Chapter Nine

By the time the suns had just begun to rise over the Southern OZ, Ahamo, Wyatt, and Jeb had closed in on their approach to the Realm of the Unwanted. Since the fall of the Sorceress, some things had changed in these parts, and a small settlement had popped up not far from the Realm. To Ahamo, the place resembled something out of a Wild West movie, replete with livery stables at the edge of the main street, a general store further in that doubled as a post office, and a pleasant little Inn beckoning to the weary travelers. As welcoming as these features were, the few locals that milled about in the early hours were a rugged sort, and observed the newcomers with veiled, if not somewhat suspicious interest. Having mostly avoided the eyes of the Sorceress for annuals by living simply off the land, which in these parts was rough and mountainous, these were not the type of people to openly welcome strangers, and watched quietly for any sign of trouble from the men on horseback. This was an understandable factor to the men, and so their approach into town was more like a respectful amble, so as to give the locals plenty of time to size them up. While Wyatt and Jeb negotiated boarding their horses at the livery stables, Ahamo strolled over to the General Store to stock up on supplies, intent more on discovering the nature of the townsfolk than on refilling his supplies. Once their business was completed, the men met at the outskirts of the settlement, and made their way by foot to the Seeker's hut, which was a short distance away by the edge of Lake Lurline. Their survey of the small town had been successful, and as the men trudged through the rough back county, they recounted everything they had learned while in the small settlement.

Ahamo shifted the pack on his back, which was now heavier for the supplies he had picked up in town, and Wyatt, noticing his father-in-law struggling, stopped to switch packs with him silently, smiling slightly at the older man. "Thanks," Ahamo grunted as he took up Wyatt's pack, relieved for the lighter burden.

Wyatt grinned and replied, "I don't think my wife would take kindly to me ignoring the plight of her old man, you know."

Jeb snickered and Ahamo scoffed at them both, "Old? Who you calling old?" He punched Wyatt on the arm, causing Wyatt to wince, and he rubbed his injury as a chuckle escaped his lips.

The men laughed for a moment as they continued to walk until it was quiet again. The three were silent until Ahamo noted thoughfully, "The man in the general store was a nice sort. Pioneer type, rough but seems trustworthy."

Wyatt glanced at Ahamo as he continued to pick his way through the rocky path, "Yeah, the stableman wasn't much different. Said that settlement popped up not long after the Queen came back to Central."

Ahamo stopped for a moment to drink from his canteen. Wyatt and Jeb stopped as well, turning towards Ahamo to watch him quietly as they waited. Ahamo paused in his drink to comment, "Those people back there are good folk, Wyatt, and they didn't seem to know anything about Vizor. I doubt he would come this way given how suspicious they were of us even."

"What's on your mind?" Wyatt asked suspiciously.

Ahamo glanced up at the sky pondering his answer, a hint of hope edging in as he finally answered, "Well, I think we could risk sending word from there if we needed to, is all."

Wyatt kicked a small rock near his boot, considering Ahamo's suggestion. When he looked back up at the man, he nodded and replied regretfully, "Sure, but let's hold off for now. I think we might want to keep a lid on things until we have a better handle on everything."

