by Liz Braswell
Alice sat on the wagon, dangling her legs over the side, one hand on the slowly recovering Rabbit, the other on the Cheshire Cat’s back. Her scepter was being used to stir some lemon into a cup of tea the size of a church. Her crown was cocked on her head.
She felt very, very strange.
She wanted to cry, but it was obvious that no one else was sad—or wanted anyone sad around them at the party.
“Maybe this time I’ll come back as a cobbler,” the Hatter was telling a pretty young chicken eagerly. “That would be a fun change.”
“Not me. I shall be a Dodo, I think,” the Dodo mused. “Maybe with a different wig.”
“Cheshire,” Alice said, suddenly remembering, “You told me that Mary Ann was the real hero. You said, ‘If you want my advice…you’ll find her.’”
“And you did,” the Cheshire said, bathing his tail. “You found her…or a hero…or something that led to all of this. Inside of you. Oh, but you have needed so much of my help! I even sent Katz to help you find your way back, through the pond and the old tree….”
Alice sighed, for once not distracted by thoughts of the boy (though it was nice to remember his name). “I wish I could have known Mary Ann. I feel like I’ve been right behind her, just missing her the whole time, unable to catch her—like the White Rabbit. I was foolish to be jealous of her for so long…. It’s just that she always seemed to know what she was doing, and everyone loved her for that. She knew who she was and what to do and how to bring about change in her world. It made me feel so useless and unsure of myself. I should have just learned from her. And I suppose I did, in a way.
“I would dearly love to meet her. I suppose…with the world beginning again…she will come back. Will I ever be able to return here again, Cheshire?”
“A man cannot walk into the same river twice, for later he is not the same man and it is not the same river,” the Cheshire answered.
“I am not a man and this is not a river,” she said, rolling her eyes. She gestured at her friends, who were now singing, even the Dormouse. “Will they even remember me?”
“Katz will remember you,” the Cheshire said with a grin, his body fading in and out of existence. He walked up and down clawingly in her lap like a real cat, albeit one that went invisible. He sighed in contentment as he settled himself down and curled up. “I can’t remember a single thing now.”
And they all lived very very happily until the clock struck thirteen.
Alice woke up slowly.
She was at home in her own bed, and it was morning, late but not too late; there were shafts of pale golden sun on the wall in front of her. She watched it for a while, feeling sad—no, melancholy. She did not turn over and try to go back to sleep, however. She just lay awake in silence. Dinah regarded her out of one blearily open eye.
When she finally went downstairs for breakfast no one was there, which was a relief. She sat down and had the first, hot sip of tea all to herself. She closed her eyes and just felt the quiet inside her, the quiet. It wasn’t an empty feeling. It was a pause, a breath before a birth. It was waiting.
The paper was next to the butter, folded so that the top of the front page showed: RAMSBOTTOM RALLY TUESDAY NIGHT. Alice shivered. There was something so stark and ominous about the words. They foreshadowed truly dreadful things to come. In this world villains weren’t even whimsical—the streets would never run red here with milk paint, but with real blood. Alice was back in the land of no Nonsense ever. Possibly forever.
How could she fix this? She had saved a whole world—somehow; the details were fading a bit now. But she knew she had managed to do it because she had the advantage of coming from the real world, with a real-world, strategic mind. Here she was just an ordinary citizen of England, no special advantages or perspective whatsoever.
Mathilda came in, and when she saw Alice sitting there, started to open her mouth—and then closed it. She sat down and made her own tea instead, but without the extra clinks and noises that very obviously stated I AM MAKING MY TEA AND NOT TALKING TO YOU—which tactic both sisters occasionally employed.
Mathilda shuffled through some letters and then said, very casually, “I don’t think Corwin and I will be attending the rally tonight.”
Alice blinked, surprised but remaining silent, waiting, gazing at her sister over the rim of her cup.
