Chapter Two

Benton was on his back, on a soft surface. Praying devoutly that he would awaken to find that he was in his own bed and that his dinner of pizza and beer had been the source of strange dreams, he opened his eyes. Hovering over him was the old man he'd seen bandaging the boy earlier. He closed his eyes and let out a despairing sigh.

"I'm sorry, sir, you're still here," the old man said. "Can you sit up, or are you still feeling unwell?" Benton struggled to a sitting position. He was in a bed in a large room with only the old man, the king, and the man with the pony tail there.

"I'm fine," Benton said. "Just a slight headache."

"Here, drink this. It's a nutritional supplement. It should help."

Benton took the cup, which contained a green beverage. He took a tentative sip and grimaced at the sickly-sweet taste. The king stood by the side of the bed. "I am Randor, King of Eternia," Benton nodded. Fortunately the fellow didn't seem to expect anything else. Gesturing at the old man, he said, "This is Dorgan, my chief healer." The other man stood at the foot of the bed. "And this is Duncan, my man-at-arms."

"I see."

"May I ask your name?"

"I am Dr. Benton Quest." They were giving him the same odd looks that the woman had given him earlier and he sighed. "Benton Quest. Doctor is a title referring to my level of education, and Quest is my surname." They still looked puzzled. "My family name."

The king nodded. "What should I call you?"

"Benton would be fine," he said.

Randor lifted his hand in which he held the vellum. "What's this?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Benton replied. "I can't read it. Evelyn kept referring to it as she spoke to me, and I got rather the impression it was important."

"Evelyn?" Duncan said. "Do you mean Evil-Lyn?"

Benton blinked. "Evil Lyn? You have to be kidding. I thought it was a variant pronunciation."

"No, it's an affectation," Duncan said dryly. Benton snorted.

"Can you tell us what you were doing there?"

"Yes, that's - they were attempting to capture you." Randor's eyes widened with shock. "According to that young woman, a man called Skeletor was attempting to summon creatures that would fetch you and place you in the cell your people found me in. Unfortunately, he missed, evidently through not being specific enough?"

"Evil-Lyn told you all that?" Duncan asked, exchanging a worried look with Randor.

He nodded. "She was attempting to elicit information from me to discover where the spell went wrong. What the differences between us were." They were all standing around him, staring down at him. "Would you mind sitting down or something? You're sort of looming."

"Of course," Randor said, pulling a chair over to the side of the bed. "I don't entirely understand."

"Neither do I," Benton admitted. "I gather that magic is somewhat commonplace around here?"

"Well, not commonplace," Duncan objected. "Very few people can do it, and fewer still have any real power."

Benton nodded. "Yes, I understand, but what I mean is, it's not entirely unexpected. Not viewed as an impossibility?"

"No, of course not," Randor said.

"Well, it is where I come from, so you'll have to forgive me if I find it all a little difficult to explain." He sighed, pursing his lips ruefully. "I'd like to take time to give it proper study, but I must return home."

Randor looked down at the page in his hand. "If I'm understanding you correctly, then this is a list of similarities between the two of us."

"As I said, I can't read it. What does it say?"

The man began reading it off, and it did sound as though he was right. Leaders of men, bearded, blue-eyed, each with a blond, blue-eyed son who was not yet a man, a good friend who was also an employee and who was devoted to that son. The friend a soldier of great skill and renown . . . Benton started shaking his head as it went on and on.

"Does it not match?" Randor asked when he was done and had noticed his guest's reaction.

"All too well, actually," Benton said. "Down to the son having a devoted pet and a close friend who was capable of magic. Hadji isn't exactly a magician, but he does have mystical abilities that I can't explain."

"I see. And Evil-Lyn was asking you where we differed?" Benton nodded. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing," he replied. "It's not in my nature to aid some evil witch to capture someone else. She had started to describe you, trying to elicit reactions that would give her additional information about me when your people came in. Why was that, by the way?"

