L. Frank Baum - Oz 40

by Merry Go Round In Oz

“I don’t want to get across until I have the Circlet.” Prince Gules said firmly.

  “Oh,” said Robin, rather dashed. “I sort of forgot about the Circlet. I suppose you couldn’t just buy another Circlet exactly like it?” he suggested without much hope.

  “There are no others like it” the Prince exclaimed. Then, realizing that Robin had not yet been told of the magical powers of the Circlets, he explained that the manual skill, and therefore the prosperity, of everyone in Halidom depended on this particular Circlet and no other. Of course, once Robin understood this, he saw perfectly why the Prince wouldn’t leave without it.

  “But I still don’t see how we’re to get it,” he sighed. “And from what I know of Roundelay, he’ll never give it up unless somebody makes him do it.”

  “Ozma could make him do it,” Dorothy declared. “If we could all get out of here, and go straight to the Em’rald City, and get Ozma to help-”

  “I don’t want Ozma to help,” the Prince said stubbornly. “I want to do it all myself!”

  No amount of arguing would move him from this stand, and finally Dorothy and Fess exchanged a helpless glance and gave it up, listening with gloomy misgivings to the Prince’s plan-which was to capture Roundelay and make the Roundheads ransom him with the Circlet-and Fred’s plan, which was to toss Roundelay onto the whirling road and then simply kick the Machine to pieces. The others grew quite interested in working out the details of these dashing schemes, but neither Dorothy nor Fess had much faith in them, and soon moved a little distance away to put their heads together.

  “The Roundheads couldn’t get the Circlet any more than we can-even if they wanted to ransom that crafty old Roundelay, which I’ll bet they wouldn’t,” Dorothy muttered.

  “Yes-and how’s Fred going to climb up that skinny little staircase to get at the Machine to kick it?” Fess added. “The only thing to do, Dorothy, is for you and the Lion to escape and go to the Emerald City for help, while the rest of us wait here. I’ll try to keep the Prince from doing anything reckless, but you’d better hurry.”

  “Hurry? I don’t even know the way!” Dorothy said in despair. “Oh, Fess, let’s take one more look at that awful staircase and see if we can think of something else.”

  The two of them, and the Flittermouse, who happened to be napping on Fess’s shoulder at the time, went back to the Round

  Tower and once more examined the empty room, the twisting spiral staircase, and the platform high above their heads. In the light of the real moon, which filtered through the dark blue glass of the Tower walls, it all looked twice as sinister-and three times as discouraging-as before.

  “I s’pose that is the Circlet up there?” Dorothy said. “For all we really know, that Shining Circle is something else altogether.”

  Fess shook his head positively. “It’s the Circlet, all right. Roundelay as good as admitted it. I wonder how he ever got hold

  of it?”

  “Maybe the popinjay was blown here, in that windstorm, Dorothy ventured.

  “But Fess dear,” Flitter put in sleepily, “it was something to do with Sir Greves. Remember? He said ‘ask Sir Greves.’

  “Yes, he did,” Fess said thoughtfully. “How queer! I can’t imagine what he meant.”

  “Maybe we should go home and ask Sir Greves?” Flitter suggested in a hopeful voice. “I’m kind of tired of this place, Fess dear, I don’t think I want to stay here very much longer.”

  “Well, I don’t either,” Fess sighed, stroking his little pet with one finger as they turned to leave. “But I don’t see any way out of it right now. Maybe one of us will have a bright idea by morning.”

  There was nothing to do but hope for this, and very soon the whole party had disposed itself comfortably on the velvet hassocks or the soft circular rugs in the Round Room. Fred, who preferred

  to sleep standing up, posted himself by the great glass door, ready to kick if necessary, and Merry, who did not sleep at all, wandered off to the kitchens where she could prowl around and think about things without disturbing the others.

  Flitter could not get to sleep, possibly because he had napped too long on Fess’s shoulder after dinner. After trying for some time, he heaved a small sigh, crept out from under Fess’s cap and began swooping rather aimlessly about the room in hope of finding a gnat or two. The moon-lamp had gone out long ago, but he could see perfectly well in the dark, and soon noticed that the door of the Tower was ajar. This made him blink his black-sequin eyes and skitter away to the throne, on the arm of which he perched for a few moments, peering at the door and hoping earnestly that he would not see Something creeping in. No Something appeared, however, and he soon realized that Fess had merely neglected to close the door properly when he and Dorothy returned from their Second inspection of the Tower.

