Chapter 6: Thai Mol Piyas

Despite banishing her from the castle, the Wizard saw the gypsy girl everywhere he looked. She had consumed him, infecting his mind with her chocolate eyes, the sound of her voice, her emerald skin. If he stared at one spot to long, his mind would wander, and he could see her dancing there, the tambourine tapping against her hip, her body swaying with the rhythm. The Wizard had cancelled most of his meetings, spending most of his time shut up in his room. The staff had noticed, murmuring to one another, rumors spreading, mostly about him being sick with some mysterious illness. Only the three maids who tended to the Wizard's daughter had any idea of the truth, and they were not telling. When Glinda had spilled the story to them, the three had decided to take a vow of silence, acting as if they heard and knew nothing. They went on their normal duties, although they now acted as spies, noting where the Wizard was at all times, what soldiers came and went, what exits were left unguarded. Glinda had also refused to leave her room, burying herself in her magical studies. Madame Morrible had been thrilled that Glinda was finally becoming serious about magic.

If only she knew for what purpose.

The Wizard, unable to sleep alone in his cold, dark chamber, grabbed his overcoat and set off into the city. This became a ritual that he would perform night after night, walking the empty streets of the Emerald City, wandering into darker and more unsavory alleys each night. He would wander, brainless, almost as if led by a ghost. He had no idea what he was doing, or what he was looking for. He knew that a man of his stature was basically a sitting duck in these parts of the city. But he didn't care. He was obsessed with the gypsy with emerald skin. He was out of his mind, for he could not get her out of his mind.

One night, he found himself wandering down a pitch black alley. He was drawing closer to the poorest and most violent part of the Emerald City, a part that most of the Gale Force even avoided. He turned a corner, and heard the sound of distant music. He followed the music, the sound reeling him in like he was hooked to a lure. He rounded another corner and found himself at a tavern. A sign swung from the roof, LA POMME D'EVE painted in peeling red cursive. The Wizard stood next to the window, his face pressed up against the glass. He was so distracted that he didn't notice two of his own men walk past him and enter through the front door.

Fiyero had his friend Avaric by the arm, almost dragging him into the tavern.

"Are you sure about this?" the young guard asked. "I've heard about this place."

"And everything you heard is true," replied Fiyero, grinning. "This is epicenter of lasciviousness and debauchery."

Avaric gulped. "Oh great."

"You're damn right it's great." Fiyero laughed, stepping up to the bar.

The tavern was already wild, mostly full of gypsy men and women. The drinks were flowing, the tables a hodgepodge of liquor, beer, and wine. The gypsies were dancing, a small group of musicians playing a fast-paced tune in the corner of the room. One of the men did a flying kick into the air, dropping into a split, eliciting a cheer from the other patrons. The alcohol was doing it's job; men and women had started to pair off, some going upstairs, some not even bothering. Fiyero placed two gold coins on the bar. This was his kind of place.

"Excuse me, but we don't serve Gale Force here." Boq, the leader of the gypsies, leaned against the bar.

"Relax, I'm off the clock," replied Fiyero. "I'm just looking for a little rest and recreation for myself and my friend Avaric over here." Fiyero gestured to the young guard, who waved back awkwardly.

"Well then," said Boq. "I'm sure we can arrange that. There are plenty of women here who could use some company on this cold night. Find one you like. We take gold only."

Fiyero sent down a shot of whiskey, passing another off to Avaric. Avaric looked at his Captain, sighed in defeat, and sent the liquor down his throat in one fell swoop. A few more shots later, and the young soldier had vanished. Fiyero had no idea where he went, but he figured that Avaric was a trained soldier and could handle himself (or maybe, he found himself a woman and couldn't handle himself). Fiyero had been roaming about the tavern, eyeing the sea of gorgeous ladies before him, trying to find himself the perfect girl for the evening. He stopped looking, however, when a green flash went past his vision.

Glinda groaned in frustration, slamming the ancient book closed as hard as she could.

