Author's Note

Not my monkies. Not my circus. It's a good show though.

Chapter Ten

The breakfast table was nearly silent, almost like a graveyard at dusk. Apart from the occasional tinkle of flatware on china, or the rustle of fabric, it was disturbingly quiet, and one would think that the three Gale women were angry with each other for how little they spoke. In many households, staff coming upon this sort of scene amongst family members would be correct in their beliefs, but here, the staff made no assumptions and bustled in and out of the room a silently as if they had been in fear of interrupting an important conversation. The women were actually speaking, but from outward appearances, this conversation took on only the physical manifestation of minute gestures and facials expressions. A set of blue eyes would flash on a pair of green orbs across the table – one woman would shrug, and the other huff quietly through her nose – only to be silenced by a graceful glance from a pair of lavender eyes, barely looking up from her hard-boiled egg before she graced both girls with a miniscule smile and returned to her breakfast.

"Girls, you're meant to be practicing," Lavender reminded her daughters wordlessly, "given that you are both in rather precarious states, it might be best if you save your sibling rivalries for the spoken word. Although this form of communication requires less use of your light than other more overt forms of magic, it can still drain you."

"I'm sorry mother," Azkadellia replied internally, feigning a frown as she averted her eyes from her irritated little sister.

DG, feeling petulant in usual fashion, rolled her eyes, retorting, "It's not a rivalry mother. Az just takes twisted joy in torturing me. First you want to stuff me into a bunch of frilly dresses, and now you're threatening my spawn? Come on, Az, I can only handle so much pink and lace. At least wait until she's born, okay?"

Azkadellia's eyes met DG's, and a spark of mirth flowed between them until they both burst into a fit of giggles, causing the staff to turn and spy them, averting their own grins caused by the infectious laughs of the princesses. Lavender stopped eating immediately, and placed her hands gracefully in her lace covered lap, audibly clearing her throat before speaking wordlessly, her voice sounding metered and patient inside the minds of her daughters, "Girls, let's continue our discussion, shall we?"

DG snorted ungracefully, and Az cleared her throat before both answered, "Yes mother."

Lavender's eyes moved from Azkadellia to DG once more before she resumed her breakfast, and she resumed silently, "DG I'd like you to tell me what you're thinking. You mentioned repeating history, what did you mean, my Angel?"

DG smiled knowingly, and her eyes flickered on Azkadellia for a moment before she replied with a certain amount of pride, "Well, it was really your idea in the first place, mother, but I think to keep Az safe, we should let her die."

"What?!" Lavender roared, jumping from her seat as her eyes flamed on her youngest, her hands balling into tight fists.

Azkadellia reached out to grasp her mother's hand, and as she squeezed the gentle woman's hand, she spoke aloud quietly, "Mother, please hear DG out, I think she's on to something."

Lavender's face relaxed, and as her breathing calmed, she glanced at her eldest, flashing her a weak smile before she resumed her seat. Now calm, the Queen nodded silently, allowing DG to resume, explaining wordlessly, "You made the witch think I was dead, so why can't we do that with Az? It can't be that difficult to place her under a sleeping spell, can it?"

Lavender inhaled sharply and she looked down into her lap for a moment while she considered, answering thoughtfully, "No, ordinarily it's not, but my Darling, what about you? Not only are you easily winded as of late, but this will put you in a good amount of danger, yourself. Have you considered this or spoken to Wyatt at all?"

DG's back straightened while her mother spoke, discomfort rapidly washing over her. Her mother was right of course; Wyatt wouldn't like this plan one bit, and he probably wouldn't even consider it an option unless he was present to guard her. She would have to find him soon, she realized, not only to warn him, but to get him home. DG's need compelled her to a certain amount of bluntness, and she answered truthfully, "Yes, I have considered the danger, but honestly. I don't think it changes my risk. That letter seemed more like a promise than a threat, mother. That Boulderstone guy, if that really even is his name, has it out for Dorothy Gale, and I seem to be a reasonable substitute. I don't think it will matter to him if Az is alive or dead. He's coming for me. As for Wyatt, I haven't talked to him yet, but I'm working on a way to get a message to him. I promise you; I won't do anything until he and I talk."

