by Amy Sumida
The flowers eased back, properly chastised, and Warren and I continued up the path.
“Do not tarry, Your Majesty,” Warren snapped. “Tulgey Wood is full of many dangers, and we've only just entered it. We still need to pass by the Bandersnatch burrow before we reach our rendezvous point.”
“Who are we meeting?” I asked.
“The others,” he said. “You'll know them when you meet them.”
“Obviously,” I huffed and trudged after him. “Can't we get big now? Then we wouldn't have to worry about joining the War of the Roses. Also, I can't believe I just said that.”
“What have I said about belief, Alice?”
“To have some?” I was baffled.
“Absolutely,” he said approvingly. “We cannot grow right now. It's easier to get by the bandersnatch when you're small.”
“What's a bandersnatch?”
“A frumious creature with a long neck and snapping jaws,” Warren said gravely.
“What the hell does frumious mean?” I gave him my bewildered face.
“It is the concise word for the bandersnatch's fuming and furious character,” Warren instructed me. “Don't you have words that combine other words into one, much more simpler word?”
“Uh-huh sure.”
“The bandersnatch is very quick, but pays no mind to small creatures such as we are currently.”
“Why not?”
“Well, what sort of meal would we make?” Warren huffed. “We aren't worth the effort. If he paid us mind, he'd have nothing left to give the larger creatures.”
“Oh, I see.” I veered around a pebble the size of a boulder and scowled at my black dress. “Maybe I should have changed before we left. You might have warned me about the terrain.”
“You did change”–he glanced at me with a frown–“you're much smaller than you were.”
“I meant my clothes,” I snapped.
“Oh.” Warren stopped and looked me over. “Yes, I see. Nothing to be done for it now. Perhaps we can find you something more colorful at the tea party. Come on; we're late.”
“Yes, so you've said.” I rolled my eyes. “Colorful, indeed. Yes, that's the problem with my outfit; it's not colorful enough.”
Creepy cries echoed through the woods around us, and the underbrush we journeyed through shivered as if it were afraid. I was tense, searching this strange place as we walked through it, uncertain which direction trouble would come from, but sure that it would come. Through the swaying blades of grass, I could glimpse massive tree trunks looming above us. They seemed too large to exist and made horrendous creaking noises that hurt my ears. Beetles the size of a VW bug scampered up to us, startling me, but Warren just huffed at them, and they hurried away.
“How much farther?” I asked. “You realize that I'm wearing heels?”
“Heels?” Warren narrowed his beady rabbit eyes on my feet. “Now, why would you do that?”
“I just got home from my uncle's funeral!”
“Keep your voice down,” Warren hissed. “We've only just passed the bandersnatch.”
“You said that he wouldn't bother with us.”
“You don't seem like you'd be a bother,” a voice purred from above us. “No bother at all.”
“Cat!” Warren cried. “Well met.”
“Yes, well, indeed,” the voice intensified as a feline face parted the grass to peer at me. It was a dark gray tabby with green eyes that glowed. “You two are late.”
“I keep telling her that, but she doesn't seem to hear me.” Warren gave me an annoyed look.
“I can hear you just fine.” I rolled my eyes. “I just can't walk very well in these shoes.”
“Why did you put them on if you can't walk in them?” The cat asked.
“I didn't think I'd be walking through the woods today.”
“Hmm, not much of a planner, are you?” The cat sniffed me. “But you are a Wild, that much is certain.”
“Of course she's a Wild,” Warren snapped. “I fetched her myself. This is Alice.”
“Then I am at your service, Your Majesty,” the cat said.
“Who are you?” I asked it.
“Interesting question,” the cat murmured. “I knew who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have changed several times by then.”
“I don't need you to give me some esoteric bullshit on your inner you,” I huffed. “Just tell me who you are.”
“Do you want my name, rank, or affiliation?” The cat asked as its head turned in a complete circle.
I gaped at it until I realized that the cat was floating and his whole body had turned along with his head. Oh yes, a floating feline is so much easier to accept than a fully rotating head.
