Chapter 16
In the maelstrom of working as a cell, summer crept up on them, taking Elphaba by surprise. The swiftness of the heat settling over the city brought up strange and unwanted emotions. Had it been a year since she was smuggled from the hospital into this world she now knew? What she truly a year older already? When she rushed through the city on a mission, it seemed as though as lifetime has passed since the doctor had given her a new beginning. Yet when she lay in the dark, the horror of Hadrick and his many paying clients felt like yesterday. The nightmares were foggy now, especially with Malky curled up at her toes. They were more a swirling mix of images that left her with a vile feeling, wishing she could stand in the rain until the water washed them away. But that was certainly not to be.
She often stayed awake into the depths of night, studying sorcery and fighting sleep. She felt far more in control when she was awake. She thought the lack of sleep might be causing the headaches.
At times Elphaba could not predict or control, her head would throb, the pain radiating out from the back of her skull. It often made her fingers tingle, and forced her to shut her eyes until it passed. She could only suppose that this was some lasting affect from having been hit over the head with a washbasin, but she didn't want to give Peirory that type of control over her. To admit that his actions were still haunting her, hurting her, was something she could not do. So she endured it, and did not speak of it.
On this balmy, summer day she found herself at the end of one her headaches. Malky looked at her sympathetically, but she refused to acknowledge her pain. She paced, shaking off the last wisps of pain. The clock ticked loudly in the corner, seeming to shout at her that she only had an hour until she had to be in Southcity Square. Today was important, incredibly important, and she would not let this pain dull her senses. Not today.
She wrapped herself in her scarves, noting that her green skin was starting to be visible through the worn patches in her dress. She would be doing more mending it seemed, but not today. She would have to hope the glimpses of green would be taken for one of the many colors now woven into the dress. She pressed her hat down low on her brow and pulled on black gloves. She left just as the clock chimed noon, with Malky trailing behind her.
He kept his distance, and did not speak. They did not acknowledge each other. Elphaba wished he would stay behind, yet she knew he could not stay at the exchange today. Not for this.
They made their way through the city, dodging the busiest streets and keeping a great distance between them. Most people tended to take Elphaba as a grieving widow, and kept their distance. It was an assumption she didn't deny, as it kept people asking questions.
In nearly an hour, she and Malky found themselves amidst a large crowd. The throngs of citizens strained their necks and peered over one another to see the street in front of them. Gale Force officers kept the crowd at bay, all while looking anxiously up the street themselves.
Malky scaled a streetlamp and pretended to stalk birds, finally settling next to the lamp a few feet above the heads of the spectators. Elphaba glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before scanning the street before her. Agonizing minutes later, a caravan could be seen making its way up the street. A roar went up from the crowd as the Wizard himself appeared, riding in a great, gilded cart. His advisors followed in slightly less ornate carriages, in order of their importance. The crowd cheered and threw brightly colored flowers as the Wizard smiled and looked benevolent. The pathway for the caravan led to the center of Southcity Square, where a speech and other festivities were planned.
It's such a farce…Elphaba thought in disgust. If they could see the Animals, the poverty, the extermination of children…perhaps they wouldn't be throwing flowers…
As the caravan came closer, she could see Zaar, riding proudly in the second carriage with a collar of little flowers around her neck. She licked herself periodically, and pretended to be appropriately distracted by the birds that flitted about.
Elphaba looked from Malky to Zaar, and then back again. For a moment, the buzz around her seemed to diminish, muted by her thoughts. She saw only the two Cats, one white as snow and clearly holding his breath out of fear. The other, midnight black, was poised to make a great difference, to risk her life for a cause much greater than herself.
And there it was.
Black and white.
So clearly defined before her, all the shades of gray seemed to vanish in their presence. For a moment, Elphaba saw something true and real, and unsullied by the hate and lack of conviction she had been forced to wallow in. Malky and Zaar loved each other with an intensity that drove them forward, gave them strength and great purpose. For Zaar, to free the Animals meant to free her father from his silence and solitude. For Malky, to love Zaar meant to let her go, to let her do what only she could do, what she was born to do. A love as great as theirs would change the world, a little at a time. To love so deeply, so surely, would counteract a measure of the hatred the Wizard proliferated. In her murky world, Elphaba suddenly understood. She knew why Zaar had said she needed only the love of one person to heal her wounds.
Love is black and white.
The realization hit Elphaba with great force.
