"I have told you everything you need to know about your Aunt Katherine, DG. I assure you." Lavender cajoled the image of her daughter on the small, round screen, adding with a sigh, "I am not even sure why that would be relevant in any case, as it is truly ancient history."
"Mother," DG's voice rang out skeptically, "that thing wanted something that was linked to our bloodline. Are you sure it didn't have to do with her? Or are there more secrets you're keeping from me?"
Lavender's eyes moved to the ceiling as she huffed in exasperation. "I cannot see how this could have anything to do with your aunt. What happened to her was a terrible tragedy, but it was hardly something to be ashamed of. People simply did not talk about such things in those days. It was considered extremely bad taste, but besides her illness and death, no. There are no other secrets that I am aware of." She began to pace, and DG noted that as she did, the Queen began to chew on her own lip as she puzzled out the mystery within her own mind. "It simply does not make any sense," she muttered as if to herself, stopping when her eyes returned to DG's image and she stated firmly, "There is certainly more to uncover still. Ardat Lilith did not, to my knowledge, collaborate with anyone else the last time he was caught, and he certainly did not willingly seek out Daughters of Light."
"Unless Zero promised him something," DG grumbled darkly.
The Queen paused thoughtfully at the mention of Damon Zero, her eyes looking oddly far off and pained. Given how strikingly like DG she appeared in that moment, it was hard to miss the look of remorse that flashed across her face, and DG leaned forward, hopeful that at last, that her mother might tell them something of importance.
"Mother?" DG prompted her, causing the Queen's expression of grief to clear and become almost alarmed.
The Queen shook her head emphatically, as if dislodging an errant thought, dismissing whatever it was that had given her pause with a wave of her hand, while her eyes continued to bely the fear that had come to rest there with that thought. "We are wasting time," the Queen resumed with an edge of irritation, "the contingent I sent to survey the mines has come up empty-handed. There have been no further disappearances there, which means that we are no closer to determining where our enemies are operating from, nor do we have any idea of what their end game is."
When DG sat back to huff loudly, Wyatt took the opportunity to cut in, pulling the Farnsworth partially out of DG's hands as he asked, "Has Artie had any luck linking the cases in Center Munch with the miners yet?"
Lavender shook her head. "No," she replied firmly, "which is why you must make haste to assess this latest crop of victims. We simply do not have enough information yet to link them. The past cases could not be matched with any of the missing miners, nor could they be confirmed as any other missing person within the OZ, but I am certain they are all connected to the creature and by proxy, his cohorts. To continue whatever charade he is playing at, Ardat Lilith uses a great deal of magic, and for that he must gather a great deal of energy. We must stop this feeding frenzy he seems to be on, but it is also my hope that if you can determine where he is obtaining his victims, you may not only find him, but those he is working with."
"I think we're getting closer to figuring it out, Mother." DG offered hopefully.
Lavender's expression did not soften, however, and she replied in a wavering voice, "I am afraid so, my darling, but be careful. It is clear that they may want you to."
"We redoubled the night watch once we figured it out last night, your Majesty, so I don't think Ardat Lilith will be making any more visits the way he did before," Wyatt offered, adding, "We also assigned a guard to Raw, since he seems unaffected by Lilith's magic. On that note though, is there any chance that we might be able to put a few more viewers on our team soon? I don't think Raw can sleep with one eye open for too long."
The Queen sighed heavily, "I have sent word, Wyatt, but I do not expect an answer very quickly. Master Raw's people are extremely reclusive, and remote besides. It may take some time before we can expect a reply, and even longer before one of his clan joins you in Munchkinland. I am afraid you must weather this storm without additional resources for now."
"Yes, your Majesty," Wyatt replied gravely.
Before either could close the screen, Lavender called them back, "DG, Wyatt, a moment more." Wyatt opened the case fully once more, and Queen continued to speak, her voice no longer lyrical, but grave and quiet. "You know that the longer this continues, the greater the peril for the Outer Zone, both from within, and without. What you may not know is that if the Otherside becomes aware of our land, the damage to the magical fabric of our world would be irreparable. Despite these facts, my greatest concern is for you both, my children. Ardat Lilith is a cunning and vengeful enemy, and his memory is long. I have thwarted many of his schemes in the past, and I suspect that he would not hesitate to get to me through you. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to either of you, so please be careful, and trust no one. You are being watched."
With that last, chilling warning, the Queen's image became black once more, indicating to them both that she'd severed the connection. DG frowned deeply at the metal case shared between them, and she retrieved it fully from Wyatt to close it with an emphatic 'click' before handing it back, her displeasure still apparent when her eyes met his. Wyatt shared a skeptical expression with his wife as he took the case from her and shoved it into his inner coat pocket, then sighed deeply as he adjusted his coat and hat and shifted on the log they were sharing.
"I don't think mother is telling us everything," DG grumbled darkly.
Wyatt shook his head minutely and winced out at the sight of their party packing their horses a few yards away while he considered the thoughts in his own mind. "I caught that," he finally murmured back.
DG sprang from her seat with an exasperated groan, and she paced before Wyatt, clearly agitated by both the events of the prior evening and her mother's reluctance to be completely honest. "I hate this, Wyatt. I feel like we're shooting in the dark here, and instead of giving us something that might help, she just pulls the wool over my eyes more."
When DG continued to pace, passing just before Wyatt's feet, he took the opportunity, and reached out to grasp her hand before he arose to stand before her.
"Darlin," his voice rumbled through her as he spoke in a deep, soft timbre, "while I'm not going to argue with you about your mother, that's not what's got you upset." He paused briefly to place his hands on her forearms, and his sharp eyes peered into hers as if searching her very soul. "What is it, Dorothy? What's really got you upset?"
DG's eyes were like glass as she stared back into her Tin Man's eyes, and her heart thundered in her throat while her stomach churned unhappily. The memories of Ardat Lilith's voice, seemingly prying into her very soul, had haunted her in her dreams the night before and kept her on constant edge. While she would usually want to tell Wyatt everything, this felt somehow different. She felt almost unclean when the mere memory of his hands on her skin sent her heart racing, and she feared the part of her that almost wanted him to return – to continue the illicit sensations he'd aroused within her. She feared Wyatt's reaction, and she feared not only what it meant for the OZ if Ardat Lilith was successful, but what he was potentially destroying between the two of them in the process.
