6. Chapter 6
six
I had more questions for Morella. More even than before. Mostly, I wanted to know how she knew Mombi, what Mombi’s role in all of this might be, and why the soothsayer had harbored me in my world. What had been in it for her? And how had Mombi gotten her hands on me in the first place?
Morella had said Diggs was responsible for my disappearance—for Ozma’s. Regarding my removal from Oz, she’d accused Glinda of being in league with The Wizard, too.
What would Rye say to that? Previously, when Morella had tried to implicate Glinda in wrongdoings—treason—Rye had refused to believe a word of it. I could ask Nick about Glinda. But questioning Oz’s beloved “Good Witch” might raise his suspicions about me again. Now that I had gained a modicum of trust from him, I didn’t want to be banished to his north tower a second time.
For now, I would hold onto these questions. Speculation could only lead me into mental circles when I needed to preserve my wits. Especially when my mind already had too much to chew on.
But if I understood Morella, which I had at least begun to, then I could be fairly confident she would not pop up again until she was ready to tackle the subject of her sister’s death a second time. Or until something in my reality threatened to expose her presence.
Either way, Morella couldn’t wander off too far since she was attached to me.
So, with my thoughts heavy, burdened with all that Morella had revealed and the niggling question of how much she might still have purposefully omitted—or twisted—I put on the simple blue dress that was a bit too big for me, particularly in the chest, and left my room.
The halls of Nick’s castle proved as austere, slate, and unyielding as its master.
Whereas the Emerald City Palace had boasted elaborate decorations and played host to lush furniture, intricate windows, and doorways galore, this castle, once Morella’s, remained dark and dank, kicking up only a bit of flare here and there, like a sword-wielding statue, a worn tapestry, or a beautifully carved wooden chair.
While guards could be found around any corner in Rye’s palace, the guards here were fewer and more sparsely stationed. I found them in pairs, situated in front of select doors, their faces mostly lost behind the black iron shields of the helms that made them seem so much like their sovereign. Most were Winkies, residents of Oz with skin tones different from any I’d ever encountered in my own world—green like Morella, pale gray like Rye, amethyst, turquoise, and even rose pink.
Though I couldn’t say I was looking for Nick on my wanderings—not exactly since I had planned to wend my way back to Rye—the Emperor of the West was who I found.
Then again, maybe he had planned to intercept me.
“Your antics with the windows have caused quite a stir,” he said, stepping into view as I descended a set of corkscrewing stone steps. “Especially when the pictures played on even while you slept. And still, they move.”
“I’d turn them off if I knew how,” I said.
“The effect is admittedly beautiful,” he replied. “For those of my people you’ve not terrified, you’ve granted some hope, I think.”
“It’s never been my intention to frighten anyone.”
“The sooner you grasp how little control you have over how people perceive you,” he said, “the better off you’ll be. This way if you please.”
He turned to go, his heavy cloak wavering after as he started down the hall, metal feet clanking in that now-familiar way. I followed as directed, holding my tongue even though I wanted to respond. Better to wait, though, until I could be sure he’d hear me.
A few turns took us to a large study, its bookshelf walls stuffed with tomes, the welcome scents of ink and paper stirring my spirits. More carved wooden chairs waited inside, positioned around a long meeting table. Near the window, a familiar metal bird housed in a metal cage gleamed in the cold light.
“Oh!” I rushed to the animatronic bird, which did not move but stared sightlessly forward. “Rye has one just like this.”
“Does he?” Nick shut the door behind us with a punctuative clunk.
“Yes,” I replied. “I saw it that night…”
I stopped myself and swallowed my words straight away. They went down lumpy and full of air, and they churned in my stomach.
“That night?” prompted Nick.
I shook my head, heat stinging my cheeks. Because Rye kept the twin of this mechanical bird in his rooms. His…private chambers.
“Do you hesitate because you don’t want me to know you snuck into his rooms, or because you don’t want me to know he invited you in?”
Bah.
The burn in my face increased to the point of being painful and suddenly this drafty castle wasn’t quite drafty enough.
“I’m flattered you think I could sneak myself or anything past Rye,” I said because really, there was no use hiding from Nick at this point. And what was there to hide anyway? He must know how I felt about Rye.
“So, he invited you. Interesting.”
Augh.So uncomfortable.
“What is this bird?” I asked. “Rye’s moved and squawked. Why doesn’t yours?”
“I turned it off,” replied Nick, that goggle-shielded gaze remaining aimed at me like a pair of cannons. “Rye’s is likely still on. But he’s not there to communicate with me, so I switched mine off. That will cause Rye’s to go dormant. I thought that might increase the likelihood of his bird being preserved.”
“Communicate?” I asked. “You mean you could speak to him through this?”
“We spoke nearly every day,” he said. “I made the birds after Rye lamented about having to send Grip to me so often.”
“Are they magic?” I asked, admiring the greenish sheen on the bird’s razor-thin metal feathers. “They have to be, don’t they?”
“The Wicked Witch of the West left many interesting artifacts behind in this castle,” said Nick, “including an enchanted object or two. They’ve come in handy as parts.”
