A/N: Ok, folks, prepare to meet Glinda the Good and family... I'm sure you'll find them perfectly charming and hospitable. Ahem.
Chapter Nine
I Travel with a Nameless Maniac and Arrive at the Home of Glinda the Good
Okay, so I admit it. Adventures aren't anywhere near as fun as they're supposed to be. So far, I've narrowly escaped a horrible death by boredom, travelling with Yackle; I've managed to hitch a cart-ride from the sleepy village of Irilt to Gillikin with a grumpy old lunatic who speaks in grunts and won't even tell me his name, and now I'm on my way, sitting in this rickety old excuse for a cart which seems to seek out rocks and deliberately bump over them. Not really my idea of a good time.
Still, it could be worse; Yackle could have changed her mind and decided to come along for the ride.
"Why d'you want to go to Gillikin, anyway?" I ask curiously as the cart trundles out of the village. At this point, remember, I don't yet know that No-Name is going to be quite so much of a bore as Yackle, and I'm hopeful that I might finally get to have a proper conversation with someone during this part of my journey.
"Passing through," he mumbles, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. He's got a thick, scrubby grey beard that's almost long enough to tuck into his belt (if he had a belt, which he doesn't), and his face is such a violent shade of pink that for a moment I wonder whether he, like my, er, wonderful teacher Dr. Bloom, is a Pig in disguise.
"Where are you going, then?" I want to know. He doesn't answer, and I tap him on his shoulder to get his attention.
Next thing I know, he whirls round in his seat, his eyes narrowed and his fists tightly clenched. "Don't!" he growls at me. "Don't. Make. Me. Jump!"
So I'm now travelling with yet another crazy person. Good to know.
"Okay, okay," I tell him quickly, "sorry. And by the way, your horses are trying to turn round and go back the other way."
"For Oz's sake," No-Name glowers at me and turns around quickly to steer his horses back in the right direction, "now look. All your stupid fault, girl!"
"My name's not Girl," I tell him helpfully, "it's Fiera."
"Eh," he says, paying absolutely no attention to me. I only just stop myself from leaning forward and waving a hand in front of his face to get him to start listening, but then I remember how he just went all Maniac-Pig Man on me a second ago, and suddenly it doesn't seem like such a great idea.
"Wake up, girl! We're here!"
I blink slowly and the world swims into focus. It's a whole different world to the one I'm used to, one with rolling green fields and a light breeze and an actual road on which to travel. The air is much crisper and cooler here than the endless, stifling heat of the Vinkus, and even than the muggy warmth of Outer Munchkinland, which we passed through yesterday.
We've been travelling for six days, now, but it feels more like forty-six.
"We're where?" I ask, a bit idiotically, sitting up and stretching my arms up above my head. Carts, it turns out, are not the most comfortable places to sleep.
"Your stop," No-Name informs me in his gravelly voice, bringing the horses to a standstill.
I peer about me, looking this way and that. There are houses in the far distance, but nowhere nearby. "This isn't where Lady Glinda lives," I point out, "there's nothing here."
No-Name laughs harshly. "Not going out of my way to take you all the way to her door," he says, "what d'you think you are, a princess?"
Ha. Not in so many words.
"Actually," I tell him with a smile, "my father's a prince."
"Yeah, yeah," No-Name mutters, "aren't they all? Now unless you want to go to Quadling Country, I'd get down now."
I grab the bag containing my few possessions and jump down from the cart. It's a slightly longer drop to the ground than I thought; a sharp, quick pain shoots up my legs and I almost end up stumbling into the side of the cart.
"I don't even know how to get to Lady Glinda's estate," I remind him, "where is it?"
He smiles crookedly. Oh, now he lets on that he actually knows how to smile. That's nice. "Follow the road," he grunts, "you'll know it when you see it."
No-Name might have been a Maniac-Pig Man, but he was right about one thing. You can't possibly miss Glinda the Good's estate. And you'd have to be completely brainless (not just mildly stupid, like I apparently am) not to realise who lives there.
For one thing, it's really, ridiculously fancy. And when I say fancy, I mean fancy. It's a massive, white building with a pair of huge, pastel pink double doors and some of the most complicated, swirly architecture in all of Oz (well, I haven't even been all over Oz, but still, I bet it is). The gardens are absolutely full of flowers, flowers of every kind, and the smell is overpowering and a little sickly.
It's completely overwhelming, but not in a 'wow' kind of way. More like 'ew'. Maybe if it wasn't so girly...