"They thought Adam and I had been captured," Duncan said, looking somewhat sheepish. "We had a small accident. The windraider we were in had crashed and it's radio was damaged."

"And that caused your people to raid this 'Snake Mountain' place?"

"Well, Skeletor has captured Adam in the past," Randor said. "And he's made attempts to capture Duncan. It was a reasonable possibility when they didn't come in on time. They had also strayed considerably from their planned course . . ." The king's voice trailed off, and he looked irritably at his man-at-arms.

"I explained that, your highness," Duncan said defensively.

"Well, now is neither the time nor place for such a conversation in any case." Randor looked off into the distance and then down at Benton's face. "Tell me, Benton, how old is your son?"

Benton felt a flash of panic. He didn't really know any more about these people than he had about Evil-Lyn and her crew, though he did have a sense that he could trust them. And he remembered Randor's expression when he'd looked at his own son. "He's nine," Benton said, grimacing. "The son that's described there at any rate. My older son is eleven."

"You have two sons?" Randor asked. "There's a key difference right there. Adam was the only child Marlena and I had."

"Well, depending on how fussy the creatures were, Hadji might not count in any case," Benton said musingly. "He is my son by any measure I care to use, but I have read some tales of magic wherein the blood bond is more important than something like the relationship Hadji has to our family."

"What relationship is that?" Randor asked curiously.

"I adopted Hadji two and a half years ago, when he was nine."

Randor and Duncan exchanged an interesting look. Benton wondered what they were thinking. "No, the spell might not take that into account," Duncan said thoughtfully.

"I really have to get home. The boys will worry, and Race will be beside himself."

"Is this Race the friend mentioned in the spell?" Randor asked. "The soldier?"

"Of great skill and renown, yes." Benton snorted, remembering the list of descriptions. "Oh, and Race has a fiery daughter who is a redhead." Duncan raised an eyebrow. As Race's counterpart in the spell, he must have a similar child . . . ah, yes, the girl who had rescued him. She must be Duncan's daughter. "Race is Jonny's bodyguard. He was assigned by the government to my family shortly after my wife's death when Jonny was six." As always, Benton felt a stab of pain at the thought of Rachel.

There was a silence, and then Randor said, "I'm so sorry. That must have been a terrible loss." Benton nodded. "And it's another difference. You've seen Marlena, though I don't know how much notice you would have taken of her in your condition."

"I saw her," Benton said. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth worriedly. "I have to get home. Jonny will be frantic. This sort of thing happens to us from time to time, and he always worries a lot."

"This sort of thing?" Dorgan asked, his voice breaking.

"Abductions," Benton growled. "I've been kidnaped a number of times in the past, as, unfortunately, has Jonny." They were all three staring at him in astonishment. "I'm a scientist and an inventor, and I've been involved in a number of projects that interest people on both sides of the line. Some people want to prevent me from stopping them, some people want me to work for them, and some just want to kill me. There are a variety of reasons why it happens."

Randor gave Duncan a wry look and said, "That's why Skeletor's after Duncan. He's our inventor."

Benton shook his head. "But, you see, Jonny will have all sorts of possible villains in mind. Lord only knows what they'll do. Especially the boys, who tend to be somewhat impetuous and very over-confident."

"I could wish Adam would catch some of that," Randor muttered, and Benton noticed a dismayed expression on Duncan's face.

He shook his head. "No, you don't!" he exclaimed. Randor looked surprised. "If your son stays out of trouble, just thank your stars. Every time Jonny goes out of my sight, I'm terrified that I'll never see him again. Hadji's the same way. You add Jessie into the mix, and it's a recipe for disaster."

"Jessie?"

"Race's daughter." He glanced over at Duncan. "I gather from the list that you have a daughter. Is it that girl who led the party which rescued me?" Duncan nodded. "Jessie and she, I would wager, have a fair amount in common. She's a year older than Jonny."

