Part 15 (1/2)

”Oh, you don't say! But how bizarre,” said Mister Mikko. ”I don't suppose you ever came across a Miss Quasimoda? She was a White Ape who taught drawing from life. Quite scandalous.”

”With you involved, I shouldn't wonder,” intoned Professor Lenx.

”I mean the drawing from life,” huffed Mister Mikko. ”The very idea!”

”No, no, I never did,” said Brrr hurriedly. ”I don't remember anyone's name from that time, except for a headmistress of one of the women's halls. Someone named...Madame...Madame Morrible.”

The silence could have been sc.r.a.ped with a putty knife.

”She was in cahoots with the Wizard,” said Professor Lenx shortly. ”That's what was said in the SCR, anyway.”

”Of course she was, she and that little tiktok agent of hers. Gramitic.”

”Grommetik.”

”All due respect. I am certain it was Gramatic. Gramitic Gramitic.”

”Your certainty has more bare spots than your scalp does.”

Mister Mikko bared his old teeth at his colleague and turned back to Brrr. ”Don't mind Professor Lenx; his mind is going. I don't suppose you ever came across a Doctor Dillamond? A Goat with expertise in several fields, history and science among them.”

”The history of science,” murmured Professor Lenx. ”The science of history.”

”I never did. And I'm sorry for mentioning Madame Morrible. I didn't meet her personally. She presided over teas for the visitors-community relations, that sort of thing, a town-and-gown tension-mitigation scheme. She lectured once or twice. I don't remember the topic.”

He did, though. The Animal Adverse laws, and the Wizard's mercy.

”Doctor Dillamond,” said Professor Lenx. ”A fine scholar.”

”And an early admirer of Elphaba Thropp's, as I recall,” added Mister Mikko.

Brrr took the chance that was presenting itself. ”I don't suppose you remember an occasion in which an infant Lion cub was brought into a laboratory in s.h.i.+z? For some kind of treatment?”

Professor Lenx and Mister Mikko exchanged glances.

”Much was done that is best not to remember,” said Mister Mikko softly.

”I think I might have been that Lion cub.”

A grave silence as, in the next room, a few coals fell from their little heap.

”We might all have been that Lion cub,” said the Boar.

The Ape got up to clear. The cups trembled in his hands. When he left the room, the Boar leaned forward. ”We did not approve,” he whispered. ”Please don't speak of this again. He gets very upset, the old fool.”

”It was my life, my life,” said Brrr.

”And this is ours, what's left of it. Spare us, and save yourself. You're young enough. Look: You have survived. Bless you, dear sir. Bless you, and shut up.”

As Mister Mikko cleared away, Brrr pushed Professor Lenx's cart into the front parlor, where it took up half the room. The Lion stirred up the fire while the Boar sunk into a reverie about Madame Morrible and the last golden years of an integrated university life. When Brrr settled in a ratty old upholstered chair ( just covered with silvery Ape hairs), he didn't speak but thought about Animals in exile and the need for a modern workforce in the factories.

There was an opportunity here. Staring him in the face. Rehabilitation of a sort, if he worked it right. If he had the mettle to do it.

During afters, Brrr made his proposal over a bitterroot sherry. He offered his services as a go-between. He would return to s.h.i.+z and present himself to the appropriate authorities as Professor Lenx's agent. He would ask 15 percent of any funds he was able to locate and arrange to have released. Everything notarized and formalized.

”I know you're young,” said Mister Mikko. ”Well, youngish. But have you really the nerve to return to Loyal Oz?”

”I am a Namory,” he reminded them. ”I once got a medal from the Wizard of Oz himself. And for a time I counted the Scarecrow, who sits upon the Throne, a personal friend.”

”We move in lofty circles, yet we wear such a n.o.bly frayed jacket,” said the Boar, as gentle as he was wry.

Brrr pressed his case. ”I ought at least to be able to get an audience with him, if the banks give me a hard time.”

Professor Lenx couldn't control his trembling as Mister Mikko, with a more capable hand, labored over a contract engaging Brrr as a financial agent.

”a.s.suming on the Loyal Oz side of the border that the s.h.i.+z bank honors its terms, will the Eminent Thropp here in Munchkinland allow the funds transfer?” asked Brrr. ”I don't know much about monetary policy. And who is the current Eminent Thropp now, anyway?”