  This made him quite brave again-so brave that he swooped right over to the door, edged through the narrow opening by banking acrobatically, and perched on the inside doorknob, feeling intrepid and verse-picacious and Smart. He felt so Smart, in fact, that he began wishing there were some problem he could solve for Fess-dear, or Dorothy, or the Unicorn, or the Prince. Not the problem of How To Get The Circlet, of course-that was a Large problem; a People-Sized problem, one might say. What he needed was just a Small, Unimportant, Oh-By-The-Way, Footnote sort

  of problem, suitable for small, unimportant, footnote-ish creatures like Flittermice.

  “Like watching for Nannies,” Flitter explained to himself. “And noticing Dorothy’s dress on the clothesline. And remembering that the Oracle said ‘right before your eyes.’ That sort of thing. I remembered about ‘ask Sir Greves,’ too.”

  He considered this last contribution doubtfully; it was Flittermouse-sized, all right, but it didn’t seem to be anything anybody wanted.

  “And even a Small, Unimportant Problem ought to be a problem somebody wants solved,” Flitter told himself severely. He thought very hard for a moment, and then remembered that Dorothy, at least, might like to know for sure whether the Shining Circle was really and truly a Golden Circlet.

  “I could find that out, I think,” Flitter confided to himself, eyeing the lofty platform. “I’ll just fly up there and take a peek. I’ll be careful,” he promised. “I won’t even touch the stair.”

  Swooping silently off the doorknob, he began flying around and around the spirals of the staircase, keeping a good margin of space between it and his wing-tips. He could not help feeling just a little timid about passing above the edge of the platform, but after hovering a moment just below it, and swallowing several times, he made one swift dart and found himself skittering quite safely about very top of the Tower, with the alarm-bells still silent. Descending a trifle, he peered curiously down at the platform. Just

  of the edge, the Machine crouched, glinting a little in the moonlight and looking fearfully malevolent, but not doing anything dangerous. Behind the Machine the platform was quite empty except for a round velvet cushion and quite a bit of dust. In the center of the cushion lay a golden bracelet.

  Flitter stared at this some moments, waving his wings just enough to keep aloft, and experiencing a growing sensation that all was not as it should be. Then it burst upon him what was wrong. “A bracelet?” he squeaked in a frantic whisper, bouncing several inches upwards and beginning to flutter distractedly here and there. “But it shouldn’t be a bracelet! It should be a little bitty thing. “The verse says so! ‘Circlet Three, a tiny thing’. Dorothy’s right! This isn’t the Circlet, it’s only some old Shining Circle. It’s -I’ll just go peek inside it. I’ll be very careful. .”

  Swooping cautiously down toward the platform, he hung with quivering wings just over the velvet cushion, ducking his head until he was almost upside down, in an effort to scan the inside surface of the bracelet. It was smooth and blank, on the portion of the curve that he could see. He pivoted slowly in midair, examining the rest of the curve-and suddenly there were words engraved in the gold. “Herald of Halidom. 2,” they said. “T
wo?” Flitter squeaked. He was now utterly bewildered. “But it’s supposed to be Circlet Three. Why does it say Two?”

  The answer came quickly, even to Flitter: “Because it’s Circlet

  Two.”

  “Well!” Flitter gasped. “Well, fancy that!”

  He blinked down in amazement at the shining thing so close beneath him. It was very close beneath him-so close that his dangling feet were almost touching it. Quite suddenly, without thinking the matter over at all, he plummeted the remaining half-inch, snatched the Circlet off the cushion, and swooped away, carrying it in his claws.