"Teela is about that much older than Adam," Duncan said.

Randor appeared to have remained fixated on their sons, however, for he said, "Yes, but my son will one day be king."

Benton tilted his head. "So? Domestic policy is far more important than being a war leader." He shrugged. "You can hire any boob to be a general."

Duncan snorted, and the healer looked more amused than the comment warranted. Randor turned slightly red and said, "My sole qualification for this job is that I was the war leader for my people."

"Don't talk nonsense," Dorgan said gruffly, causing his king to turn to him in surprise. Benton watched the interplay between their expressions, fascinated. These two men had clearly known one another for decades. "You have a considerable number of other qualifications. As does Adam, for that matter."

"Yes, Randor," Duncan said, giving his king a wry look. "If it was simply the fact of being a war leader that made you king, the Elders would have chosen me. I am the better fighter."

"That's debatable," Randor said, glowering. "Nevertheless, a king must be a warrior."

"I do have some understanding of what you're talking about, actually," Benton said. "One day, Jonny will be the head of Quest Enterprises, which is larger than some small countries where I'm from."

"Quest Enterprises?" Randor repeated curiously.

"It's a corporation." When it was clear that they didn't recognize this term. "A business entity, with thousands of employees all over the world. When I'm gone, Jonny will inherit it."

"What about your other son?" Duncan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Benton blinked, somewhat startled by the question. "Actually, they'll probably each of them take on different aspects of the organization. Hadji will no doubt focus on pure science. Jonny has always been more of a people person."

Randor shook his head, seeming puzzled. "A 'people person'?" he asked.

"He has better people skills than Hadji," Benton said, nodding.

"Really?" Duncan said. "Adam has excellent people skills." His king turned the puzzled look on him. "All the treaties and negotiations he's managed. He does very well with diplomacy." He chuckled. "And quite aside from that, just look at him at court. How he keeps up the balancing act between all those match-making mamas is beyond me."

Benton sighed. "Ah, yes, those have started descending in our neck of the woods as well. If we didn't live on an island, we'd have a bigger problem with them, I suspect. As it is, I'm inundated with letters and cards and e-mails and phone calls from old friends with eligible daughters. And not all of them were even friends. Some are just people I met once at a conference and who can't even remember my name correctly." Randor was giving him an amused and understanding look. "The ones I really hate are the ones who show up for unannounced visits. 'Brendan, would you mind putting me up for a few days?' I've always wanted to do some deep sea fishing, and you did say I should come visit you.' Oddly, though, I can't seem to recall issuing nearly as many invitations as are accepted."

"I have encountered that phenomenon as well," Randor said, "though to a lesser degree, I think."

Benton snorted. "I expect you have more minions to fob them off for you."

Duncan nodded. "We spend a lot of time fobbing. I once frightened off a countess with nine daughters."

To Benton's bemusement, he and Randor turned identical expressions of dismay on the man and said, "Nine?" in near unison.

"Countess Alyana." He chortled. "I gave her a list of the required qualifications for a crown princess. It sent her off very quickly. Four of the nine are already married now, and a fifth is betrothed."

"You've been keeping track?" Randor asked.

"Very close track, actually."

"Good God," Benton muttered. "Nine?"

"But, Duncan, there is no list of qualifications for a crown princess," Randor said, sounding bewildered.

"I invented one. We took it partially from a historical novel and partially from Marlena's actual experiences as queen. We made it just this side of incredible, and uncomfortably paranoid. It's proven effective against several overly anxious noblewomen now."

"Marlena helped you develop this list?" Duncan nodded. "I'm glad I let you two handle these things. I'd probably have a heart attack."

"You say it's warded off noblewomen," Benton said curiously. "What about the fathers?"

"Oh, they get a different list. And the warning that their precious daughter will have to start training with Teela. It's proven even more effective." Benton snorted.

