“You must have fainted, madam,” said the walrus-butler. “I will get you some water, madam.” The walrus hurried out of the room. The queen remained silent for several moments, then- “The blue caterpillar was here.”
Hatter Madigan frowned and put a hand to the brim of his top hat. His eyes scanned the room. “I’m not quite sure what he showed me,” Genevieve said.
“I will inform General Doppelganger and the rest of the Millinery. We will prepare a defense for whatever’s coming.”
Just once, Queen Genevieve would have liked to relax the watchful vigilance she was forced to maintain every hour of every day to ensure Wonderland’s safety. The caterpillars’ prophecies were always so
vague. Sometimes their visions reflected only possibilities, the dark wishes of those who never planned to carry them out. But she couldn’t take a chance, not when it concerned Redd.
“Make sure not to alarm our guests,” she said. “Of course.” Hatter bowed and left the room.
Genevieve was lucky to have such a bodyguard. Hatter Madigan could swing a blade (or several at once) faster and more accurately than anyone alive. He was nimble, acrobatic. He could flip and tumble through the air without getting hit by a single cannonball spider in an onslaught of cannonball spiders. But even with all of his skills, he could not protect the queen forever. How could he have known that the precautionary measures he was about to take would prove useless, that it was already too late?
CHAPTER 8
T HE PARTY had moved to the South Dining Room for tea and most of the guests had returned home. The walrus made his way around the long table, at which sat Queen Genevieve and the suit families.
“Lump of sugar for your tea, madam? A drop of honey for your tea, sir?”
Genevieve smiled politely, not paying much attention to the goings-on. Because of the caterpillar’s warning, because King Nolan should have returned hours ago and yet she had received no word from him, she couldn’t concentrate. Ah, but here were Alyss and Dodge. What misadventures they’d been getting up to only the spirit of Issa knew.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the girl of the hour,” she said. “And where have you two been?” “Nowhere.”
Doing her best to look innocent, Alyss took her seat. She flashed Dodge a warning glance-say nothing-and he manned his guardsman’s post as composedly as he could, across the room from his father. Jack of Diamonds, with tarty tart crumbs on his cheeks, down the front of his waistcoat, and in his wig, glowered at them. He opened his mouth to announce Dodge’s punishment just as Bibwit entered, caked in mud and spotted with feathers.
“Bibwit!” gasped Queen Genevieve. “What happened to you?”
“Why, nothing ever so much, I’d say. My robe took on certain-how shall I put it?-birdish properties and I found myself floating in the air. Happily, I soon fell into some mud, from which it took a bit of ingenuity to free myself.”
Queen Genevieve blinked a moment. “Alyss!”
“I didn’t mean to,” Alyss said. “Things just started happening-”
Jack of Diamonds leaped up on his chair and pointed a stubby finger at Dodge. “He dared strike my royal person and he kidnapped Princess Alyss, and you can see by the dirt on their shoes that they left the palace! I demand that the commoner be deported to the Crystal Mines!”
The suit families all started talking at once, grumbling their displeasure, guffawing in disbelief. “Everyone, please calm down,” said Queen Genevieve. “Bibwit, is this true?”
“Not precisely,” answered Bibwit. “But I’m afraid the children did leave palace grounds momentarily.”
“Dodge Anders!” bellowed Sir Justice. “You get over here right this minute!” “Yes, sir.”
“The Crystal Mines!” Jack insisted, biting into a tarty tart and spewing a mouthful of crumbs into the
Lady of Spades’ hair.
The Lord of Diamonds stood up, as if making an announcement in court. “Good and kind Queen, I expect an increase in lands and tithes as a result of this unfortunate occurrence. My family’s name has been tarnished beyond recognition by my son’s treatment at the hands of this…this…boy!” He gestured at Dodge.
The Lady of Clubs whispered into her husband’s ear, “His family’s name’s suffered more harm from his own boy than any other.”
The Lord of Clubs snorted with laughter.
“Hear, hear!” demanded the Lord of Spades, rising from his chair. “If the Diamonds receive more land and money, so do we!”
Queen Genevieve was getting a headache. “There will be no increase in lands or tithes for anybody.” The families protested, their voices rising in heated debate. Alyss’ kitten trotted into the room.
“My cat!” Alyss cried. The room went quiet.
“Your-?” Queen Genevieve said, but that was all she got out before a deep rumbling shook the palace, goblets and chandeliers trembled, and the kitten began a gruesome transformation, its limbs stretching
and expanding until it stood on two muscled legs, its forelegs having become two lean and powerful arms and its front paws thick, with claws as sharp and long and wide as butcher’s knives. Its face remained catlike, with a flat pink nose, whiskers, and slobbery fangs. This was no adorable little kitten. This was The Cat-Redd’s top assassin, part human, part feline.
Before General Doppelganger or Sir Justice Anders had time to act, before even Hatter Madigan could tumble into blade-spinning action, there came shouts and an explosion from outside the dining room. The heavy double doors blew apart, a wall crumbled, and a horde of Redd’s card soldiers charged through the blasted opening with swords raised.
Standing amid the crumbled stone and splinters of wood was a nightmare version of Genevieve, a woman
Alyss had never seen before.
“Off with their heads!” the woman screamed. “Off with their stinking, boring heads!”
CHAPTER 9
T RAINING THE soldiers had taken time, effort. It disgusted Redd how many fools claimed to be practitioners of Black Imagination but didn’t realize the amount of work needed to become halfway decent at it. Or they lacked the ambition, the spurs of vengeance and fuming hatred, that helped Black Imagination flower within them. But these had never been the most disciplined members of the queendom. Not only had Redd been banished from Wonderland years ago, forced to live in a grubby fortress on Mount Isolation in the middle of the Chessboard Desert-acres of icy snow alternating with acres of tar and black rock, forming what looked from the air like a giant chessboard-not only this, but
she’d had to piece together a military force out of deserters, mercenaries, cutthroats. A good many of these had been Twos and Threes in the Wonderland Deck, card soldiers who were little more than bodies to be thrown in front of incoming cannonball spiders and generator orbs, doomed to die. Luckily, Redd also had Fours, Fives, and Sixes at her disposal, and a ragtag group of ex-Wonderlanders who’d never been part of the Deck at all but who hadn’t felt at home living in bright, happy Wonderland.