Zosozo in Oz Page 2

  “I’m sorry, he has hardly any manners. And those he does have, he refuses to use.” I felt like I should apologize for so much more, but for now, that would have to do. I dropped Mrow unceremoniously on the bed and turned back to the giant, but she just grunted and refused to meet my eyes, so I left her alone and went back into the bedroom.

  I changed into one of my fancier dresses and combed the grit out of my hair before pulling out the diadem that Ozma had insisted I bring with me and wear every time I was acting as her official representative. She had plopped it on my head one afternoon a couple weeks ago and then squealed, “Oh, now you look just like a real princess!” and had clapped her hands in glee. I had smiled awkwardly and said I couldn’t accept such an expensive present, but she had insisted. So I stuck it at the back of my closet and it stayed there except for times such as this where Ozma hinted that this would be “such a good occasion to wear it.”

  At least it was small; it was a circlet with a heart-shaped setting that rose high on the front. I sighed and wound my hair up around it like Clack-tick had taught me, then went to sit on the bed next to Mrow, who was still indignantly washing himself down after his manhandling. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad, I just didn’t want you to get stepped on. I don’t think giants have a lot of patience. I certainly wouldn’t, in their place.”

  Mrow gave his hind leg one more violent lick before settling down on the coverlet and giving me the stinkeye. “Are you going to lecture me about behaving while you go talk to the Earthers?”

  I looked airily around the room. “Am I that predictable?”

  “Yes.” Mrow narrowed his eyes at me. I wasn’t the kind of person who usually answered a question with a question, so I had his full attention.

  I smiled and tapped the side of my nose, the signal we had decided on a few weeks ago that told him to ignore whatever it was I was telling him. “You are absolutely not to go poking your nose in any hidey-holes or hidden cubbies, or bother the poor giant who is stuck in the bathroom, or make a nuisance of yourself in the kitchens.”

  He winked, and when a cat winks, you know they’re about to commit mischief. “Check and roger. Keep to myself, don’t go asking questions. You’re such a stick in the mud. Why do you think I can’t keep to myself?”

  I shrugged, frowning; something felt off about the whole place. Maybe it was the giants chained up everywhere. I had never liked the idea of slavery, and the extent to which slavery permeated the Ozite culture in different forms disturbed me. All I knew was that something here smelled fishy, and who better to set on a fish than a cat? “Just do your best.” I ruffled his ears and stood up from the bed.

  I gave myself one last glance in the mirror before venturing into the hall and down towards the anteroom the Czarover had indicated would be Shaggy Man’s and my private office for our stay. My companion was already there, speaking quietly with a guard in the corner. It was one of the gaunt Herkuans, probably only because a giant wouldn’t have fit in the room.

  “There she is!” Shaggy Man came over to embrace me, lightly, so as not to muss my careful preparations. He then turned and offered me his arm to escort me into the courtroom. The guard bowed and opened the door, and we stepped out into my first significant appearance as ambassador to my people.

  The room was overly crowded. As we came in, everyone rose to their feet, bowing ridiculously low, and I looked them over as we headed to the table on the dais at the front of the room. It was nice, being able to study them before they could see me do so. There was quite a mix of people in the room: at the front were affluent Herkuans, gaunt and bedecked with jewels, and a few Earthers who seemed to be doing well enough for themselves. Behind them was a smattering of Earthers who were more threadbare than their neighbors, though they had obviously made an effort to look their best for this event.

  As Shaggy Man and I settled into the chairs set aside for us, a herald stepped forward and bade everyone take their seats. Apparently, lots had been drawn for the order in which people would speak, and people were clutching their tickets possessively. The number one ticket holder was an older Earthen man who was wearing a mix of yellow-hued Ozite fashion along with parts of an old Earth pinstripe suit.

