I looked up as the door of the Throne Room opened, and the others entered. “Ozma, Ruggedo, Zenga, Ugu — thank you for coming.” I glanced behind me and higher, to Iris. “And thank you for waiting.”
“I admit to a bit of impatience, Erik,” Iris said with some humor, and Nimbus echoed his smile. “But that is perhaps foolish. After all, you shall always be here, now.”
I glanced at Polychrome, who raised her eyebrow and smiled at me; we had already talked some about this. “That… is not entirely correct, Iris,” I said.
“I would expect that both he and Polychrome will be visiting Oz,” pointed out Ozma with a smile, “for they are of course most welcome, and if I do not mistake him, Erik would very much enjoy seeing Oz from the point of view of a guest and not an invader or a sacrifice.”
I laughed. “You are completely correct, Princess. Yet I speak of something far more serious.” I turned to Ugu. “Ugu the Unbowed, you mentioned certain questions that remained to you, and that while you abhor your methods you do not entirely repudiate your prior feelings. In this, you are entirely correct.”
Ozma looked at me closely, and Iris leaned down; to have both looking at me that intensely was, to be honest, slightly intimidating. Maybe I was mostly mortal still, but some lingering touch of Faerie gave me the ability to sense the vast power in Ozma; I didn’t see a delicate little girl, really, but rather I saw something more like Iris Mirabilis in a female guise.
“How do you mean, this, Erik Medon?” Ozma said finally.
“First, let me speak of what I’ve learned here — and what I’ve guessed. Which will require me to confirm some things I’ve guessed, in order to go onward. Iris, long ago — even by some Faerie standards — your people, your world was one with ours, and it then began to separate. I believe this was no accident; it was according to a directive of what you call the Above. Am I right?”
Iris nodded. “You are.”
“And the purpose of this was to allow humanity to follow the path it had begun, one of self-determination, and to prevent the presence of the Gods and the Faerie from being either too great a help, or too great a hindrance, in that development.”
That surprised him, and he sat back in his throne. “Now by my Father, how did you know that? For I shall take an oath that not a hint of that is written anywhere in the Hall of Records.”
I smiled my favorite sharp grin. “Don’t underestimate us mortals, Lord Iris. That kind of thing is an old, old idea, and one that makes sense with the timing of events.
“But the problem of course was, and is, that the Above — the Gods, if you will, and the Faerie — were, and are, connected to humanity, and we are connected to them. The worship and belief, the faith and will, the strength of our spirits connects somehow to your very essence, and the battles and triumphs, the hopes and fears, of this world are echoed, even across the great gap separating us, into my own. Thus many of the things we have remarked upon — how things that I could not have known still seemed to be true, from the voice of a ruler I had never known to the ways of magic that had been lost to my world.” I turned back to Ozma.
“My Lady — your Majesty, you must forgive me for what I am about to say, but you made a terrible and grave mistake in your rulership. An understandable one, even a laudable one — but a terrible one with grave consequences nonetheless.”
For a moment she looked affronted — and then her coal-black eyes closed, and opened again with a rueful sparkle. “Speak, then, Erik Medon. We would still be imprisoned, and our realm enslaved, were it not for you and your imagination. We would be both ungrateful, and dangerously foolish, to disregard your insight now.”
I sighed with relief. Whew. I hoped she’d be reasonable about this, but there was always the risk… “You sought to make Oz as close to a paradise as there has ever been. Seeing the evil done with magic in the wrong hands — having suffered a terrible transformation and violation of your own body and mind as a child,” and I saw both acknowledgement of that wound, and thanks that I had chosen not to bring the Wizard into this discussion, “you determined that none would practice magic without your direct leave. More, you sought ever and ever to replace argument with negotiation, anger with peace, any pain with joy, through the power of your Above-mandated position as Ruler of Oz, the very heart of Faerie.”
She nodded slowly. “This is true. Even the books speak of these things — though of course not so clearly or directly.”
