So Hilda and I headed for the poke bonnet. But I snatched a glass of milk and a bunch of Thompson seedless grapes on the way, and put on a milk moustache at once; I hadn’t tasted milk, real milk, in ages. Delicious!
Hilda was drawing us a tub and had peeled off her dress. The window was open but it was up high, so I peeled off mine. Hilda didn’t want milk but accepted some grapes. Then we made ourselves clean and “beautiful,” i.e., we restored our Barsoomian hairdos but without the jewelry. Whatever it was we needed, that combination bath-and-dressing room had, right at hand, from a loofa sponge to a lipstick just Aunt Hilda’s shade.
We could have spent three hours in there and enjoyed every minute, but we hurried and did it in forty-two minutes. Zebadiah looked beautiful (I knew he would; I’d picked that combo with care) and Pop looked just as smart in dark trousers and a richly simple Aloha shirt worn outside his trousers (I’d given him that shirt for his birthday and it was intended to hide a paunch that he no longer had).
There was a path from that meadow leading through the woods toward the palace. Pop, with Aunt Hilda on his arm, led off; we followed. Aunt Hilda was carrying her high-heeled shoes, so I stopped and took mine off, and glanced back toward the clearing. Gay Deceiver was there but the little cottage was missing, just as I expected. Zebadiah noticed it, too, but didn’t say anything. His face was an interesting study in total lack of expression. “I’ll put my slippers back on as we come out of the woods,” I said. “They aren’t tight, because I’ve always been used to going barefooted. But I can’t walk on high heels until I reach a hard surface.”
The grassy path debouched into the garden in front of the palace; the patch through it was hard, so Hilda and I put our shoes on. I didn’t know much about architecture but Glinda’s palace was more like a Norman château or a “Stately Home of England” than it was like the dreary castles on the Rhine—but it all had a fairyland perfection and grace, like the Taj. It would, of course.
As we started up the broad, sweeping, marble steps to the great doorway, Zebadiah stumbled. “What the hell?”
“Sssh!” I said. “Mind your language, dear. A magical staircase of course. Glinda would not make her guests have to climb to reach here. Just pretend that Escher designed these steps—he may have. Just look proud and walk as if they were level.”
As we reached the broad landing two tall trumpeters stepped out of the great doorway, one on each side, raised their long trumpets, and sounded four flourishes. An old man with a merry grin, a fringe of whiskers, a shiny bald head, a wooden left leg, and wearing a sailor’s oilskins, came out as the flourishes ended. I recognized him but wondered why he was here and not at Emerald City.
He took a pipe from his mouth and said, “Welcome to the palace of Glinda the Good! I’m Cap’n Bill. You, sir, are Doctor Burroughs the Wizard, with your wonderful wife the Princess Hilda. You must be Cap’n Zeb—howdy, Cap’n!—and everybody knows the Princess Deety; she’s spent so much of her life in Oz. Howdy, Deety! Last time I seen you, you weren’t more’n knee high to a tall duck. And now look at you! Almost up to my shoulder and married! Congratulations, Cap’n! Yer a lucky man!”
“I think so, Captain.”
“I know so. Deety, Oz sends her best wishes and sez to tell you that you and your family are welcome to stay in the Royal Kingdom of Oz as long as you like.”
“Please thank Her Royal Majesty for me, Cap’n Bill.” (Actually I’m taller than Cap’n Bill now—but of course I’ll always be a little girl to him. It’s nice.)
“Oh, I will, I will! Come on inside, folks; we ain’t formal here. Or I’m not. This ain’t my reg’lar job; I’m standing this watch for a friend o’ mine off on a little holiday.” He took my hand; it was horny and felt like Zeb’s—and just as gentle.
He led us inside, still holding my hand. “Where’s Trot?” I asked.
“Around somewhere; you’ll see her. Prob’ly picking out her best hair ribbon in your honor. Or maybe helping Betsy with Hank—little Betsy Curtis ain’t happy unless she’s workin’ … although Neptune knows that mule gets more attention than all the mules that ever came out of Missoura. This way to the library, friends.”
How does one describe Glinda the Good? Everyone knows that she is tall and stately and blond and beautiful and never frowns and wears all day long what I would think of as beautiful evening gowns with sweeping trains. But those are just words. Perhaps it’s enough to say that, just as Dejah Thoris is the most beautiful woman in the universe, the Sorceress is the most beautiful in hers.