In its truest form, it does not fail. It does not wound and is not self-seeking. It drives us, like an unquenchable fire, to be greater than we are. It goes beyond the shades of grey that color romance, and forges us all into something stronger. Like a white-hot flame, love refines us, until there are no grey areas, just the black and white of a sharpened sword, clearly reflecting the definitions of good and evil.
Elphaba was frozen for a moment, shocked at the depth and clarity of her own thoughts. She shook her head, trying to find her focus again. As Elphaba looked from Malky to Zaar, she felt the need again, the ache that friendship could not fill.
A flash of brown snapped her back into reality, and the noise from the crowd became deafening as the Wizard passed in front of her. She waved appropriately, needing to blend in. Suddenly, the flash of brown was an Animal.
Besnik nipped at the legs of the horses pulling the second carriage, his leash dragging the ground loosely. He looked the picture of an animal who'd jerked away from his owner in this large crowd. His performance was perfect as he imitated a dog that had been spooked by the thunderous horses and the hordes of people.
Just at the moment when the horses reared back, frightened by the yapping dog, Zaar shot into action. Hissing and acting altogether terrified at the commotion, she slipped into the seat of the open carriage and released the restraint keeping the Wizard's elderly advisor secured in the carriage. With the next rear of the agitated horses, the man was thrown from the carriage to land underneath their stamping hooves.
Elphaba turned her head, not so callous that she wished to watch the man's fate.
When she looked up, Malky was gone, and a crowd surrounded the body of the elderly advisor. Besnik was held by the leash by a couple of Gale Force officers. She could tell by the way they tried to calm him that they assumed he was nothing more than a frightened animal who'd lost his owner.
Zaar cowered in the carriage, hissing and spitting and refusing any consolation, until the Wizard retrieved her himself. He consoled her, and she played the part of cat once more.
It was absolute genius! Was Elphaba's thought as she made her way home. She had acted appropriately grieved, not wanting to stand out in the crowd as the one soul who did not grieve over the Wizard's loss. Yet her heart leapt with excitement over what they had accomplished. Together, they had taken out a key player, without leaving a trace.
There is no explosive to find, or weapon to hint at murder. There is no trail. It was the perfect accident…
Elphaba felt joy, if that was possible. She could hardly sleep that night, but for once it was not because of murky nightmares or insane ponderings. Even Malky seemed hyper-alert and rambled on at length about Zaar. Elphaba might have slept a little close to dawn, but she wasn't entirely sure.
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They gathered at the exchange the following evening, all of them except Zaar. They just looked at each for a long time, a slight smile on each face.
"It was a success, this mission…" Sun mused, possibly to himself.
Nyalana nodded.
Besnik looked proud.
Elphaba rubbed her temples, hoping to stave off a headache.
Malky licked milk from a bowl, not sure that Sun even knew he was an Animal.
Elphaba started to speak, to comment on their teamwork, when she felt the tingling in her hands. She worked her fingers, hoping it would subside.
Suddenly, it overtook her.
It was a pain like she had never felt, coursing through her body like fire had filled her veins. She slipped to the floor, unable to make her body obey her. Her head pounded, becoming an audible sound in the depths of her ears. Her fingers clinched, her toes curled and she felt blinded by the pain. She wasn't sure if she was still conscious, but she was vaguely aware of being moved. A film of sweat formed over her body and stung her slightly.
Minutes, or hours, passed until she could make out Nyalana's face before her.
"Go………hospital……edge……Seventh Ward near…park…Dr. Weilhemm…" Was all Elphaba could choke out.
It was not in Elphaba's nature to ask for help. She despised the weakness of it, but her subconscious desire to live must have taken over. She needed the doctor's knowledge, and possibly the calming affect he'd once had over her.
Nyalana returned at dawn with the doctor, who looked altogether confused and yet compassionate. When they slipped into the second floor room of the corn exchange, his face melted into something Elphaba could not define. Relief? Understanding? Perhaps it did not matter.
The doctor cleared the room of all but Nyalana, since Elphaba clutched her hand tightly. He sat carefully next to the bedroll and studied his patient.
"How long has she been like this?" He asked.
"Hours," Nyalana answered.
Elphaba cried out silently, wanting to answer but finding herself unable to control her speech.
The doctor probed her head, searching without expression. He shone light into her eyes and felt the muscles in her arms and legs. And then he waited, like a great, calming presence, until she could speak.
Elphaba felt her muscles relax, and her tongue felt dry. She finally whispered, "Is this what dying feels like?"
The doctor smiled slightly.
"No," He answered, "It's paroxysm."
She looked up at him, confused.
He looked from Nyalana to the green woman in front of him, and then back again, perhaps considering how much the Winkie girl knew.
