Fearsome? She thought she might never dream of anything else again. Each one of the foul creatures was ridden by a soldier in leather chaps. Each soldier, equipped with a whip and dirk, looked terrified.

Each leaned forward, wrapped obscenely around the neck of his mount, whispering to it. Dragonmasters. She had heard tel of such.

But the creatures themselves. Rain had told only the glamour part of it. Yes, there were scales that burned in the sun, imbrications of bronze and bruise-purple gold. But a lizardy dankness obtained as wel, the stench of the bog. Their skuls were shaped less like horses than like some strange elongated insect. And eyes! She remembered the glowing eyes of the Clock of the Time Dragon. Like genuine eyes, those had gleamed with life, but these actual dragon eyes looked polished, blank, black, deadly. They reflected al, they gave nothing away. “Pul back, lest one of them see you,” said Glinda, but Rain behaved as if she were at the parade of a traveling zoo. Glinda had to hold Rain’s hands to keep her from clapping.

“Let’s try the book one more time, shal we?” she said when the dragons had passed. Before they could pul it out, Zackers opened the door without knocking and Cherrystone strode in.

“I’m taking my leave,” he told her. “Zackers wil stay behind to see to your needs. I apologize for the inconveniences, but you can see why we couldn’t alow you the run of your house and the service of your aides.”

“Why do you not kil me, and save yourself the trouble of abusing my staff?” she said, putting Rain behind her and holding her in place with clamped hands. Nonetheless, she felt Rain peering around her hip.

“Depending on how the matter unfolds, you may yet come in use. Not to me—to your country. Your liberated staff wil have spread the word that you are detained against your wishes. Al of western Munchkinland knows that you are locked up here. Should we decide to sue for peace, you are advantageously placed as a loyal Ozian with strong affections for Munchkinland. A former Throne Minister with personal ties to the rebel province. Munchkinlanders would accept you as an emissary of the Emperor. We have arranged it for you to be ready to serve.”

“What have you done with Murth?”

He inched forward. In the heat of the impending battle was he going to kiss her at last? But he had in mind something more of a sneer. “Why should you care?” he said. “You don’t even know her first name.” She sputtered and thought of slapping him, but that would be too drawing-room farce. He said, “I want to take the girl with me.”

“I think the phrase is, over my dead body. And since you intend to keep me alive, you may as wel go off on your capers. Your days of being a tutor are through, anyway; you’ve got your army to manage.