Disclaimer: BTW I don't own Wicked or anything. Also, I definitely don't own the line in this chapter about Kumbricia - that comes from the Wicked novel, page 176 in my hardcover edition: "Shard by shard she rearranges the world." It's the part of the Oziad that the Wizard recites to Elphaba. Therefore, it belongs to that wise and wily fellow, Gregory Maguire. Also: the spelling/grammar errors in the letter are intentional.

Many thanks to Meltalviel, who, contrary to popular belief, is not a computer but a fabulous beta!

It was a good thing that the play-noises Teneke's pups made were mostly too high pitched to be noticed over the din of the apartments around Boq's tiny room. Too tired to move, he sat on the floor, leaning back against the tiny cot with his legs stretched out before him, minding the Rat pups while Teneke slept.

Summer here was more unbearable than any he had been used to because of the closeness of the buildings on either side of the narrow streets, blocking any hint of a breeze at ground level and impeding it even on the rooftops. The heavy air inside the apartment made it difficult to breathe, but even if he could manage to force the jammed window open, he wouldn't – not when the sun stewed the waste-filled streets all day so that the pervading reek rose into the evening on shimmering waves of heat. Spending all day mucking out stables was almost a blessing in comparison; at least the pervasive sweet scent of straw and of horses was a familiar one. The pups clambered over his shoes and dared one another to jump off, growing bolder with every second they thought they weren't being watched.

"Careful, Eyal," said Boq, mechanically. "Don't push."

"Oisin pushed first," cried Eyal, and then they were all shoving one another and in danger of falling to the floor – not a long drop for anyone but a three-inch tall Rat – until their mother barked at them to calm down. Then they abruptly fell into a group sulk for a grand total of half a minute before endeavoring to leap from the toe of one shoe to the other.

"When are you going to open that thing?" Teneke asked, of the envelope he had spent all evening staring at. He suspected that she thought this was the same envelope he had been carrying everywhere in the last few weeks, the one with the official seal of the Emerald Palace and his name in Glinda's handwriting. Although he had made up his mind to throw it away at least a dozen times, it always ended up back in his coat pocket somehow, close at hand. And at least for now, he thought wearily, it would probably stay there.

This letter, on the other hand, he had found waiting for him today, when he stopped into the post office on a whim after work. It was from home.

"Right now," he said, not in any particular hurry. "In a moment." Immediately there was a tiny stampede of Rat pups to his side.

"May we help?"

"Please?"

Boq glanced over at Teneke, who had curled up again to sleep in her makeshift nest – the small side pocket of the bag containing his few belongings, padded with shredded paper and scraps of fabric and things she'd gathered – just under the head of the cot.

"Wish you wouldn't," came her muffled voice from somewhere in the shadows. "It's hard enough to teach them what they can and can't bite, now you've got them chewing things on command and before you know it your clothes will all be in shreds and only you to blame."

"I think they know the difference." Boq grinned conspiratorially at the gathered pups, and placed his hand palm-up on the floor behind them so they could climb on. He held them up before him as if they were on a platform in midair. Standing side by side on their hind legs, three of them could easily line up along his hand, with Blikk, the smallest of the litter, jostled off to the side and clinging somewhat bemusedly to Boq's wrist. Very soon they would be too big for this game, and probably think themselves too old for it, but for now…

After his mother had spoken, Eyal appeared to have something to add, but his closest brother tugged on his whiskers for a moment before he could wrench himself free. "Isi bit off a button from your shirt!" he squeaked. There was another outbreak of wrestling and squealing and another sudden silence when Boq briefly cupped his other hand over the one they were standing on. They lined up again neatly as if nothing had happened.

"Honestly, you four. Your mama is trying to sleep. And no one likes a tattletale," Boq told Eyal (who wrung his tail in his paws, repentant). "If you'll all promise to stay quiet, I'll let you help me open the letter."

Each pup in turn covered his mouth with two velvety pink paws to show his compliance. So Boq held the envelope up to them and, all in a row, they gnawed on the top for a few moments, their teeth clicking busily until the envelope was open. Then with another round of barely-muffled squeals, they tumbled out of his hand and onto his shirt front to begin climbing again.

Boq unfolded the letter – it had a few tiny bite-marks taken from the middle, but not much the worse for wear, really – and steeled himself to read it.

Boq,

Your last letter was rather short, I do hope every thing is all right. We are all well though the weather has been worrying, especially for dad who is allready in a state for reasons you know. There's not enough rain to do any good and the heat is something awful. Norin complains constantly but how is that any different than usual really?

You need not worry that dad will read your letters. Write what ever you wish. Mama does read them though – she tells me now to remind you to eat. I am not sure how you might forget to eat, but if you are that absent-minded perhaps you'd better write yourself a note just in case.