Dorgan glared at them all. "I do believe we've gotten off the subject. Randor, you really must lay off the pressure on Adam. He clearly cannot live up to the example you set, and the stress is wearing on him. Forgive me for mentioning this in front of our guest, but this is the first decent opportunity I've had to say anything, and it's been concerning me for some weeks now."

"What?" Randor said. "I don't understand."

Benton nodded. "It's not at all uncommon. The sons of famous, respected fathers, especially those who are foremost in their fields, always have that sort of difficulty. Jonny's only nine, and I've already seen signs of it."

"What about Hadji?"

"It's different for him. He's not my son by birth, so people don't seem to have the same expectations of him." Benton glanced over at Dorgan. "You see, it's not just the fathers that put these pressures on young men, it's everyone else as well. A boy gets the sense that he must grow into his father's shoes, even if they could never fit."

"I certainly don't expect Adam to be an exact duplicate of me," Randor said, grimacing. "I just want him to have all the tools he needs to be a good king."

"Well, then find him a good warrior to be his advisor," Benton said. "Someone he can respect and trust." Randor looked at him in astonishment, and Duncan with growing appreciation. "You see, each of us has our skills," Benton said. "The trick is learning which are strongest and then finding people to help supplement our weaknesses. For instance, Race keeps my family secure against most threats, and he provides the boys with the attention I am often unable to give them."

The healer crossed his arms grumpily. "Yes, Randor. What does it matter if Adam isn't the warrior you are? He's different from you, and he'll be a different sort of king, that's all." The king looked startled by this perspective. "I think most of the people are relieved that their first king's sole heir isn't out there endangering himself on the battlefield, especially since he distinguishes himself elsewhere."

Randor blinked at his healer, glanced at Benton, then looked over at his friend. "I hadn't looked at it from quite that viewpoint."

"I know," Duncan said, smiling dryly. "Nevertheless, it is true."

The king shook his head pensively. His eyes sharpened abruptly on Benton's face. "Regardless, at the moment we need to consider how best to return Benton to his sons."

"That would be my preference," Dr. Quest said, smiling. He looked over at Dorgan. "Am I permitted to stand up? I feel somewhat foolish lying here in this bed."

"Of course," Dorgan said. "You seem lucid. Just sit down if you start to feel faint again."

Benton got up. "I do thank you for the rescue," he said. "Even if it was an accident."

"So, Duncan, what do you suggest?"

"I think that I had better consult the Sorceress. She'll probably want to see him, but I'd better go alone first."

Raising an eyebrow, Benton said, "The sorceress? I presume you don't mean that woman back at Snake Mountain. That Evil Lyn?"

"Of course not," Duncan replied. "The Sorceress of Grayskull is greatly skilled and will undoubtedly be able to help, but she is somewhat reclusive."

"I see."

"In the meantime, would you care for a tour of the palace?" Randor suggested.

Sighing, Benton nodded. "I suppose." He realized abruptly how graceless he sounded. "Please don't misunderstand, I find your home very interesting, but -"

The king held up his hand. "I understand, sir. I imagine that I would feel much the same in your place. Why don't we accompany Duncan to the hangar and see him off, then I can show you around?"

Benton agreed and the three of them set off. The healer left in another direction, presumably to return to his duties. The architecture of the building was very interesting, Benton thought, looking around. So many walls were simply missing, making for a very open and inviting atmosphere, though he couldn't help thinking it would prove less than defensible.

Duncan followed his pensive look and said, "There are forcescreens which can be turned on to repel intruders and inclement weather." Benton nodded, enlightened. Perhaps the climate was warm enough that they preferred for there to be wide spaces to catch the breezes.

They reached the courtyard to find that it was occupied only by the girl, whose name he had yet to get, and the young prince with his pet tiger. He was scratching the tiger's head and giving the young woman a very annoyed look. "Teela!" the boy groaned as they approached. "It was an updraft, your father doesn't seem to think it's my fault." This sounded so very familiar that Benton had to suppress a chuckle.

