Playing Hearts

by W. R. Gingell

  My eyes went to his face hopefully. “Then they can’t be far! She didn’t have time to take them anywhere else.”

  “She barely had time to get there and come back,” said Jack. “And she certainly didn’t put them in the dungeon.”

  “You think it has something to do with the hat as well,” I said.

  “It would be typical of her,” shrugged Jack. “She likes being clever and tortuous about things. It would amuse her no end to know not only that she’d driven a wedge between us, but that you’d had Hatter and Hare’s salvation in your hands the whole time and didn’t know it.”

  I looked at him in silence for a moment, and then said unexpectedly: “She really did a number on you when you were a kid, didn’t she?”

  Jack’s brows rose, but all he said was: “Let’s leave my twisted little childhood out of it, shall we, Mab? It’s not a very pretty story, and it reflects little credit on myself or Mother Dearest. I’ll tell you all about it one day when you aren’t so prickly. All I’m suggesting is that if she left that hat behind, it was with more than one purpose; so be careful about believing anything you see through it. It would probably strike her as immensely humorous to lead you on a wild goose chase.”

  Curiously, I asked: “Is this breaking the rules? Helping me this much, I mean?”

  “It’s a grey area,” said Jack, after a pause. “I’m not supposed to help anyone directly. Except I’m blood bound to you, so that means I’m allowed to help you. Mother doesn’t much like it but she can’t really do anything about it because it’s not technically breaking the rules. It’s just that she expects my first loyalty to be to her.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I was pretty sure your first loyalty was to yourself.”

  “Well, Miss Snip, perhaps it is,” said Jack. Despite the words, he was grinning. “But she expects at least second loyalty.”

  “So you can help without breaking the rules if you help someone else in a way that helps me,” I said thoughtfully.

  “Exactly so.”

  “When you feel like helping me.”

  “Let’s not get into that right now, either. You're not really very grateful, Mab.”

  “Well, I’m not used to you helping me,” I said, after thinking about it. “And really, that’s your fault.”

  “Of course it is!” said Jack, and now he was laughing. “And there’s no possibility that you–”

  “Oooh!” I said. “No, Jack, shut up!”

  “You’ve never been particularly polite, but I must say that I do expect at the very least not to be told to shut up,” said Jack.

  “Sorry,” I said: “Well, actually, no, I’m not sorry. You made me think of something.”

  “Mab,” said Jack, very carefully setting Hatter’s top hat on my knees and moving closer in the same motion; “I’m going to put my arm around you now, so please don’t punch me.”

  “Why would I punch you?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know, but I had the distinct impression that you might.”

  “Wait, why are you putting your arm around me?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” sighed Jack, sliding his arm around my shoulders just the same. “Perhaps I’m expressing my appreciation for both your sharp tongue and wit.”

  “Oh. I thought you were just trying to be annoying.”

  “Darling Mab,” said Jack coldly. “You’re so good for my self-esteem!”

  He didn’t remove his arm, however, and I cautiously let myself relax. Jack always had been odd and hard to fathom in his reactions: I had never been sure whether he hated me, tolerated me, or really quite liked me.

  “I suppose it’s all right,” I said.

  Jack laughed at that: really laughed. Then he said: “What is this idea of yours?”

  “It’s what Hatter said his hat was: possibilities and probabilities. I think maybe she– well, it sounds stupid, but I think maybe she used his hat to trap them in a possible future. Or maybe a past that was probable but didn't happen. I’ve seen her change things in the mirrors, and if she had Hatter’s hat—and knew what it could do—I think she might have been able to do it.”

  “That sounds just like Mother Dearest,” said Jack, nodding. “Can you find out?”

  “Don’t know,” I said. “I don’t even know if it’s possible– or if she did it.”

  “Well, if she brought them back here, they’d still be somewhere about the castle and I would have noticed.”

  “Unless she expected me to come to you. She might have hidden them from you.”

  “I don’t think she expected you to come to me, quite honestly,” said Jack. “As a matter of fact, I wasn’t expecting you to come to me again. Why did you?”

