Chapter Eleven:

 

"Who rang that bell?" asked a doorkeeper who appeared to be the identical twin of the older of the two gatekeepers they had met at the city gate.  "Can't you people read?"

Barney asked "Read WHAT?" just as Dorothy was eyeing the Scarecrow and muttering "Oh, God, not again!"

"What's up with all the gatekeepers around here?" Margot wanted to know.  "Do they all have to go to obnoxious school before they get their diplomas or something?"

"The sign, the sign!" the doorkeeper was saying testily. "The sign clearly states 'Bell out of order, please knock'.  Can't you idiots read the sign?"

"What sign?" Barney asked patiently, while Margot and Dorothy observed the Scarecrow carefully for any indicators of incipient meltdown.

"Well, THAT sign, of course . . ." the doorman replied to Barney, looking very much like a turtle as he craned his neck around the porthole in the door he'd poked his head through in response to their ring. He craned a bit more, determined that there actually was no sign, and turned red.

"Well, there WAS a sign! One of you swiped it, didn't you??"

The Scarecrow began to glide toward the door, a rather fixed smile on his face.

"I tell you, Dorothy," Margot said, rolling her eyes. "I've just about had it with these self-important doorkeepers. Screw it. This time I'm not gonna stop him!"

The doorkeeper stared at them all for a moment, as though he thought he could shame them into confessing to the odious crime of sign-stealing by sheer force of will. Then he glanced down at something on his side of the door, and flushed anew. His head popped back inside the porthole, then he reemerged with a sign, and without a word reached out through the porthole to post it on the door.

A tactical error. The Scarecrow struck at this moment, grabbing the doorkeeper by both ears and jerking his head up as he leaned in to stare into the man's eyes.

"Good evening," the Scarecrow said. "I'm wondering if you wouldn't mind assisting me with an experiment? Do you think I could pull you right through this porthole? If I tugged VERY hard? Do you think you'd fit? Or would your ears just come off first? Shall we give it a try?"

"Uh - um - no - no, let's don't, please," squeaked the doorkeeper.

"No? A pity, because I really am very curious about it. Would you care to open this door for us instead?"

The doorkeeper tried to nod his head in the affirmative, found that he was unable to do so while in the Scarecrow's wiry grip, and so quavered "Um . . . yes, please, let's do that instead."

"Can you reach the latch like this? From where you are? Don't lie or I'll know."

The doorman tried very hard to reach the latch. Things being what they were, he did not wish to disappoint the Scarecrow in any way. By twisting his shoulders, scrabbling with his feet, and stretching the arm that was on the inside of the door to its outermost limit, he was at last able to disengage the latch and swing the door inward an inch or two.

Margot and Barney quickly put their weight on the door and opened it fully, Dorothy and Toto followed just behind, with the doorman and the Scarecrow mincing along in tandem, on either side of the door.

Not until they were all safely on the inside of the great doors did the Scarecrow release the doorman's ears. Whereupon the doorman collapsed in a demoralized but essentially unharmed heap on the highly polished green floor.

"One sometimes has to find the proper . . . tone . . . when dealing with the help," the Scarecrow remarked. "It's often just a matter of offering the right alternatives."

Thank God he's on our side, Dorothy thought, not for the first time.

Dorothy decided that Toto should stay outside for this occasion, so they left the quaking doorman in charge of the small lamb. He was instructed, on pain of extreme and savage punishment, to watch Toto at all times, to pet Toto occasionally, and to take him out to crop and relieve himself at least once during their absence.

The doorman, who would, in times to come, dine out on his recounting of this encounter with the notorious Scarecrow for weeks, and would also legally change his given name to "Lucky", agreed to these terms eagerly.

And so, satisfied, with Toto's arrangements, the four of them began to walk down a long corridor that stretched far out ahead.

The corridor was wide, a succession of groined Gothic vaults paneled in translucent green marble. The length might have stretched out to forever; certainly it stretched as far as any of them could see. They continued to walk.

"The architect who designed this building ought to be hunted down and summarily executed for criminal overstatement," the Scarecrow complained. "I've seen more artistic restraint in some bordellos."

"I've seen smaller aircraft hangars," Dorothy added. None of her companions had ever actually seen an aircraft hangar, since aircraft were unknown in Oz, if one didn't count flying pigs, winged monkeys, enchanted broomsticks and ensorcelled hospital beds. But they could all glean her meaning from the context easily enough.

"It's probably supposed to be intimidating," Barney the Squeamish Lion said with a sick smile that barely revealed his fangs. "And, hey, guess what? It IS.  Maybe I'll wait for you guys outside, okay? Don't forget to mention my license."