”With the deaths of both Elphaba and Nessarose, the t.i.tle of Eminent Thropp ought to have reverted to Sh.e.l.l,” said Mister Mikko. ”I mean, given the absence of the issue of the women of the line. For, like the descent of Ozmas, the Eminences.h.i.+ps descend with a matrilineal bias. But Sh.e.l.l is said to be a playboy in Emerald City gambling parlors. Also a regular visitor to girlie arcades. He's shown no inclination to give up the high life and waltz back here to govern a rogue state. One suspects his political sympathies, if he's ever developed any, would have conformed with the Wizard's, anyway.”

”Who else has emerged?” said Brrr. ”I mean, to pick up the county where Nessarose left it when she died?”

”Bit of a local scrabble,” said Mister Mikko, ”but if we had the money you might bring us, we'd put it on the Eminent Pastor in Old Pastoria. Her name is Mumbly.”

”Her name is Mammly.”

”Her name is immaterial. Mumbly, Mommy, will will you let me finish, old darling? She keeps to herself. She's distantly related to Pastorius, who was the last Ozma Regent before the Wizard's takeover. She probably has the most legitimacy to stand up to the Emerald City in case of an attempt at reannexation, though I don't know if she would. I don't think she has the conviction of exceptionalism that Nessarose possessed.” you let me finish, old darling? She keeps to herself. She's distantly related to Pastorius, who was the last Ozma Regent before the Wizard's takeover. She probably has the most legitimacy to stand up to the Emerald City in case of an attempt at reannexation, though I don't know if she would. I don't think she has the conviction of exceptionalism that Nessarose possessed.”

”We use the same currency, in any event,” added the Boar, ”so how could there be a prohibition against our reclaiming our retirement funds?”

Brrr left them to their nattering and sunk into a haze of antic.i.p.ation. Could this work? A legitimate job serving two populations at once? If he helped to resolve the labor crisis, surely that would confer upon him a legitimacy that had hitherto eluded him in human society?

It had been several years since he'd left the Emerald City. He could return in triumph, circling north to s.h.i.+z first, of course, to begin the negotiations.

He fell asleep in front of the fire and dreamed of grat.i.tude.

IN THE MORNING, Brrr managed to cadge from the two old bachelors an advance on future earnings-a sack of fifteen mettanite florins. With mounting hopes he made his way back overland to s.h.i.+z. Back from the farthest habitable corner of Munchkinland, back to life. Scheming all the while. He'd spend a third of the money on a new wardrobe, first; then secure a pied-a-terre in a respectable neighborhood. Someplace better than Ampleton Quarters: that was important. People would notice. Brrr managed to cadge from the two old bachelors an advance on future earnings-a sack of fifteen mettanite florins. With mounting hopes he made his way back overland to s.h.i.+z. Back from the farthest habitable corner of Munchkinland, back to life. Scheming all the while. He'd spend a third of the money on a new wardrobe, first; then secure a pied-a-terre in a respectable neighborhood. Someplace better than Ampleton Quarters: that was important. People would notice.

For a week, no more, he would bring himself out to cafes and concerts. He'd condescend to recognize none of his former a.s.sociates. It would be enough to be seen. Brrr's back Brrr's back. Brrr's back in town Brrr's back in town. Delicious. He'd returned: a Lion unafraid of human society. Let it be said of him that he was the first of the Animals to emerge from hiding. He's the first, you know. Who'd have thought it of him? He's the first, you know. Who'd have thought it of him?

Let it be said that he held his head high.

His mane is a ruff of bronze. Adversity has strengthened him! Let that be said, too. Let that be said, too.

His knees were shaking, though, behind the panels of his red velvet greatcoat-cut intentionally long to hide just such a syndrome-when he got up the nerve, at last, to present himself to the governor general of the banking house identified by Professor Lenx.

He gave his name as Sir Brrr, Namory of the Palace of the Throne of Oz. He didn't specify his rank nor identify his district, which proved a smart move. The governor general apparently thought it impolite to enquire. (An Animal Namory was an aberration in and of itself, so far, and perhaps, Brrr speculated, the GG of the bank didn't care to be seen ignorant of the conventions, however newly established.) Somewhat shocked by Sir Brrr's request, the banking officials couldn't quickly enough find out a reason to reject his pet.i.tion. In the end it was a matter of deciding what fee to apply against the withdrawal sum for the backbreaking work of having kept Professor Lenx's deposit secure all these long years, while said absentminded Professor had gone lollygagging about without so much as a postcard over the holidays.