"Now Miss Glinda, don't take your anger out on the book," said Laverne, adding clean clothes to the middle drawers of the blonde's dresser. "The book didn't do anything to you."

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly helping me, either."

"It's a book, not a living thing."

"Madame said that magic is alive, and since there is magic in the book, then the book is alive."

Laverne looked at her, nonplussed. "I thought the book had spells written in it, not magic itself."

"Well…um…it's kind of both…once you write the spell in it, it's kind of like some magic infuses into it. It's kind of hard to explain."

Laverne rolled her eyes. "If you say so." Laverne moved towards the bed, working on folding the giant pile of laundry that sat there. Glinda stood with her, decided that folding was less frustrating than what she was doing. She flipped one of her blouses around, holding it to her chest so that she could fold both sides evenly.

"Your father will kill me if he finds out you're folding your own laundry," said Laverne.

"Oh don't worry, he won't have a clue," said Glinda sardonically. "He has barely left his office in weeks. Probably having too many wet dreams."

Laverne smacked the blonde on the shoulder with a towel.

"You watch your mouth, Miss Glinda. Don't talk like that. It's nasty."

"Nasty talk for a nasty person," she mumbled to herself, her hands grasping onto a baby pink towel. She picked up the towel, but felt it tug, as if something was weighing it down. She pulled a little harder, and felt something heavy flop onto the comforter. She looked at Laverne, who wore a cheeky smile on her face.

"Miss Azra found something interesting the other day. She said it used to belong to her father. She has no use for it now, so she figured you might have a better need for it."

Glinda reached into the laundry pile, her hand grasping onto cold metal. She removed her hand from the pile, her eyes growing in shock. She was holding onto the handle of a knife, dark gray metal etched with vines and an arrow. She flicked the black switch on the side of the handle, and the blade flung out in a millisecond. The blade itself was jet black, with a slightly jagged edge. She continued to examine it, the metal giving her hands that distinctive smell. She flipped the switch again, returning the blade to its safe spot. She pulled Laverne into a hug.

"If you see Azra before I do, tell her thank you. I mean it."

"My darling, I pray that you never have to use it, but I also pray that if the situation comes up, that you ram that thing into whatever bastard tries to hurt you. I wish I would have had this to give to you the night of the Festival."

"It's okay Laverne, it really is." Glinda's attention had returned to the weapon. She had been studying her magic, but she remembered how it felt to be in a place where you were so afraid that your mind shut off. She would need something more tactile, something more practical for that particular situation.

Glinda felt a small surge of courage. Her time was coming, and when it would finally make it, she would be ready.

"Elphaba! There you are!"

Boq took the green girl by the hand. "I was wondering when you were going to join us."

"Well I'm here now, aren't I?" she replied, smirking at the gypsy leader.

"Dance for us!" cried one of her comrades.

Elphaba laughed. "Not unless you're paying me."

"Oh come on," complained another. "Dance for us, Elphaba!"

As if on cue, the musicians switched songs. The fiddle dug in, the bow almost shrieking against the strings. The tune moved wildly fast, filled with accidentals, giving it a dark feel. Elphaba cracked a smile and shook her head.

"Damn it, Hawthorne, you know this is my favorite."

Elphaba had a glass in her hand, brown liquor sitting with some ice. She sent the entire thing down in one shot, impressing Fiyero, setting the glass on the table with a defined clunk.

"Fine, fine, let's do this."

Two of the men took her hands, helping her up onto one of the tables. The patrons quickly grabbed their drinks and moved, as if this was not an uncommon occurrence at the tavern. Elphaba kicked up, her skirt flipping into the air. Fiyero once again found himself entranced by her. She was wearing a different outfit than he remembered. She still had on a white blouse that exposed her shoulders, but this time wore a teal corset that sat under her chest and cinched in down to the hip, where a royal purple skirt flowed like a waterfall to just above her ankles. She spun on the table, her feet tapping the wood in a rhythmic pattern. The patrons had their drinks in the air, and many were clapping along with her. They continued like this until the song ended, the fiddler hitting the final note with an impending rasp. The crowd cheered, laughing and hollering. Elphaba leapt off the table, heading back over to the bar for another drink. Fiyero had started to move towards her, but Boq got in the way.

