Fiyero felt haunted by the Witch's violent refusal of his gift, and the bruise on his side never failed to remind him of the ill-fated encounter. He let it guide his actions, understanding that where he had screwed up was where he refused to follow the rules. He spend his day of forced leisure without visible complaint; he went to the library, an aging, run-down and underfunded building that had obviously seen better days, and found a few mouse-eaten copper-novels he knew he would be able to understand. While he was literate, he wasn't quite the best reader, but now he blessed the soul of his grandmother for forcing him to learn. The rest of the day was spent scoping out the room, finding all the nooks and loose floorboards Matter had told him about. About half the compartments he found were already occupied, including one with Matter's comb in it, but a fair amount of them were still empty. He bought dinner late in the afternoon, but still found he had a decent amount of silver left. It made him wonder how others in his occupation spent their gold so that they continued to work for the Witch, grateful for when they got bonuses. How many lived above their means? How many lived below?
Having been completely alone most of the day, Fiyero was grateful for the chance to get to Court and see other people. He mingled among others, officially introducing himself to a few (a pair called Thorn and Hemlock; a set of hefty muggers). Midway through a story about a lady who had been carrying three platinums, Ax approached Fiyero and hit him on the arm.
"Your loot cleared two hundred golds," Ax said. "That's what we usually bring in all together in one day. And from what I hear from the others, yesterday was a good day… We might make over five golds apiece." Ax started story-telling about the tale he had spun for the jeweler–that his house had burned down and all they had managed to save was the jewelry, but none of the authentication papers, and that the jeweler had agreed to pay him in golds for easy division in Court, assuming Ax had bills to pay. Fiyero didn't pay much attention, waiting for Court to begin. Finally, out of boredom, Fiyero tapped Ax for attention.
"Was whatever you had to do last night finished, or can you still not help tomorrow?"
"Oh, it was last night," Ax said, shifting uncomfortably. "But the sooner you learn to get ready by yourself, the better. There's a water pump where East Street crosses twentieth, and the crate with the suit has a red stripe on it." Fiyero nodded, wondering what it was that Ax had been called to do. Whatever he was, he was secretive about it. The thieves all cashed in, with Fiyero feeling rather left out. It was almost as if he was looking in on a family dinner while he was alone outside. The rents were counted out, and the Witch asked for it all to be counted before being divided.
"We've cleared five hundred," Ax reported. "Five twelve, to be exact." A cheer rose up through the hall, and Ax tried to shift the glory to Fiyero. The Vinkan merely waved, glancing nervously at the Witch. Taking the spotlight would earn more punishment, he could tell.
"Order!" the Witch called. She lifted her hand and a small explosion of flame, like a firework, appeared above the crowd, resounding with the same intensity of a gunshot. "Order!"
And there was order. The Witch went on to describe the tale of the ancient famine, a religious story Fiyero recognized when a balding Unionist missionary had visited his village, failing to find converts. It described how the Ozma received strange visions, and a farm boy interpreted them to mean great bounty was coming, followed by terrible famine, and with careful planning many lives were saved. The thieves listened dutifully, before Ax spoke.
"What are you suggesting?" he asked.
"I am suggesting caution," the Witch said. "As Diamond is showing that he can bring large sums to the Court, we must be wary so that we won't be shell-shocked if it disappears."
"Have you seen something that might mean Diamond won't last?" a voice called out.
"No," the Witch said, somewhat to Fiyero's relief. "But just because I don't see it doesn't mean it can't happen. I propose taking an extra thirty golds to reserve now, and I urge you all to set some aside for a barren day."
"Why are we always putting stuff in reserve?" someone complained from a dark corner.
"Who spoke?" the Witch said lowly. "Come forward if you wish to have that question answered." Apparently the question was not as urgent as it had been thought, and everyone stayed back. "Pay them. Zone one!"
Fiyero did end up paid that day, and received four golds. This was bordering on ridiculous; since he didn't have to worry about paying for a room, Fiyero barely knew what to do with the money. He could invest some in his act; buy dinky favors and coffees for his marks or something… No.
He would make amends.