Ahamo repositioned his canteen, having finished his break, and with a heavy sigh, he waved Wyatt and Jeb to follow him. The men walked silently from here; all were road weary, and as early as it was, they were eager to reach the cover of the hut so they could rest up before taking on the Realm. The closer they drew to the hut, the surer Ahamo's steps became, and his footfalls soon increased, stopping only when they reached the shoreline of the mountain lake. Wyatt and Jeb brought up the rear, panting lightly in the thinner air and looking somewhat sheepish for having been outpaced by the older man. Once they finally caught up to the Consort, Ahamo turned and began striding down the shoreline, seeming to ignore them while he recalled the remaining paces to their destination. After about ten minutes had passed in relative silence, Ahamo seemed to spy their destination and pointed them to a haphazard pile of wood on a rocky outcropping near the shoreline. Some steps away, close to the tree line, stood a small logger's hut. The hut seemed on the verge of falling over, and its roof leaned dangerously. On its rickety porch, rocking in an ancient rocking chair, a severe looking man glowered out at the water, and a scruffy dog stretched out on ground by his feet. Jeb and Wyatt were clearly apprehensive, and flashed Ahamo a look of uncertainty, but Ahamo ignored them and continued forward. The Cain men followed carefully, but when they came closer to the hut, the man's vision turned to them as they'd feared, and he stood and reached for his rifle, eyeing them suspiciously all the while. Wyatt began to finger the gun in his holster, but Ahamo stopped him with a hand on his upper arm, chuckling quietly before he waved at the man, who seemed to suddenly recognize Ahamo. Almost as if someone had flicked a switch in the man's brain, the severe man's face became unreadable while he returned his rifle to its home and sat down again, and he soon resumed his blank stare off into the distance as if Ahamo and his cohorts did not exist at all. Ahamo, meanwhile, started to climb up the stack of wood, which Wyatt realized, was more of a set of steps that led up to a hole in the middle. Ahamo dropped his pack down the hole before signaling to Wyatt and Jeb, who were still standing at the bottom and eying the man at the hut curiously.

"Come on you two, suns are getting higher, and I could use something to eat before we get to work," Ahamo called. When neither moved, Ahamo rolled his eyes, seeing that he would have to set them at ease before they would move further, and swiped a loose rock from the ground before tossing it at the man and the hut. As the rock approached the hut, the entire scene – hut, dog, man, and all – flickered momentarily before coming back into focus. Wyatt's eyes narrowed momentarily at the scene before an impressed expression crossed his face. Ahamo cleared his throat and called down to them with an edge of impatience, "Can we go now?"

Wyatt and Jeb wasted no time now that they knew that the man was no danger to them, and they clambered up the wood, following after Ahamo, who had already disappeared down a hidden ladder. Once inside, Wyatt and Jeb looked around, impressed by their surroundings. They were standing in the center of a small round room made up of roughhewn stone, and the stack of wood that they had climbed up to enter made up the rounded roof. The only apparent source of light was the opening in center of this roof, and they were relieved when Ahamo appeared in one of the doorways on the outer edge of the circle, lamp in hand. In short order, Ahamo handed kindling to Jeb and motioned to the fireplace on the other side of the room. Without any need to assign pecking order, Jeb got straight to work on the fire, leaving Wyatt to deposit his duffle bag and hat in a nearby alcove in the wall while he continued to marvel at the construction of the hidden hut.

"Well, it's no palace, but it will do," Ahamo smiled as he shifted some odd brickabrack on the shelf next to the fireplace so he could find a home for the lamp in his hand, and as he set the lamp down, he continued, "If you want to use the facilities, they're down that way, and there's a storeroom for food down the other hall." Ahamo then pointed at the doorway on the opposite end of the circle from the other two doors and spoke again, "There's a bunkroom that way, but it's really only big enough for one."

Wyatt was already arranging his bed roll in the alcove between these sets of doorways, and he turned around momentarily to reply, "Jeb and I will take the main room, you can take the bunkroom. I'd like to be close to the ladder anyway."

Ahamo seemed to be relieved with Wyatt's suggestion, but didn't get the opportunity to reply before Jeb managed to bring a small fire to life in the grate. This was like a signal to the fatigued men, and the three men soon settled around the stone edge of the room, staring absently at the fire as they rested their feet. After a few moments, Wyatt decided to break the silence, finding himself impatient and ready to move again. "So, where's this artifact, Ahamo?"

A smile crept up on Ahamo's face and he nodded in the direction the lamp, which he had lit shortly after arriving in the hut. Ahamo stretched out his legs and answered, "With that lit, we have a few hours to leave a message for Artie at the Tavern before he'll come looking for it. We'll need to get a move on after we eat if we want to get there on time."

