Glinda the Good
Was the Kumbric Witch interfering with or accomplishing the ordained fate of the beasts?
(…) Any way you looked at it, there was the syncretism of myth, myth's happy appetite to engorge on narrative strains.
(…) Maybe the Witch wasn't feeding the drenched animal, but killing it? Sacrificing it to stay the floods?
Wicked, p. 160-161
"So there we were— standing at the edge of the Finglade's fishing pond— as naked as the day we were born and completely soaked to our skins. Boq had foolishly hung our clothes on a hornwood tree nearby, right where a band of trolling Monarchs managed to get their beaks on them."
"No," said Nanny in absolute shock, knitting a little faster.
"They don't want to hear this, Avaric," said Boq with obvious irritation.
"Would you shut up, Nancy? I'm telling a story, and you're spoiling the best part. Now, our mutual friend Smithee gets this brilliant idea to run up to the manor house to see if the servants had left any clothes out on the line to dry. A rather sensible idea in light of the circumstances. It was rounding four o'clock, after all. Anyway, since Boq was the ass who lost our clothes in the first place, it only seemed fair that he be the one to run up to the house to raid the laundry line."
"Scandalous," said Nessa with arch disapproval, though she was visibly sitting up straighter.
"Must you tell this ridiculous story every opportunity you get?" Boq fumed.
"Of course I must, my darling chuck. Now quit your whining before I pull your trousers off and give these ladies a visual aid."
"Oh, no you don't," said Nanny sternly. "We're not going to have a sordid peep-show in the back of this carriage."
"Sordid is a splendid choice of words, Miss Nanny. Nude little Boq was a sordid sight. He went running up the grounds to the manor and of course we had to follow him. It was bound to be a laugh. We hid ourselves behind some hopsberry bushes and watched him charge up the hill. He most assuredly found a clothesline… right in front of the parlor window where dear Lady Finglade was hosting a soirée with the ladies of the Emerald Art Society. Can you imagine the looks on their faces when they caught sight of a pale pink Munchkin streaking across their lawn?"
Nanny erupted into a fit of laughter. Nessa's mouth became pinched. Boq was blushing a crimson red and had turned to stare out the window.
"But that's not the best part," said Avaric, scooting closer and resting an arm on his thigh. "Boq missed one of the hanging dress shirts and grabbed a pink sundress instead. The fool was scrambling to put it over his head, right when Lord Finglade came walking around the corner with his enormous bull mastiff—"
"Enough, Avaric!" yelled Boq in anger. "Lurline, we've heard enough!"
"My dear chap!" said Avaric, astonished. "I thought you looked rather becoming in a sundress!"
"Give it a rest, Avaric," said Elphaba. "We're nearly there, and I think we could all do without the visual of Boq exposing himself in any setting, be it public or private."
"Oh, do forgive me, Elphie," said Avaric, looking wholly penitent. "How should you like to pass the time instead? We could discuss the finer points of the weather, or perhaps you'd care to enlighten the group on the remarkable dexterity of Miss Glinda's tongue—"
"That's enough, Avaric," said Nessa, exasperated. "Gracious heaven and Oz below, can we please talk of something civilized for a change?"
"I thought I was being perfectly civil," said Avaric with a grin.
"You're a perfect bastard," muttered Boq.
"Oh stop it, darling; how can you be so cross? Fall semester is practically over and we're going to the festival to get sloshed! How's this… we'll find you a lovely young girl that's every bit as charming as the insatiable Miss Glinda. We'll even make sure that she isn't partial to snogging the stuffing out of ill-tempered florae."
"One more word," said Elphaba dangerously, pointing her finger at him, "one more word out of your mouth, Avaric, and I'll hex you into a meat grinder. You spent all my patience the moment you stepped into this Oz-forsaken carriage. If you think Lord Finglade's mastiff was frightening, you haven't seen anything yet."
"Hexing," said Nanny with a cheerful snort. "My Elphie thinks she's a witch."
"And what if I am?" said Elphaba darkly. "You'd be surprised what I'm capable of, Nanny."
"Playing with sorcery?" said Nessa coolly. "Is this another secret you've hidden?"
"You don't spend hundreds upon thousands of hours studying the subject without developing an interest," said Elphaba. "I've learned more practical theory on the subject to set me for several lifetimes. But it is rather curious in its own twisted right; perhaps it's time to make a change to my curriculum for the upcoming semester? One thing's for certain: I won't be attending any of Nikidik's lectures again."
"Ha!" said Avaric with a spirited laugh. "Elphie as a conjuring sorceress. What a perfect image to complete the day, capped off with this glorious weather. What do you think, old Master Boq? Does the image appeal to you as well?" But Boq chose to ignore the group and continued to stare out of the window.
For all of her apathy to his unrequited affections, Elphaba felt guilty for wounding him. She might have offered a comforting sentiment had she been able to expend much thought beyond her own remarkable situation. The image of Glinda still burned in her mind; simultaneously warming and unsettling her. She wished that Glinda had come with them. Even now, Elphaba missed her.
