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"You have Black's heart?" Tinker asked Oilcan.

"I have no heart." He thumped on his chest and it echoed.

"That was a different tin man." Esme butted between the two of them. "We need to find the wizard! Only he can solve all our problems."

"I can take you to the wizard." Oilcan squeaked as he moved his arm to point down a yellow brick road that led into a dark forest of black willows. "But we don't need to hurry, it's only six o'clock."

"We've murdered time." Esme took out a pocket watch. It seemed to be coated with butter. "It's always six o'clock—we have to run to stay in the same place."

"We will have to go through the trees." Pony's cat tail danced nervously behind him.

"I don't know if that's smart," Tinker said.

"Of course you don't, you have straw for brains." Esme picked straw out of Tinker's head to prove her point. "Look! See!" She held out the straw as evidence. "We have to get to the wizard. He's the only one who can give you brains so you can solve this problem."

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"But the road ended with the tree," Tinker pointed out as they crept forward, clinging to one another.

"It's not the tree," Esme said. "It's the fruit."

The trees turned, their gnarled faces looking at them with wooden eyes. They were black willow trees but there were apples—red and tempting—in their branches.

"You need the fruit." Esme pushed Tinker hard toward the trees.

The trees plucked the apples from their branches and flung them like hard rain at Tinker.

* * *

Tinker flailed her way out of her sheets to sit up in bed. It was very early morning by the pale light in the window—the birds hadn't yet started to stir. Windwolf was awake though, and dressing.

"I didn't mean to wake you." He came to kiss her. His shirt was still unbuttoned, and she burrowed into his warmth.

"I had another dream about Black, Esme, and the black willow."

"Esme?"

"I figured out who White was—she's Lain's sister."

"Ah, the one in white—you're dreaming that she's dreaming." He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair.

"Hm? Oh, yes, the Escher thing." Gods, it felt so right to be held by him.

"Have you talked to Stormsong?"

"Yeah. She—we fit."

He tipped her head back to gaze intently into her face. "You've accepted her? To be your beholden?"

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She gave a tiny nod. It sounded like some kind of wedding vow. Was this what elf society was all about—getting married again and again, only without sex? "Yes. To be mine."

Windwolf gave her his smile that warmed her to her toes. "I release her to you. But—"

"But?"

"But that is not what I meant. You should talk to Stormsong about your dreams. She has some training in
yatanyai
. She might be able to help you determine what they mean."

"She does?"

"It was thought she would be an
intanyei seyosa
but in the end, she had too much of her father's temperament." Windwolf kissed Tinker again and slipped out of her hold. "I need to go. True Flame expects me. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

She eyed the bed. She was still tired, but to sleep would most likely mean another dream.

"I'll send Pony to you." Windwolf buttoned up his shirt.

"I'd rather have you." She settled back into the warm softness.

Windwolf smiled. "I am glad of that, but alas, you cannot have me, so you must make do with Pony."

Did he really know what that sounded like in English? She curled into ball and resolved to be asleep before Pony joined her. And she was.

Another day, another dress. She really had to do something about clothing. She picked out the Wind Clan blue dress and had the staff add pockets to it while she ate. Breakfast proved that Windwolf's household was still intent on mothering the life out of her. They stacked the garden table with plates of pastries, omelets, and fresh fruit. Tinker eyed the collection of dishes with slight dismay.

"If they keep this up, they're going to make me fat," Tinker complained.

"Eat." Stormsong pointed at a bench, indicating that she was to sit. "You and Pony have both lost weight
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since Aum Renau."

Pony nodded, acknowledging that this was the truth. "You should eat."

"
Pft
." Tinker began loading a plate. "Fine, but you both have to eat too."

A sign of their "fit," they ate at first in companionable silence, then drifted into a conversation about which of the
sekasha
would work well with them. Of Windwolf's four Hands, they came up with a list of seven possible candidates to fill the three open positions of Tinker's First Hand.

"We can spend a few days pairing with others to see who works best with you." Pony meant Tinker.

"Windwolf chose all of his
sekasha
so we work well together, and we've had years to learn each other's ways."

"What are your plans for today?" Stormsong asked. "Are we finished with that tree?"

"I don't know," Tinker whined. "I had another dream about it. Windwolf said I should talk to you about my dreams."

"You dream?" Stormsong said.

"I don't want to believe that I do," Tinker said, "but things keep showing up out of my dreams."

"Dreams are important," Stormsong said. "They let you see the future."

"Oh gods help me if this is my future," Tinker muttered.

"Tell me this dream," Stormsong said.

"Well, I had a couple, and they're all centering around two people, and the tree." Tinker explained the first dream and then the discovery of Esme's identity, and then last night's dream, ending with, "And I don't have a clue where all
that
weirdness came from."

Stormsong cocked her blue head with a faint disbelieving look on her face. "It sounds like
The Wizard
of Oz
."

"What's that?" Tinker asked.

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"It's a movie," Stormsong said.

Tinker had never heard of such a movie. "What's it about?"

"It's about—It's about—It's odd." Stormsong said. "Maybe you should just see it."

Since Tooloo rented videos, Tinker gave her a call.

"I'm looking for
The Wizard of Oz
."

"Well, follow the yellow brick road," Tooloo said and hung up.

Somehow, Tinker had totally forgotten how maddening it was to deal with Tooloo. She hit redial, and explained, "I'm looking for the movie called
The Wizard of Oz
."

"You should have said so in the first place."

"Can you set it aside? I'll be by to pick it up." And while she was there, she'd find out why Tooloo had lied to Nathan.

"No, you won't," Tooloo said.

Amazing that someone can give you an instant headache over the phone. "Yes, I will."

