Chapter 21
The Emerald Palace, for all its Luxuries, was a rather boring place. At least, that’s what Fiyero’s sibling’s thought. Amael and Thana had dragged him to the palace pool, as it was the only ‘fun’ thing to do, and their mother was insistent an adult be with them. While the pool was indoors, it shone bright with light that trickled through the green glass. The water sparked an iridescent teal, and plants surrounded the entirety of the border, making it feel like some mystical lake hidden away from the world.
“Fiyero, come play with us,” Amael yelled out.
At the moment, the two were playing a child’s version of war. A little red ball that Thana held was the prized object of the game. Whoever had it at the end of the turn won, though the turn never seemed to end. Fiyero who barely had his feet in the water, had no particular interest in this game. He had played it one to many times in the preceding days, and did not think he could bear it, even for his sibling, yet another time.
“I think I’d rather sit this one out,” Fiyero told Amael. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“But we want you to play with us, brother,” Thana huffed, thrashing her arms, and splashing the water everywhere.
“Leave your brother be,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted.
The three looked to the left of the pool, only just noticing the Quadling man. The green lighting almost seemed to cancel out his ruddy skin, but the high cheekbones and harsh features made his Quadling heritage clear. How long he had been sitting there was anyone’s guess. Of course, the Palace pool was open to all guests and so his presences shouldn’t have been a surprise. It was only that neither Fiyero nor the twins had seen anyone at the pool in the last few days, as most found it too cold for a swim, even if the pool was indoors.
“You shouldn’t involve yourself in our family business,” Amael said, far too confidently.
“Yeah!” Thana agreed. “Unless you’re willing to take our brother’s place, don’t presume to take away our third player.”
Fiyero held back a laugh as he watched his siblings. Usually they were kind and polite, as their mother had taught all of them to be. It was only when they were playing games that they felt entitled to rudeness. Fiyero chalked it up to competitive spirit.
“Behave,” Fiyero said. “That is no way to talk to a stranger.”
“It’s alright,” the man said, swimming towards the group. “I’ve six younger brothers, and not one has managed to say a word to me I couldn’t tolerate.”
The hard ‘r’ in the pronunciation brought Fiyero’s mind back to the quadling tavern. Then his mind drifted to Elphaba. He had tried to shake the thoughts of her. They were overwhelming on a good day, and he often had to stop himself from checking the witch’s Den every other hour to see if she had returned.
“What are you playing?” the man asked. “Is it ‘keep away’? I’ll happily take his place, if he’d let me.”
Amael and Thana turned to Fiyero, eyes large and pleading. They rarely got to play with others outside the family when they traveled. Fiyero couldn’t even remember if they ever met a quadling before today. The prince saw no harm in it. He was watching them after all, and the man seemed only to be offering out of kindness. It was the kind of attitude that came with a person who was used to little kids. It made sense given the number of siblings the man said he had.
“Of course, but do remember we have to leave soon,” Fiyero reminded them. “You have a tour of the Palace with Queen Ozma at noon.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Thana squealed.
Fiyero nodded at the girl, and the man gave him a knowing look. Then he laughed as Thana threw the ball at him, and he became a functional jungle gym for the two children.
--
Fiyero dropped his brother’s off with his father and mother, who were all going to tour the palace. Neither of his parents had been able to do so previously, given the circumstances. Fiyero had already traversed the whole of the Emerald Palace and had no interest in doing so again. His mother mercifully set him free, considering he had entertained his siblings for the entire morning. Instead, he found himself in one of the many sunrooms. It was full on natural light and was an enjoyable place to read the multitude of Ozian classics he had missed growing up with Primarily Vinkun literature.
“I thought you’d be with your family.”
Fiyero looked up to see the quadling man from the morning. His hair still damp, though now he was dressed, his muscles hiding under the modest tunic he wore. It seemed far too simple for anyone in the Palace to be wearing, if Fiyero was being honest. In his hand was a lyre, much like Elphaba’s own.
“I’ve been on more than enough tours,” Fiyero answered. “And I have barely had a moment alone since I came to the city. I think I just need some time to reinvigorate myself. Thank you for this morning, by the way. It was a much-needed reprieve.”
The quadling man laughed, sitting down on the couch on the far end. From his pocket, he pulled out a notebook, looking over a page in the middle. Then he tuned his lyre, strumming it a few times to check the sound.
“My father always used to say that even the sun needs a break from the sky sometimes,” the man went on, using one of the many quadling sayings that rarely was heard outside its borders. “And anyways the last time I was able to play with children like that was before my little frog hopped away.”
Fiyero knitted his brows together, confused at the meaning of his words. He assumed ‘little frog’ was a person, a child maybe. Other than that, the metaphor was a little hazy. Maybe he had a kid who grew up, or it was a younger sibling who left home?
“Mind if I practice?” the man asked. “I’m playing at the Lurelinemas celebration, ‘a diverse show of culture’ said Ozma, or something like that.”
