This was  a special performance, indeed, for it was the first in the newly built Royal Court Theatre, which now formed the East Wing of his home. It was the people of his own land that filled these seats tonight. His ambassadors and representatives from around the world had all come home for the special occasion (which had kept Doreen, the Royal Travel Agent quite busy for awhile); in fact he could see some of them from the stage. Yes, there was Alby, his Ambassador to Portugal, and Maria, his European Diplomat, and Donna, his Ambassador to Canada. They were all cheering wildly, he smiled and pointed in their direction. Beside them were Linda, and Vivica Leder, his Ambassadors to the Southern USA and Germany respectively. He could see the five of them lean together, as if in conference, then all five yelled out in unison, "One more time!" With a grin, he nodded and signalled for the band to pick it up again ...

Three more encores later, and the fireworks went up at his signal.

There is a fine line between fantasy and reality, and it had just unknowingly been crossed. It had indeed been a magical performance, but no one yet knew just how magical.
 

Back in the Massage Room, Lynne, the Royal Masseuse skilfully kneaded his aching muscles. Nora, her assistant, stood by with the appropriate bottle of Massage oil. Diane, the Royal Chiropractor, sat to the side, waiting to make the adjustments she knew would be necessary. It was very quiet in this room; the only sound to be heard was that of a pencil hurriedly moving across paper as Sparkle quickly recorded the new rhythm patterns she had heard that night; as Chief of Dance notation, she did this after each performance.
 

Meanwhile, the Dressing Room was far from quiet. Alaura, the Royal Leather Pants Fastener and her apprentice, Juli, were preparing the pants to be put away.

"Now, Juli," Alaura said with great authority, "Before storing, it is very important to make sure these are absolutely dry. He’s expending a lot of energy ..."

"I know, I know," Juli interrupted with a touch of exasperation. "You’ve told me enough times.. I get the idea -- he sweats."

"You’re not kidding," exclaimed Sindy, the Royal Towel Holder. "Look, this towel is soaked!"

"Hey, I’m missing one scrunchie!" said Katherine Foley, Royal Scrunchie Handler. "Has anyone seen it?"

"Over here, Katherine," replied Christine Rudock, the Royal Laundress. "And Sindy, I’ll take that towel."

"Okay, who swiped some of the Bernini?" Marty, the Royal Perfumer called out.

"Why, is some missing?" asked Cindy Pederson, the Royal Photographer.

"Yes," replied Marty, "I wonder if Shamus is responsible for this."

"How much was taken?" asked Jessica "Angel", the Royal Toe Tapper and Hug Giver.

"Well, not too much, I guess," replied Marty.

"That’s good," said Erin Fitzpatrick, the Royal Spy, "I was afraid you were going to ask me to ‘spy out’ who did it."

She smiled. "No, it’s not exactly worth sniffing everyone to see who smells like ‘a captivating blend of exotic woods ...’ "
"Oh, don’t read us the whole description again!" cried Marion, the Protector of the King’s Creative Muse. "I’d rather just enjoy the scent!"

"Ouch!" a cry came from the corner of the room.

"Kathy, are you all right?" asked Andrea, the Royal Dresser, from the rack where she was hanging up costumes.

"Yes," Kathy Sandrock replied. "I don’t really require a paramedic, Joe," she said with a smile, to Joe Horn, who had come to take a look at her injury.

"What can I say, it’s been a quiet night, medically speaking," he replied.

"I’m just touching up the embroidery in this costume and stuck the needle into my finger that’s all," she explained.

"Oh, sounds painful -- I think I’ll stick to braiding," said Leah Gibson, the Official Braider of the Lord’s Headbands. "Here, Kim." she said, handing over the headband she had just been working on.

"Thanks, yes, that’s much better." said Kim, the Keeper of the Headbands.

"I’m about finished here," called out Share Coughlin, His Lordship’s Official Cleft Chin Caretaker. "Are you ready to go, Mary Ann?"

"I have the flute, so yes, I’m ready," replied the Protector of the Royal Irish Flute.

"Me, too!" said Darla Armstrong, the Royal Barber. "He’s elected not to shave tonight. Jennifer, how about you?"

Jennifer Harvey looked up from the dressing table. "I don’t suppose I’ll be applying any more war paint tonight," she said with a smile. "The make-up is all put away, so I’m ready."

"And I don’t have any more shirts to catch," added Melanie Mather. "Oh, hello, Victoria."

"Good evening, Melanie," replied Victoria Simpson, the Royal Cobbler, who had just entered the room, "I just passed Shamus in the hall, smelling remarkably like Bernini ...Would you believe, 20 pairs of shoes I need to repair after tonight’s performance?"

"I have near that number of costumes to reinforce seams," answered Lennie, the Royal Costumer and Seamstress.

"Wow," interjected Munchkin, Keeper of the Royal Belt, "I’m glad I only have the belt to take care of."

"And I just have the keep the flames," added Kal, "though lighting all those torches is a job and a half, let me tell you."
 

While the Dressing Room buzzed with post-show activity, and Michael’s massage continued, a shadowy figure moved on the darkened stage. It stopped and seemed to take stock of it’s surroundings. With noiseless step, the figure crept from the stage, and unseen, slipped out the Theatre’s side door and into the main house.
 

Outside, Erin, Celtic goddess and Royal Watcher of the Skies stood with Kelly, the Royal Astrologer, looking at the stars.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"It’s more what I don’t think that worries me." she replied.

Erin nodded. "It doesn’t look good, does it?"

Kelly answered with a sigh. "No, Something is very wrong."
 

Nearby, Linda McInnes, Wiccan Priestess, shivered in the night air. It was not from the cold, for the temperature was mild. But something had changed, though she did not know what.