Lavender swallowed DG's statements like a bitter pill, and nodded heavily in understanding before turning to Azkadellia and asking carefully, "And you, Azkadellia, what do you have to say about this plan?"

Azkadellia sighed, and as she did, her eyes seemed glued to the ceiling while she considered her answer. Finally, she met DG's eyes before turning to her mother, answering resolutely, "I trust DG, mother, and I think she's right. Whatever this Boulderstone has in store for DG, his overall plan seems to be to wipe out our family, and he's using Vizor to do it. Vizor loved the witch, and I'm sure he'd like for nothing else than to take revenge on me, since I killed her. I'd like to think that Wyatt and Daddy will find Vizor before he can make good on the promise he made me in his letter, but we have to be ready just in case."

Lavender held her daughter's eyes for a long period before she finally uttered a loud, defeated sigh, conceding aloud, "Alright, my loves, I will trust you. I could never keep either of you from anything when you had your mind set, and it seems that this instance is no exception." She reached out to both women now, grasping their hands before continuing silently, "Just be careful, and do not do this alone. You will need your spouses now, more than ever. I just hope that this will be the worst crucible either of you shall ever have to face in your marriages. Neither of them will like this, my dears. It goes against a man's nature to put his wife in danger." She then added verbally, "I love you both."

DG squeezed her mother's hand back, replying audibly, "We love you too, mother, and I promise, no unnecessary adventures. I'll stick to the library and my apartment until Wyatt gets home."

Azkadellia scoffed, adding, "And I'll make sure she gets plenty of homework done. You always were a terrible study, Deeg, but I suppose I can make good use of your promise. I'll supply you will all the books you've been avoiding the past two annuals."

DG smiled covertly before replying in a practiced, sardonic tone, "Great. Put me to sleep, why don't you?"

The girls laughed giddily, only to be interrupted by the swift entrance of Ambrose, who plopped down beside Azkadellia and gasped for breath as he reached for the pitcher of water in the center of the table.

"Ambrose," Azkadellia exclaimed, "Are you alright? What happened in the meeting?"

DG eyed her friend worriedly as she grasped the pitcher first and began to pour a glass, knowing both the cause for his absence at breakfast, and the possible cause for his winded countenance now. It had almost been a week since Wyatt had left, and DG was running out of excuses for his absence. The entire Royal household was running out of excuses, to be precise, and Ambrose had been dispatched by the Counsel of Advisors to address the issue, after a whisper from one dignitary turned into a chorus of questions from several different camps, leaving the Advisors at a loss as to how they might respond. They had all turned to Ambrose for suggestions, not knowing that the Tin Man was absent, and afraid to broach it with him on their own for fear of his famously glowering stare.

Ambrose nodded with a choked gasp, gratefully accepting the glass of water DG slid in his direction. Ambrose flashed a small smile in DG's direction as he muttered, "Thanks Doll." After taking a healthy gulp, Ambrose broke into an explanation for his rushed entrance. "I'm sorry, but I just left a meeting with the Counsel, and I bring with me their concerns about DG and Wyatt's visibility. The nation has responded well to their marriage, and they feel that it might increase the Princess' trustworthiness further if the nation could see her and Sir Wyatt working on behalf of the people more often. They feel that this will do much to assert the validity of the royal family and further cement Az in her role as the future Queen."

DG scoffed quietly, feeling betrayed by what Ambrose had said as she threw her napkin down on the table, grumbling, "What? Isn't restoring the OZ enough?"

"DG," The Queen spoke gently, "Please Darling, try to understand."

DG took a deep breath and nodded, understanding the suggestion, but still feeling personally affronted as she grumbled "I do understand, I just haven't formed a stiff upper lip yet." She then glanced up at Ambrose as she continued sarcastically, "So what do they want me to do? It's not like I can call Wyatt home for a photo op!"

