I nside the Great Hall, I walk among tourists. I didn't know tourists from all over the world visited during college hours, but I like the idea.
Everything around me is grand and majestic. I come across a table covered with empty teacups right before the Great Hall's massive door. "What are those teacups for?"
"They are usually for professors' and intellectualists' meetings," the Pillar says. "Rarely are they for the priests from the cathedral, who sometimes have special meetings in here too."
"Don't tell me the Mad Hatter is involved?" I don't know how I even dare to ask.
"Be careful of what you wish for, Alice," the Pillar says. "He's even worse than the Cheshire. Are you inside the hall yet?"
"I am."
"Tell me where the arrow on the map points exactly. Can you make it out?" the Pillar asks.
"It points at the portraits on the wall behind the tables in the Great Hall."
"These are portraits of very respectable men and women you're staring at, except they aren't wizards." The Pillar chews on the words. I think he really hates Harry Potter. "Well, they are real wizards of science, literature, and all sorts of arts. Can you tell me which portrait the Cheshire Cat wants us to see?"
"Hmm…" I count the portraits on the map. "It should be… let me see…" I walk tangent to the wall and, finally, stand in front of a black-and-white portrait. It's of a middle-aged man, with fair features and nurtured hair. He looks very familiar. Very intelligent. I read the sign underneath: "Charles Lutwidge Dodgson."
"Interesting." I hear the Pillar breathe into his pipe. "So, that's what the Cheshire wants us to look at."
"Who's Charles Lutwidge Dodgson?" I say.
"Shame on you, Alice." The Pillar laughs. "It's Lewis Carroll's real name. It's written right under the name on the plaque."
"Lewis isn't his real name?"
"Lewis Carroll is a pen-name, part of the forgery of the truth behind Wonderland," the Pillar says. "Let's figure out why the Cheshire wants us to look here. It's one of his games, I'm sure. There has to be a reason behind it."
"Maybe he's just fascinated with Lewis Carroll?" I suggest, unable to see something peculiar in the portrait.
"You still think this isn't the real Cheshire Cat, and just some infatuated copycat?" the Pillar says. "You're even worse than the media. Look harder at the portrait. Something must be odd. The Cheshire likes riddles."
I look, but I can't see anything that catches my eye. I even check the portrait's frame, to no avail. A couple of tourists glance awkwardly at me when I do that. "Could you just tell me what I am looking for?" I whisper, aware of a few people around me, probably thinking I am mad, talking into the headset all the time.
"It depends on what you want to find," the Pillar says.
"That's not funny."
"I think it is. Tell me, Alice. Lewis's picture is a profile, right? Do you see anything in the direction he is looking toward?"
"Another portrait. Einstein."
"Does he still look crazy with that white cotton-candy-like hair?" the Pillar says. "Anyways, I don't think that the Cheshire wants us to look at Einstein. How about the portrait opposite to Lewis's on the other side?"
I turn around. "Actually, there is no portrait in that spot on the other side. You think it's a secret door?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's unlikely that the answer is that far from the location of the portrait," the Pillar says. "Since the portrait faces the table, do you see anything unusual on the spot facing Lewis Carroll?"
"I do," I say. "It's definitely unusual, but I don't think it belongs to the Cheshire."
"Can you please describe it?" I sense the Pillar's curiosity in my ears.
"It's a block of cheese." I try to sound casual. Why is there a block of cheese in the Great Hall?
"Cheese. How quaint." The Pillar laughs. "Of course, I don't have to tell you what cheese and a grin have in common."
"I suppose you say 'cheese' when you grin in a picture, which refers to the Cheshire Cat somehow?"
"He has a sick, surreal sense of humor, doesn't he?"
"He has a sick mind. He kills young girls. Besides, it says 'Cheshire Cheese' on the block."
"Cheshire Cheese. Now that's clever." The Pillar snaps his fingers.
"I don't see how."
"Lewis Carroll was born in Daresbury, Warrington, in Cheshire," the Pillar says.
"Is that a coincidence?"
