5

Ahamo tapped on the door before entering his daughter's room. Here in Central City, there were fewer balconies, but most rooms had huge windows overlooking the city. DG's room had one entire wall of glass, hung with rich blue curtains that closed themselves just by shifting a lever.

DG stood by the window, looking down at the hustle and bustle of the city. It seems busier to her than it had on her last visit.

"What do you think?" Ahamo asked quietly.

DG sighed. "It's a little like Gotham." A glance at her father told her he didn't get the reference. "Um, like Bonnie and Clyde."

Ahamo smiled. "Near as I can tell, the O.Z. progressed almost parallel to the OtherSide until about the 1940s, there."

"That explains a lot about the fashion, at least." DG's voice was dryly humorous, but anyone could tell her heart wasn't in it. It was how most of her conversation was these days.

Ahamo sat on a nearby loveseat. "Well, it was a surprise to me. It was 1969 when I Slipped. I was twenty-two, just out of college, off to see the world. My number hadn't come up yet on the Draft, so I was trying to pack as much life in as I could. I figured, I was due for call up any day."

DG sat next to him. "1969. Sheesh. Woodstock and Moon Landings and Vietnam, oh my."

"I take it, things got worse?"

"Yeah. You know, you can't go back, you're probably wanted for draft dodging."

"Probably. Anyway, I grew up in Omaha, Nebraska. Once I finished school, I set out to travel. Had a pick-up with the balloon in the back, and I went around performing at fairs, festivals. You know, juggling, breathing fire, balancing act, that sort of thing."

"You were a carnie?"

"I preferred to see myself more as a modern day minstrel, thank you very much!"

DG nodded, taking that in. Then suddenly, she groaned. "Omaha. Ahamo! Oh boy, that's really awful, Dad."

Ahamo laughed at her pained expression.

"What's your real name?" DG asked.

Ahamo winced. "So help me god, it really is John Smith."

DG groaned again. "No wonder you wanted to make up a new one." She peered at him, and then said, "You really do look great for your age, Dad."

That comment only made Ahamo laugh harder. "Oh god, Deeg. I was going to ask what year it was when you left, only now I don't think I want to know!"

"I can just give you highlights, if you want?" Ahamo nodded, and DG turned back to the window, recalling the cultural history of a place that was never quite home. "Well, you had Martin Luther King and JFK and the moon landing. You missed Pro Love turning Anti War, and Free Love became the Sexual Revolution. And when we finally got the hell out of Vietnam, it was the Me Era, and the Feel Good era, sex drugs and rock and roll, which eventually became the Big Eighties, when Greed was Good, and Republicanism ruled. Then the era of Conspicuous Consumption became the Technology Era, and everything that was big and expensive became tiny and even more expensive. When I left, everything was global: Global economy, global warming, global terrorism." DG shook her head. "The Zone is much better, Dad, trust me. You haven't missed a thing."

Ahamo sighed, putting an arm around her. "I missed a few things here too, sweetie. But it's getting much better now."

It was a small comfort to DG that both Ambrose and Raw came with the Royal Family to Central City. Of course, after his operation, Ambrose was reintegrated into his place in the Royal family. He was managing remarkably well with his restored brain, though he retained the sunny outlook he'd had as Glitch. And he told DG, she can call him Glitch forever if she wanted to.

Raw had been the bigger surprise. DG fully expected him to leave them to return to his homelands with the other Viewers, but instead he expressed a wish to stay with DG and Glitch. Knowing that he was a creature of nature, and the City was about as far from Nature as you could get in the O.Z., DG had asked why he'd want to join them.

Raw had smiled. "I will stay with my friends and see the City again."

"What interests you in the City, Raw?" Azkadelia asked.

Raw thought a moment, then answered, "Interesting smells."

"Princess?"

"It's DG. If you're still Glitch, I'm still DG."

"Of course, DG." Ambrose sat next to her at the large desk, where DG was reading over an essay on the relationships of various noble houses to the House of Gale. "I think I wrote that," he commented, looking over her shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure you did." DG sighed. "I'm never going to remember all this. The first big Ball is tonight, and I know Mother's going to want to introduce me to everyone and their uncle. Eventually, I'm going to insult somebody."

Ambrose patted her shoulder. "Everyone knows you were raised on the Other Side for your protection now. No one is going to hold it against you." He pointed a finger at the ornate family tree pictured on the page. "There you are, right there."

"Ugh." DG glanced at the notation, then rolled her eyes. "When I was a kid, I used to bug my parents all the time, wanting to know what DG stood for. And they always used to say, 'it stands for you, honey' and change the subject. But know that I know what it stands for…. I wish I was back to being ignorant."