She was surrounded by her bevy of all the most beautiful girls from all over Oz, any one of them a beauty contest winner. But Glinda outshone them all without trying. The name of the Egyptian Queen Nefertiti means both “beautiful” and “good,” all in one word; I think that explains Glinda.
She got up from her Great Book of Records, where she spends most of her time, and glided toward us—kissed Hilda first, kissed me and said, “Welcome home, Deety!” and I was so choked up I couldn’t talk; I just curtsied. She offered a hand each to Zebadiah and Pop while greeting them; they bowed simultaneously and kissed her hands.
She waved at chairs (that hadn’t been there a moment before) and invited us to sit down. Zebadiah whispered to me out of the side of his mouth, “You seem to own this place.”
“Not really,” I whispered back. “But I guess I’ve lived in Oz longer than anywhere else”—which was true; Mama and Pop lived at several campuses while I was growing up … but I always took Oz along with me wherever we moved, so I was never lonely.
“Well … I’m glad you made me dress up.”
We were introduced to each of Glinda’s girls and each one curtsied; it felt like being home in Helium—except that these girls weren’t slaves in any sense, no indentures. When I stopped to think about it, I couldn’t recall that money was ever used in Oz; it didn’t have an “economy.”
The girls were beautifully dressed, each differently but each dress was predominately the color of her own country, Munchkin blue, Gillikin purple, Winkie yellow or gold, a few in green. One girl waiting to be introduced was in red—Quadling, of course, where we were—looked familiar. That glossy black hair and dark skin with rosy cheeks—I said to her, “Is your name Fig?”
She was startled. “Why, yes, Your Highness—how did you know?” She dropped a curtsy quickly.
“I’ve been here before; ask Captain Bill. I’m not ‘Your Highness,’ I’m just Deety. Do you have a friend named Larlo?”
“Yes, Your … yes, Deety. But she’s not here now; she’s at the College of Professor Wogglebug.” Then she had to hurry to get back to her place in line. I made a mental note to tell Tira about it … someday.
I can’t tell all about everyone we met at Glinda’s palace; there were too many and more kept arriving. Everyone seemed to expect us and seemed pleased to see us. Pop did not go stark, raving mad when he met the Scarecrow because he was already deep in conversation with Professor Wogglebug and with Oz the Great, Royal Wizard to Queen Ozma—in fact, Pop was just barely polite about it, shook hands and said, “Howd’you do, Mr. Scarecrow,” and went right on talking to H. M. Wogglebug T. E. and the Wizard. I’m not sure he even looked at the Scarecrow. He was saying, “You put it very neatly, Professor. I wish my friend Professor Mobyas Toras were here to hear your formulation of it. If we set alpha equal to zero, it is obvious that ….”
I wandered off then, because when Pop says, “It is obvious that …” what is really obvious is that Deety should leave. Once I pointed out to him that he had filled up five pages proving that zero equals zero. He sulked for days. Since then I’ve avoided his field of mathematics, and he’s not interested in the simple field I’m in … other than to shove calculations at me sometimes and ask me to program them and push them through a computer.
Dinner was in the banquet hall and the crowd of guests exactly filled it … which of course it would because Glinda’s banquet hall is always just the right size for the numbe
r of persons eating there—or there and not eating, as the case may be, for Jack Pumpkinhead, Tik-Tok, the Tin Woodman, the Sawhorse, the Scarecrow, and other people who didn’t eat were seated there, too, and also people who weren’t people people but were animal people; the Cowardly Lion, the Hungry Tiger, the Woozy, the King of the Flying Monkeys, Hank, Toto, and a beautiful long-haired cat with supercilious manners.
Glinda the Good was seated at the head of the table at one end and Queen Ozma of Oz was at the head of the table at the other end. Pop was on Glinda’s right and Zebadiah was on Ozma’s right. The Wizard of Oz was on Glinda’s left, and Professor Wogglebug was on Ozma’s left. Aunt Hilda and I were opposite each other at the middle of the long table. She had the Tin Woodman on one side and the Scarecrow on the other and was doing her best to charm both of them and both were trying to charm her and all three were succeeding.