  Eager as he was, I held my hand up before he could begin his petition and the room instantly went quiet. I pursed my lips together to keep from cracking into a nervous grin. Part of me wanted to try playing the crowd like an orchestra, but I knew Ozma would disapprove. A princess should act like a princess, gosh darn it. So I let my hand fall and cleared my throat before I started talking. It took a couple tries and I tucked my hands in the folds of my skirts to hide their shaking.

  “Hi, hello, I bring greetings from Ozma in the Emerald City, and she hopes that I find you all most well. However, she knows that things are not great in the Earthen settlements, which is why she has sent me to hear your grievances and problems. As many of you know by now, I am an Earther who has been here for a very long time, and my family has quite the history of traveling back and forth across the veil. My great-great-grandmother crossed not once, but three times until she traveled back to Earth for the final time. I want to assure you, I am just as Earth-proud as any of you, and I will do whatever I can to make your life here in Oz more comfortable.”

  I sat back as an uncertain applause traveled around the room. It certainly wasn’t a great speech, but I had felt the need to say something. Earthers had been acting weird around me ever since the news of my heritage and be-princessing had gotten out, whereas Ozites were almost worshipful. It was an unnerving change and I didn’t like it. I thought I might be able to cut off any anti-Gale sentiment by demonstrating my loyalty to my Earthen brethren...I hoped.

  The man who was standing and waiting to speak frowned, but stepped forward without hesitation. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind him and frowned deeper, which did interesting things to his mustache. I glanced sideways at Shaggy Man and saw him suppress a smile at the pretension oozing off the gentleman.

  “I am Julian Drumpf, late of Earth, and I wanted to know what was being done to return us to Earth now that the false threat of global warming has been eradicated. I have property and business there I would appreciate getting back to in a timely manner.”

  I sighed, figuring this would probably be the first question I got anywhere I went. “The doctor is still recovering from his grievous injuries, but has already expressed the desire to repair his machine as quickly as possible. As soon as he is able to get back to work, he and Ozma plan on working out a strategy to create a travel-storm without the magical artifact that was broken during the malfunction that caused Elphred’s death.” I paused to take a breath, and the man jumped in.

  “Yes, but is there a timetable? I want to start getting plans in place on this side of the veil for a planned partnership...”

  I held up my hand to interrupt the man. “We do not know yet if it’s even going to be possible to return us to Earth, let alone when. I assure you, though, as soon as I have the information, you will have it. I highly doubt that there will be much opportunity for trade or anything else between the two worlds as you, and all of us, are aware of the effect the travel storms were having on Earth.”

  The man opened his mouth to protest, but I gestured for the herald to call the next petitioner. The man was a blowhard and I didn’t have patience for him. I was here to make sure my fellow Earthers had what they needed to survive and thrive, not to ensure some businessman had what he needed to fleece people.

  The next person up was a young woman with a boy hiding behind her patched skirts. She was having trouble finding certain food items at a reasonable price and I promised to look into subsidies for her. I also took down her name and address in order to send her a basket of whatever I could get from the kitchen at the palace. Her little boy was entirely too thin, as was she.

  The afternoon continued on in this manner, with complaints about the quantity and quality of sanitation, how far they had to walk to get to p
otable water, and other mundane but necessary concerns, until the orderly parade of Earthers was interrupted by the main door to the courtroom slamming open. A disheveled woman towed a young man behind her into the room. He was gaunt, almost emaciated, and totally uninterested in his surroundings. He just sort of smiled off to the side as though watching puppies cavorting.

  Guards were closing in fast on the woman and the boy, so she talked quickly, her voice desperate but even. “Your Highness, please, you have to see, my son, they got him hooked on the Zos, and now look at him! He used to work, people used to listen to him, he was organizing the camps. Now look at him! They’re killing our people with that poison!” The guards bodily lifted her up, as though she were about as heavy as a down pillow (which she might as well have been to the Zosozo-imbued Herkuans.)

  The door boomed shut behind the woman’s shrieks and pleas for me to listen, but I had been too stunned to even begin to react. The whole episode had taken less than fifteen seconds from start to finish and I turned to the herald to demand that they be brought back, but he was already shrugging, a sad look on his face.