Jeb eyed the lamp curiously and inquired as he chewed on a piece of jerky, "How does he know that we lit the lamp?"

Ahamo pulled out his own piece of jerky that had been in his vest pocket and chewed at it thoughtfully before he answered, "That lamp, my boy, is one of two lamps once thought to belong to Dorothy Gale and her Aunt Emily. It was said that Dorothy would light her lamp to let Emily know she was coming for a visit to the Otherside. When her Aunt Emily died, Dorothy brought her Aunt's lamp here from the Otherside and never lit either again. They both stayed in the Royal Archives until Lav banished me. I took one with me at Lav's request, and the companion piece stayed in the archives with Artie. That's been our signal for annuals that one or the other would be leaving a message at the tavern. The plan has always been that once it's lit, the other holder waits for four hours before attempting to hunt down the message. We'll go back later to see if he left a reply."

"Well," Wyatt sighed before pulling a ration pack out of his bag, "let's eat while we can then."

The men ate silently and after all was consumed and cleaned up, they turned out the lamp and threw sand over the fire. All were eager to get going and moved with quiet purpose to get themselves straight and up the ladder. After a short walk back north towards the settlement, they turned west into a large field. The high grass waved idly in the breeze and seemed to go on for miles. Wyatt smirked, remembering DG's skeptical sideways glance at him when they entered this pasture the last time. With no obvious indication that an entrance was anywhere near, DG had looked at Wyatt like he had lost his mind. Unfortunately, Wyatt found himself uncertain of where the trapdoor was once again, but Ahamo seemed to have muscle memory for it, and walked directly to the door in the ground, hidden by high grass. Wyatt and Jeb followed the surefooted consort, once again hiding their astonishment at the abilities of the royal while they climbed down the long metal ladder one by one. At the bottom of the ladder, Ahamo and Wyatt turned to Jeb, silently nodding in parting before Jeb turned and disappeared into the crowd, blending in seamlessly with the inhabitants of the Realm that meandered down the subterranean avenue.

Once Jeb was out of sight, Ahamo gestured for Wyatt to follow him, and they went in the opposite direction, picking their way through the crowd slowly. During their slow stroll down the street, Wyatt fingered his pistol in its holster. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he eyed the passersby with moderate suspicion, but passively so that he would not attract attention. Ahamo seemed unaffected by the locals and led Wyatt in a relatively straight line towards the other end of the Realm where, after a turn down a narrow alleyway, they stood in front of a small tavern. Wyatt's mouth went into a straight line as he looked at the entrance to the place, remembering the last time he had had the bad fortune to enter it. Airofday had double crossed both Wyatt and the Seeker the last time, almost getting Wyatt killed and DG kidnapped, and he wondered if he might encounter some kind of repeat in the seedy joint if he dared enter again. With reluctance, he shot Ahamo a warning glance, his eyebrow raised skeptically as he eyes shifted from Ahamo to the tavern. Ahamo only patted his arm reassuringly before he jerked his head in the direction of their destination, smirking while he silently goaded the Tin Man forward as if they were going for a casual drink. Wyatt sighed before he followed Ahamo, feeling his apprehension grow with every step, and his eyes continued to scan the surrounding area as they drew near.

When they entered the dingy bar, Ahamo waved at the barkeep while they strolled leisurely over to a booth in a dark corner at the end. The barkeep seemed to recognize Ahamo and came over to the table a few minutes later with two pints of dark ale in his hands. He slapped the mugs on the table and grasped Ahamo's hand with a wide grin."Seeker!" the man exclaimed, "It's been too long! Where have you been hiding all this time?"

Ahamo chuckled and replied as he grasped the mug in both hands, "Ah well, had to get the lay of the land now that there's a new sheriff in town, so to speak."

The barkeep chuckled, and then leaned over, knuckles resting on the table as he spoke low, "Yeah, about that. Sorry about that bit with Airofday. Nasty business. Had no idea she'd try to put one over on ya."

