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She should have listened to Elphie.
There was a substantiful list of things that such a thought could be about, but at the moment, Glinda was applying it to the philosophication she’d posed that night after the Ozdust. Leaders did need brains and knowledge, in addition to being popular. At least enough to make tax regulations make any kind of sense.
She hated herself for feeling wistful about how much simpler things were when she was just the face of leadership, while Madame Morrible and the Wiz— Oscar Diggs had been the ones actually doing the work.
Horrible work. Work she was complicicated in. Work she had to try and undo now, because she promised her best friend, she promised.
Everything she did now came with a stab through the heart, reminding her that her dead best friend would actually know how to handle this. And it was Glinda’s fault she was gone. Not only her fault, maybe, but still her fault.
“What good does it do to keep thinking about it, rather than trying to fix it?” She could practically hear Elphaba’s voice in her ear, frustrated, but also just a little fondness in it too. With a deep sigh, she closed the ledger of policy documents and tucked it back into her bag, wincing as her fingers brushed against the other item sitting inside.
The Grimmerie.
It never left her side now, no matter what she was doing. Even when she slept, it was either clasped in her arms or tucked under her pillow. Redesigning her wardrobe to have the kind of pockets that would fit the book had been the kind of challenge she could handle well enough, but she yearned for moments when she could carry it the way Elphaba used to, in that lovingly crafted leather harness.
But she could hardly have it out in the open at the moment. Even sitting in the corner at the back of the train, her hair braided and tucked into a rounded gray hat to hide the blonde waves, her usual bright pinks gowns replaced with a subdued, sensible dress of soft blue and brown stripes, she couldn’t risk doing anything to give away to the other passengers that she was in their midst.
How strange to be riding the train for the first time in… she couldn’t remember how long. She squeezed her eyes shut to force back the tears. She would not get moodified in public. When she knew the danger of crying had passed, she looked out the window, watching the flowery fields give way to tall grass.
Closer now…
Overhead, she caught a glimpse of a few monkeys in flight. Chistery probably wasn’t one of them, she’d left him in the city to keep an eye on things while she made this trip. And to be a distraction for Shen-Shen and Pfanee if need be. The two of them had been following her lead as well as they always had, but they were still… well, they were Pfanee and Shen-Shen. They needed a lead to follow.
And right now, Glinda was the one who needed someone leading her. Or at least walking alongside her.
The train whistle pierced the air seconds before the hideodious screech of the wheels coming to a stop drowned out all other thought.
“Shiz! All passengers for Shiz, this is your stop!”
With a deep breath, she got to her feet and let herself flow into the stream of people exiting the train. It was tempting to pretend everything looked just the way it had when they’d left. But the platform had new metal railings and the side of the ticket booth had been painted with a mural of Dorothy and her companions walking the Yellow Brick Road.
Bile rose in her throat. Yes, it was the story Oz needed, but she didn’t have to like it. She certainly didn’t have to seek out the company of that little party. Or what was left of it. Somewhere in the chaos surrounding Dorothy’s departure from the Emerald City, the Scarecrow had also absconderated, off to Oz only knew where or for what reason.
She envied him for that, at least a little. But she had a job to do.
Rather than take the path that led to the university’s spiraling dorms and waterways, she turned to the road that made its way into the forest, following the route Chistery had provided her before she left to find the stone building that she needed.
At last, she reached the arched entryway leading into the little courtyard and the rounded door of a one-story apartment. After a moment’s hesitation, she knocked just to the side of the glass pane. And another moment later, the door opened, revealing a graying old goat in spectacles and a thick-knit dark blue sweater.
“Miss Glinda.” Dr. Dillamond bleated her name in surprise.
“Did my message not come? Chistery said he’d delivered it, I thought you’d be expecting me.”
“He did. I suppose I just wasn’t certain it was really happening,” her old teacher answered, stepping back slightly with his head tilted to the side. “But I am glad it is. Please, come in.”