The money you sent did arrive safely.

We all hope that you will come home soon. And keep yourself well.

With love – your sister,

Abbey

He released a held breath in a rush. None of it was really surprising. His father was still upset with him; that was to be expected, although the implication that he wasn't even acknowledging Boq's letters was troubling. If the weather in Munchkinland kept up this way, no amount of extra effort would keep the crops from failing, and he was useless here either way. All the guilt and shame he had been fighting off since seeing his sister's familiar handwriting addressed to him returned in force.

He didn't know what to do now. What he thought he wanted, stupid as the delusion had been, wasn't what he thought it was. All that was left was to admit defeat and go home. They would be expecting him, anyway. He could explain what had happened (they had all predicted it before he did, hadn't they?) accept their forgiveness with as much grace as he could muster, and – what? Shoulder to the plough, pretend he had never made such an embarrassing mistake, someday inherit the land from his father and run the farm himself. He could do it. There had been a time when he had even been eager to undertake that responsibility. Even now, he thought, it might turn out all right.

Except – he tossed the letter aside in frustration – except that it meant negating this whole chapter of his life. It meant accepting that his attempt at an education had been useless, quelling his pride and scraping together all he'd learned and failed to learn from the box of schoolbooks gathering dust under his brother's bed, putting it to what little practical use he could. It meant forgetting the things he had seen and the people he had met – the halls of Shiz and the infinite possibilities he had imagined when he arrived there, the more dazzling sights of the Emerald City, and –

Someday, he hoped, he would be ready to let it all go. Right now, the thought alone made him sick. The alternative of staying here wasn't much better, not when the whole City was constantly ringing with talk of Oz's lovely new ruler, no matter how much he tried not to hear it. But he couldn't just leave, not yet; he had to earn enough to pay back the money he'd borrowed from his father, and then enough again to pay his own way home. It would take months, at least.

So once again he was trapped, whatever choice he made, and once again it was his own fault that he hadn't seen it coming.

There was a knock on the door that separated his room from Niel's and, just as they had been taught, the Rat pups abandoned their attempts at climbing up Boq's sleeve and slid to the floor. Teneke leapt up as well, with a farewell nod to Boq, and herded her children into the shadows under the bed, to the crack in the wall through which they came and went. Boq waited until he was sure they had gone before he answered the door.

Bowing just slightly in jovial recognition of Boq's provincial manners (normally Boq would have appreciated the gesture, but the reminder of home in his present mood was rather more disheartening than comforting), Niel launched into his usual eager, direct way of speaking. "Just got home, and with exciting news. Exciting for me, I suppose, and I have to speak to you about it, but first, I've brought you a gift."

Taken aback, Boq stammered "Thank you!" before he had even pulled open the heavy, loosely-wrapped package. Inside he found an ornate hardcover copy of the Oziad. He let it fall open, cradling it awkwardly – it was too big to simply hold in one hand – and flipped with growing reverence through the yellowing pages, the elaborate calligraphy and illustrations in soft watercolors. "How – why did you…?"

Niel gave a half-shrug. "You've been a bit under the weather lately, and you've mentioned you like books." He didn't seem to share Boq's awe, and waved off his every attempt at profuse thanks. For this particular book was the most beautiful (and probably the most expensive) thing Boq had ever owned.

"But we have something serious to discuss," Niel said, stepping in from the doorway while Boq arranged the book neatly in the center of the bedside table. "You remember that I have been working and saving in hopes of bringing my family to live here with me, in a shop of my own."

"Of course."

"Well, if things continue in the fortunate direction they are headed, it seems that I will be able to send for them soon."

Boq tried not to look too alarmed. "That's – that's very fortunate, yes. How soon?"

"That's why I wished to speak with you. I've already begun looking into buildings for sale uptown, and found a few that look promising, so it may be very soon indeed. Of course when I move out you are welcome to stay here, if you can manage it, financially."

"Yes," said Boq, faintly. "I mean, no. I don't think I can."

"Well then, don't worry. You'll get as much time as you need to find somewhere else to stay, and if there are any problems I'll see if I can't help you out."

A little dazed with this sudden turn of events, Boq could only nod, in what he hoped was an appropriately grateful sort of way. Niel appeared satisfied by this response and changed the subject at full speed.

"Have you been reading the newspapers, by the way?"

"Not regularly."

"You have family somewhere in Wend Hardings, is that right?"

"In Rush Margins," Boq said. "Why?"

"Good, I suppose they'd be well out of it. My wife is staying with her parents in Nest Fallows; she wrote me about some kind of – well, a laborers' uprising, I suppose. Debates about succession. Growing unrest. There's some fear of fighting breaking out, she says; may the Unnamed God forbid it. This is all hearsay, it hasn't been in the papers here yet – though it will be, any day now, with more details, I'm sure."

