Oz burned its way through autumn but lingered on the brink of winter. Everything at Shiz was dead or frozen, yet not a single flake of snow found its way to the campus. The anticipation of it filled the air.
Or maybe it was just in Glinda's head.
Her classes began to pick up as the semester dragged on, and she found herself drowning in her course work more than ever before. To make matters worse, Morrible started assigning her extra homework.
Glinda spent long nights at the library. She didn't really mind. It made it easy to avoid her half-empty room, and as long as she was curled up in a chair and staring blankly out the window, no one bothered her.
Her sessions with Morrible grew longer and longer until she was spending nearly an hour with her after class. The headmistress seemed to be losing patience with her, and the exercises showed it. She had Glinda maintain a steady fire while she asked all sorts of questions about Nikidik or Pfannee or Avaric. She sat Glinda near the window on a particularly stormy day and watched while she sorted various weights without touching them. She taught Glinda how to put up a sort of shield of air around herself, then proceeded to throw blasts of magic at her until she nearly collapsed.
It was exhausting, infuriating, unnerving, and after each session she would stumble out of the sorcery building with a fresh score of burns and bruises. But while Glinda's control weakened, her power seemed to grow. She would reach a point, when the magic bubbled uselessly within her and the headmistress was smirking down at her, when some hidden pool of energy would be tapped and her power would surge. It was happening more and more often, and while Morrible would only mildly scold her for it, Glinda was starting to get worried.
And then came a day, just a couple of weeks after she repaired the bundle of clothes, that Morrible set a metal bucket on the floor and placed a small, torn piece of paper in front of Glinda.
Glinda didn't even bother asking what it was. She just crossed her arms tighter over her chest and waited.
"You recall, I am sure, our lesson on casting dual spells?"
She nodded without looking up. Morrible pushed the paper closer.
"I want you to cast these spells together."
She looked at the sheet, her brow furrowing. "Madame," she said slowly. "These spells are opposites."
"Your point?"
"They contradict each other," said Glinda. "Contradicting spells are—"
"I gave you an assignment, Miss Glinda. I expect you to do it."
"Casting these spells simultaneously would take a great deal of power—"
"Which you have exhibited these past few lessons—"
"But the control they require as well—Madame Morrible, I can't do this. If I mess up, the consequences—"
"My dear, how in Oz do you expect any improvement if you do not challenge yourself?"
"But—"
"I will keep you here all night if I must. Now cast these spells. And aim for the bucket, will you? I don't want you burning my classroom down."
Glinda pressed her lips together, but reached with a shaky hand for the paper. Two spells, fire and ice, were scribbled down. She had never managed to pull off dual casting when they learned it in class a few weeks ago. How could Morrible expect her to do it now?
She swallowed and stood up, taking a few steps back from the headmistress and facing the bucket. Fire would be easy enough, but she had never tried conjuring ice before. And at the same time? Morrible herself had warned them of the dangers of casting opposites. Unless you had absolute control, the spells would fight each other for dominance, consuming your energy faster than you could keep up with.
"I'm waiting, Miss Glinda."
Glinda raised her right hand and opened her palm. A small, pinkish flame burst to life above her skin. She took a deep breath and raised her other hand, focusing on the pool of energy in the center of her palm, where the bones of her fingers started. Her skin tingled and grew colder.
The flames went out.
"Focus," Morrible said.
She clenched her teeth. The fingers on her left hand twitched, so she turned her attention to that. This time a shiver went up her entire arm and the temperature seemed to plummet around her palm. A light appeared above her hand—not pink, but pale blue. The ice released in a blast and she twisted her hand to point it at the bucket. She watched as the magic covered the metal with a thickening layer of ice and frost. Then, taking a deep breath, she brought her right hand back up. She thought of heat prickling at her skin, of ice shooting from her palm. She took another breath.
The flames jumped to life above her hand, and she quickly aimed them at the bucket. Immediately, she felt the two spells surge through her, clashing together somewhere in the middle.