  “Some of the Earthers, the ones who had problems from before, they took the Zosozo at the last dosing season, and their families blame us for their choices. If a person drinks too much Lacasa nectar, do we blame the people who surround them? Or do we pity the person for their lack of self-control?” He shrugged again and spread his hands, asking what could be done. I started to say something, but Shaggy Man stepped on my foot under the table and when I glanced at him, he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Now was not the time to make a fuss about the situation, but you could be sure I was going to demand a tour of the encampment tomorrow, to see for myself whether the woman was speaking any truth.

  I gestured for the herald to call the next petitioner, this one a portly woman in gingham who asked whether requests could be put in for a particular dieting pill popular on Earth. And the requests just got more ridiculous from there. The sun had started to set before the herald banged his staff one last time on the floor and decreed that anyone who hadn’t been seen today should return tomorrow. I was exhausted, and I could tell Shaggy Man was as well. We made our way back into the anteroom and stretched a bit to work the kinks out.

  “Well, that was certainly educational.” Shaggy Man bent over to touch his toes before standing and pulling an apple out of a pocket somewhere in his jacket. He slumped down onto the floor and bit into it, munching happily.

  “Mm-hm.” I leaned back, my hands on the small of my back and studied the ornate ceiling. “Hey, Shaggy Man, did they all seem...” I hesitated as my companion raised a hand and discreetly tapped his ear, then rubbed his nose. I changed what I was going to say. “...tired?” I had been going to say overly rehearsed, but it seemed that Shaggy Man had picked up on that feeling as well, especially with the abrupt dismissal of the day’s interruption. He at least was awake enough not to discuss the possible political ramifications while in the same room as a Herkuan. “I guess, living in Emerald City with Auntie Gertrude like I did, I had no idea just how hard it was for some of my fellow Earthers over here.”

  “Not everyone has found such a lucrative niche as your Aunt, that is certain.” Shaggy Man finished the apple off in one enormous bite, leaving only the stem behind. That he tucked back away into his pocket. “I believe we are now required for a state dinner with the Czarover.”

  I sighed and looked down at my dress, wishing I could change into something simpler, but knew I shouldn’t. “Lead on, Sir Knight, and let us slay the political beast this evening and then retire at the earliest opportunity.”

  Shaggy Man laughed and took my arm. “As you wish, my lady.”

  Dinner was just as tiresome as I expected it to be. A steady stream of Herkuan courtiers came by my seat, begging for just a moment of my attention. One moment turned into two, which turned into twenty, and I barely had time to eat. I at least took the opportunity to flag down one of the servers and ask that they send some of the delightful tuna dish was sent back to my room for Mrow. Hopefully he would consider it proper compensation for his intelligence-gathering efforts, or a reminder to get started on them if he hadn’t.

  I tried to make dinner worthwhile by digging for information, cautiously. Most of the conversations went the same way:

  My opening gambit varied along the lines of, “The hearings today were very interesting. What do you see as the largest problem facing the Earther population?”

  To which they universally responded with, “They just aren’t motivated to integrate themselves into Herkuan society. Sure, they like the Zos well enough, but do they contribute? Do they better themselves? Of course not. They’d rather lay about in a stupor all year while we cater to their every need.”

  And when I inquired, “How did they get their hands on Zos in the first place?”

  All but one drunken courtier replied, “Well, they must have stolen it. That’s what Earthers do, you know,” conveniently forgetting that the honorary princess they were speaking to was an Earther herself.

  However, there was one elderly lady who crowded in close, her Zos-thin body feather-light as she leaned on my arm in a semblance of infirmity. “I once heard my nephew talking with a minister, and a smarmy-looking Earther. They were discussing distribution schedules and pricing of Zos in the Earther camps, and how this way they would need to provide a lot less food and sanitation services to the refugees. But you didn’t hear that from me. You understand?”

  I met her sharp eyes and saw the laugh lines around them pinched in concern. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t catch that last part. The music in here is so loud, did you say that the Earther refugees are thieves or bandits?”