"You feel it too?" a voice spoke very near her.

She jumped, for she had thought she was alone. "Oh, it’s you Jerri. You startled me."

"I’m sorry," said Jerri, the Royal Psychic. "But you do feel it, don’t you?"

Linda paused, then nodded. "Yes, something is not right. There are changes in the air."
 

Stillfire sat contemplating the successful evening, when a shadow suddenly invaded her thoughts. Try as she would, the purely happy thoughts could not be separated from the darkness that had just formed. "What has happened?" she wondered anxiously.
 

Elsewhere, in a small cottage at the edge of the kingdom, Rionach awoke suddenly. She looked around her and took a deep breath. She could feel something ... a slow smile spread across her face, and she settled back into her bed, falling into a contented sleep.
 

The morning dawned fresh and clear. Out in the garden, Janie, the Royal Aroma Therapist and Flower Arranger, studied the flowers to determine which would make the best arrangement for the dinner party scheduled for the following evening. She looked up with some surpise when a slight figure dressed in gold silently walked by about ten feet away from her. "That’s strange," she thought, "Why is Helen up this early, and in costume?"

At the other side of the garden, Care O’Celt lovingly tended the roses cultivated specifically for the end of  each performance. Michael always gave Helen a rose during the curtain calls. A lone figure watched her curiously.

"Oh, good morning, Helen," Care said. "You haven’t been in that costume all night, have you?"

The girl looked at her with a startled expression, then without answering, she turned and ran back towards the house.
 

Much later that morning, the Kitchen echoed with the clatter of dishes and the sounds of conversation. A major dinner party was taking place the next evening, and some things had to be prepared a full day ahead of time.

"Gina," Kathy Karaba, the Royal Chef, called to her assistant, "Could you bring me some more flour? I’m up to my elbows in pastry dough."

"Coming," Gina, replied, picking up the can of flour and stepping around Kim Cullison. "Sorry, Kim, but I guess the pastry isn’t the healthiest part of this meal."

"After the performance last night," the Royal Nutritionist replied, "I’m not going to worry too much about what everyone eats at this party. And I’ve given up worrying about O’Leary at all."

O’Leary, the Royal Kitchen Pig, looked up from the breakfast leftovers briefly, then went back to eating.

"Yes that performance was something else, wasn’t it," said Libby, the Royal Baker. "And I’m glad you said that, Kim, because we won’t be skimping on dessert. Hey, Nancy, how’s that cheesecake coming?"

Nancy looked up from the bowl where she was mixing ingredients. "Patience, Libby, good cheesecake takes time."

"And an excellent job you do, Nancy." replied Thomas, the Royal Breadbaker. "Good morning, Jane." he added, seeing the Royal Wine Steward emerge from the wine cellar door.

"Good morning!" she answered. "I think I have all the wines for tomorrow’s dinner planned. Kathy, we’ll have to go over the menu one more time."

Maureen McDonnell, the Royal Scullery Maid looked up with a smile from the dishes she was washing. "There were several ‘one more times’ last night, weren’t there?"

"Four encores!" Ann Marie Schneider, the Royal Serving Wench exclaimed. "It was fantastic! Now if we can just get this dinner coordinated -- I think this is as complicated as some of his Lordship’s steps."

There was a general chorus of agreement as Carol the Offical Chambermaid and Stephanie the Royal Cobweb Remover and Clock Winder came in the room.

"Well, the beds are made," Carol announced, "I don’t think anyone was in them for more and four hours."

"And the clock are wound," said Stephanie. "I’ll check for cobwebs later -- there can’t be any for the dinner tomorrow night!"

While she spoke, Brenedette entered the room. "Hey, I just stopped by to find out what’s for dinner tomorrow."

"It’s a surprise, Brenedette," replied Gina, "I think this is the biggest dinner we have ever had!"

Just then, Ian the Royal Floor Buffer, came in. "Whew!" he exclaimed, "There’s a lot of floor in this place!"

"Just make sure you concentrate on the Dining Room floor tomorrow, Ian," replied Kathie, "Oh, Gina ..."

While the activity continued, no one noticed the dark shadow that passed the kitchen door and headed down the hallway.
 

Down in the Music Room, the Royal Troubadours and Musicians were practicing for the next evening’s party.

"Martha, I need to hear that melody line at measure 64," said Cheryl Albert, Soprano.

"Sure, Cheryl," Martha replied, putting down her flute. As both flautist and pianist, she usually sat at the piano during rehearsals. "Measure 64, did you say?"

"Excuse me," Sindy  interrupted as she came into the room with her daughter Emily Eilleen, "Have any of you seen the Tin Whistle?"

The Royal Troubadours and Musicians looked at each other in bewilderment. "No, Sindy," replied Bob Graham, the Tuba player. "Did you get it after last night’s performance?"

"Yes," Sindy replied, "I put it away in Emily’s room like always. But this morning after breakfast, it was gone!"

"Very strange," said Naku, the Guitar player. "Who would take the Tin Whistle?"

Tina, the Trombonist, smiled as she gestured towards the door. "There’s your answer." she said as she pointed. "Good morning, Helen."

The figure of a girl in a gold suit appeared in the door way. In her hand, she held the Tin Whistle. She looked at everyone with a frightened expression.

"Oh!" exclaimed Sindy with relief. "You had it! Why didn’t you tell us you wanted it?"

The girl did not reply. Instead, she slowly took a step back. Then she turned and ran. There was silence in the room for a moment. "Now that was strange," said Courtney, the Drummer. "Why was Helen in costume?"

At that moment, the girl in gold came running back into the room, her eyes wide with fright, and tears in her eyes.

