Chapter Nineteen. Dorothy #2
Remy leads Ana and me to a table near a large fireplace where a few blackened logs are spiderwebbed with glowing embers, the fire dying out.
I suppose with this many people packed into the inn and tavern, the fire is no longer necessary.
The body heat is enough to keep the plaster and wood-beamed space feeling cozy.
The rest of the council fans out, claiming the two remaining tables in the back corner.
The din of conversation fills the main room, but I notice the volume drop as people become aware of my presence, watching me as I slip through the tables, trailing behind Ana.
The attention makes my skin crawl, but I breathe deeply, trying to remind myself it’ll wear off.
Eventually they’ll find something far more interesting to focus on.
The Red Wander not only offers beds for the night but has a full-service tavern on the ground floor and tonight there’s stew, fresh-baked rolls, and ale.
I don’t think I like ale, but Ana says it’s the best ale in all the Hollow and it pairs well with the stew.
I tell them I have no money to pay, but Remy waves me off and says it’s all on the house, even the beds.
“That’s very kind of you,” I start, “but I’m not sure that’s fair to Remy. I’d like to pay in some way if—”
“Nonsense!” Ana cuts in. “You’ve saved us all from the Witch of the East, who up until now was unkillable, mind you. I don’t think you know the gravity of what you’ve done for us.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “We owe you at least a million more meals.”
I check Remy’s reaction since it’s their food and their bed.
“It would be my pleasure. Please know that.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Then thank you. Truly.”
Remy nods and heads to the kitchen to put in our order. And as soon as we’re alone, Ana scooches her chair in and leans toward me, all her attention squarely on me.
“So,” she says. “I’m told you arrived in Oz by a cyclone and a house that fell from the sky?”
She asks the question matter-of-factly, as if traveling by house is no different from bus or carriage.
“It was a storm that brought me, yes. And now I’m trying to get home to Kansas.”
A server brings out two glazed mugs of ale. The mugs are red like the building.
Ana takes a long drink from hers. I sniff mine first. There is the hoppy scent I expected, but beneath that I detect pumpkin, warm spices, vanilla, and honey.
“It’s called Pumpkinhead,” Ana says, dabbing at her mouth with the napkin. “Go on. Try it.”
Beside me, on his own chair, Toto peers up at me from beneath his messy fringe.
Edward and I once got drunk on straight vodka in the Gilbert barn.
We were barely sixteen and Edward’s parents had gone into the city to sell their latest harvest. Edward had found the vodka bottle forgotten in the cellar.
The first few drinks were unbearable. But then the alcohol started to warm my belly and the taste wasn’t as sharp. Toto barked at me and Edward when we decided to two-step together beneath the stars, as if he were annoyed by my lack of judgment.
I did suffer a hangover the next morning and quickly learned that if I didn’t want to hate myself, taking it slow was in my best interest.
I take a drink of this famous Glimming Hollow ale, fully expecting to hate it. I’m not much of a beer drinker. I prefer whisky sours if I have a choice. But my first sip has my eyes going round. “Okay. Wow!”
“Yes!” Ana says. “Delicious, isn’t it?”
“That’s really good.”
Toto huffs out a breath and then turns a circle on the chair, settling on a spot with his back to me.
Oh, he’s definitely judging me.
Our server brings out our meal. Steam rises from the dark stew and the rolls glisten with a sugar glaze.
My stomach growls. I don’t know what time it is or how long I’ve been in Oz, but my stomach is clearly telling me it’s been far too long.
I tear off a piece of bread and dip it in the stew and the moment I bite into it, a sense of calm washes through me. Food might be the universal comfort. There is nothing better than a warm meal in a strange place.
“Oh my god, this is good.” The potatoes are cooked to the perfect consistency and the roasted meat melts in my mouth. But it’s the broth that holds the most complex flavor. Salty and sweet and rich.
For the first time since I woke in Oz, I think: Everything is going to be okay.
