: will you give me the Magic Loaf or must I carry out my threat?” Ugu trembled, but he would not budge. “I will never give it to you!” he declared. Mrs. Yoop stamped her foot. The floor shook. “Then pay the price!” she shouted, raising her right hand. “Stop!” pleaded Ojo as she pointed at his friend. But it was too late. Beside him, Ugu fell to earth in the shape of a gray dog. Something else fell too, something roughly the size of a raisin, which rolled away from the whining dog and bounced off Ojo’s shoe. It was the Magic Loaf. Like a bird of prey, Mrs. Yoop’s huge hand rushed down toward it. Ojo had no time to think, but clutched the tiny object in his fist. He could feel the crusted breadiness of it and a kitcheny smell warmed his nostrils. Over a distant sound of barking someone’s voice shouted, “Give me that Loaf, wretched boy! Give it to me or I’ll crush you!” A viselike grip closed round his chest. The floor plunged away, the walls wheeled crazily over his head. His hand swung wide and almost dropped the Magic Loaf into the arms of Yellow Ugu, dancing madly underneath him while the gray dog barked frantically. From a glimpse of white apron racing by, he realized that the giantess had hoisted him right off the ground. Quite possibly he would be dead in a moment, or transformed into something unspeakable. In any case, the Magic Loaf would soon be hers. He had to act. Before her very eyes, desperate beyond imagining, he popped the Magic Loaf into his mouth! He meant only to hold it under his tongue. And indeed there was no question of swallowing it, for he suddenly felt himself turned upside-down and shaken like a kitten. The Magic Loaf rattled against his front teeth. “Drop it!” shrieked Mrs. Yoop. “Drop it or the City of Herku will go up in flames!” Ojo did not drop it. His jaws clamped shut though every bone in his small frame felt jarred to bits. From the pocket of his breeches, however, something small did tumble to the floor. It was an old forgotten pencil stub. To Mrs. Yoop it looked like the tiny Loaf, and stooping down, she opened her hands to scramble for it. Ojo struck the floor with a gulp. He clapped his fingers to his mouth. The Magic Loaf. He had swallowed it! This was a calamity! The last thing in the world he wanted inside his stomach was an object of astonishing power. He was a simple Munchkin boy who knew nothing of magic and sorcery. How could such a disaster have overtaken him? He heard an ear-splitting shriek overhead. Mrs. Yoop was tearing the tiny pencil stub from her own mouth and casting it aside while her husband ducked behind the throne. “You thought you could fool me, boy!” shouted the giantess. “It was a fine joke, wasn’t it, tossing that thing at my feet. Pencils make you laugh? All right, then. Be a pencil yourself!” The long white finger took aim at Ojo. He froze with his arms over his head, dreading the change that would surely come. Instead, a strange thing happened. Yookoohoo magic burned about him like cold fire. He knew it; he felt it. And yet, amazingly, it did not change him. Mrs. Yoop had done her worst, but the transformation had not worked. Then something snapped and the peril was over. What could this mean? Time had stood still for a moment. Now it barreled on with a thump and a howl. Mrs. Yoop tripped over the gray dog Ugu and sat down hard on the marble floor. Her face wore a look of mingled pain and puzzlement. Then her eyes fixed on something behind Ojo. Ojo lifted his head. At the throne room door stood a solitary figure. To the boy it looked like a small black cut-out framed in a rectangle of dazzling sunshine. Only the silhouette could be seen. Mrs. Yoop squinted into the light. A familiar voice was heard. “That’s Ojo!” it exclaimed. “There on the floor. I think he’s hurt.” Footsteps echoed across that vast room and a boy ran out of the glare. It was Button-Bright! The astonished Ojo saw him clearly now. So did Mrs. Yoop. “A sacrifice!” she shouted. “Child, say goodbye to your pretty face!” Button-Bright paid her no heed. He knelt down by Ojo just as the finger took aim. Appalled, Ojo lunged between him and the Yookoohoo magic. Take me, his mind was screaming. Don’t take Button-Bright, take me! Again, time stood