Chapter 2: Collaborating, Conspiring, and Consorting
My encounters with Azkadellia predictably increased after my return to Central City – the manner of which was not so expected. I had anticipated having chance meetings with her in hallways as I carried out my duties as military advisor. I never thought I would be advising her.
Such an arrangement came about like this...
We, the military council, had learned that the dissenters to the Gale Dynasty were far more organized than we had previously thought and that their leader was none other than Azkadellia's Vy-sor. When the Queen was informed, she called for an immediate session of the Defense Council and sent Lord Ambrose for her daughters and husband.
The generals and advisers were gathered when Ahamo arrived apologizing for the delay (he had to find a way to graciously beg off a meeting with the ambassador from the Eastern Guild, and he still managed to 'literally ruffle some feathers'). A few minutes later, the Princesses arrived – covered in grease. DG was wearing freshly stained coveralls and had a smudged face and mussed hair, while Azkadellia was wearing a stained apron over a pale blue skirt and cream-colored blouse, rubber gloves and boots.
To her favorite advisor, the Queen dryly commented, "The meeting wasn't that urgent, my friend. You could have informed them that they had time to change."
Before Ambrose or DG could offer a defense on his behalf, Azkadellia chuckled dryly, "Mother, don't be ridiculous. DG and I realize that these are busy people, and it would be inconsiderate to keep them waiting for something as frivolous as a pretty frock." And as she passed off her apron to a waiting servant, she said to her sister, "But, Deege, I'll have you know, it is much easier to run in five inch heels than it is these rubber galoshes."
I was able later to realize that this banter between the three women was an artfully calculated move on Az's part. In one lighthearted exchange, she took advantage of her sister's impulsiveness (for it was definitely she who led the charge), made it abundantly clear that she viewed this meeting of import, and asserted hers and DG's authority in the room – we all had to wait on them to be ready before we began.
Once they had divested themselves of their soiled outer-wear, Ahamo cleared his throat and queried his wife, "So what's this about, Flower?"
I was watching Azkadellia when the Queen relayed the information she had been given. The last glimmer of her mirth disappeared behind an impassive face, and when she was done bracing herself, she lifted her dark eyes to mine, either sensing I was watching her or, like I was doing with her, wishing to gauge my reaction to this news. In her eyes, I saw what her carefully constructed mask attempted to hide – despair.
"Gentlemen, ladies, I called this meeting to avoid any misunderstanding," the Queen declared with a hint of warning in her tone. "My daughter, Azkadellia, is to know whatever you know on this subject, and that you are to follow her lead."
Dumbfounded silence met this pronouncement. It was broken by General Fytre's deep rumbling voice objecting, "Am I to understand, your Majesty, that you are placing the security of the O.Z. into her hands?"
The Queen was about to reprimand him for his disrespect of her daughter, when Azkadellia interrupted with a rasping, "No, Mother. I – I can't." Ignoring everyone else's reactions, she focused on her parent, saying with fervent earnestness, "He was a clever, manipulative bastard to begin with, even before he studied under the Witch. For Ozma's sake! – he was the one who turned Lonot, of all people, against you!"
"How did he do that?" Amby, Chairman on the Committee of Internal Affairs, blurted. It was a fair question. General Lonot had been the son of the Queen's godfather, the best friend of her father, the former king. No one had seen that betrayal coming.
A pained expression passed over the eldest princess' features as she softly answered, "He had a gambling problem…Vy-sor put the pressure on his creditors to call in his debts…To keep his family and dependents from starving during the worst drought in our history, he sold his soul."
"So for the sake of a few hundred," (Lonot was a baron, and thus had quite a few people dependent upon him) "the whole of the O.Z. suffered," someone at the back of the room muttered.
"No," Azkadellia snapped harshly, and then more evenly, she said, "His actions, cowardly though they were, actually saved the Outer Zone. The Witch … was going to unleash Pestilence on the remaining rebellious regions…wiping out all but the most able-bodied of Mother's supporters. Although what fight could keep burning in their hearts, when their children…"
Her voice trailed off as she and the rest of us contemplated the devastation and horror that had been avoided only by the treachery of 'The Most Loyal of Friends.'
"My gods. And this Vy-sor, can he – will he do that as well?" Fytre queried, appalled and aghast as the rest of us at what Azkadellia had implied.
She shook her dark head emphatically. "No, it's strategically speaking irrational at this point. The country's too weak, and this would leave us vulnerable to other nations, which as he doesn't have any magical powers or a strong mage as an ally, he couldn't defend against them like the Witch could have done."
She fixed everyone in the room with a piercing gaze, homing in the gravity of her point, "No, his method is to find our weaknesses, our secrets, like he did Lonot's, and to use them against us, for his purposes." To her mother she added, "He's cunning, and no matter my insider knowledge into the workings of his mind and methods, I'm not enough to match him."