"From now on, there are no coincidences. Everything we'll go through is carefully planned by the Cheshire, and its solution has to relate to Lewis Carroll."
"Is that what inspired Carroll to create the Cheshire character, because he was born in the town of Cheshire?"
"Create, no. Write about, yes," the Pillar explains. "Cheshire is a dairy county, long known for a peculiar cheese warehouse in the banks of the River Dee. That's when it was still a port, more than a hundred years ago."
"So?"
"Patience, my dear mad girl." The Pillar pauses and takes a longer drag. He wants to teach me to listen and not interrupt him. "Of course, a cheese warehouse in Cheshire attracted a whole lot of miserable rats." He imitates their squeaky voices on the phone. I am starting to glimpse part of his insanity. "The rats came from all over the world to the cheese warehouse, thanks to the ships arriving to transport the cheese. That's when the cats crawled into Cheshire County, assembling on the dockside to catch the endless amount of rats. And since no Pied Piper ever came to Cheshire, the Cheshire Cats were the happiest in the kingdom. Happiest means they grinned all the time."
I find myself wanting to sit all of a sudden, still staring at that grinning cat on the block of cheese on the table. Part of the Pillar's story sent thunderbolts to my head as if I should remember this myself, but I can't. Another part was the craziness of the fact that the Cheshire Cat is real. This isn't a game. This isn't a copycat.
"Alice?" the Pillar says.
"I'm here. Just felt a bit dizzy. Why is the Cheshire sending us this message, then?"
"Well, for one, the message is for me. I imagine he has other riddles for you, later. As for now, he wants to remind us he is real, not just a grinning cat in a book with pictures. He has a history and an origin. He wants us to respect him."
"So, what is he? A cat possessing someone's soul?" I let out a nervous laugh.
"I can't answer that now. But you'll never look at cats the same way again, will you?" The Pillar laughs without acknowledging me. "Now, let's get back to the puzzles. Look closer at the block of cheese. You might find something underneath it. I'm sure this game isn't finished yet."
I pick up the cheese and inspect it.
"Anything?" the Pillar asks.
"Yes," I say. "When I turn the cheese upside down, I see something carved on its back."
"Please read it, Alice. Meow some Cheshire music to my ears." The Pillar is a notch too excited now. I'm caught between a serial killer I am supposed to catch, and another puffing nonsense in my ears.
"It says: Eat Me ." I shake my head at the silliness.
"Now that's frabjous in a very Jub Jub way." The Pillar claps his hands.
"Look, I'm not going to do it," I whisper with gritted teeth as I fist my hands.
"I think you will, Alice," the Pillar says in the calmest voice I've ever heard.
"Listen, you little piece of…" I wave my forefinger in the air and notice people tilting their heads toward me. "You little piece of caterpillar." I smile broadly at the tourists. They squint at my absurdness.
"Poor girl. She's so into the act that she really is Alice," an old woman with bushy white hair tells her husband. "She even dresses like her."
"Wise woman." The Pillar laughs at me on the phone.
"The tourists think I am a loon." I turn and face Lewis Carroll's portrait, so I can talk to him privately.
"Good for you, or they'd be calling the police for suspicious activity in the Great Hall. Now be a good girl, and do what the Cheshire asks."
"Tell me one reason why I should, Professor Pillar," I challenge him. "You can't make me."
"Please look at the back of the Cheshire's map, and then tell me you have changed your mind." He is too sure of himself. No hint of sarcasm or insanity.
I pull the crumpled map from my pocket and flatten it upon the portrait. The heck with what people think of me. I flip it on its back and discover there is handwriting in the middle: Either you solve my riddles fast, or the next girl dies before noon . The message hits me like a pebble in the eye. I raise my head and gaze at the sun beyond the high windows. Its rays are almost perpendicular outside. I have so little time to save a girl from death. The sneaky Pillar knew about her from the beginning.
"Still think you're not mad, Alice?" The Pillar's voice scares me. "Because it rather takes a mad to catch a mad."