  “My goodness!” he squeaked. “Oh, my goodness, MY GOODNESS! I’ve got the Circlet! I’ve got the Circlet! I’ve got

  the-Fess, dear! Oh, FE-YUS, DEAR …”

  By this time the Flittermouse was simply shrieking, and soon remembered to fly toward the door, instead of merely here and there inside the Tower. In another instant he had flung himself through the door’s narrow opening and was swooping wildly around and around the Round Room, banging the Circlet against the travelers’ heads, and shrilly commanding them to wake up and see his Surprise.

  Chapter 18

  NEEDLESS to say, one glimpse of the Surprise had everyone wide awake, and for a while the Round House simply vibrated with rejoicing. Flitter had never been so marveled at, and exclaimed over, and praised, and petted, and congratulated, and thanked, in all his life-nor had he ever dreamed he would be. He was soon breathless from telling his

  story, as well as speechless from being the center of attention, and finally so worn out from the sheer excitement of everything that when Prince Gules solemnly promised him a silver collar engraved “For Distinguished Service To King and Country,” the little creature was quite overcome, and burst into tears. Fess understandingly bore him off to take a nap under his cap, then rejoined the others to discuss the find.

  Everyone was as astonished as Flitter that it was Circlet Two Roundelay had hidden in the Tower, since they all had been convinced it was Circlet Three. But as Prince Gules said, when you stopped to think, it really made more sense this way. “Roundelay somehow stole it from the Wyver,” the Prince declared as he slipped the Circlet over his sleeve-a rather soiled and shabby sleeve by now-and settled it firmly on his upper arm. “I never did understand how he could have got hold of Circlet Three, anyway.

  “But the verse-” Dorothy began in a puzzled tone.

  “Yes, it was the verse about Circlet Three that mentioned Roundabout,” the Prince admitted. “That’s odd. The Oracle must have been confused.”

  “Oh, not the Oracle!” Fred exclaimed with awful sarcasm.

  “No, because the verse about Circlet Two fits fine,” Fess said. Half-closing his eyes, he recited it from memory:

  “Circlet Two, of purest gold, Was carried off by a villain bold;

  Problems will your path encumber, Trust in the humblest of your number-

  Meaning Flitter! Just as the Unicorn guessed,” he added, patting

  the Royal Emblem’s snowy neck. “Nothing confused about that.”

  “Just hoping to confuse U5, more likely,” muttered Fred, who still had no use for Oracles.

  “Well, we’ll prob’ly understand later what it meant by mentioning ‘roundabout way in that third verse,” Dorothy said philosophically. “We always do understand what the verses mean-after we’ve found a Circlet.”

  “-and therefore have no need to understand,” Fred added The Cowardly Lion, who loved Fred’s heavy-hoofed irony tactfully turned a grin into a yawn. “Never mind-who wants to understand ‘em? Seems to me we’re doing fine on our own. We’ve got two of the Circlets now-only one more to go. You fellows feeling any more muscular, by the way?”

  “I could knock that door down with one hoof!” Fred assured

  him.

  “And I’ll challenge the whole Roundhead army-swords or lances!” Prince Gules said recklessly.

  Robin gazed at him with admiration, but said, “I don’t think there is an army.”

  “They don’t need one. They’ve got that road,” the Cowardly Lion said with a shudder. “We’re not out of this place yet, by a

  long way, and I’ve got a funny idea plenty more of those problems are going to our path encumber before we are out. I for one am going to get some more sleep.”

  This idea appealed to the others, too, so after agreeing that they would make a dash for the bridge at six o’clock next morn-mg, they settled themselves to sleep for the rest of the night.

  At dawn, Merry softly nudged Robin awake, bringing the news that she had found the doughnut bin in her prowlings about the kitchen.

  “I don’t care for myself,” she whispered, “but I know you Real Creatures get hungry. I found some old maps, too.”

  “Maps? In the kitchen?” Robin said, blinking himself awake.

  “No, in another room-a little office place right behind the kitchen. I think it might be Roundelay’s, because there’s an old cap there that looks just like his. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Rubbing his nose, which always itched when he first woke up, Robin tiptoed after the little mare, out of the Round Room and down a curving flight of steps to the deserted kitchens. Behind them, as Merry had told him, was a small circular chamber containing a desk littered with papers, a shabby hassock, and a peaked hat hanging from a hook on the wall. The rest of the wall space was covered with well-worn maps.