Ok, not the point. Quest now, architecture critique later. Or probably never, in fact, since I don't want to be an architect.
There's a path made of little white pebbles which leads right up to those pink doors, and I practically run up it, I'm so completely sick of everything taking so long these days. I go skidding to a halt and pound on the door several times. In fact, I'm still knocking impatiently on it when it swings open and I almost go stumbling head-first into a grey-haired woman wearing a neat, pale blue dress made of some kind of shimmery, silky material I've never seen before.
"Um," I say, oh-so-intelligently, "you're not Glinda the Good."
"No," the woman replies stiffly, "apparently not. And who might you be, young lady?" Her eyes travel steadily from my muddy, dusty boots to my crumpled outfit of simple brown trousers and a white shirt (well, it was white, now it's more of a murky grey colour) to my bedraggled hair and slightly puzzled face. It dawns on me suddenly that I haven't been able to wash since I left Kiamo Ko. I probably smell worse than the flowers.
"I'm..." not sure who in Oz this snobby lady is, and I'm certainly not sure whether I can trust her, "I'm the daughter of one of Lady Glinda's friends," I explain vaguely, "I thought I'd, um, drop in and surprise her." As an afterthought, I can't help adding, "And who are you? Lady Glinda does live here, doesn't she?"
"Yes," she says curtly, "she does. But Glinda the Good does not have any friends in the Vinkus, not that I'm aware of, anyway."
Any friends in - ? How does she know - ?
Oh, right. Dark hair? Check. Tanned skin? Check. Blatantly been travelling for miles? Check. Where else would I be from?
"You aren't really the child of one of my Lady's friends, are you?" the woman continues, wrinkling her nose, "you're a little vagrant, aren't you? A little homeless urchin of a child. Well, I'm afraid we do not take in waifs and strays at Chuffrey Grounds."
"But I –"
"I'm sorry, child. Why don't you keep going 'til you reach the city? Perhaps someone there will give you a few nights' board."
She looks at me expectantly, like she thinks I'm going to give up and go away.
Well, I'm the daughter of the Wicked Witch of the West. Nobody is going to get rid of me that easily.
"I'm not an urchin!" I fold my arms and try to imitate the Don't-Mess-With-Me expression that my mother is so good at, "I have a family, and I have a home, thank you very much! I need to speak to Glinda the Good and I need to speak to her now. Why don't you let her decide whether I can come in or not? You're probably just a servant, anyway!"
Oops. Something tells me that wasn't really the right thing to say.
"I'm no lowly servant, I'll have you know!" the woman spits at me, "I'm Master Cassian's governess!"
Master Cassian. That must be Glinda the Good's son.
"Now be gone with you!" the governess screeches, "and don't let me catch you skulking around here again, you nasty, primitive little savage!"
Well. I have really had enough of crazy people today.
I'm about to argue back, when the high, clear voice of another woman rings out from behind Madam Snob.
"What in the name of Lurline is going on?" there are quick footsteps, high heels clattering on the marble floor, and the speaker comes up behind the governess. I know straight away who she is. She's as fancy and pink as her house (though thankfully not as smelly) with a bouncing cloud of blonde hair, and a beautiful, slightly round face that sparkles with about a ton of make-up.
"Lady Glinda!" the governess turns to her and dips her a brief curtsy, "this young hooligan has just accused me of being a lowly servant and demanded to see you! The very audacity of her! She is quite, quite wild."
"I'm not wild! –" I start, my face going pink with anger and embarrassment, but Glinda the Good cuts in smoothly.
"Oh, don't be horrendible, Miss Myrta;" she tells the governess in her fluttery voice, "I am sure this child has only come to seek my help. She won't do any harm."
"But, Lady Glinda, allow me to explain! I told the girl we do not take in waifs and strays –"
Lady Glinda's eyes widen. "Why ever not? I did not achieve my title by being selfish and ignorant. I am Glinda the Good."
At this, Miss Myrta bows her head. "Of course, of course. I'll leave you to deal with her as you see fit, my Lady." And she bustles off down the wide hallway.
Ha. What a suck-up. How does Lady Glinda put up with her?
"Now, my dear child," Glinda fixes her bright, greenish-blue eyes on me, "Tell me, what is your name?"
I look right back at her, take a deep breath and tell her:
"My name's Fiera. And Elphaba Thropp is my mother."
A/N: I swear you'll get to meet Cassian in the next chapter, honest! It's just that Fiera's journey to Gillikin and her meeting Glinda went on for longer than I expected.
Anyway, hope ya'll are still hooked :D Reviews are loved!
