Glinda walked quickly, hands thrust deep into her muff as a biting wind cut through her coat, in spite of its thickness. It seemed ludicrous that they - final year Sorcery students, less than one month shy of graduating - were being made to walk through what could practically be called tundra.
"It builds character, girls!" Miss Greyling said when Shenshen voiced Glinda's thoughts. "You won't amount to much if you allow your skills to let you become idle."
"Who says we want to 'amount' to anything?" Pfannee muttered to Glinda. "I've been betrothed since I was seven years old. I can't wait to take my place as one of the idle rich."
Glinda rolled her eyes, though vocally she concurred. "Why else have we worked for so long, perfecting our art, if not to make life easier for ourselves?"
"Speaking of making life easier," Shenshen said, falling back into step with them when Miss Greyling turned a deaf ear to her continued grievances, "Pfannee and I aren't staying in that dreadful hovel another night. Papa's wired me the money, and I've booked us into a private suite down on Plumble way. Won't you join us, Glinda - for old times' sake?"
"Miss Greyling said yes?" asked Pfannee. Shenshen nodded.
"She's 'disappointed in our lack of school spirit' or something, but as we're all over nineteen now, Shiz can't force her guardianship upon us. Well?" She turned back to Glinda, who was contemplating the idea. 'Oldtimes' sounded nice in theory, but she wasn't exactly certain that she cared for their reprisal. Though truthfully, anything would be better than the digs they were staying in.
"Glinda, honestly, do you want to stay in that flea-ridden ice-chest with someone like Lusa taking up all your breathing space?"
(Lusa, Glinda's spell partner and roommate for the field trip, was a little larger than most of the other girls. If one listened to Pfannee and Shenshen - as Glinda once had - she was the size of Mount Runcible.)
"I think I'd prefer to stay with the class, it'll be easier," Glinda explained. "We have the Ancient Magic Museum visit tomorrow, and -"
"The optional visit," stressed Pfannee. "Everything after today is 'recommended but not required' - meaning one can go with the group, or in their own time, or -"
"Or not at all, because who'd bother with the Architecture Gallery when there's a half dozen boutiques on our block alone?"
Glinda smiled wanly, wondering if Shenshen had meant that as a jibe or not. After all their years of friendship, she was still not able to tell.
"Alright - but tomorrow," said Glinda, because another gust of wind had pierced her stockings, and the heating in their inn was quite woeful. "I know you girls don't care for vaudeville, but I'm going to the Music Hall tonight with the others, and I'd rather take the cab back with them than wander off to locate you two on my own."
"Mind you don't forget," Shenshen said firmly, as at last they began to mount the stairs to the Modern Sorcery and Magical Arts Museum, which, despite its name, was housed in a beautifully restored Bloodstone Medieval mansion. "I expect we'll stay in until at least eleven, and I'll leave details at the concierge so you can find us for lunch if you come later. Ugh," she wrinkled her nose at a granite roc, carved cleverly into one of the columns atop the staircase. "What a horrid old building."
"Hmm," Glinda mused, pulling out her writing tablet and just barely stifling a giggle when the words 'Shenshen is a dimwit' appeared on its bewitched surface. She hastily wiped it clean, sternly reminding herself to think only academic thoughts for the remainder of the tour.
Glinda couldn't decide which was more fascinating - the contents of the museum, or the museum itself. The floors were marble, laced with golden spiders, some of which almost appeared to form words until Glinda blinked and they became random swirls again. Miss Greyling caught her staring and sidled up to her, saying quietly, "It's the true language of spells - no one of our world can read it, though those truly gifted with magic can make out parts."
"Can one learn?" asked Glinda.
"If one has that much determination, it is possible. But you'd need to really want to be able to read it - a life's goal kind of thing. Many who have tried have dedicated their whole lives to it and still died before barely understanding a quarter."
Glinda watched as a golden thread looped around, almost showed her something, then changed its mind. "I guess I don't want to read it all that much."
