This chapter was a bitch to write. An absolute bitch, so I decided to separate it on three parts. It was alarmingly large anyway :P
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The Phoenix spotted a caravan on the last warmth days of summer. When it reached Kiamo Ko, most of the small trees had already lost their leafs and the days had become shorter and colder. In a few weeks, it would start to snow and winter would settle down on the Vinkus.
Glinda and Liir were waiting outside on a windy afternoon. One of wagons had separated from the rest the party to advance towards the castle, getting closer and closer at the pace of two weary horses. When it finally- finally- reached them, Glinda could see the face of the driver. Surprisingly enough, it was a woman's.
"Kiddo…" The stout female greeted urbanely. Liir smiled and nodded in response. "You've grown. In height and bulk."
The door of the wagon was pushed open and a young man emerged. He placed two heavy boots firmly on the moody ground and then slumped down to take something from inside. At first, Glinda presumed it was a heavy case, but then she noted another pair of legs protruding from behind the wooden door hiding them. The man guided to one said his companion: an old man, pale as a ghost and wheezing noisily. Her eyes widen in surprise and recognition.
Shell let go off his father's arm for a moment to retrieve their luggage but the feeble legs of the old man's buckled and he would have fallen- if not for Liir. The boy offered a chubby arm for support and Frex, weary and spent for the exertions of his journey, accepted the assistance with a smile.
"The Unnamed God bless you, child."
"It has being a pleasure, Oatsie." The young man said to the driver, steadying Frex with one of his long and strong arms.
The woman returned the smiled and then stuck her tongue out and twisted it in an obscenely suggestive gesture. Shell arched his back, thrusting his hips forward and winked at her.
"Greetings to you all." Glinda said coldly, blushing in spite of herself. She had not missed the exchange. "Brother Frexspar, I have not forgotten you, and this fine lad must be your son: Shell Throbb. Both of you are welcome here." She turned to the smelly wagoneress with a tight smile. "And costumes oblige on this mountain to offer food and shelter to all travelers. If you please, Mss Oatsie, you are welcome to stay tonight, so may your mounts and yourself rest and prepare for the long journey ahead of you."
The woman gaped a moment and then roared with laughter.
"Well now, it has being decades since I last toppled with one with such a fine drawl." She made a mocking reverence. Glinda noted that the hand used was a bit deformed. Oatsie sniffed, snorted and spitted to one side. "I'm starving like a she-wolf with a dozen puppies, and those horses are as old and tired as a veteran whore." Glinda clenched her teeth. "But I know this place. I know what happened here. And I can be many things, but I aint stupid. I'm not going to sleep where a Witch was murdered."
Glinda paled and turned to Frex. He had being devastated on Nessa's funeral. But there were not tears on his eyes this time. There was no grief on his face. No… there was some but seemed more sympathy than actual pain. More a kind of gentle regret as if he had lost a pet- some loyal and loved dog- instead of a daughter.
"Wicked my ass." Oatsie was saying. "I know wicked when I see it and that pathetic thing didn't have it. She had the temper of the devil and was as moody as a cat in a bathtub, yes she was. But wicked? Na…" She shook her head sadly. "Oh but what do I know. Never understood what the heck that creature was doing in a Convent in the first place. She didn't seem all that religious to me."
Glinda turned as the words slowly sipped in into her brain.
"Convent?"
"Aye. She was a Sister the first time I saw her. Not mine, of course. I'm not green enough." She laughed at her own joke. "Anyway, is it true what they say? That she melted?"
Liir snorted. Glinda dogged the tall heels of her shoe on his feet in a surprisingly elegant motion.
"Oh, yes she did, the poor thing." The Good Witch said, ignoring the wailings of the boy. "There is nothing left but the memory of her passing."
Oatsie shuddered.
"Well, that's one original way to die. If I'm lucky a Dragon will snatch me from my wagon one day and swallowed me whole on the sky. But that's too much to wish for. I'm gonna end up frozen in this stupid sit one of this winters, I tell you."
