A server brings out two glazed mugs of ale. The mugs are red like the building.
Ana takes a long drink from hers. I sniff mine first. There is the hoppy scent I expected, but beneath that I detect pumpkin, warm spices, vanilla, and honey.
“It’s called Pumpkinhead,” Ana says, dabbing at her mouth with the napkin. “Go on. Try it.”
Beside me, on his own chair, Toto peers up at me from beneath his messy fringe. Edward and I once got drunk on straight vodka in the Gilbert barn. We were barely sixteen and Edward’s parents had gone into the city to sell their latest harvest. Edward had found the vodka bottle forgotten in the cellar.
The first few drinks were unbearable. But then the alcohol started to warm my belly and the taste wasn’t as sharp. Toto barked at me and Edward when we decided to two-step together beneath the stars, as if he were annoyed by my lack of judgment.
I did suffer a hangover the next morning and quickly learned that if I didn’t want to hate myself, taking it slow was in my best interest.
I take a drink of this famous Glimming Hollow ale, fully expecting to hate it. I’m not much of a beer drinker. I prefer whisky sours if I have a choice. But my first sip has my eyes going round. “Okay. Wow!”
“Yes!” Ana says. “Delicious, isn’t it?”
“That’s really good.”
Toto huffs out a breath and then turns a circle on the chair, settling on a spot with his back to me.
Oh, he’s definitely judging me.
Our server brings out our meal. Steam rises from the dark stew and the rolls glisten with a sugar glaze.
My stomach growls. I don’t know what time it is or how long I’ve been in Oz, but my stomach is clearly telling me it’s been far too long.
I tear off a piece of bread and dip it in the stew and the moment I bite into it, a sense of calm washes through me. Food might be the universal comfort. There is nothing better than a warm meal in a strange place.
“Oh my god, this is good.” The potatoes are cooked to the perfect consistency and the roasted meat melts in my mouth. But it’s the broth that holds the most complex flavor. Salty and sweet and rich.
For the first time since I woke in Oz, I think:Everything is going to be okay.
Somehow, I manage to get through two full mugs of ale by the time I reach the bottom of my bowl of stew. Despite filling my belly with food, the alcohol hits me quickly and a rush of warmth fills my cheeks.
Distantly, I’m aware that I did not, in fact, pace myself. But the worry is miles away now.
Toto scowls at me but I’m ignoring him now because I finally feel good about this place.
“Did you tell her?” one of the council members shouts from the back corner.
Ana says, “Shhh! Not yet. I wanted the girl to have some food first!”
“Tell me what?”
Her mouth forms anOof excitement as she shimmies her chair over, closing the distance between us.
“The council is planning a celebration of our liberation tomorrow night in East Manor. That’s the name of the provost’s mansion. My house,” she adds with a wink. “Anyway, you would be the guest of honor and you would be treated as such and—”
“Why are you all so happy the witch is dead?” The ale is making my tongue loose, but in the moment, I don’t care. Ihave the answer the Enders gave me, but I’m curious to hear more from the people in charge.
“That’s a long story,” Ana answers.
“I have time.”
Ana motions the server over for another round of ale. Our cups are refilled.
“The Cardinal Witches were good, in the beginning.” Ana wraps her hand around the mug of ale and pauses, taking a breath. “After the Cardinal Gods abandoned us and the edge of Oz turned to desert, we were all desperate to understand.”
“Wait. When you say gods, do you mean… mythological figures that you worshipped? Like in church? Or…”