Miss Greyling laughed. "Few do, once they understand the difficulties. And many of those who do want to for all the wrong reasons, and the language knows that too, Glinda. It won't show itself for anyone less than worthy."
Glinda knelt down, in the middle of the grand hall, touching the floor. It felt no different to the marbled surfaces in her grandmother's bathroom, yet still she shivered.
"Have you considered post-graduate studies, Glinda?" Miss Greyling asked, watching in amusement as Glinda rose to her feet. "You would easily get into the magical history class, and I take a unit within that on the lost language of spells. Don't tell anyone, but it's a bit of a bludge - we mainly just sit around and discuss theories over coffee."
Glinda smiled, but thoughtfully. "I should..."
"You should," Miss Greyling agreed. "Don't let anybody else prevent you from doing what you wish to, even if it's not the fashionable choice." She chuckled when Glinda blushed. "My dear, I was young too, once. I'm in room 317 at the inn if you wish to have an informal chat about things - that is, if you're planning on staying with us," she added with a knowing grin.
"I am," Glinda replied, and Miss Greyling gave her shoulder a pat.
"Good girl. Now, you know the way back? I'll be leaving shortly with whoever else wants to, but you're most welcome to stay until closing, or wander off elsewhere if you prefer. The dinner service isn't until seven, so you needn't fret about being late."
"Thankyou - I would like to stay here a little longer," Glinda replied. She watched Miss Greyling stroll off with the majority of the class, before dropping to her knees again and all but pressing her nose to the floor, studying the various loops and curls. She wondered what type of person would make reading this their life's goal, and what kind of person the language would deem worthy. How awful to be the first, yet not the second!
After a half hour of crawling, Glinda finally paid heed to the growling of her stomach and made her exit from the museum. She could always come back - Miss Greyling would definitely understand if she didn't care to visit the Sorcerer's Memorial, or the Magical Technology Centre.
It was still light when she arrived outside, but only just. The museum wasn't in the best area of town and Glinda hurried a little, almost wishing she had left with the others. The army presence in the city was high - certainly, the last time she had been there it had been practically non-existent - but this only made Glinda feel uneasy. What sort of place was it now, that it required stationed soldiers and mounted patrols before nightfall?
Glinda's mind didn't choose to ponder this, however, instead returning to her ill choice for an idle thought: the last time she had been in the Emerald City. With Elphaba. The usual pang that accompanied thoughts of her roommate was deeper now, at the realisation that she was where Elphaba was, separated by only a few hundred thousand citizens rather than the usual, impassable, distance.
Dinner was both hot and delicious - a hearty meat and four veg that was perhaps not as classy but definitely more filling than the smoked salmon and avocado tarts that Pfannee and Shenshen were surely dining on. Her stomach full to bursting, Glinda thoroughly enjoyed the first act of that evening's entertainment, even if their group had all been separated, and she was wedged in between a woman who snorted when she laughed (which was often) and an elderly gentleman who would hum along with all of the songs he knew (which was all of them).
Glinda stepped outside during the interval to get some air, deciding to take a stroll down to the canal while she was at it. The streetlamps danced gaily on the water like miniature fireworks, their rippling patterns as mesmerising as the floor of the museum had been. She smiled at them wistfully as a pair of boots clumped past behind her.
"You know what? If anybody could decipher that language it'd be you, Elphie," she said, her voice apparently startling the passerby, who stumbled before resuming with a quickened pace. Tossing a pebble into the water, Glinda turned to head back to the theatre, drawing up short in astonishment when she caught sight of the boot-wearer, who was striding swiftly towards the dock.
He or she was dressed from head to toe in black, with a hooded cape masking whatever figure and hairstyle they might have had, but their gait was so uncannily familiar - funny, to recognise a walk after over a year, but recognise it Glinda did. Shaking herself into action, she dashed after the disappearing shadow.
