On the Fast Train to Prophecy and Peril

by WhiteRabbit626

Sequel to "Pitstop at the Hilltop Cafe." There's no such thing as living happily ever after for this Princess and her Tin Man, and just when the pair think they can relax, old enemies rear their heads. Wyatt and DG find that their roles in the OZ's revival will change yet again, as they get drawn into a search for magical artifacts and dangerous foes. (Hint of X with Warehouse 13)

4. Chapter 4

Author's Note

Sorry it took so long... I got called back to the real world, and ooh boy! I miss my dark little bunny hole! Hopefully, you're enjoying this so far... I can't help but notice that I don't have too much viewership on this little tale so far. If you like it, drop me a note! -WR

Chapter Four

After spending the morning in what Wyatt had privately termed "royal hell," where he had spent more time waving and smiling than he could handle, he was relieved to finally be released from his torture. The entire royal family had been standing on the grand balcony waving at a sea of exuberant faces for what seemed an eternity. Wyatt's arm felt like it would fall off, and his face muscles screamed from the excessive smiling he had been doing. When they finally reentered the palace and the doors shut behind them, Wyatt and the Consort both groaned, collapsing into armchairs flanking the fireplace directly across from the threshold. DG and her mother smirked at each other as they walked towards their spouses, arm in arm, both amused and delighted at the bond that had formed between the men – Wyatt and his father-in-law had become like two peas in a pod, and frequently bonded over their shared distaste for the grandeur of royal life.

The Queen kissed her daughter's crown and disengaged from her arm, gliding over to her husband's side and asking suggestively as she drew near, "Darling, I'm going to take a few moments to myself before we meet the parade. Would you care to join me?"

The Consort grinned up at his wife and shrugged nonchalantly, "Of course my dear," then turning to Wyatt, he sighed, "duty calls. See you boys later?"

Wyatt's eyebrow raised slightly, and he cleared his throat before replying, "Yes sir, of course. This afternoon."

The Consort nodded conspiratorially and then rose to take his wife's hand. As they moved to exit, DG grinned and donned Wyatt's blue dress hat before depositing herself in Wyatt's lap. Wyatt grinned at her fondly, enjoying the way his hat sat over her pined curls and fell at a crooked angle. DG kicked her feet like a little girl, and she put her arms around his neck, placing a light kiss on his cheek before looking him in the eyes.

"Wyatt," She began with a lilt, "would you like to go play hooky with me for a little while?"

Wyatt sighed heavily and rubbed DG's back, allowing a look of disappointment to appear around the corners of his mouth. "I can't Deeg. I've got to pack up my old office before the new Major General arrives later today, and I've got an important meeting with your father and Ambrose to prepare for."

DG pouted, whining, "Oh come on, just for a little while?"

Wyatt kissed her still pouting lips slowly, suckling her bottom lip until she relented. Her mouth opened to his, and she melted into him as he explored her. They were interrupted in short order by a cough behind them, and they separated to look at their company. Azkadellia and Ambrose had been conspiring in the corner before, but now Azkadellia was standing with her arms crossed. She had a wicked smirk on her face, and her eyebrow was raised at her brother and sister.

"Oh, hi Az, sorry." DG smiled before standing up from Wyatt's lap. She smoothed out the creases in her navy-blue dress that flared out at her knees in a loose mermaid shape, feeling a blush creep up on her cheeks, and she removed Wyatt's hat from her head and tossed it back to him with a sheepish grin.

Azkadellia sighed and replied, "It's okay little sister, but you might save the rest of that for later. Don't want to give the staff a show."

Wyatt cleared his throat and stood, and before DG could return Azkadellia's teasing, Wyatt turned her around and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Princess," Wyatt whispered, "I've got to meet with your sister and Glitch before I do anything else today. Can I take a raincheck for maybe tonight?"

DG huffed, "Why can't I be here for this meeting?"

"Dorothy," Wyatt pleaded, "the less you or anyone else knows, the safer you will be. Please. I will fill you in on everything I can later. I promise."

DG folded her arms in front of her chest and huffed again, giving Wyatt a fuming glare. "Fine Tin Man, but this isn't over yet. Don't forget your promise."

