Chapter Three

She woke while it was still dark out. Something had woken her. Which was a shame, because her dreams had been so pleasant. Half-formed things with music she couldn't remember now.

She dressed by candlelight, still not trusting the electric lights of her room, more modern than at her own home.

The clock on her nightstand told her classes didn't start for another hour, yet she wondered if it was too early to go down and hunt for breakfast. She figured she'd give herself the time anyway, since the school seemed to be built like a labyrinth.

She dressed in one of her nicer dresses, a pale pink, and quickly curled her hair using a spell she'd worked out herself. She hoped to make a good impression, at the very least, a better one than she had seemed to make yesterday. She hoped she'd at least find some opportunity today to get to know the other girls in her major, or the ones worth knowing. Now that she was among girls who shared her interests, perhaps... perhaps she'd be able to have a friend.

Oh, but friends were a luxury she couldn't afford, especially not somewhere as cutthroat as Shiz. At the least she could enhance her own social station, her mother would be happy about that.

Yes, that was what she would do. She would find the girls worth knowing and seek them out, become acquaintances with them, learn the secrets of the school and make it her own. It was only her first year, after all. What more could she want?

And there were secrets, she knew that much. There were things hiding in those long corridors and passages, and she wanted to learn them all.

But first, breakfast.

Glinda suspected the spellwork students had already begun their magic; the dining hall was subsequently much easier to find than she'd thought. There were buffets of hot food, and only a few other students around. Glinda's mouth watered at the smells.

Back home, her Amas had always cooked for her, or a servant. The buffet style here was new, but she found herself almost drooling over all of the possibilities. Three different kinds of eggs! Including one, she saw, from an ostrich (Oz she hoped it wasn't an Ostrich,) a hot oatmeal filled with spices that made her mouth water, rows and rows of fresh fruit that wasn't in season yet looked like it had been freshly harvested.

She didn't even know where to start.

"I'd go for the oatmeal," a voice said next to her, and Glinda jumped. It was Leroux, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. "Trust me, you'll want something that sticks more than just fruit."

"Thanks," Glinda said, and reached for the spoon. But Leroux gently touched her arm, and Glinda felt some sort of electricity zing through her at that.

"The servants will get it," she said, in a voice that had perhaps uttered that phrase thousands of other times. Not in a proud way, just in a way that was used to being shown respect.

"Oh," Glinda said, and looked at the girl across from her. Her straw-colored hair was tied into a knot on the nape of her neck, her head covered by a kerchief. "Um. Oatmeal please," she said.

The girl nodded and handed Glinda her bowl, looking her in the eye and smiling briefly before bowing her head again.

"She's a sprachlos," Leroux said as they walked away. Glinda frowned at her. "You know, the voiceless?"

"Oh," Glinda whispered. She knew. Girls with undesirable reputations, girls who had accused men of awful things, rumor was in some old parts of Oz their tongues were cut out. She'd never heard of it happening in Gillikin, and she thought, perhaps naively, that it could not happen in Shiz, so close to the Emerald City.

But perhaps that girl wasn't even from the Emerald City. The diminuitive features would suggest Munchkinland, though her ruddy cheeks could have just as easily been Quadling Country.

"How..." Glinda swallowed, her own tongue sticking in her throat. "What happened to her?"

Leroux shrugged. "Dunno. She's been here since I started."

"Do you know her name?" Glinda asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"I think it's Meg," Leroux said. "Though I could be wrong." She nudged Glinda. "How's your first morning at Shiz going?"

"If the food is any indication, it's going to go well," she said, swallowing down her guilt at how quickly Leroux could change the subject. "What's your first class?"

"I have private lessons," Leroux said. "And preparation for the auditions for the Winter Showcase."

"I didn't know they did that."

"For seniors, they do," she said. "Apparently a lot of scouts from Oz come to that Showcase. They want to give us seniors our best chance, particularly if we're all vying for a solo. Though even for younger girls it's supposed to be quite an opportunity-showing your voice off in front of some of the masters of Oz."

"How many spots are there?"

"That's the thing," Leroux said. "Historically there have only been six. Rumor's been floating around since you arrived they'll be adding seven."

Glinda's cheeks colored. "Me?"

"Apparently, you're that good," Leroux said. "Though to be honest, I wouldn't bet on it. Not-not even trying to be rude, but even as talented as I'm sure you are, Morrible wouldn't dare risk giving a spot to an underling girl. The seniors would revolt, and there's competition enough among them."

"Oh," Glinda said. And for a minute, the bubble of elation that had sprung up in her chest popped, but only for a moment. Her voice was what had gotten her to Shiz, sure, but the more she thought about it the more she wondered if it was really what she wanted to keep her there.

She thought again of the music she'd heard, the song in her head she'd woken up with. She wished she could remember it, wished desperately for that melody to come back, but no matter how hard she tried all throughout breakfast, it never came back.

She was remarkably on time to class, even early by her own standards (and she could hear her mother's voice in her head saying how proud she was that Glinda was going to make a good first impression,) though she wasn't the first student. Her beginning Voice seminar was held in one of the old rehearsal rooms adjacent to the opera house, so close to the dorms Glinda wondered if it was another act of sorcery.

It was a small classroom, wooden floors and paneled walls for optimal acoustics, though the piano sitting in the corner looked like it could have come from Lurlinist days. Glinda hoped desperately it was in tune.

