This was a short Oz story I wrote a couple years ago. To hype up my upcoming novel, Zinnia’s Wish, I’m sharing it here! It’s kind of a stealth parody of obsessive collectors, who seem to miss the point of the books with their extreme materialism.
The Heartless Collector
By Suren Oganessian
The sound of tin clanking against the polished floor of the Emerald Palace echoed through Ozma’s throne room just as she was preparing to hold her daily court, and listen to the problems of her subjects. Ozma at once recognized the sound. She looked over at Dorothy, who stood by her side, giving Ozma a worried look. The doors flew open, and the Tin Woodman scampered through.
“Princess! Someone has stolen my heart!”
Before Ozma could utter a word, there came a giggle, as Scraps the Patchwork Girl cartwheeled into the room.
“Oooh who’s the lucky girl? Or guy? Was it the Scarecrow? It was him, wasn’t it? Can we share the Scarecrow pleeease??”
“You don’t understand! I mean literally! The silk heart that the Wizard gave me is gone!”
“Quiet down, Scraps,” Ozma said, as Scraps slinked back to the side of the throne with her arms behind her back. Ozma turned her attention back to her friend, “Go on.”
“I was due for my monthly waxing and polishing, and some of my Winkie subjects noticed I was getting a bit rusty in my joints, so they had to take my body apart. They placed my heart on a windowsill for safe keeping, but when it came time to reassemble me, my heart was gone!”
“And you don’t suppose it fell out the window?” Ozma asked.
“We looked for it down there,” the Tin Woodman groaned.
“Perhaps one of your subjects stole it,” Dorothy suggested.
“Perish the thought,” the Tin Woodman sighed, “I hated to do it because I know how loyal they all are, but I had each of the tinsmiths thoroughly searched. Then I had the rest of the staff at my castle searched. None if them had it. We looked all over the castle, in every crack and crevice. I wouldn’t have come all the way here if I hadn’t tried all that first, you know.”
“Yes I know, you’re smarter than that,” Ozma nodded, “This is a troubling problem indeed. But, it’s nothing the Magic Picture couldn’t help us with.”
With that, the Tin Woodman, Dorothy. Scraps and Ozma left the throne room to have a look at the Magic Picture, kept in Ozma’s bed chamber. Her bed chamber was large and extravagant, and kept tidy by the maid Jellia Jamb. The Magic Picture was behind some curtains, against the wall. Ozma pulled the curtains back, and there the picture was, depicting a serene scene of wavy blue grass dotted with bluets in a meadow somewhere in Munchkin Country.
“Magic Picture, show me the Tin Woodman’s heart.” Ozma commanded.
The meadow faded away, and soon, the picture depicted the Tin Woodman’s heart, in a glass case. There was a small card in the case with it, which read:
“The Tin Woodman’s Heart: This is the original heart that the Wizard of Oz bestowed upon the Tin Woodman during Dorothy’s legendary first arrival in Oz, more than 120 years ago.”
Next to the glass case was what looked like the kind of tiara Ozma wore on special occasions, with an emerald-encrusted crown attached to it. When Ozma noticed this, her jaw dropped. She put her hands on her tiara, for a moment relieved to find that it was still there. But she was wearing her golden tiara today, not this one. And on the other side of the case was a fancy top hat, like the kind that the Wizard liked to wear. At that moment, there was a knock on the door.
“Hello, Ozma?” it was the voice of the Wizard, “Is it okay to come in? I can’t seem to find my hat, and I wondered if I could use the Magic Picture to find it.”
The friends exchanged astonished glances.
“Someone put my heart in a museum!” the Tin Woodman exclaimed in horror.
Ozma went to the door and opened it for the Wizard.
“I think we already know where your hat is,” said Ozma, motioning toward the Magic Picture. The Wizard looked, and his eyebrows rose in astonishment.
“I would like to double check and see if my ceremonial crown is still in my wardrobe,” Ozma added. Her wardrobe was understandably quite big, bigger on the inside than it appeared in fact. But she kept her crowns on a shelf at the top, and it was immediately apparent that one of them was missing.
