dorothy must die 00.4 - heart of tin (2 page)

“Who—” she began, and then she recognized me and her irritated expression changed to a smile. She gave a little curtsy. “Oh, hello, sir. I wish I could help you, but—”

“You have to understand how important this is. Dorothy has to be informed that I’m here! I must see her!”

Now she just looked confused. “But sir,” she said politely, “Dorothy
does
know you’re here. She’s aware of all the guests that have arrived. Would you like to see the Scarecrow or the Lion while you wait for the banquet tonight? They got to the palace just yesterday as well.” I gaped at her. Dorothy knew I was here? But why hadn’t she sent for me? The servant looked at me almost pityingly. “I know Dorothy and Her Majesty, Ozma, have been very busy preparing for the banquet,” she added. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, sir.” She turned back to her window.

What could Dorothy possibly be doing to prepare for a banquet that was so important that she couldn’t see me? I thought about looking for the Scarecrow or the Lion, but it was Dorothy I was desperate to see and I didn’t want to share my disappointment with anyone. How could she possibly have failed to summon me if she already knew I was at the palace? Was there a chance she
didn’t
want to see me as badly as I wanted to see her? Surely not—but nevertheless, doubt began to creep in at the corners of my mind. In dismay, I returned to my chambers, where I summoned the Winkie coachman and spent the afternoon with
him playing chess. I was so distracted I kept thinking we were playing checkers instead, and the pieces obligingly transformed from rooks and pawns to checkers counters. The coachman let me win anyway.

Finally, it was time to get ready for the banquet. I carefully re-oiled my joints and summoned a maid to polish me to a blinding glow. When she could see her own reflection in my patchworked tin chest, she curtsied and began to leave, but I stopped her. “You are my sun, my moon, my starlit sky!” I proclaimed, testing the words’ effect.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” the maid asked politely.

“Oh, it’s hopeless,” I said miserably, sinking into a chair and burying my face in my tin palms. “Absolutely hopeless. I don’t know how to tell her. I don’t know the right thing to say.”

“To whom, sir?”

“To Dorothy,” I mumbled into my fingers. “It has to be exactly right, so that she knows how I feel, but it can’t sound desperate—she has to see me as dashing, and I want to remind her of everything we shared, and tell her how beautiful she is, and how special, and how noble and generous and sweet and good and—”

The maid pulled up another chair. “If you don’t mind some advice, sir,” she said, “that’s an awful lot to try to fit into one hello. Why don’t you just be yourself?”

I lifted my head and stared at her. “What do you mean, be myself?”

“Well,” she said reasonably, “you had all sorts of travels
together, didn’t you? It’s the stuff of legend, sir. Everyone in Oz knows about how you and Miss Dorothy and the Scarecrow and the Lion defeated the Wizard and sent him away, and liberated the Winkies, and how honorably Dorothy behaved to the winged monkeys, and all of that. You’re a noble figure, sir. You’re a king and a soldier and I think Dorothy would have to be an awfully silly girl not to be impressed by all of that. So just be yourself. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

“But what if it’s not meant to be?” I asked her. “How do I convince her?”

“That’s just not how it works, sir. You can’t convince people of feelings they don’t have. But you’ll know, I’m sure you will. From the way she looks at you. She’s a smart girl, that Dorothy; she couldn’t have saved Oz otherwise. She won’t beat around the bush if she has feelings for you, too. Anyway, you look very handsome.”

This little maid was the most sensible person I had talked to in months. “That’s very good advice,” I said. “Thank you, you’ve been a big help. What’s your name?”

“Jellia, sir.”

“Well, Jellia, perhaps you’ll keep this conversation to yourself.” She winked at me and made a zippering motion over her lips.

“What conversation, sir?” she asked.

The ballroom was packed. All of Oz, it seemed, had turned out to witness our savior’s return. A huge orchestra, set up at the far end of the enormous hall, played cheery waltzes.
Rainbow-colored butterflies fluttered gaily over the instruments, sending showers of confetti swirling through the air. My old friends the Scarecrow and the Lion were there, of course. The Scarecrow was dressed in a new suit chosen for the occasion, and the Lion’s fur had been brushed to a burnished golden glow. The Scarecrow caught sight of me first, and waved merrily. I crossed the crowded room, making my way through throngs of Ozians decked out in their finest clothes, to greet my old friend. “You made it!” he shouted over the noise, clapping me on the back and shaking my hand. The Lion roared his approval, sending a brief tremor of fear through the nearest partygoers before they realized who was doing the roaring. I wondered briefly if the Scarecrow was resentful—after all, not too long ago, this palace had been his. But if he was upset to have been deposed by Ozma, he didn’t show it. Of course, his face was painted on, so his expressions were sometimes hard to read. Anyway, as happy as I was to see them, I had larger matters on my mind than catching up. “Have you seen her?” I asked the Scarecrow frantically. “Where is she? Is she here?” He gave me a long, strange, startled look.