She pictured Glinda sitting by the window, laughing at Avaric's stupid stories while holding Elphaba's hand. Boq would be trying to win her attentions, and Glinda would graciously let him. Nessa would still be annoyed with everyone and Nanny would say something outrageous. Elphaba would be admiring Glinda's beauty, but only when Glinda wasn't watching. She smirked when she thought of her friend's stunning figure and the maddening kiss they had shared. Glinda certainly had a number of talents, and turning the senses to mush was one of them. How had Boq described it before? Didn't he call it 'spectacular?' A pitiful understatement, but then Boq never was the most articulate Munchkin she'd known. Besides, Elphaba would prefer to spend a lifetime forming her own conclusions. Why be satisfied with guesswork and theories when you could put your studies into frequent application?
But somewhere at the back of her mind, Elphaba's ardor was tempered with a cautious, even troubled hesitation. Frankly, Elphaba couldn't believe how painfully devoted she'd become to Glinda. Even in spite of their recent distance, she was every bit as hopelessly undone as the day Glinda first called her beautiful. She was so haughty back then—so conceited and cruel. Beautiful, willful, and angry. Glinda was everything that Elphaba hated… or told herself that she did. Vanity, ignorance, artifice and privilege, wrapped in the luxuries of the world. Oh, how Elphaba had come to crave unwrapping each of those layers.
In place of vanity, she'd found humility; a meek and timid young girl. Ignorance was an anguished burden of fears that were mistaken for failures and frustrations. Artifice masked a sweet vulnerability that was buried beneath money and privilege. The flawless beauty of gentle features was nothing in comparison to the striking beauty of a loving, grateful heart.
Elphaba glanced out of the window and watched the world passing by. If only time could be captured and held; if only you could embrace a moment. A quiet moment between two friends that had changed their lives completely, turning them both into curious lovers in the most unlikely of circumstances. Her father had said that love wasn't blind—something she'd never forgot. But if love could see everything, both perfect and damaged, why couldn't she see Glinda's heart?
The carriage came to a leisurely stop at the curb of Carthings' Square. Hundreds of students were gathered around, chattering and laughing while they searched for their friends. "Finally," said Nessa with a grumbled moan as she leaned back on the seat. "Another minute bundled up in this heat and I'm sure I'd have passed out."
"Goodness, Miss Nessa, you should have said something," said Avaric, looking concerned. "I'd have been happy to remove your garments if that would have made you more comfortable."
Nanny whacked him smartly with her handbag and told him to open the door. "Come on then, you cheeky despot. Nessie needs some air!"
They filed one by one out of the carriage with Nessa the last to be escorted out. The square was bustling with noise and laughter outside of the Cathedral of St. Carthings. The streetlamps were lit and music was playing along the main thoroughfare. Local vendors were already out, attempting to entice the crowds towards their substandard holiday merchandise.
After several minutes of aimless wandering, they successfully located their friends. Avaric discovered them an instant before Fiyero saw them approaching. The Vinkus Prince smiled handsomely and turned in the opposite direction.
"Here they are!" Fiyero shouted into the bustling crowd.
Elphaba looked over and saw Tibbett heading towards them, holding three cups of port. "Blessed Lurline and all of her saints, our heroes have finally arrived!" he hollered.
"We were beginning to think you weren't going to make it," Fiyero cheerfully replied. "These two have been whining for the past twenty minutes— what took you so long to get here?" His eyebrow quirked up at Nessa's approach, and he smiled at her bundled figure. "Or perhaps you've already answered my question?"
"Very funny," said Nessarose.
"Ladies will be ladies, Fiyero, and we mustn't rush them," said Avaric. "Of course, Miss Glinda and dear Miss Elphie did insist on a long goodbye."
"A long good-what?" asked Crope inquisitively.
"Of the physical variety," Avaric grinned.
Crope and Tibbett looked at Elphaba in astonishment. She scowled back in response. Nessa shook her head in obvious frustration while Fiyero tried not to blush. The boys quickly glanced over at Boq with the same stunned expression. They found him looking both cross and sullen. It was all the confirmation they needed.
They burst into a fit of uproarious laughter that seemed in danger of choking them. "Lurline indeed!" said Crope smartly. "The things we miss when we travel with the gents!"
"Perhaps Miss Elphie would care to favor us with a repeat performance?" said Tibbett.
"Oh, shut up, the lot of you," said Elphaba, vexed. "Don't try my patience any further. I've already made plans to stuff this idiot into the nearest meat-grinder."
"Can you put that on hold, Elphie dearest?" said Crope with his arm around Avaric. "We'd prefer him fully intact for the evening, especially once we hit the breweries."
"So," said Fiyero, clearing his throat, "are we ready to finally be off, then?"
"Well we can't leave yet!" said Nessa bossily. "We're still waiting for Glinda and the others."
"Glinda?" said Tibbett with a curious look. "I thought she was staying home?"
"She said she was taking a different coach with Milla, Pfannee, and Shenshen," said Elphaba. "The girls wanted an opportunity to talk, so we may be waiting a while."
"What are you talking about?" said Crope strangely. "The girls are already here. They arrived early— sometime after twelve. We're meeting them out by the gate."
Elphaba studied him with a quizzical expression. "What? That isn't possible."
