He thoroughly crushed the ID chip against a rock, returned it to the first-aid kit. He upended the satchel and let the lone item it still contained drop into his palm. As slim and compact as a playing card, it resembled a typical book from Earth in every detail except size: Weaver’s diary. What he’d hoped and feared to find.
Mustering his courage, Hatter pressed the sides of the diminutive book, the covers sprang open and- More than three lunar cycles after arriving here, the man who had fought too many battles to remember,
who had faced a thousand different deaths and come away from all of them more or less intact, suffered
the blow of his life when the 3-D image of Weaver materialized and he heard the sound of her voice. “Hatter, my love, we never got a chance to say good-bye.”
CHAPTER 10
Most continuum travelers had to concentrate on their destinations to keep from being projected out of a looking glass portal at some undesired location. Portals were stationed throughout Wonderland; the interlinked channels they created could prove slow going for inexperienced travelers who might enter a portal with the intention of visiting the Unnatural History Museum across town only to find themselves projected out of one at the end of their block. Navigating the continuum took time and practice. But on this particular day, at this particular hour, even the most skilled travelers were helpless. Commuters streaming home after a long day at work, families returning from visits with friends or relatives: One moment they were traveling along the continuum’s network of crystalline byways, the next they were shot out of the nearest looking glass like cannon fodder, their limbs flailing desperately for purchase on something, anything.
Wondertropolis descended into tumult: the cries of the injured; the breathless reassurances and urgent calls of those rendering first aid; the bawling of frightened children; the moans and prayers of the superstitious who thought a sky raining Wonderlanders signified the end of the world. All was shock, confusion, pain, in the midst of which lay the girl who had caused it, unconscious, untended to, and unnoticed by everyone save two Boarderlanders on an illicit errand for their King.
Whoomp!
A bright hot force knocked Molly unconscious as what few splinters remained of the once beautiful chest fell from her hands. Catapulted out of a looking glass on Theodora Avenue, she landed hard on the
quartz-and-pyrite-mottled pavement, in front of a pet store full of squawking tuttle-birds and screeching lizards. Even before her homburg came tumbling out of the continuum after her, four seekers began to circle in the sky above, signaling her location.
Deaf to the injured Wonderlanders strewn about the desperate streets, blind to everything save the seekers, Ripkins and Blister stepped onto Theodora Avenue and sighted their quarry. As they approached, Ripkins shook his head, dismissive of the young bodyguard.
“What could Arch want with her?”
Blister said nothing, not one to try and guess Arch’s motives the way Ripkins did. What did he care of motives so long as he got to use his gift of touch to hurt people? He noticed Molly’s homburg on the pavement and picked it up. He had never seen a Milliner’s hat in operation before, but with the instinct of one given to all things military, he flicked it and-
Fwap!
It flattened into a razor-edged shield.
Ripkins scanned the scene: no one was watching. Lucky them.
“Are we supposed to be impressed?” Blister scorned, returning the homburg to its original shape. Ripkins took Molly’s limp body in his arms, laid her over his shoulder, and Blister led the way through
the alleys of the city. Not until the assassins had crossed back into Boarderland did they make contact with their king, who was in his palace with his ministers when the alert came and Blister’s face hovered before him.
“We have her,” the assassin said.
A LYSS WALKED purposefully through the palace’s night-dimmed halls, through three state rooms and as many parlors, trying to convince herself that her sole aim was to become more familiar with her new home, but…
Can’t I even admit it to myself?
She was looking for Dodge. To seek him with her imagination’s eye had felt like spying. Now, if and when she found him, she would feign surprise and say that she was simply exploring the palace, familiarizing herself with its well-appointed rooms, glittering floors, tumbled stone staircases that resembled frozen waterfalls, hand-hewn balustrades, and spacious landings.
She stepped out into the courtyard. The sunflowers and poppies slept under blankets of dew. Moonlight glinted off the war memorial’s obelisk for the anonymous dead. The Hereafter Plants, whose pistils resembled the faces of Genevieve, Nolan and Sir Justice Anders, cast wistful shadows across the walk.
Something sniffed, moved. Just as Alyss realized who it was, standing with bowed head at Sir Justice’s grave-
Dodge.
– he whirled around, the point of his sword aimed at her throat.
“Not the warmest way to greet your…” She was about to say “queen” but changed her mind. “…friend.” He immediately sheathed his weapon and fell to one knee. “I apologize, Your Highness. You surprised
me.”
“You surprised me,” she said. He expects an attack even here? He is too ready to fight. “I wish you’d get up, Dodge. You don’t belong at my feet.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue the matter, but he stood, saying only, “I thought you were with the
Heart Crystal, helping the military bases defend themselves.”
For better or worse, she’d stopped aiding the outposts when the reinforcement decks had arrived. She had needed to find him.
Dodge nodded toward her parents’ graves. “I’ll let you have some time alone.”
“No, stay,” she said quickly. “I was only…walking around.” She flapped a hand to take in the whole of the palace. “I’m trying to get used to this place.”
“Really?” He tugged at the lapels of his guardsman’s coat, adjusted the weight of his sword. “Then if Her
Majesty will allow me the honor, I would be pleased to accompany her on a guided tour.”
She would tell him nothing of the tour Bibwit had already provided. “Her Majesty will be pleased to have your company,” she said, “if you give over your formalities and call her by her given name.”
“Alyss,” he said, and offered his arm.
They entered the palace and walked for a time in silence.
Nice to have the warmth of him so close. Try not to feel guilty, the both of us strolling along as if card soldiers aren’t battling for their lives on the queendom’s outskirts.
“I was worried, Dodge,” she said. “Back at the crystal chamber. The look on your face at the possibility of Redd’s return. No one wants to lose you again to an all-consuming vengeance.”
“No one?”
Say it. Tell him. “Me.”
She felt blood rush to her face, hoped that he couldn’t see her blush in the half light. For an interminable moment his only response was the click-click of his heels on the marble floor, then-
“When you first returned to Wonderland, Alyss, I didn’t understand why you weren’t angry. I thought
you should’ve been twice as vengeful as I was, since Redd murdered your mother and father. It bothered me that you weren’t, and I couldn’t help thinking that, in some way, you were dishonoring their memory.”
“I don’t honor my parents through vengeance,” Alyss said. “I honor them by watching over the queendom to the best of my ability, for the continued glory of White Imagination. As they tried to do.”