Ahamo waved off the man's apology and shrugged, "Forgiven Joe. Everything's different now, right?"

Joe nodded, a tinge of worry fading from his face with Ahamo's reply. Wyatt watched the men quietly, noting how the barkeep seemed intensely concerned with Ahamo's feelings towards him with interest, and deciding to let it go for the time being, he pretended to sip his beer.

The barkeep seemed awfully chatty, and turned to look at Wyatt, "So who's this, Seeker?"

Ahamo cleared his throat slightly to get Wyatt's attention and answered with a wide grin breaking across his face, "This is my son, Joe."

The barkeep broke into a bright smile, his portly cheeks red with glee, "Oh, I didn't know you had family! Bringin'em into the business, are ya?"

The man took Wyatt's hand in a body shattering handshake, while Wyatt smiled uncomfortably. Ahamo, meanwhile, was chuckling mercilessly, enjoying Wyatt's discomfort and he answered cheerfully, "Yup, now that the Sorceress is gone, I'm about ready to retire. Time for junior here to make his own way without me," Ahamo replied with a glance at Wyatt, who was glowering at Ahamo in irritation.

Wyatt took another swig of his ale and tilted his hat at the barkeep, who took this as an indication to leave, and he laughed nervously, seeming to feel that Wyatt might be a chip off the old block as it were, "Ah well, can't run forever they say. I'll leave you two to it then."

The barkeep shook Ahamo's hand once last time before he skittered back to his bar, continuing his prior task of cleaning glasses. Ahamo waited for the man to leave, and then, with a final glance to be sure they weren't being watched, he began scribbling a note on a slip of paper. The note read:

Vizor in Realm, looking for jeweled belt for unknown employer. Request advisement immediately.

Wyatt watched Ahamo as he wrote the note and spoke with an air of uncertainty, "Junior, huh?"

Ahamo shrugged nonchalantly as he placed the paper in an envelope and stuck it under the cushion of his seat. "True enough, anyway. You're the closest thing I'll ever have to a son of my own, you know." Ahamo paused for a moment, and then spoke quietly into his mug, "Pretty lucky, I think. Couldn't have asked for a better son."

Wyatt was glad for the beard that he had grown, because he felt his cheeks grow warm at Ahamo's honest compliment, and he drew a shaky breath. Deciding that he might as well say what he was thinking in an effort to ease his father's nerves, he answered quietly, "Well, I don't really remember my own father. He died when I was just a baby, but I think I'm pretty fortunate myself. Not many fathers in your position would be so sympathetic to a rusted old soldier like me marrying his daughter."

Ahamo laughed heartily and drained his mug in one long swig. When he slapped it down on the table, he replied, "Oh, if only you had been there when Lav presented me to her folks. You think you're rough. Imagine your daughter pulling a scrappy street urchin into your dining room for a formal dinner. They were 'bout ready to have me hanged, but Lav is a bit of a firecracker and wouldn't have it. Probably saved my neck a few times before we finally walked down the aisle."

Wyatt's eyes widened. He had known that the Consort was a slipper, and an unknown quantity when he became the future Queen's consort. He hadn't known the rest, however, and he was surprised to say the least. It also made him smile to hear him describe the Queen in such a way. It reminded him of his own firebrand, and he smiled to think that the Consort and he had more in common than he had originally believed. Wyatt drained his mug quickly and placed his hat back on his head.

"What's next, Dad?" Wyatt inquired with a warm smirk.

Ahamo raised in a humored eyebrow at Wyatt and slid out of the booth, and Wyatt did the same, following Ahamo out of the bar quietly, but not before waving to Joe in parting. Outside, Wyatt followed Ahamo as he strolled down the dark avenue. Once they had left the shadows of their alleyway, Ahamo turned to Wyatt and finally gave him a straight answer as to their next steps. "Artie will be here any time, but I don't want to spook him, so I think we ought to be scarce for an hour or two."