Margot took Barney's forepaw and gave it a comforting squeeze just before he could turn around and leave.

"It's just a HALL, Barney. Don't be a scardey-cat. Here, here's your tail. Hang on to it for a minute, will you? You keep switching me with it."

They all walked on for what seemed like miles, their steps clattering in the awful acoustics of the echoing, barren structure, their complexions turned to various deathly shades in the unrelieved green light.

"This Wizard of yours doesn't seem too keen on visitors," Dorothy said. "Look at this hall. Damn well better pack a lunch!"

"Oh, he's not," Margot answered. "He's almost a recluse. Hardly anybody's ever even seen him. Well . . . not mere mortals, that is. Look, are those doors I see at the end of the hall? Way down there?"

"I've seen him." The Scarecrow said, so quietly that the others didn't hear him. He did not trouble to repeat himself.

"I heard he was twenty feet tall and completely hairless," Barney commented. "And green all over. That's what I heard. Maybe we should have made an appointment or something."

"Hmm. Something like a giant pickle, do you mean, Barney?" The Scarecrow asked, with an amused smile. They all had to snicker at the mental image his remark suggested, even Barney.

The moment of levity broke the tension that had been building quite effectively, and they moved forward toward the great double doors that were now clearly visible at the head of the long corridor with a renewed sense of purpose.

A sense of purpose that was soon demolished for most of them by a colossal, awe inspiring, and rather unfriendly voice that spoke an imperative command.

"COME FORWARD!!!"

If an iceberg could be given a tongue and somehow persuaded to speak, it might have sounded something like this voice.

"Ah, our good fortune," commented the Scarecrow, apparently undaunted. "You see? He's in. No appointment necessary."

The others watched as he cheerfully strode forward to the vast doors and rapped firmly upon them.

"Hello? Oz? Is that you shouting in there?"

Barney the Squeamish Lion positively cringed at this insane display of insouciance.

"Well . . . ummm . . . I guess he's not scared," Dorothy pointed out through chattering teeth. She forced her feet to move forward several paces.

"HE'S a fucking lunatic, Dorothy!" Margot argued. "Or hadn't you noticed?"

"COME FORWARD," the Wizard commanded. "ALL OF YOU WILL ENTER NOW!"

All further debate was cut short. Dorothy and Margot caught hold of Barney's forepaws and dragged him forward, since he seemed temporarily rooted to the floor. Once they'd caught up to the Scarecrow, he swung the door inward for them and courteously stepped aside to let the ladies enter first. The bland smile on his face would not have borne close examination.

"Har-de-har-har," Margot hissed at him at him as she gathered herself and stepped, first, through the doors.

The others followed closely, and the Scarecrow brought up the rear, being obliged to push the paralyzed Barney ahead of him through the door, as one would push a sofa or other piece of furniture.

The chamber before them was immense and clearly designed to stun. More groined arches vaulted upward to the vanishing point of vision above. A sea of polished green marble flooring led to a wide raised dais, three broad steps above the floor level where they stood.

On either side of the second step, knurled jade urns held arcane supernatural flames which blazed upward in rhythmic intervals that suggested the beating of a vast, unguessable heart and the great exhalations of some divine breath. Swirls of bright yellow mist eddied about the steps and swirled above the dais like tendrils of transcendent thought magically made visible.

And Oz, the Great and Powerful himself, regarded them with godlike disdain from the apex of the dais.

He appeared to be a being composed entirely of force of mind, largely incorporeal. Only a great, semi-transparent, noble head, wreathed in yellow mist, hairless (as Barney had predicted), floating in the ether above the dais, surveying with his great deep eyes the four petitioners below him as a blue whale might survey a particularly disreputable mess of plankton.

"COME FORWARD," Oz commanded, once again. They could each feel the vibration of his awesome voice through the soles of their feet on the floor. Margot and Barney got the first wave, and then Dorothy, and finally the Scarecrow, lurking in the back of the group

The Scarecrow touched Dorothy's shoulder from behind and whispered to her. "You first, Dorothy. Indulge me, I'm curious about something. Introduce yourself. Understand? Introduce yourself. Don't let him frighten you."

"Too late for that," she whispered back. "I'm already scared out of my mind."

"Then any further intimidation has already been rendered meaningless to you," he countered, and squeezed her shoulder for encouragement. "It's an advantage. Use it."

She checked the emotional weather in his dark eyes, saw some partial knowledge or plan there, and also saw his absolute confidence in her ability to master her fear. Her own confidence in the matter was not so unquestioned, but she found she could borrow what she needed to make up the shortfall from him. She stepped forward, past her companions, to face the Wizard alone.

She gazed into the great, floating, mist enshrouded face.