Ambrose frowned a little at her. "You don't like your name? Your great great grandmother was one of the greatest Queens the O.Z. has ever seen. She was a Slipper, like your father, and she united the Zone, made it a great land."

"Hey, I'm as admiring of Granny as the next Zoner, ok? I just…. I'm not crazy about the way it's all… run together. Dorothigale. You people have some odd naming practices around here. I mean, Mom is literally Lavender Eyes! How original is that?" She sighed. "I guess, looking back, I liked being just DG. DG was whoever she wanted to be. She wasn't a princess, or a savior, or anything. She was a farm girl, an artist and mechanic, a sometime waitress….. a speed demon on a motorcycle…..and even when she ended up here, she had friends who were HER friends, not The Princess's Friends."

Ambrose smiled sadly. "We're still here, DG. We're still DG's friends." His voice was warm and sympathetic. He understood her unhappiness, wasn't insulted by what she'd said. He understood it.

"I know," she sighed, and leaned her head against his shoulder. Ambrose wrapped an arm around her. "But that's not…. entirely true anymore. Is it?"

Glitch sighed in turn. He'd spent some time wondering at Cain's motivations. He also took a good hard look at his own. Ambrose of the Third House was the second son of the Queen's first cousin. He'd been educated and trained to be a bodyguard and companion to a member of the First House. The selection was an honor, and a tacit approval of Ambrose as more than just companion, if such inclinations arose.

He now remembered happier times, creating clever little toys to amuse Azkadelia and Dorothigale when they were small. He also remembered the crushing feeling when Azkadelia changed, turning from the intelligent, charming, demure twelve annual old, to something strange and terrible, with an ancient intelligence staring out from formerly warm eyes. And then the death of DG! He had not been told that DG had been saved. All he knew was that instead of becoming a protector and companion to a princess, he became a devoted advisor and protector of a Queen, grieving for her dead child and her changed daughter, and suffering from the apparent abandonment of her husband.

Now, he had a hard time reconciling the remembered affection for Azkadelia, the terror of her rise to power as the Witch, and finally, his knowledge of her possession. It confused him to look at her now, and see the demure girl again, after fifteen annuals of horrors. His heart ached for her, but his mind was still wary.

And how he worried about DG, whom he loved dearly as his friend, going through every day carrying a weight of hurt, simply because she cared for a man who seemed capable of shutting off his own heart. Ambrose gave her a squeeze. The best he could do was support her and try to keep her busy. And give Cain a piece of his mind, no pun intended, when the Tin Man returned. If ever.

"Here, let me help you with this," he said, filling his voice with false cheer. "The First House is always the Queen and her direct descendants. The Second House is made up of the children of those members of the First House that do not inherit the Crown. The Third House is the children of the Second House. The Fourth House is their children. It's all based on their blood distance from the Queen. Now, the fringe zones that owe the Queen their allegiance all have their own nobility. These bloodlines…."

Cain rode hard northwest towards the old Resistance camp. Like every Tin Man, he'd been drilled hard during training in Outer Zone geography. Ask a Tin Man for directions, and he could give you at least four ways to get anywhere, depending on what your goals were: safety, expediency, etc. Most of the time, even "fast" was divided into two possible routes. There was fast, and then there was fastest but nearly suicidal. The latter almost always involved cutting through the fields of the Pappay in the central region of the Zone.

Throughout the whole journey to discover DG's past and defeat the Witch, Cain had known exactly where he was at all times. His mind made a map of their route, and remembered every stopping point on the way. He never wavered as he guided his horse through the trees.

Reining in with the suns high above, he slipped down from his mount and moved through the trees, his hat low and pistol in hand. He approached the tin suit from behind, keeping a careful eye out for traps and for tracks. He spotted the signs of at least three people recently near the suit.

Finally making his way around, he could see it. The suit was opened. Someone had popped the pins and freed that murderous son of a bitch.

"Oh DG," sighed the Queen. "You look lovely!"

The dress, an off-white, high-waisted number, complimented DG well enough. It had traceries of embroidered red peonies on it, with a square neckline that did not reveal too much. DG's hair was piled high on her head, a few stray curls left hanging to artfully define her long neck. She wore only the silver locket for jewelry, recovered from Akzadelia's study where Zero had handed it in. DG had been overjoyed to rediscover it, shortly after the Eclipse.

Akzadelia wore a similar dress, only slightly creamier in color, with green ivy instead of flowers. She didn't wear any jewelry at all. The Emerald was locked safely in a secure box in the heart of the palace, until time could be found for DG to return it to the Grey Gale's safe keeping.