Wyatt blew a low breath out through his mouth and thought for a moment. If they were topside, he would have looked up at the suns to gage the time, but down here in the Realm, there was no real indication, and people seemed to mill about no matter the time, giving him no idea how much time they'd be wasting by going back to the hut. They finally decided on hunting down Ma DeMilo's stall and at least scoping her out for a spell before heading back to the tavern, surmising that since the stall wasn't likely to be far, and would give them opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. When the finally hunted down the woman's storefront, they stood in the shadows across the street for over an hour, watching the wrinkled old woman haggle and harass her periodic customers, looking like a thinner and meaner version of the portly man she'd left in Central City. No one of any real interest appeared in the time that they watched over the woman, so they headed back to the tavern, almost eager for another wet beverage after their tedious last few hours.

This time, Wyatt sidled up to the bar, keeping the chatty man occupied while Ahamo searched the booth. After a few moments, Ahamo came back to Wyatt, sliding the note over to him while he sat down at the bar with a practiced sigh. Wyatt glanced at it as he drank his ale with gusto, only picking it up only after draining his mug. Under Ahamo's original note, there appeared hurriedly scratched sentence. The scant note read:

Stay right there. I'll be back.

Wyatt and Ahamo turned around and leaned against the bar, surveying the room. There weren't many patrons in the bar at this time in the afternoon, and their booth was conspicuously empty. Wyatt and Ahamo exchanged a tenuous glance before they eased off of their stools and ambled over to the booth, sliding into their original seats and trying in vain to make small talk while they waited with anticipation. The minutes ticked by, and Joe came by to exchange their pints with fresh brew. The men were actually thankful for the distraction and had gotten about halfway through their second drinks when a gruff voice growled at them.

"Mind if I sit down with you?" the small round man grumbled and labored to scoot into the booth next to Ahamo without really being given permission.

Wyatt and Ahamo exchanged surprised glances and turned to examine their new arrival. Artemis Saul was small in stature, but his dark bushy eyebrows and glowering stare made him seem a good deal larger. He carried a large carpet bag with him, which he grasped at possessively as he squeezed into the booth. Once seated, he peered over his wire spectacles at Wyatt and Ahamo, seemingly taking them in as well. Satisfied that they weren't an immediate threat, Saul waved Joe over, who deposited a mug of ale in front of him before shuffling away to patrons who had just arrived at the other end of the bar.

Ahamo spoke quietly as if to the air, "This is a bit out of the ordinary."

Saul stroked his goatee thoughtfully and replied, "You don't say? Because this," he waved his finger between Ahamo and Wyatt as he spoke pointedly, "is a little unusual too."

Ahamo cleared his throat as he pulled a small box out of his pocket and placed it quietly on the table in front of Saul, "Well this ought to prove our intentions. If it doesn't, we'll leave."

Saul peeked into the box and looking to Ahamo with a pinpoint glare, he hissed, "The Emerald!" As Saul placed the box carefully in his bag, he stopped and growled, "But where's the rest? Where's the compass?"

Ahamo sighed heavily and admitted sadly, "I don't know. When the Sorceress ambushed us in front of the mausoleum, she shrunk me. I couldn't really ask the hag to be careful with something I didn't want her to have in the first place, now could I?"

Saul took a deep breath and pushed back against the table, surveying the men at the booth again before he slapped his hands down and spoke with definitive urgency, "Right, well. We can continue this conversation elsewhere. Now that I know I can reasonably trust you, follow me."

Wyatt and Ahamo slid out of the booth after Saul and moved quietly after the man. Their movements went unnoticed by Joe, as he was busy arguing with an inebriated patron who was refusing to leave the bar, and all eyes in the bar seemed to be on this exchange. No one seemed to notice the three men walking past, nor did anyone call after them as they snuck into the storeroom at the back of the establishment.

Once inside the cramped storeroom, Saul shut the door, locking it behind him. "Whatever you do, don't touch anything," Saul barked, causing Wyatt and Ahamo to look around in bafflement.