“But in doing this you created your own destruction — and perhaps that of my own people as well,” I said quietly.
“What?” Iris’ voice was shocked. “What can you mean by that?”
“Your citizens are human beings, Ozma. Perhaps with a trace of Faerie blood, perhaps a bit more, some animals touched by the magic of the realm, but in the end not that much different than those of my world. They feel anger, they feel hatred, they feel love and pain and fear and joy and all the other things that I do or that I could feel. By exerting your will to make these things less and less common, you fought the very nature of what people are. That…darker essence could not be destroyed, not here in Faerie, where the metaphysical is as real as the physical. But you rejected it, and your people with you. All of Faerie, in fact, for the most part, because when you make a decision — as the Ruler of Oz — it is not just a simple command, a directive like those a mortal might make. By your very nature and the position you hold, your will becomes manifest throughout all Faerie, and calls upon its power to make your will into truth. Only those of the meanest and most savage natures — or those with the strongest wills and — perhaps — most selfish and self-justified reasons for their negative emotions — were able to hold on to them. The rest…went elsewhere.”
“Where?” Zenga asked, her voice showing that she was starting to understand the implications.
“To his world,” Ugu said, his deep voice echoing about the throneroom with grim understanding. “We all have heard the tales of the world of men and how it has become increasingly…frenetic, dangerous, dark, strange, alien. And…” his brow furrowed, and he continued slowly, “and…if what he says is true…why, then, this echoes back to us, creating confusion, instability, unrest.”
“Bringing together those who are unaffected or resistant to the effect, yes,” I continued. “Such as yourself and Amanita. Were it not you, it would have been others, I believe.”
The diminutive Ozma stared at me in horror. “Do you mean to say that…that I caused all this to happen?”
“Not willingly. Not planned it. But I believe, very strongly, that this sequence of events has its roots in your attempt to make Oz something it could not truly be — for the best possible motives. Ozma, the fact is that people here really are the same as people from my world, in their most basic essence. The first glimpse we saw of Oz — before you returned — showed just that, a land of great promise, of evil and ugliness and of goodness and beauty. After you returned, it became more and more a place of minimal danger, where even death was reduced or eliminated. At first I’d thought this was just Baum’s choice…but once I came here I started to wonder.”
Iris looked at Ozma, and then down at Polychrome. “My daughter, what have you to say?”
“Father, you know he’s right,” she said bluntly, without hesitation. “Everything…became more…oh, I don’t know… extreme, perhaps… after Ozma became ruler of Oz. And yet somehow none of the great tensions were released while she was there. Then when Oz…fell…”
Iris closed his eyes and nodded. “It was devastation. As though all the unrest of hundreds of years had been unleashed in a matter of hours.”
“An astute interpretation…and an accurate one, I suspect,” Ruggedo said finally. “What do you intend to do about it, then?”
“We’ve mentioned the Above. But the fact is there’s another side that you speak of much more seldom, that you call the Below. They, too, play their part in this. Do you think the disruptions and chaos are unguided? I don’t. They’ve taken this opening and tried their best to cause utter destruction. We’ve averted it…for now. But that won’t last if things continue as they are.”
“What would you have us do?” Ozma asked.
“For Oz? You need to let it be what it truly is — the center of Faerie, a place of high beauty, high adventure, of great danger and great mystery, of the grotesque and horrific as well as the whimsical and heartwarming. Ugu might have been a terrible threat…or, without your directive threatening his family’s tradition, he might never have even become known to you. Magic is part of Oz.” I chuckled. “Hell, look at the books. The most interesting things in them only happen when someone is playing around with magic, so Baum had to rely on either the stories of renegades, or in making up some himself.”
“That, however,” Ugu said, “will hardly reverse the consequences of centuries. Not swiftly, and perhaps not at all, if the Below has chosen to move.”
“And that brings me to the other point. Poly and I won’t always be here, because I have a responsibility for two worlds, not just one — and now that we’re married, so does she.”
Iris shot to his feet, and his height made him three times as intimidating. “It is forbidden!”