"What on earth happened?" exclaimed Mona, a Singer in the Troubadours. "Are you all right?"

The girl held out her hands. In each hand was half of the Tin Whistle.

"What --?" began Bob, then he looked up at the door. "Daire?" he asked.

Another figure had stopped abruptly in the doorway. He was dressed in black and silver, and had a mask covering the upper half of his face.

"What’s going on?" Angela, a vocalist, asked. "Daire, what kind of game are you playing?"

The man in the doorway did not answer. He turned and disappeared down the hallway.

Rebecca, the Auto Harpist shook her head. "I don’t get it. Helen, for goodness sake, what happened?"

"Were you looking for me?" Helen Egan asked as she walked into the room. "I was just passing by, and heard someone call my name, so I ..." She broke off as she caught sight of the figure in gold standing front of her.

"Uh, guys," Julie Lastinger, Fiddler to the Court, said after a moment of silence, "Am I going crazy, or is this girl really the Little Spirit?"

The girl looked at Julie almost gratefully, and nodded vigorously.

"And that," said Bob, pointing out the doorway, was really Don Dorcha?"

The Little Spirit nodded.

"And he broke your flute?"

She nodded again, sadly.

"Whoa," Helen said, sighing deeply. "I think we’d better take this to Michael."
 
 

In the Royal Suite, Michael relaxed on the couch, Connor the cat in his lap. The room was filled today with people of the court, talking about last night’s performance, among other things. By the door rested Violet and Scarlet, the Royal Canines, while Rosie Rigg, the Royal Bodyguard stood beside them, alert to the movement of every person within ten feet of Michael. Gillian Norris was seated on a stool near the back of the room, while Amy, the Irish Collen stood behind her brushing her hair. Seated at one end of the bar in the corner, Karl and Emma were going over schedules, while at the other, end, Caeri, the Royal Bard sat writing, occasionally pointing something out to Tammy, her apprentice, who sat beside her. Behind the bar, Karen, from the Friends of Flatley Pub down the road, was checking the supply of Guinness. Bernadette, the Royal Manicurist was giving a manicure to Susan, the Keeper of the Tales, while Adrienne tended the fireplace at the end of the room and Elvis, the Royal Ghost and Inspiration stood silently in the corner. Tweetie fluttered around the room, making sure all the guests were comfortable.

"It was such a brilliant performance," Michael’s cousin, the Countess of Carlow was saying.

"What a triumph for Kaz’s latest construction project," said Sherry, a Lady of the Court. "As project manager for the building of Jacqueline’s Theatre, she and Jacqueline must be very pleased with that kind of Grand Opening."

"Oh, definitely," replied "Siamsa", Trish O’Donnell. "I couldn’t sit still, I was so excited."

"No kidding!" replied Sherrie, Keeper of the Keys. "I was sitting next to you!"

In another group, Felicia Curtis, the Royal Courtesan,  was talking to Sarah Helzisour and Sheila Flynn, both Ladies of the Court.

"Did you hear what Guenevere said to that critic?"

"No," said Sarah, "I heard something had happened, but nothing specific."

"Well, she and Nara were taking on one of the nastier critics, and he said something really uncalled for," Felicia explained. "So Guenevere made use of one of Laura’s Irish phrases, and said ‘Go seinne sé siar ort!’"

Sheila, gasped, but couldn’t help smiling. "Did she really?"

"Yes. The critic didn’t understand a word, of course, but Nara burst into laughter."

"Are you talking about that critic?" Kim Baker asked as she, LeeAnn, and  Shirls joined the group.

"Yes, replied Sarah.

"Well, we always said that critic was full of hot air!" Shirls said.
A couple of the ladies groaned good-naturedly, then Kim added, "I understand that Amanda has been faithfully defending Michael."

Lee Ann nodded. "She may be a teenager but she she is an excellent defender."

"Shepherd, the Royal Paladin is also an excellent warrior." Sarah added. "Her skilled use of logic has cut many a critic down in their prime."

In the window seat, Julie, the Royal Motivational Co-ordinator said to Lyona, the Royal Pep Talker, "After last night’s performance, we hardly have any work to do today."
Lyona nodded. "Everyone is so revved up, I guess we can consider this our vacation."
By the fireplace, another conversation was taking place. Linda and Jeremy, both representatives of the U.K. were talking with Zammi, the Prime Minister, and Roy, the Ambassador to Oz.

"I’m so glad political relations between the U.K. and Flatleyland are improving," Linda was saying.

"Yes, we have managed to develop a much better relationship," Zammi replied.

"The relationship with Oz is quite healthy, I would say," said Roy.

"Yes," Zammi nodded. "We appreciate your work in that area." Roy nodded acknowledgment of her comment.
Jeremy gestured towards the other side of the room, "Now there is a person skilled in diplomacy."

They looked over towards Marion P., Ambassador to Dohertyland, deep in conversation with the Ambassador to the Heartland, Lauren Butler, and the Ambassador to Riverdance, Susan Simmons.

"All of them are skilled diplomats," said Cynthi, the Royal Representative of the Baby Boomers, as she joined the conversation. "I’ve dealt with them before." All nodded their agreement.

In another corner, Jake, the Court Jester, was showing his latest Top Ten List to Jacqueline, Sharon, Aiovelle and Halcyon.  "Oh, Jake," exclaimed Jacqueline, "that one is one of your best."

"I didn’t get number four, though," added Aiovelle, "but it was still great."

"Thanks," he replied modestly. "I liked that one myself."

Sharon laughed. "And what did his lordship say?"

Jake smiled with satisfaction. "The same thing Jacqueline just said."