Really, he doesn't look ANYTHING like a giant pickle, was her initial thought.

And somehow, the sheer silliness of this idea dissolved most of her terror, and she was then able to declare herself and her intentions without dread or diffidence.

"I'm Special Agent Dorothy Gale of Effbeeye," she announced in a clear, ringing voice. "Glinda told me you might know how to -”

"SILENCE, DOROTHY GALE OF THE FBI. GLINDA DOES NOT RULE HERE! OZ KNOWS ALL. YOU WISH TO RETURN TO YOUR HOME, AND YOU BEG MY AUGUST AID IN THIS MATTER. YOU WILL -”

"I'm not BEGGING for anything," Dorothy corrected, offended by the Wizard's haughty choice of words. It was the first time in recorded history that anyone had dared to interrupt Oz in mid-pronouncement. "I was told that you were -”

"SSSSSIIILLLEEENNNCCCEEEEE!!!!" Oz thundered.

The sound of his voice shook the marble walls, undulated in waves through the floor, rattled teeth in skulls, caused the Lion to shriek in agony and cover his sensitive feline ears with his paws, and literally bulldozed Dorothy a good three paces backward. She was reminded of a Led Zeppelin concert she'd attended in her youth, when her boyfriend had scored seats far too near the bandstand and the amps, and "Stairway to Heaven" had become something more like the prelude to Hell.

"DO NOT ANGER OZ THE GREAT AND POWERFUL, DOROTHY GALE, WITH YOUR IMPERTINENCE, OR YOU WILL REGRET IT A THOUSAND YEARS. AND YOU, MARGOT, TIN WOMAN, STEP FORWARD!"

"No fucking way," Margot said flatly, and took two clanking steps back. "This kind of crap, I do not need! If I want to be treated like dirt, I've got my brother."

Before Oz could take Margot to task for HER impertinence, the Lion simply fainted dead away ere it would be his turn on the hot seat, and the Scarecrow stepped forward uninvited.

"Good evening, Oz," he said mildly. "Still a bit deficient in people skills, I see. How are you, other than that?"

"SCARECROW?! HOW DARE YOU APPEAR BEFORE ME?" Oz demanded, clearly much angrier than he had yet been. "YOU DERANGED, DEPRAVED, DETESTABLE COLLECTION OF DEMONIC DISTRESS! HAVEN'T I FORBADE IT? WHO LET YOU OUT OF THE CORNFIELD???"

"Well, actually, Mr. Wizard," Dorothy said, in a cold, hard voice. "That would be me. Where I come from, crucifixion for life is considered cruel and unusual punishment."

For the very first time since her arrival in Oz, she found she was happy to answer this oft repeated question.

"Still hopelessly addicted to alliteration too, I notice," the Scarecrow added. "I really think you should look into that. It's often a sign of underlying psychic disintegration - possibly incipient obsessive-compulsive disorder. Do you ever feel compelled to wash your hands over and over again, Oz? Or to -”

"BE QUIET!!" Oz interrupted, furious. "SHUT THAT TOXIC TRASHHEAP TRAP OF YOURS, CAN'T YOU?"

"You see?" The Scarecrow commented to Dorothy, with an incredibly annoying vindicated smile.

 "WHY, YOU INSUFFERABLE, INVIDIOUS -”

"Oh, really, Oz, are you going to just float about up there and call me names all night?" the Scarecrow interrupted.  "There are some things we really ought to discuss. The Wicked Witch, for example, just publicly threatened a guest in your city without so much as a by-your-leave, not ten city blocks from your front door. And provided a terrible example of poor spelling to schoolchildren everywhere, in the process, I might add.  Even if you don't care about education, you must, at least, have noticed that this is the 'Dorothy' the Witch referred to."

"I KNOW THAT!" Oz declared irritably. "OZ THE GREAT AND POWERFUL IS ALL-KNOWING AND ALL-SEEING!"

"Really? That must be convenient," the Scarecrow said, and paused for an insultingly long moment. Then he went on. "Special Agent Dorothy Gale, in fact. From . . . where was it now? From . . . the FBI, I believe you said, didn't you, Oz?" 

"WHAT ABOUT THE WITCH, SCARECROW? DO NOT TAX MY PATIENCE WITH INSIGNIFICANT DETAILS."

"What about Ms. Gale's requests?" the Scarecrow retorted. "Or the Tin Woman's and the Lion's, for that matter? You haven't even heard them yet, you've been so busy stringing adjectives together and trying to frighten everyone."