The Queen's snow white gown had slightly more train, slightly more embroidery, and a lot more flash. Her dress had roses, and the green stems and red petals were enhanced here and there with emeralds and rubies sewn into the embroidery. A crimson sash embroidered in gold crossed from her shoulder to her hip. In addition, she wore a necklace of rubies, emeralds and diamonds, topping the ensemble off with the Crown of the Outer Zone, a confection of diamonds and something called 'star steel', a precious metal found only in the Zone.

DG smiled slightly at her mother's compliment. "We look very Imperial Court, don't we? Let's hope no crazy mystic monk tries to curse us all."

"I beg your pardon?" The Queen replied, confused.

"Never mind," DG sighed.

From behind them came a chuckle. "No Rasputins here," Ahamo assured his youngest. The Royal women had already gathered in the Queen's levee room. Ahamo was the last of the family to arrive. He moved to stand beside Lavender, with DG and Azkadelia flanking them. They all looked at themselves in the enormous mirror. "Although, I see your point." Ahamo's outfit of white pants and shoes, and a red uniform jacket well encrusted with gold braid, complemented his women perfectly. "We certainly look like the Romanovs, don't we?"

"The whom?" asked Azkadelia. She was often intrigued by the alternate world history her sister and father seemed to share.

"Royal family. Overthrown. All of them assassinated." DG explained tersely.

"DG." The Queen's voice was gently chiding. "No thoughts of disaster tonight. This is the first formal Ball with the entire Royal Family in attendance."

"Ever?" asked DG.

"Ever. And I expect that while you will find much of the proceedings dull, you will do your duty. You and Azkadelia will be free later in the evening to socialize."

DG nodded. It wasn't hard to sit through the formalities. She simply stared and nodded and let her mind wander. I wish you were here, she thought. Even though red really isn't your color.

Among others, Jeb Cain was in attendance. He'd served the Queen from the moment of the Eclipse. Now the Queen was elevating him to the rank of Colonel in the Royal Army. Again, DG wished she could tease and joke with someone who wasn't there.

She'd just about reached a zone-out level of zen-like proportions when the quartet approaching the dais where the Royal Family sat caught her attention. The lead two figures where a lovely woman, with rich dark brown hair, and dark eyes, and the whitest skin DG had ever seen, almost unnaturally white. Her escort was an enormous man of powerful build, also dark of hair and eye, with white skin. His huge bristling moustache made even Johnson's look wimpy. The two younger men, though still older than DG, behind them matched the first couple in coloring. All four wore garments of shimmering blue and green fabric, the lead couple in formal wear, the younger two in outfits like uniforms, all with magnificent mantles of some sleek dark fur DG didn't recognize.

"Chieftain Cullum. Lady Colleen. I'm so delighted to see you, so pleased you made the journey south!" The Queen actually rose to greet these to dignitaries, clasping their hands. "Are these your sons? My goodness, time has passed."

"Yes, my queen," replied the Chieftain, his voice a bass rumbling croak unlike anything DG had ever heard. "Our boys have grown up."

"You may not remember, so let me reintroduce them," said the Lady, her voice merely higher in tone, but otherwise alike to her husband's. "The elder, Culain," she indicated the young man to their right, "And the younger, Conor." Both young men made graceful bows.

"I'm so pleased to welcome you. Please, enjoy the Ball," said the Queen, indicating they could go if they chose. DG watched as they moved into the crowd. There seemed almost to be a faint scent about them, like cold winds and saltwater.

Hours later, DG managed to find the two young men standing together, watching the dancing. She herself had avoided all invitations to dance. When DG walked up to the men, they bowed together, almost identically. She supposed they were handsome. They both had long lean faces, and also sported moustashes, though neither as bristly nor large as their father's. The elder actually had a goatee, yet his facial hair was so fine, DG could still see the glow of his pale skin beneath it.

"Princess Dorothigale," the elder, Culain, said in greeting. "We are honored." His voice too had the same strange croaking quality.

"Where do you come from?" DG asked, curious about them.

"We live in the northern waters. Only once an annual do our people swim south, to bear our young. It is even more rare that we visit southern lands."

"Northern waters?" DG repeated, incredulous.

"Excuse me," interrupted the younger, Conor, sounding exactly like his brother. "I believe Her Highness was raised on the Other Side? Perhaps she does not recall that she numbers the Seal Folk amongst her people?"

DG's jaw dropped. In a whisper, she said, "You're Selkies."

Culain cocked his head questioningly. "I'm not familiar with the term."