“It’s good to see you, too,” he said, laughing. “Tin, what on earth? We haven’t seen each other in ages, and—” A hush fell over the throng, and I knew at once that she had arrived. My stuffed heart in my throat, I turned to face the ballroom’s grand entrance.

The sweet-faced girl I remembered was gone, replaced by a woman so beautiful that I nearly wept. Her dress was of the same
blue gingham that she’d worn during her last sojourn in Oz, but it was cut to flatter her figure, and ended inches above her knees. It was stitched with gold thread that sent dazzling rays of light across the room and left bare her long, pale legs. Instead of the silver slippers she’d left Oz in, she wore a towering pair of glittering red heels that shone so brightly that they drowned out all the other light sources in the room, pulsing slightly as if in time to the pattern of her breath.

After a moment I noticed the people at her side: a frumpy old couple, looking lost and out of place, who could only be the Aunt Em and Uncle Henry she’d spoken of so fondly when she was last in Oz. But these humble people could hardly be related to the glorious creature whose radiant smile dominated the whole room. Dear little Toto yapped happily at Dorothy’s heels, oblivious to the power radiating from her shoes. And of course, Ozma stood behind Dorothy with an expression that looked almost . . . disapproving. Like all of us, she must have realized that tired old Aunt Em and Uncle Henry had no place here. But if they were with Dorothy, did that mean she had returned for good?

Dorothy moved through the joyous crowd, greeting old friends and new ones with the same grace. She was as regal as a queen. I waited for her to catch sight of me, preparing myself to hold her in my arms at last. But as she approached, the Scarecrow ran to Dorothy and swept her up in his arms, tossing her into the air as she shrieked with joy. The band struck up a waltz and they whirled together across the purple-lit dance floor. I knew he had no idea of the depth of my feelings for Dorothy, but I couldn’t
help staring after them in a frenzy of jealousy nonetheless.

At last, as if he could feel the force of my gaze burning a hole through his head, he danced Dorothy back to me. I had been waiting for this moment for so long, but all the flowery words I’d prepared vanished. I remembered what the maid had told me—
just be yourself
. But now that I was actually holding Dorothy in my arms, I could barely even manage to stutter a hello. Up close, her beauty was even more stunning, more astonishing. There was a new light in her eyes and her cheeks were flushed. The air around her crackled with magic. There was no mistaking this Dorothy for the child who had left me when she went back to the Other Place. This Dorothy was like a brand-new person.

“Tin Woodman!” she shrieked in my ear, her voice even more musical than the notes the orchestra played. At last, I remembered myself, and twirled her around before dipping her so low her long ringlets nearly brushed the ground. She laughed gaily. I pulled her close to my chest, and the orchestra slowed the tempo to something more romantic. The people around us cleared a space, surrounding us in a transfixed circle as I moved with her in tighter and tighter circles. The whole world fell away—it was just me and her, the strawberry-sweet smell of her hair, the softness of her skin a perfect contrast to the hard metal of my arms and torso. I was so overcome I would have swooned, but I couldn’t allow the moment to end. “It’s so good to see you again,” she murmured in my ear, her gentle voice sending a shiver through me. “I’ve missed you so much.” Was there a knowing sparkle in her eyes, a special look that was just for me?
Did she know how I felt without my even having to say it out loud? I took a deep breath.

“Dorothy, you are my moonlit star—” I began, but her gaze suddenly focused on something over my shoulder.

“Oh my goodness, Tin, look! It’s Polychrome! How wonderful! Simply
everyone
has come to my ball!”

