Red Queen (17 page)

Alice didn't know what to say to this bald statement, so she simply nodded. She had expected, somehow, something like a trial, that there would be arguments presented or that she might have to convince them to agree to her plan.

“You may go,” Asgar said, and the other men nodded.

Why on earth all the formality?
Alice thought, as she left the hall. They could have just sent a message to Brynja.

They wanted to get a look at you, to see if they could see what you were made of,
a voice whispered, and it was not Alice's voice. She brushed at her ear like she was brushing away a fly. Really, she didn't know how Cheshire had managed it, but he had clearly managed to make some sort of connection with Alice again. That connection was inconsistent and not as powerful as before, else he would constantly be providing her with unwanted advice.

Why was he following her about, anyway? Alice was far from the City, far from Cheshire and the influence he had gained through Alice's actions. She had not meant to help him, but she
and Hatcher had killed the Rabbit and the Walrus and the Caterpillar and so Cheshire now controlled a large part of the City. What did he need Alice for, except to amuse himself?

And really,
Alice thought,
if he must watch me and interfere, then why not do something useful, like warn me before Hatcher went running off into the woods?

The odd experience with the elders and the reminder of Cheshire left Alice feeling very grumbly, so when Brynja looked at her hopefully Alice just said, “They're letting me go,” in a short, angry voice.

A moment later she said, in a more subdued tone, “I'm sorry.”

Brynja shook her head, dismissing Alice's apology. “It's all right. You have much on your mind now.”

“Yes,” Alice said, coming to a decision. “I think I should leave now, and go to the oak tonight.”

Brynja stared. “But the full moon is tomorrow eve.”

“Yes,” Alice said. “And if the White Queen does not collect me tonight, then she will surely do so tomorrow, so long as you all stay in the village and do not send any child forth.”

“But why leave tonight?” Brynja asked.

“I . . . have a feeling that I ought to,” Alice said. She did not say that she was worried about Pen lurking about at the far end of the village, even though she was. She didn't wish the villagers to catch sight of the giant, or for anything to happen to him. Alice hadn't forgotten that the Black King had burned Pen's brothers without reason or mercy.

“Well,” Brynja said as they reentered the cottage. “I have some things for you to take with you, if you will accept them.”

She had made Alice a little pile of supplies—fresh clothes to replace Alice's old ones, and some bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth. And hanging on the chair was a heavy fur cloak, one that seemed very familiar to Alice.

Alice emptied out her pack, carefully switching the bottle with the thing-to-be-forgotten from her old pants to the bottom of the sack. She didn't even look at the bottle as she made the switch, but kept it carefully covered with her hand. Brynja wrinkled her nose at Alice's dirty clothes and blanket and carried them outdoors without a word. A short time later the pack was refilled. Alice fastened the cloak around her neck.

“I have one more gift for you,” Brynja said, and she opened the trunk that stood at the foot of the bed.

She drew out a large knife, very much like one of the knives that Hatcher carried, and Alice knew this was her husband's hunting knife. Alice held up her hands in protest.

“I can't,” she began, but Brynja cut her off.

“It's of no use to me,” she said. “And you do not know the dangers ahead of you. Please take it.”

Alice did. It was much heavier than the little knife that Bess had given her, the one that she had lost in the woods, and it seemed more obviously a weapon, somehow. The little knife had been a last resort to defend herself. This was the blade of an aggressor, of something Alice was not.

But something you might have to be,
she thought.

She slid the knife inside her pack. Then she stood before Brynja, and wondered what to say to this woman who had lost so much.

Brynja put her hands on Alice's shoulders and tugged her down so that she could kiss Alice's forehead. “May all the gods watch over you, and bring you courage when you need it.”

“I will do my best for you,” Alice said. “For Eira.”

Brynja nodded, and Alice left. As she walked through the village, the people she met bowed their heads. Some kissed the tips of their fingers and then placed their fists over their hearts, a gesture that Alice hoped meant good luck and not that they were already mourning her loss.

The village ended as abruptly as it began, though at a slightly higher elevation due to the odd nature of its planning. Alice wondered once more why the people had chosen to build it that way, and then shook her head and decided that their Seer must have told them so.

The ground immediately before Alice was covered in scrubby grass and small rocks. Farther up she could see the tumbled boulders of her dream, a field of rock that looked like it would be difficult to climb. There was no sign of the great oak, but since there were not many trees, it should be easy enough to find.

The day was bright and clear, and the sun shone down and made the fur cloak Alice wore heavy. She took off the cloak and carried it over her arm, but this soon became awkward as the slope of the mountain grew more extreme. She wished to leave
the heavy thing behind but knew this was a foolish thought. It would be cold at the top of the mountain.

After a couple of hours passed, she glanced behind her and saw that she had not come as far as she hoped. How was it that the villagers could walk with their children to the great oak so easily? Did they begin earlier in the day than Alice had? She stopped and ate a little and drank some water and wondered where Pen might be hiding. There were no obvious places for a giant here where everything was exposed.

Alice continued on until night fell and she reached the start of the boulder field. As the sun set, the air quickly grew chilly and she was grateful for the cloak again. She was very tired, and looked for a crevice that might comfortably hold her for the night while protecting her from the wind.

Once she settled into a place, Alice closed her eyes and tried not to notice how very silent it was, much more silent than the forest had ever been. She closed her eyes and hoped she would not dream.

“Miss Alice.”

A very large voice. A very polite voice.

“Miss Alice,” the voice repeated.

