"Go on with the answer."

"Why, isn't it obvious? I came to you for your reputation as the most courageous man among your people. Is a bird ever as brave as a man? No! Can a bird hold a weapon in his hands? No! Will a bird count the grains of sanda""

"I get the idea," Finagle said. "So when the Witch's Monkeys come flying up at me, just like they did for that mousy fellow, you want me to fight them off and then count what's inside the castle wallsa"the soldiers and such."

"Fight them off only long enough to release your ballast and man the hot air pump. Let the balloon rise directly upward until it's beyond the limited flight of these heavy creatures, and then, when you are clear of the castle, release the air from the balloon just as I showed you and float safely back to land, where I will come and meet you. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Finagle said, but it didn't add up with what he'd told that field mouse to doa"what was this Oz fellow up to?

"Drop the ballast and pump the hot air," Oz repeated.

"Hot aira"I've got it. It seems easier than fighting off a few dozen Monkeys."

"I knew you were the man for the job," Oz said. "Never has a recommendation more recommended itself. Nor commended its recommender, who deserves a commendationa"

He blinked and regarded Finagle with a fixed smile and a blank stare.

"Lost your flow of words there?" Finagle asked.

"Not at all," Oz said. "Not at all. I was simply trying to say that you came highly recommended, and with good and self-evident reason."

"Third and final question then," Finagle said, staring hard at the castle, which protected the valley of the Munchkins from the wild creatures beyond. "What have you got against the Witch?"

Oz paused thoughtfully. He pulled a bra.s.s tube from his trouser pocket, held it up to his eye, and stared across the valley to the castle. Finagle was about to repeat his question when the Wizard finally spoke.

"In the land where I come from, we have wonderful inst.i.tutions of learning, where a man can discover all the secrets of the universe, and that's why these inst.i.tutions are called universities," Oz said. "And in these universities, there are wise men called philosophers, who ponder the fundamental questions of life. Being in the business of questions, they employ a tool named for their most distinguished predecessor, a philosopher named Socrates, and this tool is called the Socratic Method, and those who use this tool answer questions with more questions in order to reach a more enlightened perspective."

"What?" Finagle said.

"That's precisely how you do it," Oz said. "So permit me to answer your question about the Witch with a question of my own."

"Go ahead," Finagle said.

"Do you know what sort of man the Witch might be interested in?"

Finagle narrowed his eyes. "Where are you going with this?"

"Yes, by Jug! That's how you do it. Socrates would be so prouda"OWW!"

Oz hopped on one foot, holding his opposite shina"the one that Finagle had just kicked.

"That's for sending me up in a balloon with a bunch of flying Monkeys chasing me," the Munchkin said. "And I want twice what you offered to pay me."

MONKEY BUSINESS.

Wisdom from Omaha: you only have one chance to make a first impression.

Oscar Diggs was not about to waste that chance. He stared at himself in the full-length mirror and admired the work done by the tailors in the Emerald City.

A double-breasted vest in emerald silk with silver b.u.t.tons. A tailcoat in a complementary green, trimmed in black velvet. Fall front trousers in a lovely shade of fawn. He had never looked so good.

To be fair, the effect was marred somewhat by the straps holding the canister of oxygen to his back, and by the bug-like mask, connected to the tank by a breathing tube, that at the present moment hung loose about his neck where a less inventive and more ill-prepared man would tie an ordinary cravat.

He was, he a.s.sured himself, most inventive and well prepared and wholly extraordinary, even without a cravat.

More importantly, he had a plan.

A plan, which, so far, had worked to perfection.

The first part had involved simple helium balloons and an even simpler field mouse. The balloons revealed the direction and speed of the valley's winds while the mouse served up misdirection by relaying his false concerns about soldiers to the Witch.

The second part of the plan employed a hot air balloon, which permitted him to measure the speed and maximum ascent of the Winged Monkeys, who were his real target all along.

Now the third part of his plana"involving a hydrogen balloon, of the type popularly called a zeppelina"was about to be set into motion.

He climbed into the large gondola of the craft, which was moored to the top of the tower that the Emerald Citizens had built for him, and he untied the ropes that held him down.

His heart beat faster as the craft rose majestically into the air.

The Valley of the Witch was long and narrow, split by a gleaming blue ribbon of river, cushioned by thick green orchards on either side, and framed by rugged peaks of bare stone that reached straight up to the sky. At the upper end of the valley, a picturesque castle occupied a bluff overlooking the river.

"The question," Oscar Diggs mused, "is why a witch needs a castle at all. Either she has great wealth, which her army of Winged Monkeys guards for her, or she has great enemies, which her army of Winged Monkeys protects her from. Either way, it's the business with the Monkeys that is key."

His palms grew sweaty as the great airship approached the Witch's castle. He wiped his hands on his trousers and peered through the telescope. The Monkeys were already perched along the battlements and on the rooftops, eyeing his approach.

"The question," Oscar Diggs asked himself, "is, How much is she willing to trade to get the Winged Monkeys back."

Of course the bigger issue was going to be stealing them in the first place. It was too late to double-check his calculations. He had made his plan anda"

Here came the Monkeys!