"We've already seen them," Tibbett replied. "Pfannee, Milla, and Shenshen? They made arrangements to leave Shiz early in one of their family carriages. Shenshen's cousin is up for a visit, so they wanted to make a day of it. Didn't Glinda tell you this? The girls invited her to go with them."
"But…" said Elphaba, suddenly confused, "that doesn't make any sense. They spent the afternoon together… she was traveling with her friends..."
"Maybe she changed her mind," said Fiyero. "Maybe she wasn't feeling well."
"You're not listening, Fiyero... if Glinda was sick, then why did she tell me that she was going with them? She was dressed for the weather and told me straight-forward that she would be traveling with Pfannee and Shenshen! She did this a minute before I stepped onto the carriage with Boq, Avaric and Nessa. Why would she lie to me? Why go through the whole ludicrous production of doing it?"
"To deceive us..." said Nessa in a startled whisper.
Elphaba quickly looked down at her, her eyes narrowing in menace. "What did you say?"
Nessa became pensive and stared up at Elphaba with an odd, anxious expression. "She did it to deceive us… or better, to deceive you. She staged it all on purpose. If Glinda told you she was going to stay home, she knew that you would have stayed with her."
"But why should she care?" Elphaba snarled. "Why would she want to be—"
…alone?
Elphaba stopped before she could finish the thought. She nearly choked on the word. The rusted gears in her mind started turning, matching the clanking rhythm of her heart. The walls of her stomach turned instantly to lead, and the breath in her throat became caught. Her gaze traveled over each of her friends in frenzied, silent panic.
"Elphaba?" said Boq, taking a step forward. "Why would Glinda lie to you?"
Elphaba started shaking her head. "No," she whispered in the grips of terror. "No… no… no!"
She shouldered roughly past their group, scanning the crowds around her. Faces and figures swirled into her vision, and she had difficulty concentrating on any of them. "Elphaba!" her friends called out in unison, but Elphaba refused to hear them. Where were they? Where were they? She fought her way through the throng. The jovial music still played through the streets in a comical, mocking manner. She ran past a vendor and knocked his cart over, scattering trinkets all over the ground.
"Hey!" he shouted with a violent curse. "Get back here, you sick-skinned maniac!"
"Whare are they!" she frantically yelled, not bothering to look back at him.
Hundreds of eyes turned in her direction, blurring together in a sea of madness. Arms, skirts, bodies, and beasts swarmed like a plague upon her. She scrambled through them with charged determination, finally catching sight of Pfannee standing near the gate. She was chattering with a small group of friends that had just arrived by carriage. Milla and Shenshen were there as well, but there was no sign of Glinda. Elphaba growled like a wild animal as she reached out for Pfannee in an instant.
Her fingers caught hold of one of her arms, and she violently spun her around. "WHERE IS GLINDA?" Elphaba shouted, roughly pulling her closer.
"What on earth are you doing?" cried Pfannee. "Let go of me, you terror!"
Elphaba's fingers clamped down her face, squeezing it in a vice-like grip. Pfannee shrieked in obvious pain as Elphaba's fingers dug into her skin. "Answer me, you stupid wretch! Tell me or I swear I'll kill you!"
"Elphaba! Elphaba!" Milla cried, grasping Elphaba's arm. "Let go of her! Please! Please don't hurt her! She doesn't know anything, I swear it! We haven't seen Glinda all afternoon! I promise she isn't here!"
Elphaba turned to Milla in a daze, not entirely understanding her. "You don't know anything," she spoke hoarsely. "She said she was going with you! She held my face and kissed me goodbye. She said… that Pfannee…"
Shenshen took a frightened step backwards, as far from Elphaba as possible. "We came here alone, Elphie. We invited her to come, but she said she was staying home."
Elphaba stared at them, uncomprehending. Her features twisted in agony. "She's alone," she whimpered, turning to Pfannee and slackening her grip on her face. "She lied to me. She lied to us all. And I left her… I left her... I…"
No.
Elphaba turned and staggered away as if in a drunken stupor. "I've got to get back," she stammered thickly. "I've got to get back to Crage Hall!"
She turned to one of the nearest carriages and grasped the cape of the driver. "Take me back to the school," she shouted, "and ride as fast as you can!"
"Elphie?" said Milla, timidly approaching. "What's wrong? Tell us what's wrong!"
"There's no time," Elphaba choked. "I don't have time to explain…"
"Elphaba! Elphaba!" came a voice from the crowd, rushed and out of breath. She turned and saw Nessa barreling forward, clumsily making her way through the masses. She was desperately trying to catch up to her sister and was being careless in the process. Elphaba tried to ignore her cries and turned to climb into the carriage. She heard a horrific sounding crack and a raised gasp from the crowd.
She spun around and saw Nessarose lying face-first on the ground. Elphaba watched her for an eternal second, bleeding above the pavement. She looked into the carriage and back down at Nessa.
She made up her mind that instant.
Elphaba hopped off the carriage step and rushed over to her sister. Nessa was squirming awkwardly on the ground as a few Munchkin girls tried to help her. Her nose was bleeding as well as her mouth; her front was covered in mud. Elphaba grabbed her firmly by the torso and moved her away from the crowd.