Halcyon put in, "As your Understudy, I am glad I was with you when you wrote that one, Jake." She smiled slyly, "I may plagiarise it some day."

As they all laughed, a commotion at the door turned their attention in that direction.

"Michael!" called Mona, as she and Helen stood at the doorway.

He looked up, and when he saw their expressions he stood up.  "Yes, Mona?"

With a deep breath, Mona replied, "May I present -- the Little Spirit!"

Coming in hesitantly behind Mona and Helen was the girl dressed in gold. A murmur arose around the room, and the Little Spirit looked around in fright.

Seeing this, CathyMom shook off her own surprise and slowly came over to where she stood. "Now don’t be frightened, dear," she said gently. "No one here is going to hurt you."

The girl responded to the gentle tones, and allowed CathyMom to put her arm around her and lead her toward the couch. Seeing Michael, she immediately ran towards him. She stopped about a foot away from him, and showed him her broken flute.

Michael eyed with bewilderment the pieces in her hand, then looked up at Mona and Helen. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"I don’t know!" cried Mona. "She came to the music room ... we thought it was Helen at first ... But then Don Dorcha appeared ..."

"Wait!" Michael held up his hand. "Don Dorcha?" He looked around. "Daire, you haven’t been down to the music room today, have you?"

Daire shook his head. "No, I came here right after breakfast. But who was in the music room, then?"

"That’s what I’m trying to tell you!" Mona replied. "It wasn’t Daire, it was the Dark Lord himself! For real!"

Everyone in the room started talking at once. The tale was simply too incredible.

Michael turned to the Little Spirit, and led her to the couch; the two of them sat down, and Michael motioned for silence. Deah the Royal Shusher started calming everyone down. "Hush, everyone, quiet down!"

As quiet returned to the room, every eye focused on the two figures seated on the sofa.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Michael asked.

The Little Spirit looked at him, but sadly shook her head.

"You can’t speak?"

She shook her head again.

Michael took a deep breath. Then he said, "We can’t know how to help you if you can’t tell us what happened. Come on, darlin’ try. I think you can speak, if you try."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. He reached over and stroked her cheek gently, whispering softly, "Try, darlin’."

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I came out of the show!" she said, her eyes opening wide with surprise at her own voice. A murmur went through the crowd again, but Deah quickly quieted them.

"I came out of the show," she said again. "And so did Don Dorcha."

"How?" asked Michael.

She shook her head. "I don’t know. The performance ended, but somehow, we remained. I wandered out through the house," she continued, "and at daylight, I went outside, in the garden. I was frightened out there, so I came back, and explored. I found my flute ..." she looked down at the pieces in her hand. "I heard music, so I went there, but they called me Helen, and wanted to know why I had the flute. When I ran out of there, I met Don Dorcha in the hallway." She sighed. "He grabbed my flute and broke it. I was just able to pick up the pieces when I saw him coming towards me again, so I ran back to the other room."

"Michael," said Janice Morgan, Dream Weaver, "could this be? Have your dreams come to life?"

"So it would seem," he answered.

From one corner, Karen D. whispered to the faerie perched on her shoulder. "No, Tink. Now would not be a good time to discuss faerie dusting techniques with the Little Spirit. Hush, now!" She turned her attention back toward the centre of the room.

Bernadette Flynn shuddered, "So the real Don Dorcha is loose in the court?"

"I don’t like that idea at all," added Gillian.

"Don’t worry Bernadette," Matt said valiantly. "I’ll protect you."

Dan Burke added, "And I’ll protect you, Gillian." The two girls smiled in their direction.

Tina Stremick, the Royal Archer said, "He better not get in the way of one of my arrows"

"He belongs in the dungeon," added G.R. Jacks, the Royal Headsman and Dungeon Guard.

"He belongs in the show," corrected Jan, the Lady of the Linedancers. "But how do we get him there?"

The question hung in the air for a moment. As everyone contemplated what the answer could possibly be, there was another commotion in the hallway just outside the Royal Suite.

"No, Debbie, I won’t accept that!" Lisa, the Children’s Advocate of Flatleyland was saying, as she and Katie, the Special Ambassador for Children, entered the room with Debbie Hoppe. "This is one time you can’t ‘kiss and make it all better’"

"Calm down, Lisa," Debbie tried to say, but Lisa was not listening. She marched right over to Daire and said,
How could you?"

Katie nodded, "Yes, what were you thinking? Frightening young children like that?"

Michael stood up and crossed over to where the ladies faced Daire. "What happened?" he asked gently.

"What happened," Lisa replied emphatically, "is that this --" she jerked her head toward Daire, "this -- showed up in the Children’s Room dressed like the Dark Lord." Michael and Daire exchanged glances as Lisa continued.
He knocked over some blocks the children were playing with, broke the train set, and almost knocked over Hamlet’s cage! Viv is calming LilHamlet down now."

Michael sighed. "We’d better go up. Lacy, Katie, and Bawlmer Lisa" he called to his head of security and Chief of Police, and Captain of the Guards, "You’d better come with us. Lisa, it wasn’t Daire,"

She looked at him disbelievingly. "Who was it then?"

"That" he replied, "is a long story. Come on, I’ll tell you on the way up."
 
 

In the Children’s Room things were in an uproar -- several children were still crying and Si-Si, the Official LilPup of Flatleyland was barking. Mary Lou, the Nanny, was one by one calming the children down. Ketsa, the Official Grandma of Flatleyland was holding two children on her lap murmuring, "It’s all right, hush now." Cacie and Tristan, Royal Light Givers, rushed over to the group entering the room.

"Well?" asked Tristan eagerly.

Lisa smiled down at him. "You were right, Tristan. It wasn’t Daire."