“This is insane,” I whispered. “Utter madness.”
“Don't worry about that,” the hovering cat said. “We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad, he's mad.”
“How do you that I'm mad?” I huffed. “We've only just met.
“You must be, or you wouldn't have come here.”
“Oh, fantastic,” I said dryly. “And to answer your earlier question; just a name will suffice.”
“That's no fun,” the cat pouted. “How can I show off my prowess to my new queen if she doesn't allow me to give her my rank and affiliation?”
“Then why did you even ask me?”
“I was being polite.”
“Would you just tell her who you are already so that we can get on with it?” Warren grumbled.
“I am Nicholas of the Order of Cheshire, Knight of Wilds,” the cat bowed. “And I shall see you safely to tea, Queen Alice.”
“I am seeing her safely to–oh, never mind.” Warren started hopping away. “We're late enough as it is. I can't find my damn gloves either,” he kept muttering as he went.
“My uncle told me to trust Nicholas,” I said. “Is that you?”
“Yes, I knew your mother's brother well. I knew all of your family. If you will climb onto my shoulders, Your Majesty?” Nicholas said as he lowered himself before me. “I shall carry you to the rendezvous point faster than you can walk.”
“Thank you, Sir Nicholas.” I climbed onto his shoulders and took huge handfuls of fur.
“Call me Nick,” he said and shot through the air.
“Do not start the meeting without me!” Warren shouted after us.”
I clung to the flying cat as Tulgey Wood whizzed by, but soon, he was slowing down to circle a clearing. In the center of this clearing there was a little house, and in front of the house, there was a long table set haphazardly with all manner of porcelain plates, teacups, saucers, and eating implements. An enormous cake sat in the middle of the table, with smaller cakes surrounding it, and several teapots ranged down each end. Three individuals sat around the table: a man, a brown rabbit, and a mouse.
“A mouse drinking tea,” I whispered, thinking of my uncle's stories. “The stories really are true.”
“I'm sure they are,” Nick said. “whatever you're speaking of. There's usually a grain of truth in every word uttered. It's just that sometimes you have to search harder to find it. Once you do, however, you can make some lovely bread.”
“You cannot make bread from grains of truth,” I said.
“Of course you can.” Nick smoothed his whiskers sagely. “Truth bread is the tastiest, but it can be hard to swallow.”
“Then you should eat cake!” The man at the table declared. “Where's the cake?”
“It's right in front of you, Hatter.” Nick rolled his eyes and himself, taking me along for the ride. “I prefer bread and butter.”
“Is that she?” The man asked as he stood so violently that his chair crashed back onto the Persian carpet that had been laid over the grass.
Hatter; well, he did have a large hat on, so his name seemed appropriate. It was a garish green hat, with a paisley band about it and a flat brim. A card tucked into the band read: In this style 10/6. Whatever the hell that meant.
�
��Yes, this is Queen Alice,” Nick said as he floated down to the table.
“You're awfully small for a wild queen,” Hatter noted. “I seem to remember the Wilds as being much more magnificent in stature. Much more muchier. Have you lost your muchness?”
“She took some of Theodore's potion so that she could come through the gate,” Warren panted as he hopped into the clearing. Then he shifted into his human form, regaining his lost clothing, and smoothed out the wrinkled fabric. “I will rectify her size immediately.”
Warren strode over to me as I slid off of Nick's neck. He took a petite four out of his pocket and placed it on the table beside me. I stared at it in consternation.
“I don't think–” I started to say, but was cut off by Hatter.
“Then you shouldn't speak!”
I rolled my eyes and began again, “Please tell me that you don't expect me to eat all of this.”
“Of course not,” Warren cried. “You're not a pig, are you?”
“Pig!” The brown rabbit exclaimed, spilling his tea as he jerked in fright. “I hate pigs! They have a disturbing tendency of turning into babies.”