“Well now, it seems we’ve all had things stolen from us,” said the Wizard, “But until we know where this ‘museum’ or private collection is, we can’t do much about it.”
“This reminds me far too much of the time Ugu the Shoemaker started stealing all of Oz’s relics,” said Dorothy, looking to Ozma, “At least no one’s been kidnapped, that we know of.”
“Yes, and at least the Magic Picture is still here,” Ozma replied, “Although that would be a more useful item to steal for any villain trying to conquer Oz than these trinkets.”
“My heart is no trinket!” the Tin Woodman shouted.
“Sorry, I know it’s important to you,” Ozma added with sympathy.
“The item’s actual power doesn’t seem to mean much to the thief,” the Wizard deduced, “Perhaps its the item’s value.”
“But we don’t use money in Oz,” said Dorothy, “That’s why you hardly ever hear about things being stolen here.”
“Then maybe this museum isn’t in Oz,” the Wizard said gravely. The room fell silent for a few moments, before the Tin Woodman began to cry.
“Oh nooo, don’t do that!” Scraps immediately wiped his tears with a quilted rag she kept in her dress pocket.
“We must contact Glinda at once,” Ozma declared, “Her Book of Records should point us in the right direction.”
This struck everyone as a good idea, although they hoped the book hadn’t been taken too. Ozma contacted her via the Wizard’s portable telephone. Of course, Glinda had already seen the entry in her Book of Records, and knew Ozma would be calling.
“A good many people across Oz have had things stolen from them lately, it would seem,” said Glinda, “Not just you and your friends. The Book of Records is as vague as usual about the culprit. It says here ‘The Heartless Collector enhanced his collection to display it for all to see. He took relics from Oz, and brought them to Ev, to show them off for a fee.’ How he achieved this is another mystery entirely.”
“So it was someone from Ev,” Ozma pondered, “Yes, that would make sense, they still use money in Ev.”
“And that is why Ev will never be as great of a country as Oz, where our only currency is love and kindness,” the Tin Woodman scoffed, wiping his eyes, “Any society that relies on money is sick and cruel at a fundamental level. All it does is create greed, inequality, poverty and suffering.”
“Now now, I know you’re angry, but let’s not insult our ally,” said the Wizard.
“Well, he has a point, there is a reason my family had to move to Oz,” Dorothy admitted, “We were going to be homeless because we didn’t have enough money, and I was going to have to go to work even though I was only a kid. Here in Oz everyone gets a home to themselves and it can be as big or as small as they need it to be.”
“Yes well, I don’t suppose it would be practical to run things in America they way we do in Oz,” the Wizard remarked.
“Not practical for the greedy people at the top who benefit from it by exploiting everyone else and doing nothing but hoarding all their wealth, you mean,” the Tin Woodman remarked, “Say Dorothy, do they steal things and put them in museums in the Outside World too?”
“I suppose they do,” Dorothy replied, “I read that there’s a big museum in London, in the country of England, that’s full of stolen artifacts from around the world, that they got from when they were an empire conquering other countries. Far from the only such museum in the Outside World, I’m afraid.”
“Why did you go back there four times before staying in Oz again?” Scraps asked.
Ozma sighed, and spoke into the portable telephone again, “What do you think we should do, Glinda?”
“We must send a delegation to Ev at once,” she suggested, “If we contact Ev’s royal family and go about this diplomatically, we might have an easier time retrieving the stolen goods.”
“Excellent idea,” said the Wizard, “I’m up for a trip to Ev. Anyone else?”
“I want to go, of course,” said the Tin Woodman.
“Take me, take me! Don’t forsake me!” Scraps chanted.
“I had better stay here,” said Ozma, “I might be needed.”
“Suppose I haven’t left Oz in a long time,” said Dorothy.
“You don’t mind aging a bit while you’re gone?” Ozma asked Dorothy, who along with the Wizard was being kept alive and the same age by Oz’s anti-aging spell.
“I would like to be closer in age to you anyway, if only by a few days,” Dorothy said with a smile, giving Ozma a peck on the lips.