When she started to storm out past Wyatt, he grasped her upper arm gently and whispered in her ear, "Oh, I won't forget my promise Mrs. Cain, and don't you forget yours. I'll see you in our bed tonight."

DG blushed violently and looked up into her husband's eyes, and the heat in his stare made her heart thump wildly and the breath catch in her throat. A seductive smile spread on his face automatically when he spied her pupils dilating in response to the stimulus he'd provided, and Wyatt leaned down and planted one final kiss on his wife's lips, caressing her cheek with his free hand.

DG sighed quietly against him and muttered, "You win." This caused Wyatt's soft smile to widen, at which point he released her, after which DG waved at her sister and Glitch before glaring at Wyatt suggestively as she walked out of the door.

"She won't quit you know," Azkadellia sighed. Wyatt whirled around slowly, blowing out a puff of air and scratching his head as he offered his sister a harried expression. Azkadellia was already settling herself onto the couch near the fire and leaning back on the cushions while she shrugged in response. As she shut her eyes to rub the headache away from her temples, she smiled ruefully and huffed, "Us Gale women are a stubborn bunch."

Ambrose sat down next to Azkadellia and chuckled as he glanced over at her, "You ain't kidding Dee."

Azkadellia opened her eyes to smirk at Glitch and as the blush crept up her face, she swatted his leg playfully. Wyatt watched this scene unfold with mild interest, and he leaned on the armchair watching them banter back and forth. He then cleared his throat and chuckled, "Should I leave you two alone? You keep that up and I might still go chase DG down."

Wyatt didn't linger to see their response, but grinned as he moved to the door, quietly beckoning Jeb inside and shutting the door carefully behind him. After he engaged the lock, he turned back to everyone assembled, and sat down in the armchair he had previously been leaning on. "Look, I asked you all to hang around for an important reason," Wyatt began, and after taking a deep breath, he continued, "As you all know, there have been rumors about Vizor being seen in the Realm of the Unwanted, and I intend to find out if they're true."

Ambrose opened his mouth to speak excitedly, but was stopped by Wyatt, who held up his hand, "Wait Glitch. I'll let you talk my ear off in a second. First, I need you all to understand how important it is that everything said here stays in this room. Do not, under any circumstances, fill DG's head up with a bunch of worry, understand?"

"Wyatt," Azkadellia sighed, "no one knows better than we all do how dangerous DG's adventures can get, and we all want to make sure that she doesn't get some wild hair now that she is so vulnerable. You have our word." She looked hard at Jeb and Glitch, and they all nodded silently. Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief and sat back, letting that relief and a good deal of gratitude for Azkadellia wash over him like a warm blanket.

Azkadellia, while comforting her sisterly attentions, had hit on one of Wyatt's most closely guarded fears like the precision instrument she truly was. Vizor appearing when he did had been making him increasingly agitated over the past cycle, and he was reluctant to even voice his worry, afraid that his fears might come true. Azkadellia was, by far, the more vulnerable of the two sisters, having officially been named her mother's heir apparent. Marriage and pregnancy did much to aide in cementing her position, but until her own progeny was born, she was still at risk from those who would want to dethrone her or any other member of the Gale family. The same was true of DG, being the Princess Royale in waiting. Unlike her sister, however, DG only increased her risk by refusing to stay put and having a vocal distain for royal life. Although Wyatt happened to share her dislike of the lifestyle, he was increasingly becoming more of an advocate for it, at least until both princesses were born, as the security within the confines of the palace was second to none. The pragmatic turn of his internal musings had done much to increase his anxiety, where it hadn't before. Now, these people were his family, where they had only been charges before, and he found that he had difficulty maintaining objectivity. His anxiety had reached such a pitch in the last cycle that he and DG had barely left Finaqua. Fortunately, that hadn't been much of an issue given the nature of their vacation, but now that they were back in the city, he'd been almost as cantankerous as he had been while chasing DG through the OZ to find the emerald. Most hardly noticed a change in the Tin Man's demeanor, but to those that knew him, the shift in the cautious man's mood, while subtle, was like a tidal wave in deep water. Although hardly breaking the surface of his usual façade, those close by could feel the change, and it was as a warning signal, and they all readied themselves for what might come next. None were more visibly concerned than those in that room, and Wyatt surrounding himself in their company was almost as much of a relief as Azkadellia's reassurances, and he closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself before speaking again.

