“The Three-Part Test,” Pete said. “Wisdom, Courage, and Love. It’s part of your journey. I can guide you to the fairy kingdom, but you’ll have to pass the test on your own to prove your selflessness. The fairies won’t help you unless they believe it’s for the good of Oz.”

Test? Other Place? Fairies? What Pete was saying didn’t make any sense at all. And why did Pete care if he stayed here or went to what was supposedly his home? If he thought about it for too long his head hurt. “Why now?” he asked suddenly. “Why didn’t you just leave me to sleep?”

Pete pulled Hex to his feet, ignoring his protests. “It’s time to start walking,” he said. “No one will be looking for you, or expect to see you out here wandering around, but we can’t take any chances.”

“Why does it matter if anyone recognizes me?”

Before Hex even realized what was happening, Pete had taken hold of his face in both hands, staring deep into his eyes with his own uncanny green ones. “Hold still,” Pete said. “This might hurt.” He pushed his palms into Hex’s cheeks with a terrible cracking sound. The sudden flare of pain was overwhelming, and Hex uttered a muffled yell. He could feel the bones of his skull shifting as Pete’s hands—almost unbearably hot now—continued to push at his cheeks and jaw. His skin was burning; his scalp felt as though it might peel away from his skull in flayed pieces, his teeth as though they were crumbling in his jaw. Tears sprang to his eyes, and a flash of contempt crossed Pete’s face before he finally took his hands away. Hex sank to his knees, gasping for breath, and touched his face, afraid of what he’d find there. His skin was cool and ordinary to the touch. The agony lessened to a dull throb.

“I could have just glamoured you,” Pete said, “but this will last longer. I’d show you in a mirror, but I don’t have one—and anyway, you don’t remember what you looked like before. But trust me, no one in Oz is going to recognize you now.” Hex rubbed his jaw, wincing at the remembered pain. “You’ll need new clothes, too,” Pete added, tossing him a pair of pants and a shirt that he’d somehow summoned out of thin air and then pointedly turning his back. After a moment, Hex changed into the new clothes. They fit him perfectly. He carefully folded the clothes he’d been wearing and cleared his throat. Pete turned around again, and Hex handed Pete his old suit. Pete snapped his fingers, and the clothes disappeared.

“Thanks,” he said, and laughed. Pete looked at him in surprise.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Let’s get going.”

Pete was already walking away from him, striding briskly through the tall, pale blue grass. Hex scrambled after him, his mind burning with questions. Why, after twenty-five years, had Pete woken him up now? Why did it matter if anyone recognized him? Who was Pete, and why did he call Hex a wizard? Who were the fairies, and why was Pete taking him to them? Hex stared at Pete’s back and sighed. It didn’t take a wizard to know his questions weren’t going to be answered anytime soon.

THREE

They walked through the pale blue fields for a long time, stopping briefly to eat some bread and cheese that Pete summoned out of thin air. (“That’s magic,” Pete said. “Not like the flashy tricks you used to do.”) Their shadows lengthened on the grass; by now it was late in the afternoon. Pete occasionally squinted up at the sun as if gauging their direction, but when Hex asked him about it he only laughed. “This is Oz,” he said. “The directions change all the time. I’m following the feel of the Old Magic—that’s what’s telling me where to go.”

“Old Magic?” Pete didn’t answer at first, and Hex thought he was ignoring the question, but after a moment, he shrugged.

“You really don’t remember anything, do you? The Old Magic is the lifeblood of Oz. The power that runs through this place and keeps it alive. It’s like a huge web that connects everything together. The people, the landscape, the animals, the palace—Old Magic flows through everything. Only the most powerful witches in Oz can tap into it. And the fairies, of course, because technically it’s their magic—but I don’t think even they truly understand how it works.”

“The fairies who will be testing me?” Hex asked.

“The fairies are the original citizens of Oz,” Pete replied, apparently content to continue his history lesson. “They were the ones who first crossed the Deadly Desert, long before Oz existed, and used their blood to give Oz its magic and bring life to the desert. They created Oz out of the wasteland. Because of that, the fairies are the rightful rulers of Oz. There have been other guardians of the throne over the years, of course.” Pete shot Hex an inscrutable look. “But none of those rulers are legitimate unless they’ve been authorized by the fairies. Anyway, if anyone can help you get home, it’s the fairies.” He put a strange stress on the word “legitimate,” and Hex wondered what he was getting at. Fairies? Old Magic? It all sounded like a bad penny dreadful. He frowned. Penny dreadful. An image of a cheap, flimsy booklet, its cover printed in lurid colors, a fanged vampire leering over a cringing blonde girl in a low-cut dress. Something he’d once owned? He felt as though he were surrounded by a translucent but impermeable wall—he could almost see through to the other side, where his old self awaited him in his real life, memories intact. But every time he tried to reach out he crashed into a barrier as solid as glass.