"On the Other side, you're legends, myths. Your people are called Selkies." She stared at their mantles. "Are those…?"

Conor smiled. "Yes, we wear our hides at all times."

"Because, if you're parted from them…." DG shook her head. Meeting these people had brought back a little of the magic of the Zone for her.

The brothers both smiled, enchanted by DG's obvious delight. "Would you dance with me, Princess?" asked Culain.

Surprised, DG agreed. She thought she'd like to be friends with these nice young men. She danced a simple waltz with Culain, and a set dance with Conor. As Conor escorted her back to their place by the walls, he asked quietly, "The protector – does he live?"

"What?" DG was startled by the question.

Conor glanced around. "I do not mean to disturb you. I was concerned. I was on patrol, in the inlet where the Winter Palace stands. Long has that patrol been a quiet, lonely path, with the palace frozen over, abandoned. Then, as I approached, I felt the vibration of activity through the waters, like many footsteps on the ice. I waited, hoping perhaps to be hailed, given news of events on land, when with a tremendous crash, a man's body fell into the water, through the ice! I quickly caught him, and when I looked up, I could see his enemy. I waited, holding his head above water under an ice overhang, until those dressed in darkness departed. Then I heaved the man onto the ice. I could tell, your highness, that he was a Protector. The aura of this was all around him. He appeared to be wounded somehow, though no blood ran. I could not at that time transform safely, but left him by the entrance to the Palace, and hoped his own might aid him."

DG's hand slipped from Conor's arm during this tale, and she stared at him, dumbfounded. She'd never been told what happened to Cain in the Palace. All she'd known was that he came for her in the Witch's Tower.

"I fear…" Conor started, then in a most deferential voice, asked, "Did he not survive?"

"He did survive," DG answered, her voice hitching. "Thank you, thank you so much for saving him. I didn't… I didn't know…."

"My duty and honor, Highness. But, he is not here?"

"No. He's not. Not right now."

"Unfortunate. I would have liked to speak with him."

DG laughed mirthlessly. "Me too."

Now that she'd been seen dancing, she had no choice but to accept offers. She danced with several men she'd only met that night, until at last Glitch claimed her hand.

"C'mon, DG," he said cheerfully, still a brightly shining soul even with his mind and memories intact. "One thing that was never damaged was my excellent sense of rhythm!"

He steered her about the floor in swooping patterns that bore no resemblance to what anyone else was doing, and still managed to make them look graceful, as if everyone else on the floor had lead feet. DG found herself smiling despite herself, faintly happy to have a friend's arms around her.

But afterwards, her pleasure was dimmed when she saw Azkadelia standing alone. True, several courtiers were attempting to make polite talk, their strained expressions giving away their uncertainty about the elder Princess. DG couldn't recall seeing Azkadelia dance with anyone except their father all evening.

"Glitch?"

"Yes, DG?" The former advisor, now reinstated, made sure to address her by name at all times, at her request. It was a relief. Neither he nor Raw ever forgot they were her friends first.

"Would you do me a tremendous huge favor if I asked it?"

"Of course! Say the word."

DG hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I'm going to ask Raw to dance. Will you ask Azkadelia?"

Cain had wasted about two minutes cursing every imaginative swear word he could think of, including a few colorful ones he made up. He kicked the tin suit, bruised his toes, cursed some more, and then limped back to his horse.

He had to make a tough decision then. He could ride north, back to Central City, to warn them. However, it wasn't unusual for someone to get let out of a tin suit, and to be honest, he wasn't sure if perhaps someone had actually fetched Zero for some reason. Jeb knew what had been done with the Witch's henchman. He could have ordered Zero brought to the City for a trial and proper sentencing.

In addition, Cain didn't have anything to go on besides three words and the knowledge that a very dangerous man wasn't where Cain had left him.

His other option was to return to the realm of the unwanted. He could spy some more, try to pick up the threads of a possible conspiracy against the Royal Family. If he could track down one of the shady figures from the bar, follow them, listen in a bit more, maybe he could gather enough information to stop whatever plan might be in motion. He doubted he could infiltrate the conspirators, but he could try to track them. If he was really lucky, he could get whatever evidence he could, and get that to the proper authorities before anything happened to either princess.

Unfortunately, he thought as he spurred his horse back south towards the realm, he had a sinking feeling that he was already far behind, and he worried he knew exactly which princess was in danger.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure, Az." DG moved over, so her sister could sit with her on the loveseat and stare out over the City. Both girls wore robes over their nightgowns, the evening's finery put away, faces washed and hair brushed free.