Jeb waited patiently while Wyatt seemed in deep thought, finally leaning over his father and gently prodding, "so are you going to tell us why we're all here? I mean, Ambrose and I will be at the meeting later, right?"

Wyatt glanced up at his son, who was now moving to sit on the couch opposite Wyatt with Azkadellia and Glitch. His eyes shifted to Azkadellia and Ambrose, where he noted their equally expectant faces, and he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees while he spoke darkly, "I've got a real bad feeling about this Vizor business. I feel like there's something more going on, and I don't like that I can't see around the corner on it. I'm going to need help if I'm going to find him." Wyatt rubbed his face in frustration. He hated asking for help or seeming the slightest bit vulnerable himself, but it couldn't be avoided anymore. "The truth is that being the Seeker isn't going to be easy, and it will be even more difficult given that I'm so visible already. I may need some kind of decoy from time to time so I can make an official appearance. Maybe keep our enemies off my back, and I wanted to use you guys as a sounding board before our meeting with Ahamo."

Wyatt looked into Jeb's eyes, and Jeb nodded silently. He understood now, and he accepted the answer without argument. Ambrose, meanwhile, cleared his throat and spoke pensively, "You know, I could always rig up a TDESPHTL for you. I could hide the little doohickey somewhere near DG and Azkadellia for formal appearances, and no one would ever know that you weren't really here."

"Unless someone walked in front of the image," Azkadellia corrected Ambrose.

Ambrose snapped his mouth shut and nodded in agreement. Before he could speak again, Wyatt interjected, "That's a good idea Glitch. How long would it take you to get it done?"

Ambrose shrugged casually and glanced up at the ceiling as he ran the calculations through his skull, "Oh, I don't know. If I could get a few quick recordings of you, I could have it put together and ready for use in no time at all. I think I have a few spares lying around the workshop."

"Good," Wyatt responded shortly, and then continued, "Now that that's settled, Jeb and I are going to need to know everything you can both tell us about Vizor. Who he is, all of his known associates, hideouts, and weapons he'll employ against me or Jeb to escape."

Ambrose scoffed, "so you don't want much, do you?"

Azkadellia placed a hand over Ambrose's to quiet him as she replied, "Who he was before the Sorceress dug him up was a disgraced mage. He had been imprisoned by the Tin Men for testing potions on people, and by the time the Sorceress found him, he was in the Realm of the Unwanted practicing again." The Princess sighed and rose from her seat, striding over to the fireplace only to lean on the mantle as she gritted her teeth, "As far as associates, he was a loaner. He only seemed to take the time to become friendly with his superiors, so he has probably found someone new to latch on to if he has been seen." Wyatt and Jeb frowned at each other. This was not good news, as it only confirmed Wyatt's fear that something larger was lurking behind him. Azkadellia turned to face Wyatt and looked seriously into his eyes, "Wyatt, the Sorceress never knew where Vizor performed his experiments. Zero was the one who recruited him."

Wyatt's calm exterior melted away and his eyes flared, turning from crystal to cool steel. His teeth clenched and he shot up from his chair, and he paced behind it in an agitated manner; his hands balled into tight fists. Finally, Wyatt shook his shoulders out and took a deep breath. Without looking up to meet his family's eyes, he growled, "I'm not going to deal with Zero if I don't have to. Just tell me about his defenses."

Ambrose smiled thoughtfully and replied, "Well, he's a bit of a coward, so any defense he has will be sneaky. You can expect traps and a whole lot of interesting drugs, especially when he's in his own element."

Azkadellia sat back down next to Glitch and huffed, "You're going to have to draw him out Wyatt. Meeting him on his turf is going to be too dangerous, even for you. He might have been dangerous before becoming the witch's chief advisor, but he certainly is now if he learned half as much as I did from that horrible creature."

Wyatt nodded grimly, she's right, he thought. He then glanced down at his watch. The parade was getting close to starting by now, and he still had some packing to do before he met with the Consort. So, while replacing his pocket watch back in his pocket, he grimaced at his companions in turn and spoke firmly, "Well, I guess that's going to have to do for now. I've got to get a few things done before we all make our next appearance at the parade's finish line. I'll see you all later."