"Excellent," Morrible said, standing and leaning forward. "Keep it up."
Glinda's arms were trembling. She tried to take a breath but only managed a shallow, choked gasp. Her flames sputtered, but Morrible growled something behind her, so she flexed her fingers and poured more power into the spell.
She could feel the energy leaving her, like blood draining from her face, only all over her body. Her knees shook beneath her, threatening to give out. She sucked in air.
"I can't—"
"You're doing fine," Morrible insisted. "Keep going."
It felt as though the two spells were fighting each other in her chest, doing their best to destroy each other and her with it. Waves of hot and cold flashed through her. Sweat beaded at her forehead while she shivered violently. Spots began to fill the edges of her vision. It suddenly became too much and, not caring what Morrible would say, she jerked both hands back, letting go of the magic flowing through her.
Nothing happened. The spells kept going, stealing her energy. Her head pounded and she clenched her fists, trying to extinguish the flames and the ice.
"I-I can't—I need to stop—"
"So stop." Morrible's voice was venomous. "If you insist on failure."
Glinda opened her mouth to protest, but the rest of her breath left her in a rush. Morrible made a noise of disapproval and turned away, and something in Glinda snapped. She spun around and poured all of her strength into the spells once more, aiming them both at the headmistress.
But Morrible simply raised a hand and deflected the magic. Glinda pushed harder, but whatever energy anger had given her was quickly fading. Her legs finally gave out beneath her, and as she fell to her knees the spells faltered and disappeared.
"You continue to disappoint, Miss Glinda."
Glinda raised herself to glare up at the headmistress. "Those spells—I could've—"
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. You are more than capable of such magic. You just lack a good work ethic."
Her fists clenched against the ground. "I'm trying, I just—"
"You are distracted. You are too consumed with outside influences, particularly your missing green—"
"Do not talk about her," Glinda hissed. "Don't even mention her."
Morrible's eyes narrowed. "You are letting your feelings for her control you. Look at yourself. Is she really worth all this suffering?"
"I said, don't talk about her!"
"Fine." Morrible held up a hand. "If that's what you wish. You are dismissed for the day. But I hope you think about what I've been telling you. I hate to see such talent wasted on something this foolish."
The headmistress turned and headed for the door. Glinda waited for her to go, then climbed shakily to her feet. She brushed off her clothes and grabbed her bag.
"It's not foolish," she muttered, glaring at the ground as she started to walk away. "It's not."
"You know, I think maybe you should ask to move."
Elphaba scowled at Peric, even as she pulled out one of her bottles of oil. It had been a rainy week, and the tunnels were seeping with moisture. Her clothes kept out the worst of it, but her skin was still stinging viciously by the time they reached the main cavern.
"I'm serious, Fae."
"Where would I even go?" she asked. She shed her cloak, hat, and gloves, revealing a faded frock with thin straps. She poured oil into her palm and began rubbing it into her left shoulder.
"Where did you live before the underground?"
She snorted. "Whatever filthy alleyway I could find that wasn't too crowded."
Peric clicked his beak. "There wasn't anywhere? An abandoned shack, an old warehouse, something?"
"There was one place." She thought back to the weeks spent in the slums, sleeping behind trash bins or shacks or, if she could manage, rooftops. "It was an old corn exchange, pretty far from the main part of the slums. I've never been inside, but I slept outside it a few times—mostly on the roof."
"It's empty?"
"I never saw anyone going in or out."
"We should check it out."
She shifted around to tug off her boots and socks. She poured more oil into her palm and started on a particularly bad spot near her ankle.
"I don't know," she said. "You really think they'd let us move?"
Peric stared at her as she worked. "I think it would be cruel not to."
The rain stayed steady in the city, and nearly a week passed before they could venture out to go looking for the corn exchange. But eventually they did, on a night where they had no jobs, and Elphaba was shocked at how easily she could still find her way through the worst parts of the Emerald City.
"I always forget how gross this city can be," Peric said, lifting a wing with something close to disdain. Elphaba smirked.