The months rolled by, with life setting into a relatively leisurely routine for Fiyero. Every other day he would work, and he experienced the touristic joys of the City while taking joy in closing the income gap, however illegally. He didn't take extra time to show off all he had acquired; he smoothed it all out before Court was called and quietly passed it off to Ax before settling back in the shadows. He learned the zones and where they stretched to, and how many people could work each zone. The Witch also seemed to pick on him less; she didn't remind Fiyero of probation of the off days, and for the most part ignored him. On the off days, he mostly read cheap thrill novels from the shabby library, and could almost feel his reading speed increasing and vocabulary expanding. He managed to replace his old pants and shirt before his shoes needed attention. Rarely speaking about the Witch anymore, he learned more about his roommates and friends; Avatar was Gillkinese, but dyed his hair with semi-regularity to throw off people on the lookout for a regular street hawker. Mind and Matter had once had their own identities (Mind was called Jackal; Matter had been called Enigma), but they had appealed for change after meeting each other. Ax used to have a Pathetic Child act; he would steal from someone and let the mark catch him, playing off the fact he was so short and young-looking to receive food or spare change. As he was starting to age out and look too old, he was made pawn-runner by the Witch. He and Fiyero were the same age, and the Vinkan continued to wonder how Ax became a pawn-runner when all of the others were easily ten years his senior.
Fiyero also ended up learning a lot more about how the Court itself worked. About a week after his acceptance, Fiyero had arrived in Court to find that the whore's platform was empty.
"Where are they?" Fiyero asked Ax, pointing to the platform.
"One of them got pregnant," Ax said, a hint of pity in his voice. "So they all stay home to assist with the miscarriage."
"The what?" Fiyero repeated in shock. Miscarriage?!
"Think about it," Ax said. "If one of them gets pregnant, and they let it live, then that's one girl who can't work for a year or more, a mouth to feed that can't help the sisterhood, and another bastard urchin in the streets. It also brings me back to how these girls are rich beyond the wildest dreams of street prostitutes. They get enough food each day to actually get pregnant, and can afford for all of them to stay home and help. Either it hurts or it's messy, I'm not sure, but they stay home until it's over."
"It's inhumane," Fiyero said, studying the empty platform. Killing unborn children just wasn't done back home.
"It's survival," Ax countered. "Would you kill an unborn baby or drag down a sisterhood of twenty adult women?" Fiyero had no response to that, and was saved trying to come up with one when the Witch called for order. The next day, the whores were back, and Fiyero wondered which one of them had been forced to kill their baby, and if she felt some sort of loss. None of them showed it if they did, but he guessed that was a part of their job. Nobody wanted to fuck a woman with baggage.
Three times the Court had to exert justice among itself; one of Glinda's whores had apparently been beaten by a customer, and the abuse had been reported. The girl had been brought forth, and under gentle questioning by the Witch, described her injuries. It was the only time Fiyero had ever seen the Witch show tenderness toward someone. The man was brought forward, and the Witch beat him in the same places where he had injured the girl. The terror on the man's face and the way he didn't fight back suggested magic. The other two crimes were instances of stealing from thieves; the thumbs on their opposite-dominant hands were broken, and the value of what was stolen was repaid.
Hemlock the mugger, the acquaintance of Fiyero's, disappeared. The word went around he was caught, and after that, he was never spoken of again.
Time passed, and despite outward appearances, Fiyero continued to harbor a fascination to the point of crush for the Witch. It was insane, he knew, but it gave his life a twisted purpose, and kept the monotony from growing too severe. Many a sleepless night, Fiyero would just lay there, staring at the empty bunk above him and waiting for sleep to finally claim him, thinking about his new life and how he was leading it. On these nights, he found that Switch and Mind breathed in perfect tandem: a snore from the pawn-runner quickly followed by a breathy exhale from the black-haired thief. You could set a clock to it. One night, Fiyero started when he saw Matter gingerly creep over Mind and cross to Fiyero's bed. The Vinkan thief sat up as Matter seated himself at the foot of Fiyero's bed.
"You're not asleep," Matter whispered. Fiyero shook his head. "You've been having bad dreams."
"You can tell?" Fiyero asked, somewhat ashamed. Matter nodded.
"You keep asking for someone to tell you their name, when you're asleep. And you twitch." Matter said, imitating the twitch.
"Great, now I sleep-talk," Fiyero mumbled.
"It's not every night," Matter said consolingly. "I'll take three guesses as to who you're asking to be properly introduced to, and I'll pretend the first two don't count. You want to know the Witch's name." Fiyero shifted, glad that it was dark and Matter couldn't see his face clearly.
"Doesn't everyone want to know the Witch's name?" Fiyero avoided the question.
"Yes, but we all want to know each other's names. It's human curiosity," Matter said. "To actually share your birth name with someone else is a lot like tying the knot, but it's deeper than a set of rings. It means no more secrets, no more fake faces, and no more lies, and you promise to be who you truly are when you're with that person forever. And imagine breaking up with a person who knows your name and could use it against you at any moment, especially if that person is jealous or resentful."
