Chapter 2
The following morning, the dim light filtered through her dusty window, illuminating each stain on the mattress. As her eyes focused, she could see that her dress was more in need of repair than she had imagined the night before. Holes were growing, working toward becoming inappropriate. In some places the fabric had worn so thin, the green of her skin could be seen. She would have to have a new dress, no matter what he said.
"Fae!" His voice bellowed up the narrow stairwell.
She had not given him her real name. She gave it to no one. She hurriedly brushed her hair back, securing it with a string before shuffling down the stairs. She knew better than to keep him waiting.
"Yes, Master Hadrick?" She addressed him, staring up at his imposing form as she descended the stairs.
"I expect when I return today that the floor will be finished?"
She nodded.
"And the clothes laundered?"
She nodded.
"And the silver polished?"
She nodded.
"And food prepared?"
She nodded.
"And there will be no wandering," He held her under a steady, unflinching gaze, "If you want to make a difference, you stay here. Show the rest of your kind how to be a servant."
"As if there are any more of my kind anywhere," The statement was out before she realized it. No amount of servitude would calm her quick and sharp tongue.
For a moment there was no sound, and then he slapped her hard across the face, leaving a bruise where his roughened hoof connected with her cheekbone.
**************************************************
By the time the sun reached noon the next day, she had nearly finished the laundry. Her hands were sweaty and puckered from the gloves, but she dare not take them off. She plunged another set of trousers in the basin and cursed the water. Why must it be so pervasive, so necessary? If she ever succeeded at mastering the powers of sorcery, that would be her first spell - cleanliness without water, or maybe life without water. Or maybe that was impossible. Maybe her aversion to water was nature's way of telling her to die.
She shook off the thought before it could become a feeling. It was past noon and this was her only chance. She hung the last of the laundry and cast off the gloves. She dared not glance in the mirror as she slipped quietly out the back door.
Elphaba skirted through the backstreets, trying to keep to alleys and dark corners. After all, she did not exist. She had no reputation here, and she intended to keep it that way. She made her way several streets over; hoping memory would serve and take her to the open air fabric market she was familiar with. She used to hand out flyers there, hoping to dissuade people from purchasing fabric sheered off the very backs of unwilling Animals.
When she came upon the first of the vendors, she slowed her pace, falling in step with the crowd and struggling to look unassuming. It was altogether difficult, being green and all.
She spotted what she needed very quickly. An elderly woman was hawking fabric and dresses. The colors were drab, and yet they looked sturdy and unadorned. Elphaba crept behind the woman's stall, waiting until she was caught up in conversation with a mother toting several young girls and clearly in need of many things. With a cat-like lunge, Elphaba seized a deep gray dress and ran. She was nimble and quick, and almost soundless, and she knew it. In little more than a minute she was inside the walkup, clutching her prize and hearing no signs of followers.
Someday I'll repay you, she paid a silent homage to the hardworking woman from whom she had stolen, as she waited for the pounding of her heart to subside.
**************************************************
By the time Hadrick arrived home, she was placing the last of the silver in its cabinet. Dinner simmered on the stove. Hadrick sniffed his approval.
"You keep a fairly decent house, for a human," He smirked at her, "You'd make a decent wife, if indeed someone of your species would think to marry a green girl." He chuckled to himself while scraping a chair away from the kitchen table. As he sat, Elphaba ladled him a large bowl of stew. He gestured toward the pot, "Tonight you may eat."
She wanted to heave it at him, the whole steaming pot. No, she stopped herself, emotion is unnecessary. You must eat, if you are to succeed at anything, even if it is at his table.
So she sat, rhythmically spooning stew into her mouth, trying to remain small and uninteresting, and trying to conceal her great hunger. Last night, she had not eaten.
And then suddenly his eyes fixed on her, examining her. "Is that a new dress?" He barked.
She set down her spoon and met his stare. "Yes," She answered evenly.
He stood quickly, nearly overturning the table. In barely three strides he had crossed to her side. He swung his powerful arm around her neck and pulled her from the room into the open foyer.
"Where did you get it?" He demanded.
"From the vendors three blocks down," There was, after all, no use in lying.
"And with what payment?"
"You do not give me any money."
"So you stole it? So you are a thief?" His voice bellowed, his eyes flashed as he accused her.
"I am a thief because you have made me one! No person could be expected to wear the same dress for nearly a year and not-"
Hadrick swung his hand in a wide arch and connected with her face once again. "You are not a person!" His words echoed off the stone walls. "How many times must I repeat it? No human deserves the decency of being called a person! A person has feelings, has empathy and compassion! A person has soul. A person would never deny another creature its right to speech, or its freedom!" The shadows of the wrongs done to him flitted through his eyes as he spoke.
"I have tried to restore you right to speech! And look how you have repaid me!" Elphaba couldn't stop herself. Her convictions mattered more than her physical pain.
With a great roar, he pushed her to the floor, holding her down with one great hoof, pinning her by her hair with the other. "If you want to make a difference, you will accept your servitude. Show your kind how to serve a master, because soon this is what you will all be doing!" He heaved himself up and started out the door, then turned back, "Get upstairs. I think tomorrow you need to start earning your keep."
And then he was gone. She struggled to her feet, refusing to stay down. He could not keep her down. A small trickle of blood worked its way down her cheek and splashed onto the clean, stone floor. She would have to clean it again tomorrow.