It was much more terrifying to see in person than it was to watch from the safety of his viewing platform. He pulled his mask over his face, turned on the flow of oxygen, and braced for the impact.

The gondola rocked as the first Monkeys landed on the sides and swarmed aboard. They ran all around the rim and rigging, curiously exploring the craft just as he'd seen them do during the previous tests. Then they began creeping down the rigging toward him, eyeing him warily, ready to pounce.

"Not yet, not yet," he muttered to himself, his hands shaking.

More Monkeys jumped on. Then more and more. The moment they were all aboard, he yanked the rope he had prepared, releasing thousands of pounds of ballast.

Straight up the zeppelin went, fast enough to press them all to the floor of the gondola. In four seconds they reached a height where the air was too thin to support the Monkeys' flight. In eight seconds they reached a height where the air was too thin for them to stay awake. The Monkeys in the rigging lost their grip and tumbled into the gondola at his feet.

Oscar shivered in the cold, but the dazed or entirely unconscious Monkeys were now at his mercy. He moved quickly around the gondola, binding them hand and foot and wing with ropes he had brought specifically for that purpose.

When he was certain that all his prisoners were secure, he changed the course of the zeppelin and reduced his alt.i.tude, bringing it back toward the Witch's castle. All the way he gave thought to the encomium this daring would win him and the epithets that would cling like laurels to his name forever after.

Oz the Wise!

Oz the Wonderful!

Oz the Triumphant!

He moored to the peak of the Witch's highest tower and descended a rope ladder to the castle's courtyard, where the Witch was waiting for him.

She was older than he expected but certainly not much more so than an old maid or two he had courted briefly back in Omaha. She was taller than he was, but some of that was the tall pointed hat she wore. If he could only convince her to ditch the hat and put her hair up in a more practical bun.

"Very bold, coming here," the Witch said to him when his feet touched ground. "Boldaor foolhardy."

"Merely the logical thing to doa" Oscar started. He swallowed hard. Though he considered himself an accomplished pract.i.tioner of the elocutionary arts, this one would require every bit of his skill. He finished, "since I wanted to prove myself worthy of you."

"Worthy?" she said, surprised.

"Worthy!" he said confidently. Witches love confidence. "The man who could capture your Winged Monkeys and return them to you is the man who can outsmart your enemies just as easily. Who better to be your ally than the man who could outsmart youabut didn't?"

"What are you getting at?" she said.

He bowed low to her, and when he raised his head again, he smiled. "You have a kingdom without a king. I could be that man. You have a castle without a lord. I could be that man. You have a heart without a helpmeetaI could be that man."

"Are you suggesting that I need you?"

"I'm suggesting that we need each other. Why, we could be like John Smith and Pocahontas, opening up virgin lands for settlement. We could be like Sacajawea and Lewisa"or possibly Clarka"expanding territories westward. Isn't it manifest? Isn't it destiny?"

She stared at him up and down, and he tried not to pose or preen too much, although he wanted her to notice what a figure he cut. Her glance slipped past his shoulder to the impressive airship moored behind him. A wicked grin played across her lips.

"So is that progress in your pocket," she said, "or are you just happy to see me?"

The conversation went downhill quickly from there.

HIS NEW DIGS.

The two witches shared a cup of tea in the gazebo situated in Locasta's summer garden. Locasta held a cup of tea to her lips and breathed in the minty aroma while her sister from the East retrieved a small hat from her pocket and set it on the table.

"Here's the Golden Cap," she said. "Whoever possesses it can command the Winged Monkeys three times. I've used my three commands, so now I pa.s.s it on to you. You may need them next if he chooses to come after you."

"Thank you," Locasta said. "But I don't think I need to fear him much, not after what you've described."

"He'll fool some with his tricks and bl.u.s.ter, like he has the folks in the Emerald City."

"What else did he say to you, then? After he proposed, I mean. That was a proposal of marriage, wasn't it?"

"Oh yes, it most definitely was." She chuckled and tapped her silver shoes in delight. "So then he told me he thought that together, we could unite all four kingdoms into a single country, which, get this, he wanted to name for himself."

"Oz?" asked Locasta.

"No, that's just it," her sister said, pausing to drop in another cube of sugar. "He suggested that we call it Diggety."

"And that's whena""

"And that's when I pointed up in the air, to show him the Monkeys had chewed through their ropes and were flying away with my new zeppelin. Smoothest heist ever."

EMERALDS TO EMERALDS, DUST TO DUST.

BY SEANAN MCGUIRE.

The pillows were cool when I woke up, but they still smelled of Polychromea"fresh ozone and petrichor, sweeter than a thousand flowers. I swore softly as I got out of bed and crossed to the window, opening the curtains to reveal a sky the sunny f.u.c.k-you color of a Munchkin swaddling cloth. There was no good reason for the sky to be that violently blue this time of yeara"no good reason but Ozma, who was clearly getting her p.i.s.sy b.i.t.c.h on again.