"I knew it!" he cried.

"Even Yertle was upset," Cacie said, pointing at the glass case that housed the Official Turtle of Flatleyland. "We just knew it couldn’t be Daire."

"What?" Jane, the Royal Midwife called from the corner where she sat beside Chris Settecase, the Royal Alchemist who was currently expecting. "Who was it then?"

"Don Dorcha himself," replied Katie Ryan, Flatleyland’s Police Chief, "Seems that he has somehow come to life."

Chris instinctively placed her hand on her abdomen protectively, and asked, "Has he been caught?"

Michael shook his head. "We need to spread the alarm. Lacy, get your knights on this as fast as possible."

She nodded. "I’ll divide them in teams and assign them patrols," she said. "We’ll find him, Michael."

He nodded approval, and turned towards LilJen and LilKel. "Are you two all right to keep an eye on things here?"

"Yes!" they cried in unison. "Don’t worry, Michael." Jen added. "It’s our sworn duty to protect all the Lil People of Flatleyland."

Si-Si barked in agreement.
 

Meanwhile, in the Library, Diana, Scholar to the King, was looking for a particular book in Celtic literature. As she crossed an aisle between the shelving, she saw a shadow move a couple of rows down. Shari, another Scholar, had promised to come down so they could study the historical accuracy of a screenplay that had been submitted for consideration to the court, but she had not yet arrived. Thinking perhaps that the shadow belonged to her, Diana started towards that row, when she heard a disturbance at the front of the Library. Abandoning her original intention, she turned around and headed towards the Librarian’s desk.

There she found Susan, the Royal Fussbudgit with Tierney, the King’s Protege, talking excitedly to Elaine, the Librarian, and Paige, the Royal Reference Librarian.

"But how?" Elaine was saying.

"No one knows," Tierney replied.

"Did hear that right?" Diana asked as she joined the group. "Don Dorcha has somehow escaped from the show?"

Susan was nodding, when they heard a crash and a scream from the rear of the Library.

"That came from the rare book section," Paige exclaimed. "Juliane was back there!"

They all dashed towards the source of the noise. As they did, they met a man dressed in black and silver. The upper half of his face was masked. He stopped suddenly. Susan gasped, and all stared. Then, slowly, the masked man advanced towards the four women.
 

Michael, the Little Spirit close beside him, Lacy, Katie Ryan, and Bawlmer Lisa were coming downstairs, just as Vicky Brookinas came running up.

"The Library," she said breathlessly, "He was just in the library!"

They ran across the great hall, towards the West Wing, and down the hallway towards the Library. There they found Denise, the Bishop of Flatleyland, and Cynammon, the Royal Cleric comforting Juliane as she sat in a chair, still shaking.

"What happened?" Bawlmer Lisa asked.

Pat Di Carlo answered. "Denise, Cyn, and I were over there," she began gesturing towards the Religion section, when we heard a crash ..."

"He was suddenly just there," Juliane said. "I was illuminating a manuscript, when he came around the corner, and without hesitation swept everything from my table onto the floor -- ink, paper, pens -- everything!"

"I came running from the Philosophy section," explained Babzee, "just in time to see Don Dorcha facing these four."

"We came running from Elaine’s desk," Paige added, "And met him on the way out ..."

"He pushed me!" Elaine said furiously, "He pushed me out of his way, and ran out!"

"Did you see which way he went?"

"I did," answered Karen, the Royal Scribe, who had also been working in the Library when the incident occured. "Outside the door, he turned to the left."
 
Michael thought for a second. "The AV Room is down that way. I wonder ..."
 

In the AV Room they found Kathleen Nelson-Serenco, the Royal Lyrical Web Spinner, telling those present about the strange events of the day.

"Michael," she broke off upon seeing him enter, "he was just here!"

"Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me," he replied.

"I was just watching the video," Jill began.

"Finding glitches, no doubt," Bawlmer Lisa smiled.

"Yes," Jill replied with a grin, "anyway, he came in --"

"I thought it was Daire at first," said Bruce, the Court Chamberlain, "but he looked at us all strangely, then saw the television screen.

"He just kind of froze and stared at it." Ashley explained.

"It was right at the duel scene," Jill added.

Michael raised his eyebrows. "And what did he do then?"

"Nothing," responded Heli, the Royal Video Technician, "He turned around and ran out."

"Which way?" asked Katie.

"To the right, I think." replied Mitzi, the Royal Investigator.

Michael sighed. "Okay, thanks. Let’s head to the right!"
 

By the time they reached the office, Gail, the Royal FBI agent was there, questioning Michael Larivee, the Royal Central Assistant.

"So after he came through the door ..." Gail was saying, gesturing towards the door just as the group entered.
"Oh, hello, Michael. Someone told me Don Dorcha was loose, so I was coming to the office to investigate some old files, and this is what I found."

"What happened?" Michael asked, feeling like he was asking that question quite a lot for one day.

"Just look around,’ answered the Central Assistant.

They did. They saw  Joy, Keeper of the Rubber Stamps, trying to put the things on her desk back in order. Diarmaid, the Royal Webmaster, was at the computer, making sure it was working properly. Laurie, the Royal Banker, and Robin, the Royal Budget Analyst, were sitting together, trying to put ledgers and spreadsheets back in order. Anne Marie Ward, the Royal Mathmatician, was beside them working with a calculator. Beth, the Royal Secretary was picking files up off the floor, with Ce’Lanne, the Royal Riddler, helping her. Terry, a representative of the kingdom, was checking computer disks for damage.

"He just came in and made a mess of things." Teri, the Keeper of the King’s Computer said.
"We kept him away from your computer, though."