She could not keep this to herself however much she feared Wyatt's response, and she hoped that by speaking her truth aloud, she would somehow undo the spell the demon had cast on her. "Wyatt," she finally spoke, her voice cracked and rough, "I'm afraid that if I see Ardat Lilith again, I won't be able to resist him." When Wyatt's eyes did not leave hers, and his expression remained calm and understanding, she continued her explanation, her voice wavering like a leaf in the wind. "I don't know what kind of power he had over me, but I didn't want him to stop until Raw woke me up. I'm sorry."
DG's eyes dropped to her feet, and she sniffled. Wyatt maintained his stance, however, and his brow furrowed with worry and compassion as he stood there, puzzling out what to say. There it was – the reason she'd recoiled from him the night before, and as much as it troubled him to see her so distraught, he was also somewhat relieved. Before Raw had reordered his memories the night before, he'd wondered – no, worried – that DG was angry with him for how he'd acted in the morning. He had promised her once that he would never shut her out again, and he'd broken that promise, so it only seemed logical that she might be upset. His relief was trivial compared to the battle that Dorothy was apparently fighting within her own mind, however, and his heart twisted painfully.
"Dorothy," his voice called her back softly as his finger hooked under her chin, and he pulled her face up to his, "you didn't want this to happen, and I know that. You didn't do anything wrong."
"But Wyatt -"
Wyatt stopped her by gently placing his open palm just before her lips, and he stepped cautiously closer to her before he continued to speak, his voice soft and soothing, but emphatic when he interrupted her. "He took your willpower away from you, from me, but it's not your fault." His hand traveled softly down her arm then, and he gently grasped the wrist the demon had favored, holding up between them when he reminded her gently, "Besides, you did resist him. Remember?"
"Well, not until Raw woke me up. What if he's not there next time?" DG replied in a near-pleading tone.
Tears were now streaming down DG's cheeks, and the look in her eyes was one of fear and grief. It tore at Wyatt that he'd failed to protect her, and what was more, the fear that he'd fail again left him similarly chilled. Despite this, he knew instinctively that DG was more capable of combating the demon than even he was and bolstering her was more important now than alleviating his own worry, so with a slow exhale, he slid a hand around her waist and drew her to him, letting his other hand stroke her hair and back while he kissed her forehead.
"We'll figure this out Princess. You have my word, but no matter what happens, don't forget that you will always have my heart. Nothing you or anyone else could do will ever change that, you hear me?" The Tin Man murmured against her forehead.
DG had felt almost wooden until Wyatt had uttered those words, and in that moment, her body finally relaxed, and her arms snaked around his body. Wyatt could feel her small body mold itself to his while it shook and shuddered, causing him to hold her tighter still. Standing thus, the pair put to rest the doubt sown by their enemies and restrengthened their joint resolve. This was just another in a line of challenges set before them, and like those that came before, they would defeat this latest as well – they just needed to remain strong together.
After a few moments passed quietly, with the pair holding tight to each other, DG finally stepped back and took a deep breath, while Wyatt gently wiped an errant tear from her cheek. "Are you going to be alright, Dorothy?" He gently interrogated her, his eyes searching and worried while she looked away down the hill at their gathering party.
DG returned her eyes to his and she smiled weakly and nodded, "Yeah Tin Man. Just wondering what stick to take with me to Center Munch."
When Wyatt laughed a deep, hearty laugh, DG's smile brightened and she stepped forward to place a hand on his chest, causing the Tin Man to hum happily while his arms once more slipped around Dorothy's small waist. DG's eyes, though still red with tears, were now a brilliant, tempting blue once more, and she smiled demurely as she reached up on her toes to meet her Tin Man. Their kiss was long and soft; a way of reacquainting their hearts after time apart, and in it was all the love and longing that had been absent in the empty promises whispered into their beings by the demon who'd threatened their souls. Where Ardat Lilith's spell twisted and pulled at a DG's being, removing her willpower, and replacing it with a dark, unsatiable addiction, Wyatt's attentions to the princess were just the opposite. Every pass of his hands upon her cheeks, her neck, and her lower back seemed to soothe a deep pain within her, and his kisses were like a tonic that restored her strength. She was almost disappointed when his mouth parted from hers, and she huffed up at him while he twirled one of her stray curls in his finger.
"Are you ready to go, Mrs. Cain?" Wyatt asked DG tentatively, his warm eyes watching his wife carefully while he fixed her with a light-hearted smirk.
DG huffed again as her eyes roved over to the party of horses down the hill and she winced as she considered her answer. Her eyes became suddenly faraway, and she muttered, almost to herself, "Why use travel storms at all? It seems to me that if it was only about drawing us into a trap, he wouldn't bother ambushing us on the other side of the county. He'd just wait for us to come to him. Where's he going then?"
"That's a good question, Princess." Wyatt cut in, drawing DG out of her thoughts, "and I think we might get a better picture in Center Munch, don't you?" DG nodded firmly, and the pair set off down the hill without another word, now completely focused on the task at hand.
Unlike the day before, Wyatt remained close to DG and Raw. His horse sauntered easily beside theirs, and although his eyes were kind and his conversation light-hearted, both Raw and DG could sense that the Tin Man was still just as attentive now as he had been before. Periodically, the easiness in his demeanor would harden, and his eyes would shift from their focus of the pair of them to the land around them: Whenever an errant bird or stray animal flickered into his peripheral vision, his head jerked away to watch it closely, as if trying to anticipate oncoming danger. This was somewhat of a challenge though, since dark, thick groves of trees flanked the western side of the road, and farmland with tall, waving corn filled the other. A whole army could hide in either of those places, and neither Wyatt nor his men would have known until they jumped out to greet them. Fortunately for them however, the landscape yielded no hidden threats, and in fact, they had a very short distance to go before they reached the outer edges of Center Munch itself.
While amongst the tall, waving corn, DG almost felt as if she could be back in Kansas. The earthen smell, married with the near-overwhelming humidity emanating from the wide green leaves reminded her of hot summers spent riding bikes on Kansas blacktops – all for the sheer pleasure of the breeze she'd feel on her damp skin when she got up to speed on the sweltering road that led into town. Except when the corn fields finally opened to reveal civilization, it wasn't the dusty central strip of Hilltop, Kansas she saw stretching out in the valley below them, but the quaint, storybook town of Center Munch. Where Hilltop's personality was derived from the rough, pioneering explorers that dared to venture into the American West, resulting in buildings seemingly carved of tough limestone and brick in neat, grid-like patterns, Center Munch was the opposite. More like a provincial old-world village, Center Munch's ancient, cobbled buildings were more organic in the way they sprang up like unique little toadstools. The streets too, seemed to be carved from the very ground, and meandered in endless looping paths. These narrow stone streets seemed to have been created by need, rather than by some master plan, and these and its buildings all hugged the shores of a massive, crystalline lake that glittered in the sun like a brilliant gem. It was truly an enchanting place, and had they been coming here for any other purpose, DG might have been tempted to wander its streets – discovering all sorts of old magic and mischief – but now was not the time, and she sighed internally.