"Come on, I think it's this way."
She led him down a side street. The buildings around them began to spread out, becoming less crowded and more abandoned, until they were wandering through a neighborhood of empty, run-down warehouses. Elphaba slowed her pace and pointed at a building ahead of them.
"There."
Peric pushed off the ground and flew forward. She watched him do a circle over the building, then land lightly on a windowsill and peer in through where the glass had shattered and fallen out. He twisted to look at her as she approached.
"I don't see anyone."
"You think it's completely abandoned?"
His eye gleamed in the darkness. "Only one way to find out."
Elphaba nodded and stepped back as he swooped down to her. They crept toward the door together, and she pressed a hand to the lock. Their eyes met for a moment, then she looked down and focused on the door.
"There's no lock," she said after a moment.
"Seriously?"
"I can't find anything. But it's not opening, either." Her brow furrowed.
"Is it barred?"
She pushed against the door. "Maybe."
"Blast it open."
"I can't just go around blasting things open, Peric. Someone would hear."
"Do it quietly."
She gave him a look. He clicked his beak and unfurled his wings. "Fine. I'll go see if there's a window or something big enough for me to get through."
Elphaba slumped against the door and slid down. It was quiet in this part of the slums. She could hear nothing but the sad, quiet whistling of the breeze, and the occasional shudder of the building as Peric moved around.
And footsteps.
Her head snapped up. She narrowed her eyes and stared down the street. It was too dark to see, but the sharp clip of boots against concrete was getting closer.
"Hey, Peric?" she called softly. No response. "Someone's coming."
She felt more than saw the Bird fly back around the building. He landed soundlessly next to her and followed her gaze toward the road.
"Soldiers," he whispered.
"Gale Force?"
"I don't think so. Just soldiers. But we need to go."
She got to her feet and followed him around the back of the building. They hurried back the way they came, being careful to stay out of sight of the main road.
"How many?" she asked under her breath.
"I only saw two. But if they're wandering this far out it's probably because they're doing sweeps."
"So there's more nearby."
"They'll be all over the place by now."
She bit back a curse and ducked lower. The sounds of marching footsteps were beginning to echo through the streets. She caught glimpses of people hurrying indoors or shrinking further into the shadows.
They stopped in a smaller alley and crouched down.
"You think we can wait it out?" she asked.
Peric didn't answer. He shifted his weight, scratching at the ground beneath him. Elphaba glanced out into the street, then back at him.
"You should leave," she said, voice low. "If they see you out here—"
"They'll arrest me, I know." His neck was curled in close to his body and the feathers in his wings twitched and rippled. She had never seen him look so anxious—not that she could blame him. There was a reason no Animals were ever seen in the streets.
"So go," she said. "Fly off. I can catch up later."
He shook his head. "They'd see me."
"Maybe. But even if they did you could get away."
"And raise all the alarms so they shut down the entire district? No way."
She looked back out into the road. "Alright fine. Got any better ideas?"
"Yes. We sneak out of here and get back to the underground."
"They could follow us."
Peric clicked his beak, agitated. "Well let's at least get out of here, okay?"
"Okay, okay." She leaned back against the wall and thought.
He shuffled his wings. "Most of these alleys are connected, right? We should be able to stick to them and keep away from the road."
"And if the soldiers are searching the alleys, too?"
"We'll deal with that when we have to. Let's go."
Elphaba climbed to her feet and followed him further away from the road. Peric flapped his wings in short, frantic bursts, but he stayed on the ground, allowing her to stay close. The sound of footsteps faded just a little as they went, but they could hear shouting from a few blocks away.
They moved faster.
Peric led the way deeper into the city, away from the worst part of the slums. They started seeing fewer guards, but the neighborhood was still empty. Windows were shut tight, the curtains drawn. Even the streetlamps seemed to be dimmer than usual.
Peric stopped short and hopped back, leaning into her. Elphaba peered in front of them, straining to see what Peric apparently saw.
"Hey!"
