"How? Where?" The King plucked him frantically by the arm.
"He is safe in the Emerald City," lied Akbad calmly. "Last night, determined to save not only the Prince but our fair Islands as well, I picked the golden pear."
A little murmur of disapproval greeted Akbad's statement and they all looked curiously and accusingly at the golden wings, which they seemed to see for the first time.
"Immediately," continued the wily Soothsayer, "these wings attached themselves to my shoulders. Flying into the Prince's bed chamber, I lifted him in my arms and carried him to the great capital of Oz. Leaving him in the kindly care of our gentle ruler, Ozma, I stole into the garden and seizing a mortal maiden returned to the Ozure Isles and left her in the cave of Quiberon." Folding his arms proudly he waited for the King's commendation.
"That was very wrong of you," sighed Cheeriobed, letting his arm drop heavily at his side, "but I suppose you did it for the best."
"Idiot!" hissed Toddledy, "Why did you not ask Ozma to help us?"
"I did!" declared Akbad promptly. "As soon as the Wizard returns from the blue forest she will journey to our illustrious islands, destroy Quiberon and restore his Majesty's Queen!" Even Toddledy was silenced by this surprising news, while the Ozure Islanders began to cheer loud and lustily. Only the King still seemed disturbed.
"But the mortal maiden, we must save the mortal maiden!" exclaimed Cheeriobed anxiously. "You should never have carried her to that monster's cave. Who will go with me to rescue this poor child?" The Islanders looked uncomfortably at one another, then as the King started resolutely off by himself, a dozen of the boldest Guards followed.
"We can only perish once," declared the leader gallantly, "and to be destroyed with your Majesty is not only an honor but a pleasure as well." Akbad made no attempt to accompany them, but the others, shamed by such bravery dashed hurriedly after the King.
When the last one had gone, Akbad stepped quietly into the garden. Sinking down under the emerald tree he mopped his brow with his sleeve and cursed his own stupidity. Why had he not done as he had said; appealed to Ozma for help instead of foolishly seizing the mortal maiden? Perhaps it was not too late. He would fly back and beg Ozma to find the little Prince and save the Ozure Isles. Hoarsely he commanded the wings to take him to the Emerald City, but motionless and heavy they hung from his shoulders. Horrified to find that they would no longer obey him, he rubbed against the tree in an unsuccessful effort to brush them off. Then he tried every magic phrase and incantation that he knew to rid himself of the golden wings but though he pulled and tugged the wings stuck fast.