Sometimes I miss the days when all I had to deal with were wicked witches and natural disasters and ravenous beasts who didn't mean anything personal when they devoured you whole. Embittered fairy princesses are a h.e.l.l of a lot more complicated.

I showed the sky my middle finger, just in case Ozma was watchinga"and Ozma's always watchinga"before closing the curtains again. I was up, and my girlfriend was once again banished from the Land of Oz by unseasonably good weather, courtesy of my ex. Time to get ready to face whatever stupidity was going to define my day.

As long as it didn't involve any Ozites, I'd be fine.

The hot water in the shower held out long enough for me to shampoo my hair. That was a rare treat this time of year, and one I could attribute purely to Ozma's maliciousness: lose a girlfriend, get enough sun to fill the batteries on the solar heater. It was a trade I wouldn't have needed to make if I'd had any magic of my own, but magical powers aren't standard issue for little girls from Kansas, and none of the things I've managed to pick up since arriving in Oz are designed for something as basic as boiling water. That would be too easy.

I was toweling off when someone banged on the bathroom doora"never the safest of prospects, since the hinges, like everything else in the apartment, were threatening to give up the ghost at any moment. "Dot! You done in there? We've got trouble!"

"What kind of trouble, Jack?" I kept toweling. My roommate can be a little excitable sometimes. It's a natural side effect of having a giant pumpkin for a head.

"I don't know, but Ozma's here! In person!"

My head snapped up, and I met my own startled eyes in the mirror. The silver kiss the Witch of the North left on my forehead the day I arrived in Oz gleamed dully in the sunlight filtering through the bathroom skylight. "I'll be right there. Just keep her happy while I get dressed."

"I'll try," he said glumly. His footsteps moved away down the hall. My surprise faded into annoyance, and I glared at my reflection for a moment before I turned and headed for the door to my room. Ozmaa"f.u.c.king Ozmaa"in my apartment. She hadn't been to see me in person since the day she told me we couldn't be together anymore, that I had become a "Political liability" thanks to my unavoidable a.s.sociation with the crossovers.

I would always be a Princess of Oz. Nothing could change that, not even the undying will of Her Fairy Highness. But I was no longer beloved of the Empress, and if I wanted to see her, I had to come to the Palace like everybody else. So what the h.e.l.l could have brought her to the crossover slums at all, let alone to my door?

I wrenched drawers open and grabbed for clothing, only vaguely aware that I was dressing myself for battle: khaki pants, combat boots, and a white tank topa"none of which would have been anything special outside of Oz. Here the tank top was a statement of who and what I was, and why I would be listened to even if I were a crossover and not a natural-born citizen. Only one type of person is allowed to wear white in the Land of Oz; it's the color of witches, and I, Dorothy Gale, Princess of Oz, exile from Kansas, am the Wicked Witch of the West.

Putting in my earrings took a little more care. I would have skipped it if Ozma had sent a representative instead of coming herself, but it was the very fact of her presence that both made me hurry and take my time. Ozma needed to see that I was taking her seriously. So in they went until my ears were a chiming line of dangling silver charms: slippers and umbrellas and field mice and crows. I checked my hair quickly, swiping a finger's-worth of gel through it with one hand. The tips were dyed blue, purple, red, and greena"four of the five colors of Oz. I'm a natural blonde. I didn't need dye to display the colors of the Winkie Country.

Clapping the diamond bracelet that represented the favor of the Winkies around my left wrist, I gave myself one last look in the mirror and left the room. I could hear voices drifting through the thin curtain that separated the apartment's narrow back hallway from the main room: Jack, a high tenor, almost genderless and perpetually a little bit confused; a low tenor that had to belong to one of Ozma's guards; and Ozma herself, a sweet, piping soprano that I used to find alluring back when it whispered endearments instead of excuses. I stopped at the curtain, taking a breath to bolster myself, and then swept it aside.

"I'm flattered, Ozma," I said. "I didn't know you remembered where I lived."

The main room served as both our living s.p.a.ce and the reception area for my duties as the Crossover Amba.s.sador. It was shabby, as befitted both those roles. Ozma stood out against the mended draperies and twice-repaired furniture like an emerald in gravel.

Her back was to me, facing Jack and a guardsman in royal livery. If we could have conducted the entire meeting that way, I would have been thrilled. Sadly it was not to be. Her shoulders tensed, and then the Undying Empress, Princess Ozma, turned to face me.

She was beautiful. I had to give her that, even if I never wanted to give her anything again. Her hair was as black as the midnight sky, and like the midnight sky, it was spangled with countless shining stars, diamonds woven into every curl. Red poppies were tucked behind her ears, their poisonous pollen sacs carefully clipped by the royal florists. It all served to frame a face that couldn't have been more perfect, from her red cupid's-bow mouth to her pale brown eyes, the same shade as the sands of the Deadly Desert. Her floor-length green silk dress was more simply cut than her court gowns; I recognized it from garden walks and picnics back in the days when I was in favor. She wore it to throw me off balance. I knew that; I rejected itaand it was working all the same.

"I granted you this s.p.a.ce," she said sweetly. "Of course I remember. How are you, my dear Dorothy?"