The Queen looked at her steadily and asked, "And who here is?"
Without hesitation, she tersely responded, "No one. Not one person here."
As mother and daughter had their staring match, I could hear the other daughter mutter something along the lines of 'This conversation is as bonkers as the ones with the Mystic Man.'
A sentiment with which I heartily, if silently, concurred.
Finally, Azkadellia's eyes closed and her body sagged in capitulation as she whispered wearily, more to herself than anyone else, "But it was foolish sentiment, not cleverness, that defeated the Witch."
Opening her eyes and straightening her shoulders, she said to her mother, "I then recommend Plan C be put into effect, as soon as possible."
The Queen nodded gravely, and then with a slight nod to Ambrose, she explained to us, as he began passing out folders, "Ladies, gentlemen, you are receiving a detailed outline of our plan to deal with this threat."
"Wait. You were expecting this?" Amby asked, irrationally sounding angry at something that I considered to be good news.
"Yes, we have prepared for the likelihood of Vy-sor's involvement since the discovery of Dr. Nikadok's laboratory," at her casual words, her eldest daughter shifted in her seat and studiously avoided anyone's eyes, in particular, mine. I was impressed with her foresight and dedication to preparation, for I assumed by her squirming that it was she who devised these 'plans.'
When we reached the part about deeper background checks into everyone in leadership positions, including those present, the room erupted into a cacophony of dissent. It was Azkadellia who silenced the rising protests.
"Lord Ronkatonkin, Countess Zingra, these interviews and investigations will be intrusive. It's true. But they're necessary, if we are going to be able to keep two steps ahead of Vy-sor. And believe me, we cannot afford to be anything but." At this, she sent her sister an inexplicably almost apologetic look.
I was later to learn that this was because DG had a dangerous but important role in gaining this two-step lead. She was, with the assistance of my father and Raw, to journey in secret to the Realm of the Unwanted to find Lady Cassandra. This was how desperate we were – we were seeking guidance from a fortune teller, an exalted one with a good track record, but a crystal-ball gazer, nevertheless.
In my father's absence, it was down to me and Ambrose to give Azkadellia the support she needed with the Council. It wasn't blind support, by any means. Often I would ask her to explain her reasoning behind her directions. These requests of mine just weren't laced with hostility like some of the others were.
It was a distinction that she appreciated. So much so that eventually she began to treat me as her liaison with the Defense Council. A role that none of them begrudged me, and I accepted because it was 'for the good of the Cause.' And that is how I found myself to be the former Sorceress' ally.
~*~OZ~*~
The power struggle with Vy-sor and his supporters was much like a long drawn out chess match. Every move was carefully considered before executed. Two annuals after we knew the name of our adversary, we were still fighting the good fight, although this one had more to do with politics than the last. Thus, even though there was less bloodshed, it seemed more difficult.
As frustrating as this shadow war was, those two annuals had far more good memories than bad. DG and my father came back from their secret expedition changed. The easiness of their camaraderie was gone, and in its place was a certain…awareness of each other. Those closest to them (DG's family, Raw, Ambrose, and myself) received great amusement from watching them dance awkwardly around each other.
And I fully blame DG's impulsiveness and lack of princess-like decorum for the next development in my relationship with Azkadellia.
The youngest princess was, as per usual, late to something or other and had charged blindly down a hallway once her sister and Lord Ambrose reminded her of it. I was discussing a security issue with my father (I think it had to do with Lady Omby), when she came barreling around the corner. She collided with my father, who automatically reached out to steady her. Their eyes locked. He held on longer than necessary. She didn't step back, and both of them tinged pink and began stuttering apologies when the spell broke.
From over my father's shoulders, my eyes locked with the amused ones of the eldest princess.
Not long after that, we had a meeting discussing something or other (probably our game plan concerning Lady Omby), and once business was taken care of, one of us brought up the entertaining couple (or not-couple, as it were).
"Mother thinks we should leave them be."
"We?"
"Ambrose, Master Raw, and I, and I suppose you too…" This answer ended as more of a question, as she fished for a new recruit to her matchmaking scheme.
Quirking an eyebrow, I answered in a roundabout way as I inquired incredulously, "The good counselor wants to actually brave the consequences of meddling in the love life of my prone-to-violence father? That's new."
"Raw convinced him that after his initial reaction, he'll be far more pleasant than he currently is – that is, if we succeed…" Her reply trailed off as it dawned on her what my response had left unsaid. "'New'?! You've talked this over with Ambrose before?"
Smirking, I simply replied, "In passing."
And so began our matchmaking conspiracy.