“It’s all a bit…” Mathilda squinched her face, looking for just the right dismissive word. “Ugly. Corwin and I feel very strongly England should take care of its own first, mind you. But those in the Square are England’s own now. And we should treat them with nothing less than charity.”
“Hmm,” Alice said, not wanting to say anything to jinx the moment. She nodded, as if this was the logical and proper, the only, conclusion to come to.
“And Corwin is especially sorry for ever suggesting we introduce you to Coney,” Mathilda added. “He will come around later with his own apology and probably a very large, very ugly gift. Please just nod and take it and do what you will with it later.”
Alice smiled. “But why this change of heart for him, all of a sudden?”
“Corwin…looks for the best in everyone, perhaps to the point of certain blindness. But even he has no trouble at recognizing criminal behavior.”
She held up a copy of the morning Kexford Weekly.
There on the front page was the photo of Mrs. Yao. There was even a blowup and a callout of the note she held—the handwriting very clear—and a plea for any good citizen who recognized the handwriting to report the miscreant to the police immediately.
The photo was credited to A.
Everyone in Kexford would soon figure out who both the perpetrator and the photographer were.
“Actually, I find myself running out of some of that oolong that Mrs. Yao carries,” Mathilda added contemplatively. “I may drop by her shop later. She could use the business to help pay for this bit of nonsense.”
At no point did Mathilda actually apologize.
Aloud.
But it was enough.
Alice opened her mouth to say something nice and meaningful and sisterly, but what came out was…
“Bit of nonsense! Nonsense…But of course! That’s it! I do have an advantage and perspective different from everyone here! Take that, Mary Ann! Mathilda, you’re a genius!” She leapt up, kissed her sister on the cheek, and ran out of the room.
“Well,” her sister muttered after she had left, “at least someone in this ridiculous family finally recognizes that.”
A onetime visit to the esteemed law offices of Alexandros and Ivy was unusual. Twice would have been suspect. So instead Alice went to the Square and grabbed the first child she found—Zara, the one who had found her after her camera was stolen.
“Hello! I need a favor—I need a message sent to a friend. Would you do it for me? I’ll pay you for your time,” she said, opening her purse.
“It’s Katz, isn’t it?” the girl said flatly. With neither intrigue nor condemnation.
Alice looked into the eyes of this little girl who was not her, whom she had never been. But there was a spark in her eye, an Alice-spark. Humor and willfulness and curiosity. It just came out differently. The little girl tried not to grin wickedly and mostly succeeded.
“Yes,” Alice admitted.
“Is it a love note?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. Look, do you want to earn a ha’penny or not?”
“Always,” the little girl said promptly. “But can I still earn it if I know where he is, and it’s not at his work, and it’s a public place where you can meet and talk, but it’s very loud, so the two of you won’t be heard? Perfect for a secret meeting?”
Alice pretended to think for a moment. “Oh, all right. You drive a hard bargain.”
“He’s at the Samovar right now, reading the news and probably being grumpy.”
This was a café run by an Englishman, but with sort of a Russian theme because he loved Russian novels. All the students who cou
ld afford it went there to discuss literature, play chess, and toss around revolutionary ideas that they would then forget later, in their cups.
“Thank you kindly! A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Sarah. Here’s your reward.”
The little girl looked at the big copper coin she was handed in wonder.
“I don’t have change for a full penny,” she said regretfully.
“Oh no, it’s all yours. A ha’penny for the information. Another for your silence.”
Zara grinned and curtsied and then ran off, overcome with eagerness to share her fortune with her friends—or at least the news of it.
Katz was at the Samovar, but he wasn’t reading the news; he was considering a chess problem laid out on the table before him. The pieces were exquisitely carved red and white bone but the board was chalked in on the table by what seemed like a fairly tipsy hand. Katz was frowning at it so intently he didn’t see her walk up.
Alice reached out and tipped over the red queen.
