“That is an important question, and the answer lies with those who can provide the answer to another, perhaps more pressing one: What happened to your Looking Glass Maze after you were removed from succession? I assure you, it did not cease to exist, and if you’re able to locate and navigate it…”
Redd understood. A maze intended solely for her, designed specifically to unharness the full power of her imagination? Alyss had gained surprising strength and skill by passing through her Looking Glass Maze. Yet she, Redd, had nearly conquered Alyss without passing through her own. The maze was everything. She would storm through as many of its false passages as necessary to complete it; she would become invincible.
“Earn your life, tutor. Where do I find my maze?”
“In the Garden of Uncompleted Mazes, of course. But where this garden is, I have no idea. You have to ask the oracles of Wonderland.”
“The caterpillars,” Redd sneered as a staircase of uneven stone came into view ahead of her. “I hate the caterpillars.”
Sacrenoir dropped his torch to the ground and kicked dirt over it to extinguish the flames. A slant of light
shone down on the stairs from above. Redd led the way up to the street. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the harshness of the morning sun, but even then-
“What’s this?”
Everywhere she looked: Parisians enveloped in hazy nimbuses, some gray, others as purple-dark as bruises, while still others were more or less radiant with a whitish glow.
“To some Wonderland eyes,” Vollrath said, “those gifted in White Imagination glow brightly while those given to Black Imagination glow darkly. It’s more difficult to notice the dark glow at night time. It’s an excellent thing to be able to discern friends and enemies at a distance. The dark glow will make it easier for us to find the soldiers you desire. You should see the cloud that hovers around you, Your Imperial Viciousness. It’s a wonder you’re visible at all.”
Redd examined herself-her arms, her feet. Everything appeared as it had since she’d stepped from the painter’s canvas. No bruise-dark aura.
“Wonderlanders can’t see their own glow,” Vollrath explained, “for the same reason that they’re usually not good judges of their own behavior. They do not see how they actually are, only how they perceive themselves.”
Redd stared out at the passing clouds of people. The Cat, his tail swishing, nimbly crossed from her right shoulder to her left.
“You needn’t tramp about the city with us, Your Imperial Viciousness,” said Sacrenoir. “Let Vollrath and me gather our acquaintances so that you can review them as a group. This will save you labor and give you time to plot a search for your Looking Glass Maze.”
“An idea worthy of my tutelage,” agreed Vollrath. “Mistress Heart, you will, I think, be intrigued by the
Hall of Mirrors in the Versailles Palace. Why not take in the sights Paris has to offer?” “Because, tutor,” Redd snorted, “I’d sooner kill you.”
CHAPTER 24
D ODGE, NOT usually one to linger over tokens of the past, was in his guardsman’s quarters picking over the few items he had salvaged from the former palace: a portrait of his father he’d drawn when he was eight years old, a dented broach that had belonged to his long-dead mother, and a packet of letters he’d written during Redd’s reign but never sent.
He set the portrait prominently on the mantel and moved the dining table in front of the glowing hearth, laying out two place settings and a pitcher of winglefruit juice. There was nothing left to do but wait.
“No talent for waiting,” he said to himself.
He had volunteered to go after the Diamonds and Alyss had ignored him. In front of everybody. He thought it important for her to understand a couple of things. He surveyed the room again, hoping to find some final preparation that needed doing, but all was in order.
Bleep, bleep bleep bleep, bleep.
His crystal communicator sounded with the agreed-upon signal. Any moment Alyss would be passing down the hall to the sovereign suite. He pulled smooth the sleeves of his guardsman’s coat and squared his shoulders, to appear as official as possible. He stepped to the door and out into the hall.
“Queen Alyss, my guards have discovered something I think you should see.”
Her face had relaxed at the sight of him, but her brow at once contracted, her lips thinned with tension. “We’ve found evidence of suspicious activity in the palace,” he said.
“What sort of activity?”
“You might want to step this way and see for yourself. I apologize in advance for your having to set foot in a guardsman’s quarters.”
He led her into his rooms. The boyish portrait of Sir Justice, the fire crystals in the hearth, the elegantly arrayed table: Alyss blinked in puzzlement.
“What is all this?”
“My best guess, Your Majesty, is that it’s breakfast, but I can’t be sure until we taste it.” Which was when she realized. “Dodge,” she said quietly.
A guardsman entered carrying a pair of covered serving dishes, set them on the table and departed. Dodge pulled out a chair for Alyss and, once she was seated, assumed the role of gallant host.
“On platter number one,” he said, “we have what I believe is your favorite-Chef Blanchaud’s mysterious hash, which I agree is delicious even if we don’t know what’s in it.” He lifted the cover of the serving dish and steam escaped toward the ceiling. “On platter number two…” he removed the cover of the second dish with a flourish, “…we have half-baked cakes with choco-nibblies.”
“Mmm.”
He transferred one of the cakes to her plate, ladled out a spoonful of hash for her and filled her glass with winglefruit juice, then served himself and sat down.
“You did all of this?” Alyss asked.
“I wouldn’t even let the walrus help me. And he wanted very much to help.” “It’s all so lovely, Dodge. And delicious.”
He watched her cut a small piece of cake with the side of her fork and lift it to her mouth. There were lines under her eyes, silhouetted crescent moons cupping the underside of her eye sockets.
“Are you tired?”
“I’m almost always tired.”
He nodded. He had yet to touch his food. “Alyss, do you remember back when we were…I guess I was nine, so you must’ve been six, and we used to play Guardsmen and Maidens?”
“I remember everything.”
“We used to make up a lot of games, didn’t we?”
“I enjoyed them more than I do the real thing…until now.”
“Well…I think you’re old enough now to hear the truth, Alyss. I used to let you win.”
“Ha! You thought that whenever I did win, it was because I’d cheated, I’d used my imaginative powers.” “It was.”
She smiled. “If it pleases you to think so.”
Dodge shifted the hash around on his plate. “Besides bringing me close to you, the purpose of some of those games was to improve my combat skills so that I’d be able to protect you whenever the need arose, as befitted a palace guardsman. Funny then that now it’s you who are trying to protect me.”
He looked at her. She paused, her glass of winglefruit juice held at her lips. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I survived for thirteen years in your absence with wrath and vengeance in my heart-it might even have been these that kept me alive. I’d rather not be governed by these passions, but you can’t hope to rid me of them by putting yourself between me and The Cat.”
Alyss said nothing and stared at the fire crystals in the hearth.