They all nodded to Wyatt and muttered solemn goodbyes as he turned to leave the room. After a few turns and a trip down two sets of stairs, Wyatt entered what had been his office for the past two annuals. For what felt like the millionth time, he collapsed into the chair behind his desk and shut his eyes. Wyatt turned Azkadellia's comments over in his mind. He had already gleaned the type of man Vizor was, having met many of his type while still a Tin Man. He was a shifty, weak man on his own, and surrounded himself with more powerful people to strengthen his own position. He didn't have the capital to remain so well hidden for two annuals, even in the Realm of the Unwanted, so whoever was pulling the man's strings was most likely wealthy and dangerous. This left Wyatt feeling exposed, as if someone was just watching him and Dorothy, and waiting.

Wyatt thought, Vizor's been spotted several times over the last past cycle, and he's starting to make mistakes.

"He's getting sloppy," Wyatt muttered thoughtfully as he stared up at the ceiling, "but why? Who's lighting a fire under him? What are they after?"

Wyatt growled in frustration. He was getting caught in a feedback loop, and he knew that sitting around brooding wasn't going to help. He needed to get out on the beat, he needed to be a cop again, and find the people who had the answers to his questions. Being hamstrung by his official position made doing these things generally impossible, and in his uneasiness, he couldn't seem to rest his nerves, so he rose from his desk and got back to clearing it with the box sitting on the floor at his feet. He had only just cleared off the desk when the only remaining article before him, the telephone, rang shrilly.

Wyatt wanted to ignore it, but the ring bored into his skull so he picked up the receiver and sighed, "Yes?"

A meek, feminine voice on the other end squeaked, "Your Highness, the Commissioner is on the line for you. Should I put him through?"

Wyatt grinned and leaned back before replying, "Yes, please!"

The voice on the other end became slightly less nervous, and the woman replied, "hold please sir, have a pleasant Eclipse Day!"

After a series of clicks, Wyatt could hear the annoyed grumbling of his old partner on the other end, "I hate these damn switchboards. Have to jump through so many hoops just to talk that old pain in the ass."

Wyatt silently chuckled, eavesdropping on his friend's complaints that seemed to be directed at his truly. Wyatt decided speak up finally and replied, "Well, it's better than the crap you used to put me through on all of those late night stakeouts."

"Wyatt, I mean Your Highness, I didn't know she had already put me through! How's it going man?" The Commissioner laughed.

Wyatt shrugged, "I probably shouldn't complain. It's good. Truly. How about you Manzetti, how's being the man in charge?"

Manzetti snorted and replied, "Same old shit, different pay grade." Manzetti paused, and the sarcastic manner dropped away, "About that, we had an interesting visitor to the hall just a little while ago, seemed real keen on having us play messenger."

Wyatt sat up, interested. "Oh, who was it?"

Manzetti spoke in a more serious tone now, and stated quietly, "An Ozmanian Priestess."

Wyatt whistled, "I thought they'd all been wiped out. Who was the message for?"

Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound from the tube in the wall just behind Wyatt's head, and he swung around to open the neumotube and extract the recently arrived envelope. As he examined the flowing script on the outside, Manzetti replied in a matter- of- fact tone, "You actually. This seemed like a good time to try out the secure line between the palace and the hall. Seemed that she wanted this message to get to you quick."

Wyatt still hadn't opened the envelope, but rather tapped it on the edge of the desk as he spoke. "Did anyone get a look at her?"

Manzetti sighed, "Well, she was the real deal if that's what you're asking. Floated on air almost. Had just about everyone in a daze. No one seems to remember a whole lot a lot about her."

Wyatt huffed. This was par for the course, and he knew it, but he was curious. "What about the security footage?"

"Thought you'd never ask. I was startin' to think you'd lost your touch," Manzetti spoke brightly, "Couldn't get a face, she kept her hood up, but her hair was dark, and she was small like a kid."

Wyatt grunted. Nothing Manzetti had told him was anything new. Many of the Temple clergy fit this description, with the exception of hair color. He sighed quietly, but Manzetti had heard him and continued apologetically, "Sorry buddy, I've told you everything I can."