"Come on," she hissed, guiding her over towards the waiting carriage. She shoved her in and climbed up behind her, shutting the doors just as quickly.
"Go!" Elphaba shouted, leaning out of the window and smacking her fist on the ceiling.
The horses pulled out and took off at a run back towards Shiz University.
The frigid air from a passing storm froze the scene of pearlfruit trees across the campus grounds. Faint whispers from the moaning wind carried over the empty courtyard, high above the buildings. The scene was as timeless as an oil painting where branches and boughs were rendered motionless, lacking the strength of a breeze to disturb them. The pull was more gentle—almost imperceptible. She walked through the colors of winter's calm, the echo of her footfalls striking the pavement.
The grounds were deserted. No sign of student or chattering minder was left to be found. Glinda was alone in the frozen landscape, lost in the absence of sound. Her gaze was set, her features were calm, and she walked with a surety of step. She knew the path and where it would lead her, born by the gentle wind.
Within her mind, Glinda recalled a lifetime of visions and memories. Truths that were woven and carefully revealed to her within the space of her dreams. She had seen it all in the grips of her fever, induced by the bottle's cunning secrets. There was the Other Land of Oz, a perfect likeness of the world she'd known cast under clouds of darkness. It was the death of justice, hope and friends—as well as the death of her heart. All set high in a castle's tower far in the Vinkus desert.
But revelation was a curious thing, for all of its truths and providence. As creatures of fate, of thought, and agency… could anything ever be certain? She looked at the stars high above, shining weakly in the sky. There was nothing in them that held her to fate or spoke to her of destiny. Only the veil of time and eternity imparted her with its truths. Whether her heart could willingly accept them was another matter entirely.
Glinda eventually arrived at the steps of the empty Crage Hall building. She was standing far on the western side where the wind was moaning fiercest. She coolly stepped up and pulled back the door, quietly entering the foyer. All around her was absolute silence. The clock on the wall showed the hour. Glinda remembered standing here before, just in the alcove nearby. She had been waiting for Elphaba, as she always was, continually studying the clock on the wall and fearing the passage of time.
Elphaba… Elphaba... Where was she now? Had her carriage arrived in the provinces? It wounded Glinda to have to think of her, but she wasn't going to deny herself the luxury. There was so little time and so much in her heart that she longed to feel and remember. Soft green hands… a beautiful smile… a portrait of love's perfection. Would Elphaba forgive her for the lies she had spoken? Maybe. Perhaps she wouldn't. A necessary evil was still evil in name if not in the intention.
But even if regret was all that they had, Glinda would gladly accept it. She breathed in deeply and walked down the hall on a path long remembered. Her footsteps echoed across the corridor, jarring the surrounding silence. She turned a corner, then turned another, following the course in her mind.
At last, she arrived in an ill-lit hallway with a familiar cellar door. Elphaba's voice had led her here once.
No one was leading her now.
She opened the door. She turned up the gaslights. Everything became illuminated. The small wooden staircase that led into the cellar, stacked with dust-covered crates. Step by step, she slowly descended into the thrumming inferno. The air was warm, but hardly comforting. Glinda preferred the cold.
The room was more alive than ever, pulsing under the nearby furnaces in an almost agitated manner. The hum from the air ducts reverberated through the walls, sending tiny volts of current throughout her entire body. She was walking slowly, heading for the wall straight at the back of the room. Further and further she carried herself into the sinister, silent womb. Her even breathing betrayed little to nothing of her rapidly beating heart, nor did it hinder her steady gait as she cautiously approached the wall. It stood just as cold and perfectly callous as Glinda once remembered it— every stone a glistening fang grimacing at her presence.
She placed her hands on the rough stone wall, sliding her fingers against it. Her movements were certain, calm, and exacting— much like a clockwork mechanism. The voice that had beckoned her here once before was a distant whisper in the dark. She could hear its breathless siren's song, forever beckoning her forward.
Her fingers eventually brushed across the plane of a sharp, jutting stone. It was hardly noticeable to the naked eye, only slightly more raised than the others. Glinda studied it for a silent moment, outlining its shape with her fingers. She pressed against it with the flat of her palm.
The stones suddenly shifted.
It began with a soft scraping sound, followed by a loud creak. The wall pivoted on a hidden apparatus, revolving in a winding motion. Glinda took a cautious step back to avoid the turning panel. She wasn't startled by this strange development; rather, she'd been expecting it.
When the stones eventually came to a stop, they revealed a dark and shallow passage hidden beyond the room. It could only have been a few feet deep as Glinda could barely make out a staircase that spiraled up into the building. She stepped warily into the whispering darkness, cautiously climbing over stones and steps along the uneven floor. A lamp was hanging on a nearby hook right at the foot of the staircase. She quickly lit it with trembling fingers, watching it slowly spark to life and surround her in a dim white glow. Glinda looked up at the winding stairway, then cautiously began moving forward.
One by one, slowly and steadily, she made her way up the stairs. Her footsteps were measured, hardly audible. The pulse in her veins was a thrum. The stairs were very narrow and steep—twisting ever higher up into the blinding darkness. The further she climbed, the deeper it grew, pulling her into a claustrophobic stream of menacing shapes and shadows. Her breath was faster, much less even. The air turned her blood to ice.