“Shut up, March Hare!” The mouse squeaked as it jolted out of its teacup. It had fallen asleep over the rim. “There aren't any pigs or babies here.”
“Oh, yes, quite right, Dormouse.” Hare settled down.
“Just take a little nibble, dear,” Dormouse said to me. “The more you eat, the bigger you get, and we don't want you squishing us.”
I followed her instruction and took a bite. Tingling spread through my body, and I fell over the edge of the table as my form grew. My feet touched the ground before my butt could hit, and I stood to my normal height.
“That's better.” I sighed. “I've imagined being little before, but that was so much worse than I'd thought it would be.”
“Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were, or might have been, was not otherwise than what you had been, would have appeared to them to be otherwise,” Hatter said sagely.
I gaped at him.
“Ah, yes, I see the resemblance now.” Hatter peered at me with dark eyes as he settled his jacket more firmly about him. “You look like your mother.”
“She does, actually,” Nick said with some surprise. “Striking resemblance.”
“Why is that shocking?” I asked the floating cat, who was paddling through the air currents on his back.
“It's not.” Nick smirked. “What's surprising is that the Mad Hatter noticed it.”
Then Nick's form shimmered like a heatwave on a highway, and the blur of his body grew. When he came into focus again, he was a sleekly muscled young man with short, dark hair stripped horizontally with gray. He wore a soldier's uniform; leather boots, cotton pants, a sword belted at his waist, and a tunic emblazoned with a small gold jester's cap on its breast.
“Your Majesty.” Nick gave me a more formal bow.
“A wild card,” I said as I noted the emblem, which was positioned inside the outline of a playing card, like a coat of arms.
“Your family's heraldic device.” Nick waved a hand to the emblem.
“A Jester?” I chuckled. “How fitting. This feels like a joke.”
“Do you mean that it feels like a laugh?” Hatter asked. “Because a joke has no feeling.”
“Yes, I suppose I did.” I shrugged.
“Then you should say what you mean,” the Hare chided me.
“I do.” I scowled at the rabbit. “At least, I mean what I say–that's the same thing.”
Dear God, now they had me talking like them.
“Not the same thing a bit!” Said the Hatter. “You might as well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I see!'”
“You might just as well say that 'I like what I get' is the same thing as 'I get what I like,'” added the March Hare.
“You might as well say,” Dormouse added as she drifted back to sleep, “that 'I breathe when I sleep' is the same thing as 'I sleep when I breathe!'”
“Yes,” I agreed. “The jester is fitting because I'm surrounded by fools.”
“The fool can do anything,” Hatter said sagely, “because he doesn't know that he can't.”
“Okay, zen master,” I muttered.
“I am absolutely a master of then,” Hatter declared. “Or is it now?” His face fell.
“Then; it's definitely then,” Hare helped.
“No, you simpleton, it's now,” the mouse argued.
“Do you know what they're talking about?” I asked Nick as I eased away from the table.
“It's the curse,” Nick said soberly. “Hatter once tried to sing for the Queen of Hearts, and she accused him of murdering time.”
“She sentenced him to death,” Warren said as he joined us.
“Off with his head!” Hatter shouted.
“But Hatter escaped,” Nick added. “He's almost cat-like in his ability to slip away.”
“He escaped?” I lifted a brow, pointedly looking at the man who was currently trying to fit an entire slice of cake into his mouth.
“He may be insane, but it's a mad genius,” Nick said. “It's why we chose to include him in our alliance.”
“All right,” I gave in. “But what is the 'then and now' all about?”
“Time got angry that Hatter was not punished for his murder,” Warren explained.
“Excuse me?” I blinked at the serious men.
“Well, to be fair, Hatter was convicted,” Nick said.
“Of murdering time,” I added.
“Yes, Father Time,” Warren said.
“Time is a person?” I asked.
“He is a being,” Nick clarified. “But that's neither here nor there.”
“How can it not be here or there?” Hatter asked. “If it can be anywhere, it must be in one of those two places.”