“By all means,” Fiyero nodded as he spoke. “I have a taste for quadling music anyways.”
Fiyero listened as the man played guitar, it was a familiar tune. Many quadling tunes were a common sound, shared amongst many songs. No one knew who came up with it, and so it belonged to anyone at all. It was the lyrics that caught Fiyero’s ear, seeming far too similar to another song he had once heard.
“I’m not trying,
To escape,
My muddied life,
your scornful fate.
It’s these men,
Who need to hate,
Who stole our words,
And forced our reshape.
They sounded like Elphaba’s words, her ballad. Closing his book, he stood up and made his way over to the man playing. He looked down at the old leather book. It was beyond worn. What was once a light beige color muddied to a much darker shade of brown. On the edges, pictures and notes of paper, clearly added in a rush.
“The flowers grow,
across the land,
On the graves,
Of all the damned,
And all that’s left,
Is one thing to say:
“I can see it,
in the glass,
The soldiers and their wicked ways,
Will one day pass.
They will reap,
All that they’ve sown,
And in the great beyond,
They’ll be alone.’”
The music went on for a few more moments. Once the final waves of sound had passed, the prince opened his mouth.
“You wrote that?”
Fiyero’s words were clipped. The quadling looked up, trying to decipher whether the tone was a misread of the flat vinkun affect, or some larger negative emotion. Most, if not all, of the rest of Oz never fancied hearing the Emerald City and its soldiers be talked down on. That being said, it wasn’t like those of the Vinkus were lining up to share their world views and opinions with the rest of Oz. More often than not, the Vinkus was content to stay behind its mountains and leave everyone else to their squabbles.
“Yes,” the man answered, then paused before continuing. “Most of it anyways. The bare bones of the structure and lyrics come from an older song though. One I wrote with my little frog.”
The man reached over to his book, flipping through a good number of pages before landing on an old photo. It was faded and the color was muted, but the image was clear enough. It was a girl, a small green girl. Her hair was an oxblood color, a red so dark it was almost black. She wore black, her dress falling right below the knee, with white frills poking from the bottom. There were wrinkles in her shoes as her squatted on her tiptoes, looking down at the glass orb in front of her. She had a displeased expression, her nose wrinkled at the camera. It was as if she saw something in the glass, something she found truly disgusting. The man was there, sat in the background against a tree, the lyre on his lap.
Fiyero turned over the picture to see writing on the card. 'Phabala & T.H. Summer-' the numbers were too faded to see, but it had obviously been a decade or more, given the quality of the photo. Of course, he knew who the girl was. Nessa and Shell’s sister. The green girl who had died at the hands of small-minded bullies.
“You knew the Thropps?”
“Knew them? I practically raised those kids in the summers. Them high class people look down on us quadlings, but they can leave their whole family alone for months and not blink an eye.”
“I’m friends with Shell and Nessa,” Fiyero offered up, not knowing how to respond to what the man had just said. “I didn’t get to meet Elphaba, but Nessa speaks highly of her.”,
As he spoke, Fiyero’s eyes never left the photo. There was a familiarity in it. The way her cheek and nose fell, the look in her eyes, how she held herself. Part of him did feel like he knew the girl, somehow.
“She was different than the rest,” The man offered, a bittersweet tinge in his voice. “She was desperate to be wanted by someone. Melena and the Nanny never paid much attention to her, either too drunk or fussing over the little one to care much. She was always hiding away in her room or the gardens. No one could find her if she didn’t wanna be found. Sometimes I worried I’d lost the poor girl. She had the gift, could see more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Gift?”
“Of sight, future, past, and present. I used to be a glass blower. Very important to quadlings, at least in the ovvels, given most of us have some sight of the present at least. She broke more than one of my glass orbs in fits over it.”
“That sounds more like a curse.”
Fiyero’s voice echoed through the room. The gems seemed to lose their shine. A cloud passing through, covering the sun that brightened the room. A chill came over him, one that seemed to run down the quadling man’s spine as well. The man pulled a sphere from his pocket, unwrapping it from the protective cloth to show Fiyero. The vinkun prince saw nothing at all, but the rose-colored man saw the twins, hanging off their parents as Ozma walked them to the throne room. Then he saw the red-headed witch sitting on the Queen’s throne, looking through a shuffle of papers. The green mark across her leg was easily visible even with the black tights she wore underneath.
“A witch sitting on the Queen’s throne,” the man said. “Can you see it?”
He offered the orb to the prince, but all that the saw was light reflecting off the glass, and a sheer image of his reflection.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Those in power never seem to.”
It was more of a musing than a dig at Fiyero and his family’s status, though he couldn’t help but feel irked by it. Taking his book, he made his way to the door, mumbling a quick ‘goodbye.’ The man, lost in his thoughts and visions in his orb, didn’t say anything back.