still. Again, Mrs. Yoop’s malice burned about them. And again, no one was transformed. Time rushed back again. “Hello,” said Button-Bright. “I thought you were hurt.” “No,” said Ojo. “How did you turn up?” “Grandma Natch and I met your friend Onna Val this morning. She was curled up on her cloud, fast asleep. We woke her up, though, and she told us to fly here as fast as we could. Look! There’s Grandma Natch at the door!” “And Queen Lurline!” breathed Ojo. Indeed, these two formidable ladies had entered the throne room together. They stood now, side by side, confronting the wrathful Mrs. Yoop. “Moyna,” Grandma Natch said calmly. “Nice place you’ve got here. A little gaudy, perhaps, but very nice and spacious.” “How dare you!” Mrs. Yoop snarled. “How dare you interfere with my plans? How dare you enter my home unannounced?” “Your home?” said Grandma Natch. “That’s debatable, oh yes, it is. There are some giants outside who feel you don’t belong here. I think they’re right, don’t you, Miss Lurline?” “I could not agree more,” Queen Lurline said icily. “We will see you out, Mrs. Yoop, and your husband too.” Mr. Yoop peeked out from behind the throne. “Let’s do what they say, Wife,” he pleaded. “I wanted to go yesterday when it was just giants. Now it’s magic! I don’t like it here.” His wife glared at him, then back at her mother. “I will have this city!” she insisted. “You can’t stay forever. And when I’ve had my way, Herku will be the envy of the world!” “Not likely,” said Grandma Natch. “We’re small potatoes now, we Yookoohoos. This is a fairy country and there’s fairy magic sprouting up in all four corners of the land. I advise you to go back to the Forest, where you can have things your own way. Leave the rest of the world in peace.” Yellow Ugu, who had been listening from the shadows, chose this moment to interrupt. He had guessed the identity of Queen Lurline and he saw his chance to cause trouble. “Not so fast!” he warned. “Fairy Queen, have you forgotten the Magic Loaf? A powerful woman such as you must know it’s here. Surely you’re curious as to its whereabouts?” Ojo winced. Lurline regarded Yellow Ugu. “Tell me more,” she said. “I will. My friend Mrs. Yoop tried to rescue the Magic Loaf, but this thieving boy had other ideas. He devoured it!” “Clearly,” said Lurline. “And why do you suppose he did that?” “Because he wanted the fairy magic himself!” cried Ugu. “He’s done nothing but make mischief since he got here. I’ve never seen such a troublesome child.” Now the gray dog joined in. “Liar!” he yelped. “Ojo and I were keeping the Magic Loaf safe!” “And how did you get it in the first place?” sneered Yellow Ugu. “By theft! You’ve been hatching this plot from the very start. Your Majesty, these are your villains. If anyone is to be punished, it should be they!” The gray dog gave a mournful howl. “I did steal the Magic Loaf and I’ve regretted it ever since,” he admitted. “Now, protecting it from this wicked giantess, my poor friend Ojo has been forced to swallow it. How it will work in him I don’t know. But whatever happens, the fault is mine and so is the punishment. I never should have brought Ojo to this place. I should have remained a gray dove till the end of my days!” “You’ll certainly remain a gray dog till the end of your days,” said Grandma Natch. “Am I right in thinking my daughter transformed you?” The dog nodded sadly. “Then you’ve been punished enough. My daughter’s transformations are permanent, I’m afraid. No one in the world can help you. No, they certainly cannot.” “Mrs. Yoop,” said Lurline. “Let that wicked act be your last. Your reign here has been brief and eventful. It has come to an end. I command you to take your husband and go.” “After all,” said Grandma Natch. “You never did like other people. Ruling a city like this would bore you to no end. You’re better off on your own.” “Don’t listen to them!” wailed Yellow Ugu, wringing his hands. “We had a bargain. You promised to give me a house! You promised to get me my ancestors’ books!” Mrs. Yoop scoffed. “Ridiculous! Who are you to demand that I keep such a thing as a promise? If I’d gotten the Magic Loaf I would have crushed you like a flea. You’d better make peace with your enemies, little man. I’m