Okay, so maybe I (unintentionally) lied when I said this story was going on hold. Thanks goes to Thessaly for the truly amazing review—I loved it. And also to Kennedy Leigh Morgan, who helped me to sort through my thoughts and accompany them with ideas of her own. Basically credit goes to her for helping me tons with not only this chapter, but the story in general. :D
As for the rest of you—for heaven's sake. The little purplish button at the bottom is the one for reviewing. :D
She was drawn quietly from her ruminations at the sight of the tall spires of the mauntery hanging in the still orange gloaming. The subtle jerking motion at her hand caught her attention as the dapple-gray horse alongside her cowed at the looming shape before them.
"Oh, really, Laela. Don't be so ridiculous," she chided.
The horse lowered its head at her words and made no further forms of protest.
At the gates of the mauntery she raised her white-knuckled hand and rapped on the small side door. An indistinguishable face surrounded by a mass of flowing golden hair appeared over the edge of the parapet. "What is you business at the Cloister of Saint Glinda?" she called.
"I am a traveler in need of a place to rest for the night, if you would be so kind," she supplied, in the nearest semblance of a weary traveler as she could manage.
The maunt responded by disappearing back over the ledge and reappearing at the door a minute later. "Sorry, we don't normally accept guests after sundown," she explained, ushering her through the door. "You don't appear to be much of a threat."
Managing a weak smile, she asked, "Is there somewhere to stable my horse for the night?"
"Yes, I'll take, um…"
"Her. It's Laela."
"Yes, I'll take her to the stable. Just head along this hallway here and someone should offer you some dinner and a place to rest." She motioned down a long hallway that opened into a small courtyard.
• • • • •
"Lady Glinda?" a voice called urgently.
Glinda nearly fell off the bed in surprise, catching herself against the small pillows dramatically. Lena alone seemed responsive, sweeping to the door and pulling it open to reveal a young novice at the door.
Collecting her pink skirts in her hands, Glinda rose from the bed and hurried to where the maunt stood in the door. "Yes?"
"Lady Glinda, I'm sorry to disturb you, but there is a guest here to see you," she offered tentatively.
Sighing slightly, she motioned Lena back through the door and muttered a quick "I'll be back" before trailing along behind the blond-headed novice. Arriving in the sitting room that was normally reserved for afternoon tea, Glinda caught sight of a slim young woman with chestnut-colored hair pulled back into a short ponytail near the nape of her neck.
"Good evening," she said cheerfully, and the stranger tore her soft green eyes from the window and focused them upon her.
"You must be Glinda," she inferred, her sun-darkened features softening into a relieved smile. "I was hoping to catch you. I am Nor." At Glinda's confused look she added, "Fiyero's daughter. I am sure you must know of Fiyero?"
"Yes. Just that… isn't Liir supposed to be looking for you?"
"Oh, is he?" she asked offhandedly. "He never was very accomplished, was he?"
Confused, Glinda asked, "Is there a particular reason why you've chosen to visit me?"
"Yes. Is it true what I've heard about this mauntery? That it is in opposition of the Emperor?" she ventured.
Glinda could feel the blood rush to her face but answered anyway, her voice lowered in arcane rectitude. "This is a mauntery that stands for deity rather than politics."
Nor nodded her head unconsciously, her clear green eyes clouded over in waves of thought. "I must know if it is true what they say," she said gently, fixing Glinda with her solemn gaze. At Glinda's surreal nod, Nor continued. "The green girl is here?"
How is Oz does she know? Can she be trusted? Before consciously deciding, she answered. "Yes."
"Shell knows," Nor confided quietly. "He wants her gone."
Glinda did the only thing that she seemed physically able to do, and nodded. Her unfocused eyes looking past the scrubbed white wall, seeing images only she could see, she sat and nodded in disbelief.
• • • • •
"Damn," she muttered under her breath, her bare feet pacing across the lacquered wooden floor. She felt uneasy—there was definitely something going on, and, as always, she was prisoner in this infernal room devoid of key and lock.
"This is impiety," she whispered tremulously, her long-fingered hands smudging the unbroken blackness of the windowpane.
Just go, her subconscious urged perversely.
She flung the window open, flooding the room with cool night air. The bleak shimmer of stars glowed gently down upon her, deeming her alone in the night and thus exonerating her.
Crawling carefully along the vertiginous ledge, she paused at the next window, crouching in the accusatory light shining meekly into the night.
"I must know if it is true what they say. The green girl is here?" a young woman asked, seated precariously on the edge of a straight-backed chair and looking unwillingly anxious.
Glinda's reply was lost in the profound confidence of the room, and Lena leaned her face closer to the glass, straining to hear the hushed wisps of conversation. "Shell knows. He wants her gone."
At the reserved nodding of Glinda's gloriously blond head, Lena slipped farther along the ledge, crawling down the rough stone wall into the moonlit courtyard below. She wandered thoughtlessly to the musty circular tower room at the edge of the medical ward; her secret haven.
Lying on her back upon the neglected stone floor, she gazed out at the glimmering specks of light in the darkened sky, searching for familiar constellations and unwritten answers.
"Child." A voice spoke softly from the doorway, startling her from her detached reverie.
She turned her eyes slowly to the door, allowing them to adjust to the darkness. It was Yackle.
"Mother Yackle, you startled me-" she began, but paused when Yackle held up a hand to silence her.
"You are leaving?" she asked croakily, her voice echoing incriminatingly against the rounded walls and dissipating into the tapered rafters.
"Yes."
Way to go, he thought abjectly, leaning his matted hair against the grimy wall, listening to the faint plops of brackish water dripping from the ceiling. No brilliant plan to get you out of this one.
He doubted his existence in this squalid place, this maddening duality of palpable sin and regret in equal parts.
"So it seems you're back."A voice choked with brash inebriation hung in the thick cell air as the door swung creakily on its hinges, sending cold tremors unfettered down his spine.