Weathering the Storm:
Chapter Three

Zero opened his fist as the group of Longcoats crossed into the heart of Winkie country, staring down at the silver locket he'd retrieved when the old Viewer, Lylo, had collapsed in the Tower. He'd taken the princess' image tucked inside to the printers for use on the Wanted posters, but he'd retrieved it after they were done copying it, intrigued by the Sorceress' reactions to her suddenly returned younger sister.

She was young, there was no question about it; maybe a little more than half his age, with dark hair, eyes as blue as the lake at Finaqua, and a persistent air of earnestness that made her seem too innocent for the number of annuals she claimed. But as bred to power as her sister, projecting defiance and the expectation that her orders be followed whenever she forgot to be afraid.

That couldn't have been taught to her on the Other Side; he'd seen the nurture units when they were brought in to the Tower. They'd spent the better part of fifteen annuals trying to soothe and suppress their princess, not train her for her position at Court. Probably smart; if the Sorceress had noticed her Light shining through from the Other Side any sooner, the Resistance would never have stood any real chance of success. But it also made her vulnerable to the right combination of sentiment and leverage-- something the Queen had clearly expected when she'd planned Princess Deegee's Quest, but which less scrupulous parties could also use to their advantage.

Zero closed the locket again with a snap, then tucked it away in the breast pocket of his jacket as he turned his attention to the tin palace looming on the horizon.

According to OZ legend, Nick Chopper had been born completely human. Zero wasn't sure how much stock to put in that; the story sounded bizarre even considering the magic that had reportedly flowed through every breeze, stream, and root in the ancient days, waiting to use or be used by any or all of the Outer Zone's residents. The famous Tin Woodman was neither robot nor cyborg, like the residents of Milltown; he had no mechanized moving parts. He'd simply had his organic body parts replaced by a gifted tinsmith as he'd lost them one by one to cursed accidents, until he was entirely made of tin, his spirit magically anchored to a frame more durable than blood and bone.

He'd remained nothing more than a slightly unusual resident of the OZ, though, until the first Dorothy had found him-- as every child who'd ever heard the story of the Wizard and the First Slipper could tell. He'd helped her along the Route to Central City, back in the days when its streets had been paved with green stones and most of its buildings painted to match by royal decree, and by the time Dorothy was crowned Queen he'd become one of the royal family's most trusted advisors.

As a result, he'd been given charge of the provinces to the west, just as a succession of Mystic Men had watched over Central City, the Nunkie line of Munchkins had held the Guild chair in the east, and the Gale Queens' superfluous family members had been sent to Finaqua and the Northern Island to administer local governance under the umbrella of the Crown. That pattern had held for nearly five hundred annuals… until Azkadellia had sent Longcoats to take those lesser rulers into 'protective custody' early in her reign. Unfortunately-- or fortunately, from Zero's perspective-- the self-titled Emperor of the Winkies had disappeared before her men could reach him. The Brick Route had never run west past where the Tower now stood, a logistical quirk that had slowed the troops' progress, and that meant word of the Longcoats' advance had arrived before they did.

Whatever his origins, there was something about the Tin Woodman that had always inspired devotion in his subjects. More than Zoroaster, the latest Mystic Man, who for all his Great and Terrible title had been after all just a man; or the Katt brothers, who with their warpaint and love of rhyme were a little too ridiculous to venerate; or Ambrose, who despite being cousin to the Queen and the smartest man in the Realms had been too in love with his own mind to see the potential consequences of his work. It wasn't due to the Woodman's vast age, either; or if it was, it was because despite all he'd seen over the years he still retained the kindness and wisdom he'd been known for since the beginning.

Zero was no exception to the rule. His previous plans may have gone straight to the Wheelers, but the boy who'd soaked up every famous story at his Winkie grandmother's knee was still there under all the layers of blood and rue. If he could just get the Woodman on his side, Zero couldn't help but believe that his odds of success would increase exponentially.

But he had to find him first. As tarnished as the palace looked even from a distance, it wasn't likely its owner had returned since Azkadellia's men had retreated empty-handed; the tin edifice had always shone brightly when its Emperor had been in residence. The royal polishing crew would never have tolerated its current condition.

If they were lucky, Chopper had hidden himself nearby rather than flee to one of the remote regions of the Zone where ambient magic still clung tightly to the land. Most of the Zone's pocket civilizations had faded to cautionary tales by the time Zero was a child, but he'd seen a few still marked on the Sorceress' maps, such as Oogaboo up in the northwest corner of Winkieland, hemmed in by a range of mountains on one side and the Deadly Desert on the other. She'd generally left places like that alone, saving her 'history cleansing' purges for intrusions of modern technological culture like Milltown. Wherever he was, the sooner they started following his trail, the better.

The sun was just starting to set as Zero finally rode up the avenue leading to the palace, its last rays gilding the dull, pewter-hued domes and towers with warmth. The streets of the surrounding town were full of people going about their usual business and side-eyeing Zero's men with a wary air, but the palace grounds themselves were quiet and still. Only one man was visible as they approached, kneeling among the shrubs bracketing the entrance with a can of polish and a stained rag. A pair of tin rose bushes, already scrubbed spotless, reflected the sunset from their leaves and blossoms like a blaze of tiny mirrors; Zero smiled grimly at the sight and held up a hand to signal his men to halt.

"I have an urgent message for the Emperor," he said, dismounting to address the servant.

The middle-aged Winkie in silver livery looked up in startlement, his eyes widening as he took in the cluster of men and horses. Zero had ordered all of his men to remove the insignia signifying their ranks, but there was no hiding the cut of their jackets or their general air of well-fed muscle.

"I fear you have made your journey for no purpose," the Winkie replied as he stood to face them, wariness in every line of his expression. "The Emperor is not in residence today; he has not been in residence for many annuals."