Wyatt tapped the envelope on his forehead and winced, "It's okay Paul, tell your wife I said hi."

"Will do Cain. See you around!"

"Be seeing you old friend," Wyatt said goodbye to Manzetti and dropped the receiver unceremoniously back onto its cradle.

Wyatt examined the envelope again. The script on the front of the envelope was flowing as if made of water, and it was addressed simply to "Sir Wyatt Ulysses Cain." Wyatt scowled at the use of his middle name. He had chosen to omit his middle name in most of his official addresses, and the only person who had ever used it with any frequency was his grandmother. Even she had only employed it as a manner of getting Wyatt's attention when he was a young boy, and he wondered if the penman was making a similar gesture. Well, if she wanted my attention, she's got it now, doesn't she, he pondered internally. As he mused on this small item, he raised the envelope to his nose and took a deep breath. It smelled heavily of lavender and incense, and made Wyatt feel somewhat lightheaded. Wyatt frowned at the envelope, hoping that more clues would emerge, but none would without him opening the paper, and he removed the pocketknife from his pocket and flipped it open, sliding the blade through the paper swiftly. Inside the envelope was a simple slip of paper, on which a few hastily scratched notes appeared. It read simply:

The beginning of your journey would be best started at DeMilo's Spiritual Emporium in the heart of the Spiritual District, at the juncture of Glinda and Lurline Avenue. Mr. DeMilo will point you in the direction of the answers you seek. You must hurry if you want to avoid attention of well-wishers on the streets of the spiritual district, however.

Wyatt pulled out his watch to look at the time. The parade was in full swing now, and it wouldn't even be an hour before it reached the square in front of the palace. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to sneak out and get back before the streets filled back up with citizenry. Wyatt rose quickly from his chair and moved to the bedroom to change his clothes. He still had a few shirts and a pair of khakis hiding in the wardrobe, he remembered, and he didn't want to draw any attention to himself by strolling into DeMilo's dressed like a stuffed shirt. Wyatt donned his favorite fedora and trench coat and then, while stuffing the note in his pocket, he slipped out of the room. Realizing that the square would still be teaming with people, Wyatt headed for the servants' tunnels, which he knew he could access from the lower storerooms. As many of the staff were out with the revelers, Cain didn't meet many people as he descended the wide stone steps, and those that he did meet readily accepted him as another common sight along their path. Many were accustomed to two annuals of Wyatt's patrols through the less trafficked parts of the palace, so they disregarded his appearance and went about their own tasks, with not much more than a nod of acknowledgement to the General as they passed. As he continued down into the storerooms, the air became still and cool. He walked onward in the dim light, listening to his shoes echo on the stones, until finally, at the back of a room filled from floor to ceiling with shelves full of dry goods, he paused at an iron gate that hung open. Wyatt was not troubled by this, as this was not the end that needed to be guarded, and he stepped quietly through. Just beyond the gate lay a wide tunnel that led from the palace to buildings on the outskirts of the square. These buildings were home to many of the servants and guards, and provided them with a clear, secure path to the palace on a daily basis. On occasion, he'd caught DG trying to slither out of the palace through this passage, but she'd found him on the other end most times, and in short order, he'd placed guards on the barracks exit in the event that he was otherwise occupied for her next sojourn. Eventually, she'd given up trying to access the city by this route, and now, hardly ever bothered since she had been guaranteed an end in sight. Wyatt grimaced slightly with this thought, wondering if he might double the guard once more before handing command over to his replacement. While Wyatt considered this, he exited the tunnel and climbed the stairs, where he was greeted by two of his own men posted at the guard booth sitting opposite the door from the stairwell.

"General, Sir! We didn't expect you today, sir!" One man exclaimed as he jumped up from his chair. His cohort had also jumped up at the sight of Cain and was saluting Wyatt stiffly.

Wyatt smirked. Greenhorns. "At ease gentlemen." Wyatt returned calmly, "Just out for a walk. Be back in less than an hour."

His men relaxed and eased back into their chairs. "Yes sir," the first replied, "Have a nice walk, sir."

