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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. |
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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? &nbs |
