“I’m watching the fleet. Sing away.”

“Here I go.” Please, Lurlina, please. Or the Unnamed God. Anyone who might be paying attention. Elphaba.

She reeled her voice out. It wasn’t very convincing. “That was it?” caled Rain.

“That was my warm-up. Here comes the real thing.”

She was gratified that when she let loose, two of the dragons turned their heads. But she couldn’t watch them. Zackers was unlocking the door. “Glory and gumption, Lady Glinda? Are you al right?” She wheezed, holding her side. “The girl! She’s trying to escape! Out the window! Oh, Cherrystone wil have my head!

“Also yours,” she added, in a more normal voice, as Zackers rushed to the open window.

“Holy Saint Florix,” said Zackers. “Get in here, girl, before I whup you. You’l break every little riblet in your skinny little frame. Take my hand.”

“Oh, oh,” screamed Glinda, beginning to enjoy the role.

“Don’t worry, Mum; I’ve almost got her. She’s quite the little scorpion, en’t she?”

Glinda walked backward, screeching, the way she’d seen opera singers do onstage—only of course their sound was musical, while she was working to deliver something convincingly atonal. In midscreech, she stopped dead. Zackers, his head and torso leaning out the window, turned at the sudden silence. She lifted her skirts and rushed him like a bul, kicked his damn boots off her good carpet, and tumbled him out the window. For Puggles, she thought.

“Nicely managed, Rain,” she said. “You can come in now.”

“I like it out here,” said Rain.

“You heard me.” She didn’t want to look down. She had appreciated Zackers, for a few days anyway, and she hoped he wasn’t dead. But he was moaning and cursing. It was only nine feet after al.

But too high to climb up, even if his ankle wasn’t broken, which it looked to be, the way his foot was improperly hinged. And he could never leap to the ground.

“How clumsy of me,” she caled down to the roof. “I must take a refresher course in deportment to restore my glide.” Zackers’s reply wasn’t suitable for Rain’s hearing, and Glinda hustled her away. But not before picking up the Grimmerie.

The house was empty of soldiers, as far as she could tel; they had al evacuated onto the ships except, she supposed, a skeleton crew holding Mockbeggar hostage. Knowing an unencumbered view would be essential, she hurried Rain up the dusty steps to the parapet. Ah!—free from this summer bondage for a few moments at least.

“You need to help me with this one, Rain,” she told the girl.

“I’m ready, Mum.”

Glinda taught her the words. They stood facing the fleet— The Vinkus, the Quadling Country, the Gillikin, the Munchkinland—its four powerhouse dragons yoked between prows, as Murth—Murth!—

had imagined, and the two extra dragons paddling along in the rear like a pair of proud snarling parents.