Out of Oz: The Final Volume in the Wicked Years (37 page)

“What’s said, sir, is that she arrived about a half a year ago,” said Dosey. “Up in the Glikkus. The Scalps jostled up and down. Tremors were felt al over Oz. Some caled it an earthquake, others the Great Heave-Ho. A Glikkun vilage known as High Mercy were flattened, just about to pebbles, they say. And when they’s cleared away the rubble they finds this female character in a squarish conveyance of some sort. Its dented wals are only open iron curlicues, but the frilwork has kept the creature from being crushed until herself could be dug out.” Rain looked up. “We had our earthquake too. The Clock did. Remember? Al them buildings falen, after the Clock roled down the hil into the poppy pasture?” They had remembered. Mr. Boss was looking uneasy.

“Did our Clock cause Dorothy’s earthquake?” asked Rain.

“Don’t speak about what you don’t know,” snapped Mr. Boss.

“We al did that, we’d be mute forever,” Lir said softly, in her defense, and a silence folowed until Candle brokered a return to the subject.

“So what happened?” she asked. “Was anyone else hurt?”

“Almost total good luck for them Glikkuns,” warbled the Wren. “The entire vilage were out larking in some high meadow. It were a holiday, seems, and nobody bothering in the local emerald mine. Which was great good fortune, don’t you know, as those mines colapsed whole and entire. But a cow tied up to a tree came to a sorry end.”

“So what did they do with this Dorothy?” asked Nor. “Where is she now?”

“Since she came to ’em caged in a sort of cel, al imprisoned already, they blamed her for the wreck of their homes. Then the pox and parcel of ’em up and moved into the vilage next door, which had seen no damage to speak of. They brought her with them. None could say whether she was concussed or whether she’d arrived two worms short of a breakfast, if you catch my drift.” Dosey looked around brightly for an opinion about Dorothy’s capacities. No one spoke.

“Anyroad,” she continued, “they tended to her for months until she recovered somewhat of her memory. Apparently she’d been hauling about some little dog, but it had gone missing. Either got itself crushed in the rubble or took its chance to make a getaway through the bars while Dorothy was trapped inside. By the time herself was sound enough to remember her name, the snows had come. The pass down into Munchkinland is closed until spring—gotta get through snow season and most of mud season before anyone can go cross-country. But ’em Glikkuns has alerted Colwen Grounds, and they mean to send her down there. For legal processing and what-have-you.”

“So Dorothy is back in Oz.” Lir could hardly believe it.

“Word has it that when she finaly realized she was in Oz, she said, ‘I suppose that cow was a sacred cow, beloved of the nation and so on,’ and then wasn’t she al over crying like she cain’t warm to the pleasures of travel.”

“If the Glikkuns had aligned with the Gilikinese instead of Munchkinlanders, she’d be on her way to the Emerald City for a high royal celebration,” said the Lion. “A return to old times! Music, parades, the whole foldiddly fuss.”

“Instead, she’l be sent from High Mercy to Colwen Grounds for repatriation into Munchkinland, is my guess,” surmised Mr. Boss.

“Begging your pardon, but there en’t much of High Mercy left,” said Dosey. “She’s jailed in the town next door. Little Mercy.” Little Daffy sniffed. “Who cares about that Dorothy anymore? Nothing more than a bother, always dropping in when she’s not invited.”

“I doesn’t pretend to know how any humans think, nor government officials neither,” replied the Wren. “But I’m told they’re going to hold her accountable this time.”

“For arriving on a landslide and squishing a cow?” Little Daffy laughed.

“Hey, cows have feelings too, I’m told,” interrupted the Lion.

“No, no,” said Dosey. “It weren’t no special cow with virtues or such. That Dorothy is going to stand trial for the death of Nessarose Thropp and her sister, Elphaba. That’s why I come al this way to find you. Lir and Lion especialy. General Kynot thought you should know.”

“We live in the hamlet of No Mercy,” snapped the dwarf. “What do we care about what happens to her?”

“I don’t get it,” said Lir. “Didn’t the Munchkinlanders consider Nessarose something of a dictator? Sure, she was the one to cal for secession! So she’s the mother of Munchkinland. But then they went sour on her because of her tyrannical piety.
They’re
the ones who caled her the Wicked Witch of the East, after al. Now suddenly they’re missing her enough to bring her unlucky assailant to trial?”

“I en’t prepared to comment on the matter,” said Dosey. “I’m just doing the job given me by the General. You can choose to come and defend this Dorothy or not. There. I’ve delivered my message as was asked of me. I’l be happy to accept nest for the night, and I’l be off in the morning.”