  The creases on her face relaxed a bit and she groused, loud enough for our neighbors to hear, “Well, they’re both, aren’t they? What difference does it make what I said?”

  “Quite a bit, I think. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

  “You are most welcome, young lady. It’s high time something was done to get those ruffians off our land.” She nodded briskly to me and then worked her way onto the dance floor.

  The rest of the conversations I had that night followed the original pattern and I had learned nothing else noteworthy by the time the Czarover finally decided it was time to call it a night. Shaggy Man and I fairly staggered back to our hallway where he gallantly opened my door and I giggled and stumbled through before stopping short. Mrow was sitting at the table, next to the giantess, who was delicately eating a leg of turkey that seemed to have been stolen from the revelry we had just left. On the table was a jug of Lacasa and two cups.

  “We need to talk.” Mrow’s tone was mild, but his tail lashed angrily. I looked at the giantess’s undone shackles on the floor by the bathroom door and raised an eyebrow at my cat. He shrugged, looking as innocent as a cat could. From long experience, I knew this meant we were never going to get him to tell us how he’d gotten her free. Or where he’d gotten the food. Even if I somehow did strong-arm him into talking, I was pretty sure the answer was unsanitary.

  Shaggy Man and I sat at the table and he poured us each a glass of the nectar drink, which went a long way towards waking us up and getting rid of the torpor induced by the long day and excellent food. Once Mrow was convinced we were sufficiently awake and the giantess had consumed two more turkey legs, he got up and started pacing along the table.

  “First off, they only had two measly bugs on the room, a fly and a cockroach. Naturally, I ate them.” I snorted at Mrow’s cavalier attitude, but I was glad he’d gotten rid of the creatures that had been posted to listen in. I was sorry they’d become a meal, but odds were they’d come out fine in the end, what with the lack of death in this country. “And introductions are in order. This lovely large lady is Ms. Gop. Distantly related to the Yops of lore. She assures me she does not share their appetite for human flesh. She prefers fish, but she’ll take bird in a pinch. I think that’s called a pesky-tarian,
but I may be misremembering. Regardless, she has been a font of information, once I had released her from her restraints of course. Tit for tat and all that.”

  Shaggy Man opened his mouth for what I was sure was going to be a crude joke, but I stomped on his foot. He grinned at me and instead asked Mrow, “I take it not everything here is as it seems?”

  “Not hardly.” His tail lashed again, hard. “The Zosozo, that drug that makes the Herkuans so strong? First off, they’ve been selling it to the human population where it has a rather more soporific effect. Keeps them quiet and out of the way, so Ms. Gop tells me, and provides quite the revenue stream for the Czarover.”

  “I can confirm that with what I heard tonight. It also makes it cheaper for the Herkuans to host the refugees. It’s absolutely deplorable.”

  “Yeah, but here’s the kicker; do you know how they make the stuff?”

  I frowned. “I assumed it was magic in origin.” Shaggy Man nodded in agreement.

  “Yes, magic, but magic distilled from the blood of giants, hence the increase in strength when taken by one of the residents of Oz.” He let out a hiss of displeasure, his tail twitching hard enough to threaten the glasses on the table.

  I leaned forward to rescue my glass. “Wait, why doesn’t it work the same on Earthers?”

  Ms. Gop put down the bone she had been gnawing on. “Earthers have no magic. Ozers have magic in their blood, reacts with magic in blood of giants. Earthers just get sleepy and happy ’cause they not used to magic in their body. They take our blood once a year, to make next year’s dose. Takes long time to take magic from our blood and it doesn’t stay fresh once it’s out. Need take soon.”

  Shaggy Man started nodding halfway through Ms. Gop’s small speech. “That all makes sense. The people of Oz were created with this land. They are of fairy magic, even if they are not themselves fairy, so their metabolism would react very differently to a magic-based drug. I am troubled by the thought of it being used as a substance of control among the Earthers, however.”