Wyatt shook his head as he walked past. They get younger all the time, he grumbled internally. Then, he shook his head for an entirely different reason – his observation had reminded him very suddenly of his age – the feeling of obsolescence overtook him, and he was all at once grateful to be stepping away from his role as the head of royal security. In just another few days, Wyatt would be presiding over the Change of Command Ceremony, where he would be handing the reigns over to the new Captain of the Guard. It was apparently a conflict for the Captain of the Royal Guard to be one of the royals in need of guarding, so it had been suggested to Wyatt that he relinquish his control so that he could move on to his new tasks. Wyatt sighed. It was the proper thing, but he still didn't like it, even as his feelings of usefulness wavered in that brief moment. Wyatt ignored this, and continued to move through the layers of security he had put in place himself, feeling satisfied that even on a day like today; one would have to pass through three sets of guards before even leaving the building. Once outside the building, he waved to the gate detail as they let him through.

"I'll be back in just a few Corporal," Wyatt commanded as he stepped through the gate, returning the guards' salute as he went.

The guards nodded silently, and shut the gate behind Wyatt, leaving him standing on the other side, surveying the street beyond with a wary eye. The street before him was wide and vacant of any pedestrians, and by all outward appearances, clean and unthreatening. The cobblestones of this older section of the city seemed to gleam in the morning light, and the deep hue of their mineral composition made them appear almost as if made of precious jade. Apart from this one relatively remarkable feature, the street was otherwise unadorned, and the buildings here were almost Spartan in appearance by design. Even outside the gates of the royal palace, the buildings closest by still operated as part of the wider governing body, and the occupants of said buildings spent more time within the palace than inside the dull stone edifices just outside. These were meant as a buffer to the royal palace and were uninspired so as to limit wider interest in such a sensitive region of the security network. Even so, Wyatt could not help the foreboding that still loomed in the back of his mind. He might as well have been preparing to traverse a dangerous ravine replete with armed Longcoats, as opposed to the wide avenue before him, and he huffed at himself for his succinct, if not annoying, instincts.

Wyatt blinked at the suns slowly marching upward, internally gauging how much time he was allowed for this unusual errand. The suns were not directly overhead yet, meaning that Wyatt had at least two hours before lunch, and much less before the parade crossed the Royal Square to meet the Queen and her family. Wyatt grimaced when he thought of DG, knowing that she would be a force to be reckoned with if he wasn't present to greet the parade with her, but it couldn't be helped. Wyatt would just have to move fast and hope that he could get back in time. Wyatt could hear the drums booming in the distance, and its steady, percussive force was like a boon to the driven man and urged him forward with every strike. Wyatt turned to the right and began to walk in quick strides, mentally calculating all the while his path forward. The Spiritual District was not far, only a few blocks, and Wyatt hoped he could get there before the parade got much closer. Once it did, this space would be just a block from the frenzy, and it would not do for him to get caught in it.

Fortunately, Wyatt did not meet anyone on his speed walk through the streets, and he quickly found himself standing across Lurline Avenue from DeMilo's Spiritual Emporium. Wyatt leaned on the side of the building, watching the doorway from the alley he was shadowed in. No one came in or out in the few moments he stood there, nor did anyone move about the streets. From here, the sound of the parade was further away, and he could barely hear it, except for the occasional trill of a whistle or the low boom of a drum.

Wyatt shook his head, Why is it always this guy? Every time I find myself at a roadblock, he seems to show up. "Like a bad penny," Wyatt muttered out loud in a low growl.

Wyatt extricated himself from his perch and crossed the street quickly and entered the shop without any further delay. The smell of lavender incense filled Wyatt's nostrils as he shut the door, reminiscent of the note he had received from the priestess, but here it was much stronger, and made Wyatt step back as he regained his balance. He was still struggling to regain his equilibrium when DeMilo burst out of the back of the shop with his arms raised in welcome, and he grimaced in overt irritation.

"Welcome, welcome to DeMilo's Spiritual Emporium, where talismans and guidance are available for a reasonable price!" DeMilo called out, not yet realizing who had entered, as Wyatt's back was still facing him. When Wyatt turned with a scowl, DeMilo dropped his arms and scoffed, "Wyatt freakin' Cain, never thought you'd darken my door again. Whadaya want?"