"Did you find a woman you like, Captain?" he asked. "I haven't seen you off with on yet."

"Oh, I've found one…"

Boq followed the Captain's gaze to the emerald-skinned woman.

"Unfortunately, the one you are looking at is off limits. Elphaba is already spoken for."

"Oh am I?"

Elphaba was right behind Boq, her arms crossed, one dark eyebrow raised. "Nobody speaks for me, Boq, not even you."

"I was just looking out for you."

"I'm a big girl. I can look after myself."

"Suit yourself." Boq walked away, leaving the two alone.

"What are you doing here, Captain?" asked Elphaba. "This isn't exactly a place known for good morals."

"Maybe that's why I've come here."

"Oh really? Are you here for some bad behavior?"

"Maybe I am," Fiyero took another sip of his drink. "I came here with a fellow soldier, although at this point, it's seems that I've lost him."

"Well, that's a pity."

"Eh, well, he's honestly not really who I'm looking for."

Elphaba rested both elbows on the counter. "Who are you looking for, then?"

Fiyero smiled. "What if I told you that I was looking for you?"

Elphaba stood up, a sly smile crossing her lips. "Well, here I am. You've found me. Now what?"

"I heard you got kicked out of the castle," stated Fiyero, a little bit drunk. "If I see you again, I'm supposed to…oh I don't know…maybe capture you…get you in trouble somehow...honestly, I don't even remember"

Elphaba let out a small laugh. "Well Captain, if you were supposed to capture me, then you aren't being a very good soldier."

Fiyero used the alcohol to his advantage, the dark liquor giving him a little bit more courage. He took a step forward, placing his hand on top of Elphaba's. She didn't pull away from him. He leaned into her, his eyes meeting hers like they did back in the chapel. He blinked a few times, taking her in, making sure that she was real and that he wasn't hallucinating.

"I thought I already told you that I wasn't a very good soldier."

"So what are you going to do, Captain?" Elphaba's voice had dropped a bit, coming out a bit more raspy. "Am I in trouble?"

"I think I'm the one who's in trouble."

Fiyero cupped her face in his hand, his rough fingers running over the soft skin of her face. He took a deep breath, finding himself more courage, and he kissed her. He expected her to jump back, to pull away, maybe even to slap him and curse him out. Instead, she parted her lips, allowed his tongue to explore her mouth. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him, her body pressed up against his. Her fingers crawled up his neck, tangling in his hair. He felt himself come alive, heat radiating from his skin. He was in trouble, all right. He was absolutely in trouble.

The pair was also in trouble for another reason.

The Wizard had been watching the entire scene unfold from outside the tavern. He had been horrified at the vile, disgusting display of lewdness. He tried his best to turn away, to leave, but he couldn't. It was as if an invisible force held him to the spot, forcing him to watch. The Wizard had felt nausea sitting in his throat the entire time, but when he saw Elphaba, his obsession, kissing the Captain of the guard, he leaned over, vomiting onto the ground outside the tavern. When he felt the residue of bile burning his throat, he spit and stood up. The rage he felt on the balcony returned, pushing all rational thought out of his mind. He had tried to ignore her, to remove her from his sight, to forget about her, but he couldn't. Now here she was, fornicating with the Captain of Gale Force. Not just that, but the Captain of his army. Intrusive thoughts invaded the Wizard's head, filling his mind with pictures of the two of them together, her on the Captain's lap, his hands running down the green skin of her bare back, her head thrown back in ecstacy. The Wizard fell to the ground, the damp earth sinking into fabric over his knees. He held his head, trying to force the images of Elphaba and Fiyero together from him mind. The rage engulfed him, destroying any bit of decency left in the man.

With a huff, he stood up, ignoring the mud sticking to his pant legs. Without casting another look at the tavern, he stormed off, determined. He was going to end this, once and for all.

If Elphaba wouldn't be his, then she would die.