I took a deep breath. “I’m un-forbidding it.”
“You would challenge the Above?” He looked at me as though I was insane — and no doubt that possibility was on his mind.
“It’s more that the Above has challenged me,” I answered with a wry grin.
“What do you mean by that?” Ozma asked.
I remembered that moment on Caelorum Sanctorum. “I… saw the Above again, as Poly and I were married. And the look that…well, their leader, not to use any one name, gave me wasn’t just one of congratulation. He was looking at me in a way that said, as clear as if he’d spoken it, that I wasn’t anywhere near done yet.”
Iris stared at me for several moments. Then slowly he reached down and brought up the Pink Bear, and looked down at it. “I am…loath to ask many questions of you, Bear, for too much pain have we endured after the last time, no matter the reasons. Yet I would know if he saw truly.”
The Bear looked up and spoke in its mechanical, jerky, high-pitched voice. “He saw as well as a mortal may, Iris Mirabilis, and read in the gaze of the All-Seeing that which it was desired he should read.”
Iris narrowed his gaze. “Desired by whom?” he said, clearly determined to leave no assumption untested this time.
“By the All-Seeing.”
Iris hesitated, then sighed. “Then it is as you say. But do you understand what you imply, Erik Medon?”
“I think I do. We’ve had a long time to grow, Iris. Humanity’s got a lot of problems, but we’re not children any more, and I don’t think…I don’t think it’s good for us that we are separated any more.” I took Polychrome’s hand, felt the warm accord between us. “We were meant to be together, and I don’t think the Above meant this separation to be for all time.”
“And when,” he said after a moment, looking to Nimbus, “will you be going?”
“Soon,” I said simply. “The time advantage here has helped — I’ve only been gone a few months from the mortal viewpoint. But it would be too easy for me to stay, lose track of time, and suddenly run out of it.”
“Run out?”
“I left instructions when I left that would keep things going for a year, but once that’s over, I’d have nothing left and I’d have to start from scratch — which isn’t easy in the modern world. I’ll have a hard time explaining everything even with all my resources still intact.” I grinned. “Believe me, you’ve never had to fill out the forms I have.”
I went back to looking serious. “And yes, I could also run out of time myself. Both you and Ozma admit that you haven’t any idea what I am now, or whether I’m going to break apart in the next ten minutes or live as long as a Faerie. So I can’t afford to waste time.”
“That is true,” Ozma admitted. “The few times something such as you and I have done had been attempted… well, the mortal did not survive. Perhaps you are still a True Mortal — that we could, I suppose, test. But even such a test would not prove that there are no other effects, merely that you have not entirely changed. Yes, your soul could be deeply damaged and on the verge of dissolution, or you could be something far more than either Faerie or Mortal. None can say, nor shall we be able to unless and until something happens to give us that insight.”
Iris closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped for a moment. “Nimbus?”
“I have little to add, Majesty. If we accept the words of Lord Erik and the Pink Bear, there is no choice for it but that we must turn back towards the Mortal world, prepare for a change in both realms such as has not been seen since we both were far younger, since Polychrome herself was a child in truth.” He hesitated, then turned to the rest of us. “You should understand, Lord Erik, and the rest of you, as well, for of all of you only Ruggedo was full-grown in those days, and he absented himself from most of the proceedings.”
The old Nome King gave a snort. “Indeed, for I cared not at all for mortals then. Grasping, scurrying ephemeral rats, I used to call them. What fools we all were in youth, even we of Faerie.”
“At least you have come to this knowledge while still able to appreciate it, Ruggedo,” Nimbus said with a wry smile. “But to explain: much of the weight of the Separation fell upon Iris Mirabilis, for he is the master of the Rainbow that bridges the worlds. To bring them together will, also, fall upon him, and such a burden is a hard thing to bear.”
Polychrome nodded. “I remember that Father was often gone, and when he was not, he was…tired, distracted, for a long time.”
