Kansas gasps. “Do you know him?”
“Come!” The provost hooks her arm around Kansas’s shoulders. Remy leads the way toward their inn.
“Wait,” Kansas says.
“Shall we?” I say to the doctor.
His mouth snaps shut. He nods, stumbles back. “Of course… Rook, was it?”
“Yes. Unless you know me by some other name?”
“Does he know Rook?” I can hear Kansas asking as she’s ushered down the cobblestone street. “He doesn’t have any memories. I found him like that, beaten and bloody, and tied to a pole.”
“Oh, quite dreadful,” the provost says. Then, “If he does, they’ll sort it out, I’m sure.”
To Dr. Fennel, I say, “Well?”
“Apologies, sir. I believe I was mistaken.”
“A pity.”
He hurries off. “My office is this way. I’ll have you patched up in no time.”
“Lead the way,” I say. “And I will follow.”
NINETEEN
Dorothy
Remy, with their long legs and slight build, moves through the city with ease and urgency. I have to jog to keep up. The Council of the East End follows behind, chattering amongst themselves.
We pass several more shop fronts with glowing windows and intricate displays of handcrafted goods. Colorful signs hang over stoops with names painted on them.WITCH’S TAVERNandTHE SHAMBLESandLONELY CAPES.
There is nothing like this in Kansas. This place feels like a storybook.
The road curves to the right like the belly of a snake, and for a brief moment, I lose sight of Remy.
When I come around the bend, the street opens to a pie wedge of a park with a giant bronze statue mounted in the center. It’s taller than the three-story buildings that surround us.
The statue is of a man in a long coat painted a shade of bluish green. The coat is billowing out from his hips as if caught in an eternal breeze. His hair is a little mussed too. His left arm is cocked back and he’s holding a wand not unlike that of the Witch of the East.
Everything about his body language saysfight.
The council comes to a stop behind me. Toto squirms in my grip, growling at the statue.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“That is the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz,” Ana says. The way she says it, it has the same inflection asmythorgod. I don’t know what a provost is, but I’m guessing the role is important, someone with power. But Ana acts like the wizard is so far up the hierarchy that she can barely fathom the top.
She cranes her neck and smiles wistfully at the statue. As she does, a cascade of large, thick curls falls from her shoulders to the middle of her back. She closes her eyes and breathes in through her nose.
Unsure of the customs of this land, I close my eyes too and inhale.
There are the scents you’d expect in a city this size: roasting meat, baked goods; but beneath that is something less definable, something sweet and spicy, like cinnamon and cloves and cardamom.
“What is that?” I ask and open my eyes. “That smell?”
I expect Ana to tell me the name of some specialty baked good, but she doesn’t. Instead, she straightens and turns to me. Her honey-brown eyes brighten, reflecting the golden light of the lampposts. “It’s magic.”
