No Place Like Oz: A Dorothy Must Die Prequel Novella(12)

They began to reveal themselves, a few at a time, their little faces slowly popping out of bushes and shadows and doorways and everywhere else you could imagine, like frogs after a rainstorm. Soon, we were surrounded by at least two dozen of the little people, none of whom were more than three feet high and all of whom were wearing little blue breeches and gold-embroidered bolero jackets, and funny pointy hats with bells around the brim.

“Declare yourself!” a voice shouted out from the crowd.

“It’s me!” I replied, not sure who I was supposed to be addressing. “I’ve returned. I’m so happy to be back—I’ve missed you all so much.”

A Munchkin man stepped forward, looking up at me quizzically. He glanced at my outstretched hand, but made no move to return my shake. “Excuse me, young lady,” he said. “I am Cos, the alderman of this Munchkin village. And who are you?”

I cocked my head in surprise, and looked around.

“Well it’s me of course. Dorothy Gale.” I gestured up at the statue. “See?”

Cos looked up, back and forth between the figure and me, comparing the resemblance.

For a second there was silence. Next, a murmur spread through the crowd. Then, as one, they began to roar, “Dorothy!”

Cos took off his hat, twisting the brim in his hand like he was embarrassed to have forgotten me. There still seemed to be some uncertainty in his eyes, though, as he examined me intently. “Dorothy? The Witchslayer? Is it really you?”

Witchslayer? I liked that. “It’s me,” I said happily.

“It’s been a very long time,” Cos said slowly. “We never thought we’d see you again.”

“I’ve been trying and trying to get back,” I said, kneeling so that we were face-to-face. “It’s not so easy, you know. A good, strong wind only comes around once every so often.”

I rose back up to my feet and looked around at the growing throng surrounding us, all of them gazing up at me in awed admiration.

I wanted to stay and talk, to hear about everything that had happened in Oz since I’d been gone. But there wasn’t time for that. There were more pressing things to worry about now. Like finding Glinda.

I wasn’t sure how much I should say about what I’d seen back at the old farmhouse. It was possible that no one knew, yet, that anything was wrong with Glinda. If that was the case, it was probably a wiser idea not to let the cat out of the bag in front of an entire village of Munchkins, who, truthfully, are known for being an anxious and high-strung people.

Instead, I decided it was better just to try to get as much information as I could before I decided what to do next. “How has everything been lately?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Cos seemed befuddled by my question, and the Munchkins began to chatter amongst themselves.

“I mean, how has Oz been, since I’ve been gone? There haven’t been any more witches causing trouble, or anything like that, have there?”

“Oh no, Miss Dorothy,” Cos replied, bobbing his red, cheerful face up and down. “We Munchkins have never been happier, since you slayed the witches all those many moons ago. The crops grow, the sun shines, and there is good magic everywhere. Praise Ozma!”

Hmm. So whatever had happened to Glinda, the Munchkins didn’t seem to know about it.

But what was Ozma?

“Miss Dorothy, would you and your family like to stay for a feast?” A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd at Cos’s invitation. “We would like to celebrate your visit.”

It sounded tempting. A big Munchkin feast—all in celebration of me!—would certainly be a good way to make up for the disaster that had been my Sweet Sixteen. And Munchkins are known to be magicians in the kitchen—literally. But . . .

“I’m sorry,” I said, kneeling down again. “But it’s very important that I see the king right away.”

“Now, Dorothy . . . ,” Uncle Henry interjected.

“The king?” Cos asked. “What king?”

“Why, the King of Oz, of course,” I said in surprise.

When I first came to Oz, before the humbug Wizard had packed up his balloon to head back to America, he had chosen to appoint my friend the Scarecrow as the new king, and the people of Oz had immediately embraced him as their ruler. My friend the Tin Woodman had been made the governor of Winkie Country, and the Lion the King of Beasts. When I’d gone back to Kansas, I’d done it knowing that I was leaving Oz in good hands.

But now it seemed that the Munchkins didn’t know who I was talking about.

“We don’t have a king,” Cos said. The rest of them all nodded their agreement.

“But I was there when they put the crown on his head,” I said.

They all began to mutter confusedly amongst themselves. “Oz has only one true monarch,” Cos said. “Princess Ozma. The rightful and just ruler of our land.”

“Princess what?” I had never heard of any princess before.

They all began talking over each other, trying to explain how great this Ozma person was. “Princess Ozma is beautiful and kind! Princess Ozma is our one true ruler! Long live Ozma!”

“What about the Scarecrow?” I asked.

Cos’s face brightened. “Oh,” he said. “The Scarecrow. I’d forgotten all about him. Well, I suppose he was king. But that was for a very short time indeed, and it was ages ago.”