done.” “You mean you’re leaving?” Yellow Ugu was beside himself. “I am. I don’t give a fig for fairies, but my meddling mother has prevented the people of Herku from welcoming the greatest ruler they could ever desire. And she’s right about one thing: I really don’t like people after all. I certainly don’t like anyone I see here. As for the two dozen miserable giants outside, no to mention their relatives, I’ll be glad to let someone else deal with them. How my sister talked me into this scheme I’ll never know. Husband! We’re leaving!” Ojo couldn’t believe it. Only minutes ago he had seen the giantess angry enough to destroy the entire City. Now she marched behind her throne, collecting a grateful Mr. Yoop as she went, and said to an apparently blank wall, “Open!” The wall obeyed her. Mrs. Yoop gazed out at a view of the yellow plains, her outline motionless in the bright sunlight. Then she turned around for the last time. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I go in peace,” she advised them. “I regard every one of you as a bitter enemy, and when I get the chance I’ll revenge myself on you, your friends, and anyone else who reminds me of this day. Be very sure, you’ll hear from me again!” With that, she dragged her husband outside, closed the door behind her, and was gone. “That’s done.” Grandma Natch faced the Fairy Queen. “And now, Miss, with all due respect, I’d like to have a word with you.”
THE QUEEN AND THE YOOKOOHOO
As it turned out, Gray Ugu loved being a dog. Outside in the street he would dash here and there, sniff at this, dig at that, then race back to Ojo for petting. “It’s incredible how full of smells the world is!” he barked happily. “You people don’t know what you’re missing!” He was off again in pursuit of a passing buggy. Onna Val shook her head. “I wouldn’t have recognized him,” she chucked. “Where will he live now, do you think? Not with his former self!” “Never!” shuddered Ojo. “Anyway, his former self sneaked off when the giantess escaped. I don’t think we’ll see him again. No, Gray Ugu will live with Button-Bright and me in the Emerald City. Won’t you, boy?” For the excitable creature was back again and licking Ojo’s face. “Yes, yes, yes!” he barked, madly wagging his gray tail. “That is, if Princess Ozma will let me.” Button-Bright assured him that this would not be a problem. “She might even give us new rooms off the garden. Then you could run in and out as much as you like.” “Well, that takes care of everyone except me,” complained Onna Val. “I don’t want to fly around on Cloudcourt anymore. I want to live in the Emerald City and have adventures with my friends.” Vig joined them in time to overhear this statement. “Perhaps you can visit,” he suggested. “You fairy people come and go so quickly. Right now, though, you’re all wanted at my house. Our two great ladies have called a council.” “Why?” Ojo asked nervously. He didn’t want to discuss the Magic Loaf yet, but the thought of it lurking in his stomach was a constant anxiety. Would Queen Lurline be angry with him? “It concerns the future,” said Vig. “That’s all I know. Shall we go?” In Vig’s small drawing room a circle of chairs had been set up. Queen Lurline and Grandma Natch had seated themselves already. Vig and the children, who took other seats, could feel the tension crackling between these two powerful women. “We were just discussing the Herku giants,” said Lurline. “Grandma Natch has agreed to help them a little.” “She has?” Button-Bright stared. “Grandma Natch, I thought you didn’t care.” The old woman rolled her eyes and tugged at her purple scarf. “Well, I suppose it’s my fault that they’re stuck this way. I had to make the transformation permanent or dear Moyna would have changed them into something unpleasant. Oh yes, indeed she would. So maybe I do bear some responsibility here: a roof over their heads, a bed to sleep in. Simple things. After that they’re on their own.” “The smaller citizens may need help, too, feeling safe with their giant neighbors,” Lurline added. “Therefore I myself will create a formula to make them stronger and better able to hold their own. You, Vig, could administer it as needed. Then we can all leave Herku with a clear conscience.” Ojo nudged Onna