"Elphaba?" she called out when a little closer. Though the person stiffened, they didn't stop. The fact that they could merely have been surprised at Glinda's voice did pass through her mind, but the thought was fleeting. Glinda sped up.
"Elphaba!" she called out again, and the person sped up too, but held out an arm, crooked backwards at the elbow. The hand, unmistakably, beckoned. Heart pounding, Glinda watched the figure round a bend and then halt, its motionless shadow spilling out in the moonlight.
All she could see, at first, was the nose. But that was enough.
"Elphie..."
"You can't follow me any further," Elphaba said fiercely. "I won't have it; it's not safe. Do you understand?" But before Glinda could even reply, she began to march off again. Stung, Glinda grabbed at her.
"No. I don't understand."
"Glinda, I really don't have the time for this. Just go back to wherever it is you came from and leave me be. You're putting yourself in unnecessary danger here."
"I don't care," Glinda stated boldly. "Elphie -"
"Well I do. Please, just go. Or let me."
Glinda let go, sadly. When she didn't speak, Elphaba gave a tiny sigh.
"I'm sorry Glinda, truly I am. But our paths simply can't cross anymore." She hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed Glinda's forehead before turning to walk off.
"Elphie, please don't leave me again," Glinda pleaded softly. "I'm so lost."
It was barely five seconds, but it felt more like an hour, and Elphaba was beside her again, arms folded impatiently. It was a stance Glinda knew all too well - the one that meant she was about to give in, as much as she loathed (or said she loathed) to.
"This goes quite a long way against my better judgment," she told Glinda. "Come on. Quickly - and put up your hood."
Though startled at how quickly Elphaba had yielded, Glinda hastily obeyed. "Elphie?"
"Don't speak," Elphaba snapped. She reached back to take Glinda's hand, forcing her to walk faster. Silent but for their footsteps and Glinda's laboured breathing, they made their way along a maze of docks and over a bridge, then down a street so steep that it had stairs cut into its sidewalk. The streetlamps were few and far between here, and most were unlit in any case. Terrified, Glinda tightened her hold on Elphaba, hurt when the girl instantly pulled free - but no, she was just ferreting for a key, Glinda soon noticed. They had paused outside an old mill, the entrance to which Elphaba was now unlocking. She glanced around quickly before pushing Glinda inside, bolting the door behind her.
"Where -"
"Hush."
They went down a mildewed flight of stairs, coming to another door. Behind this - which Elphaba also bolted securely - was a tiny apartment, furnished with crates, and a mattress in one corner. Glinda stood nervously by the door as Elphaba lit four or five rather hefty candles, then shucked off her cape. She knelt down in front of a small grate, peering inside a saucepan that had been left atop it. "Hungry?"
"No."
"Well you must at least be cold. Come over here."
There was a tiny fire in the grate, which Elphaba stoked expertly as Glinda crouched down beside her. The room was already growing warm, though perhaps this was mostly due to its poor ventilation. There was only one window, high on the wall above the bed, barely the size of a shoebox. When she saw the mangy paws of a stray dog suddenly trot past, Glinda realised that it must be street-level.
"Why did you change your mind?" she asked cautiously, warming her hands.
"You said you were lost, and I couldn't leave you outside all night with no clue where you were," Elphaba said briskly, reaching for a small canister. "I would never have been able to forgive myself."
"Oh Elphie...not that kind of lost," Glinda chuckled softly, stilling her when she saw barely three spoonfuls of coffee in the container. "No, none for me."
Elphaba gave her a small smile. "Well, I guess I just barged in again, didn't I? Dare I ask what kind of lost you were referring to?"
"Lost without you," Glinda told her. Elphaba looked a little surprised, but didn't make any comment. "You abandoned me, Elphie, and you know what? That hurt. Why did you do it? That's all I want to know."
"I didn't think you'd care so much," Elphaba said, puzzled.
"Oh Elphie," Glinda laughed, sighing. "How did you never realise what I felt for you?"