It was unclear how far she had ascended; it seemed to be an eternity. She must have climbed several stories of the building; the stairs were practically endless. But a chill eventually crept into the air, which had noticeably become thinner. The scurrying of rats was heard in the walls. Glinda knew she was close.
In confirmation to her heightened senses, the stairway came to an end. The light of her lantern rested upon a door of solid oak. Glinda stood timidly before it, willing herself to take the next step. She closed her eyes and reached for the handle, pushing it open with a loud, groaning creak.
The door swung in and revealed the interior of a small round room. There was a desk in the center and shelves along the wall. There weren't any windows to be seen. Scattered along the shelves and tables were bottles of various substances. Chemicals and compounds… solvents and elements. It was a small, make-shift laboratory. Stacks of codes and papers were filed neatly on top of the shelves. Curious instruments of a more sinister nature hung loosely on the walls. Disturbingly enough, Glinda discovered bloodstains spattered across the desk. This room obviously served a number of purposes, and each was more gruesome than the last.
But perhaps the most disturbing thing was that Glinda knew she was no longer alone. The shadow that crossed her vision confirmed it as the door was pushed back even further.
"I really should congratulate you," said a chilling voice behind her. "It takes a frightful sort of stubbornness to seek the Devil's lair."
Glinda didn't need to turn. She knew it was Madame Morrible.
The door creaked back on rusted hinges and thudded against the wall. A rustling of fabric could be heard in the silence along with the sharp click of a heel. Were it possible, the room might have dropped several degrees in temperature. Glinda remained as still as a statue, her heart pounding in her breast. Her head tilted just to the side as she continued to examine the surrounding bottles.
"I admire that courage," Morrible continued, "however misplaced it may be. Are you truly suicidal, my dear? Insane as the others have suggested? Certainly you must have guessed that the fires of hell would await you here."
"It's not the fires I fear," said Glinda, her voice above a whisper. "Just the demon that sleeps beneath them and the fury to follow when it awakes."
Morrible laughed with gruesome humor and stepped further into the room. "Ah, Miss Glinda… my dear Miss Glinda… how I've underestimated you. I knew you had talent, that much was clear, but I never would have guessed that such a flitty little society girl was in possession of half a brain. The mistake is mine, and I shall own it completely. Quite the failing on my part. But the wonderful thing about mistakes, dear girl, is that we are privileged to learn from them. I may have misjudged you once before, but I won't be doing it again."
Another moment of silence passed. Neither had moved any further.
"My Ama is dead," said Glinda faintly, less of a question than a statement.
"Your Ama is dead," Morrible replied. "A very sad business, that. She was such an ornery and obstinate old thing. Be glad she was put out of her misery."
"Am I to infer that you finally killed her?"
"More like she succumbed to her madness. It was very disgusting… very messy. The details would most likely sicken you. But I'm rather surprised that you and Miss Elphaba didn't stop by to bid her farewell. Little Grommetik readily assured me that he delivered the news this morning."
"I never told Elphaba," said Glinda emotionlessly. "She didn't know our Ama was dying."
"Indeed?" said Morrible, slightly amused. "And why, pray tell, did you hide it from her? I'm curious as to what you thought that might accomplish. The girl has been watching her die for months. Miss Elphaba knew well that this was coming—she guessed it long before you did. Why cheat her out of those last few moments of a sad, saccharine farewell? Or do you mistakenly believe I'm ignorant of everything that the pair of you have been up to?"
Glinda finally turned to look at her. Morrible smiled thinly. "Miss Elphaba knows that your Ama was poisoned. She knows that I did it myself. I dare say she also knows why I did it, though I never would have suspected either of you coming to that conclusion yourselves. I was certain that you would be far too stupid and gullible to credit me for the task. But no… no. There was something stranger at work in that pretty little skull of yours. A rather curious intelligence, really, if not just a little bit foolish. I watched your behavior… your reluctance… your fear… right after the old Goat's death. You were frightened of me. You were frightened of everyone. I knew that something was wrong.
"So I asked myself, 'Does this girl suspect me? Could she actually guess what I've done?' The idea seemed so utterly preposterous, yet my instincts told me otherwise. But it wasn't until that day in the hall that I was sure you knew more than I could ever have imagined. I don't know how you pieced it all together, but it was evident nonetheless.
"You see," said Morrible in a darker tone, "you left the light on in the cellar. No one goes down there… no one but me. This place is quite hidden. There are old towers in the Crage Hall building that no one cares to think about. They're the perfect place to conduct a crime, or perhaps commit a murder." Her smile became a little sinister, and she tilted her head to the side. "What did you intend upon discovering my little secret? You never found the hidden passage— not that time, at least. But still, you were obviously playing at something; you and that darling little roommate of yours. Sneaking around the campus grounds… breaking into buildings. You really should try harder to cover your tracks, Miss Glinda. There was glaring evidence that someone had been rummaging through Dr. Dillamond's storage cabinets. Was it you who braved the scene of the crime in all of your courageous stupidity? Or was that Miss Elphaba, flailing along in her pathetic crusade to thwart me?"
She took another step into the room. Glinda visibly shrank back.