"It's not something you should fear tonight, if you stay." Glinda said, suddenly finding herself liking the stout woman. "You really look like you could use a good meal. And a bath…"
Oatsie laughed again.
"Come now, bathing in cold weather is dangerous, lady. And my horses and the birds don't seem to mind my dirt." She squinted at the sky and the mirth disappeared from her eyes. "Besides, I have to leave the mountains before the first snows. I will die frozen in this stupid wagon, but it won't be this year. Everyone, it has being a pleasure….Oh, and my condolences for your loss."
She turned the horses and led them back towards the road, whistling an unknown-but quite pretty-tune.
Glinda cleared her throat and beamed at her guests. But reminding sternly to herself that this wasn't the Chuffrey palace, her huge smile turned into a smaller but far gentler.
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The Good Witch despised castles. They were gloomy, humid and an architectonic nightmare. Fruits of the pragmatism of military minds, they were square and flat with narrow windows that kept the sun away and made a perfect lair for rats, bats and other pests. Granted, if she found herself caught in the middle of a war, she would prefer to be near a castle than a palace with marble walls and gold columns holding glass terraces. But she wondered why the interior had to be so dull. Couldn't there be columns instead or arcs holding the roofs, if at least for decorative purposes. Did it hurt too much to encase a mirror in one wall or the other, framed perhaps by some delicate frame of gold? Did the doors have to be so….plain?
But as she kept thinking about it, she realized this was the first real castle she had entered. And the reason of its excessive and absolute dullness wasn't a direct consequence of the structure's rigid demands. It was the arjikis. Their minds seemed incapable of understanding the pleasure of doing things for the fun of it and much less of admiring them once they were done.
But as Boq -good old Boq- used to say Do the best you can with what you have. So now hundreds of candles illuminated with their golden light the dark gloomy rooms of Kiamo Ko's castle. Paintings and carpets and elegant local tapestries adorned the walls and floors. With the each day colder wind howling outside, it was nice to have such solid walls around one anyway.
A winkie page led Frexspar and Shell to a guest room and she promised to meet them back at dinner. Then she turned and strode towards the interior patio.
The monkeys chattered and shrieked and nested on the Eastern and Western tower while the Phoenix had made her lair-or nest perhaps- on the northern tower. She perched there like some huge golden gargoyle, staring at the far horizon. The dawning sun made the red and yellowish feathers of her neck and chest to glow like a flame- Glinda hated that snotty thing, but she had to acknowledge breath-taking beauty when encountered.
The southern tower was probably constructed by mistake- since it stood at the verge of a cliff facing a great sea of trees - or perhaps placed there for some obscure sense of structural harmony. Since it was the only one not occupied by animals or Animals, Glinda insisted on beatifying it like the rest of the castle but Elphaba- who had remained quite docile to the most invasive measures Ms Upland imposed so far- finally put her foot down.
"It's my place."
It was a short, curtly answer. But its significance was profound. Glinda hadn't insisted.
"Elphie?" She knocked on the heavy oaken door.
"Go away. I'm busy."
"There are visitors…"
"Well well, imagine that!"
"It's your brother and father."
There was a moment of silence before the door opened.
"My father was too old to travel." Elphaba snapped, popping her head out. "What on the world is he doing here?"
Glinda blinked trying to suppress the apprehension the Witch's face caused her. It had being months and she still couldn't get used to it. She wasn't sure Elphaba could sense her disgust. If she did, she wouldn't show. But it bothered Glinda.
"Well, I…I don't know. They've just arrived. You can ask them yourself…if you want. Once we clarify that you are alive, that is."
"Hah! Let him thing I'm dead! For all he must care."
She turned and was about to slam the door shut but Glinda planted her foot hastily between the door and its frame. She cringed inwardly and waited. Elphaba stopped and stared a moment at the delicate shoe, with its pale and smooth content. One of her thin eyebrows shut upwards as she lifted her head to look at Glinda.
"It would break, you know."
Glinda bit her lower lip and snatched her foot back.
"Please, talk to him. He's came all the way here because he thought you were dead."
"No, he didn't. " Elphaba sneered.