"At least he didn’t destroy anything," Merrybeth Parrish, the Royal Insurance Broker said.

"But this is a disgrace!" cried Kathy Allen, the District Attorney and Public Defender. "We’ll press charges!"

"How do you press charges against someone who isn’t supposed to exist?" asked Ce’Lanne.

No answer was forthcoming. Finally, the Little Spirit, who had been quietly following, broke the silence. "Michael, my flute has to be repaired."

He turned to her, and said gently, "This isn’t the show, darlin’. I can’t just put it behind my back and put it together."

The Little Spirit nodded. "Not here, you can’t. But in the Theatre ..." she stopped.

Michael’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"We have to go to the Theatre to fix my flute," she said. "We have to re-enact that scene."

He seemed to hesitate a moment as he thought about the suggestion. "Do we need lighting, music, and all that?"

"Yes," the Little Spirit replied, "We need to be in the show for the magic to work."

With a deep breath, Michael said, "Okay. We’ll give it a try. Lacy, get your knights on patrol. Bawlmer Lisa, alert the guards to be on the lookout. Katie, find Jean and spread the word that no one is to try to apprehend Don Dorcha on their own. Okay?"

They all nodded, and hurried from the room.

Michael turned to Terry. "Could you go to the Radio Room and alert the Air Force. Greenflyte Leader and Lady Di need to put on alert.

"Certainly, Michael," she replied.

He turned to the rest of the people in the room. "I need a few of you to find the lighting and stage crews, and the band as quickly as possible."

A chorus of agreement greeted him as everyone in the room stood ready to help.

"Good!" he nodded. "Come on, Spirit," he smiled at her. "Let’s go fix your flute."
 

Katie Ryan quickly found Constable Jean French, and together they began making rounds. Passing Kelly, the Royal Flag Bearer in the hall, they warned her to keep a close watch on the flag. "We really don’t know what Don Dorcha might do," said Jean, "so just be careful."

"Don’t worry," said Kelly firmly, "I will be very careful -- what was that noise?" She turned her head sharply to the left. The two constables looked also, and relaxed as they saw Aynslie, the Headmistress of Flatleyland Academy, leading a group of active fourth-graders down the hall.

"Hello," Aynslie greeted them. "We were just on a field trip to the Royal Kitchen and are heading back to class now."

"Keep your eyes open," Jean said with a glance at the children.

"Be careful," Katie added in a low voice so the children wouldn’t hear her.

Aynslie nodded. "I know," she replied. "If we see the Dark Lord, we’ll head in the opposite direction."
 

AngelAnn and Jennifer, both Knights of Flatleyland, alertly patrolled the corridor upstairs. As they rounded a
corner, they almost ran into Danielle, the Royal Quiltmaker, running the other way.

"What’s up, Danielle?" asked Jennifer.

"I just saw Don Dorcha!" she answered.

AngelAnn exclaimed, "What! Where?"

"In the quilting room!" she replied, pointing down the hall. "I was working on a new quilt when I looked up, and there he was, standing in the doorway watching me! As soon as he saw that I had seen him, he turned and ran."

"Well he didn’t pass us," Jennifer said. "Come on, AngelAnn!"

The two knights sprinted down the hallway. They stopped at the Royal Bedroom and slowly stepped inside. They found several people at work.

"Has anyone in here seen Don Dorcha?" AngelAnn asked.

DJ Milnes looked up from the heels she was polishing, startled. "No. Should we have?"

Jessica Correll, the King’s Shoe Shiner groaned. "Don’t tell me he’s been seen up here!"

"Yes," Jennifer nodded. "Just a moment ago."

"Well, he didn’t stop here," Bernadette Price said as she continued to shine earrings.

Marilyn sat next to her, also polishing the diamonds. "Good thing, too." she added. We wouldn’t want him
making a mess in here of all places."

"What’s going on?" asked Judy Sykes, the Royal Bather, as she and Susan Smith, her assistant stepped out of the Bathroom.

"Don Dorcha is loose up here," replied D.J.

Their eyes widened and Susan said, "Well, I hope he stays out of here. What would he want with towels and bath supplies anyway?"

"What does he want at all?" AngelAnn said, as she and Jennifer turned towards the hall. "Thanks anyway, girls."
 

While the two knights continued their search upstairs, Gena, Margaret and Charlotte, patrolled the perimeter of
the house. As they came round to the Garage, they saw Pamela Onnen working on the Royal Harley.

"Hi, Pamela," Gina greeted. "Seen anything unusual today?"

"Like the Dark Lord for instance?" she asked. "Denise was out here earlier telling us about it. And no, he hasn’t been near us."

"He better stay away, too," said Marianne Solberg, the Royal Chaffeur, as she polished the limo. "I will not stand for anyone with malicious intent coming anywhere near his lordship’s cars."

Charlotte smiled. "We know, Marianne. Had the Lamborghini out lately?"

Marianne nodded with a smile of satisfaction. "Yes. It needs it’s exercise. Hey, Margaret, weren’t you going to come for a drive with me?"

Margaret looked at her suspiciously. "I don’t know, can I trust you behind the wheel of a Lamborghini?"

Their banter was interrupted by Julee, the Royal Birthday Twin. "Have any of you seen my cat, Ebony?"

"The Royal Cat of Don Dorcha?" Margaret asked.

"Oh, we called him that just for fun," Julee said.

The knights looked at each other. "I wonder ... " said Charlotte thoughtfully.
 

Meanwhile, Cindy, Lartha, and Jim Quinn were passing the Lake on the way out to the farm. Geneveive, the Lady of the Lake, was sitting at it’s edge, her feet dangling in the water.