Where Wyatt's mood would have been similarly darkened, the outer edge of the long rows of cornfields offered him another sight that made a wide grin spread on his face, and a laugh to tumble freely from his lips. He didn't even need to say a word, for DG had seen it too: a glint of silver from the chest of a man sitting atop the wooden fence-line, chewing on the end of a piece of grass and smiling as bright as the sun as they approached.
Wyatt grinned briefly at DG before he spurred his horse, crying out "Jeb!" excitedly as he shot past them all and only stopping when he'd just reached the young man, who hopped down from the fence the moment his father's voice rang out.
Wyatt had barely dismounted from his horse before he was meeting Jeb in an exuberant embrace; the two men hugging like they hadn't seen each other in ages and laughing happily. When they separated, Wyatt stepped back to examine his son, his blue eyes both happy and exacting as they examined every inch of his son's appearance. He'd traded in his royal army uniform since the last time DG had seen him, and now wore a smart, navy suit of cotton tweed, with a shining star emblazoned with the words "Center Munch" around its rounded border. No longer a boy, but a man, Jeb had filled out in the past few annuals too, and to this healthy amount of weight, he'd also added muscle and a glint of wary experience, which sparkled in his eyes as he allowed his father to examine him like a worried mother hen.
"You doin' alright kid? Tin Man life treating you well?" Wyatt asked, barely hiding his concern.
Although Jeb rolled his eyes, he grinned despite himself, shrugging when he replied, "Well, it's nothing like chasing after DG, but it's alright."
Wyatt nodded in understanding, and stepped aside as DG approached, smiling while DG sprang into her own embrace. Having greeted them both, Wyatt continued his line of questioning, finding his presence so far outside the city somewhat concerning. "Your last report said you might be workin' a desk when we got here. I thought I might not see you. Did something change that I need to be worried about?"
Jeb scoffed under his breath and replied sardonically, "Depends on what you're referring to, Dad. If you're asking about whether or not the assignment you gave me is going well, I'd have to say it is. I mean, I got a little ribbed by the other Tin Men at first about being the great Wyatt Cain's son when I joined up, but I think I've lived up to your reputation pretty well. The Tin Men have pretty well accepted me, and the chief seems to trust me. Now if you're talking about getting an edge on the Munchkinland Security Service, well that's another matter."
"What do you mean?" DG asked curiously.
Jeb's thumbs went into the belt loops of his slacks, and he huffed to the sky. "Well, you'll find out soon enough, but let's just say that when word got out in the force that a contingent of the Queen's men were makin' their way down the brick route, my commanding officer thought it might be a good idea to intercept you before one of those goons got to you first."
Wyatt huffed unhappily through his nose and his jaw hardened. "What's the score kid?"
"It's getting worse around here, Dad. The Tin Men are doing everything they can to keep the peace, but what Munchkinland Security will let us do is down to not much more than being glorified security guards. Chief is so pissed that he's given me a few more sets of eyes to help me keep an eye on this so-call security service, but it's getting harder to just stand by and watch."
Wyatt's eyes darkened, and he shifted his feet in the grass while he glanced at the line of horses and men waiting for them not too far off. Although trusting of his men overall, a sense of uneasiness seemed to pass from father to son during that brief interaction, telling him that now was not the time for this kind of conversation. Before turning back to his son and wife, he removed the hat from his head and winced up at the suns while he scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, weighing the possibilities in his mind and deciding whether to have it all out now, or wait for a time when they might have a little more privacy.
When he'd returned the hat to his head, Wyatt's eyes peered cautiously from Jeb to the company around them and he asked cautiously, "Something tells me there's a lot more to all of this than you're saying, Jeb. You think we might talk about this somewhere a bit more private?"
Jeb smirked, knowing that once again, there was little that his father missed. "Sure Dad, I just gotta get you past the checkpoint, and we should be okay. Where you headed?"
"The hospital," DG cut in, adding, "the council sent us to look into all the weird travel-storm victims that keep popping up near the Eastern Guild."
Jeb glanced from DG to Wyatt, his curiosity clearly peaked. With an approving and somewhat appraising nod, he folded his arms and grinned. "Well, that's convenient, given that Munchkinland Security has been keepin' me out of there ever since this all started. Couldn't get anywhere near those people that the munchkins brought in. Claimed it wasn't a Tin Man matter. Would you mind if I tagged along?"
Wyatt shook his head and clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, while an impish twinkle sparkled in his eyes. "Not a chance that I'd let you get away kid, we've got catchin' up to do, after all."
There was a kind of mischief glittering in Wyatt's eyes that only Jeb and DG could read, and Jeb grinned back at his father, knowing that his father's version of "catching up" had very little to do with anything other than getting to the bottom of the puzzle presented by the Munchkinland Security Service. Given that Jeb was similarly bullheaded when presented with a confounding opponent, the arrival and his father gave him a unique opportunity, for perhaps a company of the Queen's men, a general, and a Daughter of Light could do what he could not alone. At the very least, he suspected that there might be some entertaining fireworks if they interfered in his father's investigation, and this by itself might yield interesting results.
"Ready when you are then, Dad," Jeb laughed, glancing down at the city gates in the distance when he added, "but why don't you and I lead the pack. If they see a local Tin Man escorting you in, they'll be less likely to stop you."
"That'd be good son, seein' as we don't exactly have the time to be standin' around." Wyatt answered. He then turned to DG and reached down to place a soft kiss on her lips before he straightened up and asked, "I know that it's no secret that we're comin', but I don't want to give these goons any reason to get excited. Do you think you could hang back with Raw, Darlin? Maybe give yourself a little bit of a glamor so they don't recognize you right off the bat?"
DG shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure," she shook herself from her head to her shoulders then, and in doing do, her long dark tresses fell away, leaving boy-short dirty blonde hair. When she opened her eyes, they were a deep, soulful brown, and she grinned at the pair of them as she asked, "will this do?"
