I t’s not easy to do so, but I get used to the scribbling after a couple of attempts. I’m staring at a sentence, one that was carved with a sharp instrument on the wall. It strikes me that it is the same writing style as that on the wall in my cell. Whoever wrote this, also wrote that. Only this one doesn’t mention the number 14 or any of the like. It’s a clear sentence, zigzagged in a sloping curve, diagonal to the wall:
…and there she walked with HIM, one hand in His, the other holding a knife behind her back…
I shrug, not sure what’s going on.
“Show her the other one,” Tom says.
The Mushroomer does. I follow the beam of light. The new sentence says:
…and she persuades him she is his apprentice, and he believes her… she kills and spills blood with him… wherever they go, smoke follows them, like a fog, like a sinful mist… he finally trusts her as one of his own, but still she can’t figure out his weakness…
“More,” Tom requests of the Mushroomer.
For half an hour I continue reading incomplete sentences scribbled on the wall. Most of them about ‘her’ in small letters and ‘Him’ in capitals. A disjointed story, but one that simply narrates what I suppose is about me and the Pillar, back in Wonderland.
“So it’s true.” I lean back against the wall, my breath tightening in my chest.
“I’d say it’s a myth,” Tom suggests. “We don’t know who Him or her are.”
“But I know.” I sigh. “It all makes sense now. I wanted to hurt the Pillar by joining him and learning of his weakness. We killed and hurt people, and I must have caught Black Chess’s eye in the end — if he doesn’t turn out being Black Chess himself.”
“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” Tom says.
“It does.”
“No, it doesn’t. Why would you have done this?”
“Revenge.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” I let out a painful sigh. “But whatever it is, the Pillar must have hurt me really badly.”
“How badly?”
Slowly my eyes face Tom Truckle. I think my stare worries him so much he takes a step forward instead of back. He must be sympathizing. “I think the Pillar is my father.”
Tom is speechless.
“An evil father. So evil I was ready to sacrifice my reputation and sanity to kill. I think I figured out his weakness.” I can’t believe the words I’m saying, but it’s my only conclusion. “But then something happened, and he came to gain my trust, playing me around.”
“For what?”
“Remember when he made me believe he was the Hatter, only to get to one of the keys?” I’m improvising here.
Tom nods, though I’m not sure he does remember. His face lights up, though. “Are you saying the Pillar did all that to…”
“To find the Six Keys? Yes,” I say. “I think the Six Keys are his weakness.”