I turned my head his way, curious. “When you made Jack, did you use any of those objects? Anything that belonged to her? West?”
“No. Any magic that animated him, I assure you, was purely your own.”
I smiled a little. Then frowned, returning my gaze to the metal beast.
“This bird,” I said, “if we turned it on, would it allow us to speak to someone in the Emerald City Palace?”
“In theory, yes,” said Nick. “Though, even if the bird’s twin still exists—which, I have my doubts—I am dubious there would be anyone currently in the king’s chambers, or wherever the bird has been moved, with whom we might have a fruitful conversation. Why? Was there someone you had in mind?”
I shook my head. Of course, Nick was right. No doubt Langwidere had taken over Rye’s chambers. It would be a bad idea to reveal we had a direct line to such an important room, even if Rye’s bird was still there. Even if that connection wasn’t currently doing us any good.
Still, I should answer his question.
“I should have told you this before,” I said, “but…I wasn’t sure how to.”
“Cahal was there,” said Nick.
I looked up, eyes round, gaze cutting his way.
“Rye told me via the Gripline the day Cahal arrived,” Nick explained.
The Gripline. That must be what they called the pair of metal birds.
“Then you know—”
“That he was there during the siege,” he said, “yes.”
I looked down, shame swelling within me. I wasn’t sure why I felt responsible for Cahal, but I did. I felt responsible for everyone. Especially now that I knew why Rye had, in those final days before everything imploded, shifted his strategy from offense against Langwidere—to defense. Of me.
“Rye warned Cahal to stay in his region,” I said. “But…he didn’t obey. He was worried about Rye. Actually, Cahal was worried about me. Uncertain if I had placed Rye under some spell. So, he came anyway.”
“Rye should know Cahal will never take orders from anyone but his own high and mighty feline self. Not even from Rye. Especially not from him. King of Oz or not.”
I peeked Nick’s way, fingers curling around the delicate bars of the birdcage. Had I heard him right?
“Will never?” I pressed.
“Cahal lives,” said Nick.
I shut my eyes, an enormous lion-heavy weight sliding free of my form. “How do you know?”
“Langwidere sent a message this morning,” he said, “proposing a trade.”
“She wants Rye,” I guessed, fear clutching my heart in its familiar grip, squeezing.
“She wants you,” Nick corrected.
My mouth popped open, my eyes going wide a second time. To this, though, I didn’t say anything. After all, Nick would do what Nick would do. Perhaps this was why he had closed the door after us. Were there guards now waiting outside to escort me to some exchange point?
“They’ll kill Cahal if you don’t send me,” I said.
“They’ll kill you if I do,” he replied—a truth to rebut mine. “Or perhaps she even seeks to tap your powers the way she is siphoning Glinda’s. Maybe she simply hopes to see which of the two of us holds the most power since she can’t know your magic has been sealed.”
“No matter her aim with this play,” I said, “we have to get him out.”
“I am…open to ideas,” replied Nick, tenseness reentering his normally too-even tone.
“You said Langwidere sent a message. How did she know Rye and I came here?”
“Process of elimination,” Nick answered in that matter-of-fact way. “With Cahal presumed dead and Glinda still missing in the South, Rye would have to head here. There are armies he could command in the other two quadrants, yes, but his ultimate goal was to protect you. Something that only I could ensure. Langwidere must have understood that.”
“But you won’t now turn me over to her to save Cahal?”
“Neither of my friends would wish me to betray the other, let alone Oz, to save either.”
Pressing my lips into a line, I held my silence, unable to do anything for several moments but stand in reverence of this bond shared by these friends, one forged during a quest that had led them all to this current moment. And what they shared. Well, it was almost…holy.
“You said you were open to ideas,” I reminded him.
“Open,” he conceded with some hesitancy.
“I don’t know much about sorcery,” I said. “I haven’t had a proper teacher, and as you know, my powers are new to me since they never presented themselves in my world. But…we know Langwidere used Glinda’s powers to access the mirrors in the Emerald City Palace from her kingdom of Ev. Rye said that witches can use mirrors to travel between locations—provided said witch has visited those locations before. My powers might be sealed but, obviously, I still have some use of them.”
“You propose that you sneak into the very palace Rye fought to smuggle you out of? You and Cahal will both end up dead.”
I bit back my next words. Perhaps it was folly to use Langwidere’s own methods against her. And Nick was likely right about that risk leading to more death.
“There must be another way,” he said. “If only Rye were here.”
So, I hadn’t been the only one to depend on Rye’s genius in a pinch. Still, for better or for worse, Rye’s cunning—not to mention his shrewdness—had rubbed off on me.
“About Rye,” I said, my voice still small, but imbued with enough strength to draw that reflective gaze away from the snowy scene outside the window and slowly back to me. “I’ve thought of a way we might…get him to that spring.”
“Say it,” barked Nick.
“The idea is…um…the same,” I offered. “In essence.”
“Using a mirror to travel there?” he snapped, his impatience once again flashing. “You’ve never been to the spring in question.”
“I haven’t,” I agreed. “But you said Dorothy knew where the spring was. And, well, somewhere that I have been…is Kansas.”