"Do you know Mind's name?" Fiyero asked. Matter sighed romantically.
"Yeah…" Matter said. "It was the happiest day of my life when we traded names." Fiyero looked down, wishing that he could put up the guards he wore during the day in his sleep and avoid awkward conversations like this in the middle of the night.
"Don't despair, my friend," Matter said consolingly. "If there is anyone in all of Oz that could can make the Witch share her name, it's you." Fiyero pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes.
"That makes it sound like I'm torturing her, forcing her to tell it to me." Matter leaned in a little.
"I've traded names with Mind, don't forget that," Matter said. "But you are one sexy hunk of Winkie wrongdoer. When the time comes, she will be forced to tell you her name." Fiyero started laughing. "I shit you not! You're one of the hottest males in Court!" The mirth died down a second later for fear of waking Switch and Mind.
"It's just I keep thinking about what Switch said on day one," Fiyero said. "She doesn't let just anyone mess around with her heart."
"Well, you're not just anyone, now are you?" Matter said. "I found a stash of golds yesterday. No, I didn't take any; I like my thumbs. Point is, they're not Mind's, they're not mine, and I don't think Switch is into saving, so they're yours. What are you saving for?"
Fiyero told him about his first day working, how he had held back a string of pearls to give to the Witch, and how she had nearly killed him when he tried to give them to her.
"So you're saving to get her something more legit?" Matter said. "Aww… That's so romantic!"
"Shut up," Fiyero felt his face grow hot. Speaking to Matter was almost like speaking to a girl. An embarrassingly gossipy girl.
"Well, it is!" Matter insisted. "Mind saved up to buy me this coat, and I wear it to death." Matter tugged on the lapel of the trench coat. "It was right before he told me his name, he gave me this coat. I love it almost as much as him." Fiyero looked at the lump in his blanket that represented his feet.
"I don't think I could get the Witch a coat," Fiyero said.
"Something simple, though," Matter said. "Jewelry, but make sure it's simple. The whores go for big and flashy things. And tag a practical use to it."
Fiyero leaned back, still thinking of all that Matter had told him. A way to make the jewelry practical was easy, but he just felt so nervous about actually approaching the Witch.
"Hey," the gay thief said. "If you ever have trouble getting to sleep, I'll share something with you," Matter hopped off of Fiyero's bed and counted out floorboards, lifting a section and pulling out a bottle.
"It's beer," Matter promised, shaking the bottle. The liquid inside sloshed around with plenty of space. "Just enough to tire you out while not enough to give you a noticeable hangover the next morning. An Oz-send on nights you can't sleep," Matter handed the bottle to Fiyero. "Just if you're thinking of taking regularly, make sure you give back a little."
"I'll be sure," Fiyero said, taking a swig. It wasn't the coldest thing he had ever tasted, but it would definitely serve the purpose Fiyero wanted it to.
"'Night, Diamond!" Matter called softly, climbing back into bed with Mind.
"'Night, Matter," Fiyero responded, swigging again. There wasn't much there, but Fiyero could feel it beginning to help. He finally lay back and willed sleep to come, and wasn't disappointed.
Matter sat with Mind's arm around him, watching the people strolling in one of the City's struggling parks. He pulled the coat Mind had bought him tighter, lazing in how warm it was.
"I love the coat," Matter said again.
"You do, do you?" Mind said thoughtfully. "Do you love me?"
"Absolutely," Matter said, worried that Mind doubted him. "We've gone by without coats and fancy things like that, and I've loved you that whole while."
"You keep saying you love the coat," Mind pointed out.
"It's because it's new, and it's warm," Matter pulled it tighter around him. "And it feels like I'm in your arms." Mind smiled, the beautiful toothless smile that Matter loved.
"I'm going to tell you my name," Mind said. Matter sat up, taking Mind's hands.
"You're sure?"
"I was sure I wanted to tell you the moment I met you. I just had to know if you would want me to."
"I want you to…" Mind started trembling, and Matter trembled along with him.
"My name is Tibbet." Matter smiled, leaning in to kiss Tibbet.
"Tibbet," he said, giving him a kiss on the nose. "Tibbet," he moved to the cheeks. "Tibbet…"Tibbet stopped him.
"I know my name," Tibbet said.
"I didn't," Matter said. "And it's making me less nervous."
"You don't have to be nervous," Tibbet said. "I'm yours forever." Matter took a deep breath.
"My name is Crope," Crope said.
The two shared their first kiss as Crope and Tibbet.