"How would you know? He loves you, Elphie…even if he doesn't show it. He is your father."
Elphaba clenched her teeth. Oh no, he wasn't her father. This Frexspar was just the person that raised her, that taught her to loath her mutated skin. It was the man that taught her how bad tears could burn; he taught her the bitter taste of indifferent glances-those that hurt even more than insults and mockery. He was also the man that taught her to read, to write, to think for herself and to have compassion for those around her. And for that all she hated him, and loved him.
Glinda bit her lower lip as Elphaba's green and haggard face rose from the floor to stare back at her again. The Witch eyes were softer now as she nodded curtly.
"Fine."
Glinda smiled and stretched one hand to touch her, but had to jerk back, the door slamming shut missing her nose for mere inches.
"And you could try to stop behaving like a moody teenager, by the way?!" She sputtered, trembling in indignation as she climbed down the stairs. "It is getting old."
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Liir's habit of telling the truth was a noble tendency- but it was also such a threat to social codes. Glinda didn't pretend him to lie, but it was a necessity- if not a moral duty- to learn the art of telling half truths. His blurting out that Elphaba wasn't dead could very well stop Frex's heart. He was as sickly and feeble as a half-drowned kitten.
She kept Liir occupied the rest of the day in some urgent chores. The boy wasn't stupid but was rather easy to manipulate. There was some king of hunger to do things on him. To do anything that may seem remotely important. Maybe it made him fill fulfilled somehow. It was a mere play of words. A Liir, we must keep the fire going or we may freeze instead of Liir, go get more firewood, please. It's getting cold; or a Liir, the monkeys need to be fed instead of Liir, be a good boy and feed the monkeys.
It was exhausting but finally the time came and Glinda gestured Shell to follow her as a solicitude maid helped Frex to sit on a furnished chair and drink a bit of wine.
She led him to the music room trying to ignore the suggestive looks he was giving her. Once inside, Glinda closed the door behind her and turned to face Shell. He was grinning lustfully.
"Why is it that you brought this fine young man to this gloomy and cozy room, Mss Glinda? I have not failed to notice there are no men on this place. Not any worthy of your attention, anyway."
"Your balls have fully developed, I see." A voice said acidly from behind.
Shell turned and the blood on his body froze. He screamed and jumped back, almost slamming against a startled Glinda-landing heavily on the door instead, still screeching and gasping.
Glinda almost felt pity for him. She was well aware of Elphaba's impressive appearance. She had experienced the horror of suddenly stumbling with her in the dark corridors of the castle when less expected. Her strange hunted eyes were surrounded by dark aureoles and an expression of anger and disappointment had settled permanently upon her features, emphasizing the natural evil looking curves and edges of her skull.
Shell was a pig however. So she didn't mind all that much.
Elphaba didn't either. She stood in front of him, her back straightened to look even more imposing and holding her sharp chin high as if treating to stab his heart out if his chest if getting too closed.
But Shell did not get close. Not at first. He gaped. He panted. He glanced at Glinda several times until he slowly started to digest what was going on.
"It was a ruse!" He gasped. "You…that kid… You are not dead!"
"Well, now, maybe you are not as stupid as…"
The Wicked Witch of the West was suddenly pushed off her feet and whirled around like a rag doll. Shell laughed and screamed and danced with her on his arm, finally crushing her in a bear hug. When he put her down, there was such a shocked and terrified expression on Elphie's face that Glinda couldn't hold her laughter any longer and she soon collapsed on a near couch out of breath and with a sore liver.
"I can't believe it! Look at you! You are…you are whole…somewhat!" He gingerly traced his fingers on the scars running down her cheeks. "But you are… you are alive!"
Elphaba stood stiffly where he had dropped her as his eyes examined her closely. His welcoming had being overwhelming. She wasn't sure what to say or what to do.
"Well….that was a bit excessive." She finally huffed, wincing a bit as she wormed out of his grasp and placed the weight of her body back into her own legs. She smoothed her dark blouse and untangled her cloak from around her body. "I didn't know we were that close."
But Shell kept grinning from ear to ear.