6

Before he reentered the realm, Cain stopped by the Prince Consort's former home. Ahamo had given Cain permission to use the underground house, giving him the location of the lakeside entrance, and the code to the combination lock that opened the hidden door from one of the underground town's back alleys.

When Cain stepped through that door, shutting it firmly behind him, he no longer looked like himself. Deliberately encrusted with dirt, in worn buckskins, he looked like a woodsman. A floppy fur hat covered his hair and hid his face. His gun was hidden in the coat's deep pocket, and instead on his hip he wore a wicked woodsman's knife. Fortunately, he did know how to use it.

Thus disguised, he spent the next three days making discreet contacts among those in the realm he knew to be useful. He skulked through the darkest corners, keeping his eyes and ears open.

He heard a little more. Word was that some former Longcoats didn't buy the apparent transformation of their mistress. Malcontents grumbled to one another about the "Outsider Princess", choosing to believe that she'd somehow imprisoned Azkadelia, fleeced the Queen, and it was only a matter of time before DG took power for herself. Most believed that the younger princess really had died years ago, and swore this outsider, this Slipper, must be an imposter.

"Better the bitch you know," muttered one criminal to his companions in Cain's hearing.

Four days after confirming Zero's escape from the tin suit, a company of twelve Royal soldiers appeared in the realm. Cain didn't recognize a one, so he didn't make contact right away. The Redcoats, as they were called, marched openly into the realm, crimson livery bright in the perpetual dimness. Their captain posted notices. By decree of the Queen, those that had relocated to the realm in fear of the Witch may return to their homes. All property would be restored if the claimant could find some evidence to support their claim. Testimonial from former neighbors would be acceptable. The soldiers were soon surrounded, answering questions, and soon a sort of festival atmosphere infected the realm.

Cain lurked on the fringes, watching for who looked delighted and happy, and who looked disgruntled at this new influence the Queen exerted in the formerly lawless realm.

Soon a whore, passing from man to man in search of a client, walked up to Cain. Normally, he was able to discourage their attentions with a glare. This woman was not discouraged. She walked right up to him, sidling close and smiling.

"Hey there, lonely man. Looking for some company?"

"Move on," Cain ordered shortly.

She smiled wider, running her hand up his arm to his shoulder. "I bear a message for you," she said quietly. "Tin man."

He stared at her. "From who?" He too kept his voice low.

She fluttered her lashes at him, looking like any other whore trying to score a client. "A little man with a big damned mouth."

Cain smirked. Almost as soon as he arrived in the realm all those weeks ago, he'd made contact with an Easterner that ran a fence operation. The munchkin Guildman was one of Ahamo's contacts. The creep hadn't had much nice to say about the Royals, and Cain had lifted him up by the throat, one handed, and snarled in his face, you're a little man with a big damned mouth, aren't you?

They'd been alone in a locked shop at the time, so Cain knew there was no way this whore could have known the phrase without being specifically told.

With a suggestive tilt to his head, Cain wrapped an arm around the whore's waist, pulling her closer, his other hand playing with the shoulder strap of her barely-there dress. "So, what's the message, huh?" He grinned, making it look like the two were merely haggling over price.

"The message is," she said, toying with his earlobe, "they've already moved out. Get going, Tin Man. They got word of the Queen's patrol early, moved up the operation."

Cain's expression never flickered, but his breath hissed through his teeth in frustration.

With a falsely rueful smile, the whore stepped away as if pulling herself from his grasp, saying in a normal voice, "Sorry, fella. No platinum, no play!" She flipped her hair, and sashayed off in search of a legitimate customer.

Cain waited a few minutes more, scanning the crowd to make sure no attention was paid to him before slipping off. It was the work of less than an hour to get back to Ahamo's house, change back into his own clothes, and get mounted up and galloping back north towards Central City.

"Az?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever thought about just telling him?"

Azkadelia stared at her sister, jaw hanging. "You mean, Ambrose?"

"Yeah." DG stood by the one large window in the library. Most of their days were spent there, studying, practicing magic. Tutor lectured DG and quizzed her for hours at a time. Azkadelia attended every session she could with DG, if the Queen didn't require her presence, for support, and to help herself remember the things her possession had set aside. Right now, they were alone in the room. Johnson and Azkadelia's new bodyguard, the aptly named Bullit, waited outside the door. Bullit was a former Long Coat, had been in the Royal Army before Azkadelia usurped the throne, and was of the attitude that he served the Royal Family, regardless of Witches or who actually wore the crown. Guermo had found him and sent him to Central City. Ahamo had questioned the man vigorously, but then signed off on the assignment.

"I mean," DG continued, still staring into the rainy grey city, "if being a princess didn't matter, and him being still sort of recovering didn't matter, and the whole cutting out his brain could be set aside, would you ever try just going up to him and saying something like 'I love you, can't we try this?'"