"Well, all I can say is -" She broke off when she saw them. "Your highness, Father, sir," she said nodding.

"This is Benton," Randor said. "Benton, I'd like to present my son, Adam." For a moment, Dr. Quest was uncertain how he should greet the young man, but then the boy put his hand out.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," the boy said, smiling. "This is Cringer," he added, stroking the feline's head. "He's a little shy."

Randor raised an eyebrow and gestured at the young woman. "And this is Duncan's daughter, Teela, the Captain of the Guard."

She too, offered her hand for a hand shake. Benton smiled at her. "Thank you very much, Captain Teela, for your assistance."

"Of course," she said off-handedly. "Are you all right?"

"Thank you, I'm fine."

"Well, I'm off, Randor," Duncan said.

"Are you going to see the Sorceress?" the boy asked, clearly angling for an invitation to come along. Benton was amused. Children, it seemed, were the same everywhere, even in their teens.

A sudden loud cry came from behind them and they all turned as the little jester, whatever he was, soared up yelling, "Your highness, your highness, your highness, your highness!" He was carrying what looked to be a sheet of vellum, folded in thirds and sealed with purple wax.

Randor reached out a hand and took it, his eyes wide. In a low, venomous voice, he said, "Skeletor."

Evil-Lyn drew all the energy together with a snap, and a young man of about twelve popped into existence in the cell before her. Skeletor peered over her shoulder and said, "I thought you said you could get the man's son! That boy doesn't look a thing like Adam."

Indeed, he didn't. He was a good bit shorter than Adam, and he was dark of complexion. From the color of eyebrows, she presumed he had dark hair. His head was covered with a winding wrap of white fabric, and his eyes, too, were dark.

"Where am I?" he demanded, and Evil-Lyn was pleased to see that she wouldn't have to recast her translation spell.

She stepped up to the bars. "Do you know a man called Doctor Quest?" she asked.

His eyes widened, and he looked her up and down. "What do you want with my father?" he asked angrily.

"Your father?" she repeated.

"So this is the man's son?" Skeletor asked. "I don't understand."

** And that's news? ** Evil-Lyn thought irritably.

"Yes, my father," the boy said. "Why have you taken me prisoner?"

"Does your father have any other sons?" she asked. The boy's eyes narrowed and he glared at her. "A blond boy?" His hands balled into fists, and she smiled. He was very easy to read, but he was a child after all.

Turning to her overlord, she said, "I do believe you neglected to specify that Randor has just the one child, Lord Skeletor. This boy has a brother."

The boy launched himself at the bars. "I did not say that. I do not have a brother! I am an only child."

She raised an eyebrow. "Your reactions didn't lie, boy, even if you do." She stepped back and reached out. That explained the peculiar dichotomy she had felt. A few moments later she had the second boy's spirit in her sights. Once more pulling the energy into focus, she caused the second boy to materialize behind the first. This one was blond, with blue eyes, and bore more than a superficial resemblance to Prince Adam. He did, however, appear to be a good deal younger. A small white canine struggled in the boy's arms. Skeletor clapped his hands and began rubbing them together.

"Interesting . . ." he murmured. "And now we have both the man's sons."

"What the -" the blond boy started to say, then he broke off. "Hadji! What's going on?"

"I do not know," the older boy said.

"And who's the Xena reject?" The dog burst free of his boy's grip and ran to the bars, barking madly. The older boy bent and hushed the little animal, then stood up again.

Evil-Lyn smiled at both boys. "Good evening, gentlemen. If you would care to make yourselves comfortable, we have a message that we need to send to your father."

The younger boy leapt at the bars. "You leave my father alone!" he yelled loudly. The little dog started barking again. "Race is gonna come kick your -" His eyes widened and his words broke off. The other boy, Hadji, she gathered, had a similar reaction. She glanced back and saw that Skeletor was approaching closer. The dog yipped and scampered away to the back of the cell.