“Just so,” Nick agreed and then returned to his explanation. “Time was angry that Hatter escaped, and when he confronted Hatter about it, Hatter, being Hatter, made a few jokes and recited some poetry.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
“How Doth the Little Crocodile,” Warren said.
“How doth he what?” I asked.
“No, that was the name of the poem Hatter recited.”
“I prefer Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat,” Hare said.
“Or The Mouse's Tale,” Dormouse added.
“Yes, both are lovely.” Warren grimaced. “But Father Time does not like poetry.”
“Time halted himself in respect to the Hatter and his favorite companions, cursing them to forever live in the hour of 6 PM.”
“Tea time,” Warren said grimly.
“Forever stuck having tea,” I said. “I would grow tired of cake.”
“Cake? I love cake!” Hatter said, splattering cake crumbs everywhere. “You can never have too much cake or tea. Though I do enjoy little sandwiches now and then.”
“What is it; now or then?” Hare asked.
“Dear me! I don't know!” Hatter declared. “I think it's forever now, but it could be forever then. How long is forever?”
“Sometimes, just a second,” Hare said.
“A second! Yes, I'll second that second,” Hatter cried as his eyes started to get larger–crazier.
“George,” a deep voice came from behind me, “easy now, old friend. You are both now and then. All the seconds are yours.”
I turned to see a hooded man walk into the clearing. He had a warrior's build, and a sword buckled to his hips that cemented my initial impression. His hands were thick and calloused, but a gold signet ring adorned one of them. He walked quietly, and so did the men who accompanied him. I barely noticed that they were there until they surrounded us.
“Relax,” Nick said as I tensed. “It's the King of Spades; he's on our side.”
The King of Spades laid a hand on Hatter's shoulder. Hatter–George–went still and stared up into the shadows of the hood. His
eyes softened, and he calmed.
“Thank you, Jaxon,” Hatter whispered.
“Of course,” Jaxon, the King of Spades, turned to face me as he pushed back his hood.
I swallowed convulsively and prayed that I wouldn't make a fool of myself, despite it being my family crest. King Jaxon was the most gorgeous man I'd ever laid eyes on. And that includes in movies. No celebrity could hold a candle to this Card King. He had features that looked as if a love goddess had personally sculpted them to be the most perfect example of mankind. His lips were lush but not too soft, his nose was regal but not too slim, and his brow was noble but not too high. And in the middle of all of that was a pair of eyes bluer than the Pacific on a hot day.
I felt a little dizzy. Was I going to faint? Oh, please don't let me faint. That would just be the cherry on top of my sundae of insanity.
“Queen Alice?” His voice was like honey over hot stones; sweet and steamy.
“Yes,” I squeaked, and then cleared my throat. “Yeah, that's me, I guess.”
“You guess?” His brows lifted. “You should never guess about something so important.”
“I just found out about all this today, Spade,” I growled. “Give me a fucking break.”
I nearly smacked my hand over my mouth. I had a tendency of being a bitch to attractive men. Maybe it was bitter grapes over knowing that I could never have them. Whatever it was, it was subconscious, and I had no control over it.
“Did you just call me 'Spade?'” His lips twitched.
“Yep. You want me to call you Jax instead?” I asked. “I don't know the etiquette between monarchs, and frankly, J-Spade, I don't give a damn. I've been shrunk, fell through a hole, assaulted by flowers, and forced to tromp through the woods in high heels today–my patience is wearing thin.”
King Jaxon burst out laughing, and the soldiers standing around us, dressed all in black and very menacing in appearance, stared at their king in shock. I stared at him in open longing. Laughter made him ten times hotter. Ugh, I was going to get really mean, I just knew it.
“Charming,” King Jaxon whispered. “Just like your mother.”
My face fell. I had very few memories of my mother, and they were all hazy. First Hatter had said that I resembled her, and now this guy made another reference. On top of his untouchable hotness, it was too much. I'd just buried my last family member that very day, and I had reached my breaking point.
