“Mustn’t mind your father,” counsels Nanny, some other conversation. “You know he’s never been the same since your mother died. Without her, he’s lost a wheel off his cart, that one. He’s a one-armed juggler, he’s a tin bucket with a hole in it. He can’t deal with the variables. Men are like that. Of course there are talking Animals. I can’t believe you need to be told. Where are your eyes, girl? You’re thirteen or thereabouts, aren’t you? There were Animals in Munchkinland, back in the day. Though the larger ones were often impressed into farmwork as beasts of labor. More often they scarpered off into the backlands. If they could. While the smaller ones always tucked themselves away better, didn’t they, and in plain sight sometimes. They can more easily pass, the littles. But the Emerald City, now! A great liberal togetherness. Some disapprove. Cheek by jowl, can you imagine it.”
Elphie winces at her to continue.
“In this part of the world, of course, which is all you’ve really known, poor dear, the Animals have much more wilderness to be wild in. And they can be suspicious of humans. Who can blame them, as we haven’t wholly lost our taste for roasts and chops. I seriously didn’t ever consider that you were ignorant of Animals. Didn’t you once mention about talking to a Monkey that wouldn’t show up and talk to anyone else? Long ago?”
“I wasn’t sure that had really happened. I’m still not sure. Anyway, no one believed me.”
“You always had a sly way of seeing out of the corner of your eye. Don’t fret, it might come in handy someday. Meanwhile, you don’t need your father’s permission to notice what you notice. There’s liberty enough in owning your own eyes, girl.” She picks at her sewing. “Your father had a wandering eye in his day, but that’s as far as it went, I think. And not uncommon in the clergy. Your mother had a wandering kirtle, which as far as I know isn’t all that uncommon in wives of the clergy, either. But that’s neither here nor there. Your father is concerned for Shell’s welfare. Shell is most certainly his father’s son, and that’s some consolation. I’ve said quite enough,” she adds primly, pins between her lips. She’s said more than enough, but Elphie doesn’t have the arithmetic skills to add up the nuances of grown-up behavior yet, so this remark goes over her head.
“It’s a great conspiracy of liars, isn’t it.” Elphie’s voice is small now, bereaved, a rare-enough effect for Nanny to notice.
“Every child begins to grow up by recognizing the Great Lie that’s been foisted upon them. It is a different lie in each instance, but no less potentially lethal. For me, it was that natural charm would put food on the table.” She sighs and primps her somewhat listless loops of hair. “Watch me work hard for my living, won’t you.”
“But Papa—never mentioning it once, all this time. Maybe he doesn’t know?”
“Don’t be intentionally dull, please. It’s a look you can’t carry off convincingly. Of course your father knows.” She pauses. “I don’t suppose you remember much about that day that—well, we had a run-in with a crocodrilos?”
“No,” says Elphie, lying a little, trying it out for herself.
“It’s always been my suspicion that your dear father was trying to proselytize three innocent Water Buffalo who didn’t care for it so much, and harried him to make a point until they released him safely back to camp. Of course that’s just guesswork.”
“That’s so long ago it’s like it never happened. I’m talking about the Bears, they’re right in our lives, but they’re—hiding in plain sight.”
“Bother them with your questions, then, if you want!” explodes Nanny. “Those Dwarf Bears, whatever they are. Your father doesn’t own you, Elphaba, though he loves you enough to lock you into his mind instead of freeing you into your own. I’ll look the other way. Don’t take Shell, though. Or Nessa. Come back and gossip to me about it but try not to whisper to the others, or your father will catch wind of it. He might insist we move back into the jungle, and I prefer it here. They have floors, have you noticed? Such agreeable things, floors. Make you steady. They make Nessa steadier, too; she is more confident. You won’t have noticed. You’re a thirteen-year-old girl swamped in your own stormy self. Now do you want me to go through the trunk of your mother’s items so you can barter with that clothier or not? Let’s keep our mind on our mission, shall we.”