Somehow, I manage to get through two full mugs of ale by the time I reach the bottom of my bowl of stew. Despite filling my belly with food, the alcohol hits me quickly and a rush of warmth fills my cheeks.
Distantly, I’m aware that I did not, in fact, pace myself. But the worry is miles away now.
Toto scowls at me but I’m ignoring him now because I finally feel good about this place.
“Did you tell her?” one of the council members shouts from the back corner.
Ana says, “Shhh! Not yet. I wanted the girl to have some food first!”
“Tell me what?”
Her mouth forms an O of excitement as she shimmies her chair over, closing the distance between us.
“The council is planning a celebration of our liberation tomorrow night in East Manor. That’s the name of the provost’s mansion. My house,” she adds with a wink. “Anyway, you would be the guest of honor and you would be treated as such and—”
“Why are you all so happy the witch is dead?” The ale is making my tongue loose, but in the moment, I don’t care. I have the answer the Enders gave me, but I’m curious to hear more from the people in charge.
“That’s a long story,” Ana answers.
“I have time.”
Ana motions the server over for another round of ale. Our cups are refilled.
“The Cardinal Witches were good, in the beginning.” Ana wraps her hand around the mug of ale and pauses, taking a breath. “After the Cardinal Gods abandoned us and the edge of Oz turned to desert, we were all desperate to understand.”
“Wait. When you say gods, do you mean … mythological figures that you worshipped? Like in church? Or…”
“I don’t know what church is, but the gods were real. They blessed us and our harvests and our lands. They would visit our cities and our villages, bestowing their love. But one day, they just disappeared.”
The warm, fuzzy feeling I have from the ale helps me suspend my disbelief. If Ana says there are gods, then I believe her. “No one knows why the gods left?”
She shrugs and takes another drink. “The witches said it was punishment to the royal family. That they had tried to steal power from the gods and the gods were punishing them, but we were all suffering the consequences. When the witches and the royals clashed, that started the Great and Terrible War. And it was the warring of different magic that caused the Great and Terrible Curses.”
The Enders mentioned that the sky is dark, regardless of the time of day, all because of a curse.
“You said curses, plural?” I ask.
“Yes. There are hundreds. Maybe thousands. Hard to say.”
My mouth drops open. “What other curses are there?”
“Anything from bad luck to being forgotten. There’s an entire village in the South where everyone was turned into ceramic.”
Okay, the disbelief is rising. I’m having a hard time keeping my mouth shut. I’m just gaping in shock now.
“Even the Witch of the West suffers from the Great and Terrible Curses. Two, to be exact, but we only know one.”
“Which is…”
“She’s afraid of the dark.”
“I mean, me too.”
“Right?” Ana says and chuckles into her mug of ale before taking a sip.
“How do you know there’s a second one?”
Ana thinks. “You know, I’m not sure. It’s just something we all know.”
“But you don’t know what it is?”
“Exactly.”
“And the royal family?” I ask. “Where are they now?”
“All dead.”
I don’t know if I should be sad for this family, or if they were truly horrible people and perhaps got what they deserved.
“It’s the Cardinal Witches who now rule the separate territories surrounding the Emerald City, which belongs to the Wizard of Oz.”
“And how does the wizard factor into this?”
“Oh, the wizard is the most powerful of all.” Ana’s eyes get big when she talks about him. “He’s the true hero of the Great and Terrible War. It was he who finally defeated the royals.”
My head is spinning. It might also be the ale. Toto lifts his head to give me a look like he can read my mind and is agreeing with this theory.
Mind your business, I tell him with my eyes, and he huffs out a puff of air that makes his whiskers flutter.
“So … take me back to the Witch of the East. Why are you celebrating her death?”
Ana nods. “Like I said, she was good in the beginning and somewhere along the way, she became wicked. You see, unlike the wizard, the witches must tap into something to use their magic, and the East, she was…” Ana trails off, her eyes glassy and faraway.
“She was what?”
“She was sacrificing East Enders for power.”