There was a group of girls in the far corner already, girls Glinda recognized from the assembly that morning. There were three of them, their heads bent together, seemingly already knowing each other. The pale girl whose back was to Glinda had long, light brown hair and a rich green dress that suggested Emerald City style. To her right stood a girl with deeply tan skin and black hair, close-cropped and wound into tight curls. Her dress was plainer than the girl next to her, but still nice-Vinkan, maybe? And the girl to the left had blonde hair almost as fair as Glinda's own, woven back into two intricate plaits, pale skin with red undertones. Her dress was the nicest of all of them, even Glinda could see that immediately. It was a shimmering midnight blue, and by all accounts should have been too fancy for Shiz, but on her it looked right.

They all turned when Glinda came in, chattering immediately ceasing. Glinda felt like they were a pack of hyenas, all shiny teeth and smiles, but they would rip her in two if she crossed them. She felt even more self-conscious then about her dress, her hair, about fitting in and living up to the standards Shiz had set.

What was she doing? She didn't belong here.

The middle girl, the tall pale one, strode towards Glinda and stuck out her hand. "Shenshen, of Phan Hall," she said. She didn't wait for Glinda's response, just took her hand and shook it—perhaps a little too hard? "And this is Milla, of The Lesser Kells," the curly-haired girl to Shenshen's right, "and Pfannee, of Nest Hardings." The girl in the expensive dress.

The other girls didn't move, though Glinda saw them exchange a glance.

"Glinda, of Gillikin," she said.

"Oh, we know," Pfannee purred, and she and Milla dissolved into giggles. "So tell us, are you going to magick us silent?"

Glinda's cheeks flamed. Magick, spellwork—she'd thought these things would be accepted at Shiz, even if they were still looked at sideways within the greater city of Oz. Apparently these girls were from some of the more conservative families.

Glinda was saved a response by Madame Morrible sweeping into the room. She swallowed. She hadn't realized the Head would be teaching this course, would be overseeing the first-years. She'd thought she was too important for that.

More girls had filed in, and Glinda took a seat in the back, hoping to not call attention to herself. Pfannee, Milla, and Shenshen all sat together, each occasionally turning back to look at Glinda before dissolving into silent laughter again.

Morrible went through and explained how the semester would work, and their classes.

"I would like to officially put the rumor to rest about the Winter Showcase," she said, and each girl's head snapped up to look at her. "There will be, in fact, seven positions open this year. Only one is open to an underclassman. We'd like to give some of you a chance to be seen. Whoever is chosen for the Showcase will receive private tutoring from myself and Dr. Rafael, one of the best vocal teachers in the Emerald City."

Chatter broke out among the girls again. Dr. Rafael was considered not only the best vocal teacher in the Emerald City, but perhaps the best in the entire land of Oz. Even Glinda, who at this point wasn't so bent on her voice, felt a little leap of hope in her chest.

To be noticed like that, to be special… Oz, it would be so wonderful.

Morrible waved her hand and the talk died at once.

"I'd like to get an assessment of your vocal range before we start," she said. "And as you may have guessed, I will not be teaching this class this semester—Professor Engels will. But I thought it important for me, as your Head, to be here on the first day. I consider myself a great nurturer of talent," here she paused for dramatic emphasis, "and am thrilled to see all that our school has to offer. Up first—Miss Arduenna?"

Glinda felt her hands shake. Logically, she told herself that she was going first because of her last name, clearly Morrible was going in alphabetical order, but it still felt like some sort of test, some way for Morrible to show her how much she knew about Glinda.

Glinda stood and walked down to the front of the classroom, head held high as she passed Shenshen and the others, who immediately broke out into whispers again. A young woman sat at the piano—Professor Engels, perhaps?—and nodded at Glinda.

"Vocal exercises first, then I assume you're familiar with the traditional Gillikinese aria Longing?" Morrible asked.

"Yes ma'am," Glinda said. She cleared her throat, and the pianist began a range of scales—simple enough for Glinda to keep up with. She sang softly at first, but as the notes grew higher she felt her voice wanting to stretch to its full potential, and so she did. She soared on the high notes, even though they were scales, pushing her voice as high as it would go.

Oh, she did love this. She loved architecture, and felt she knew it in her bones, but there was something about singing that did make her soul feel at peace.

And then the aria. It started off simply, it was one Glinda had heard growing up in her childhood. While not technically difficult, there was so much emotion inside it that one really had to pay attention to when singing. Because the aria it self was so simple, if the meaning was lost, it could quickly slip into the territory of being boring.

But if there was one thing Glinda knew about, it was longing. Wanting. Hoping a lover or someone would still remember you when you were gone.

She landed on that last high note and held it, controlling her voice until the end when she let it quietly fade.

Glinda opened her eyes. The entire room had gone silent. Even the three girls who'd been bothering her earlier were staring at her with a mixture of jealousy and awe.

Was this what it was like to feel admired? Special?

"Marvelous," Madame Morrible said, her voice booming throughout the space, and Glinda smiled. "Absolutely marvelous, my dear. One would think you've been blessed with the voice of Ozma herself."

Warmth spread throughout Glinda at the praise.

If this was what it was like to feel special, to feel admired, then she never wanted to let go of the feeling.

She took her seat, settling in to listen to the rest of the girls. One by one the other girls came up and sang, and Glinda felt a stirring of pride at the fact that no one, none of them were as good as she was.