"Race?" she repeated. "Is that a name?"

Neither boy spoke, both staring at the skull-faced man with wide, terrified expressions. "What are they saying?" Skeletor asked.

"I think you're frightening them, Skeletor. Perhaps you should leave me alone with them while you go to compose your message."

"I had planned to have one of them write it," the Lord of Snake Mountain said. "As I do not believe that the man would understand a note written in our language."

"Randor will, and I'm certain he'll pass the message along."

"Don't you think it would be somewhat more persuasive if we demonstrate that we do, in fact, have his sons?"

Evil-Lyn tapped her staff absently with her forefinger. "You're right," she replied reluctantly.

"I'm well aware of that, Evil-Lyn," he said in a snide tone, and she had to suppress a surge of anger. "Now, hand the blond boy some paper and have him write the note."

Nodding, she picked up a piece of vellum and a pen and held them out through the bars toward the blond child. "You will be writing a note to your father."

He put his hands behind his back. "I don't think so," he replied. "There's no way I'm going to help you get at my father."

"He says no?" Skeletor asked in a mild voice. Evil-Lyn nodded. Skeletor pointed the havoc staff at the older boy and blasted him against the back wall of the cell. He fell to his knees, putting his hand to his head.

The other boy ran to his side, yelling, "Hadji!"

"I think, Jonny, that we have no choice."

The blond boy stood up and walked to the bars. He took the writing materials, and looking bleak, he said,"What do you want me to write?"

Benton watched anxiously as the king carefully broke the seal and opened the page.

"There are two different sets of writing here," he said. "I can't read it all. But the letter is for you, Benton, from Skeletor."

Dr. Quest felt his heart plummet as the king turned the note so that he could read it as well. The familiar scrawl made his stomach twist with nausea. "And from Jonny," he said.

"By the Elders!" Duncan breathed.

Benton read Jonny's hasty scrawl. "Dad, these jerks have me and Hadji. And Bandit! They knocked Hadji into a wall! They say that they'll kill Hadji first and then me if you don't surrender yourself to them. Don't do it, Dad. And I promise, I'll remember the rules. Jonny."

He wanted to sit down, but there was no place to sit. He just stared at the page and the words blurred as he gazed at them. Those vile creatures had Jonny and Hadji. Race would be alone back at the compound, wondering where everybody had gone. He found himself wondering what their disappearances would look like on the security video CDs.

Adam, the prince, put an arm around his shoulders and guided him to sit down on a nearby planter. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. The tiger nuzzled his hand. Benton just shook his head.

"What does it say, Randor?" Duncan asked.

The king cleared his throat and began to read. "'Randor, please tell your new friend that I now possess his two young sons. They seem quite terrified, if a wee bit stubborn.'" Benton closed his eyes. "'I will not harm them any more than I have already . . .'" Randor paused, gulping, as Benton looked up in shocked horror. What had those monsters done to his boys? Giving Benton a sympathetic look, the king went on. "'. . . if he surrenders himself to me before noon tomorrow. If he does not, the older boy will die, and his body will be delivered to the palace." Benton buried his face in his hands. ** Hadji! ** "If, after six more hours your friend does not follow my instructions, the younger boy will suffer the same fate."

"Don't worry, we'll get them out of there," Teela said with assurance. He didn't move, unable to fathom what he could possibly do under these circumstances. He was clearly not on Earth anymore, nor did he have any idea how he'd gotten where he was. Race couldn't get here by any means Benton would want him to use. He could hear them speaking around him, but he wasn't really listening.

"Duncan, can you send for He-Man?" Randor asked.

"Adam?"

"I'm already on it," the prince said, running off, his tiger close behind him.

Randor sat down next to him. "Your sons, we will retrieve them. Teela, get a party together. We're going back to Snake Mountain." The girl nodded and ran off.