Az flushed deeply. "Well, first of all, the princess thing really doesn't matter."

DG finally turned to look at her, her expression intent. "What do you mean?"

"Oh Deeg. I know Mother has been parading every eligible young nobleman in front of us, but you know she wants us to marry for love, don't you?"

"So, we don't have to marry a noble? I thought there was a rule or something?"

Az shook her head. "Oh no. Father isn't a noble, though to a certain extent, Slippers are given a commensurate amount of respect. He and Mother, they fell in love at first sight. She's just… well, the nobility is our social circle. Generally, it's a little out of the ordinary for a princess to be friendly enough with someone not noble enough to fall in love."

DG nodded, and turned back to the window.

Az sighed quietly, understanding exactly the impact of that information on her sister. She wondered if Mr. Cain knew that. She eyed DG a moment, and then asked her sister, "What about you, DG? I know…. I do know how you feel about him. Would you consider it?"

DG straightened her back, and said, "At this point, I'm seriously considering it."

Az hid a smile. "Me too."

If simply language could change the air around you, then the air around Wyatt Cain would be blue. He even toyed with the idea he was under some sort of Curse of Bad Luck. First, his horse threw a shoe. Even though he did manage to find a blacksmith to re-shoe the animal, the daily deluge of rains began. He didn't dare ride in this: he couldn't see, the horse couldn't see, it would take one wrong step and the animal would go down with a broken leg, and who knew what sort of injury Cain would get being thrown at a gallop.

He had to wait until the rain stopped. This could put him a full day behind the conspirators. Granted, they would have had to hole up during the daily rain as well, but Cain had no information about what sort of transportation they might be using. If horses, he wouldn't be falling too far behind. But if they had a van….

The blacksmith let him wait out the rains in the barn, which backed onto the forge. It was hot, it was humid. Cain was sweating through his shirt. And his incessant pacing as he cursed the rain, praying for it to end so he could get back on the road, and back to DG's side, wasn't helping either.

"Tell me again why we're going out?" DG asked, putting the finishing touches on her up-do.

"The production is being put on especially in our honor." Azkadelia said, sliding the evening gloves up her arms.

"A production of Gillikinese Opera. And am I going to like it?"

Azkadelia shrugged. "I don't know. It can be fun, in a way. They use masks and flags and it's very colorful. Most people who don't appreciate it complain about the atonal melodies. But if you can accept music that sounds as if half the notes are missing, then you can learn to love it."

DG sighed. "I'm going to hate this, aren't I?"

Az smiled at her chagrin. "Probably. But you have to go. We're the guests of honor, and it's the story of Dorothy Gale. It would be a horrible insult to skip it."

DG pulled on her gloves. "Mother and Father don't have to go," she grumbled, but then there was a knock on the door.

It opened to reveal Ambrose, who smiled broadly at them both. "Ah, ladies! You both look absolutely lovely." Azkadelia blushed at his praise. DG eyed her sister, wondering when this secret whatever it was would finally be out in the open.

"Are you going with us?" DG asked.

"Alas, no. Although, I seem to remember liking Gillikinese Opera a great deal. At any rate, I have some things to work on here. I just stopped in because Johnson asked me to pass on that the car has arrived, and they're ready whenever Your Highnesses are prepared to leave."

Cain finally gave up pacing and took to shredding bits of hay. The rain wasn't letting up. At this rate, even if the rains did stop, it would be too dark to ride on. He'd have to wait until sunrise.

He gritted his teeth in frustration. Every instinct in him screamed that something was about to happen.

DG normally enjoyed the motor vehicles of the Outer Zone. They didn't run on gasoline, but on these really magnificent little steam engines, and she thought, if she could only get the technology over to the Other Side, there would be some serious changes. She still longed to get her hands on the O.Z. version of a motorcycle, but she hadn't thought of an excuse yet.

But the Other Side wasn't her problem anymore. Now she was Princess Dorothigale of the First House of Gale, and she had a whole different array of problems. The immediate one facing her this moment was how to get into the sleek, black, apparently vintage to her point of view, royal limousine without either snagging her dress or falling on her face. She took hold of her skirts and eyed the open car door.

At that moment, Johnson became her new best friend. "Allow me, your Highness," he said smoothly, and held her elbow to balance her while she wrangled the dress.

Finally seated inside, she sighed in relief. Though immediately, she realized if she'd ruined her dress, she could have begged off attending the opera.

Johnson also assisted Azkadelia, who thanked him prettily. The princesses were seated in the forward facing seats. Then Johnson and Bullit sat opposite them, right by the vehicle's doors.

"Alright, let's go," Johnson called to the driver, knocking on the glass that separated the driver from the seating area to let him know they were all ready. The car pulled smoothly out of the Royal enclosure, which was covered from the rain, and into the deluge of the uncovered streets.