Ambrose grinned wide in response to DG's question, feeling proud of himself for even thinking of such a thing and being able to present his ideas at just the right moment. "Well, I've already thought of that, actually, and he's already here and ready to go."

As Ambrose spoke, he produced a small chuck of metal, placing it gently on the table as if it were a precious gem. The oblong chunk of metal was small enough to fit in Ambrose's hand, and was fitted with a lens on one end, and a large button on top, which Ambrose compressed after positioning and shifting it carefully on the tablecloth. In an instant, light issued from the machine, and Wyatt appeared, looking as if he was seated with them. He smiled warmly at Ambrose, who was seated directly opposite, and was dressed as he had been on the day of the parade in his dress uniform. DG was transfixed by the image, and reached out tentatively to touch Wyatt, knowing that he was not there, but aching from missing him all the same.

"What have you got in mind Glitch?" DG asked, still watching the Wyatt decoy, "it's not like he's interactive."

"Well, it's not like they want you two crazy kids to give interviews," Ambrose laughed, "They just want visibility. I thought we might record you and Wyatt here meeting with General Andrus and General Jinjur or something and say that you're discussing security in the Zone or something and feed it to the news service. They'll eat it up." As Ambrose finished explaining his plan, he depressed the button again and replaced the device in his pocket. With a smile at the women he spoke again, "The time loop is about twenty minutes, so we'll have no trouble getting some footage."

Az snorted suddenly, "How did you manage to get Wyatt to smile that long?"

Ambrose shrugged and replied with a wink at his wife, "I have a winning personality, what can I say. To be honest, Wyatt wanted a decoy, so he was more than willing to suffer a little."

DG smirked at Ambrose and exchanged a glance at her mother as she inquired, "Okay, so when is this meeting supposed to happen?"

"The sooner the better, Dollface." Ambrose answered while he rose, offering DG his hand. As he pulled DG up, he addressed the others, "Ladies, I'm sorry to run away like this, but I'd like to steal DG for an hour or so. The Generals have cleared their schedules, and they would like to give Wyatt a reprieve sooner rather than later. Word from the Crack is that a group of men on horseback crossed almost a week ago or so, and General Andrus and General Jinjur want to be sure that Wyatt keeps his cover intact now that he's probably in the Realm." He then reached down to plant a sweet kiss on Azkadellia's lips, and he murmured, "I'll see you soon, love."

"You'd better, Ambrose," Azkadellia smiled back, batting her eye lashes at him as he rose to address her mother.

The Queen sucked in air and steadied her shoulders before replying, "Men on horseback? Is there any other news?" When Ambrose shook his head sadly, the Queen shrunk slightly and sighed, "Very well Ambrose, I leave DG to your capable hands."

The Queen rose from her seat and kissed DG and Azkadellia on the forehead before striding gracefully past them and out of the dining room, trying desperately to hide the disappointment on her face. With a rueful smile, she departed, remembering her prior discussion with DG about the trials of marriage. After fifteen annuals apart, the Queen had grown accustomed to solitude, but it brought her no pleasure, and she had longed for some small note from Ahamo assuring her of his wellbeing. As she glided down the hall, she steeled herself for the rest of the morning, reminding herself that she had to put her personal feelings aside and don the façade of the Monarch. DG was similarly disappointed by the lack of news, but the scant mention of Wyatt in the Realm had provided her with a goal, and she followed after Ambrose quickly, wanting to set the plan in motion right away.

Wyatt's visibility was also a subject of concern for Ahamo, and as he, Wyatt and Jeb sat down to breakfast in the central room of the hut, he broached the topic thoughtfully, "Wyatt," Ahamo began as he looked at him over his mug, "I think you and I ought to split up from here on out. Now that I've introduced you to Joe and given you a foothold in the tavern, you don't really need me muddying the waters."

Wyatt chuckled lightly before he replied, "Yeah, I was actually just thinking the same thing. Thought I'd pay Ma DeMilo a visit today. I guess you want me to put in an appearance at the tavern as well, right?"