"Such clever little girls," said Morrible, "as devious as the day is long. From there on out I watched you like a hawk, convinced that the easiest way to subdue you was by suggesting you'd gone insane. Your friends were certainly quick to believe it; your queer behavior made it simple. Rather ingenious on my part, don't you think? What a shame I never thought of it before."
Glinda continued to retreat into the room before her back brushed up against the wall. "You never poisoned me," she stammered.
"Of course I didn't, you fool. That wasn't to come until much, much later… most likely after your Ama's death. They say that tragedy softens the soul and makes a willing victim of us all. You see," Morrible grinned, "I've always had a plan for you—you and the remarkable Thropp sisters. For years I have served to inspire those students who possess great powers and abilities, but to discover so much talent as yours… well! Just think of the possibilities! Can you imagine what could be done with the three of you serving our great and glorious Wizard? Oz would become the ultimate empire—no one would dare to resist us!"
The fire of her words gleamed in her eyes, turning them an ominous grey. They were the eyes of a carp in the depths of a lake: small, bright, and unblinking. Glinda watched her with sickening dread, a rough wave of illness washing over her.
"Is that all this is?" said Glinda, revolted. "Everything we feared about you? Art and lies—turned and corrupted within this very room? You murdered Dillamond with your tick-tock device…you poisoned Ama Clutch with your vile organic compound… all this just to seize hold of our fates and convince us that you were all-powerful?"
"My dear," said Morrible in an almost patronizing voice, "you're going to find that in this life, nothing is ever what it seems. With a little artifice and a careful smile, you can convince almost anyone of anything. Why, just look at you: standing before me with a defiant look in your eye. With that lovely smile and that pretty little face, you could have Oz eating out of your hand. It's all in the intent— how far you're willing to go to carry such a cunning deception. Much like you convinced your noble headmistress that you were an ignorant, dim-witted girl. That is talent, my dear Miss Glinda. That is something to strive for. And now," she said, brandishing a pistol in the palm of her right hand, "it's time to decide what to do with you."
Glinda looked down at the slim silver barrel, aimed directly at her heart. Morrible held up a small red bottle, firmly corked at the top.
"I hold in my hand a small dosage of the Extract of Biological Suggestion," said Morrible. "It isn't enough to kill you, Miss Glinda, but it's enough to set you on whichever path I choose to lead you on. Your thoughts become mine. Your will is surrendered. You'll carry on in blissful ignorance. And if you choose not to drink the bottle's contents, I'm going to point this gun at your head and blow your brains to hell. Now, I know what you're thinking: 'Could she be serious? Does she really mean to kill me?' Well let me assure you, Miss Glinda Arduenna, that it isn't the first time I've spilled blood before, nor will it be the last. I have no reservations about putting this bullet straight through your pretty little skull. The crime is without witness. I can lock this door and let you rot here till kingdom come. All it would take is a single word from you: a resounding "yes" or "no." There you have it. Am I not merciful? Is that not the very definition of a forgiving, charitable heart? The decision is yours; I leave you to it. What will be your choice?"
Glinda looked down at the small red bottle and a shiver ran up her spine. "If I drink that, what becomes of my friends? Do you mean to turn us on Oz?"
"I mean to make you great, Miss Glinda. Can't you see the glory that I'm offering you? You'll become adepts to the Wizard himself, positioned around the three corners of Oz as spies in a magnificent campaign! You can't imagine the fame that awaits you… the jewels, the gowns, the palaces. Oz will love you as their great benefactress. They'll call you 'Glinda the Good.'"
Glinda was visibly shaking now. Tears were glistening in her eyes. "And Elphaba?" she asked in a trembling voice.
Morrible's lips quirked up. "She has her own purpose to serve… one that is very important."
"I won't let you hurt her," Glinda stammered, suddenly stepping forward.
"Really?" said Morrible with a ferocious grin as she pressed the gun against Glinda's throat.
Glinda went stiff and froze on the spot as the barrel pushed deep in her skin. She coldly locked eyes with Madame Morrible as a tear fell down her check. The Headmistress towered over her like the fearsome Angel of Death, ready to provide the swiftest killing stroke with the edge of her sharpened scythe.
"Will you stop me, Glinda?" she muttered dangerously. "Do you think you're strong enough? Elphaba may have given you courage, but without her you are helpless."
"I love her," said Glinda, her voice a tearful whimper.
Morrible smiled cruelly.
"Of course you do," she whispered soothingly. "Of course you do, sweet girl. You want your darling Elphaba to be happy— to live her life to the fullest."
Glinda's pulse gradually became slower. "Yes," she quietly whispered.
"And you want her to reach her full potential; to become everything that she was meant to be…and more…"
"Yes," Glinda whispered again. Her breath was becoming steadier.
Morrible nodded with erroneous compassion and stroked Glinda's cheek with her hand. "And if you love her, as you say you do, wouldn't you do anything… anything you could to give her that blissful ending?"
"Yes," said Glinda, firm and resilient. Her gaze was evenly set.
The headmistress slowly held up the bottle in front of Glinda's face. Glinda took it with steady fingers, the glass warm in her hand. She looked back up at Madame Morrible.
A slam was heard behind them.