Val. “Zosozo!” he whispered. “Remember?” “But see here, Miss!” Grandma Natch said with the air of one who has restrained herself beyond natural limits. “All that’s just window-dressing, isn’t it? I did what I did, Moyna did what she did, but no one would have done anything if you and your fairies hadn’t enchanted our country! We had a perfectly fine country before you appeared. Yes, we did! Everyone knew what they were and where they were, and no one had an unkind word to say about it. At least, they didn’t out my way. “Then you come along and suddenly there’s all kinds of trouble! Folks who didn’t need our help yesterday are needing it today. Why? Because you like making fairy countries!” Grandma Natch pounded her own knee with her fist. “Now, I may be a backwoods sorceress, like those Yoops always say. But I don’t make a habit of casting spells on people who don’t want them. No, I certainly do not. And I don’t think you should either!” Queen Lurline had sat silent throughout this speech, her lovely brow furrowed in thought. It was Onna Val who took a stand. “That’s not fair!” she told Grandma Natch. “Fairy magic is a precious gift. Why, if the rest of the world knew about our Magic Eggs, everybody would want one. You should be grateful that we chose this country over all those others.” “Onna Val, hush!” Lurline chided her gently. “Grandma Natch has lived here for a long time. She possesses wisdom that you and I cannot equal. And perhaps she’s right. Perhaps, by trying to right old wrongs, I’ve brought more harm to the world than good. Certainly I’ve brought harm to Herku.” “More than just harm,” sniffed Grandma Natch. “You’ve thrown a whole way of life out the window.” Button-Bright shook his head emphatically. “That’s nonsense!” he said. “Grandma Natch, I love you but I have to tell the truth. You make it sound as if Oz is a real mess. Well, it may have its problems now, but in the future it’ll be the best place ever! It’ll have a first-class ruler and there won’t be a soul who’s hungry or unhappy. Isn’t that right, Ojo? Won’t it all come right in the end?” “It will,” said Ojo. “There’s a golden age still to come, Grandma Natch, and without that Magic Egg it would never get here.” Grandma Natch gave a snort. “Pardon me for not knowing the future!” she grumped. “These boys know more than either one of us, Grandma Natch,” smiled Lurline. “This is why I summoned them, to tell us what lies ahead. But your land has suffered, clearly, and I’d like to offer my help. Let me tell you what I saw yesterday when I traveled into the Quadling Country. “At a splendid red castle there lives a Sorceress who is, in my judgment, both beautiful and brilliant. So great is her wisdom that I am planning to give her a new Book of Records, exactly like my own precious book. Her name is Glinda and I hope that our visitors from the future know her already.” “I’m proud to say we do,” acknowledged Button-Bright. “She’s the genuine article, no doubt about it.” “It pleases me to hear you say so,” replied the Queen. “Already she is full of goodness. She took me to a hidden arbor where we saw a remarkable thing. She called it the Forbidden Fountain and she said that its waters bring forgetfulness to all who drink them.” “We know that Fountain,” remarked Ojo. “But it isn’t in the Quadling Country. It’s in the Emerald City.” “Perhaps it will find a home there one day,” answered the Queen. “Just now the Fountain is concealed behind Glinda’s garden wall, secret but possibly useful. We’ve seen that there is too much wickedness here, and too much suffering. Very well, then. Let the people drink the Waters of Oblivion and forget both their wickedness and their suffering. Let them make a new start in this fairyland, with little memory of the lives they led in a world that has vanished forever. Then, perhaps, this country can grow into the great and peaceful place we all envision.” “But how can a whole nation drink from a single fountain?” asked Vig. “Glinda and I considered that,” said Lurline. “We believe that our combined magic is strong enough to send the Waters coursing through every river and stream in the land. For one entire day, no one will drink any water but this, and forgetfulness will work its