Too late, she noticed the trio of soldiers standing near the entrance of the alley. She jerked back, pulling her hat down.
"Let's move!" she hissed. They retreated back the way they came, listening to the men shouting behind them.
Peric jumped and swerved sideways, gliding through a window in the building beside them. Elphaba leapt up, barely managing to grab the sill and clamber through after him. Someone called out, not too far away.
"There! Through that window!"
"You in there! Come out or we'll bust down the door."
"This way." Peric appeared beside her, tugging at her cloak to get her to move. She stumbled back as something hit the door. It shuddered but held, and Peric tugged harder. "Hurry!"
They moved further into the room, weaving through giant crates and tall, empty shelves. Elphaba kept looking over her shoulder, flinching every time the soldiers rammed against the door.
"It won't hold," she breathed.
"There's got to be a back way out," said Peric. "A side door, another window…something."
But as they looked around, it became painfully obvious that they had trapped themselves in an old warehouse, and the only way out was in plain sight of the soldiers. The building groaned around them, and from the front door they heard the men cry out as they rushed inside. Elphaba and Peric ducked behind a stack of crates, doing their best to blend in with the shadows.
"Fly," she breathed.
"What?"
She peered through the warehouse. The soldiers were still out of sight.
"Fly out of here."
"And leave you stranded here?" Peric hissed. "Not a chance."
"I'll make it out. If they see you they'll arrest you on sight—or worse."
"Fae, you're green. The Wizard knows who you are. You're no better off than I am."
"See anything?" a soldier called.
"Nothing over here but some cleaning supplies."
Elphaba clenched her teeth. "Will you just go? I'll be fine."
"No."
"Over there!"
They both winced and shrank back against the crates. Peric brought his wings in tight and looked around.
"Can't you use your magic?" he asked. "Blast a way out of here!"
"These walls are concrete," she hissed. "I can't just—"
The sound of a gunshot cut her off.
"That's a warning," one of the soldiers called. "Show yourselves now, or next time I won't be aiming for the air."
"Fae, look at me. You have to try."
She screwed her eyes shut and tried to focus, but the magic wouldn't come. Panic flooded through her instead, and she was unwillingly reminded of the night with Dillamond at the inn, of being trapped with Glinda in the cellar beneath the library.
"Fly out," she told Peric, choking on the words. "Please, get out of here."
He shook his head and moved closer. His head nudged against her shoulder, warm and oddly steady. She looked up again, focusing on the wall behind them and taking a shaky breath.
Nothing happened.
"What was that?" one of the soldiers said. "Over there, something moved."
A pair of footsteps crossed the room, away from them. Elphaba's shoulders slumped.
"I can't," she breathed. "I don't know how—I can't—"
Something poked at her leg and she jumped, scrambling back. Peric nearly squawked beside her, staring wide-eyed at…
"What in Oz?"
Elphaba stared at it. It was a broom—an old, dusty, flying broom.
"No way…"
"Did you hear that? Over there, check those crates."
She crawled forward and wrapped a hand around the handle of the broom. She looked at Peric.
"Are you sure?" he asked. She nodded and pulled the broom closer. Peric stared at her for a moment longer, then turned and leapt into the air.
"There!" the soldiers cried.
"What is it?"
"An Animal! Shoot it!"
Gunshots rang out, but Peric just laughed. Elphaba swung a leg over the broom. It seemed to hum with energy beneath her.
"Oz, I hope this works," she mumbled. She planted her feet and pushed off the ground.
The broom sailed into the air, and for a moment Elphaba was convinced she had left all her insides on the ground. She was vaguely aware of more shouting beneath her, followed by gunshots, but the broom had a mind of its own. It swerved to the side, Elphaba holding on for dear life, and avoided the danger.
Peric flew up beside her, cursing in amazement. "How did you—"
Another shot echoed through the room and he turned sharply. She glared down at the soldiers.