Duncan turned to his king. "What do you mean, 'we'?" he demanded.

"This man was captured in an attempt to secure me," Randor said, rising again. "I disapprove, and I mean to make that clear to Skeletor."

Benton looked up. "Much as I appreciate the sentiment, oughtn't you to remain behind in safety, your majesty?" he said.

The king shook his head. "I do not stand still for the abduction of nine-year-old boys to force their fathers into compliance."

Evil-Lyn stood irritably in the workshop, watching over the pair of young boys and their pet. The dog had sniffed every inch of the cell, marked a spot in the back, and then sat down very close to the blond boy's feet, in a guard posture. Skeletor had gone to take care of business elsewhere, leaving her in charge of the captives. The boys clung to each other like limpets. When a half an hour had passed since Skeletor had left, the older boy put his brother gently aside and walked to the bars. Evil-Lyn was alone in the workshop, though Trap Jaw stood watch outside. She raised her eyebrow at this sign of boldness.

"What do you want of our father?" he asked.

She tilted her head. "Why does he refer to him as 'my father' and you refer to him as 'our father'?" she asked curiously. The blond boy flushed.

"I am adopted," Hadji said. "My brother had our father to himself until two years ago, it makes a difference, I think."

"I don't mean it, Hadji," the blond boy said. "I just -"

"I know," Hadji said. "But it is perfectly normal. Brothers and sisters who were born to the relationship do it. There is nothing to be worried about, Jonny."

** Jonny and Hadji, ** she mused. Very different young men. She wondered what their capabilities were, what their father could do. He was clearly not the warrior type, but he was also clearly a man to be reckoned with.

"You have not answered my question," Hadji said persistently.

"I don't know. That will be up to Skeletor."

The blond boy, Jonny's eyes narrowed. "So you're just a minion?" he asked, giving her a look that seemed to pigeonhole her somehow.

"No, boy, I am second in command, and this is not my project."

"Oh," Hadji said, "so you know your place. That can be a good thing."

She placed rigid controls on her temper. She could see what these boys were trying to accomplish, and they wouldn't manage it. She wasn't going to allow a pair of wretched brats to get past her self-control. "What does your father do?" she asked.

"Beats the bad guys," Jonny said defiantly. There were still signs of fear around his eyes, but his spirit was clearly unbent. She could see his father in him, in his stance and his grim determination, but she suspected that if he resembled one of his parents in appearance, it was his mother.

Thinking back on the list, and the possibility that Skeletor would demand sufficient information to use it in the future, she tilted her head. "Tell me, Jonny. What's your mother like?"

She could see immediately that she had asked the wrong question. The expression that crumpled the boy's face was not rebellion but shocked fear. The other boy stepped between them and glared at her furiously. "How dare you threaten our father like that!"

The little dog jumped up and started barking at her. Jonny went down on his knees next to his dog and started calming him. "Quiet, Bandit," he murmured.

"I beg your pardon. I haven't threatened anybody. I just wanted to know what his mother is like."

"She's dead!" Jonny burst out. "As if you didn't know that!" The dog, Bandit, barked once, as if to punctuate this point, then licked his master's face.

Evil-Lyn's eyes flew wide. ** That could be viewed as a threat. Hell! ** "I didn't know it, Jonny," she said softly, gazing down into his eyes. "How could I?" She gave them both a serious look. "Don't you know that you're not in Kansas anymore?"

Jonny's eyes widened and he stared at her. Hadji let out a strange, strangled noise that sounded almost like a laugh. "Kansas?" he exclaimed. "We're not in . . ."

"Dad must have said it," Jonny said, his voice suffused with some bizarre mixture of emotions.

Evil-Lyn rose to her full height, looking down her nose at them. "What in the world do you think is funny?"

"If you do not know that, lady," Hadji said, "then we most certainly are not in Kansas anymore."