“You’ve wasted your time, Dosey Dimwit,” insisted the dwarf. “We have no interest in this matter.”

“She’s convicted of the murder of Nessarose, she’l be hanged.”

“Good. One less ilegal immigrant to feed.”

“I agree with Lir. This doesn’t add up,” said the Lion. “Why would they bother?”

“You can’t be so thick.” Nor’s voice was cross. “It’s a public relations stunt. Don’t you see? They’re doing the scapegoating thing again. Probably some Munchkinlanders are wavering about the high cost in blood and treasury of defending their country. Nothing recommits the public to the cause than a good public mocking of the enemy.” Nor seems to have a better sense of political gesture than the rest of us, thought Lir.

She went on. “Munchkinlanders stoop this low, they’re courting danger. We’ve been talking al winter about the need to keep out of the gunsights of the Emperor of Oz. But you know, certain individuals among us are in as much danger from Munchkinland.” Her eyes passed toward Rain meaningfuly, flitted away. “If Elphaba were stil alive,” Nor pressed on, “her presence would negate the Emperor’s claim to Munchkinland. Though he’s her brother, she’d take precedence, by age and by dint of her gender.”

“And so does her issue,” said the Lion wearily. “Even if you’re male, Lir. And your issue even more than you—when she reaches her majority.” Now they al looked at Rain. She squirmed under their attention. She had an even stronger right to be ruler of Munchkinland than her great-uncle Shel, Emperor of Oz, did. The Emperor must know this too, if rumor of Rain’s birth had been beaten out of Trism bon Cavalish. What chance the Munchkinlanders were also factoring in some advantage in locating Rain? The Munchkinlanders had just as much interest in finding her too—maybe more. Her presence there would pul the rug out from under Shel’s claims.

The girl might be in no less danger now than she’d been in during the past decade.

“She’s not safe unless she flies,” said Dosey, voicing what they were al thinking. “And you must fly with her, of course. You’re her flock.”

“Ah, we’ve got wing-cramp,” said the dwarf. “We’re ready for a cunning little bedsit with a coal fire. You bring unwelcome gossip, little birdy-on-the-breeze. Always crying panic. Go find yourself a perch somewhere else.”

Candle rarely spoke before al of them, and her voice was deferential. Her fingers knotted on the tabletop before her. “Dosey is as welcome to stay here as you are, Mr. Boss.” Lir interceded. “Dosey, let’s go outside, for a moment, while Candle prepares you a perch.”

Iskinaary apparently took Lir’s attention to Dosey otherwise. He hissed in that aggressive way Geese have, lunging at the Wren as if to wrench her legs off. The Goose was rewarded by a wet little plop of bird spatter on his bil while Dosey escaped, squawking, “Heavens ahead a’us! En’t we al confederates and veterans of Kynot’s Conference?” Out in the air again, Lir tried to wipe the smile off his face. “Envy runs in every direction that air and light do,” he told Dosey. “Never thought I’d see that old Goose go after another Bird.”

“I can see ’e’s your familiar, as ever was,” replied the Wren. “Not one to stick my beak in where I’m not wanted, I’m not. I’l take myself downslope. I can see to my own needs.”

“That would be a disgrace.” Lir wished there were a way to embrace a Bird; he put his finger out, and the Wren hopped upon it. “It’s been ten years since the Conference where I met General Kynot and Iskinaary and al you others. How is he, the crusty old salt?”

“The Eagle is ready, steady, and stalwart as ever, if afflicted with wingnits, sadly. Cain’t fly as high as he once did. But he sends his regards.”

“Where is he located?”

“That’s confidential, begging your pardon, sir. He don’t command a mighty folowing anymore, mind. But we Birds is always suspect of treachery by every party, given our freedom to wander the skies. So we keeps certain facts close to our breast-feathers as we can do. Pays to be circumspect.”

“Ought we, up here in our own aerie, to be cautious about any particular Bird population?”

“Cain’t say for certain. Birds of unlike feather rarely flock together—that was the great success of Kynot’s Conference. We various clans and congregations, we don’t much attach to one another. Nor do we go in for argy-bargy. I’d say we mostly minds our own affairs.”

“But you’ve gone out of your way to find us and tel us about Dorothy.”

“I’m nothing special,” said Dosey. “But I had my reasons.”