"OZ IS OMNISCIENT, I TELL YOU! NO MATTER WHAT YOU MAY THINK! MS. GALE WANTS TO GO HOME, MARGOT WANTS ACCESS TO AFFORDABLE FERTILITY SERVICES, THE LION WANTS HIS LPN LICENSE, AND YOU . . . YOU THINK YOU MIGHT GAIN SOME PASSING ACQUAINTANCE WITH SANITY IF YOUR HEAD WASN'T STUFFED FULL OF VILE TRASH."

"A succinct summation," the Scarecrow allowed.

"Are you always this nasty to people who come to you for help?" Dorothy asked angrily. "The hell with this. Let's just GO! Who needs this guy?"

"ENOUGH!" the Wizard replied. "BY THE EFFULGENT FLAME OF THOTH, YOU'RE ALMOST AS MOUTHY AS HE IS! NO WONDER YOU LET HIM OUT OF THAT CORNFIELD. YOU PROBABLY NEEDED SOMEONE WHO COULD STAND TO TALK TO YOU!"

"That's it!" Dorothy cried, infuriated. "I'm outta here!"

"THE WIZARD HAS EVERY INTENTION OF GRANTING YOUR PITIFUL REQUESTS," Oz quickly added, before Dorothy could finish stomping to the door. "YOU NEED ONLY PERFORM ONE SMALL SERVICE TO PROVE YOUR WORTHINESS."

Dorothy turned around and Margot, a bit of faint hope on her tin features, stepped a pace or two forward.

"WHAT 'small service' would that be?" Dorothy asked suspiciously.

"BRING ME THE HOSPITAL BED OF THE WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST."

"Oh, for God's sake, we'd have to kill him to -”

"IT IS A MERE TOKEN, MS. GALE. PERHAPS YOU AND YOUR STRAW SWEETHEART HERE COULD TALK THE WITCH TO DEATH! HE HAS MY PERMISSION TO GO WITH YOU INSTEAD OF BACK TO THE CORNFIELD. YOU MIGHT HAVE SOME USE FOR A HOMICIDAL MANIAC WHERE YOU'RE GOING!"

"Goddamnit -” Dorothy began.

"OZ THE GREAT AND POWERFUL HAS SPOKEN!!! BEGONE! AND COLLECT THAT MANGY LION BEFORE YOU LEAVE, HE'S SHEDDING ON MY FLOOR!"

Barney the Squeamish Lion had remained unconscious throughout the entire interview, and was still lost to the world, lying in a limp heap like a golden throw rug at the door.

"But - what if -” Margot tried to interject.

"NO MORE! OUT! BEFORE I DECIDE TO BE LESS CLEMENT."

"Gosh," Dorothy said acidly. "You mean you won't be NICE to us anymore?"

"GGGEEETTTT  OOOUUUTTTT!!!!!" Oz boomed, causing the entire chamber to shimmy and shake like so much emerald green Jell-O.

The three of them could see that further arguments must prove unproductive, and the unconscious Lion had no comment to offer. Dorothy took one of the comatose cat's back legs, Margot grabbed his tail, the Scarecrow grasped the other rear paw, and they slid their fallen friend across the highly polished floor as a child would pull a wagon.

They were out the chamber door, down the long hall, had collected Toto from the doorman, and were tugging to haul him over the outer threshold before he finally began to stir.

"What happened?" he asked in a faint voice. "The Wizard was yelling at us, and . . . and, that's all I remember. Boy, he's not at all what I expected. Sort of unpleasant. Did you guys talk him into doing anything for us?"

They all stared at him uncomfortably.

"Huh? Did you?"

Finally, Margot decided that someone would have to answer him, before he began to get paranoid about it. God knew, he'd have plenty to worry about soon enough. And she could see that neither the Scarecrow nor Dorothy had a whole hell of a lot to say for themselves. For once.

"Oh, Dorothy and the Scarecrow did a GREAT job of sweet-talking him, Barney! Seriously, have you guys ever thought about going into the hostage negotiation business? Or maybe the diplomatic corps? He really liked you guys, I could tell."

"Margot . . .” Dorothy said, helplessly.

"Just wait till you hear the deal they made, Barney! Talk about win/win! You'll LOVE it!"

The Scarecrow finally thought of something constructive to say.

"But Margot can tell you all about it over dinner, Barney, how would that be? You were looking forward to a decent meal, weren't you?"

"More like a last supper!" Margot snorted, and Dorothy surreptitiously kicked her tin shin with a meaningful glance at the Lion.

Even Margot had to concede that the five of them really had nothing better to do, for the moment, than to go get the meal they'd postponed earlier, and maybe have a stiff drink or two.

Or twenty, Margot mentally added. It was early in the evening yet. Plenty of time to get thoroughly hammered before the night was done.

The morning, and the beginning of their new and dubious journey with it, would arrive all too soon.