healing power on all who thirst. Then, when that one day has ended, the Waters will shrink back into the Forbidden Fountain and be hidden once more.” Gray Ugu lifted his hairy head from where he lay at Ojo’s feet. “What about the animals who have just learned to speak?” he asked. “Must they forget again so soon?” “No, my friend,” said the Queen. “They will forget only their unhappy lives, not the inborn knowledge that makes them who they are. Yellow Ugu will forget his bitterness, but he will not forget how to make shoes. Moyna Yoop will forget her grievances, but she will not forget her Yookoohoo birthright. And so it will go throughout the land, as the Waters find their way into wells, into creeks, into mill ponds and rain barrels. Even we fairies will be forgotten everywhere but in Glinda’s Book of Records, for when the magic has done its work, all save two of us will depart forever.” “All save two?” inquired Ojo, though he guessed immediately what Lurline meant. “Yes. Though evil may be banished for now, it will certainly return one day long after we have gone. For this reason I’ve decided to let two of my fairy people make their homes here. I have chosen them already. They are a gentle old man and his infant daughter, a tiny baby who, under his care, will grow secretly to girlhood. In this she will be unique; for no other creature will age so much as a day within the borders of this fairyland. She alone will grow up, albeit by the slowest of degrees, like a tree destined to live for a thousand years in the heart of an ancient forest. “Many things will happen while she grows. Kings will come and go. Cities will be built. Witches will curse and magicians will create. But through the years, our fairy child will come to be more and more a part of her strange, wonderful world. She will grow into it, putting down roots in its rich magical soil. And at last, when she has come of age, she will stop growing and assume her true place. She will become princess of a land she loves as much as I love the Land of An, which is my home.” Lurline seemed almost entranced, so rapt was she in her dream of the future. Now she shook her head a little and smiled at her spellbound listeners. “This brings me to the final part of my plan,” she went on. “It’s a simple thing and long overdue. We fairies are going home.” Onna Val opened her mouth to protest. Lurline held up her hand. “This need not concern our visitors from the future,” she said. “You will surely be going home yourselves. What does concern you is the outlook for a country that is really yours, not mine. Please tell me, all of you, whether you favor the plan you’ve just heard. Dear Grandma Natch, help me to think it through. Is this wise?” Grandma Natch had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she hadn’t been listening at all. “You’ve taken away the world I lived in,” she said levelly. “Now you want to take away my memory of it. Miss, I’ve lived a full life till today. If your immortality hadn’t come, I would expect to die in a few years. An entire lifetime – that’s what you’re inviting me to give up. I’m not arguing. I see clearly enough what your reasons are. But you asked me a question, so I’m telling you what I think. And that’s all I have to say about it.” Button-Bright got up and kissed Grandma Natch’s wrinkled cheek. Then he turned to the Queen. “This may sound odd,” he said. “But your plan is like something I should have read in a history book. Only there’s no history book in Oz where you can find it. That’s why I wished myself here: because no one in the future remembers the past. And now I know why. Ojo, do you see? This is what happened to the past! The Waters of Oblivion washed it all away! Everyone drank and everyone forgot. They even forgot that they forgot! This is such a big discovery it makes me feel dizzy. I’d better sit down.” And he did. Ojo nodded. “It’s a very big discovery. Couldn’t be bigger. If I didn’t come from the future myself I’d probably say it sounds awful, taking people’s memories away. But I do come from the future and I know it’s going to work out in the end. What I’m trying to say, Your Majesty, is that the plan has my vote. That’s all.” “Mine too,” said Button-Bright. “I’m sorry, Grandma