Morrible spun around in an instant, pointing the gun at the doorway.
The door was shut. No one was in the room. All around them was silence
"Who's there?" she called in a menacing voice, swiftly moving towards the entrance. She reached for the handle and tried to turn it. The old brass keyhole was locked.
"What in blazes?" she hissed in confusion, trying the handle several times. The door could only be locked from the interior. Who on earth could have shut it?
"It's just a simple spell," said Glinda, her voice dissonantly calm. "I've had time to learn and perfect it. Miss Greyling would be so proud."
Morrible turned and narrowly observed her with one hand still on the handle. "What in the name of Oz are you talking about?"
Glinda thinly smiled. "Oh, don't you know? I have a talent for sorcery. I'm actually rather gifted. But for this…" she said as she held out her hand over the different chemicals on the table. One by one, the bottles rose up across the stacks and the shelves. They drifted near the figure of Madame Morrible, who watched with an incredulous expression. Then, in an instant, they exploded in a shower of glass and foul-smelling solvents. Morrible shrieked and covered her face as they sprayed all over her dress.
"I never could manage that levitation spell," said Glinda with a sigh.
"You sick little fool!" cried Morrible with a snarl as the chemicals burned her flesh. She struggled to wipe them off of her arms along with the shards of glass. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? I swear I'm going to—"
But she stopped.
Glinda was standing above the spill, holding the lantern in her hand. Her arm was raised above her shoulder which bled from the shattered glass.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. Their gazes were locked on each other.
"Glinda," said Morrible all too carefully, "what do you think you're doing?"
"I'm telling the story," said Glinda calmly. "I am its author, after all."
Morrible quickly raised her gun, but Glinda held the lantern even higher. "Do it, Madame. Pull the trigger. I'm going to encourage you. Do you trust yourself to shoot that gun, hoping the small spark from the powder won't ignite the chemicals on your hands? Or do you hope that the bullet will kill me and prevent me from dropping this lantern? My grip is weak. My arm is tired. I can't hold it for long. Either way, my dear Madame Morrible, you're not going to leave this room."
The intensity of her gaze matched the steel of her words. Morrible knew she was serious.
"Glinda," she said as she tightened her grip on the gun's bone-white handle. "You don't want to do anything foolish here. Let's discuss this rationally—"
"You would have destroyed her," said Glinda quietly. "You would have destroyed us all. She never would have been free of you, Madame, no matter how far she ran. You would have taken her love, her hope, and eventually even her sanity. Oz's fate would rest in the hands of devils, liars, and charlatans. I can't allow that, Madame Morrible. Her faith will not be deterred. I won't allow you to murder everything that I so deeply love about her."
Morrible's forehead was beginning to sweat. The pistol in her hand was shaking. "Listen to me, girl," she muttered darkly, "I don't know what evil you're speaking of—"
"The world is evil, my dear Madame Morrible, and we are its finest creations. Spun from a tragedy that waits to devour this cursed Oz we live in."
"What do you want?" said Morrible panicking. "Let's be reasonable about this! You want to leave Shiz? Fine! It's done! You can pack your bags tonight! You want Miss Elphaba to leave here with you? Perfect! Amity is yours! Just open that door and walk out of this room and I'll grant you whatever you desire."
"What do I want?" said Glinda with a smile that never reached her eyes. "I want you to watch as the veil draws back and history is rewritten. The dragon is stirring, Madame Morrible; it's finally ready to awaken. Soon, these dreams will all be over, and nothing will remain but our sins."
Silence followed her impassive remark; the light in her eyes waxed dim. The seconds that passed were as long as a lifetime, ticking beneath her skin.
"Glinda," said Morrible in a strangled whisper as her finger tensed on the trigger.
"Look," said Glinda, as calm as the grave. "It is only death."
A silent tear rolled down her cheek, catching just under her chin.
Morrible lunged for her in an instant.
The lantern smashed to the ground.
A moment of sharp, searing heat and a deep inhalation of fire. Soul meeting flesh in a brilliant dance that spun the flames surrounding her. It was light and darkness and a pain so real that it consumed every sensation. But soon it amended in the full awakening of the spirit's transformation.
She thought she heard Madame Morrible screaming, but then, it could be her laughter. Madness became clarity. Clarity became truth. And truth was the refiner's fire.
A ring of expectant faces appeared, just as the light seared her vision. The flames rose up and framed each figure as they stretched and scalded the skin. There was mama in her beautiful gown, waiting at the foot of the stairs. And there was papa, lifting her in his arms and covering her with tobacco-scented kisses.
There was Ama Musser and Ama Wynn; minders that came and went. They were quickly joined by Ama Clutch, who was cheerful and freely content. Temen waited near the tree by the river, winding across the glen. His skin looked perfect, beautiful and whole. His smile was as bright as the sun.
And there was Boq, charming and handsome if not just a little too small. Crope and Tibbett, Avaric and Fiyero, Milla and Pfannee and Shenshen. Nanny and Nessarose stood to the side, forming the circle's completion. And most of all, there was Elphaba, whose skin was more beautiful than a city of emeralds… holding a heart that was greater than all of the empires of the world.