“Has anyone seen the Scarecrow?” the Tin Woodman asked, “I would like to bring him too.”
“Last I heard he was visiting Munchkin Country,” Ozma replied, “Perhaps we should let him enjoy his vacation.”
“All right,” the Tin Woodman replied, disappointed his friend couldn’t come, “How are we getting there anyway? The magic carpet? The Ozoplane?”
“How about some wishing pills?” the Wizard suggested, “I just made a fresh batch the other day with sand from the Wish Way.”
The company found this solution to be the quickest and easiest, and after having a nice lunch and discussing what they were to say to Ev’s royal family, it was decided that they would wish themselves to the royal palace in the city of Evna, since they didn’t know exactly where this museum was, and making a wish to go somewhere you aren’t sure about could easily backfire. Dorothy took a wishing pill and wished the four of them to the royal palace of Ev.
In an instant, they found themselves at the gates of the palace of King Evardo XVII, ruler of Ev, in the capital city Evna. Whereas the Emerald City was dominated by emeralds, Evna’s buildings were of white marble, with silver accents, and the palace reflected this. Being here always reminded Dorothy and the Tin Woodman of the first time Dorothy returned to Nonestica, where she found herself not in Oz but Ev. That was long ago, now.
“Aha, it worked, we’re here,” said the Wizard, approaching the large door in front of them and knocking with one of the large knockers on each side.
A maid opened the door, wearing a cap trimmed with ribbons. Dorothy recognized her as Nanda, Ev’s royal maid. Nanda regarded this queer group with curiosity, but the Tin Woodman and Scraps were so recognizable, as was Dorothy, so it didn’t take her long to realize who they were.
“What brings you from Oz?” Nanda asked.
The Wizard gave a respectful bow, “We are here on urgent business by royal appointment of her gracious majesty, Ozma of Oz, and wish to speak with King Evardo.”
“Come right this way and wait in the drawing room, I will tell him you are here and ask him to grant you an audience.”
They followed, and were allowed to sit on a grand sofa as Nanda hurried up a flight of marble stairs to the throne room. The walls were adorned with portraits of the different Evardos that had ruled Ev in the past. Because people weren’t immortal in Ev, there had been two Evardos since Dorothy’s first adventure in Ev. This saddened her to think about. The Tin Woodman was becoming more and more impatient as they waited, tapping his tin foot against the silver floor of the palace. After some time, Nanda emerged, and beckoned them to come in. They followed her up the marble staircase.
The throne room was surrounded by mirrors on the walls and ceiling, making it look even bigger than it already was. The King was an elderly man with a flowing beard, wearing a tall crown with the word “EV” engraved on the front. The Wizard and the Tin Woodman both gave a bow to the king, while Dorothy and Scraps curtsied.
“The Emperor of Winkie Country, the Wizard and Princess of Oz, and…the Patchwork Girl. To what do I owe this visit?” King Evardo asked them.
The Wizard had the best way with words of any of them, so they allowed him to explain.
“Your majesty, it has come to our attention that one of your civilians has stolen quite a few items of importance from Oz, to be placed in a museum. We were hoping to retrieve these items, and we hope that whoever stole them is brought to justice.”
The king nodded, and was deep in thought for a few moments.
“The items were stolen, you say? Well, I seem to recall giving a man a permit to open a museum of Nonestica here in Evna. He assured me it would bring in more tourists. Nanda, if you would, please bring me my records of property deeds. I’ll be able to find his name and direct you to the museum.”
Nanda nodded and left, returning soon with a large book. The King placed it on his lap and opened it, scanning through some of the pages that had been filled in recently.
“Ah, here it is. I issued the permit to a man named Everus Evermore. Now, we still don’t know how he may have acquired these items, so don’t be rash. He may not have been the one who stole them, rather, he may have unknowingly purchased them from someone else who stole them.”
“Understood,” said the Wizard, although the Tin Woodman wore a deep frown.
“You may go to the museum and try to retrieve your items. But if he refuses, give him my summons, and we will sort this out here at the palace.”
