Page 12 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
“No one knows where the Green Wizard came from.” Glenna swirls the wine in her cup. “They say he fell from the sky—plummeted into the royal city of Caislin Brea one day. Smashed a good deal of the place, I’m told, though I’ve never seen the damage. I haven’t been allowed outside the Village of Crows since the East Witch appointed me as its overseer…” Her voice fades, and her eyes glaze over.
“More wine?” suggests Dorothy.
Glenna nods, and while Dorothy refills her cup, I venture a question. “Why is he called ‘wizard?’ What kind of magic does he possess?”
“To us, the word ‘wizard’ means a wish-granter,” Glenna explains. “The Green Wizard grants one wish to each supplicant who seeks him out. He gives you what you ask for, though not always in the way you expect. Do you not have wizards and witches where you come from?”
“We do,” I say, “but we use the terms differently. Can you explain what you mean by a ‘witch’ here in Oz?”
“A witch is someone with the power to control the minds and actions, not just of humans, but of other Fae. The four siblings of this Isle were particularly gifted in that respect. They were immune to each other’s powers, but they could maintain control over large numbers of Fae from a distance, for long periods of time. Those of us in this village were thralls laboring under the oppressive will of the East Witch, unable to make any significant choices on our own.”
“That’s horrible,” I breathe.
“It was.” Glenna’s wings stiffen, as if galvanized by the painful memory. “It’s a relief to talk like this, without someone else curbing my speech.”
“Happy to have been of service in setting you free,” Dorothy says, popping a chunk of fruit into her mouth.
“The history of this Isle is so fascinating,” I add encouragingly. “Please tell us more.”
“Shortly after his arrival, the Green Wizard became the North Witch’s lover,” Glenna says. “She was besotted with him—even transferred the allegiance of her thralls to him. About a year ago they had a terrible argument, and she made her one wish to him—a wish no one ever heard, but rumor has it he distorted her request and used it to curse her instead. As part of the curse, she was exiled to the Unseelie Kingdom.”
A small group of Fae on the doorstep of the temple begins to play music—a wild, swaying, seductive tune. The melody teases the ear, begs to occupy my whole mind, soul, and body. It’s so enticing that I struggle to concentrate on Glenna’s next words.
“After that, the Green Wizard began to conquer the entire Isle. The other siblings tried to avenge their banished sister. But the Wizard killed the South Witch and claimed their thralls. Then he fought with the West Witch and stole some of his magic. After that, the East Witch, our ruler, agreed to operate under the Wizard’s rule and pay him tribute. She was always the most ruthless of the four.”
“Worse than her brother?” Dorothy raises her eyebrows.
“The West Witch allows his vassals some freedom,” says Glenna sourly. “The East Witch preferred to keep us firmly under her control, allowing us only the smallest of choices. But such oppressive control was draining for her, so she gave me and some of the guards a little more leash than the others—a bit more authority in the day-to-day workings of the village, just to keep from having to make too many mundane decisions herself. Her power was the weakest of the four siblings. Sometimes, when she traveled too far from here, her control would slip, or she would struggle to maintain her hold on the strongest of us. But those lapses were never enough to give us a chance at freedom. In this village, those with stronger wills are tortured until they weaken, then imprisoned to await their doom.”
I suppress a shudder.
“Why didn’t the West Witch enthrall us, when he appeared today?” Dorothy asks.
“As I said, the Green Wizard stole that power from him—siphoned it away so he could use it himself. Since then, the West Witch stays within the borders of his territory, refusing to swear allegiance to the Emerald City. And for some reason the Wizard hasn’t killed him yet.”
“Will the Green Wizard take control of your minds himself, now that you’ve been freed?” I ask.
“He hasn’t enthralled anyone for months. Some say the power, which is permanent with the royals of Oz, wanes when it is stolen by someone else. So we may be safe from his control, but not from his rule. I would send someone to make a wish for our village’s independence, but unluckily for us, no current or former thrall can make a wish to the Wizard.”
“Interesting,” I comment, momentarily distracted from the delightful music. “I suppose the compulsion magic and the wish magic clash somehow.”
Glenna nods. “The Green Wizard tried to have his own thralls make wishes to himself, on his behalf, but it didn’t work. Or so the East Witch said.” Glenna’s face turns smugly triumphant. “She may have stolen my choices, but she did not steal my ears. She would often speak freely before us, thinking of us as drones without thought—but I remember everything she said.”
“And he will grant a wish toanyone?” My heart pulses with sudden, panicked eagerness. “Could he send someone to the mainland? To the Seelie or Unseelie kingdom?”
“Since the Wizard’s arrival, no one has been able to leave the Isle,” Glenna replies. “The sole exception was the North Witch herself, and they say her banishment was because of something she wished for.”
“What about a ship?” Dorothy suggests.
“Any vessel that tries to leave finds itself headed for shore again. We used to trade a little with some neighboring islands, but since the Green Wizard arrived, sailors quickly learned that those who come here never return. Occasionally Fae miss the warnings and come here anyway, seeking the Wizard’s help, only to find out, after their one wish is granted, that they cannot leave. But in your case, if your one wish is to depart, he might allow it.”
“And how do I get to him?”
Dorothy sets down her wine goblet rather hard and stares at me, incredulous. “Alice, do you really want to go visit this magic-stealing murder-wizard?”
She has a point, but I’m desperate. “Nearly everyone’s a murderer in Faerie. There’s not much of a moral code here.”
Dorothy’s expression shifts, interest overtaking her features.