I had three dinner companions. I had started out with two, the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger. The Lion ate what the others who ate did but the Tiger had a bowl of cornflakes the size of a small washtub and ate from it very daintily with a spoon to match the bowl. The Cowardly Lion and I had just started on our seafood cocktails when this cat brushed against my leg to get my attention, looked up and said, “You smell like a cat person. Make me a lap, I’m coming up”—and jumped.
I asked, “Eureka, do you have Dorothy’s permission?”
“What a silly way to talk. Dorothy has to get my permission. Feed me the lobster first, then the shrimp. You may have the last piece of shrimp for yourself.”
The Hungry Tiger put down his big spoon and said, “Highness, may I abate this Nuisance for you?”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Old Boy,” the Lion said, “I’ll abite it instead, in one bite. But do please pass the tabasco sauce; cats have so little taste.”
“Pay no attention to those peasants, wench, and get on with the lobster. Animals should not be allowed to eat at the table.”
“Look who is calling whom an animal,” growled the Cowardly Lion.
“It’s not an animal, Leo,” the Hungry Tiger objected. “It’s an insect. Highness, I’m a vegetarian, usually—but I would be happy to break over this one and slice it into my cornflakes. Shall I?”
“Dorothy wouldn’t like it, Rajah.”
“You have a point, ma’am. Shall I ask Toto to chase it out?”
“Eureka may stay. I don’t mind.”
“Wench, the correct answer is ‘I am honored.’ Ignore these jungle beasts; they are not cats. Be it known Felis domesticus has been civilized more generations than all you lesser breeds combined. As my serene ancestress, Bubastis, Goddess of the Nile, was wont to say: ‘Where Cat is, is civilization.’ Hurry up with that lobster.”
So I hurried. Eureka accepted each bit daintily, barely flicking my fingertips with her scratchy tongue. At last she averted her mouth. “Don’t overdo it; I’ll tell you when I require more. Scratch behind my left ear—gently. I shall sing, then I shall sleep. Maintain a respectful silence.”
I did as ordered. Eureka purred very loudly. As the buzzing gave way to soft snores I slowly stopped scratching. I had to eat with one hand then, as the other was needed to keep her from falling.
As Aunt Hilda has placed a full record of that evening in Gay by interviewing all of us and combining it, I will stick to parts that mattered. After the rest had gone home or retired to their rooms, we four were invited into the library. It was smaller than it had been, cozy, as Glinda’s girls had gone to their rooms. Glinda was at her Great Book of Records as we were ushered in; she smiled and bowed without getting up as we sat down.
“Friends,” she said, “Doctor, Captain, Princess Hilda, and Deety, I will save time by telling you that, during the dancing, I conferred with Ozma, the Wizard, and Professor Wogglebug. I had already studied the Records of your strange adventures and read a resume to them before we discussed your problems. First, let me say that Ozma repeats her invitation. All of you are welcome to stay here forever; you will find hospitality wherever you go. Deety of course knows this, and Princess Hilda knows it, too, although she is not quite as sure of it as Deety is.
“But to reassure you gentlemen, the Wizard and I have made the Land of Oz one quarter of an inch wider in all directions, a change too small to be noticed. But you, Doctor, as a geometer, will recognize that this provides ample lebensraum for four more good people, as well as for your sky chariot Miss Gay Deceiver. A quarter of an inch, Captain, is six and thirty-five hundredths millimeters.
“While we were about it, on the advice of Professor Wogglebug, we made one small change in Miss Gay Deceiver ….”
Zebadiah gave a start and looked very upset. Of course Gay was his sweetheart long before I was; he took care of her just as carefully as he took care of me. But he should have trusted Glinda.
Glinda smiled warmly at him. “Don’t be alarmed, Captain; no harm has been done to the structural integrity or the functioning of your beloved craft. When you notice it—you will notice it—if you do not like the change, all you need to do is to say aloud, ‘Glinda, change Miss Gay Deceiver back the way she was.’ I will read your wish here in my Book and will carry out your wish. But I do not think that you will ask me to do this. That is not a prophecy; a good witch does not prophesy. But it is my firm opinion.