With that, King Evoldo wrote out a summons on a sheet of parchment, instructing Everus Evermore to report to the palace, whereupon the king would judge the dispute.
“Wait, so there’s a chance he might not be legally required to return the items?” the Tin Woodman asked, maintaining a respectable tone but clearly stressed out.
“The Land of Ev has laws about private property,” said King Evoldo, “Anyway, don’t worry yourself. It will get sorted.”
The king handed them the summons, as well as a road map of Evna with the location of the museum marked on it. They bid the king farewell, and left the palace, following the map through the busy streets of the capital.
“If there’s a loophole in the laws of Ev allowing you to keep something you purchased even if the person you bought it from stole it, I might declare war on this country,” the Tin Woodman muttered.
“Sheesh, you really need your heart back,” Scraps remarked, patting the disgruntled Woodman on the back, “It’s not like you to be this temperamental.”
The Tin Woodman sighed, “I know, I know. I don’t feel very kind right now.”
As the group walked, they passed by a battered-looking Wheeler on the sidewalk, with his hat on the ground begging for coins. His front left wheel was gone, leaving the poor fellow crippled. Another man walking in the opposite direction chastised the Wheeler.
“We gave you equality under the law and you Wheelers are still a bunch of lazy bums leeching off our government. Get a job!”
The man spat at the Wheeler’s face and walked off, as the Wheeler sulked.
“You poor man,” Dorothy said, stooping down in front of him. The Wheeler looked sadly at Dorothy, his eyes teary. Dorothy reached into her dress pocket and produced a beautiful polished emerald, placing it in his hat. The Wheeler’s eyes lit up.
“Y-you’re really giving me that? It…it must be worth a fortune!”
“Take it,” said Dorothy, “I have lots of them back home. In Oz this is just a pretty rock, nothing more. Don’t let anyone steal it from you.”
The Wheeler stumbled to his three wheels. Dorothy helped put the hat on his head with the emerald underneath it.
“Lurline bless you! I’ll be able to afford a house and tons of food with this! Perhaps even an operation to fix my wheel! I would hug you if I could!”
The Wheeler kissed Dorothy’s hand, and then sped away, keeping one wheel front and center for balance.
“That was very generous of you, Dorothy,” said the Wizard.
“There’s no reason that Wheeler should have been reduced to begging in the streets,” the Tin Woodman remarked, “In Oz he would have had his wheel repaired immediately instead of ending up homeless. It wouldn’t depend on him having a job. What a disgusting country.”
“Well, you’re not wrong,” said the Wizard, “And giving a minority equality under the law does nothing when economic inequality still exists.”
“Reminds me of a certain someplace,” Dorothy said, shaking her head.
They continued on through the streets of Evna, until finally reaching a building emblazoned with a lit-up sign reading “Everus Evermore’s Ever-Growing Museum of Nonestica”. The walls around the building were covered in murals depicting the skylines of Evna and the Emerald City. On the front door was a sign reading “Admission fee: 50 gold coins for adults, 45 for children and seniors.”
“I don’t know much about money but that sounds like a pretty steep price to me,” said Scraps.
“Let’s take our stuff back,” the Tin Woodman declared, marching toward the door and opening it.
They entered what looked to be a gift shop, with various wares and replicas from around Nonestica. Dorothy was a bit startled to notice a shelf of silver shoes like the ones she had taken from the Wicked Witch of the East. There were small wind-up toys that looked like Tiktok, replica Magic Belts, plastic Ozma tiaras with fake poppies on either side, and more.
“What a load of junk,” the Tin Woodman muttered, “It will all end up in a landfill or polluting the ocean.”
At that moment a man entered the room, dressed in a green top hat and matching green suit, wearing replica emerald-tinted glasses like the ones that used to be required to enter the Emerald City. He might be mistaken for one of the guards at the gates of the city. On his shoulder was perched a red eagle, who cocked its heard at the visitors with curiosity. The man quickly darted behind the cash register, and the bird flapped onto the counter.