  “I was angry,” I said. That wasn’t quite it, though: there was more to it. Slowly, I said: “I think I wanted you to tell me it wasn’t true.”

  “Do you know, I think that’s the closest you’ve ever come to giving me a compliment,” said Jack. I opened my mouth to reply, but he said hastily: “Mab, if the next thing out of your mouth is an insult I’ll– I’ll–”

  “You’ll what? Tell your mu–”

  “No!” said Jack. “I’ll make perishing sure you can’t use your lips to say anything else by kissing you!”

  I gazed up at him with my mouth open for a dumbstruck moment. What was he playing at now? At last I said: “You usually make a lot more sense.”

  “I really can’t tell if you’re deliberately provoking me or if you just want the chance to hit me,” said Jack. “Never mind– look, supposing you’re right about the hat. What can you do about it?”

  “Don’t know,” I said again. I didn’t even know if I could do something about it. But if I was the Queen, with her powers and her resources, I would have put Hatter and Hare into a possible future or past. The odds against anyone except Hatter being able to fix something like that were very high.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” said Jack. “You seem to see things differently. No, it’s more than that: you seem to make other people see things differently. I’m still not sure if that’s a gift or a curse.”

  I sucked in a breath between my teeth, feeling a puzzle piece click into place. I wasn’t sure whether or not Jack meant to give me the answer—so hard to tell what was truth and what was illusion with Jack!—but he certainly had given me the answer. I’m not exactly sure why I did it (that was probably his fault, too) but I said: “You’re very clever today, Jack,” and kissed his cheek.

  Then I slid down onto the floor with the hat, which made Jack protest: “What are you doing, Mab? Come back up here at once!”

  “Can’t,” I said. “I’m Seeing things differently.”

  The Queen used mirrors, so as a precaution I used the ripply bit at the top of the hat; the piece I had always thought of as a tiny, sideways pond. I wanted to make sure I had as little as possible of her influencing me, and I was better with ripples than with flat reflections, after all. It was just a matter of deciding whether she would have gone for past or future, and even that wasn’t so hard. The Queen had a predilection for future and not much affinity for the past, if Jack was to be believed; but despite that, the easiest thing in the world for her would have been to make Hatter and Hare themselves look at things differently. For example, if she had encouraged Hare to think about a time before his front paw was cut off, it would have been possible—if not exactly easy—to trap them in a reflection of that. Hatter without his hat wouldn’t have had a hope of defending himself. It was just a theory, of course, but I thought it was a good one. I looked into the ripples, changing my focus to what was already past, and what could have gone differently; and before long I saw them. Hatter and Hare at the tea table; Hatter with the most enormous cup of tea I had ever seen, and Hatter with both his paws. I saw myself pop out of a teapot in some surprise, but of course I had been there that day! This time when the Queen’s carriage began to approach, however, Hatter and Hare bolted for a hidden passage beneath the
tea-table, the teapot with me in it clutched in Hatter’s arms. It was more of a hole than a passage, but when they dropped through it they seemed to float rather than fall; and when at last their feet touched the bottom of the shaft, the whole scene went back to the beginning. It was looped, playing again and again, a minute-long clip in Underland colours.

  “Hey!” I said. “Wake up, you two! It’s not real!”

  Jack said something in my ear but I was focused on the hat and it didn’t make sense, so I ignored it. Hatter and Hare were still proceeding in the same loop, but they looked puzzled.

  “Hey!” I said again. They leaped into the hole beneath the tea-table despite my voice, and appeared at the beginning again. This time they looked suspicious and a little bit worried. At last Hatter patted his head, and finding nothing on it but hair, rather frantically began to look around. I said “Hey!” a third time, and I thought that Hare’s ears pricked up slightly.

  “You’re not listening to me!” I said to his twitching ears. “The Queen made you think of a way that you could keep your paw. Now you’re trapped in a loop of past Could-Have-Been.”

  “HATTER,” said Hare; “I DON’T FEEL QUITE ALL THERE.”

  Hatter fixed an intent look on him and said: “No more do I. I’m shorter than usual, I’m sure of it.”