Ahamo nodded as he replied, "The tavern was my base of operations, as it were. That's generally where I made all of my contacts. If Vizor is looking for you, he'll go there. Might be worth slipping Joe a bill or two to get him to spread word about your business relationship with Ma DeMilo."

"That's a good idea," Wyatt muttered, staring off into space.

Jeb rose from his seated position next to the fire and stretched, "Well," he spoke through his yawn, "while you're doing that, I'm going to join the team scouting for Vizor. They've been trying to determine where his hideout is, and they could use another set of eyes."

Wyatt nodded in agreement and stood as well, taking the young man into a hug, "Sounds like a good plan son, see you tonight?"

"Yeah," Jeb muttered against his father's shoulder.

When Jeb disappeared through the hole in the roof, Ahamo cleared his throat and spoke as he also stood to stretch his legs, "As for me, I'm going to stay close and wait on Artie. Someone ought to stick around until he shows up." He stepped closer to Wyatt and clapped him on the shoulder, "Be careful Wyatt. Not all of my contacts were the friendly sort, nor were some of them above pulling a weapon."

Wyatt breathed through his nose and nodded curtly, "You have my word. I'll be back by nightfall."

Ahamo offered Wyatt a half smile and called up to him as he climbed the ladder, "See that you are."

Outside, Wyatt gazed up at the suns' positions, silently gaging the time. Judging by their position, Wyatt calculated that he'd have at least a good six hours before he needed to be heading back in this direction. With a glance at his pocket watch, he began to move down the stack of wood and up the shoreline towards the Realm. Once he slid into the hatch in the pasture, Wyatt dropped down onto the street and repositioned his hat before melding into the crowd moving around below. Finding Ma DeMilo wasn't an issue but being sure that she didn't have company was another issue altogether, so Wyatt moved slowly, as if strolling. The pace was maddening for Wyatt, who usually moved with quick purpose to his intended destinations, and as Wyatt felt his blood pressure rising, he reminded himself that he was also, besides trying not to draw attention to himself, playing the part of the Seeker. He remembered that the Seeker had moved like dark water into the tavern on the night DG had been separated from him over two annuals ago, and so Wyatt slowed his steps and began to move with the flow of traffic around him, trying his best to mimic the behavior of his father-in-law. He hit his stride after a few paces, until his role as the Seeker seemed to fit him like a favorite cloak, just in time to arrive at DeMilo's stall, where he saddled up to the counter, seeing that the woman was free of visitors. Ma DeMilo was a severe, thin looking woman of sixty annuals. She looked as if she had soaked her hair on a nightly basis in cheap hair dye, as her hair was an unnatural shade of red, devoid of any highlight or sign of age near the temples, and her mouth was pulled into a perpetually sour expression.

When Wyatt approached the stall, she glowered at him, arms crossed in annoyance, and she wagged a crooked finger at him before he could speak, eyes narrowed suspiciously as she spoke, "I know you, you're the fella that took my boy's wagon a few annuals back. Had that girl with ya if I recall right. Waddaya want?"

Wyatt cleared his throat suggestively as he leaned on the counter and pushed a few bills across, speaking in a low voice, "Now, we don't have to bring that up do we? After all, I was just talking to Tony and the girls just the other day. What do you want me to tell your daughters in law the next time I see them, when you've been so unfriendly? Surely, they know that it's you Tony sent me to in the Realm, right?"

Ma DeMilo quickly pocketed the bills and inquired in an uncertain voice, "Tony sent you?"

Wyatt nodded as he shifted his feet and replied in a low purr, "Antoine said that you were the person to get things in the Realm, and that if you couldn't, then no one could. Is that right, Ma'am?"

Ma DeMilo's eyes shut involuntarily at the low growl in Wyatt's voice, and Wyatt smiled wickedly, seeing that he had found an angle on the woman. Ma DeMilo recovered quickly though and shrugged as she answered, "I might be the person. Who wants to know?"

Wyatt flashed the woman a grin, to which she smirked lightly, fighting a blush on her cheeks. Wyatt turned on the charm now and began to speak as he tipped his hat up. Before he could get more than a word out, a man stumbled up to the counter, shoving Wyatt out of the way in the process.