“Greetings friends, I am Everus Evermore, welcome to my museum! Those are some brilliant costumes you’re wearing! You get 20% off the admission fee for arriving in costume, you know.”
“These aren’t costumes,” the Tin Woodman said, opening the small door on his chest and exposing his very empty chest cavity, “I am the Tin Woodman, and you have my heart.”
“Oh! It’s…really you. Hehe, w-well,” Everus shrunk back, exchanging glances with his eagle, “I assure you I acquired all the items in my collection in a most lawful manner. What I purchased at an auction in Ix was advertised to have been a replica of your heart. And anyway, that was months ago. Could I interest you in a free tour?”
“The Magic Picture doesn’t lie,” said Dorothy, “And it said the Tin Woodman’s lost heart was at this museum.”
“Perhaps you mis-worded your command to it,” Everus suggested.
“You give him back his heart, and the Wizard’s hat, and Ozma’s tiara, and whatever else you stole, or I’ll wallop you!” Scraps ordered.
“I told you I don’t have them. They’re just convincing replicas. Let me give you a free tour, and perhaps we can come to some kind of an agreement,” suggested Everus, “I thought you might show up one day, you know. I want to show you the beauty of my Oz collection, which will introduce Oz to a new generation and be an inspiration to those who cannot make the trip across the Deadly Desert to see it themselves. Perhaps then, you will be proud to be a part of it.”
“And after the tour you’ll be giving us our stuff back,” said the Tin Woodman.
“Ahem, step right this way, and prepare yourselves for an immersive experience.”
He opened a door next to the front counter and beckoned them in. Evermore’s collection was quite vast. There were other paying customers in the museum too, who apparently hadn’t paid extra for the guided tour. The first room covered other countries around Nonestica. Beside the door was a glass case containing the three magic pearls of Pingaree, an island off the coast of Rinkitink.
“I’m sure someone misses those,” the Wizard remarked, “Aren’t those the pearls that have always protected Pingaree from invasions? The ones that provide invincibility and the like?”
“Ah, well you see my red eagle here bought them fair and square from someone in Pingaree who was selling them,” Evermore claimed, patting his bird on the head.
“Well I certainly don’t remember selling my heart,” said the Tin Woodman, beginning to piece together how his heart must have been stolen.
“Ahem! Moving on with the tour,” the museum curator said, “I wanted to make sure every country in Nonestica had some representation. Even the lesser-known ones. See that stuffed goat? Straight from Mt. Mern, where the seven-armed goat-herders live. I bought that off a taxidermist when I was traveling there. Mernites are quite good with their hands, you see.”
“Can we get to the point?” the Tin Woodman asked.
“You just want to see the display based on your country, no one else’s? Seems needlessly nationalistic if you ask me.”
The Tin Woodman left the group to look for the Oz room himself, and soon his friends followed.
“Hey wait, this is a guided tour! You’re saving 200 gold coins by getting it for free with four people!” Evermore shouted at them.
“Your museum is too expensive!” Scraps retorted.
“I challenge you to find a better value at any museum in the world! The price is quite fair compared to other museums in Ev!”
“We don’t care, we don’t have money in Oz like you barbarians do,” the Tin Woodman shot back.
“Ooh, what a burn! I like it when you’re moody.” Scraps giggled, “Put that tin foot down!”
The Tin Woodman marched into the Oz room. The room was very colorful, divided into quarters that were painted like the four regions of Oz. The floor had a path that was made of yellow brick and meandered between the displays. One side of the room had a large mural of a detailed map of Oz, clearly based on a map in a nearby glass case, claiming to be the first map of Oz ever drawn by H.M. Wogglebug T.E. The group was quite sure the Wogglebug wouldn’t have willingly given that up. Another wall was covered by a large book shelf filled with antique Oz history books by both the Wogglebug and the Outside World versions by L. Frank Baum; unreturned library books from the Emerald City library, no less. A third wall was covered by a large curtain, with a sign saying that the displays behind it were still being prepared for public viewing and not to peek. Other familiar objects filled the room. They recognized Cayke the Cookie Cook’s Dishpan; the Forbidden Flagon (which Jack Pumpkinhead once used to save Oz); a used can which the Flatheads once kept their brains in, the flower pot from the Magic Isle which Trot and Cap’n Bill had risked their lives to get for Ozma as a birthday present; Button Bright’s magic umbrella; the list of artifacts went on.