“So am I,” she confessed, carefully maneuvering around the furniture to sit on a small stool by the fireplace. “And I’m glad to see that the linguification therapy is helping. We get reports from the program directors, but they’re just numbers on a page. And I see so many numbers on pages every day now.”
Dillamond slowly walked the edge of the room, moving to his teapot. “It is a process. I have been one of the lucky ones in regaining my speech relatively quickly. Others still struggle.”
“Is there any more I can do to help them?” she offered immediately. “It may take some work, but I can certainly try to increase the funding.”
“I will see what I can learn from them at the next meeting. But I do not think that is why you came here, is it, Miss Glinda? Your message was lacking in specifics.”
“Yes, well,” she inhaled nervously, her eyes flickering to the door. “I wanted to talk to you about a subject on the sensitive side.”
The old goat followed her gaze, then looked back at her. “I have very few visitors, Miss Glinda. You can speak freely. What is this subject?”
“Elphaba.” She watched Dillamond freeze in the middle of pouring his tea, struck by a silence that had nothing to do with his ordeal. “I know what you’ve probably heard, Doctor Dillamond. I know what everyone says about her. What I’ve had to say about her.”
“You are the Sorceress Regnant of Oz,” he pointed out, his skeptifying tone unmissable. “There is hardly anyone to compel you to say anything you do not wish.”
No, not any one. Just the only one who mattered.
Promise me you won’t try to clear my name.
Elphaba’s voice echoed in her mind like thunder on the walls of a cave. Glinda clenched her jaw, her mind twisting around to find the logication that would justify breaking that promise. To tell someone the truth, someone who cared about Elphaba.
But there wasn’t one. Not even for Dillamond. He’d push back, make the case Glinda already wanted to make, to tell the truth. He’d put himself in the line of fire for the honor of his deservedly favorite student.
Elphaba would never forgive Glinda if she allowed any more awful things to happen to the old goat.
“We both know I wasn’t a very good student in your class,” she said slowly. “But I did learn enough about how public opinion works to know that it isn’t easily changed.”
“Certainly not when the effort is not even being made.”
He wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t thought at least a thousand times a day. Glinda swallowed, hating that she would have to reference this person to make her point, but it might be the only way she could keep her promise.
“There was a moment, right before she found you. Before she freed you and the other Animals, when… when the Wizard almost convinced Elphaba to join him. And he said,” she couldn’t bring herself to say it word for word. It was bad enough that Dr. Dillamond flinched at the mention of that day. “That people will choose to keep believing a lie they’ve been taught to accept, even when the truth is right in front of them.”
He didn’t say anything, but she saw his head nod, and that was enough to push her forward.
“You’re right. I was silent for too long. I used my voice for the wrong reasons. And I couldn’t save Elphaba. First because I was too scared and selfish, and then because I was too late. I will live with all of that for the rest of my life.” Saying it, she felt exhaustion and anger along with the grief and regret. “But I can’t just live with it. I know I have to learn to be the kind of person she was, the kind I only pretended to be.”
“So what is that you want from me, exactly, Miss Glinda? Forgiveness?”
“No. No, I know that’s something that can only be earned. And I’m not asking you to teach me either. I suppose,” she bit her lip, not caring if it marred the rosebud pink with red blood, “if you’re willing, Doctor Dillamond, what I want is for both of us to have someone we can talk to about her. Truthfully.”
She didn’t presume to call herself his friend. “You don’t have to give me an answer now. Or ever. Just think it over. Send a message if you need anything, anything at all, even if it’s not about this. I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.”
“I understand,” the doctor nodded. "Thank you, Miss Glinda. For your visit. And your offer.”
“I’ll go now—”
“No.” He spoke so quickly and sharply that she stumbled in the midst of trying to correct the step she’d been taken. “No, please, stay. I would like to talk, at least for a while longer today. Besides, the train back to the city will not be for several hours.”
She let herself smile.