As Raw's duties with his people increased and Ambrose was an inconsistent partner in meddling at best (which had more to do with his status as mutual friend of both parties and his general transparency than his lack of dedication), the burden of our endeavor rested largely with us. So for many months, we arranged frequent private moments between the two. For example, if an elevator ride was in all four of our futures, inevitably Azkadellia or I would confess to leaving something behind and the other would volunteer to accompany them back. At social functions, we worked at keeping the youngest princess' suitors at bay, except for the rare one, which we let slip past us to inspire tiny sparks of jealousy. I cut in on quite a few of DG's dances, and Azkadellia helped foil the ploys of the husband-hunting vultures, when they realized what a 'prize' my father was.
Our meetings began to have a dual purpose: how to thwart Vy-sor's schemes and how to advance our own domestic ones. Those entailed coming up with ways to subtly remove the many obstacles that the stubborn fools insisted on erecting. One such obstacle was my father's doubts about their age and station differences. This was most adroitly handled by Azkadellia with her occasional in-passing compliments like "You two make such a great team" or "You complement each other so well; I've only seen two such different people work so well together... Oh? My parents, of course." I nearly choked when she said that last one, because as you watched my father's face, you could see his wheels turning and internalizing the thought that the Great Love-Seed Planter and Doubt-Weed Exterminator Azkadellia had sown there.
I had to help him deal with the ghost of my mother. A touchy subject for the both of us, and then we hardly had time for long in-depth conversations. But when we did manage the time, I attempted to steer the conversation to topics such as soul-mates and hypothetical if-the-shoe-was-on-the-other-foot-what-would-you-d o's. Those conversations varied in their success. Sometimes he opened up and shared his thoughts, going all paternal and advisory. Other times, he would stare off into the silence and turn his wedding ring around and around on his finger. Those times, while uncomfortable, were when I knew the plan was working, as they progressed from quiet grief to DG-and-I-Wyatt-Cain contemplation. When Az and I had our post-Talk powwows, she always made sure there was a glass of brandy on hand. I imagine if DG had been by matchmaking partner, hugs would have been the order of the day. Az' brandy and empathetic silence was more my cup of tea, which explains a lot. But more of that later.
And then there was their fear of losing their friendship. This was actually the hardest to deal with, because there really is no subtle way to broach the subject, and if either of us tried it head on, my father or DG would put up walls faster than a Munchkin could scream "Spy!" It was only when we and our co-conspirators pointed out that by avoiding the pink elephant that was doing calisthenics in a frilly tutu around them (Glitch's analogy), their friendship was deteriorating. No more shared knowing smiles. No teasing nicknames. No midnight snacks or Pooch pranks. Lots of awkward silences. Frequent dodging of the other by way of elaborate alternate paths and paperwork excuses. Really while this was going on, we did our own unnecessary meetings just to avoid being trapped with one of the moping pairs. But at last, they got over themselves and had 'The Talk.'
And the night after DG and my father decided to jump off the proverbial cliff together, we toasted our success with a glass or two of whiskey and half a bottle of champagne…and shared a congratulatory kiss.
It was brief and sweet and full of potential for so much more.
Blushing profusely, I stammered my apologies as I stood up to leave, "S-sorry, Princess. Er, the euphoria of the moment and no doubt all this very pricey rotgut and bubbly seems to have gotten the better of me."
"No doubt," she agreed, half-teasingly, half-something else, as she gracefully rose to show me out.
After that we were never alone together. We weren't as awkward as her sister and my father had been. We were just more formal than we had recently been, although not as formal as those first few encounters. How could we be? We were soon to become family.
Three months after DG's and her tin man's mutual confession of love, my father proposed. He often joked that he did it because he knew if he waited any longer DG would beat him to it. But I think it had more to do with the fact that he realized he had two options concerning the wedding. One, he could have waited for the moment when DG's patience was at its lowest and then proposed an elopement to avoid the hoopla of a royal wedding. Or two, he could get the ball rolling on the wedding planning so that the necessary long engagement would not seem so trying. As he faced the wrath of the Queen and Ahamo who had recently been restored to their daughter, he went with the latter and spared himself some pain.
It was this looming wedding that brought about the most momentous of changes in Azkadellia's and my relationship. Sort of. It was the palace's wedding fever, Vy-sor and his minion's schemes (or just plain scheming nobles), and the Prophecy.
Double Darkness the Gales escaped.
But Twilight cometh,
If not a Light produced,
For the Royal Slipper Tree.
AN: I do heartily apologize for the glossed over romance of DG and Cain. They are my OTP. But this is not their tale. And, as it is so obviously clear, Tin Man and its characters are not mine. They are just terribly fun to play with ; )