Saul ignored their astonishment and rifled through the bag in his hand. After a moment, he pulled out a large brass doorknob. He chuckled to himself as he grasped it, referring to it directly as he muttered, "Thought you could get away, huh?"

Ahamo and Wyatt peered at each other from either side of the small man, somewhat confused, but they remained silent. Saul, meanwhile, pushed Wyatt to the side so he could get to the wall behind him, and with another quiet chuckle, he attached the doorknob to the wall. In another moment, a simple wooden door appeared where only a wall had once been, and Saul stepped forward to pull the door open. Saul held the door open and beckoned to the men to follow. "Entre Vou," he proclaimed with a flourish of his hand.

Wyatt did not understand him, and his eyes narrowed. Ahamo, on the other hand, smiled and stepped through the door, shaking his head in disbelief, "Who've thought," Ahamo muttered quietly, "an Othersider?"

Wyatt stepped through the door during this exchange and turned to see Saul remove the doorknob before closing the door behind them. The door disappeared, and in its place, a stone wall reappeared. Saul chuckled knowingly in response to Ahamo and replied, "Who said I was an Othersider? I may have just spent some time there, is all."

"Fair point," Ahamo replied as he looked around.

Wyatt and Ahamo's eyes roamed the large room they were now standing in. The walls were of smooth granite, and there was row after row of long shelves lined with all sorts of objects. The ceiling was immeasurably high, and long windows that lined the wall closest to them let in the bright afternoon light of the suns. They were very clearly no longer in the Realm of the Unwanted, but where, they could not determine.

Saul was still sharing a laugh with Ahamo, and Wyatt cleared his throat, getting impatient with their sidetracking, "Pardon me, gentlemen, but do you think we could get a move on?" Wyatt growled, jamming his thumbs in his belt loops in irritation.

Saul glanced in Wyatt's direction and seemed to recall the purpose for bringing them there in the first place. "Oh," he exclaimed, "Yes. Well first of all, I think some actual introductions are in order. I work better when I know who I'm talking to."

Saul placed his bag on the shelf behind him and continued, placing a hand on his chest, "I am Artemis Saul, Curator of the House of Gale, but you may call me Artie, and you," He pointed to Ahamo as he spoke, "must be Prince Consort Ahamo, or as I've known you for so many annuals, the Seeker." Saul laughed, amused with himself as he turned to Wyatt and deduced, "That must make you Sir Wyatt Ulysses Cain, husband to Princess Dorothy, retired Major General of Her Majesty's Royal Army and former Tin Man?" Wyatt chewed on the inside of his cheek as he stood surveying the seemingly arrogant man in front of him, uncertain if he liked the man or if he wanted to deck him. Artie eyed Wyatt with equal thoughtfulness, and he pointed a finger at him and muttered, "Ulysses isn't a bad name, you know. A strong man from his majesty's world had it first. It wouldn't go over well to get into fisticuffs with me anyway, not when I'm trying to help you, don't you think?"

Wyatt smirked at Artie in quiet reply, deciding that he liked him after all, causing Artie to scoff lightly as he turned to his bag, rubbing his hands together as he spoke, "You mentioned a jeweled belt. I have to know more. Tell me."

Artie listened intently as Wyatt recounted what he had learned from DeMilo and Darla, following Artie as he scurried down the aisle. Artie placed the Emerald on a shelf next to a charred broomstick and a picnic basket and made a notation on a clipboard hanging on a hook nearby.

"Wait," Artie stopped Wyatt, "go back to the description of the belt one more time."

Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose and repeated himself, "Vizor said he was looking for an antique leather belt. He said it was bejeweled, and he insisted that it was very unique."

Artie tapped his finger on the rim of his glasses as he thought, and pointed in the air when he added, "and he paid off the merchant in rubies, right?"

Wyatt shrugged. "Yeah, unusual I'll admit, but how does it connect to the belt?"