"I wonder…"
Tightening her grip, she pushed the broom down. It obeyed, tilting smoothly into a dive. The men raised their guns, but then cried out and leapt to the side as she flew at them. She pulled up sharply and soared back into the air, letting out a wild cackle. Now she understood what Peric couldn't explain. Flying was…was…
"Hey Fae!" Peric called. "If you're done messing around, I'd like to get out of here!"
She grinned and turned toward him. He swooped low and flew out the front doors with Elphaba following close behind.
They landed a few blocks away from the warehouse. Elphaba hit the ground hard and rolled quite ungracefully across the alley. Peric settled gently beside her, biting back laughter.
"Shut up," she muttered, climbing to her hands and knees. "Ow."
"What happened back there?" he asked. He hopped closer to the broom, but it bucked away and flew to hover behind Elphaba.
"I…don't know." She sat up and placed a hand on the wooden handle. "I panicked. I didn't think I did anything…"
Peric cocked his head and stared at the broom. "I thought you said you couldn't enchant an object to fly."
"I did." She slumped back against the wall. "You think it's safe to go home?"
He looked out into the street. "Yeah," he said. "Let's go home."
Despite all the trouble they encountered at the corn exchange, Elphaba and Peric quickly got permission to leave the underground. Less than a week later, she was packing up the few belongings they had in their quarters. She paused for a moment, her mother's green bottle in her hand, and thought about the last time she had done this.
"Fae?"
She jumped a little. "S-sorry. I'm coming."
Peric moved into the room, staring curiously at the bottle. She wrapped her fingers around it, the green of her skin blending oddly with the slight glow of the glass.
"What is that?"
"I don't know," she said honestly, tucking the bottle into her bag. "It was my mother's—the only thing I have left of her. I've just kept it ever since."
"I've never seen it before."
She shrugged. "I…usually keep it hidden." Except for when little blondes mess with my stuff. She swallowed hard. "Anyway. You ready to go?"
She felt his stare on her, but avoided it by busying herself with her bag.
"Yeah, sure," said Peric. "Let's get out of here."
They crept through the city. Elphaba kept her bag tucked under her cloak and the broom slung across her shoulder.
She was learning quickly how to control the thing, and Oz was it addicting. In the past few days alone she had spent hours doing laps around the main cavern in the underground. Sometimes Peric would fly ahead of her, leading her through dives and loops. The broom responded to even the most subtle commands—a slight adjustment of her weight, a gentle pull to one side or the other. She was even getting better at landing, though she had a score of scrapes and bruises that said otherwise.
They reached the corn exchange without any incident. Elphaba hopped onto her broom and followed Peric around the back of the building and through a window.
One look inside was enough to see that the place had been completely abandoned, possibly for years. There was a visible layer of dust coating everything—including the ground. Elphaba slid off her broom, her feet hitting the floor harder than she intended, and she still made no noise. She looked over at Peric, who was sending dirt clouds into the air with every flutter of his wings.
"It's a good thing you've got a broom," he said. She rolled her eyes.
"Come on," she said. "Let's explore."
It was larger than it seemed on the outside. There were two stories, but the only staircase was half-destroyed and she wasn't sure if she trusted the second floor not to collapse beneath her feet. Peric flew up there to check it out while she wandered around the ground floor. Crates and shelves were scattered throughout the room. Spare boards—some rotting, some still intact, leaned against the walls. There were two doors—the front one, and a double door on the wall furthest from the street. Both were boarded up, but several windows stood open, their broken panes rattling in the wind.
Peric glided down from the second floor and landed beside her.
"Anything good?" she asked.
"It looks the same as down here. Boxes, boards…there's an elephant skull hanging from a rafter."
"Really?" She looked up at the second story.
"Yeah. But it's old. Whoever put it there has been gone a long time."
"I wonder who they were."
"I wonder why they did it."
Elphaba shrugged. "Well, elephants are said to have a lot of innate magical ability. Maybe whoever put it there was a sorcerer or an alchemist or something."
Peric looked up at the second floor, then back at her, his gaze curious. "I guess we're in the right place, then."
She tightened her grip on the broom, smiling a little. "I think we are."