Elphaba Grimmerie

'And this big thing-purple pages and silver ink, how grand.'

'I found it on the floor of this wardrobe. It seems to be a Grimmerie,' Elphie said, running her hand down a page only softly buckled with moisture. It made a pretty contrast, her hand on the vellum.

'What is that, besides beautiful?'

'As I understand it,' Elphie said, 'a sort of encyclopedia of things numinous. Magic; and of the spirit world; and of things seen and unseen; and of things once and future. I can only make out a line here or there.

Look how it scrambles itself as you watch.' She pointed to a paragraph of hand-lettered text. Sarima peered. Though her skill at reading was minimal, she gaped at what she saw. The letters floated and rearranged themselves on the page, as if enlivened. The page was changing its mind as they watched it. The letters clotted together in a big black snarl, like a mound of ants. Then Elphaba turned a page. 'Here, this section is a book of beasts.' There were elegant, attenuated drawings in blood red and gold leaf, on the front and rear elevations of (it seemed) an angel, with notes in a fine hand on the aerodynamic aspects of holiness. The wings flexed up and down and the angel smiled with a saucy sort of sanctity. 'And a recipe on this page. It says 'Of apples with black skin and white flesh: to fill the stomach with greed unto Death.'

'I remember this book now,' Sarima said. 'I do remember how it came to be here, I even put it up here myself; I had forgotten. Well, books are so easy to set aside, aren't they?'

- Wicked, Book 4