"Hey lady," the man barked in a loud slur as he waved a small purple vial in Ma DeMilo's face, "this stuff don't work none! I want my money back."

The man was in tatters, and he looked like he slept on the streets. He stank of urine and his face was pockmarked from want of a bath. When he spoke, one could see that his teeth were rotting, and his breath had an unfortunate odor as a result. Ordinarily, Wyatt would have attempted to help such a man. The annuals under the Sorceress had produced many such unfortunate souls who had turned to vapors and alcohol to drown their sorrows, but today he was impatient. Worse, to Wyatt's alarm, he spied something glinting from the man's other hand, so he was forced to move quickly.

Before the man could make another move, Wyatt stepped back and tapped him on the shoulder, intending to distract him briefly. "Hey buddy," He growled. The action had the intended consequence, and the man swung around, brandishing his blade. Wyatt quickly grabbed the man's arm and twisted it sideways as he swung the man into a bar hold. In a one fluid step, Wyatt stepped behind the man and leaned into the back of his knee, toppling the whimpering man to the ground. Now face down in the dirt and lose from whatever drug he had imbibed on; Wyatt had no trouble twisting the knife out of the man's hand and slapping it on the counter with a loud thud. By the time the man had turned to sit on his knees, Wyatt had already drawn his gun and was aiming it point blank at the man's chest as he cradled his injured arm. "Now," Wyatt sighed with irritation, "What's your beef with my client?" Wyatt spied the man's bottle in question on the ground near his feet and stooped to pick it up. As he shook the bottle in front of the man, he chided him a friendly manner, "Is this what you're mad about? This empty bottle?" The man started to let out a whine in return and Wyatt's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Come on, buddy, be real. Look, I tell you what," Wyatt pulled out a few small bills and handed it out to the man, "Why don't you go get a drink, on me." The man slowly rose to his feet and reached for the bills. When he got close, Wyatt grabbed his collar and growled, "but if you or any of your buddies threaten Ma again, I'll come find you. Get me?"

Wyatt now patiently handed the man the bills as he released him, and the man stuttered, "Yes, sir. I get ya. Sorry Mrs. DeMilo, it won't happen again."

"Good!" the woman barked, and swiped the blade off of the counter, tossing it into a bin behind her.

The man scurried away out of sight while Wyatt turned back to Ma DeMilo. She was howling with laughter when he turned and wiping a tear from her eye. "Mister," she sighed, "that was the best bit of entertainment I've had since I got here. If you don't want me to call you anything else, what's it gonna be, and how can I help ya?"

"They call me the Seeker nowadays," Wyatt replied with some fatigue, continuing, "I was hoping that if anyone comes around asking for me, or a bejeweled belt, you'll think of me."

Wyatt flashed her another bright smile, allowing his eyes to twinkle with good humor at her. Ma DeMilo smiled at him and swatted his arm as she laughed, "Aw, you're just a flirt. But sure, for a fee."

She whispered in Wyatt's ear, sending him howling in laughter. When he leaned back, he had to catch his breath before he answered, "It's a deal. I bet she'd think it was really funny anyway."

"You're sure you can get her to give me an autograph?" Ma DeMilo spoke in an excited hush.

"Yeah," Wyatt nodded with a genuine smile, "I think she'd be glad to."

"Well Seeker," Ma replied as she stuck out her hand, "It's a deal."

Wyatt shook her hand firmly in return, and then turned to leave, checking his pocket watch once more as he picked his way through the crowd to the tavern. A little early for a drink, Wyatt grimaced, but gave in despite the time, with a heave of his shoulders and a heavy exhale, not wanting to leave the Realm and having no other real destination in mind. Maybe Joe serves lunch, Wyatt reasoned as he turned the corner to the seedy little joint. Wyatt was relieved to find the tavern relatively empty when he slid inside, and Joe was standing sentry at the bar, wiping down glasses while he watched the news on the viewscreen behind the bar. Since his back was turned to Wyatt when he entered, he did not notice him as he seated himself at the bar, and just about jumped out of his skin when Wyatt coughed to get his attention.