  “WHERE’S YOUR HAT?”

  “Well, where’s your paw?” instantly replied Hatter, and I saw with a frisson of excitement that Hare’s paw was very slowly vanishing. It was working!

  Hare said sadly: “I knew it was too good to be true. She’s been playing tricks again, Hatter.”

  “Trick’s on her,” said Hatter. “That was never your best paw. I suppose we’d better jump again.”

  “Don’t jump!” I said indignantly. “You’ll only go back to the beginning again!”

  “PISH,” said Hare, almost as if he’d heard me. “AFTER YOU, HATTER.”

  And they jumped.

  “YOW!” said Hare, suddenly present, his breath warm on my face. “HATTER, WE’RE BACK. BACK TO FRONT. AM I ME OR AM I YOU?”

  “Who do you feel like?” said Hatter, just as delightfully present. “Wait, you can’t feel with that paw, you haven’t got it. Try feeling with the other one.”

  I smiled gladly at them, and as I did so something chattered sharply behind me. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, but before I could move sharp, clawed hands seized me from behind, digging into my flesh. There were card sharks everywhere—where had they come from?—another four pouncing on Hatter and Hare. Jack was standing by the sofa as if he had just leapt to his feet, and the Queen stood framed by the doorway, her skirts blood red and almost too wide to fit through.

  I looked furiously at Jack but he said swiftly: “I didn’t, Mab!”

  “Jack, I’m disappointed in you, I really am!” said the Queen. “Fraternizing with your fiancée is one thing: consorting with this sort of scaff and raff is quite another!”

  “SCAFF AND RAFF, MADAM?” bawled Hare at the top of his lungs. “WE ARE THE ARISTOCRATS, MADAM, THE BLUE BLO–” He stopped, his eyes bulging and his long nose twitching, and continued with a far greater amount of decorum: “Our apologies, ma’am. We are quite out of blue blood, but if you would care for a little of the red, we should be happy to oblige.”

  The Queen flicked him a look of disgust and turned her eyes on me, heavy-lidded with satisfaction. “As for you, little puddle-jumper,” she said: “I’m glad to see that you’re as predictable as ever. It’s really much easier to plan on your arrival if I take the precaution of capturing your friends.”

  “Like dissecting frogs,” I said. “Tweaking nerves and making the leg kick.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Why not just send a card?”

  “Would you have come?”

  “Not for you.”

  “I would really caution about being so rude when you have ten fingers to spare,” said the Queen gently. “The rabble wouldn’t care to see your little face ruined, but I doubt they’d notice a finger or two.”

  I met Jack’s eyes and found nothing comforting there. He was white and narrow-lipped. I curled my fingers into my palms, feeling the nails press in, and said: “Why am I here?”

  “The time has come,” she said. “You’re a distraction when present and a figurehead when absent, so it seems wise to begin moulding you as befits the prince’s fiancée. You will remain at the Heart Castle until Jack’s twenty-fifth birthday–”

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  The Queen’s mouth remained open for just an instant, a plump red ‘o’. I don’t think she’d expected me to make a peep after the threat to remove a few of my fingers. Then her lips pressed together in a squashed little moue. “Number Four, hold out the girl’s hand.”

  I fought, of course, but I wasn’t anything like strong enough to stop my hand being forced out in front of me. The Queen rustled closer, her knife chiming lightly against the silver back of the mirror that always hung within the folds of her skirts. I was almost certain she did it on purpose, and said a mental farewell to one or two of my fingers, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much.

  Jack, smoothing his tie, said: “Mother. You know I don’t care for mutilation.”

  His stride was unhurried but he kept pace with her just the same. He was being very carefully slow. The Queen didn’t seem to hear him, but when she lifted the blade it was only to tap it lightly against my knuckles.

  “You’re a very fortunate girl,” she said. “Jack has his mother’s sensibilities: he hates the ugly and ill-formed. I don’t feel that it’s appropriate to leave you unpunished, however. Which of your friends shall die for your insolence?”

  “What do you want?” I said quietly. Neither Hatter nor Hare would die because of me if I could help it. “You want me to go down on my knees? I will.”