The Land of Oz became a wonder that entranced the imagination. It was strange and colorful, weird but beautiful. A place for children to believe in. Within its memory, legends were woven on the thread of a narrative's strain. Glinda's story would soon be over, but Elphaba's was only beginning.
And as history succumbed to the refining fire that engulfed the ground where she stood, she smiled in triumph; her victory wrought.
She was Glinda the Good.
The carriage thundered along the streets with the clatter of wheels and hooves. It tore across the university district masked in a cloud of fog. The journey back had taken less time than when they'd arrived in the provinces, but to Elphaba it felt like they were traveling through the haze of a never-ending nightmare.
She had relieved Nessarose of her coats and scarves for which Nessa was profoundly grateful. Her nose had stopped bleeding some time earlier, but the cut on her lip was still swollen. Elphaba treated her wounds with gentle if not distracted care, all the while damning herself for being so hopelessly blind.
She'd left her alone. She'd left her alone. How could she have been so careless? Her instincts and reasoning were going to kill her under the strain of her fears. Nessa had desperately tried to assure her that everything would be alright, but it was obvious that she couldn't say the words with even a modicum of believability.
They smelled the smoke before they saw it, rising up in the distance. Nessa was the first to notice it as Elphaba was still dressing her lip.
"Elphaba…" her sister whispered in pure, horrified shock. Elphaba looked up into wide, startled eyes, then turned and glanced out the window.
A strange orange glow surrounded the campus under a blanket of smoke. It was difficult to see beyond the knotted trees that lined the outside wall. Voices were shouting off in the distance near a group of empty fire wagons. It must have been every cart and carrier within the university district.
The sensation in Elphaba's breast leapt from shock to raw, unfathomable terror. She slid over the seat and grasped the window with hot, trembling fingers.
There was a fire somewhere on the campus grounds. It was destroying one of the buildings. Elphaba watched with unparalleled horror, still uncomprehending. It was the moment she sensed that her world had come crashing down violently on top of her. Whatever had happened or however it had started, she knew that Glinda was involved in it.
The carriage driver slowed to a stop some distance behind a barricade. Firemen and policemen were scattered across the campus grounds, blocking traffic and shouting for everyone to stay a far distance back. They were running a hose and pump through the gate down to the Suicide Canal. It looked too flimsy and far too feeble to make any sort of am impact.
The campus building was going to burn.
Nothing was going to stop it.
Elphaba was out of the carriage in and instant and took off at a run. Her heart was pounding like a hammer in her breast; she was screaming murder into the night. But when she passed the trees that had blocked her already clouded vision, it all became dreadfully real…
… A horror too sublime for fiction.
High above in the western tower of the soaring Crage Hall building, white hot flames of a blazing fire were quickly devouring everything. They sparked in a glorious conflagration, searing the stars in the heavens. The fire smoldered like the roaring thunder, or even the howl of a dragon.
Elphaba fell to her knees on the ground, staring helplessly at the flames. The inferno engulfed the face of the building; the firemen couldn't contain it. She felt her sister's body beside her, curling around her frame. But Nessarose had no arms to hold her. It was a pitiful, clumsy embrace.
The blackened smoke rose up into the clouds, blinding the stars from her sight.
But perhaps that was only the painful sting of tears that burned her eyes.
A/N: *gasps* Is this the end? Not quite, dear readers…not quite. We've one more chapter left to go before this story finds an ending. Look for the update sometime next week as I don't intend to keep you waiting. It took me a year to finish this animal, and I hope you've had as much fun reading it as I've had writing it. =D
First and foremost, I wanted to say thank you to everyone that's been following along with this story. I'm incredibly flattered that my disturbed little mind could amuse and interest so many of you... particularly those in random countries that I've never been to before. Hello people in Germany and Singapore! Hello people in Brazil! Hello to everyone that lives overseas and is reading my American filth!
I'm especially grateful to all of my readers who have taken the time to leave me feedback. I seriously would love to marry you all if that were humanly possible. Your words and your comments have been so encouraging, and they've helped me to learn and become a better writer with every passing day. I adore you all so very much and am grateful you've managed to stick with me. =)
My gratitude also extends to the tarts from the gelphie_lovers LJ community. You kids are just an absolute riot and I love the stuffing out of you.
I would also be incredibly remiss if I didn't thank my lovely beta, the irreplaceable Miss Navona. She has sifted through 100,000+ words of crazy, fixing all of my grammatical errors and slapping me around when things stopped making sense. I highly recommend her services to anyone and would also recommend her brilliant stories to those looking for some well-written fiction. Much love to you, Miss Navona. I couldn't have done it without you.
And last (but certainly never least) I'd like to thank Messers Baum and Maguire for giving us the Land of Oz with so many beautiful characters. I own nothing myself, apart from Temen, but I'm glad they were willing to share with me.
When I started this story, I wasn't sure if I'd actually be able to make it work. I had this idea spinning around in my head, but there was always the question of whether or not I could do it sufficient justice. Did I succeed? Was it an absolute failure? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Tell me if you hated it. Tell me if you loved it. Don't hold back any punches.
If you still have questions, wait till the end. Not all truths have been revealed. But some truths must remain a mystery, as that is the nature of stories. *wink*