“Alice!” Katz cried. His face broke out into a smile that encompassed all of him and made it seem like all days would be sunny forever. Alice wanted to live in that smile. “What a surprise! Twice in one week, and both times unexpected.”
She sat down across from him. A quick look around revealed students in robes, students in plain clothes, a few old professors, and even a couple of Aunt Vivian’s librarian friends (who looked a little disgusted with the ruckus around them).
“Can I get you some tea?” he offered. “It’s terrible.”
“Lovely offer, but no thank you.”
They were both silent for a moment, but it wasn’t as awkward as it was supposed to be.
“Are you really the Cheshire Cat?” she finally asked, softly.
Katz smiled broadly and shrugged maddeningly. “I don’t think I am him. I know him. He knows me. We are one of a kind in our separate worlds.”
“That’s a Cheshire answer if I ever heard one,” Alice said with a sigh. “Will he remember me if I ever go back? Will any of them?”
“No one could ever forget Alice,” Katz said, taking her hands in his.
“Will I—will I see them again?”
“I think it’s a fairly good possibility. But who can say? Did you come just to talk to me about that other place, and that other me?” he asked, a little accusingly.
Alice smiled. “No, of course not.
“I came to talk to you about what we could do about Ramsbottom’s ridiculous rally.”
His hands froze on her own, skeleton-stiff. His jaw didn’t quite drop, but did fall a little, along with the rest of his face.
He recovered himself quickly and pulled back from her, releasing her hands and sort of shaking out his shoulders, moving his jaw this way and that to dispel any lingering emotion.
“Oh, of course, of course. Most excellent. I’m interested in hearing any of your ideas. It’s going to be a terrible thing, no matter what happens, really…you know…bad for the community…and bad…just…in general….”
Alice couldn’t keep a straight face. She burst out into peals of naughty, hysterical giggles, covering her mouth with one gloved hand as prettily as any coquette—but really afraid of spraying her companion.
“Of course I want to talk to you about other things, too, you silly goose! You’re as serious and sensitive as—as, well, I was when I first went to Wonderland.”
He looked confused, his handsome face a funny blank until it relaxed into a rueful smile.
“You…I…certainly…” The barrister was at a loss for words. Then he grinned and indicated her hands. “May I?”
“Of course,” Alice said, presenting them. He took them properly this time, clasped them together and kissed them.
“This is going to be difficult,” he said, soft and serious. “Your family, my family…”
“All amazing and new things are difficult,” Alice said, squeezing his hands back. “But most turn out to be worth it. And everything else is Nonsense.
“Which, ironically, is actually the other thing I came to talk to you about….”
The day of the rally was grey and a little chilly, a little damp, which might have already tempered spirits some. Mathilda had announced primly that she and Corwin were “going to take a ride in the country with Mother and Father”; they were going to avoid the whole situation entirely. And while it seemed a little cowardly, Alice couldn’t entirely blame them.
“I’m afraid we shall miss all the fun,” Alice’s mother said wistfully.
“Yes, I think I would prefer anything to sitting in a bumpy carriage on a cold and wet day with that giant sheep of a man looking at what—fields? Forests? From a distance? I don’t think there’s even going to be a picnic,” Alice’s father added mournfully. “And whatever am I going to do with this now?”
He pulled out a ridiculous multicolored scarf fringed in gold coins and draped it around his head. “I had such plans!”
Alice was overcome and hugged both her parents at once.
“Corwin is here,” Mathilda said, coming into the room and pulling on her hideously ugly brown gloves, the ones with the big bows. Her big man came through the door after only a single knock—rude!—carrying a large box.
“Hello, everyone!” he called genially.
Really, Alice thought, wincing, he would be ever so much more tolerable if he just lowered his voice!
“This is for you, Alice!” he bawled, shoving the box toward her. Then his face went a little red and his voice did lower, uncharacteristically. He even looked at his feet. “I…ah…we…You know, he seemed so…but then, of course…Butting in where we’re not wanted, obviously! Turned out…even if they don’t prosecute,” he finished.