Where Wyatt smiled approvingly, Jeb could only shake his head. "I don't think I'll ever get used to watching you do stuff like that, DG," he scoffed in amazement.
Wyatt's hand reached out to touch her hair, and he smiled as he answered softly, "Looks good, Darlin." HIs eyes darkened somewhat, and he asked cautiously, "How long do you think you can pull that off?"
DG could tell from the tentative tone to Wyatt's voice that he was still worried about their visitor from the night before, and she could see a glint of hope in his eyes as he examined her appearance. Although she hadn't done much more than making a few minor cosmetic changes, she'd clearly done enough that Wyatt thought she might be easily concealed. It was unfortunate then that she knew the effects were temporary, and she sighed when she grumbled darkly, "I haven't been able to hold it longer than about thirty minutes at a time, Wyatt, and I'll need a real breather after it's worn off. If that didn't put enough of a dampener on things, I probably won't be able to hold it at all if I have to do any healing at the hospital. Both take too much energy by themselves."
Wyatt huffed through his nose and nodded curtly. "Well, we'll just have to be sure to get you to the hospital quick. I don't want you to make any costume changes where we might have an audience. Got it?"
DG held Wyatt's worried eyes a moment more while she nodded in agreement. Wyatt, meanwhile, reached forward to leave a soft kiss on her forehead, murmuring as he separated from her once more, "Keep your head down while we go through the checkpoint, alright Princess? I'm going up front with Jeb and try to get this show on the road."
DG nodded again, biting her lip as she watched Jeb and Wyatt turn and stride to the front of their company, with Wyatt leading his horse by the reigns. The pair of them strolled ahead of the rest, acting as if they had not a single care in the world, while DG quickly disappeared into the background of horses and men traveling behind them, her face still reading with worry. She shook the look of concern from her face as the horses slowed, however, and took a steadying breath as the men crowded around her and Raw. Even from her position, DG had no trouble seeing the outer gates of the city; wrought iron and reaching as high as a building. Although ordinarily parted wide to admit the various farmers and traders that made up the lively economy of the city, they'd been closed regularly since the trouble started in Munchkinland, and this caused the Queen's party to stop abruptly. The noise made by the horses, stamping and snorting impatiently on the golden brick road, made it difficult to hear what was being said at the head of the group, and DG craned to hear. Her curiosity nearly got the better of her, except Raw reached over and grasped her hand, grumbling darkly as he explained, "Raw help you hear. No need to stretch neck, show face."
DG didn't need any further explanation, since the effect had been immediate. It was like someone had magically bugged Wyatt and had inserted the speaker inside her brain, for the moment Raw's hand touched her wrist, she could hear everything with sparkling clarity.
"What brings you to Center Munch, Mister -" a gruff, unfriendly voice interrogated Wyatt.
Jeb's voice cut over the other man's, correcting him as if he was speaking to an insolent kid, "That's General Cain you're talkin' to, Captain Sykes."
"Should that mean somethin' to me?" Sykes spat back sarcastically.
"It means my business is none of yours. Not unless you'd like one of my friends back there to go throw you in a jail cell." Wyatt's voice thundered, dripping with anger, "where's your commanding officer, Captain?"
"Uh, not here in Center Munch, sir. Sorry sir. Just doin' what I been told." Sykes blustered nervously as DG heard the unmistakable creak of metal hinges.
Even from her position, she could see the gates opening, and as they did, Sykes continued to ramble on nervously, "Don't need to know nuthin' else. Munchkinland Security'll be glad to hear that you've come. Enjoy your visit, General."
With that, the cue of horses began to march on again, and DG made to study her horse's neck as they passed the man called Sykes and his half a dozen rough looking cohorts, clad in smart, futuristic uniforms of forest green trimmed in shining silver. Even as DG averted her gaze, she could tell by the man's posture that he was still smarting from Wyatt's chastising remarks, and his almost goonish looking expression was oddly juxtaposed by the clean angle of the beret on his head, and the crisp lines of his new trench coat. He hung his head and glared under his bushy eyebrows at them all as they passed, his shoulders hunched and his hands clenched, certainly appearing unhappy that he'd been talked down to in such a way and looking more like a thug than soldier all the while. He hadn't noticed DG though, in all his angry glaring, and DG breathed a small sigh of relief as they left the threatening-looking contingent of guards behind.
The City of Center Munch was, itself, much more inviting than the men guarding its gates. The wide, cobbled road leading into the city was lined with vibrant planters overflowing with violets, and curbside vendors dotted the sidewalks; their brilliant banners and friendly smiles luring pedestrians to their many wares and delectable treats. It might have been easy, as they traversed further into the city's center, to forget about the unfriendly Munchkinland Security, except every furtive glance from one of the city's inhabitants was a stark reminder that things were not as they should be. Glances from curious locals were expected, but added to this, a certain fear lurked behind the eyes of those they passed, as if the locals were expecting some kind of trouble. When the identity of the party passing was recognized as the Queen's army, curiosity and fear were often replaced by relief, and this happened so frequently that Cain's ire was quickly raised to a boiling point.
"After this is over, Jeb, we're going to have to have a talk about that Munchkinland Security problem," Cain muttered under his breath as they approached the steps of the hospital, where two more Munchkinland Security guards stood like hulking signposts on either side of the doors.
Jeb didn't need to answer. He'd known how his father would react the moment he arrived in Center Munch – he just wished he had more to report. Munchkinland Security's bad attitudes weren't enough of an issue to warrant a full take-down of the organization, but there was certainly more to them that they displayed to the rest of the OZ. He could feel it. He just hadn't worked out exactly what it was yet, and he suspected that his father would instantly be of the same mindset. What he hadn't anticipated was the near total about-face from the Munchkinland Security guarding the double doors of the hospital. Before, when Jeb had tried to enter the hospital, intent on investigating the curious origins of the forgetful few brought in by the Eastern Guild, he'd been turned away – being told in less-than friendly tones that he should find somewhere else to be. Now, the two men guarding the doors wore almost relieved smiles as their party approached and seemed to wait with bated breath for the Cain men to drawn nearer to them.
The larger of the two guards, looking as if he'd been stuffed into the uniform that was so new looking that it nearly gleamed, smoothed out the front of his green coat as he peered down at the party gathering at the foot of the steps, his eyes roaming the faces of those dismounting from their horses. He had a gruff, hungry look in his eyes, as if he was looking for someone in particular, and he seemed to struggle with whatever sense of decorum he had within him as he waited with near impatience to speak with the General giving orders at the foot of the steps.