DG watched the passing scenery out the window. Anyone who had to be outside wore long coats, with hats and umbrellas, or cloaks with deep hoods. Every day, the rains came down hard, sheeting, cold rains. In the north, she was told, it snowed heavily. The rains would only last for another few weeks. Then the Outer Zone would only get intermittent light rains throughout the rest of the year. Or rather, annual, she reminded herself.

They pulled up to the theatre, and DG was surprised to see the number of people waiting on the streets. A veritable throng awaited the arrival of the Princesses. The event had apparently been well publicized. The car slowed and came to a stop. Everyone on the street turned to the car, and started waving and cheering expectantly.

Johnson frowned, and he and Bullit exchanged a look. "Not secure at all," Johnson grumbled.

"There's a rear entrance. It'll be through the backstage area, but that's better than out in the open with that crowd," Bullit suggested.

"Good call," Johnson agreed. Knocking on the glass again, he ordered. "Around back. Rear theatre door." Obedient, the driver pulled the car away from the front of the theatre, leaving the disappointed cries of the crowd behind.

Up the street, and the car made its first right around the block. DG wasn't paying much attention, until both Johnson and Bullit started muttering. The driver apparently missed the second right down the alley behind the theatre.

"Hey!" Johnson knocked on the glass. "You missed it!"

Continuing down the side street, the car made a smooth left into a much less respectable looking alleyway and area. Then, in a spot with poor lighting, it came to a stop.

DG grabbed Az's hand. The princesses exchanged looks, both pale and worried now.

They felt the door to the driver seat open. Bullit, on the driver's side, made an angry grunt, and flung open his door. Almost immediately, he was yanked out of the car!

Johnson went for his guns, but before he could draw, a hand holding a D-gun appeared in the doorway, and shot Johnson in the head.

DG and Azkadelia screamed as blood, brains, and skull fragments sprayed them. Johnson's body slumped forward. The other door was yanked open as they heard additional shots. Rough hands reached into the car, dragging the princesses apart and out into the pouring rain.

"AZ!" DG shrieked, kicking and flailing and trying to make life as hard as possible for their assailants. Then someone punched her hard across the face, knocking her to the pavement. Her teeth snapped together, and her vision blurred. Looking up, she saw a face she'd hoped she never see again.

Zero.

He sneered at her, then turned away. Other hands pulled her up again, and through her tears she could see men holding Azkadelia as well. Zero walked over to Azkadelia, stepping nonchalantly over the body of Bullit. Reaching out, he ran his fingers down the side of Azkadelia's face.

"You presume?" Azkadelia snarled, her voice the coldest DG had heard it since her sister managed to tear herself away from the Witch's possession. Immediately, DG understood Az's approach. This man had been her underling, no matter how insane he might be now. If Az could convince him that she still had control, there was hope. DG could feel Az's fear, like a tingling in her nerve endings, but the elder sister was hanging in there.

"Sorceress," Zero greeted her. "I'll presume. And you'll thank me for it, just as soon as we get rid of whatever spell this other-sider bitch has put on you." He stepped closer, looming over her in a way that was obviously suggestive and completely threatening. "You're going to be very, very grateful, I think," Zero said, trailing his fingers along Azkadelia's throat.

The elder Princess kept her chin high, her eyes fixed on his, full of the darkest hatred.

Undeterred by her expression, Zero ordered her captors, "Put her in the car." Only then did DG notice the two other vehicles in the alley, one a large black car, the other a black van.

"Az! AZ!" DG shouted as the men pulled her sister away. But even then she knew Az couldn't give away her position. DG struck out instinctively with her magic, managing to toss the man on her left away suddenly. Turning, she slapped her palm against the man on the right, shoving with more than just physical strength. He staggered back, but then another man punched DG hard in the kidney from behind. She cried out, falling forwards. The man she'd just shoved kicked her when she hit the ground.

"Enough!" ordered Zero. "We need her alive, you idiots! Tie her up, throw her in the van." He paused, then added, "Give her a face full of vapors. That ought to keep her quiet."

DG still struggled weakly as Zero got into the car with her sister and it drove away. The men handling her tied her arms behind her, tied her feet together. They put a gag around her mouth as soon as she started screaming at the top of her lungs, hoping someone would hear. But of course, they'd chosen the site of the assault well, and no one came to investigate.

Tossing her into the windowless back of the van like a sack of potatoes, one man twisted the knob on a vapor canister and sprayed it right in her face. DG couldn't help but to inhale the delirium-inducing gases. She felt her head get woozy, and suddenly her whole body felt like it was spinning and spinning.

Trying to muster some control, she reached for her magic, but it slipped through her fingers like water. With the last shreds of power and consciousness she could find, she projected a mental cry as loudly as she could.

CAIN!

In a barn halfway to Central City, Cain sat straight up from where he'd been dozing on some hay bales.

"I'm coming, kid," he yelled, and ran for his horse.

TBC