Lir cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m a bit stout in the bosom, or where my bosom would be if I had a bosom,” said Dosey. “And my hearing en’t al that particular, and there’s silver in my wing and a rasp in my morning song. But when the word was going around about this Dorothy, and that you and the Lion would want to know in case she needed some defending, I volunteered for the mission.”

“Strong feeling for a human being you never met.”

“It en’t that Dorothy. She can hang on a gibbet,” said Dosey, cheerfuly enough. “It were you, sir. Begging your pardon and al that. I’ve had my own clutches in my time, and when the current nestlings cal to me, they have to chirp so many
greats
before the
granny
that they run out of breath. So I know what it’s like when an egg rols out of the nest. Your child were just about to be born when we was flying together, and I had a scared feeling that the Emperor might swoop like a serpent upon your nest, in revenge. I wanted to see for myself, sir. I’m glad you’ve got her tight under your wing now.”

“You’re a mother many times over,” said Lir. “You’ve only observed her a moment here or there, I know. But what do you make of her?” Dosey’s bil was made of chitinous horn. The only way Lir could identify a smile was by the way her downy cheeks puffed out, tiny grey berries at the corners of her beak. “Boy broomist, listen to me. She’s the ugliest little duckling I ever seen, but as I lives and breathes, she’s got flight in her, too.”

9.

Once the Wren departed, next morning, the claws came out.

“We have no reason to trust that Dosey,” said Mr. Boss. “She could’ve been lying through that common little beak of hers. How do we know Dorothy’s realy returned? Far more likely she was kiled as dead as Ozma was murdered before her.”

“Utter rot,” said Lir. “Dosey put herself in considerable danger, making a solo flight at this winterish time of year, just to find us. She has no reason to lie. The Birds are aligned neither to Munchkinland nor to Loyal Oz.”

“But Lir,” said his wife. “We can’t fly like Dosey over the border, not during wartime. We can’t forge into Munchkinland as if we’re off to market day. Who knows how fiercely those margins are now guarded? So you maintain a holdover affection for Dorothy. Fine. But whoever this Dorothy turns out to be these days, surely she won’t want your child put in danger?” Lir saw the wisdom of this, but not the charity.

Brrr cleared his throat. “Dorothy has nothing to do with a civil war between Loyal Ozians and Munchkins. She’s a political prisoner no less than Nor was at her age. If Rain were in the same situation, wouldn’t we go through hel trying to rescue her?”

“For you, there’s a bruised child behind every campaign isn’t there,” said the dwarf. “I’m just saying.”

“She’l be a matron by now,” argued Brrr, “and in any case, she asked me to look after Lir. Doesn’t she deserve the same? What friends has she in Oz, if not us?”

“It’s a diversion,” insisted the dwarf.

“From what? Saving your own skin? I’m al for roling out,” said Brrr.

So was Nor. There was a reason the Lion and Nor had struck sparks as a couple. Brrr saw it more clearly now. Nor was no homebody, and Brrr would rather be on the prowl, too. At this late date, with arthritis in his hips and a permanent case of halitosis, Brrr was discovering a certain quality of Lion about himself he’d never identified before.

It came down to a vote. They al elected to leave except Mr. Boss, who was tired of endless commuting. Rain wasn’t asked her opinion.

Iskinaary, who since Dosey’s visit had begun to shadow Lir about eight feet behind, like a shawled wife of an Arjiki chieftain except more garrulous, said, “Let’s go. What are we waiting for? If this good weather lapses, we’l be snowed in as deep as Dorothy. Al winter long.”

On the eighth day of cold sunny weather, a thaw of sorts, when the cobbles were dry of snow but the ground stil hard enough not to be mud, they harnessed Brrr up to the shafts of the dead Clock. Lir wrapped the Grimmerie in what remained of Elphaba’s old black cape and carried it under his arm.

Rain shunned Nor’s outstretched hand, cradling her shel instead. Tay rode on Rain’s shoulder. Little Daffy shouted, “Come on, you,” as Mr. Boss pretended to have died of a stroke, but he got up and stumped after them.

They’d gone a third of the way down the slope, when Rain suddenly said, “Wait, but we forgot the broomflower.”

“What’s she croaking about?” asked the dwarf.

Lir put his hand to his mouth—sweet Ozma, in the stress of the moment and the presence of the Grimmerie, he had left it behind—but Rain bolted back up the hil. A few moments later she had returned balancing Elphaba’s broom over her shoulder.

“Where’d you get that flea-ridden thing?” asked Little Daffy.

“Stuck in the level chink in the stones running below the Ladyfish,” said Candle in a low voice. “How did she find it there? I thought we hid it wel enough.”