“Now now, I can assure you that this was all collected fairly, with the sole purpose of educating people about Oz!” Everus Evermore insisted.
They ignored him, scouring the room for the Tin Woodman’s heart in particular, before finally finding it in one corner of the room, next to the Wizard’s hat and Ozma’s ceremonial tiara.
“There it is!” said the Tin Woodman.
“Don’t you take that! I’ll report you to the police, that’s what I’ll do!”
“I know my own heart better than anything, and this is no reproduction,” said the Tin Woodman, “I am taking it back.”
Everus lunged at the Tin Woodman, but Scraps intervened, cartwheeling in front of him and then jumping up, shoving him backward. The Red Eagle swooped down from the ceiling and grabbed Scraps by the shoulders, throwing her aside. She stumbled backwards, toward some curtains covering one of the walls in the room, and grabbed the curtains for balance, accidentally pulling them down. When they fell everyone was shocked by what was behind them.
Trapped inside a glass box was the head of the Scarecrow. He looked as if he was screaming and pleading for help, but the glass was sound-proof. Scraps gave a gasp of shock.
“Ahem…perfectly animatronic, I assure you,” said Everus.
“You even stole the Scarecrow’s head?!” Scraps exclaimed, “You greedy monster! That’s beyond theft, that’s kidnapping!”
“Under the laws of Ev, that is an object, not a person, and is thus not considered a kidnapping, and I bought him fair and square from my Red Eagle; where the eagle got it is none of my concern,” said Everus, before shouting “Now get out of my museum!”
“No way! This is the last straw!” yelled Scraps, as she lifted the glass case up and smashed it on the floor, freeing the Scarecrow. She picked his head up and cradled it in her arms.
“Thank goodness you came!“ said the Scarecrow, “I was walking down the Yellow Brick Road to Munchkin Country when that enormous red eagle swooped down and took my head clean off! Then he flew over the Deadly Desert with me!”
Everyone glared at the museum curator and the eagle on his shoulder.
“It serves you all right,” said the Red Eagle, speaking for the first time to them, “Long ago Ozma turned me into a sparrow for making a deal with a man who was going to use a wish-granting necklace to take over Oz, but my master Everus Evermore found a way to change me back. And as revenge, I have gathered these artifacts and sold them to him, making it legal.”
“Enough of this!” the Tin Woodman shouted, as he punched through the glass case with a solid tin fist, and took his heart back, also tossing the Wizard’s top hat to him. But he hesitated before putting the heart back in his chest, “No, I think I might leave it out just a little bit longer, so I can deal with you without feeling guilty.”
The Tin Woodman put the heart under his funnel hat, and then charged at Everus, grabbing him and putting him in a headlock. The Red Eagle tried in vain to scratch and peck at the Tin Woodman, barely leaving a dent in his tin body.
“Quick, let’s grab them,” said the Wizard, “We’ll take him to Oz with us using the wishing pills!”
With that Dorothy, Scraps, and the Wizard all hugged the body of the Tin Woodman, and the Wizard took one of his pills, wishing them straight to Ozma’s throne room.
“Wha- where am I?” Everus stammered.
Everyone let go of the Tin Woodman, but the Tin Woodman kept a vice-like grip on the curator.
Ozma quickly scurried into the room, having been watching along on the Magic Picture, and she quickly sat on her throne, instantly taking on a regal appearance.
“I’m sure you saw what happened, Princess,” said the Tin Woodman, “But you should hear what happened. This man sent his pet eagle to fly over the desert and steal things from Oz for his museum.”
Everus began to cry, as he now realized exactly where he was, “I only wanted to bring the beauty of Oz to the masses, and show off my massive collection. I love Oz, really I do!”