“Dorothy, my starlit moon—” I tried again, but she released me, sending me stumbling backward into the waiting crowd. “I’ll see you again soon, darling Tin!” she trilled, clicking away briskly on her red heels. When I caught my balance again, she was already chattering away with Polychrome. I would have kicked myself if my joints were flexible enough. My
starlit moon
? The first time I’d seen the love of my life in years, and I’d called her a starlit moon? I cursed aloud, earning a surprised look from a Munchkin passing by with a tray of canapés.

“Penny for your thoughts, old tin can!” bellowed a familiar voice. I tried to control my emotions as the Lion slapped my back with one enormous paw, nearly knocking me over. “Where have you
been
, old sport? Heard you were in the palace yesterday, but haven’t seen a peep of you until now. Hiding from your old mates, are you?”

“Not at all,” I said, gathering the ruins of my dignity. “It’s wonderful to see you. I wasn’t feeling well, is all.”

“Not feeling well?” the Lion asked. “Man, you’re made of tin! Don’t tell me you’re coming down with a cold.”

“Nothing like that,” I said. “Just tired from the journey. I trust you’ve been well?” The Lion brightened and launched into
an enthusiastic history of his most recent triumph, the successful management of some arcane dispute between a badger and a dormouse who lived in his forest. I couldn’t help but notice that his breath was rather rank. “And you?” he asked, finally bringing his ramble to a close. “How’s life with the Winkies? Have you tried eating one? They look awful tough.”

“Very good, very good,” I said, only half paying attention. Across the room, Dorothy had rejoined Ozma. I tried to catch her eye to no avail. Should I go to her, or let her come to me? I’d ruined our reunion—completely ruined it. I didn’t think I could take the Lion—predictable and good-natured as ever—for another moment. A wave of misery overcame me. “Excuse me,” I said faintly, “but I’m still ill. I think—I think I have to go back to my room now.”

Overcome with emotion, I broke into a half run and staggered out of the ballroom. The Wizard had given me my heart, but he’d never told me how to manage it. I’d gone so much of my life without one that I was out of practice. She’d told me that she’d missed me. I could have sworn that her look had been something special just for me. I’d flubbed my pretty speech, failed completely to tell her how I felt—but surely I still had a chance? I had no idea how to control the confusing passions that surged through my metal chest. I raced away from the ballroom and back toward my rooms. She had said we would be together. She had promised me it would be soon. I would let her accept the praise that was her due, enjoy her moment in the spotlight. I’d waited for so long. I could wait just a little longer, until I held her
in my arms once more.

THREE

The next morning, I met the Scarecrow and the Lion for breakfast in the Lion’s chambers. Like my own rooms, they were lushly appointed, but where my bed was a giant four-poster, the Lion’s was something like an enormous dog bed. Special attention had been given to the walls, which were painted with shimmering murals of antelope fleeing in terror from some unknown foe—presumably the Lion. Even the magic of the palace couldn’t cover up the Lion’s distinctive perfume, and the servants had yet to clear away a pile of gnawed bones in one corner. The Lion was the only one of us who actually ate. He was working away at an enormous raw steak when we arrived. “Being the King of Beasts really activates the appetite,” he mumbled through a mouthful of meat. The Scarecrow and I exchanged a glance. I was fond of the Lion, but couldn’t help wishing becoming royalty had improved his table manners.

Dorothy was nowhere to be seen; probably she’d already
been witness to one of the Lion’s breakfasts, and had wisely decided to pass on a second opportunity. I tried not to let my frantic anticipation show. Where was she? Why, after summoning me all the way to the palace, was she being so elusive? Was she just shy? Could it be that
she
was wondering if
I
cared about her in the same way she cared about me?

My mind was awhirl, but I made polite conversation with the Lion and the Scarecrow. We caught up on our respective comings and goings since Dorothy left Oz. The Lion was enjoying his new role as the King of Beasts, although he confessed to periodically snacking on one of his subjects. “Not the best for morale,” he admitted, “but it does wonders for discipline.”

After his brief stint as ruler of Oz, the Scarecrow had retired to a corncob mansion in the country. I wondered if he had any bad feelings toward Ozma. After all, the Wizard had appointed
him
the ruler of Oz, not that upstart fairy. But he was vague about what he’d been doing all this time. “Of course, it was such a wonderful surprise when Dorothy turned up on my doorstep with that funny old pair Em and Henry,” he said, after he’d talked for quite some time about the technical difficulties of corncob architecture. I must admit I wasn’t quite following his monologue, but I snapped to attention at that.