"Hey Joe," Wyatt grumbled, "I don't guess you serve food here, do you?"

Joe finished wiping down the glass in his hand and put it away before he answered with a smile, "I might. I think the missus leaves a few sandwiches in the ice box just in case. Want one?"

Wyatt nodded as he repositioned himself in the stool and gratefully accepted the plate when Joe quickly produced it from under the counter. Wyatt felt unusually stiff, and stretched somewhat as he asked, "What do I owe you for it?"

Joe waved him off and replied, "Meh, buy a drink and we'll call it square. You're doing me a favor honestly. Wife will be pleased that someone ate her food."

Wyatt smirked, thinking of his own wife, miles away in Central City. "Glad to oblige then. How 'bout a stout then?"

Joe nodded approvingly and began pouring the ale out from the tap, "Comin' right up."

Now settled with a sandwich and pint of brew, Wyatt and Joe's conversation petered out in favor of Wyatt's quiet chewing. Joe moved back to his work and gazed absently at the viewscreen when an interesting story came up. Wyatt, not wanting to appear too interested in the news of Central City, only listened while he whittled away at his sandwich. He was hungry though, and the simple meal was quickly gone, so he leaned into the counter to sip on the ale, now glancing up at the viewscreen with veiled interest.

"Joe," Wyatt spoke in a low gravely tone, "Anyone interesting come in lately lookin' for the Seeker?"

Joe's face screwed into a thoughtful frown and he took a moment before answering, "No, but you want me to guide anyone if they do?"

Wyatt nodded slowly and replied, "Doing business with Ma DeMilo. Anyone looking for me specifically can go visit her. She's selling a lot of my merchandise these days."

Joe smiled and nodded, "I get ya. Doing things your own way now that the old man is retiring, huh?"

Wyatt chuckled knowingly, "Something like that. What do I owe you for the brew and the help?"

Joe waved him off again, "Keep it Seeker. I feel mighty bad about that whole Airofday business. As long as you keep bringing me customers, I'm glad to share with ya some."

Wyatt silently raised his glass to the man and continued to watch the viewscreen a while longer. As the lunch hour began to wind down and the morning turned to afternoon, patrons began to shuffle in a few at a time. Most were harmless and seemed more concerned with their drinks than in the other people at the bar. Wyatt maintained his discrete vigil at his stool, watching a recap of the previous week's events in Central City while he passively listened to the chatter around him. After almost an hour of wincing at his own image on the screen, Wyatt was joined at the bar by another man.

Wyatt's new companion was a gruff type that appeared to spend a good deal of time in the wilderness, judging by his heavily caked boots and layered clothing. Apart from his apparel, the man next to Wyatt had a few days of growth on his face, and dirt under the fingernails that he wrapped lightly on the bar while he waited for Joe to come back. Wyatt was getting quietly annoyed by the man's impatience but held his ire by sipping on his drink and watching the viewscreen more intently. The man next to him, however, seemed interested in Wyatt more than the screen, and seemed to study him against the viewscreen while he waited.

Wyatt was becoming visibly uncomfortable by the time Joe appeared, grateful for Joe's distraction as he asked the man politely, "Can I help you Mister?"

The man shook himself out of his comparisons between the man next to him and the Tin Man on the screen and turned to Joe in a gruff voice, "Yeah, I'm lookin' for the Seeker. Ya seen 'em?"

Wyatt turned to face the man with a grimace as Joe responded, gesturing to Wyatt with his towel, "There's your Seeker, so do ya' want a drink or not?"

The man seemed to ignore Joe's question and shook his head in disbelief, "Naw, you're that cop that married the Princess, ain't ya?"

Wyatt began to shake his head but felt a familiar unease on the back of his neck as the man stood from his seat. As if by muscle memory alone, Wyatt jumped up from his seat, gun drawn at the man. "I ain't no Prince." Wyatt growled, eyes blazing.