Artie let out a low, ominous laugh and swept down the aisle, leaving Wyatt and Ahamo sprinting after him. As Artie ran, he pointed at shelves muttering, "Ephalba, Mombi, no not her. Pastor? Naw." Finally, he skittered to a halt and exclaimed excitedly, "A-ha! May I present, the Belt of Roquat the Red!"

Artie swept his hand over the shelf on his right, where a belt gleamed. The belt was, indeed, very old, and the brown leather, which at one point, had been supple and warm, was now dry and cracked in places. The jewels that lined its center were of rubies and emeralds, and one solitary diamond in the center. When Wyatt reached for it, Artie swatted his hand away and clucked like an old woman, "Don't. Touch. Anything!"

Wyatt withdrew his hand and raised it up like he was being held at gunpoint, "Sorry," he grumbled.

Artie took a deep breath and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, "Look. Every object in these archives carries certain inherent dangers." Artie gestured emphatically with his hands as he spoke, continuing as he labored to slow his excited breathing, "this, for instance, will take you anywhere in the magical realms you want to go. It also said to have given the Gnome King many other unknown powers, but I really believe he just had a knack for enchanted items in general. Probably had more than a few." Artie was rambling now, excited about having people to speak to. On such a subject as Roquat, he had many things to say, as he had developed many theories over the annuals, but time was short, and he could see his visitors becoming agitated. Artie waved frantically at himself and rambled, "No matter, the point is, whoever is behind Vizor must at least know about the belt's ability to transport a person, and they also have a similar affinity for precious gems. But that's no matter either, because the belt is here." Artie gestured towards the belt, still excited and buzzing frenetically.

"Well that's good at least, but what are the chances that Vizor will come looking for it here?" Ahamo cut in, looking worried.

Artie scoffed in reply and waved at a nearby window, "Look outside, Consort. There's almost no chance that Vizor would even dream of where we are. The biggest risk I face is when I come to visit you." He pointed at the Consort both with his finger and the intense glare of his eyes.

Ahamo glanced out the window. They appeared to be high in the mountains, but which mountains, Ahamo could not tell. He turned back when Wyatt spoke, still feeling nervous and uncertain, "Alright, then. So they probably don't stand too much of a chance of getting the belt while it's here, but let's just say we want to draw them out. Is there any way that we might be able to copy the belt, maybe use it as bait somehow?"

Artie glanced down at the belt, considering Wyatt's suggestion with a bushy eyebrow raised thoughtfully. He tapped his glasses again and answered slowly as the thoughts formed, "Maybe, but let me think about it some. Maybe I can come up with something for you." Artie pulled the doorknob out of his pocket and handed it to Ahamo. When he spoke again, he stared intensely into Ahamo's eyes and commanded, "I need you to imagine a safe place where I can come and go to meet with you while we figure this thing out. Picture it. Picture every detail. Once you've got it, walk over to the wall, and push the knob into it firmly."

Ahamo looked down at the knob in his hand. His eyes showed apprehension, like he expected the knob to burst into flames, but he did as he was asked, and shut his eyes tightly as he pictured the hut. After a slow, steady deep breath, he strode over to the door and jammed the knob into the wall where again, a simple wooden door appeared. Ahamo grasped the knob again and pulled the door open. On the other side was the hut, which was unoccupied and lit dimly by light from the hole in the ceiling.

Artie stepped through the door first, taking a silent visual inventory of the space. When they were all through the door, Artie clapped his hands together and exclaimed, "Now I know where we can meet at any time, and we can avoid that seedy little tavern. Stay close. I'll be back in a day or less. Let me see what I can do."

Ahamo and Wyatt nodded heavily, feeling fatigue settle in at the suggestion of waiting. Artie nodded as well and saluted them both before he stepped back through the door and removed the knob. The door shut behind him, and slowly disappeared from view, leaving only the rough stone that was there before. There was nothing left for the men to do but wait, and they busied themselves with the mundane; a fire needed to be rebuilt and dinner made, so they got to work, attempting to ignore the passage of time until both Jeb and Artie reappeared.