  “I want to punish you. Your bended knee helps me not at all.” She pointed at Hare with the tip of her blade, and smiled. “This one, I think.”

  I gave a strangled cry, straining against the grip of the card sharks: then Jack, turning elegantly on his pointy-toed shoes, was between Hare and the Queen. Not beside, or nearby, but solidly in between them.

  “Dear me!” said the Queen. She sounded amused. “Are you going to stop me, my dear? Do remember yourself, and do remember the rules before you do anything...hasty.”

  Jack met her eyes, and I thought for a bright, kindling moment that he was going to take the dagger from her. The card sharks that weren’t gripping my arms were engaged in trying to hold Hatter and Hare down: they fought with the strength of madness, and the card sharks had no attention to spare for any peril in which the Queen might stand. She herself looked down at Jack in an indulgent, amused sort of way, unaware or perhaps unbelieving of her danger. The smile that had blossomed on my face died in the bud as Jack held her gaze for a fraction of a moment longer and then, looking away, stepped aside and left Hare to her mercies.

  I saw the Queen’s knife glitter but I thought it was the flash of light on her dangling mirror, and I didn’t realise what was happening until she plunged it twice into Hare’s neck. I barely had time to scream before it was over, scarlet arcs of blood flying in bright relief against the black-and-white room. I felt a wet warmth on my face that wasn’t salt tears, and my fingers lost all feeling as I strained against the card sharks’ grip on my arms, my breath panting loud in my ears. It could have been a gothic tableau: the Queen of Hearts, her blade naked and dripping with Hare’s blood, standing over his prone body. The card sharks, teeth chattering in enjoyment. Hatter howling, as mad as I’d ever seen him. And Jack, frozen white with blood on his face and a stunned look to his eyes.

  I saw the reflection of it all in the Queen’s knife, awash with blood; and I said, savagely: “No.”

  Her gaze fell so, so, slowly, a cold understanding in her eyes, but I was already Seeing Underland differently in the bloody blade; and in that bloody blade I froze the present Is and dragged it back to the past Was
. I focused on Hatter and Hare—and almost accidentally on myself and Jack—freezing the card sharks and the Queen in the other Is that was now May Be. On the carpet Hare inhaled a free breath and leapt to his paws with a giant kick of his back legs, sending his crutch flying. There was somehow still blood all over his fur, but the wound was gone. Hatter, who was chattering away to himself with a wild look in his purple eyes, looked around at the others and snatched his hat back from the frozen Number Seven.

  “This is a pretty Was,” he said, quite calmly. “Oughtn’t you to put it back where you got it from? I’d hate to break it.”

  “Mab,” said Jack, very quietly: “What have you done?”

  “I’m not putting it back,” I told Hatter, ignoring Jack with as much iciness as if he was frozen along with his mother. “This isn’t Was, it’s Is.”

  He looked around at the new present, poking at it with those purple eyes; and he must have been satisfied, because he said: “A perfect fit! A delightful job of hattery.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. I had thought it was my imagination, but the Queen and the card sharks were still moving. They were moving almost too slowly to be seen, but I was pretty sure that they were getting quicker. They were slowly being drawn back to the new Is from what was now Might-Have-Been. “We’d better go while they’re still too slow to catch us. I can take us all through the bathtub if you like.”

  “One is too cultured to travel by bathtub,” said Hare, with a fierce glare. I took this to be a thank you for saving his life and hugged him, which seemed to confuse—though it also seemed to please—him. He made vague patting motions in the air above my head, and said, looking perplexed: “One travels via mirror, madam. Your ears are still too big.”

  “You can use Jack’s dressing mirrors,” I said, giving the Hare one last squeeze before I let him go.

  “Not coming to tea?” asked the Hatter; and though his face was sad, it was also understanding. “We’ve got room.”

  “Not this time,” I said quietly. It had occurred to me that the further I was from Underland, the safer Hatter and Hare would be. Whatever the Queen was planning for me, and for Underland, she couldn’t do it if I wasn’t there. The rebellion would simply have to do or die on its own. “Maybe in another Then.”