"Gee DeMilo, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Wyatt asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

DeMilo pointed a finger at Wyatt in accusation and replied, "You stole my wagon, Your Highness. Some friend." DeMilo folded his arms and looked sideways at Wyatt, expecting an apology.

Wyatt sighed, squirming somewhat at DeMilo's implication, and he met the man's eyes momentarily before he answered regretfully, "You're right, I'm sorry." Wyatt looked around, tipping his hat up so he could appear impressed with the surroundings, "Movin' up in the world, eh DeMilo? How's business?"

DeMilo dropped his hands and grinned. With a shrug, he replied, "It's good man, no more sleaze for me. I run a legit game now."

Wyatt nodded to the sign over the doorway and smirked, "Is that so? Since when are you a mystic?"

DeMilo waved off the sign and offered a crooked smile, "Yeah well, you don't have to be a mystic to read people, you know that. Mostly I just tell people stuff they already know. It's harmless, a'ight?"

Wyatt nodded with an approving smile. In truth, he liked DeMilo, but he wouldn't dare tell him that. Despite this, he couldn't help noticing DeMilo's hands snaking into his pockets, and his feet shifting nervously. He was certain the man was hiding something and judging by his wives watching intently from the counter, he knew that it was probably directly linked to the note he had received earlier in the day. The man had some pride though, and Wyatt had no doubt that DeMilo wasn't going to say a whole lot with an audience, so with a roll of his eyes he asked suggestively, "So, do you want to read my fortune?"

DeMilo's shifting stopped and he gave Wyatt an incredulous stare before replying, "You? Are ya serious?"

Wyatt nodded, and DeMilo shrugged. "A'ight man, it's your money. Ain't gonna to be cheap ya know."

Wyatt shook the coins in his pocket and replied offhandedly, "I'm good for it DeMilo."

DeMilo gave him an appraising look and then was back in character. Wyatt could almost glimpse the gears turning behind DeMilo's eyes, but in all of his dealings with the man over the annuals, he hadn't shown more than a proclivity for turning a profit – not malice. So, when DeMilo motioned dramatically, waving to the threshold of the divination chamber, Wyatt followed without argument.

"Right this way, Your Highness," Demilo invited Wyatt on, his voice thick with melodrama.

Wyatt grimaced, causing DeMilo to chuckle as Wyatt moved through the curtains, and as he closed the heavy curtains and sat down, a slick smirk was still planted on his face.

Wyatt chose a seat at the small round table in the center of the room, and he huffed in irritation in response to DeMilo's chortling. "Cut the crap DeMilo," Wyatt growled as he took his hat off and slapped it on the table.

DeMilo straightened his face as he sat opposite the ex-lawman and began to put on the intricate turban that rested in front of him. With a glance at Wyatt, who was giving him that look, he tossed it aside and sat back leisurely. "Well, you ain't a Tin Man anymore, so what's up?"

Wyatt leaned back as well and folded his arms. The longer Wyatt stared DeMilo down, the more unsettled the man appeared. Making him nervous was sufficient to make his point though, and Wyatt finally took pity on him, and while sitting back up, he replied, "I hear you're the man with answers these days. What do you know, DeMilo?"

DeMilo sighed, and with a whine he pulled the rubies out of his pocket and deposited them on the table. "I don't know how you know, Cain, but somehow, you always do."

Wyatt picked one of the rubies up and studied it in the light, smiling a secretive smile in response to DeMilo's observation. Setting his humor aside, he studied the gem closely, looking for any sign that it might be fake. He wasn't an expert, but he'd seen plenty of gems while in residence at the Royal Palace for the past two annuals, and he was certain that these were the real deal. His expression remained impassive though, and he tossed the gem back to DeMilo, asking, "Those are impressive. Who gave them to you?"

DeMilo shoved the rubies back in his pocket and shrugged. "I don't know man, he was real creepy. Never seen him before today. He came in lookin' all shifty, like someone was watchin' him. Asks me about an old belt with jewels, like I'm some kind of antique dealer." Wyatt raised an eyebrow, and DeMilo took this as an invitation to continue, so he rushed on like he was in confession, "I couldn't help the guy, so I sent him to my contact in the Realm. He gave these to me to shut me up, I guess."