Elphaba shrugged, reaching out to stroke a tiny white kitten that had just slunk past. Haughtily, it sidestepped her, giving Glinda an equally wide berth as it went to investigate a bowl beside one of the crates.
"Me?" Elphaba asked. "I didn't think I was more than just a roommate to you. And an eventual friend," she added, when Glinda almost reeled back from shock. "But you have other friends - one more or less doesn't make much difference, does it?"
"You're worth ten of Pfannee, and a dozen of Shenshen," Glinda said. "Elphie, I..." She glanced down, playing with Elphaba's hand; twisting her fingers around her own. She couldn't remember when she'd started holding it, or if Elphaba had reached for her first - it had just happened, like all those nights on the road when she had awoken to find them hand in hand. "I love you, you silly thing."
"I don't understand," Elphaba replied, frowning. "Why me? What did I do?"
"Nothing. You were just you."
Elphaba appeared to ponder this. However when she spoke again, it was to say, "You may stay tonight, but you must leave tomorrow, Glinda. And we can't see each other again. I'm sorry, and I really don't mean to hurt you, but it's simply far too dangerous."
"Why?"
"Nothing can connect you to me," Elphaba said simply. "I shouldn't have you here at all, and I only hope I don't live to regret this. Already nothing is safe for me; I can't make it that way for you, too."
"Is that the only reason?" Glinda asked. "For my safety? Because I don't care -"
"Well I do," Elphaba interrupted. She looked tired all of a sudden, and Glinda noticed how painfully hollow her face was. "That was why I had to leave you last year."
"So, if things weren't unsafe...what then?"
"Then I don't know," Elphaba replied. "What are you doing in the city anyway?"
"Sorcery trip," said Glinda, and Elphaba swore loudly. "What?"
"Well, won't somebody notice that you're missing?"
"Probably not. Pfannee and Shenshen just found themselves a private room, and I bet Miss Greyling will think I caved and went with them after all. And they'll think I'm a spoilsport and I stayed with the class," Glinda shrugged, yawning. "I won't be missed."
"Still, you're leaving tomorrow. And we should get some sleep now - and don't lie and say you're not tired, because I don't care. I am. I've had about three hours a night all week."
"Why?" Glinda asked, but Elphaba shook her head.
"I can't tell you, my sweet. When I say it's dangerous, I'm not exaggerating. If they knew I had a friend, they could use you to get to me..." She trailed off, shuddering.
"Who could?"
"The evil tree demons of Traum," Elphaba said seriously, chuckling when Glinda's eyes widened. "Glinda, I've said that I can't say, and I won't. Please don't ask me again."
"Alright."
They stood up and moved over to the bed, Elphaba blowing out her candles as they went. She handed Glinda a threadbare nightdress, which Glinda immediately recognised, recalling how she had huddled close to Elphaba in that very same gown, over a year ago now.
It seemed as though barely a day had passed when they lay down together, Elphaba's arms looping around Glinda almost instinctively. Glinda nestled closer though she was far from cold, registering sadly that it was not just Elphaba's face that had grown even thinner.
"I always thought I liked you a bit too much," Elphaba said softly, once they were settled.
"How do you mean?"
"A lot more than you liked me. I never dared to imagine you cared for my company - I thought you just learnt how to tolerate me better."
"Really? Really?" Glinda pressed, surprised.
"Well, if I'd let myself think more, I may have merely been setting myself up for a fall," Elphaba pointed out. "So if I ever did see anything in the way you looked at me, I put it down to me only seeing what I wanted, not what was actually there."
"Elphie, you idiot," Glinda sighed.
"Takes one to know one."
Glinda poked her. "We should have talked more like this last year."
"Perhaps," Elphaba considered. She chuckled softly.
"What is it?"
"How did you never see how devoted to you I was?"
Glinda smiled to herself. "Maybe I just thought it was your nature to behave that way."
Elphaba kissed her cheek, before bowing her head with the intention of allowing sleep to come soon. "Maybe it was. But only ever with you."