"You can come but the movie won't be here."

"Oh, did someone else rent it?"

"No."

"Tooloo!" Tinker whined. "This is so simple—why can't I rent the movie if no one has it?"

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"I never had it."

"You didn't?" Tinker asked.

"It was fifty years old when the first Shutdown hit, and I couldn't stand it after having to watch it every year for thirty years running."

Should she even ask
why
Tooloo had to watch it every year? No, that would only make her head hurt more. "So that's a 'no'?"

"Yes," and Tooloo hung up.

Tinker sat drumming her fingers as she considered her phone. Should she call Tooloo back and try to find out why Tooloo was telling people she wasn't married to Windwolf? Go and visit the crazy half-elf in person? She suspected that even if she could understand the logic behind Tooloo's action, she wouldn't be able to change it so the half-elf would stop.

She decided to focus on her dream. Where had she seen the movie? Her grandfather thought movies were a waste of time, so that left Lain.

"I don't have that movie," Lain stated when Tinker called and asked.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Esme insisted that we watch it every year after Thanksgiving. God knows why they picked Thanksgiving. It always gave me nightmares. I would be quite happy never to see that stupid movie again."

"Esme liked it?"

"She always identified too much with Dorothy, though she never understood why Dorothy wanted to go back home. Esme would go on and on about how if she were Dorothy, she would stay in Oz, which would make my mother cry. Every Thanksgiving we would have this huge family fight about watching it; Esme would win, Mother would cry, and I'd have nightmares."

They said their good-byes like polite people and Tinker hung up. Where had she seen this movie?

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She called Oilcan. She never watched a movie alone, so he most likely had seen it with her. "Hey, I'm trying to remember something. Did you see
The Wizard of Oz
with me?"

"The what?"

"It's a movie called
The Wizard of Oz
. It's about Dorothy who goes to Oz." That much of the story Tinker had gathered from Lain, although she wasn't clear where Oz was. Africa?

"It's not ringing any bells."

She sighed. "If I track this down, do you want to watch with us?"

"A movie night? Cool. Sure. Meet you at your loft?"

She hadn't considered where to watch the movie once she found it. She suddenly realized it had been two months since she'd been home to her loft. Weirder yet, she didn't want to go—as in "don't want to go to the dentist because it would hurt" way. Why the hell did she feel that way? Her system made Oilcan's look like a toy, which was why they always used her place. But she was cringing at the thought of doing movie night at her loft.

"Tink?" Oilcan asked.

This was stupid—it was her home. "Yeah, my place."

"See you later then."

"Later."

She slumped forward onto the table, resting her cheek on its smooth surface. Three phone calls, she hadn't yet stirred out of the garden, and already she was emotionally raw and tired. Damn, she wished she could get a good night's sleep. Her exhaustion felt like it was teaming up with all her problems, conspiring to keep her off balance.

"
Domi
," Stormsong said quietly. "When I saw the movie, I rented it from Eide's."

At least something was working out in her life.

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Eide's Entertainment was an institution in Pittsburgh, down on Penn Avenue in the Strip District.

Established in the 1970s as a comicbook store, it had been one of the many landmarks that somehow not only survived but also flourished when transplanted to Elfhome. It was a mecca of human culture, which not only humans but also elves went on pilgrimage to. Tinker and Oilcan would always hit the shop once immediately after Startup to see what was new, and then several times a month to see what used music and videos were brought in by other customers. Besides music, videos, and comic books, the store was a treasure trove of collectible items: non-sport cards, magazines, Big Little Books, pulps, and out of print books.

Ralph raised his hand to them as they entered. "Hey, Lina, long time no see. I've got that Nirvana CD

you wanted in the back."

It wasn't until Stormsong touched hands with Ralph in a rocker's version of a handshake that Tinker realized he had been talking to Stormsong. Lina? Ah yes,
Linapavuata
, which was Elvish for "singing."

Ralph looked past the elf, saw Tinker.

"Tinker-tiki!" Ralph used Tinker's racing nickname, which meant "Baby Tinker," "Look at you!" He ran a finger over Tinker's ear point, making her burn with embarrassment. "Like the ear job. Love the dress.

You're looking
fine
."

Pony slapped Ralph's hand away and reached for his blade, but Stormsong kept him from drawing his
ejae
.

"Their ways are not ours," Stormsong murmured in High Elvish to Pony, and then dropped to Low Elvish to continue. "Ralph, this is Galloping Storm Horse on Wind, he looks to Tinker
ze domi
—and she is
very
off-limits now."

"Forgiveness." Ralph bowed and used passable Low Elvish. "Does that make you Tinker of the Storms?"

"Beloved Tinker of Wind," Pony corrected Ralph with a growl.

Ralph glanced to Stormsong and read something on her face that made him decide to flee. "Let me go get that CD."

Tinker turned to Pony, who was still glaring after Ralph. "What was that about?"

"He should show you respect," Pony said.

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Stormsong clarified in English. "'Baby Tinker' is disrespectful, nor should he have touched you."

"I've known him for years!" Tinker stuck with Low Elvish. She didn't want to cut Pony out of the conversation. "Oilcan and I go to his parties. Tinker-tiki is what all the elves call me."

"Used to call you," Pony said. "No elf would be so impolite as to use it now."

"Only because they fear you would call insult," Stormsong implied, with a glance, that Pony would use his blade in dealing with anyone who insulted Tinker.

"Like—kill them?" Tinker asked.

"We have the right to mete out punishment as we see fit," Pony explained. "By the blood and the sword."

Oh boy. The little things people don't tell her
. "You can't just whack the head off anyone that pisses you off!"

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