Cain was no fool and had sensed the man's eyes on him. It was because of him, rather, that he'd intentionally stalled, wanting to get Dorothy's attention before she made the mistake of dropping her disguise too soon. Raw and Doctor Miller had already appeared at his elbow, ready to enter the large, white marble building towering before them, but DG remained intentionally elusive. For even disguised, DG was petite compared to the soldiers assigned to guarding their group, and amongst the crush of them – efficiently organizing who'd be taking the horses to the stables, and who'd remain behind to guard those going into the hospital – Wyatt had difficulty finding her. She finally stepped forward though, amongst a trio of soldiers that had been hand-picked by their captain to remain behind, looking almost like a green cadet amongst them instead of the slipper princess that Munchkin Security was certainly keeping an eye out for. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, Wyatt's looking dark with worry, and hers nervous and wide. When DG's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and her wide, blue eyes furtively darted behind his shoulder, he sensed the urgency in her manner, and he turned swiftly then to face the goonish guard waiting just steps away.
"You General Cain?" The gruff man rasped; his eyes now focused on Wyatt as he strode up the steps to stand on-level with the man.
Without a word, Wyatt indicated to the others with a jerk his head that they should enter the facility, and while they shuffled past behind him, he answered the man with equal gruffness in his tone. "Yes, I am, and you are?"
"The name's Silas, Seargent Silas." The guard replied importantly, puffing up as he saluted Cain, explaining, "we was told you'd be comin' with the princess. Where is she?"
Wyatt's eyebrow shot up and his jaw clenched, and when he spoke again there was an edge of danger in his voice that made even Seargent Silas shrink. "I don't think it's any business of yours where Princess Dorothy is, do you?"
Silas ruffled the wiry, black hair at the back of his neck and grumbled apologetically, "Ugh, no sir, it's just, we've got orders to – "
"To what, Seargent?" Wyatt interrupted darkly, "report on the comings and goings of a member of the House of Gale? To whom? Where is your commanding officer?"
Silas's dark eyes darted from his scuffed boots to Cain, looking suddenly worried when he answered quickly, "he's not here, sir. He's up past Dragon's Cupboard on the other side of Lake Mossmere, but he'll have my head if the Princess isn't greeted properly."
Wyatt's eyes narrowed while he considered that this man was possibly not as stupid as he appeared, for although he might have pointed him in the general direction of his commanding officer's location, he'd intentionally omitted his name. Then again, this man, being as large as he was, was also oddly terrified of Wyatt, and this led Wyatt to believe something altogether different about the man before him.
"Seargent, have you even met your commanding officer?" Wyatt asked, his voice suddenly so quiet that the hulking man had to lean in to hear him.
Silas' eyes dropped to his shoes again and his partner shifted uncomfortably, confirming Wyatt's suspicions. Wyatt took a deep, steading breath then, and when he spoke again, his voice was metered and patient like he was speaking to a child, yet breezy, like he didn't have a care in the world. "You know, if I were a betting man, I'd lay odds that this commanding officer of yours is just waiting on your report, because I know he's just waiting on us to show up." He said, adding thoughtfully, "I'm also willing to bet that no matter what you say to him, he'll send someone else to go poking around." Then Wyatt stepped closer to the man, and when he did, his voice dropped, and his eyes became sharp like daggers as he stared down the pair of them. "and when he does, I want you to tell him that Wyatt Cain is waiting on him too, and I don't need him anymore to know who the rats are."
Although Seargent Silas had no idea what Wyatt's message meant, the intent behind it was enough to scare him into compliance, and he wagged his head while Wyatt continued to speak. "Now, I don't want you to worry, Seargent, because after I go inside, my other men will be showing back up, and they'll relieve you and your friend here so you'll have all the time you need to report back, and when the Princess does show up, I'll make sure she knows you said 'hi.'" Although both men bristled somewhat at Cain's clearly condescending words, his tone was enough still to worry them, and they both returned to their posts as if he'd commanded it outright. Wyatt, meanwhile, turned and marched to the massive, double doors, and he paused before he entered, eying Silas critically as he issued one last order. "And Seargent, if I see you or any of Munchkinland Security inside this hospital, you'll have a lot more to worry about than your commanding officer. I don't want a single one of you to enter these doors until or unless you have something falling off of you. Is that understood?"
"Yes Sir!" The men both barked back, their backs ramrod straight, and their eyes shooting forward to an almost painful degree.
Wyatt's laser-eyed sight remained on them a moment more, waiting for any sign of resistance that might lead him to escalate the situation further. When it did not come and the men remained steadfast in their attempt to appear compliant, he turned on his heel and entered the hospital, content at least that he'd distracted them long enough to get Dorothy well past them. His relief was short-lived though, for the moment the doors brushed carefully shut behind him and Jeb, it became instantly apparent that he'd lost sight of his princess, and in fact the rest of the party all together. The large atrium, adorned almost completely in gleaming white marble, was a busy square flanked on two of its four sides by sliding glass windows where nurses sat waiting on the other side, ready to assist incoming patients. These monitors were oddly friendly-looking given that their assigned task was to greet patients in varying degrees of illness or anxiety, and each one smiled brightly at Wyatt as he gazed around, looking for his friends among the long rows of wooden chairs set apart from the walls on both sides of the bright, expansive space. Looking down upon all this was the walkway that wrapped around the entire second floor, where doors labeled with different medicoat names or wards were printed in neat, silver letters upon the face. At odd intervals a door would swing open, and another nurse would pop out, calling a name as he or she emerged, causing a patient to rise from his or her seat on the floor below. This was when Wyatt realized that the wide, marble staircase directly opposite him was so much more than it appeared – for when a patient came forward, grasping the brass handrail as they stepped onto the lowest step, a sliver of the stone steps just wide enough for one person climbed the expanse for them, rising like an invisible escalator, only to become once again part of the solid steps when the patient exited on the second floor. Had it been any other time, Wyatt might have been entranced by what he saw and stood a moment more to watch it again, but as he watched a man called Arthur Dentworth exit the staircase, his eyes were drawn past the frail little man in a robe, to a door just beyond the stairs that was left almost intentionally ajar by the smallest of slivers, and on its face, the words "Memory Ward" identified its purpose. He'd only noticed it at all because of the warm light streaming through its small opening, and through this, the furry face of his friend Raw suddenly appeared, apparently keeping watch for him all along. When Wyatt and Jeb had appeared in the lobby below, Raw had poked his head out to beckon them forward and held it open just long enough for the Tin Men to come bounding up the steps and to him, at which point the door closed again with a quiet yet definite click.
