"W ho is the White Queen?" I ask the Pillar, but he ignores me. I can sense he's uncomfortable talking about her. There is an indecipherable look in his eyes. All I can interpret is that he highly respects her.
"The White Queen. The chess Queen. The one in Through the Looking Glass ," the Duchess replies on his behalf. She seems angry with me.
"Why would the White Queen know about the Cheshire's origins?" the Pillar asks.
"At some point in Wonderland, he confessed certain things to her. You know how charming she can be when you're down and out." The Duchess definitely hates the White Queen, too.
I watch the Pillar think about the White Queen a breath too long. It's as if he is staring into a memory. A memory so relaxing, he loosens his grip on the hose. Who is the White Queen? I'm so eager to know.
The digital pad on the wall starts to buzz, and the timer counts down.
"We have no time," the Pillar says. "The guards are on their way, and I'm not into spilling sane people's blood today." He approaches the Duchess. "I'll let you go. But if I learn that you lied to me, I'm going to make you as ugly as you were in Wonderland."
"I am telling the truth. Believe me," she pleads. I can't help but wonder what the Duchess has done to become pretty if she had been ugly in Wonderland.
"One more thing before I go," the Pillar says. "I have a brother. No need for names. Just look him up. He's been to Afghanistan. He lost his arm. He came back and lost his wife, his kids, his dog, his house, and his job. Thanks to the likes of you, he is a drug addict now."
"I'm truly sorry." The Duchess lays a hand on her heart.
"I told you not to use the word 'truly.'" He grabs her by her neck. "I want you to help him."
"All right, all right. That's doable," she says. "We'll get him a job, extra money, insurance, and a big-screen TV. We can get him a young Russian wife if you like. Anything."
I wonder how many lives the Duchess has messed with. Who does she think she is?
"I'm thinking something more elegant. He's my only brother, and I love him." The Pillar rubs his chin. The word "love" coming out of his mouth makes me cringe. "I want him to be a tennis player. In fact, the greatest tennis player in the world. Make him win Wimbledon next year."
"I'm not God. I can't do that," she protests. "He's lost his arm, for God's sake."
"It's about time a one-armed man wins something," the Pillar says. "You're the government. You promise people you can do anything."