Az clasped hands with DG, as they silently stared out the windows. After a few quiet minutes, Az said, "That was quite the extravaganza tonight, wasn't it?"

DG made a face. "It was like a twisted coming-out cotillion. Ick." She looked at Az. "Did you feel as much on display as I did?"

"Of course." Az sighed heavily. "In addition, I felt like people were expecting me to suddenly.. I don't know, hiss. Or kill someone. Or grow horns."

DG's giggle was the slightest bit hysterical. "And I'm supposed to be this tall shining goddess of a princess, instead of some short, underdeveloped weirdo who doesn't know Proper Behavior." Azkadelia laughed with her, and they sort of leaned into one another, both relieved from the stress of the first Royal Ball of the season.

"Did you have fun?" Az asked.

"No." DG answered flatly. "Did you?"

Az blushed. "A little."

DG eyed her sister. "Lemme guess. That five minutes you waltzed with Ambrose?"

Az turned an even deeper shade of red, and DG cried, "I knew it! What is going on there? There's something going on, and you won't tell me!"

Az shushed DG frantically. "It's just… it's just… when I was a little girl, before the witch … Ambrose isn't much older than us, DG. No more than ten years older than I, I think. And he was already brilliant when he came to Finacqua, and trained as well to be a Royal bodyguard. I think Mother meant for him to be my guard eventually, but oh, I was so young, and I quickly felt …. I don't know what you'd call it."

"You had a crush on him."

Az gave DG a puzzled look, but said, "Yes, that sounds right. I tried so hard to be mature and sensible when he was around. I studied everything I could get my hands on, trying to impress him with how intelligent I was." She sighed. "And then, the witch happened. And you know what she did."

DG squeezed her sister's hand. "You've been afraid all this time, that once he remembered fully everything that happened, Ambrose would hate you." Az nodded, sadly. "But he doesn't, you know." DG caught her sister's eye. "He really doesn't. He gets that you were possessed. He probably has a feeling of guilt somewhere that he wasn't able to save you himself. You said he was trained to be a bodyguard." DG paused. "That would explain what Cain was talking about once, when he said Glitch was a good man in a fight." She shrugged. "I'll bet, if you give him the chance, Glitch will apologize for not being smart enough to save you."

Az's jaw dropped. "Oh no! There wasn't anything he could have done!"

DG shrugged. "These protective types, I know how they are. They blame themselves for the dumbest things." DG trailed off, turning to stare out the window again, caught by a sudden thought.

But before she could articulate it, another knock came at the door. When invited, the visitor turned out to be Emily, bearing a tray of steaming mugs.

"I thought I might find you girls still up," she said, gently chiding. "It's been a long day, you must need to wind down." Setting the tray on a side table, she handed each princess a warm mug. "It's not cocoa, but it's the best I could do. More like warm chocolate milk, but that will help you sleep too."

"Thanks, Momster," DG said, taking a sip. Az murmured her thanks as well.

Emily eyed her two charges a moment, then said, "Well, if this isn't one of the sorriest sights in the Zone," her voice stern.

"What?" DG asked, surprised.

"Well, look at you. Both of you, pinin' away after males. DG, this isn't like you at all! Why, I recall it was you that asked that Todd Miggs out the first time. You used to go after what you wanted every time. Your Pop and I had to keep a tight rein on you, you know that now, but I have no doubt, had we let you, you'd've gone right after your dreams, grabbing at 'em with both hands." Emily turned to Az. "And you," she shook her head. "Poor dear, you're so scared people are gonna be mad at you, you're afraid to even ASK for forgiveness, and it's your right to ask, darling." She dropped a kiss on Azkadelia's forehead, the older princess frozen in shock. "And they ought to be forgiving you, every time, because it wasn't none of your fault. And the folks that matter, the folks that are smart enough, will see that. You had a whole world in your hands once, Azkadelia honey. But you're still afraid people are gonna look at you, and see the Witch, not the princess. Well, let me tell you something, both you girls listen up. Every woman has to have a little bit of a bitch inside, just to survive."

DG gasped at her nurture unit's language, shocked to her toes. But Emily just nodded, "Especially when dealing with men. Keeps your back straight, and your feet planted. You remember that."

She picked up the tray to leave, when DG jumped to her feet. "Momster –" she hugged Emily, then said, "Did Mother send you up here?"

"She might've," Emily dodged. "Or, I might've been already on my way up here with hot chocolate…"

DG grinned, the first honest grin she'd worn in a while, and hugged the nurture unit again. "Love ya, Momster," she whispered.

Emily smiled in return, including Azkadelia in its glow. "You girls get on to bed now. It's been a long day."

TBC