"Hold on just a sec!" Joe bellowed raising his hands up in fear. He almost hollered at Wyatt but stopped short when the other man carefully placed his own firearm on the counter.

At that very moment, a new story blared across the viewscreen, drawing their attention away from each other:

Princess Dorothy and Sir Wyatt Cain have been steadily increasing their duties to the Realm in the past week, following the Queen's announcement on Eclipse Day that the eldest Princess had been named the Heir Apparent. This morning, the two met with the Counsel of Advisors and members of the Royal Army to discuss security concerns in the OZ. In attendance, seen here, were Princess Dorothy, Sir Cain, First General Peter Andrus, and Major General Jennifer Jinjur. It's important to note that Sir Cain, himself, is a retired General of the Royal Army, as well as a member of the Tin Men, so he will have a lot to say on this topic.

Wyatt hid a smile at the image on the screen. You're my hero, Glitch, Wyatt thought as he surveyed his own image on the screen. His decoy sat in a chair next to DG, opposite Peter and Jennifer, and was smiling at something being said by Peter.

At that moment, the news story changed, and the image of his staged meeting with the generals faded from view. Simultaneously, Joe coughed and exclaimed defensively, "See, look. My friend here isn't Sir Cain, and he certainly isn't a cop. Now sit down and order something or get out!"

The man raised his hands in apology and sat down as he replied sheepishly, "Sorry Mister, you just have real unique eyes is all. Let me buy you a drink, okay?"

Wyatt replaced his gun in the holster and growled as he sat down. As he signaled to Joe, he asked the man, "Well, you're not the first person to compare me to that stuffed shirt. So, what can the Seeker do for you?"

The man didn't waste any time, and pulled his rucksack up from the floor, depositing it on the counter so he could rifle through it. "Well," He replied thoughtfully, "I hear that you buy and sell unique items. I happened upon this on one of my trips south near the black hills."

The man finally found what he was looking for and placed it gingerly on the counter between him and Wyatt. Wyatt had never seen the odd contraption before, but it looked distinctly "DG," fitting in the palm of his hand, with a large needle on the top like a weathervane. It was somewhat reminiscent of a compass, but when Wyatt picked it up and turned in his seat, the needle remained motionless.

"Huh," Wyatt spoke thoughtfully, as if to himself, "found yourself one of Antoine DeMilo's wish finders, right?"

The man groaned and replied in slight exasperation, "Aw, not that old carpetbagger. Are you kidding me?"

Wyatt chuckled and handed it back to the man with a shrug, "Sorry pal, I'm afraid so. Tell you what though; I could use the parts if you're willing to part with it."

The man deposited the compass on the counter in disgust and sighed, "Yeah, I want that hunk out of my sack. What'll you give me for it?"

Wyatt peered into his wallet, pulled out a few bills, and thrust them nonchalantly at the man, "Will this work for you?"

The man counted the bills quickly and nodded approvingly before shoving them in his shirt pocket, "Thank ya kindly, Seeker. I'm a bit embarrassed to tell you the truth. I normally have a pretty good eye, but I've been tricked by DeMilo's junk before, that rascal."

Wyatt laughed in reply and nodded, "Yeah, he's like a bad penny. Good for a laugh though."

The other man nodded with a smirk and guzzled his beer while Wyatt rose from his seat. With a tip of his hat to Joe, who was now on the other end of the bar, he looked down on his compatriot and sighed in false fatigue, "Well, I'll be seeing you –"

"Name's Silas Halsted, Seeker. Good to meet 'cha. Sorry about the misunderstanding." The man interrupted as he took Wyatt's hand in a firm shake.

Wyatt returned the handshake, silently noting the man for future reference. "Well Silas, see you along the Old Road."

Wyatt pocketed the compass and tipped his hat to Silas before turning to walk away. With two close calls in one day, Wyatt moved with more purpose now, ready to slip out of the Realm and under cover for the rest of the day. "No sense tempting fate," Wyatt muttered darkly as he climbed the ladder and exited the trap door.