This was all news to Boq. Nest Fallows was nearer to the Corn Basket and the seat of affluence in Munchkinland, far away from the more humble situation of most of Wend Hardings. Any trouble could easily stay well away from there, and he fervently hoped it would. It was bad enough being caught here in this snare of his own making, without having his family in danger and nothing he could do about it.

As Niel turned to go, his foot jarred some small debris on the floor. "Oh," he said, and leaned to pick it up. "Is this your button?"

Hiding a grin, Boq checked the front of his shirt and found a missing button towards the bottom, threads still hanging frayed from being chewed by rodent teeth. "I must have lost it."

It was easy, for the most part, to keep his thoughts outside himself; there was enough to distract him, that was certain. Oran delighted in heckling him while he tried to work; the stablemaster possessed a sixth sense about how to get under his employees' skin, and a significant amount of his approval for their work seemed to come from how easy it was to fluster them with his merciless teasing. He had latched onto the change in Boq's demeanor immediately and set about the game of finding out what had caused it.

"Pining for someone you left at home," he guessed shrewdly. "A pretty little ewe of yours, is that right? Your own special pet?"

One of the grooms snickered, probably less from amusement and more from relief that he wasn't Oran's current target. Boq only bit his tongue and focused on the harness he was polishing.

But at night, he had time to think more honestly about things than he had allowed himself to do before. Even after many weeks and many sleepless nights, nothing grew any clearer.

Nessa had been either a desperate and lonely girl who wanted him to love her and knew he never would, or she had been a ruthless tyrant with no regard for the people she ruled. He knew firsthand that she had been both, and often at the same time, to chilling contrast; the cruelest things she'd done were done with the intent of finally securing his attention, and he had seen the hope shining in her eyes as she signed law after unjust law that would make it impossible for him to leave her. So then, had Elphaba been a dangerous criminal trying to undermine societal order or, as she'd claimed, had she been unfairly maligned? Could it be that, like Nessa, she had been both? Even Fiyero had betrayed Glinda and the Wizard, hadn't he, but he'd done it to help Elphaba, and if the things the Wizard had said about Elphaba were lies…

There was no way to come to a conclusion; he didn't know enough to do more than reason in circles, and that only served to give him a headache.

And even Glinda wasn't who he'd thought she was – or rather she was exactly who he'd thought she was, on the outside, but with far more depth than he would ever have guessed at. They really hadn't been very close in school, as awful as it was for him to admit it.

And what was he? What had he thought he was? How could he ever have expected to win Glinda's attention? The very fact that it had always been so difficult to get to speak to her through her legions of admirers should have been enough – add to that the fact that she had never been particularly interested in what he had to say… And why should she be? What had he ever had to say to her that was of interest, anyway?

In his new state of clarity, the scope of his own folly was overwhelming, almost sickening. He had been behaving like a silly child, as if he hadn't grown up at all since leaving Shiz. Surely if he had stopped for a moment to think, he would have realized that. Not for a moment should he have imagined that he could have any claim to her.

But then – he couldn't stop the small, stubborn voice in the back of his mind from wondering – why shouldn't he? Had things gone differently – if he had been bolder in trying to win her attention, if Fiyero hadn't come along when he did, if Nessa hadn't sunk her claws into him so thoroughly before he even realized it, if he'd just had more time – then might he have had a chance? Could he still have had a chance, if the course of events hadn't once more run against him?

He would never know. And it was that tiny, flickering light of hope, refusing to be quenched despite his best efforts, which kept him in such misery.

It was difficult to feel truly melancholy, even after a long day, with four boisterous Rat pups constantly climbing up his sleeves, pulling his hair, and attempting to gnaw more buttons off his shirt when they thought he wasn't looking. They reminded him of him and his brothers climbing trees when they were children, constantly daring one another to risk their necks by climbing highest, occasionally getting stuck and needing to be rescued. And for added peril, this particular tree was ticklish.

They spent nearly every evening like this, in easy companionship – the only part of his day that Boq really looked forward to. After sharing a simple meal with his guests, he would take the time to write home – although mail from the Emerald City to Munchkinland was never certain, he didn't want to fall out of contact with his family ever again, even for a little while – or to read from the book Niel had given him, always keeping an eye on the pups so that Teneke could relax. As soon as it began to grow dark, the Rats would disappear back into the wall for the night. Teneke had never mentioned where the building's Rat population nested, and he was glad of it; since Animals were forbidden to live outside their appointed district, it seemed wise for him to turn a blind eye as much as possible.

"Did you fall asleep, Boq?" whispered a particularly whiskery Rat pup into his ear, interrupting his reading.

"Why? Do I look like I'm asleep?" Boq whispered back, without turning his head. He didn't want to upset Blikk from his perch.

"You're staying still."

