The Princess groaned. “She might have been a help! But it is too late. I hear through the report of a Mountain Grite that the peculiar woman is dead. Elphaba.” The interpreter pronounced it wrong. “EL-phaba,” said Liir.

“Is the murderer here among us?” asked the Princess.

“It was an accident,” said Dorothy. “I didn’t mean it.” She put the end of one of her pigtails into her mouth and chewed it.

“The deceased was a curious creature,” said the Princess. “I only met her once, but she impressed me with her stamina. She did not seem the type to die.”

“Who does?” said Dorothy.

“Speak for yourself,” muttered the Lion. “I die a little bit every day, especially if there are unfriendly faces in the room.”

Through her factotum, the Princess continued her message. “You are in grave danger.

Not least from me. Murder and theft of the Witch’s belongings, the way I see it, but even worse: doing so in collusion with the Wizard.”

Liir protested, sputtering. “Not in collusion with the Wizard!”

“Well, the Wizard of Ozdid ask me to kill her,” admitted Dorothy. “No use crying overthat spilt milk. He did, and I won’t lie about it. But I didn’t intend to do it. I just wanted her forgiveness for the accidental death of her sister. And then there was the bucket of water. And how was I to know? I mean, we don’t have witches back home in Kansas. We wouldn’t hear of it.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” interrupted Liir. “Listen, Princess Nastoya, please. I lived with the Witch all my life. There’s no question of theft. I am the next of kin.”

“How so?”

He couldn’t answer. The Princess pressed her point.

“Can you prove it?”

He shrugged. His skin was neither green, like Elphaba’s, nor musky ocher, like Fiyero’s children and widow. Liir was rather pasty, in fact; not a convincing specimen of anything, when you got right down to it.

“It is no matter,” said the Princess. “I would not kill you. Oh no, I would not. But others might, and I wonder if I could prevent them. We have no sway with the Arjikis, as the collapse of my recent campaign shows.”

“Why would the Wizard’s armies bother to raise a hand against us?” asked Liir. “The Witch is dead, and the ruling family of the Arjikis—the house and line of Fiyero—has been obliterated.”

“Even the daughter?” asked the Princess.

Liir’s mouth dropped. “Do you mean Nor? Have you heard otherwise about her? What can you tell me of her?”

“I have capable ears,” she answered, but continued. “Can you prove the Witch is dead?”

“You want us to bring her back to life?” Liir scoffed. “You might as well kill us now, if that’s your demand.”

The Princess indicated that she wanted to stand. “It’s the neck, it creaks under the weight of too much heavy thinking,” she said. It took nine men to cantilever her to her feet, and then they brought her a pair of jeweled canes as thick as newel posts. She leaned forward and fixed Liir in the eye.