Stepping within the threshold, Wyatt immediately understood that they'd entered yet another, much smaller waiting room. This one was a fraction of the size of the one they'd left behind, and the black and white checkered tiles that covered its floor reminded Wyatt of a chess board, except this board had none but his own pieces on it, and they were gathered in a tight bunch in the far corner of the room; not at all cognizant of their entrance, apart from the three guards that hovered on the outskirts of the group looking somewhat bewildered. In the center of the gathering was Dorothy, and although she'd returned to her usual image, she appeared pale and winded, as if she'd run a marathon. Sitting in the chairs on either side of her were two men looking on her with an air of professional concern. One was a man he'd never seen before; although the lines on his face and the rumpled nature of his short, black hair made him appear almost middle aged and weary, he could not have been more than thirty-five annuals old and wore a crisp white medicoat over his thin frame. The name on his coat confirmed that he was a doctor, that his specialty was memory care, and his name was William Roberts, but beyond this, Wyatt gleaned nothing more than the fact that he seemed more concerned with holding out a glass of water for Dorothy, than he was of Wyatt's arrival. Doctor Miller was similarly unbothered by Wyatt and concentrated instead on keeping his middle and index fingers pressed to DG's wrist while his eyes focused beadily on her face, watching intently as she breathed slowly. It was hard to ignore the look of concentrated concern in the doctor's expression, yet Dorothy managed it by keeping her eyes shut tight. It was for this reason that Wyatt wasn't sure who to speak with first when he knelt down before his wife, feeling torn between wanting her to know he was there and wanting to hear why the doctor was so obviously perturbed. DG didn't need him to speak, however, to know he'd arrived, and the moment he knelt before her, her smoky voice greeted him, sounding just as rough and winded as she looked.
"I'm okay Wyatt, really. I just held the glamor a little too long, that's all," Dorothy grumbled, her eyes opening minutely so she could see his brow wrinkling worriedly at her.
Doctor Miller seemed somewhat nonplussed by the statement, and scoffed while he released her wrist, eyeing Dorothy critically as he placed her limb back in her lap. "If that was 'a little too long,' Highness, I'd hate to think of what condition you'd be in had it taken us just another minute to get through that door."
At this comment, DG's eyes peered open at the good doctor before she rolled them back with an unimpressed sigh. "Oh, come on Doc," DG grumbled, "I just got a little lightheaded. I'm already feeling better."
"All the same, Your Highness, as your doctor, I would feel much better if you refrained from any further wardrobe changes for the time being. Is that understood?" Doctor Miller chided Dorothy. When she nodded reluctantly the Doctor turned his laser-like eyes on Wyatt, and he added apologetically, "I realize, of course, that this might make your position somewhat difficult, General, but I really must insist."
Wyatt glanced at Dorothy again, noting how her blue eyes had turned a cloudy gray, and recalling that she only really appeared this winded when she'd performed great feats of magic. He then quickly recollected all the times over the annuals when she'd similarly overdone it with her light. Cataloging all their adventures, it occurred to him that although she'd come a long way from accidentally healing that tree in the fields of the papay and could now readily perform most spells without batting an eye, she did still have the unfortunate habit of not knowing when to quit. The trouble was, creating a glamor wasn't exactly difficult – he'd seen her do it over a dozen times without having an issue – but for some reason, the doctor was looking at her as if afraid that her heart might stop. He felt suddenly afraid to look away from her, fearing that he was missing something important, but completely unable to grasp what made this time different from all the others. Feeling Wyatt looking at her, Dorothy's eyes then darted down to study Wyatt's hand resting on her knee, and she chewed nervously on her lower lip. This was a sure sign that his concerns were most likely well-founded, and Dorothy was trying to avoid telling him at all. She seemed disappointed, like she would have preferred to keep up the guise, especially after their run-in with the demon, and as much as he would have ordinarily agreed with her, knowing how just a half an hour had affected her instantly made it an untenable option.
"We'll figure it out, doc," Wyatt replied to the doctor, instead of directly addressing DG's clear discomfort, before he turned to study the newest edition to their party, rising as he did to draw attention away from his clearly discomfited wife.
"I'm going to assume that you're in charge of the memory ward. Doctor Roberts, is it?" Wyatt addressed the man directly.
Doctor Roberts had arisen on cue and stood before Wyatt as he spoke and took Wyatt's hand in a firm handshake before he replied. "Yes, I am, General Cain, and I admit, I'm relieved that you're here."
"Why's that doc?" Wyatt returned, his eyebrow raised and his tone one of professional curiosity.
Doctor Roberts let out a rather tired sigh and scratched the back of his head, seeming almost sheepish when he answered, "To be honest, General, these cases that the Eastern Guild has brought us are a little outside the ordinary. I've dealt with many cases of traumatic memory loss and dementia over the annuals, and neither really fit the pattern of what we're seeing. Not really anyway, but you'll see. Let me take you through – "
As the young doctor began to stride towards the nurse's window, where a young nurse sat ready to let them through, Wyatt stopped him, his hand raised and his eyes glancing at DG, who'd arisen to follow them, but still appeared somewhat unsteady. "Am I right in assuming that this ward is locked down, and the only way in or out is through that door?"
The doctor looked between Wyatt and the door he'd been walking towards; a heavy, oaken door on the wall adjacent to the entrance. The nurse's station, which was nothing more than a desk behind a glass window set in the wall, sat just beside it, and although the General could not see it, this station was within its own locked room, set apart from the ward and only accessible by a few of the staff, himself included, who were authorized to let people in and out of the secure ward.
"Yes, it is," Doctor Roberts replied, sounding almost apologetic when he explained, "it is necessary, I'm afraid, for the ambulatory patients suffering from dementia. Many have no real memory of who they are, much less why they're in the hospital, and I'm afraid they're known to wander. This ensures their safety, as well as everyone else's."
Wyatt nodded as if he'd expected the answer and was in no need of the man's apologetic explanation. The answer suited him fine really, and when he spoke next, he did so in his most patented, Tin Man manner.
