No Place Like Oz: A Dorothy Must Die Prequel Novella(22)

Just then, Toto came racing out of the house, followed by Aunt Em and Uncle Henry, who were looking around in a daze, like they hadn’t really expected any of this to still be here. Toto began barking and leaping into the air, trying to catch the Pixies, who dipped and dove around him, taunting him with their squeaky giggles. I hoped he liked dried cod.

“Aunt Em!” I called. “Uncle Henry! The Scarecrow is going to take us to the Emerald City. Isn’t the carriage marvelous?”

“It looks like a big Fabergé egg,” Aunt Em said. “I always found them a bit gaudy myself.” But I could tell from the way she was staring that she was more impressed than she cared to admit.

“The Emerald City?” Uncle Henry asked. “I thought we were going to find your friend Glinda?”

“We’re going to meet with Ozma,” I said, trying to reassure them. “She’s the princess of Oz. She’ll help us find Glinda. Besides, don’t you want to see the magnificent Emerald City?”

The Scarecrow was extremely diplomatic about the whole thing. “You can’t come all the way to Oz and miss out on the Emerald City,” he said. When my aunt and uncle looked at him dubiously, he added: “The princess is a formidable magic user in her own right. If she can’t send you home herself, she will no doubt be eager to help you find the Sorceress.”

It took a little convincing, but eventually they gave in, and soon Uncle Henry was helping Aunt Em up into the carriage. At least we had a ride this time. I think after yesterday’s ordeals, we were all more than happy to be traveling in comfort.



The inside of the carriage was lined with plush velvet cushions, and the Scarecrow and I sat on one side with my aunt and uncle on the other. A tea service floated on a tray between us.

“Tea?” the Scarecrow asked Aunt Em, handing her a little pink cup.

She looked like she wanted to say no, but Aunt Em can never resist a good cup of tea.

“Do you have Earl Grey?” she asked.

“I have whatever you’d like,” he replied. He pointed at the kettle on the tray.

“How do I brew it?” she asked curiously.

“Just pour it and imagine the best cup of tea you can think of.”


Aunt Em looked dubious, but she gingerly poured herself a serving, and when she took a sip, her eyes lit up. “That’s Earl Grey, all right!” she said in delight. And then, curiously: “Did you cast a spell on it?”

The Scarecrow chortled. “A spell! I should think not. I’m a man of science. In fact, it’s the milk of the rare Chimera. While it remains inside the kettle, it exists in infinite liquid forms—it’s not until you pour it that it takes on the qualities you desire of it.”

“Does it serve up scotch, too?” Uncle Henry joked.

“I don’t see why not,” the Scarecrow said.

Soon my uncle was contentedly tippling his favorite Glenlivet vintage and I had poured myself a cup of rich, dark hot chocolate, and then we were off. The carriage shot forward down the road like a bolt of lightning. The scenery was whipping past us in a green and gold blur, but we were perfectly comfortable inside our cozy little bubble. Every time we curved into a hairpin turn or went speeding down a hill, our vehicle would adjust itself so that we didn’t even shift in our seats.

“Henry Ford could take a lesson from whoever built this,” Uncle Henry marveled, gazing out the window.

Outside the carriage, forests, villages, and rivers all appeared and disappeared as quickly as they’d popped into sight while the Saw-Horse sped ahead, moving with such speed that his wooden feet didn’t even make a sound against the brick road.

“He really is fast,” I said to the Scarecrow.

“He is indeed. He claims to be the fastest horse in the land, and I don’t doubt him. He’s also Ozma’s closest confidant, you know. He’s been with her longer than anyone. He’s the one who brought her back to the city after her exile, and he’s been her most loyal servant ever since.”

It almost made me sorry for this Ozma, to think that her only friend was a wooden horse that looked more like a piece of scrap lumber than an animal. Even Miss Millicent had to make a better friend than a talking log jammed together with a few twigs.

When he was certain that Aunt Em and Uncle Henry weren’t paying attention, wrapped up as they were in their own conversation and in watching the scenery, the Scarecrow put his arm around me casually and leaned in close, whispering, “Be careful what you say in the Saw-Horse’s presence. Rest assured that anything you tell him will find its way to the princess’s ear.”

I nodded slowly, not sure what to make of any of it.

After a bit, the Saw-Horse began to slow his pace, and I saw that we had come to a wide river.

“Oh dear,” the Scarecrow said. “Isn’t this always the way. It’s the Wandering Water.”

“What’s that?” Aunt Em asked nervously.

“Just another of Munchkin Country’s many nuisances,” the Scarecrow explained with a wave of his stuffed hand.

“If it’s anything like the Forest of Fear, I’m turning back now,” Henry said firmly. “And Emily is coming with me.”

I didn’t speak up, but I had to agree that, after yesterday, we had all had more than our fill of Oz’s alliterative annoyances.