Ruler of Beasts, Page 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  FIVE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  SIX

  The Lion quickly found that he did not miss the Forest of the Beasts—or being a king—at all. Despite all the servants and palace staff, Ozma was strangely alone in the Emerald Palace. The Lion was the closest thing she had to a friend, and soon Ozma was spending all her free time with him. Ozma loved to stroll through the palace gardens, and never grew tired of pointing out new plantings of flowers or trees. She braided flowers into the Lion’s mane and tail while he napped idly in the soft grass of the palace lawns. Occasionally, if she had a free day, the queen would disguise herself in a shabby old dress and cloak, and she and the Lion would wander through the streets of the Emerald City. The Lion had never spent much time in the city itself, and he grew to love its mysterious back alleyways and odd little shops where Ozma bought exotic herbs and spices, rich fabrics from the farthest corners of Oz, and rare old books in languages the Lion didn’t know. He suspected that the shopkeepers often recognized the queen but respected her attempt at hiding her identity, and always pretended not to know her.

  But Ozma was often busy with royal duties. Not all of the Emerald City had recovered from Jinjur’s brief, catastrophic rule, and Ozma was occupied with overseeing reconstruction of areas that had been destroyed. Ozma always invited him to attend her various meetings and conferences with her, but the Lion was easily bored by the endless talking and planning. As the King of the Beasts, he had never had to do much administration. The Lion waited patiently for a good moment to search for Glinda’s necklace, but someone was always around—if not Ozma, one of the many courtiers who advised her.

  At last, his chance came. Ozma called an important meeting and everyone from her most trusted counselors to the least important state undersecretary shut themselves up in the banquet hall. He was alone and could start the search Glinda had compelled him to perform.

  The occupied parts of the palace seemed like an unlikely place to find it; surely someone would have noticed something as unusual as a ruby necklace. Instead, he began his search in the wine cellars, where huge barrels of wine lay in a thick coat of dust. The Lion idly poked his paw into the cracks between barrels, feeling almost silly. What could Glinda possibly want with some silly old piece of jewelry, anyway, even if he was able to find it? His search dislodged an avalanche of dust and debris, and he sneezed violently.

  “Hello?” called an anxious voice from the stairwell. The Lion looked around for a hiding place, but the gaps between the wine casks were too narrow. The wine steward, a short, fat Munchkin with an enormous beard that obscured most of his face, came down the stairs and stopped short at the sight of the Lion.

  “Your Highness,” he said suspiciously. “What are you doing down here, sir?”

  The Lion had to stifle a laugh when he realized the steward thought he was trying to steal a drink. “Just, er, checking to make sure everything looks all right down here,” he said. “You know how Her Majesty worries.”

  The steward’s eyes narrowed. “It’s my job to make sure the cellars are in order.”

  “And an excellent job you’re doing, too,” the Lion said loftily, sweeping past him and bounding up the stairs. “Keep up the good work.”

  He tried again a few days later after dinner, ducking out of the banquet hall just as dessert was being served. (He didn’t care for ambleberry custard, which had a habit of walking away from the person trying to eat it.) But he’d barely gotten away from the busiest part of the palace before he heard Ozma’s anxious voice behind him. “Lion! Dear Lion, I was hoping you might have tea with me in my chambers.” The loneliness in the queen’s voice was unmistakable.

  “Of course, Your Highness,” he said. He wasn’t sorry to turn away from his task. It had seemed so important, so burning, when Glinda had left him. But as the days passed in the palace her request seemed less and less important. It was as if the palace itself—or perhaps the continual hum of Ozma’s magic—was insulating him from Glinda’s will.

  After his second attempt, he more or less gave up searching for Glinda’s necklace. He must have imagined the threat in her tone when she’d visited him in the Kingdom of the Beasts. As the days turned into weeks, the Lion happily ate his way through the palace stores and spent time with Ozma whenever he could. He forgot the joys of running through the forest with the wind in his fur and the satisfaction of hunting his own prey. He grew lazier and lazier, soon reluctant even to accompany Ozma on her walks. He could have stayed at Ozma’s side in the Emerald Palace indefinitely—and he would have, if Ozma hadn’t decided it was time to save Oz.