Natch.” “Don’t feel sorry for me, young man,” snapped Grandma Natch, rousing herself. “I don’t want your pity. After all, I’m a Yookoohoo. This land may flow with the Waters of Oblivion, but that doesn’t mean I’ll drink. Oh no, indeed it does not. Perhaps I’ll turn myself into a camel and do without.” “Or into a bird,” laughed Button-Bright. “And fly to Ev for a few days.” “Exactly. But one thing is certain. If you come visiting me, Button-Bright, in that far-off future you call home, you’ll find every bit of my memory intact. Do you hear? Every bit!” Grandma Natch regarded Queen Lurline. “I suppose that means you have my vote too, Miss. So go ahead. Do what you must. Old Grandma Natch will be the history book no one thinks to read. “Now, enough talk. I’m off to see about those giants.” She rose and started out. At the door, however, she hesitated and looked straight at Ojo. “You coming?” she asked him. Ojo gave a start. “Me?” “Yes, you. You didn’t think we’d forgotten, eh? We know what you did!” The Magic Loaf! Ojo’s hair stood on end. As for Button-Bright and Onna Val, they were agog. “What? What did Ojo do?” they demanded, leaping out of their chairs. Even the gray dog stood up and bared its teeth, daring them all to come near its beloved master. Ojo hung his head. “It’s the Magic Loaf,” he told them sorrowfully. “That Mrs. Yoop was about to grab it, so I put it in my mouth. You know, Your Majesty – the way your councilors did. Only, I swallowed it by mistake. I guess I’m in more trouble now than when I stole Ozma’s magic clover.” Queen Lurline laughed merrily. “Dear Ojo! I can’t bear to see you downcast. Of course you’re not in trouble. But you do have a problem – what to do with your new magic powers.” “My -- what?” “Your magic powers. The Magic Loaf has made you a boy of extraordinary abilities. Surely you know that. You’ve already proved that you can use it.” “I have?” “She’s right, as usual,” said Grandma Natch. “Slapping down my daughter’s transformations took real magic, believe me. Without that magic you’d be a pencil right now. Oh yes, you would. And what would our Button-Bright be? Something nasty, no doubt.” Ojo could not believe his ears. “But I didn’t do that!” he protested. “You did, Grandma Natch. Didn’t you? Or you, Your Majesty?” Both ladies shook their heads. Ojo was almost in tears. “But I’m no magician! I don’t want magic powers. What will I do with magic powers?” “For starters, you can make yourself useful right here,” Grandma Natch snapped. “Cleaning up Moyna’s mess will be no small task. Indeed it will not! You could make it a great deal easier for me.” “You could, Ojo,” smiled Lurline. “There is much good you can do now, here and in your own time. You may think you don’t know how, and it’s true that we cannot yet judge the limits of your strength. But often, when you need it, that strength will be there for you.” “It’s fairy magic, isn’t it?” Onna Val broke in. “Well then, how about this? We’re the big experts on fairy magic. Ojo can come home with us! You could give him lessons, Your Majesty; and when he’s not having lessons I could show him the Land of An. Wouldn’t that be fine?” “It would be wonderful,” Lurline assented warmly. “Ojo, Onna Val’s wish is my own. You are more than welcome to visit An for as long as you like. We will do all that we can to help you.” Ojo nodded. The kindness of these good friends overwhelmed him. But then, must he leave Oz? For goodness knows how long? He couldn’t think what to say. Button-Bright was watching him worriedly. “What does it feel like?” he said at last. “All that magic inside you. Does it feel different?” Ojo looked up at his best friend, Button-Bright. If he went to the Land of An, would he lose that best friend? Would that best friend miss him? “Well,” he said in a voice that shook a little despite his best efforts. “The truth is, I suppose I feel . . . I feel alone. I feel as if I just woke up all by myself in a strange place. Am I lost again, Button-Bright? Just when I thought I was found, am I lost again?” A smile of radiant relief lit Button-Bright’s face. “You can’t be lost,” he said. “Not if you don’t want to be. And as long as you’re my best friend, you’ll never be lost again.” The End
|