DeMilo let out a long breath in relief and sat back again. Wyatt wasn't finished though, so he asked, "What did he look like?"

DeMilo thought about the man, trying to bring up an image in his head. After a brief moment, he replied thoughtfully, "The guy was dark, like a shadow, and he was real skinny. When he talked, he kinda reminded me of a snake, you know what I mean?"

Wyatt nodded. Yeah, I know what you mean. Vizor.

"Anyway, like I said, I couldn't help him none, so I sent him here." DeMilo handed Wyatt a card with a merchant's name and Realm location on it, "Look, don't tell the wives. They want me to be legit. No need to tell them that my ma's still runnin' her own game in the realm. I ain't got nothin' to do with it."

Wyatt shook with laughter – the merchant in the realm was his mother. When Wyatt recovered, he replied kindly, "Your secret is safe with me, from one husband to another."

DeMilo chuckled and rose with Wyatt. As Wyatt stood, he reached for DeMilo's hand, depositing a few bills in it as he shook his hand firmly. DeMilo smiled warmly and looked down at his hand, "Thanks man, I really appreciate that."

Wyatt nodded again and turned to leave. Before exiting, he stopped and turned back to DeMilo, "Be seeing you down the Old Road. Take care DeMilo."

DeMilo reached out as if remembering something and he called Cain back, "Hey Cain, wait, there was something else." When Wyatt turned back to him, DeMilo stepped forward and spoke more quietly, "This guy didn't look like the type to be runnin' around with no rubies, and he seemed real worried about getting' this belt for his employer. Sounded shady, ya know?"

Wyatt sighed heavily and nodded, having already surmised as much. The confirmation was just enough to set his teeth on edge, and a cold chill ran down his spine. DeMilo looked at him thoughtfully, recognizing the steely expression in the man's eyes, and spoke again, "You be careful man, sounds like your kind of trouble."

Wyatt shoved the hat back on his head and tipped it to DeMilo with another sigh as he disappeared through the curtain. Back in the storefront, DeMilo's wives still stood at the counter, but were now heavily engaged in watching the parade. Wyatt glanced at the screen. Shit, he thought, they're only a few blocks from the palace. I'd better get a move on!

Wyatt did not delay any further and crossed quickly to the door and exited without looking back. He had only walked a few steps out onto the sidewalk, when a feminine voice called him, "Mister, hey mister, wait!"

Wyatt turned with a frown, halfway expecting some unknowing person to ask for an autograph or something equally obnoxious. Instead, he was surprised to see one of DeMilo's wives darting out of the door, running towards him. Wyatt recognized the look of urgency on her face, and she had a similar expression of not wanting to be seen written in her eyes as they shifted around their surroundings. Wyatt took this as a cue and moved them both into the alley. Wyatt looked down on the woman for a moment while she caught her breath, noting her dark hair and small stature, and he then took the note out of his pocket and sniffed it again. Lavender, he thought.

"I'm going to take a wild guess that you're the one who sent me this?" Wyatt asked quietly, holding the note out to Darla.

Darla nodded silently, meeting his eyes.

"What can I do for the temple?" Wyatt asked earnestly.

Darla shook her head and replied, "This was more of a personal request from Ozma, not from the temple."

Wyatt tilted his head in confusion. "How is that exactly?"

Darla held Wyatt's gaze and spoke commandingly, "She wants you to give her music box to the Princess before you leave."

Wyatt folded his arms, although he knew Darla was the genuine article, he could not help his natural instincts. With a raised eyebrow he inquired, "Now, did she happen to say where I would be leaving to?"

Darla shook her head and replied, "No. She didn't seem to think it important to disclose that to me. She only wanted to be sure that Princess Dorothy gets the music box. Please, promise me that you'll do this. The future of the House of Gale may depend upon it!"

Wyatt dropped his arms and let out a huff, and while looking down at his feet, he nodded solemnly. When he looked back up again, Darla was nowhere to be seen. Wyatt rolled his eyes and muttered, "Just like the old days." Wyatt looked up at the sky and suddenly remembered the time. Without any further delay, he rushed back to the barracks, just missing the oncoming surge of the parade by scant minutes.