Page 149 of Out of Oz (The Wicked Years 4)

Rain didn’t get it. She asked Mr. Boss and his wife what they thought, but they seemed not to be taking the full measure of the tragedy. They slept a lot. Maybe scaling a mountain this steep was harder on their little legs than on Brrr’s or Dorothy’s.

Of Dorothy, Rain was dubious. The foreigner seemed spooked to be here in the Witch’s castle; she didn’t like to be left alone. At first Rain was afraid that Dorothy was going to make a play for Tip, and it would be the Scarly thing all over again, but Dorothy seemed oblivious to Tip’s sweetness. “I just keep thinking about Toto,” she said. “I wonder if he’s still hunting for me somewhere, out in this blasted hideous world you cretins inhabit.”

“You’ve gone sassy, you have,” said Mr. Boss.

“Being convicted of double murder and condemned to death has helped erode some of my native midwestern taciturnity.”

“I think your little dog probably met up with some great big dog,” said Mr. Boss, “who is a lot more fun to hang out with than you.”

“How dare you make fun of me in my distress. I’d like to find a pack of those great big dogs and introduce them to your behind.”

“They’re doing this for your benefit, you know,” said Brrr to Rain, but she wasn’t sure she believed him.

She walked with Tip out of the castle again, in the direction from which they’d approached. Away from the smoldering embers. She cried, but turned her head away from his shoulder, not wanting to shame herself that much. Tip knew better than to ask why she was crying. It wasn’t really the death of her aunt, or the splintered lives her parents were living in defense of her, who had never asked to be defended. It was the whole pitfall of it, the stress and mercilessness of incident. She felt she was living on a stage controlled by tiktok machinery, and the Time Dragon dreaming her life was prone to nightmares.

Tip seemed to know all this without saying a word. He was the only article of faith that stood between her and the edge of the cliff, which looked eager to buckle if only she gave it half a chance.

She didn’t sleep much, in the small room to which the senior flying monkey had showed her. Tay crowded her pillow, shivering. Apparently the rice otter didn’t take to mountain air. Tip slept nearby, but apart, on a pallet outside her door. She could hear his breathing when he finally fell off to sleep. That was the first comfort afforded her since they’d arrived.

In the morning, she was all business. “Who is that old woman at the window?” she asked Iskinaary.

“Her name is Cattery Spunge, but she’s called Nanny,” said the Goose. “She’s already passed through her second childhood and she’s in her second adolescence now, and has decided to be sprightly again after spending a generation in bed.”

“What’s she doing here?”

“She raised your grandmother Elphaba, and she lived here with Liir until he was about fourteen. She’s been retired for about forty-five years but she’s considering looking for a new position as governess or possibly manager of a granary or something.”

“Hello, Nanny,” said Rain, approaching her.

The woman turned and put down her bowl of frumenty. Rain had never seen anyone so o

ld. Her cheeks and neck were wrinkled like a piece of vellum scrunched and only partly reopened. “Elphie?” said Nanny.

“No. My name is Rain.”

The old woman said, “My cataracts are puddings. I’d like to dig them out with sugar tongs. My, but you do look like Elphaba. Are you sure?”

“I just arrived.”

“Well, I’ve been expecting you for a long time.”

Rain wasn’t certain that she had convinced Nanny who she was, but she decided it didn’t matter. “You are the only one who knew Nor when she was a child.”

“Yes, that I did.”

“What was she like?”

“She was the first one to ride the broom, you know. Elphaba told me. She was bright and peppy and full of beans.”

“But how could she ride that broom? She didn’t have an ounce of magic in her.”

“I’d have said so too. But who is to say that magic follows our expectations. Give me your hand, child.”

“Are you going to read my palm?”

“With my eyes? I can’t even see your fingers, let alone your lifelines. No, I just want to warm up my own hands. The young have so much fire in them.”

“Do you have any idea where my father might be?”

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