“Now to major matters— There are no Panki in Oz. Should one ever be so foolish as to come here, I would know it at once from my Book, and it would be ejected into the Deadly Desert. Concerning what would happen to it there, the less said, the better—but evil is not tolerated in Oz.
“As to the problem of Panki in your home world, it does not lie in Ozma’s jurisdiction. My own powers are very limited there. While my Great Book of Records tells me what happens there, it does not distinguish between Panki disguised as human beings and human beings who, by their own nature, are evil. I could cast a spell over all four of you, which would keep you away from them. Do you wish that?”
Pop glanced at Zebadiah; my husband said, “Just a moment, Glinda the Good. I don’t know much about spells. Just what does that mean?”
“Spells are always literal, Captain; that’s why they can cause so much trouble. I rarely use them. This one means what I said: you would be kept away from any Pankera.”
“In that case we couldn’t recognize one, could we? Or get close enough to destroy it.”
“I think you would have to devise a way to do both at a distance. Spells do not reason, Captain. Like computers, they operate literally.”
“Could they recognize us? Booby-trap us? Bomb us?”
“I do not know, Captain. My Book records only what they have done, not what they may do. Even then, as I have said, the Records do not unmask a disguised Pankera. Therefore I know very little about them. Do you wish the spell? You need not decide at once. If you remain in Oz, you won’t need it.”
I blurted out, “We ought to stay here!”
Glinda smiled at me, but it was not a happy smile. “Deer Deety—you have decided not to have your baby?”
“Huh? I mean, ‘Excuse me, Glinda?’ ”
“You have been in Fairyland more than the others. You know that your little girl will not be born here … just as no one ever dies here.”
Aunt Hilda spoke up so quickly I couldn’t get a word in. “Glinda, thank you very much but I will not be staying.”
I gulped. “I won’t be staying either, Aunt Glinda.” I didn’t look at Zebadiah.
“So I strongly suspected. Do you want my advice, dear?”
“Yes. Certainly!”
“Having decided to be a woman and not a little girl like Dorothy or Trot, leave here quickly … lest you be tempted to stay in Fairyland forever.”
Pop glanced at Zebadiah, then said, “Madame Glinda, we’ll be leaving in the morning. We are grateful for your lavish hospitality … but I think that is best.”
“I think so, too, Doctor. But remember: Ozma’s invitation stands. When you are weary of the outside world
, come here for a holiday … and by all means bring your children. Children are happy here and never get hurt. Oz was designed for children.”
“We will, we certainly will!”
“Is there anything more to discuss? If not ….”
“Just a second!” put in Aunt Hilda. “You told Deety—will you tell me?”
Glinda smiled. “My Book states that you are growing a boy.”
XXXIV
Zebadiah
Ididn’t sleep with Deety that night. I didn’t plan it that way; it just happened. A footman showed me to a room; Deety and Hilda were still standing at the top of the stairs (more magical stairs—okay as long as you don’t look down) and talking excitedly, with Jake nearby.
When I saw that the room had only a single bed, not even twin beds, the footman had vanished. When I stepped outside, so had Deety and Hilda and Jake, and the upper hall was dark. So I said a word one mustn’t use in Oz and went back into my assigned room. Even a single bed looked inviting; it had been a long day. I went to sleep at once.
Glinda had breakfast with us, in what seemed to be the banquet hall, considerably shrunken. The food in Helium was wonderful but I had almost forgotten how good ham and eggs and toast and fresh orange juice can be. I drank three cups of coffee and felt ready to wrassle alligators.
Glinda kissed Deety and Hilda goodbye at the top of those Escher steps, and Jake and I bent over her hands. She wished us good luck … which probably counted for more from her. Oz may not be a place to live but it was a wonderful place to visit. Once we entered the woods, the gals took off their shoes.
Gay Deceiver looked good in the morning sunlight. Tik-Tok was standing at her nose. “Good mor-ning,” he said. “I have been con-ver-sing with Miss Gay De-cei-ver all night. She is a ve-ry Smart Girl.”
“Howdy, Zeb.”
“Howdy, Gay. What have I told you about picking up strange men?”
“You’ve told me nothing, Zeb. And Tik-Tok is not a strange man. He is a gentleman, which is more than I can say for some people.”
The Pursuit of the Pankera: A Parallel Novel About Parallel Universes Page 41