Alice nodded, trying to look serious.
“Thank you. I very much appreciate the apology. More than any gift,” she said, and opened the box.
Then: “Oh!”
“My goodness,” her father said, looking over her shoulder.
It was a camera. A top-of-the-line, latest-model version of the one that had been stolen.
“Thank you,” Alice said again, really this time.
Even Mathilda looked surprised. “Hm,” she said, apparently having still expected something ugly and unuseful. Alice wondered at that: it seemed as though her sister hadn’t told him what to get. Whatever faults and prejudices and incorrect views Corwin had, at least he paid attention. He knew what was important to Alice, which meant he knew what was important to Mathilda. Alice might not agree with him on anything, but it was obvious he loved her sister and his heart was in the right place. Even if his mind and his mouth weren’t.
Still, holiday conversations would be a struggle from here on out.
Especially when…eventually…Alice introduced them all to Katz. Then things would get really interesting.
At the market Ramsbottom grinned and kept his spirits up like a carnival ringmaster; he even wore a spotless grey tailcoat and top hat with a bright red rose in it, like some sort of showman. His brother was more discreetly dressed, in browns, quietly helping set up the stage and directing crowd management. Coney bipped and bopped around him like the White Rabbit Alice knew him to be.
(Also soon to be as irrelevant as a prone lagomorph.)
Almost everyone from every part of Kexford was assembling for the thing, eyeing the now-empty tables soon to be set with punch and treats—but only after everyone paid attention nicely to the things that were to be said. And cheered appropriately.
Alice watched this all from behind a tree.
She wore a little-girl Alice outfit; short dress and ridiculous oversized blue sash, gigantic blue bow in her hair (there were wide, French-style knickers under the dress, so it was all proper). The bright-colored scarf her father had was tied around her wrist. He was there in spirit.
“All ready, darling?” Katz asked, slipping in next to her behind the tree.
She reached out and squeezed his hand excitedly. “This is going to be brill
iant!”
“I can’t imagine this is going to do wonders for my career,” Katz said with a sigh, indicating the bright purple-and-white striped union suit he wore under his more proper jacket and boots. An extra bit of the material hung off his back like a tail.
“That’s what these are for,” Alice pointed out, slipping on her Venetian mask and indicating that he do the same. “Oh look, they’re starting. Remember—wait for the signal!”
The crowd had filled out as much as it was going to. Gilbert looked out over them, preening like an Ornithsiville native, sticking his chest out and grinning. Red, white, and blue flags had been handed out to the audience and were being waved most patriotically. Everything looked perfect.
“My friends and fellow countrymen,” he bellowed with a grin. “Thank you for joining me! We are gathered here to celebrate government and our glorious England! But not all is perfect in this great nation of ours. Recently there has been a trend of…”
“There they go!” Alice whispered. “Perfect!”
From the far side of the market came two dancing clowns. They wore matching caps and had their clothing pulled up over upside-down skirt hoops, the resulting effect making them look like giant, perfectly round balls. On their chests each wore a giant pin, one of which said GILBERT and the other of which said QUAGLEY. They held hands high in the air and pirouetted around one another, trying to look serious while balancing on their toes.
The crowd roared in laughter and approval.
The look on Gilbert’s face was not approval. It was very, very dark.
But he knew his audience.
He put on a game grin and shouted: “All right, yes, very amusing. The hats are a nice touch.”
“I WANT TO BE MAYOR,” the Gilbert clown shouted.
“I WANT TO KICK LITTLE CHILDREN IN THEIR PANTS,” the Quagley clown cried.
“THEY’RE SO DANGEROUS!” the Gilbert clown agreed. They nodded, shook hands, and bowed.
“Who are those two?” Katz whispered.
“Friends of Aunt Viv’s. Poster painters and onetime performance artists,” Alice whispered back. “NOW!” she added, shaking the particolored scarf up and down as a signal.
