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“This is our second meeting,” said Brrr, writing it down on a new page, “and our last one. We spent too much time dancing each other’s histories yesterday. Down to business, and at once, before the army arrives.”
“And arrive it will,” she said. “I have it on the highest authority.”
“Your deepest sixth sense?” he asked, cuttingly.
“No,” she admitted. “Higher than that. My trust in human cruelty. But ask your question; I’m as sick of this as you are. I’d like to see your big furry behind waddling away. Or imagine it, anyway. And plant an old boot in it as you leave, for that matter.”
“You wouldn’t be the first. Now listen. About the rumors circulating for a decade or so that Elphaba Thropp had a son. That boy named Liir.”
“What about him?”
“If he is her son, and if he is still alive, and if he has
no sisters from Elphaba, then he is next in line to inherit the position of Eminent Thropp. He would be the de facto governor of Munchkinland. His claim would trump that of the Holy Emperor of Oz, Shell Thropp. Elphaba’s brother.”
“I know who Shell is, and I know about Liir, too.”
“Can you confirm he is Elphaba’s son? Or if he is alive? He was here, it seems—some years ago.”
She had no interest in giving the Lion any scrap of information that might help the EC thugs locate Liir. She spoke cautiously and shared only what she thought was redundant or immaterial. “Yes. He has been here three times in his life. Once as a young child—perhaps even an infant—when Elphaba wasn’t yet the Wicked Witch of the West. She set out from here to the castle in the west—”
“Kiamo Ko.”
“Yes, yes, whatever it’s called. She repaired there for reasons of her own. She took the child with her, though where he came from originally—if he was really her issue—I don’t know.”
“Don’t you know through your inner vision? Can’t you figure it out?”
“Even if I did know, what proof would you have? Only my word. I might as well say he was the result of a broomstick handle poking itself hot and jolly in the vortex of a tall black hat. What difference would it make? Just because I have had visions doesn’t mean they’re true.”
Though she had never said that to herself before.
He grunted. “Didn’t sleep well, did we.”
She glared at him as well as a blind person can manage. He continued in a more neutral tone. “Whatever you say goes on record. Let someone else decide if it is true or not. When was the other time you saw Liir?”
“It was after he’d been attacked in the air by the Emperor’s dragons, as I understand it. He was left for dead in the Disappointments a little to the south. Some do-gooder hauled his carcass here for the maunts to tend. Then a young Quadling woman named Candle, a novice, brought him back to health and life, through devices and schemes of her own.”
“You had nothing to do with it?”
She paused.
“Don’t lie to me, don’t lie to me,” he roared. “Why bother? The whole world lies! Don’t you do it, too!”
“I helped her a little,” said Yackle. How odd to feel capable of being shaken. Maybe she was dying! Her spirits lifted at once. “Yes, I helped her, why not? I didn’t know if Liir was Elphaba’s son, but he might have been; I could see that. I remembered him from childhood. So I introduced a little romance into the therapeutic situation. Oh, Candle, that weird duck: She was a honey, but a mystery, too.”
“As who isn’t,” he said.
“As who isn’t,” she agreed. “So I took it upon myself to stand guard upon the tower room where she was helping him cling to life, in all the ways that a young woman can and will.”
“Ways?” The Lion was all ears. His whiskers trembled.
“Don’t be prurient, you old goat.”
“You said it. You mean it, too; I can tell.”
She had said it; it had slipped out. Time for damage control. “Yes,” she continued. “I had never enjoyed the benefit of a good leg-over. I thought she might. I thought he might. He looked rather scathingly virginal to me. Call it, what term do they use—call it transference. Call it divine sublimation. Call it a metaphor. I locked them in together and let their natures run their course.”
“And what happened?”