“Why did you do such a thing if you claim to be a fan of Oz?” asked Dorothy, “And stealing poor Scarecrow’s head, that was taking it way too far!”
“I never told my eagle to do that, he just did it,” Everus whimpered, “I love collecting, it’s my favorite thing to do! I love going to auctions, traveling across the land for rare artifacts, bargaining and haggling. And I’d amassed such a huge collection I wanted to start a museum so people could enjoy it. But I didn’t have a lot of things from Oz. Then I met that red sparrow on my trip through Skampavia, and I suppose you can guess the rest. I am such a fan of the history books of Oz, I used to read them when I was small, and the thought of collecting things from Oz was too tempting to pass up.”
“Sounds to me like you’re more of a fan of collecting than you are of Oz,” said Ozma, “Being a collector and being a fan of something can sometimes be mutually exclusive. There are true fans of Oz with no collection at all, there are indeed true fans with large collections, and then there are people like you, greedy people with huge collections that are never big enough to satisfy you, but you probably haven’t cracked open an Oz book for years except to appraise its worth, let alone taken any lesson from them about not being greedy.”
“Charging such a high price to get into your museum isn’t very Oz-like,” said Scraps, “And of course neither is stealing.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right Ozma,” Everus blubbered, “I’m just a greedy coward, I cared more about wealth than Oz, but I’ll change! I promise to give everything back.”
“Tin Woodman, release him, and put your heart back in your chest,” Ozma ordered, “I think this man understands the error of his ways.”
The Tin Woodman nodded, and released Everus, who fell to the ground gasping and sniffling. He then took his heart from under his hat and opened his tin chest, and carefully placed his heart back. When he did, he was instantly overcome with sympathy for the greedy old fool. He felt his eyes water.
“I’m sorry I was so rough with you,” he said, extending his hand to help Everus to his feet.
“Oh you had to be,” said Everus Evermore, “I don’t blame you one bit. At the very least I should have told the eagle to bring back the Scarecrow’s head. But I thought of how much money he would bring in.”
“What do you reckon we do with him?” asked Dorothy.
“Well, he must return all of the stolen goods,” said Ozma, “Now that we know where the museum is I should be able to do that with the Magic Belt.”
“Not to mention what he stole from other lands, like the pearls of Pingaree,” the Wizard added.
“Yes, those should be returned too” said Ozma, “And as for your museum, it was not a bad thing in and of itself to educate the people of Ev about Nonestica, and to show them relics from each country. But, maybe you should find things from Oz that people will give you willingly. We aren’t selfish here. Or I can provide you with exact replicas.”
“Why, that would be wonderful,” Everus whispered, wiping his eyes, “I was afraid you were going to throw me into a dungeon.”
“That’s not what we do in Oz!” Scraps retorted, “Read my book again and look at what happened to Ojo when he broke the law! Sheesh!”
“I will not put you in our jail, but I will sentence you to read the Oz histories again, as well as tour the countryside of Oz to ask people nicely for things to put in your museum,” said Ozma with a smile, “That is your punishment. And your museum will henceforth be free to enter. Because I know Ev still uses money, should you ever have dire financial needs, just contact us and we will help.”
“And what about that eagle?” the Scarecrow asked.
“I almost forgot,” said Ozma. She held up her Magic Belt, and in an instant, the eagle in the museum was transformed into a sparrow again, to its chagrin. It fluttered out of the window angrily.
“It certainly feels good to have my heart back!” the Tin Woodman declared, putting an arm around Scraps as she cradled the Scarecrow’s head, “I feel like my old self again. Let me know when you’re in Winkie Country, Everus, and I’ll give you a guided tour.”
And so he did. Everus Evermore gathered a unique collection of odds and ends from Oz for his museum simply by asking for them. Ozma gave him detailed replicas of the Magic Belt and the Magic Picture. And The Museum of Nonestica became one of the biggest tourist destinations in Evna, which all got to enjoy, regardless of how rich they were. The Red Sparrow was never seen in Ev again, but rumor has it he has been seen flittering about in Oz, looking for a way to undo his transformation.
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