"That's good, Doc. Just what I was hoping." Wyatt replied, gesturing with his eyes to the guards now standing near the entrance of the room, still looking somewhat uncertain. "Then I'd like to post two guards at that door, two in the hallway, and one with the nurse at the window, while the rest stick with us in the ward, and I don't want anyone getting in without being approved by me. Do you think we can do that?"
The doctor's dark, soulful eyes became far-off for a moment while he considered Wyatt's question. Ordinarily, he might not have allowed security to become so quickly usurped by someone outside the usual hospital staff. Munchkinland Security had been bothersome enough in their insistence to "stand watch" outside the hospital, as if they were waiting for some kind of criminal to waltz in at any moment – they'd deterred more patients from receiving care more than anything else they claimed to be doing, and what was worse, when the hospital did actually need the assistance of law enforcement to help identify patients, like those brought in by the Eastern Guild, they'd refused to do anything themselves and prevented the Tin Men from even attempting to assist. Certainly though, the same would not be true of General Cain – a war hero and ex-Tin Man himself – and he finally shrugged when it seemed that there would be no other choice if he wanted their help at all.
"Given that the Princess is among you, I don't see that there's any other choice, General. Just let me know if there is anything I can do to assist," Doctor Roberts obliged with another sigh, relinquishing his command willingly, yet with a hint of resignation in his voice.
As Wyatt stood in the center of the room, caught between studying Doctor Roberts and halting the others in their advance towards the door, it seemed to him that time was speeding up. Although he felt suddenly sluggish, as if he were squeaky cog keeping the rest of the gears from moving efficiently, he was keenly aware that only seconds had truly passed while he considered his next moves. The doctor's eyes were watching him as well, and there was an expectant look there that told him that this man was not accustomed to waiting. All the same though, he was being exceedingly patient, and Wyatt suspected that he truly wanted their help, otherwise his manner told the Tin Man that he would have responded very differently to Wyatt's demands. Then there was DG and the others, clearly looking to him for context clues as to their next moves – they relied on his quick judgement to guide them and keep them safe. Certainly, they'd be safer behind the closed doors of the ward, yet he was still uncertain, but then time seemed to push him again, warning him that he was taking too long to consider, and his body jerked to a turn, facing the three guards before he took another step towards the doctor.
"I want two of to stand watch here, and another out in the hall. When your Captain and the others arrive, you're to send them to me. No one else comes in that ward until then. Understood?"
The three young guards nodded while they replied with clear, yet politely quiet "yes sirs" to their general, who eyed them with an air of paternal impatience.
Having settled that, Wyatt then turned again to the doctor, still standing patiently by the entrance to the ward, and he nodded in silent indication that he was ready to follow. The doctor said little else himself, and between the pair of them, they led the others through, all silent and somber as the importance and timeliness of their mission seemed to weigh down upon them. If the doctor's business-like demeanor wasn't enough of an indicator of the seriousness of their presence there, the series of events that brought them onto the other side of that heavy, wooden door would have made it clear. To be admitted, a person – in this instance, Doctor Roberts – was forced to alert the nurse within the station behind the thick, sliding glass, ringing a bell that could be heard jangling loudly in the space beyond the door. Then, once the nurse slid the frosted glass back to greet whoever had rung the bell, the nurse would push a button within her secure little station to let them through. This caused a clinical sounding buzz to emit from the door as it unlocked, both granting the person access and alerting the staff on the other side of their arrival. Upon entering, the visitor would be greeted by yet another nurse on the other side of the swiftly closing door, and until it shut with a resounding click from the lock engaging, the nurse would remain silent, as the incessant buzzing would continue at an earsplitting frequency until the lock re-engaged.
On this day, the young nurse standing just inside the door was breathless and waited for the door to close with an almost impatient look splashed across her flushed face. She'd clearly been waiting for Doctor Roberts to reappear, and held a chart out to the man, without speaking, biting her lip nervously as he scanned the pages clipped to the metal chart. When the buzzing finally stopped, leaving Wyatt, DG, Raw, and Jeb crowded behind Doctor Miller, the young woman quietly smiled to the group before her sight returned to the Doctor, and she spoke in hushed tones while he continued reading. "The new patient in room seven is awake, Doctor, and it's just like the ones before. He's very disoriented and keeps demanding to know where he is. He's also demanding to know what happened to the police officer who'd been helping him before he came here, and he seems to think we've taken his cell phone? Said he needed to call his mother." the doctor glanced up from the page and fixed the woman with a quizzical look, to which she shrugged apologetically, adding, "I didn't know what to do, Doctor, so I told him I'd find you."
Just then, an angry, almost scared sounding voice echoed down the long, tiled hall, breaking the young nurse from her harried explanation. "What is this place?" the voice bellowed, "Some kind of twilight zone? Where's this medicoat you wackjobs keep talking about? I'm not talking to anyone else unless its him!"
Another nurse bustled out of a door standing open about halfway down the hall, dodging an empty bedpan that had been launched by the owner of the voice screaming for all to hear. DG and Cain's interest had been peaked when terms such as "police man" and "cell phone" had been thrown out by the nurse to describe their newest patient, but now, hearing him yell "twilight zone" and "wackjob" made it abundantly clear: this was an othersider. With a brief, alarmed glance at each other, the pair had already begun to dart forward the moment the nurse had emerged from the room, overtaking both Doctor Miller and Doctor Roberts in their swiftness.
When they arrived in the open doorway, they were somewhat surprised by what greeted them. The words used by the man seemed to peg him as a younger man, perhaps college age or somewhat older, but certainly not the old man sitting in that bed, folding his wrinkled arms in front of his body and brooding at the window on the opposite wall from the door. This man was probably as old as sixty annuals judging by his salt and peppered brown hair and ashen, careworn face, and they glanced at each other, no longer certain what they were stepping into.
Before they could step outside once more, however, the man turned his brooding face to glare at them, and his bright green eyes focused on Wyatt as he spat angrily, "You don't look like any doctor I've ever met. Who are you?"
Wyatt removed the hat from his head as he stepped into the room. "Depends," Wyatt answered thoughtfully, "are you going to throw something at me or my wife too?"
The man looked past Wyatt to DG, still standing uncertain in doorway, and he shrugged, answering easily, "Well, she doesn't look like a nurse either, so no. Probably not, but I still want to know where all my stuff is, and where that old cop went to. I think he got hurt by the guy that attacked us, but no one will tell me anything. It's like they're afraid I'm made of glass."
