2
When the news of Nessarose’s premature death arrived at Kiamo Ko by carrier pigeon, the Witch was deep in an operation of sorts, stitching the wings of a white-crested male roc into the back muscles of one of her current crop of snow monkeys. She had more or less perfected the procedure, after years of botched and hideous failures, when mercy killing seemed the only fair thing to do to the suffering subject. Fiyero’s old schoolbooks in the life sciences, from Doctor Nikidik’s course, had given some leads. Also the Grimmerie had helped, if she was reading it correctly: She had found spells to convince the axial nerves to think skyward instead of treeward. And once she got it right, the winged monkeys seemed happy enough wit
h their lot. She had yet to see a female monkey in her population produce a winged baby, but she still had hopes.
Certainly they had taken better to flying than they had to language. Chistery, now a patriarch in the castle menagerie, had plateaued at words of one syllable, and still seemed to have no clear idea of what he was saying.
It was Chistery, in fact, who brought the pigeon’s letter in to Elphaba’s operating salon. The Witch had him hold the fascia-slasher while she unfolded the page. Shell’s brief message told of the tornado and informed her of the memorial service, which was scheduled for several weeks later in the hope that she would receive this message in time to come.
She put the message down and went back to work, placing grief and regret away from her. It was a tricky business, wing attachment, and the sedative she had administered to this monkey wouldn’t last all morning. “Chistery, it’s time to help Nanny down the stairs, and find Liir if you can, and tell him I need to talk to him at lunch,” she said, through her gritted teeth, glancing again at her own diagrams to make sure she had the overlapping of muscle groups in the correct arrangement, front to back.
It was an achievement if Nanny could now make it to the dining room once a day. “That’s my job, that and sleeping, and Nanny does both very well,” she said every single noontime when she arrived, hungry from her exertions on the stairs. Liir put out the cheese and bread and the occasional cold joint, at which the three of them hacked and nibbled, usually in an unsocial mood, before darting off to their afternoon chores.
Liir was fourteen, and insisted he was going to accompany the Witch to Colwen Grounds. “I have never been anywhere, except that time with the soldiers,” he complained. “You never let me do anything.”
“Someone has to stay and take care of Nanny,” said the Witch. “Now there isn’t any point in arguing about it.”
“Chistery can do it.”
“Chistery can’t. He’s getting forgetful, and between him and Nanny they’d burn the place to the ground. No, there’s no more discussion about it, Liir; you’re not going. Besides, I’m going to have to travel on my broom, I think, to get there in time.”
“You never let me do anything.”
“You can do the washing up.”
“You know what I mean.”
“What’s he arguing about now, sweet thing?” asked Nanny loudly.
“Nothing,” said the Witch.
“What’s that you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Aren’t you going to tell her?” said Liir. “She helped raise Nessarose, didn’t she?”
“She’s too old, she doesn’t need to know. She’s eighty-five, it’ll only upset her.”
“Nanny,” said Liir, “Nessie’s dead.”
“Hush, you useless boy, before I remove your testicles with my foot.”
“Nessie did what?” screeched Nanny, looking rheumily out at them.
“Did died dead,” intoned Chistery.
“Did what?”
“Nessie DIED,” said Liir.
Nanny began to weep at the idea before she had even confirmed it. “Can this be true, Elphie? Is your sister dead?”
“Liir, you’ll answer for this,” said the Witch. “Yes, Nanny, I cannot lie to you. There was a storm and a building collapsed. She went very peacefully, they say.”
“She went straight to the bosom of Lurlina,” said Nanny, sobbing. “Lurlina’s golden chariot came to take her home.” She patted the piece of cheese on her plate, inexplicably. Then she buttered a napkin and took a bite. “When do we leave for the funeral?”
“You’re too old to travel, dear. I’m going in a few days. Liir will stay and look after you.”