  “I suppose they’re maps of Roundelay’s rounds, when he was a peddler,” Robin said with a yawn. “There isn’t one that shows how to go to the Emerald City, is there?”

  “No, I looked. I suppose Roundelay never went there. But

  there’s one that shows how to go from here to Halidom. See? That blue one over there.”

  “So that’s Halidom,” Robin murmured, walking over to study the map in fascination. “Why, it looks like half a shield, Merry-a coat-of-arms kind of shield. And Troth’s the other half! ‘River Argent’… oh, don’t you ‘wish’ we could go there, and see a real tourney, and real knights jousting, and all the banners, and armor and everything? And did you ever dream we’d know a real Prince? Don’t you think he’s just the most princely prince you could imagine? My, I wish I were just like him.” “I’d rather you were just like you,” Merry said solemnly

  Robin smiled and patted her scarlet neck, then started prying up the thumbtacks that held the map. “Maybe Prince Gules could use this sometime. I’ll take it, just in case. Roundelay owes him something for stealing his Circlet.” Folding the map hastily, he stuffed it into his pocket. “Come on, let’s find that doughnut bin. It’ll soon be six o’clock.

  When they returned to the Round Room with a basket full of doughnuts, they found the rest of the party awake and eager to escape. As soon as the doughnuts had disappeared-which was very soon indeed-Fess saddled Fred for the Prince, Dorothy made sure the Egg was firmly wedged in its basket, and the four humans of the party climbed on their accustomed mounts. Fred took up a good kicking position by the great glass door. The others ranged themselves behind him, ready to dash. Flitter darted

  to the window as lookout and hovered there, his shiny black eyes fixed on the curve of the spinning road where the bridge would soon appear.

  A full minute passed, in tense and utter silence.

  “Oh, goodness!” Dorothy burst out. “I wish they’d hurry and extend that bridge, so we could get this over with!”

  “What are we going to do about the people, Fess dear?” Flitter said anxiously.

  “People?”

  “Yes, Roundheads. The street’s full of them. They’re all walking toward the gates with their baskets. Do we just trample them, or ought we to jump over them?”

  “I can jump over them, I’m good at jumping,” Merry confided to the Unicorn.

  “Well, I jumped over a lot of those Good Children, so I guess I can clear Roundheads too,” the Cowardly Lion growled. “Not that I was planning on it. Did you realize there’d be a lot of people cluttering up
the street?” he asked Robin uneasily.

  “I didn’t exactly think about it,” Robin confessed, swallowing. “Why don’t they hurry with the bridge? We’ve got to get out of here before Roundelay shows up, or he-”

  “There!” shrieked the Flittermouse. “There’s the bridge; there’s the bridge, there’s the bridge! Kick, Fred-”

  His squeaks were obliterated by a perfectly paralyzing crash which sounded as if somebody had dropped ten dozen milk bottles and a whole tray of dishes down a flight of concrete steps. Fred

  had kicked-with spectacular success. Momentarily stunned, the door-travelers blinked at the circle of sunlight which had replaced the blue glass door. Then, as the last slivers of glass tinkled to rest, they all recovered from the shock at once and hurled themselves at the opening. The result was that the Lion and Fred, who were the most impetuous, wedged themselves in the doorway like a double cork. The others, unprepared for this sudden halt, trod on their heels and fell over each other in a tangle. There was a moment of chaos, but after some struggling, the Lion squeezed through. He bounded into the street, Fred clattered after him, and in an instant the others were streaming behind.

  Their progress immediately became that of broken-field runners in a football game. The Roundheads, startled out of their wits-first by the crash of the breaking door and then by the eruption through it of all their State Visitors, their Royal Symbol and their King-simply stood as if rooted in the street, and became so many obstacles for the fleeing travelers to dodge around. In spite of this, the Cowardly Lion was beginning to believe they might make it safely to the bridge, when one of the Roundheads suddenly came to life.

  “Hold on there!” he cried. “Stop, stop! They’re escaping!” he screamed at his fellows.

  “Oh-oh,!” groaned the Lion, flattening his ears. “Hold on, Dorothy. I may have to fly!”