Elphaba simply nodded that he could continue.
"Paroxysm can happen after a head injury. We know very little about it, and we have no treatment. It's harmless, as far as long-term injury, but not pleasant."
Elphaba snorted her agreement.
"Over-activity can trigger it, as well as stress. That is most of what we know," The doctor concluded.
"Well that figures…" Elphaba snapped, and both the doctor and Nyalana seemed happy to see her spirit.
"You need rest…" Dr. Weilhemm advised, and clasped one slender, green hand. Her held it for a long time, but couldn't seem to find more words.
He rose to leave, stopping only to add, "If you need me, you know where to find me…"
With that he was gone.
Elphaba lay there for a long time, with Nyalana clutching her other hand. She was exhausted, so much so that even her usual undeniable spirit couldn't bring her up from the bedroll. She felt defeated, as though something of Peirory had knocked the wind out of her, again. It was another scar, a wound that would never completely heal, a physical reminder of being used and discarded.
As the morning sun began to rise in the sky, Nyalana squeezed her hand and said, "We all have our scars."
Elphaba looked into her deep, dark eyes, and found empathy.
She would get up again.
She would fight another day.
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Not one to be kept down, Elphaba threw herself into her work, allowing the distraction to drive her. She averted her eyes from the concerned glances her comrades sent her way, and refused to acknowledge their questions. She knew they had to wonder. She knew there was compassion in Sun's eyes whenever she worked her fingers over her skull to dull the pain. Yet Elphaba couldn't accept their sympathy. Her façade was built on strength, and an unwavering perseverance that did not leave room for weakness. She knew there were far too many tears built up within her to let her guard down, even for a moment. So she worked, and tried to sleep. Sleep was, after all, the only thing that seemed to fend off the headaches.
Her sorcery prowess seemed to be increasing, if only by a measure. She could create great clouds of smoke and found herself quite excellent at setting things on fire. In the cool days of autumn, she often trekked beyond the city, to the great forests that lay just across the river. Here, she could let loose her emerging skills without fear of discovery or the destruction of her home. She was sure that a traveler, at some future time, would pass through the trees and wonder at the scorched branches and objects she had managed to turn into other objects.
By far the most interesting spell she had stumbled upon was the one for enchanting. Its real use eluded her, as Elphaba could not see any real reason to give life to something in a world as vile as she found Oz to be, but the spell was curious anyway. She had managed to give the trees a life of their own, breathing a sort of personality into them with her haunting, song-like spell.
On a particularly brisk day, she had stumbled into a field of corn stalks, struggling to live through an early winter chill. She looked into the painted face of a scarecrow and sung the enchanting spell in her low, melodious voice. He sprung to life, clumsy and far from intelligent, and promptly ran, screaming, at the sight of her.
"Well," She told the cornstalks, "that figures."
It seemed that even her own creations found something abnormal and repulsive in her verdigris.
The man of tin, on the other hand, was altogether accidental. She had been trying to animate the ax he carried, hoping it might provide a clever form of protection for her. However, the whole statue came to life and walked from the garden, which housed an eclectic collection of tin figures. He had swung his ax at her before clumping off into the woods, mumbling something that sounded like "witch".
Elphaba gave up the enchanting spell after that, finding it to be much more trouble than it was worth. She wished the best for her unlikely creations, but assumed they would fall victim to the first frightened citizen they stumbled upon. Except the trees, they seemed to fend for themselves.
As Elphaba emerged from the forest on a still, frigid day early in the season of Lurelinemas, she decided it would be her last trip of the season. Her cloak was barely shielding her from the biting wind, and her fingers had taken on a purplish color. She could only assume that was her skin's way of saying they couldn't withstand this cold.
It's for the better anyway, She mused to herself, someone would be raising questions soon, if I turned to animating fruits and vegetables next…
Just as she approached the edge of the Animal Ward, she caught sight of Besnik. He trotted over to fall in step beside her. He did not speak, yet his eyes clearly said, Follow me.
So Elphaba wordlessly let him lead.
They wound through the Animal Ward, and exited in an industrial area on the east side of the city. The air was heavy, and her throat burned from the dust. Besnik scampered up the steps of a large warehouse that, from the outside, looked like a cannery.
The inside would tell a different story.
Elphaba gasped as she saw row upon row of cages, stacked a high as she could see and filling the vast space. Animals of every species looked at her with mournful eyes. It was impossible to tell Animal from animal, as they all trembled and had been castrated of all dignity. She did not need instruction.
