Across the desert and hills, far on the other side of Underland, Bayard the bloodhound galloped across the bluffs toward the White Queen’s castle.
In her courtyard, Mirana, the White Queen, was speaking with a Loyalist.
“The trees seem sad. Have you been speaking with them?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the loyalist answered.
“Perhaps a bit more kindly. Would you all excuse me for a moment? Thank you.”
Bayard staggered into the Queen’s courtyard and she crouched beside him, stroking his long brown ears and holding out a dish of water for him as he panted.
“What news, Bayard?” she asked in her soft, kind voice.
“Alice has returned to Underland.” He gasped.
A smile lit up the Queen’s lovely face. “Where is she now?”
“In Salazen Grum,” he admitted, flinching with guilt. “Forgive me, I allowed her to divert from her destined path.”
The Queen shook her head, her smile widening. “No, no, no, no. That is exactly where she will find the Vorpal Sword,” she explained. “We have our champion! Rest now. You’ve done well.”
Exhausted, the bloodhound collapsed to the ground.
In the garden of the Red Queen’s castle, Alice searched through the bushes. She passed the hedgehog, curled under a wide leaf and cleaning the caked dirt off his fur.
“Have you seen a hat around here?” she asked him.
The hedgehog pointed and watched as Alice spotted the Hatter’s hat, made a delighted noise, and picked it up. With loving care, she wiped off the mud and straightened it out. Whatever it took to save the Hatter, she’d have his hat waiting for him at the end.
Evening had fallen, and inside the Red Queen’s bedchamber, the Queen stood at the window with her Knave behind her.
“You must find Alice, Stayne,” said the Queen, her nails digging into the wood of the window frame. “Without the Jabberwocky, my sister’s followers will surely rise against me.” A note of bitterness crept into her voice. “Ugly little sister . . . why do they adore her and not me?”
“I cannot fathom it,” answered the Knave of Hearts, careful not to touch her. “You are far superior in all ways.”
“I know,” said the Queen without a hint of sarcasm. “But Mirana can make anyone fall in love with her: men, women, even the furniture.” She glanced dismissively at the captive animals that held up tables and chairs and lamps around the room. She didn’t even see them as animals anymore; to her they were simply furniture, and to discover they had any feelings might astonish or amuse her.
“Even the King,” said the Knave of Hearts quietly.
The Red Queen turned her dark gaze to the window again, letting it travel slowly down to the grim moat of bobbing heads below. “I had to do it. He would have left me.”
“Majesty,” the Knave said, “isn’t it better to be feared than loved?”
“Not certain anymore,” she answered. Some internal struggle seemed to take place, and finally she burst out: “Oh, let her have the rabble! I don’t need them. I have you.” She leaned her enormous head back, looking at him with big, dewy eyes. “I do have you, don’t I, Stayne?”
He managed a smile, which, fortunately for him, seemed to be enough of a reply for the Queen.
Alice ducked as she entered the Queen’s dressing room. Strange stars twinkled outside the window in a velvety night sky. The room had only one occupant: the Hatter, surrounded by ribbons, bows, veils, and feathers. He hummed happily as he worked. Already several huge, colorful hats were perched on dummies and scattered across the floor.
“They’re wonderful!” Alice cried with sincere awe. “You must let me try one on.”
Instantly the Hatter swept a splendid hat off a shelf and perched it on her head. Tall blue feathers bobbed down in her face and tiny diamonds sparkled around the wide rim. Fake little bluebirds nested among the feathers and an enormous silver veil cascaded down her back. Alice giggled as she whirled around. If only the hats her mother attempted to make her wear were this much fun!
She struck a “grand lady” pose, imagining Lady Ascot. Then she grabbed another hat and perched it on the Hatter’s head. He immediately struck the same pose, and they both laughed.
“It’s good to be working at my trade again,” said the Hatter, removing his hat and stroking it lovingly.
Alice took off her hat as well. She gently placed it back on the shelf. “It’s just a pity you had to make them for her.”
The Hatter looked around the room as if he’d just realized what he’d done. His face filled with remorse and self-recrimination, and he slumped mournfully.
“What is the hatter with me? Hatter . . . Mmmmm, ma.” he asked.
Suddenly, fury seized him. He swiped his hand across the table, sending all the tools of his trade flying.
Alice jumped in front of him, knocked the scissors away, and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Hatter!”
He froze, and she could see the fear in his eyes. “Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk? I don’t like it here, it’s terribly crowded. Have I gone mad?” he whispered.
She felt his forehead with her hand as her father had done to her so many years ago. “I’m afraid so,” she said. “You’re entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret . . . all the best people are.”
The Hatter straightened his shoulders with pride. Even his clothes seemed to puff up.
Alice reached behind a box and produced the Hatter’s own bedraggled top hat. His eyes filled with emotion as Alice put it on his head and tapped the rim proudly. “That’s better,” she said. “You look yourself again.”
The Hatter was too overwhelmed to speak. He took off the hat and pressed it to his heart with an expression full of gratitude.
They were suddenly interrupted by the piercing sound of the Red Queen’s voice. “Hat man!” she shrieked from the next room. “Where are my hats? I am not a patient monarch!”
The Hatter seemed to come to. He seized Alice’s hand intensely, keeping his voice low. “I’m told she keeps the Vorpal Sword hidden in the castle. Find it, Alice. Take it to the White Queen.
Alice glanced down at the long, thick chain binding his ankle to the wall. She still wasn’t sure about slaying any Jabberwocky, but she could think of something else she’d like to do with that sword.
“We’ll go to the White Queen together,” she said, taking his other hand. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and Alice found herself wishing she weren’t quite so absurdly huge.
The Hatter grinned ruefully, evidently having the same thought. “Why is it you’re always too small or too tall?” he asked.
Alice slipped away to find her courtroom while the Red Queen was busy trying on hats. The Tweedles were stationed outside the door, one on each side.
“Tweedles!” Alice said happily when she spotted them. Considering how silly and maddening they could be, she was surprised at how delighted she was to see them. She only wished it were in better, less prisoneresque circumstances.
They each took one of her hands and shook them vigorously. “Alice!” they cried in unison.
“Howdoyedo again,” said Tweedledum.
“Where’s the Rabbit—” Alice started, but Tweedledee interrupted.
“How is it you’re being so great big?” he asked.
“She ain’t great big,” said his brother. “This is how she normal is.”
“I’m certain she is smaller when we met,” insisted Tweedledee.
“She had drank the pishsalver, to get through the door. Recall it?” said Tweedledum.
“Where’s the Rabbit?” Alice asked again.
“Over theres!” they chorused together, but each pointed in the opposite direction. Alice sighed.
These two weren’t exactly the most reliable guides, but when they set off, she had little choice but to follow them.
Much to her surprise, after some walking and climbing stairs and roundabout wandering, they actually came to the White Rabbit. He was whispering with a chambermaid, but as they got closer, Alice realized the maid was actually the Dormouse in disguise.
“What are you doing here?” the Dormouse asked.
“I’m rescuing the Hatter,” Alice replied.
“I’m rescuing the Hatter,” the Dormouse corrected her.
“He told me that the Vorpal Sword is hidden in the castle. Help me find it,” Alice said.
The Tweedles immediately hurried off, but the Dormouse and White Rabbit remained. “I don’t take orders from big, clumsy, galumphing—” The Dormouse stood her ground.
Alice loomed over her and pointed imperiously. “Shoo!”
With a humiliated squeak, the Dormouse stalked off. Alice turned and saw that the White Rabbit was still there.
“What is it, McTwisp?” she asked.
He paused, then looked up at her with serious eyes.
“I know where the sword is.”