“Meaning that once this task is begun, Iris will be able to do little else for us,” I finished slowly. “It will be up to the rest of us.” I thought for a moment. “Ugu?” He nodded. “While I think your basic responsibility remains unchanged, I’d amend the manner of carrying it out. Ozma will need a strong right hand who will act, who is respected by both the people of Oz and by forces much darker, able to both converse and combat those he confronts. She also needs insight from one who has seen the consequences of her policies, and who understands what it is to rule. I can think of no better choice than you.”
Ugu stared at me, and then almost fearfully at Ozma, an expression startling on that almost imperturbable face. “Majesty?” he said finally, as she returned his stare with an unreadable look on her flower-perfect features.
She was silent for a moment. “Erik Medon, you truly ask me to accept as a trusted advisor the one who bound my country, myself, who unleashed Amanita Verdant upon the world, who planned and led the revolution that nearly destroyed all of Faerie?”
I looked back steadily. “I do indeed, Ozma. In this, I can point only to your own beliefs. This man has repented of his acts, and wishes to make amends for his evil. You forgave one who acted against you out of selfishness before, and he has become one of the most beloved and celebrated men of Oz. Can you do so again? Will you give him that chance, as you gave the Wizard?”
Then she smiled, with a smile so wide and bright that it lit the room. “And I see that truly you understand what I sought to be, and I cannot argue with myself. All deserve that chance at redemption if they truly seek it. Ugu the Unbowed — for indeed that is your name, and shall remain your name, for though beaten you have kept a pride that is not bravado — you shall come with me as advisor, and…troubleshooter, as I think Erik Medon would say. And so, too, if he wishes, will Cirrus Dawnglory, for I have seen that he finds too much pain here to be truly happy.”
I saw a shadow pass over Nimbus’ face, and Poly gripped my hand a little tighter, but Nimbus nodded, and Ugu bowed. “I accept with gratitude, Princess Ozma.”
Zenga stepped forward. “I’d like to come too.”
“You don’t want to return to Pingaree?” Ozma looked surprised.
Zenga shrugged. “I wasn’t just sent out to fight the Usurpers. The idea was political alliance. Well, the first one seems not to have quite worked out,” she threw a grin and a wink at me, “but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other…possibilities.” Her gaze flicked boldly from Nimbus to Ugu, both of whom looked suddenly taken aback, and then to Ruggedo, who coughed and was suddenly red as his name, and even to Iris, who tried and failed to conceal a look of combined amusement and minor affront. “I’m in no hurry, though, and I’m not planning to marry just for the advantage.” I could tell that last phrase was there for me, and I smiled at her. “So helping out in Oz, in the Rainbow Kingdom, the Nome Kingdom — traveling like the Penitent, even — sounds to me like the right thing to do.”
“You may have an alliance with Oz without need for such…drastic measures,” Ozma said, with a smile of her own, “but you have shown how formidable you are — in more ways than one, it would seem — and surely you are welcome in Oz to help us in these troubled times.”
Iris turned back to us. “And so you shall leave us…soon?”
“Tomorrow, in fact. Honestly, it’s also a tradition.”
The Lord of the Rainbow blinked. “A tradition?”
“Sure. Where I come from, when people get married, they often go to some faraway exotic location for a honeymoon.” I smiled at my wife — wife! What an alien…yet wonderful…word! — as I continued, “well, the Mortal World’s really faraway and exotic for Polychrome, and for me…it’s been a long time since I went home.”
The immense Lord of the Rainbow gazed down, and slowly a smile spread across his face, and suddenly he threw back his head and laughed. “So be it, Erik Medon. And indeed, it is fitting. The Faerie and Mortal worlds are to be joined again, and in the moment of that decision, a Mortal and a Faerie have been joined with the blessings of the Above, after together saving the realms of Faerie; now, together, they will go to his world, and perhaps for the same reason.
“So rest well, my son, my daughter, for tomorrow my Rainbow shall span the length of the Heavens, and you shall walk on the soil of the mortal world once more.”