"Hi, Geneveive, have you seen anything unusual today?" Jim asked her.

"Yes!" she called. "Zooey the cat was chasing Ebony up a tree!"
 "That’s unusual?" asked Lartha.

"Very" Geneveive replied. "They usually get along."

The knights continued walking, wondering if the strange behaviour of the animals was related to the sudden appearance of the show characters. As they approached the farm, they met Kelly, the Royal Petkeeper, her assistant, Jo-Ann, and Susan, the Royal Cat Litter Changer.

"Hello!" called Kelly. "We were just up to the farm to warn them about Don Dorcha!"

"Even though our responsibility is the pets in the house," JoAnn added, "we were are little concerned about the animals out here."

"That was good of you," replied Lartha. "What did they say?"

"They said they would take precautions," replied Susan.
With a wave, the three walked towards the house, while the knights made their way to the farm. Shar, the Royal Farmer, was just coming out of the hen house with a basketful of eggs.
"Greetings!" she called.

"Greetings!" answered Cindy.

"We understand you’ve already heard about the excitement at the house," said Jim.

Shar nodded. "Kelly was here with Susan and JoAnn."
At that moment, Chris, the Royal Horsewoman, came from the stables, accompanied by Jim Dorman, Royal
Stable Boy, Marie and Caroline, two Grooms.

"I’ve checked the horses," Chris said. "Everything seems to be fine."

"I still think the horses are nervous, though," Marie said.

Chris nodded. "They probably sense the anxiety in the air."

"It’s important that no one tries to be a hero here," said Lartha. "If you do see Don Dorcha, find one of us, and we’ll deal with it."

"I’m happy enough to stay away from him," replied Caroline.

"You really think he’s dangerous?" Jim asked.
 "Yes!" Cindy responded emphatically.

"Who is dangerous?" asked Beverley, the Keeper of the Royal Unicorn, who had not been present when the Kelly, JoAnn and Susan had been at the farm earlier.

Cindy began to answer her, "Well, Beverley, it’s like this ..."
 

With the knights scattered all over the grounds, Don Dorcha slipped through the door to the East Wing, where the Theatre was located.  He could hear instructions being shouted as the stage was quickly set up. A slow smile spread across his face as he quietly moved into the shadows.
 

All was ready. Michael emerged from his dressing room wearing the black T-Shirt, leather pants, and headband he usually wore in this scene. As he stepped on stage, he saw the Little Spirit waiting for him.

"Thank you, Michael," she said simply.

"Don’t thank me yet," he replied. "First we have to see if this will work."

"It will," she said. "This is the land of your dreams. But it is my home." She smiled. "This will not be the first time you have seen your dreams become reality."

He looked at her thoughtfully, then nodded. "Okay, darlin’" He looked toward the band. "Ready?"

"Ready, Michael," they called.

"Okay, cue the lights!"

The stage lights came down as the spotlights were turned on. The music began, slow and haunting, and, somehow, the Little Spirit and Michael stepped into the show. She held out her broken flute with the hope that the Lord of the Dance could mend it.

He looked at her with concern, conscious that this was not like any other performance. Slowly, he reached out and took the pieces, seemed to weigh them in his hands, and looked carefully at the girl who watched him. Then he put the pieces behind his back, and brought them together...

He was never able to describe exactly what happened next. He felt the pieces fit themselves together, brought the flute out from behind his back, and found, as much to his own surprise as anyone else’s that the flute was now whole!

As he handed it to the Little Spirit, who gratefully took it, the music of the segment came to an end and he whispered, "It worked!"

"NO!" screamed a voice from stage right. Don Dorcha stood there pointing at Michael. The Little Spirit’s eyes widened, she grasped more tightly to her flute, and, without a word, turned and ran!

The Dark Lord was not interested in her. He had found his voice, and now said, "It will not be like before! This time, I WIN!" The words echoed in the rafters of Theatre, and from the shadows came the Warriors. They closed in on Michael within seconds. He was badly outnumbered, and never had a chance. Michael looked around for his lighting crews, the band, anyone, but there was no one to be seen, no one except the Dark Lord and his men. He was trapped somewhere between fantasy and reality, at the line where the two meet -- and it was Don Dorcha who was in control.
 

The Little Spirit ran through the East Wing door into the main part of the house. She almost ran into Beth Cavanaugh, the Royal Doctor and her assistant, Debi.

"Whoa," exclaimed Beth, "What’s the hurry?"

"Venice!" cried the Little Spirit. "I must find Venice!"

"I think I saw her in the Royal Suite," said Debi, "What --?"

"Don Dorcha," the Little Spirit said as she started to back away, "He has Michael -- in the Theatre!" She turned and ran toward the Royal Suite.

Beth and Debi looked at each other, then ran in the opposite direction, towards the Theatre.
 

Two warriors held his arms, while the rest formed a semi-circle around him, preventing any possibility of escape.

"This time," Don Dorcha said softly, "You won’t come back."

Michael held his gaze without flinching, but there was a slightly puzzled note in his voice as he replied, "These are all just special effects. The lights, the explosions -- it’s all part of the show. They aren’t real."

"Oh?" Don Dorcha asked, then raised his hand, two fingers extended, as a pistol. He aimed at Michael, but then raised his hand further, toward the lights above them, cocked his hand and motioned as if firing a weapon. A ball of light streaked from his hand upwards, there was a loud pop, and one of the lights went out.

There was a moment of silence, as Michael stared with disbelief at the light that was no longer there, before Don Dorcha said, "Was that real enough?"
 

The Little Spirit burst into the Royal Suite and cried, "Is Venice in here!"

Venice looked up from the conversation she was having with Gregg, Eire Jedi, and Bruce, the Guardian of the MF Widowers. "I’m here," she answered, startled.

