Director’s office, Radcliffe Asylum, Oxford
“I need you to find the serum sooner,” Fabiola told Tom Truckle. “I need to convert the Mushroomers into my army.”
“It’s a long process,” Tom Truckle said and popped down a couple of pills. “I am doing my best.”
“Your best is not good enough. If Lewis made you create the asylum for the purpose of saving the Mushroomers, then you better be good for the job.”
“You’re not the only one who cares about the war, Fabiola,” Tom said. “Don’t act like you know better.”
“I know more than you think I know!” She rapped her hand on his desk.
Tom swallowed a couple of more pills. “What the hell was I thinking, dragging myself into this Wonderland War?”
“You’re a Wonderlander like all of us, so don’t try to escape your responsibilities.”
“I am a mere Mock Turtle. A useless and slow animal. I am soup at best,” he lamented. “I’m so not important, Lewis only mentioned me in a single page in the whole book.”
“I don’t care,” Fabiola said. “Find a serum. Bring those mad Mushroomers back to their senses. Make them fight the war they were destined to fight.”
“Aye, aye, boss,” Tom said. “All this aside, what about that Chessmaster?”
“What about him?”
“Who is he?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“That’s not original, because that’s what he said too.”
Fabiola tapped her fingers on the table impatiently.
“If you tell me, I will expedite the serum’s invention,” Tom said.
Fabiola looked like she was going to choke him, but she seemed to need that serum badly. “All right. I will tell you. But I will kill you if you tell anyone else.”
“Only me and my flamingo friend downstairs will know.”
“Not even him, you understand?”
“I was joking. We all know now he is a spy for the Queen.”
“Which makes me wonder why you haven’t gotten rid of him yet.”
“I thought he may be useful at some point.”
“Whatever that means. I don’t even want you to tell yourself what I am going to say to you.”
“It’s that secret?” Tom leaned back in his chair. Being closer to Fabiola was making him uncomfortable.
“It’s that scary.” She leaned forward, cornering him in a bad place. “The Chessmaster is…”
Fabiola suddenly stiffened in place. The veins in her neck stiffened too. Then she began shaking, hands on her stomach, and then vomited on Truckle’s desk.
And before he knew it, the White Queen fell silently to her knees, hardly breathing, as if she was about to die.