DG took the old man's reply as an invitation and shrugged casually as she stepped into the room and stood beside Wyatt at the man's bedside. She could sense a something in the man's voice that seemed somehow familiar, like meeting someone from her hometown, and when she spoke, she intentionally added a tone of familiarity to further calm the man. "Well, I mean, you seem to have a good throwing arm and all, but can you blame them? You do seem a little out of sorts. Who attacked you?"
The old man frowned while blowing unhappily through his nose. Clearly, he agreed with the princess' assessment of his mental state but was reluctant to openly suggest it. What was more, although he might have answered her other question, the group of people huddled in the doorway seemed to perturb him, and his worried eyes flickered past Wyatt and DG to eye them suspiciously. "Any of you know where my stuff is? I kinda want to call my mom. Tell her I'm okay."
The two doctors that had been milling about in the doorway stepped into the space when the man addressed them, intending to take this opportunity to assess his state. This freed the doorway for Jeb and Raw to peer through, and when Raw's face appeared in the opening, the old man opened his mouth as if to cry out in surprise, and in doing so, swallowed so much air that he began to cough violently. His face became contorted and stricken as the waves of uncontrollable coughs continued, and his eyes widened with both surprise and alarm as he stared at Raw through it all. Already knowing that the man was an othersider, and completely unfamiliar with the creatures of the OZ, DG surmised that seeing one such as Raw might come as a shock to the man. He was clearly anxious already, and each successive second spent coughing seemed to tax the man greatly, so DG dived forward, grasping the man's hand as she did so, hoping to soothe him with her light. His coughing soon eased, diminishing enough that the man sat back to catch his breath, his eyes falling closed while his chest heaved laboriously.
"I don't understand any of this. I want to go home," DG could hear him whimper faintly as he continued to pant, squeezing her hand as if looking for comfort.
Looking down on him, Dorothy was struck by his sudden frailty. He'd looked aged before, but now, with his eyes shut and his voice breathy and faint, he seemed almost ancient. His skin seemed somehow more wrinkled than just moments before, and the color seemed to be continuously fading from his face and hair as she stood before him, like cloth fading in bright sunlight, yet on extreme fast-forward.
"Look at him," DG breathed out in shock, alerting the others to step forward.
Dorothy let go of the man's hand to allow Doctor Roberts and Doctor Miller to approach, and the pair stood on either side of the man's bed while they broke into action, rushing to take the man's vitals and relieve his symptoms. DG and Wyatt both stepped back to watch the pair work in concert with each other, marveling at their near silent coordination, and shocked by the man's rapid decline. He was near delirious now and muttered incoherently while the doctors worked to provide the man with oxygen. Neither doctor seemed to be able to slow the man's decline however, and as the seconds ticked by, he appeared more and more shriveled. He was less aware of his surroundings too, and almost completely ignored both doctors as they worked frantically over him. Finally, he ripped the mask away from his face, his body tensed, and he gasped out a final, frightened breath before he crumpled on the bed, ceasing all movement or breathing. This was the unfortunate cue that told the doctors that their attempts were in vain, and they stepped away from the bed, looking defeated and resigned.
It had all happened so fast, that all they could do was to stand aside in the corner of the room while the doctors and nurses bustled to remove the old man from the room. While DG's eyes welled up with tears, Raw rubbed his hands together nervously, and Jeb and Wyatt stared ahead woodenly, they all shared a certain kind of bewilderment at what they'd just seen happen. Even in a place such as the OZ, where magic is accepted, such events were hardly commonplace, and most often associated with the practitioners of dark arts. Clearly, the man hadn't been attacked by rogue longcoats, and he certainly wasn't from the OZ – not if his alarming injuries were any indication at all. It left little doubt that he'd been attacked by Ardat Lilith, and as they all stood in a line, waiting for the medical staff to leave, they each pondered why the demon was preying on othersiders so openly and recklessly.
When they were alone again with the doctors, Wyatt was the first to speak, and he addressed Doctor Roberts with quiet urgency. "Doc, when he was brought in, did he have anything on him?"
Doctor Roberts' eyes leveled with Wyatt's, and he offered the Tin Man a short nod. "Yes," he replied, turning then to open a drawer beside the now empty bed. When he placed a plain, black billfold in Wyatt's hand, he explained sadly, "but there wasn't much."
Wyatt peered down at the billfold and frowned deeply. He'd hoped for more himself to link this man to his otherside roots, and perhaps connect more of the dots that he was still woefully in the dark about. Still, it was something, and if he was like any other man that he'd met on the otherside, he could at least find identification in the billfold sitting in his open hand. Wyatt huffed through his nose as he opened the wallet then and moved almost automatically to remove the card in the clear sleeve at the front of its open face. Obviously, he'd found what he needed, and as he examined it, his frown deepened. Without speaking, he handed the card to DG then, whose own expression morphed from one of sadness, to shock as she read the first two lines on the card.
"Wyatt," DG breathed out quietly, "he was just a kid!"
"It's worse than that," Wyatt replied darkly, "he's from Hilltop."
DG's expression morphed again from shock to alarm as the reality of the situation struck her. The old man had seemed so familiar, and now she knew why – they had probably frequented the same stores, swapped tales with Ruby at the library on the weekends, and for all she knew, she could have even served him burgers at the Hilltop Café. It seemed that not only was Ardat Lilith attacking othersiders, but he was seemingly pinpointing anyone that she had come into even marginal contact with. Then the old man's words came back to haunt her – he'd said that an old cop had been with him when he'd been attacked, but judging from what everyone else had said since they'd arrived, she surmised that the unnamed man hadn't come with him when he'd been dragged through the travel storm.
In that moment of realization, her blue eyes connected with Wyatt's again, and her voice cracked when she blurted out in alarm, "Ezra!"
Wyatt's eyes were equally troubled, and while he would have replied, the captain of their guard had suddenly arrived in the doorway behind DG and stood quietly by, waiting to be acknowledged. Wyatt's eyes flickered meaningfully from the captain to the hallway beyond him, and without a word, the captain stepped fully into the room and shut the door quietly. Having now enclosed them all in the room, Wyatt spoke, his voice sounding dark and conspiratory. "The princess and I need to get to the otherside, but I don't want anyone else to know about it." Everyone stood a little straighter at this pronouncement, stepping closer as if sensing the importance behind the Tin Man's words. "We need a plan quick, and I'm willing to take suggestions."