"I need help, there’s no time!" she exclaimed. "You have the Gold Dust and I need it. NOW!"

Venice had already got up and come over to the Little Spirit who still stood at the door. "Okay, okay, calm down. What’s going on?"

"Don Dorcha has Michael -- in the Theatre -- oh, please, hurry!"

As the Little Spirit grabbed Venice’s hand and pulled her from the room, Gregg looked with concern at Bruce and  David Allen, the Pipe Major. "You think we should get over there?"

"Definitely," David replied as he stood up. "How could this have happened?"

"Does it matter?" Bruce said. "Let’s go."

"I’m coming, too," said Lady Fiona, Official Positive Energy Giver, and the only other inhabitant of the room. "Sounds like we need all the positive energy we can get."

The three men nodded and they all hurried towards the Theatre.
 

"Night after night." Don Dorcha was saying as he paced back and forth in front of Michael. "Night after night it has always been the same." He paused. "Defeated!" he yelled. "Again and again." He stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Michael. "But not tonight!" He raised his hand again, with two fingers extended. then said in a softer voice, "Not tonight."
 

Venice opened the mahogany box in which she kept the gold dust. The Little Spirit quickly grabbed a few handfuls and filled the small bag at her hip. Without a word she spun around and headed towards the door, Venice following. As they raced down the corridor, they passed Debbie Weber and Michele Berg, both Royal Nurses.

"Where are you going in such a hurry!" Debbie called after them.

Venice called back over her shoulder. "Michael needs us. In the Theatre!"

Michele looked at Debbie, and they turned to follow the fleeing figures.
 

Hand still raised, his fingers pointing directly at the ceiling, Don Dorcha abruptly turned and , in military fashion , marched about eight paces away from Michael. No fear showed in Michael’s face, though he felt it inside, not only for himself, but for his whole kingdom. The Dark Lord stopped, turned to face Michael once again. A small, evil smile crept over his lips as he slowly extended his arm to take aim.
 

The Little Spirit ran down the stairs, across the great hall, through the reception area and through the door to the East Wing. Others were behind her, for word had spread quickly that something serious was happening at the Theatre. But the Little Spirit was no longer aware of the people around here. "I have to be on time!" she thought desperately. "Please let me be on time!"
 

Any fear he had felt had melted into a profound sadness for his people. He hoped they would be able to carry on, that from their ranks would emerge a leader who could defeat Don Dorcha, who would surely now try to conquer the land.

As the Dark Lord took aim, Michael braced himself. But then he caught sight of movement just behind Don Dorcha. A small figure dressed in gold crept from the wings. Hope flared in his heart as she raised her hands and threw the gold dust just as Don Dorcha fired.

Michael felt something hit him, and all the strength seemed to flee his body. He went limp, and heard a voice call, "Michael!" just before he lost consciousness.
 

The Little Spirit ran towards Michael, while Don Dorcha called out "Too late! You were too late!" He laughed as his Warriors, leaving Michael on the floor, surrounded him.

"Now we will go and conquer this land!" he shouted, as his men saluted him. They paid no attention to the Little Spirit crouching beside Michael’s body.

She felt for his pulse, then smiled softly, "Not too late," she whispered, and reached into her pouch with another handful of gold dust. As she sprinkled it on him, his eyes slowly opened. He looked up into the Little Spirit’s face and smiled.

"Thanks, darlin’" he whispered.
 He could feel his strength returning and he slowly sat up. As he got to his feet, he heard Don Dorcha saying to his warriors, "First we take the house! Then we can move out from there to conquer the rest of this land!"

"Don Dorcha," Michael called. "You may need to put those plans on hold."

The Dark Lord’s head whipped around toward Michael, fear and anger blazing from his eyes. "NO!" he cried. "NOT AGAIN!" His warriors panicked, and began to run into the wings, to be swallowed by the shadows.

"Come back here, you fools!" Don Dorcha shouted, but to no avail.

"It’s just you and me again," Michael said. He gestured with his hands. "Come on."

Suddenly the drum started beating. Don Dorcha threw a startled look in the direction of the band. The lighting came up, on cue. Michael smiled. His crew was back.

"Come on," Michael said again, inviting Don Dorcha to make the first move. He did.

Don Dorcha tapped out complicated rhythms, and Michael answered with over-the-top speed. Back and forth, back and forth, they battled. Michael was confident, yes, but he was also very aware that this was not just another performance. This was for real.

The two had matched tap for tap and both were tiring. Then Michael spun around and slowly started tapping. Don Dorcha circled him as he gained speed, his eyes showed fear, then he started backing away. Michael followed, still tapping at that incredible speed, until the Dark Lord simply turned and ran off the stage. There was a loud crack and a burst of light, and in an instant, he was gone!

"YES!" cried Michael.
"YES!" cried the lighting crews and the band.
"YES!" cried the audience, for by now the whole of Flatleyland had arrived at the Theatre. They had watched the duel silently, powerless to intervene. Relief swept through them to see that their King had, indeed, won.

The crew came running out on stage, high fiving Michael, and each other. Daire, Helen, Gillian, Bernadette, and Anne all emerged from the wings to congratulate Michael, and the whole Theatre erupted into stomping, clapping, and cheering.

Michael looked around for the Little Spirit, but she was nowhere to be seen. She, too had disappeared, back into the show which was her true home, the land of Michael’s dreams.

He looked out at the cheering audience, and waved; they just cheered louder.

He looked at his fellow cast members and shrugged with a knowing smile; they all grabbed hands and Michael shouted, "5-6-7-8 ....!"

THE END

Copyright by Donna Bain