"Some people are known to do that on occasion, yes."

"I see," said Blikk, wisely.

When they'd bored of using Boq as playground equipment, the pups trampled their way down to the floor to begin a game of catch, with a button in place of a ball. As usual, little Blikk was shoved to the sidelines, despite his eager attempts to join in. In a moment a scuffle had broken out, with the bigger brothers all ganging up to pin a squealing Blikk to the ground. Furtively, Boq leaned down to let Blikk scramble up onto his hand and out of the fray.

"That's cheating!" accused Oisin, appalled.

"He's right, Boq, as I am certain I've told you before," came Teneke's stern tone from her nest. Boq winced; he'd thought she'd been sleeping. Glad to have been rescued, Blikk made his way to the tabletop and around the open Oziad to the inkwell, while his brothers lost interest just as quickly, falling into a game of keep-away.

"I just wish you wouldn't let him be bullied so much," Boq said quietly to Teneke.

"They know what they're doing."

"So do I," he muttered; "they're bullying him."

"It's a good thing you're not a Rat, is all I can say to you," Teneke said, gently. "Those of us as can learn our lessons early are the lucky ones."

Having liberated the quill from the inkwell, nibbling the already-shredded feather tip with delight, Blikk turned his attention back to Boq. With some interest, he watched him turn a page, and asked, "What's that you've got?"

"It's a book."

"Oh. What's it do?"

"It doesn't really do anything."

"So why are you watching it?"

"I'm not watching it," Boq said, a little mystified by this sudden curiosity.

"Oh. So what're you doing?"

"Reading."

"What's that?"

"What is what?"

"Reading, what's reading?"

"It's… well…" Boq fumbled for an explanation. "These marks on the pages, they represent sounds – words – and if you can put them together, you can understand them. Does that make any sense?"

"No," Blikk said simply, wide-eyed.

"It's as if the book is talking to you, but you have to learn its language first."

Contemplating this new angle, Blikk groomed his ears vigorously to give himself time to think. "I see," he concluded. "Talking to books."

This wasn't as easy as he had anticipated. "Not exactly. It's a little more complicated than this, but – it's not the book you're talking to – it's the person who made it. Sort of. Or I suppose it's more like the person who made the book is talking to the person who reads it."

"Someone made marks in a book just so you could read it?"

"Well, not just forme," Boq said, noting that Blikk looked a little disappointed at that. "It's for anyone who happens to find the book."

"Oh!" Suddenly Blikk straightened up, his eyes alight with real understanding. "Like smells, but with words!"

Just barely choking back a laugh, Boq answered, as gravely as possible, "I suppose you could think of it that way."

He sat very still while Blikk climbed back up his arm to perch on his shoulder again, from which distance he could take in the full spread of the pages more easily. "I could talk to other Rats with smells," Blikk sighed, "but I couldn't talk to books with words."

"Of course you could, if you knew how. Teneke," – there was a good-natured grumbling from the nest in response – "How long will it be until they can learn to read?"

He could never be quite sure about the development rate of the Rat pups. Only a few weeks old, and they were already having conversations with Boq as sophisticated as this one – something like the level of a five or six year old human child, yet different, somehow; far more focused. Four weeks ago they hadn't been speaking at all; it wouldn't be long before they were adults by Rat standards. It was really amazing, when he stopped to think about it.

"They won't learn at all from me; I don't read."

"No? Do you mind if I teach them, then?"

"Don't see why you'd bother. Like as not it's the only book they'll ever see. Seems there en't space enough between their ears already for the things that matter, without filling it up with nonsense."

Chastened, Blikk lowered his voice so that his mother couldn't hear. "I like nonsense."

"So do I," Boq whispered back.

Emerging from her makeshift nest and climbing stiffly up to join Blikk on Boq's shoulder, Teneke peered down at the Oziad. It was opened to one of the lovely pastel illustrations, a bleaker one than most, of Kumbricia stalking across the world in her mythic quest to rearrange things to her liking, shard by shard. It easily captured the dark mood of the passage it depicted.

"Hmph," Teneke said, apparently unmoved. "Suppose you're free to teach as long as they care to learn. And now it's getting late," she said over Blikk's squeal of triumph, loudly enough that the others could hear, "and we must all leave you to your sleep."

"Must we?" Isi asked plaintively, holding Eyal back by his tail, so that he couldn't snatch the button from a taunting Oisin.

"Master Boq has put up with enough of your mischief today, I think."

"I really don't mind if you stay," Boq said quietly.

"Ah, no. We'll get out of your hair. I've no wish to wear out our welcome. Say goodbye, all of you, and let's go, all in a line, stay together now – and no biting, Isi –!"

With that, they were gone. Sighing, Boq snapped the book shut on the image of Kumbricia and wished that it didn't get dark here quite so early.