Chapter One
The clearing was surrounded by woods, the leafy overhang of branches would work for me, and a square space in the center was free of debris. Excellent
Landing with a humph that would have made Glinda blanch, but wasn't loud enough to alert anyone to my presence (not that I expected pursuit); I hit the ground hard enough to ensure a pleasant jarring of my ankles. Well, it couldn't all be easy. But was traveling by broom really the best idea, tonight not withstanding of course? Snap out of it Elphaba, I told myself. Transport is the least of your problems.
I dropped my broom carelessly to one side, taking greater care with my bag, which contained nothing but the Grimmerie and my returning train ticket. I wasn't sure whether it was out of reverence or fear, but Oz only knew how fragile the book was.
Wringing my hands to rid them of the stiffness, I went over the day's events. In a nutshell: the Wizard, Morrible, the Grimmerie, Chistery's transformation, heart wrenching realization mixed with cutting betrayal, my decision, Glinda's refusal, and my ride over the rooftops of the Emerald City. None of it would have happened if he'd really been wonderful. How hollow the title sounded now, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The man I'd longed to stand beside for years, trained with Madame Morrible so I could be worthy of his notice. Morrible. If anyone deserved the title Wicked Witch it was that two-faced snake. Her words on the day she had discovered my talent rang in my ears, as if it were only yesterday.
"What? Never apologize for talent! Talent is a gift! And that is my talent, encouraging talent. Have you ever considered a career in sorcery?"
The eagerness in the old woman's eyes. The gloriously unexpected solution she provided me; an escape from my otherwise tawdry existence. A smile of grim satisfaction stole across my face. The extent of my powers had come as a surprise to us both, but that was only part of it. She hadn't bargained on my fury at being made a pawn that could someday rise to queen of the chessboard. Providing, of course, that I was too star struck to retain my independent thought. Glinda would have fit into her plan quite nicely, except that she couldn't read the Grimmerie and according to Morrible had no talent.
No, that lovely burden fell to me. The reason those poor Monkeys were mutilated and unable to speak was because of me. Glinda would have said I wasn't as responsible as Morrible had proclaimed, but my ignorance of an affect made me no less guilty. Maybe I could help them after things died down a bit. There were bound to be records of where they were sent... But it would have to wait. Going to the Emerald Palace or even Shiz for that matter, was unthinkable.
No one would harm Glinda or Nessa... Nessa! I'd promised Father I'd look after her, it was the only reason I'd been sent to Shiz! I had always looked after my sister! She expected it of me. I expected it of me! And she was so upset when I'd last seen her! But no... no... heart rate return to normal. She would be fine. Madame Morrible, or one of the classmates that had taken to coddling her, or even Boq would see to it.
Boq and I hadn't been close, so no worries there. Glinda had made her choice. Unbidden, partly unwanted, my thoughts turned to Fiyero. The flowers he'd given me wouldn't last much longer after the buffeting they'd received. I kicked my broom and watched it glumly as it rolled from view. They weren't those kind of flowers! I chided. Fiyero loved Glinda; it was as simple as that. Besides, I'd botched any chance of a love life several hours ago.
Enough brooding. The path I'd set my sights on wasn't going to be easy, but nothing in my life had ever been. And the people I cared about would be safer without me. Now exactly where in Oz was I going to go after tonight? If the inhabitants of the Emerald City were calling me Wicked when I'd left, the news would undoubtedly circulate. But I could worry about that later. Exhaustion settled over me like a second cape as the final dregs of triumphant euphoria fizzled away. Spreading my cape on the ground I retrieved my broom, took off my hat, unbraided my hair and managed to crawl under the makeshift cover before sleep claimed me.
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The bluebird alighted on a rooftop, eyes darting hither and thither. Admittedly its gaze wasn't so much darting as drifting idly from one form to another. But that was to be expected. Being conspicuous--especially here--could be dangerous, and tracking a train on little sleep couldn't be called simple. After seeing neither of its quarry for some minutes the bluebird stretched its wings, intending to have a long chat with the mice on its return, but paused with one wing unfurled.
Three humans approached from the direction of the train station, a prominent head of blond curls at its center. The one in the lead was an old woman, looking harried and stern; the other, a boy, of age with the golden-haired peer. And not a soul in emerald green livery. Settling down to roost, the bluebird released a breath it hadn't known it held. This venture might be worth it after all.