Bargain price

CHAPTER 14

T HE CAT stood at the edge of the cliff and stared down at the foaming, rippling spot where Alyss and Hatter had splashed into the water. Lightning flashed, thunder broke overhead, and rain fell in sheets. If there was one thing The Cat didn’t like, it was water. Rain, showers, baths, it didn’t matter which; he hated getting wet. He turned and stalked back into the forest with the scrap of Alyss’ dress in his fist.

“You let them get away,” a voice said. The Cat stopped, tense.

“They escaped,” said another.

He spun round but saw no one. The forest was talking to him, the trees and plants and flowers. “What’s the matter?” asked a nearby lilac bush. “Afraid to take a dip in the water?”

The forest had a good laugh at that, but The Cat didn’t appreciate the teasing. He bent down and tore the lilac up by its roots and threw it on the ground. The forest fell silent. The Cat walked up to a tree.

“Were you talking to me?” The tree said nothing.

The Cat glanced to his left, then right. “I don’t see anyone else here, so you must have been talking to me.”

Still the tree said not a word. It didn’t matter. The Cat raked his claws down its trunk, skinning off the bark.

“Aaaaahowwww!” the tree cried.

The Cat reentered the Crystal Continuum through the forest looking glass (its guard, the tight-lipped shrub, now more tight-lipped than ever) and reemerged in Genevieve’s sitting room. He hulked through the destruction of the sitting area and down a heart-shaped passage to the South Dining Room, stepping over dead card soldiers and guardsmen as if they had never been alive at all, never beings who laughed, cried, rejoiced, or had loved ones waiting for them at home.

Notwithstanding the blast that had rocked the palace, the bodies splayed in all manner of death on the tables and floor, the South Dining Room was a scene of celebration. Redd’s soldiers helped themselves

to wondercrumpets, fried dormice, and whatever other delicacies they could find, and none too delicately shoved them into their mouths. Not being much interested in tea, they’d raided the palace’s wine cellar, and now flooded their bellies with goblet after goblet of the queendom’s finest wine.

“To the health of Queen Redd!”

“To the death of Queen Genevieve!”

These toasts were one and the same to Redd, who was lounging in a chair, wearing the bloody crown. “Well?” she said when she saw The Cat. “Where are their heads?”

One didn’t admit failure to Redd and get away with it without suffering pain or worse. The Cat held up the shred of Alyss’ dress. “This is all that’s left of them. I’m sorry, Your Highness. I couldn’t control myself.”

“It’s unwise to control yourself in a situation like that,” Redd said. “Well done.”

But a scheming, dishonest mind such as Redd’s always suspects others of scheming and dishonesty. She tried to see Alyss in her imagination’s eye, to discover the truth for herself: nothing. Imagination could not penetrate the Pool of Tears, which was lucky for The Cat.

“She’s dead?” said a voice from behind a curtain. “Alyss is dead?”

Redd waved her hand and the curtain swung back to reveal Bibwit Harte. “If it isn’t my wise and learned tutor,” she said.

Bibwit Harte was a loyal fellow, and it was because of his loyalty to Genevieve and Alyss and White Imagination that he determined, then and there, to ensure his own survival by appeasing Redd. Though a scholar, he vowed to one day topple this mistress of Black Imagination and return Wonderland to the glory of peace. He bowed his head. “At your service, Your…Imperial Viciousness.”

Redd sneered. “‘Your Imperial Viciousness’? Ha! Yes, that’s perfect. From now on everyone will refer to me as ‘Your Imperial Viciousness’ or die. You there!”

“Yes, my quee-” a Two Card started, but was immediately pierced through the lung by one of The

Cat’s claws.

“You!” Redd said to a Three Card.

“Um, y-yes, Your…Your Imperial Viciousness?”

“I want a list of those considered sympathetic to the former queen who are not dead in this room. I am aware that General Doppelganger is not among the bodies here. Begin the list with him. For the rest, ask them.” She turned her gaze upon the suit families, who stood clustered together, trying to take up as little space as possible. “I’m sure they’ll be helpful.”

“Oh yes,” declared the Lord of Diamonds, still with a hand on Jack of Diamonds’ shoulder. “Absolutely,” said the Lady of Spades.

“Of course, by all means,” said the Lady of Clubs and her husband.

Redd was not an idiot. She knew that she couldn’t rule the queendom by fear and intimidation alone. The suit families had relationships with mayors of principalities and influential business men, with key members of what remained of the queendom’s military force-relationships that would have to be exploited for her profit and exaltation.

“There are to be some changes in the queendom, which may prove beneficial to you all,” Her Imperial

Viciousness announced. “Not the least of which is that since I have no heirs of Heart descent, nor do I

want any, I will choose my successor from one of the ranking families. Whoever among you serves me best can be assured of nothing, but you will at least have a better chance at the crown than the others.” She ventured a smile, which the Lady of Spades, for one, found more gruesome than many of the lifeless bodies surrounding her, and which, if truth be told, it physically hurt Redd to accomplish. “I trust you don’t mind my preying on your ambitions in this way?”

“Oh no,” declared the Lord of Diamonds. “Absolutely not,” said the Lady of Spades.

“By all means no,” said the Lady of Clubs and her husband.

The suit families struggled to remember who had escaped, mentioning pawns, a rook, a knight, numerous card soldiers.

“Dodge Anders has escaped!” Jack of Diamonds asserted, louder than the others. “And who might Dodge Anders be?” asked Redd.

“He is in love with Princess Alyss but pretends not to be. He’s a guardsman’s son. That’s his father, there.” Jack pointed to Sir Justice, lying dead on the floor.

Redd approached the boy. The rogue soldiers paused in the midst of their celebrations. The Cat stood motionless. No one knew what Redd might do.

“You’re a helpful one, aren’t you?” she said, squeezing his cheeks like a loving grandmother. Jack couldn’t answer because of her grip.

“Add Dodge Anders’ name to the list,” she commanded, and released Jack of Diamonds. Small bruises formed where her fingers had touched his cheeks. She removed the crown from her head and tossed it to Bibwit. “Prepare for my coronation at the Heart Crystal. Now. All members of ranking families must attend-unless, of course, they prefer the comfort of eternal sleep.”

Surrounded by Bibwit Harte, The Cat, the suit families, those of her soldiers who were not too drunk to remain upright and some who were, Redd stood in the palace courtyard before the Heart Crystal and lifted her voice to the lightning-storm sky.

“I am prepared to forgive those who thrived during my exile and did little to support my return, with this exception: Anyone harboring or aiding a creature sympathetic to the former queen or White Imagination will be hunted down, imprisoned, made to suffer untold tortures, and then executed. Now put the crown on my head.”

Bibwit Harte stepped forward to fulfill the request, but fast as he was, he proved not fast enough for

Redd. With a curl of her finger, the crown leaped from his hands and landed on her head. “I reclaim my queendom,” she declared, placing both hands on the Heart Crystal.

A jolt of energy shook her. The crystal turned from white to red-a red so deep and piercing that Bibwit and the others had to turn away or close their eyes to prevent their pupils from scorching.

Redd had claimed the power of the Heart Crystal as her own.