"So you're telling me you're polishing those flowers just for the hell of it?" Zero replied dryly, gesturing toward the gleaming roses. Trying not to alarm the people they questioned into reporting them to the Crown was one thing; rolling over for obvious lies would be something else altogether.

The Winkie clenched his hand around the can of polish, glancing between Zero and his still-mounted lieutenants. "It's for... the wedding! The wedding next weekend," he covered, hastily. "Two of the local residents intend to wed in this garden, but the flowers must be polished first."

Zero snorted. "Full points for quick thinking, but you might want to try sounding a little surer of your answer next time. Why don't you just send word for the seneschal? You have to know we're not here for the Sorceress; the messengers should have made it here days ago with the news of her defeat."

The Winkie swallowed, a sheen of sweat popping up on his forehead, but tipped his chin up in defiance even as he began backing slowly toward the doors. "I know no such thing," he pointed out, dropping the pitiful attempt at subterfuge. "You might have torn the chains and badges off of those jackets, but not even a one of you is wearing a Resistance fighter's kilt. The seneschal doesn't need to be bothered with a bunch of Longcoats only looking to bring their mistress back to power."

Zero didn't know what the man thought he was doing; he couldn't possibly block all of them from accessing the Palace, even if the door behind him was the only one currently functional, and he doubted there were enough guards inside to make more than a token gesture at defying them, either-- if Zero's people had really been a threat to him. He supposed he respected the Winkie's determination, though; it was that sort of obstinacy that had kept the OZ's native traditions alive over the annuals, despite everything. In his own way, the tin gardener was performing the same function for his Emperor that Zero and his folk had set out to do for the whole of the Outer Zone.

"Most Longcoats were something else once, you know," he said, not unkindly, gesturing back at his troops. "Before Her. And some of us hope to one day be so again, if we're given the chance. All of us here bleed yellow and green, just like you; we mean the Emperor no harm."

The Winkie narrowed his eyes a little, scanning his eyes over the whole group as if he could visually test the truth of Zero's words. After a long moment, he seemed to come to a decision, and tilted his head, meeting gazes with Zero again. "Yellow, perhaps. The land's still not fully healed," he said, obliquely.

Ahhh. Not a royalist either, then, exactly. Interesting, Zero thought, favoring the man with a sharp smile. "No, it isn't. But with the Emperor's help-- it could be."

The Winkie pressed his lips together, his expression still cautious, then raised a hand to point toward the west. "It'll do you no good to see the seneschal, then; he's new here, and a Queen's man. But if you can reach the house on Mount Munch, you might learn something worth your time."

Zero considered that, holding up a hand to halt his little troupe's objections. The instructions had the feeling of a test; either that or a wild goose chase, but given that he had no other clues to go on, and that Mount Munch was close enough to reach by mid-day if they started the next morning, the detour seemed worth taking. If the Winkie had misled them, they'd be back by the next nightfall, and the man had to know the consequences of lying to them wouldn't be worth the momentary satisfaction.

"All right," he said, then drew a dagger from his belt. "I'll give your regards to the Emperor when I see him then, shall I?" The Winkie flinched, but didn't cower; Zero smirked, then bent to the tin rose bush, carefully parting one thin stem. He threaded the polished flower through the top buttonhole of his coat over the man's choked objection, then swung back up onto his horse. The flower would serve as a warning and a bona fide all in one; anyone who saw Zero now would know where he'd been, and where to direct their questions if anything... unexpected... were to happen.

His men exchanged glances at the gesture, but didn't grumble; not even when he ordered them to camp half an hour's ride outside the town walls rather than rest in comfort that night. They'd never been the most arrogant of the Sorceress' guard, the most eager to act, or the most creative; only the most self-effacingly competent. That was, after all, why they'd still been free to find him.

That far into Winkie country, the hills and rolling plains were dressed in checkerboards of worked fields and gently waving expanses of the native blue grasses. Zero's men pitched their tents in a fairly sheltered hollow, as if it were any other night since the Eclipse, with one difference: Zero had detached a man or two in the town to purchase prepared food. It was one thing to secure a safe camp, but another altogether to cook over an outdoor fire with a source of luxury and improved morale so easily available. And if it encouraged the Winkie residents to remember them as guests contributing to their town's economy more than a band of shady criminals when the Queen's men next came through? All the better. They had a different audience to appeal to now, and if they couldn't adapt, they'd probably wish they had gone down with the Sorceress.

The stars were out by the time Zero had finished eating, set the watch, and took off his boots to lie on his bedroll, and he fixed his eyes on the patch of sky visible through the gap in the tent flaps as he set his mind for sleep. He'd always been one to look up at the stars, when he was little; before he'd had cause to fear the movements of the heavens. Before he'd started wondering whether Princess Azkedellia had been behind the drought in the Fields of the Papay too, fiddling with the seasons the way she'd fiddled with the suns-- the failure of the crops there had been one of the major points behind the army's support of her over her mother. And yet, over all the eight years of the Sorceress' reign... the first sign of life in that place, according to that pernicious little viewing disc, had been engendered by her sister.

It was an important distinction. Zero hadn't seen much of Princess Deegee's magic yet, but he'd seen enough, and heard enough from the Sorceress, to come to a few interesting conclusions. The Sorceress' magic had largely been magic of binding: the shaping and bending of things to her will. But the spells the younger princess had been successful with so far had mostly been magic of unbinding: of loosing and encouraging things to return to their truest form.

Maker and Unmaker; Jailor and Emancipator. Former Sorceress and Future Queen. Only time would tell if Deegee would succeed in bringing strength back to the OZ, but Zero was sure he was right, this time, about the prophecy.

He fell into a restless sleep eventually, and dreamed of green light and endless, empty, rusting corridors.

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