  SEVEN

  The Lion had gotten into the habit of sleeping in every morning and ordering a late breakfast in his room, but that morning Ozma summoned him just after dawn. She did not seem to have slept, and her face was worried and exhausted. She sent a servant to fetch them breakfast and then turned to face the Lion. “I’ve been thinking all night,” she began, skipping any formalities. “I think it’s for the best you’ve come to the palace now. My dear Lion, I’m afraid I need your courage—and your counsel. No one else knows yet, but Oz is on the brink of war.”

  The Lion stared at her. “War? Again? With who?”

  She sighed wearily and rubbed her forehead with the heel of one hand, looking far more vulnerable than he had ever seen her. “Do you know of the Land of Ev?”

  “Ev? But that’s just a legend, isn’t it?” The Lion had heard stories of the fabled country beyond the Deadly Desert, but he’d always assumed they were just children’s fairy stories. “There’s nothing past the Deadly Desert but the Other Place.”

  “I wish that were true. But Ev is another country just like Oz, though the fairies didn’t have any hand in founding it. And just like Oz, it has its own counties and rulers. My ancestors traveled through Ev to reach the place where they created Oz, and brought with them stories of their journey. Ev is a far less kind place than Oz is, peopled with strange, cruel creatures who do not love peace the way we do. Many of them have searched for years for a way through the desert to Oz, and now one of their most evil tyrants has found one.”

  “Who?” the Lion breathed.

  “The Nome King,” Ozma said. The Lion had never heard of such a person, but something about the way Ozma said the name sent a chill through him. “He lives in an underground palace, and rules over a people who are the distant kin of fairies. He is evil, through and through; he thrives on the pain and suffering of others, and all but the most powerful of his people live like slaves. He forces them to mine the earth for precious metals and jewels, and in addition to being powerful, he’s incredibly rich. He’s like the fairies in that he can’t die—he’s hundreds of years old, maybe even older. For a long time he’s been building a network of tunnels under the Deadly Desert, and he’s finally reached his goal. He’ll be at the Emerald City in a matter of days. His magic is so strong that I can sense him coming. I can even sense his plans. He’s not trying to hide; he knows how vulnerable we are here.”

  “How can we stop him?” the Lion asked, and Ozma shook her head.

  “I don’t know yet. He’s incredibly powerful, and the Emerald City has no army.”

  “Glinda—” the Lion began, and then stopped as Ozma smiled sadly at him.

  “Glinda has an army, yes. But I can’t trust her, Lion. Not the way I can trust you. I don’t think she would throw in her lot with the Nome King, but she has her own ideas about how to govern Oz, and I can’t count on her support. It’s down to me—and you, if you’ll help me. You fought bravely in
the battle against Jinjur, and I need every strong fighter we have on my side. The people of Oz aren’t used to war.”

  “Of course,” the Lion said immediately. He had come here to protect Ozma, right? He hadn’t promised Glinda he wouldn’t help Ozma—only that he’d search for the Wizard’s necklace, and keep an eye on Ozma while Glinda was away from the city. And he was already coming to care for the young queen. She was such an intriguing combination of youth and wisdom, strength and vulnerability—and she’d treated him like an equal and a friend. Even Glinda hadn’t done that. If he hadn’t bound himself to Glinda back in the Forest of the Beasts, he would have abandoned his vows to her altogether. He knew Glinda’s spell had compelled him to help her, but it seemed as though the strength of it was weakening the longer he was in the palace. He’d worry about Glinda’s desire for the necklace later. If the Emerald City fell to the Nome King, he wouldn’t be doing much looking for jewelry anyway.

  “Do you have a plan?” the Lion asked. “Of course I’ll fight with you, but strategy is Scare’s department, not mine.”

  Ozma frowned. “I’d rather not bring him into this if I can help it.”

  So things really had gone south between the three of them. What had the Scarecrow and Glinda tried to do in the aftermath of the battle with Jinjur? Never mind, the Lion thought. Palace intrigue is Scare’s thing; I just eat and fight. Let him and Glinda try to outmaneuver each other. He wondered briefly what would happen if he disobeyed Glinda altogether. How powerful was the spell that bound him? Surely she wouldn’t actually hurt him if he decided not to obey her orders? The situation was far more complicated than he thought, and it seemed entirely possible that Glinda wasn’t on Ozma’s side at all. Suddenly, he realized Ozma was still talking.

  “. . . can convince him otherwise, we might be able to avoid fighting altogether. I was hoping you would agree to be my bodyguard.”