Wordlessly, Elphaba began to open cages and lead the terrified creatures to freedom. Some looked into her eyes, and thanked her simply by showing that they were Animals. Others sprinted toward freedom without a backward glance. In one mammoth cage, she found a lion, trembling. It cowered and slunk away from her with its tail dragging, its spirit clearly broken. For a moment, the memory of the lion cub flashed through her head. She wasn't so idealistic as to think it could be the same Animal, yet it grieved her just the same. For any beast as regal as the tawny lion to be so broken was merely a testament to the Wizard's cruelty.
She knew many of the creatures were wary of her, unsure of her motives, and, as always, startled by her appearance. But she freed them just the same. She needed no thanks, just the knowledge that one more Animal was free to make its own life, to fight for the rights of its kind.
She and Besnik returned to the corn exchange some hours later, exhausted, filthy, and yet satisfied. She took the time to boil some milk for a little cocoa, which Besnik, to her surprise, enjoyed.
"I didn't suppose Dogs liked chococlate…" She threw out.
"There is a lot we do not know about each other," Besnik replied, studying her with his large, warm eyes.
Elphaba turned away, her profile revealing nothing of the story behind the emerald cover.
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Lurelinemas snuck up on them, roaring through the city like a gold and green freight train. Snow came early, blanketing the city at nearly the same time as businesses covered themselves in the sparkle and festivity of the season. Without family with which to celebrate, the four comrades found themselves gathered in a ramshackle circle in the corn exchange, perched on various packing crates they had upended. Elphaba magicked a fire to warm them. She had become quite adept with the flame, and could contain it and keep it from spreading. She usually would not risk it, fearing the light from the flame would give away their presence in the exchange. Yet tonight the city was distracted with its holiday, and the four of them only had each other. They were each grateful for the warmth, of both the flame and the company.
"It's Lurelinemas eve," Sun commented, warming his hands over the flickering fire.
Malky swished his tail as he peered out one snow-crusted window. They all knew his heart ached for Zaar at this time of such joy and celebration.
"When I was a puppy," Besnik began, "we used to put out our shoes on Lurelinemas eve, and our father would fill them with candy before sunrise. He tried to pretend it was magick, but we knew it was him. But somehow," He looked into the flame, "it made it more special…that it was he who filled them…"
Sun smiled, enjoying the memory.
Malky plopped down from the window and perched on an empty crate. He curled his tail around his paws and cocked his head in his usual fashion.
"I used to hide treats throughout the house…different ones for each kitten," Malky chuckled at the memory, "and Zaar always found hers first. She was the fastest, and the cleverest. But then, she would always go back and help her brother, who had a difficult birth was somewhat impaired. She loved him. I think she mourns him the most…"
They smiled sadly, each with their own unspoken losses.
"We didn't have Lurelinemas in Quadling country, at least not so much as they do here," Sun offered, "As a culture, the business of it all wasn't so appealing…but we did exchange trinkets, little things we made ourselves. I kept one…from my mother," Sun produced a small, glass figure with wings that suggested a bird. It was wire, filled with glass in bright, speckled colors.
When it passed through her hands, Elphaba flashed back to a time at the very edges of her memory. Small green hands fingered glass, round and smooth and reflecting light. She wondered, for a moment, what had become of the glass orb that Turtle Heart had once made for her. She suddenly felt an overwhelming need to find it.
Nyalana shifted on her crate, reaching back into her cache of memories.
"In Winkie country, we would have a festival for days, with food and music…I remember dancing well into the night under the stars…" Nyalana's eyes took on a faraway glaze as she became a child again, dancing barefoot in the sand.
One by one, their eyes fell on Elphaba. She sat, twisting her fingers together. Long moments passed with just the crackling of the fire.
"We didn't celebrate Lurelinemas," She cleared her throat, and continued in a strained voice, "My father was a Unionist minister…"
Malky looked at her, with the firelight casting her skin in a warm, emerald glow and reflecting the flecks of gold in her eyes. Her dark hair was loose around her, like a great black waterfall glistening in the amber light. None would speak, for fear of her volatile nature, but he knew their thoughts were all the same.
Elphaba, in her green and gold glory, could be Lureline herself, the mystic queen who set Oz ablaze with magick. Or perhaps St. Aelphaba, her namesake, whose origins were so murky. Like the saint, she seemed far too different for this world. Malky felt a rush pride at knowing this woman, unique in all of Oz. This Lurelinemas, for her, he wished for someone who could help her see the woman they all saw, someone strong enough to hold up a mirror not tainted by the filth of life, but a true reflection of who she was.
Malky wished Elphaba could see the woman in the firelight.