Alice opened her eyes and found it was still dark out, and Pen loomed over her, a shadow blotting out the stars.

“It's a good thing I found you, Miss Alice,” Pen said. “I heard a wolf howling, up on the top of the mountain.”

“It's only Hatcher,” Alice murmured, drifting in and out of sleep. The exertions of the day had made Alice sleep very hard, and she wished to close her eyes again until morning came.

“No, I don't think it is,” Pen said.

“You can't know that,” Alice said, pulling the fur cloak tighter around her and settling in again.

“Neither can you,” Pen pointed out. “I've lived in this place longer than you have, and I tell you that I don't think this wolf is safe. The goblin keeps a wild pack of his own, and the White Queen has a white wolf that does her bidding.”

“Oh, very well,” Alice grumbled, rising to her feet. “Where shall we go, then? If there is trouble from the castle, then we would only go toward it, for that is where our path should lead us. And a wolf can track us no matter how we try to hide.”

“I don't wish to hide,” Pen said. “I only wish for you to be awake, in the event that something happens.”

“Yes, yes,” Alice said. “As long as I am awake, let us continue to the great oak.”

Pen gave her a quizzical look, and Alice told him of the tree where the villagers left their sacrifices to the Queen.

“I did not know of this,” Pen said. “Is it not enough that she fools all travelers entering the wood?”

“And another thing,” Alice said. “One of the women in the village told me that this queen is not the queen that cursed you and your brothers.”

Alice could not read the giant's expression in the dark, but she thought she felt him start.

“It is not?” Pen asked. “How could that be? It
feels
like the same queen when she speaks to me.”

“I was told that this queen stole the powers of the old queen, and that the stealing made her mad,” Alice said.

How funny,
Alice thought,
that both the White Queen and the Black King are false Magicians, thieves who took the magic of another. And how very not funny the way that they ruin everything between them.

“Pen,” Alice asked. “When was the last time you actually
saw
the White Queen?”

“The night that she cursed me and my brothers,” Pen said. “Though Cod said that he saw her many times in the woods.”

“And she speaks to you in your mind?” Alice asked.

Pen nodded. “Yes. Though she has not since the night that I left you in the cottage in the wood, and my brothers were killed.”

There was something Alice was missing here, she felt. It was important that this was not the same queen as before, though if her magic had passed to another, perhaps it should not be so. Magic was magic, no matter who wielded it. If that were not true, then why had the Walrus wanted to eat her?

And the vision she'd had, the one of the Black King trying to cozen something from the Queen—what did that mean? What did the Queen have that the King wanted?

And the children—what was the Queen doing with the children? It was all fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle, Alice thought, only the pattern didn't make sense to her. The White Queen was not the same queen as before. The Black King stole his powers from another Magician, as she had. The Black King burned
everything in anger, but he did not burn down the Queen's castle. The Queen stole the children of the village, but the Black King did not seem to care.

Alice had not heard the crying of the wolves before, but now she did. There was very definitely a pack, barking and howling and running their way down the mountain, directly toward Alice and Pen.

“We must move away from here,” the giant said.

Alice didn't really see the point in running about trying to avoid the wolves. If the animals wanted to find them, then there was nothing Alice or Pen could do about it, as she had told him. But the giant seemed very anxious to get away from the animals, and Alice was willing to cooperate for the moment.

Pen moved downhill, toward the village. In just a few short steps he was far enough away from Alice that she had to shout to stop him.

“Not that way,” Alice said. “You don't want to lead them into the village.”

“Of course, Miss Alice,” Pen said, looking abashed.

Alice stood for a moment, listening to the movement of the pack. It was difficult to determine exactly where they were, given the way sound echoed so oddly down the side of the mountain. First it seemed as though the wolves were directly above them, then almost beside them. Alice decided to ignore the noise and move directly up, which was the direction she ultimately wanted to go in any case.

Alice climbed, and Pen climbed with her, often getting far ahead and having to wait for her to catch up. He had offered
to carry Alice again, as he had in the woods, but she wished to move under her own power.

A very small part of her still mistrusted the giant, and did not wish to be trapped in his hand. If the White Queen spoke to him, would he still obey her? He said not, that the death of his brothers had him seeking vengeance against her. But how could Alice be certain? Pen had served the White Queen—in one form or another—for a very long time. He said he hadn't wanted to leave her in the woods, but he had anyway. What if he was leading Alice into a trap?

While Alice was thinking these thoughts, the sound of the wolves abruptly stopped. She didn't notice at first, until she caught up with Pen and found him looking around in confusion.

“What is it?” Alice asked, and then the silence registered. “Where have they gone?”

“Maybe they were never there in the first place,” Pen said.

A trick,
Alice thought,
like the one the goblin played on me at the cottage.
She very much hoped that did not mean the goblin was about.

Then suddenly there was a barking and howling and growling and snarling such that they had not heard before, and it seemed to be only a short distance behind them. Alice peered into the darkness below and thought she saw shadows moving very quickly toward them, and the gleam of white teeth in the moonlight.

“Hurry, Miss Alice, hurry, hurry,” Pen said. “You go ahead and I will hold them here.”

Alice hurried, clambering over the rocks and going higher and higher, until she lost sight of Pen in the dark. The sound of wolves kept approaching, and Alice wondered if the animals had avoided the giant altogether.

Then she felt what seemed to be the shifting of the very earth beneath her feet, accompanied by a loud scraping sound. She realized that Pen had picked up a boulder or two and was about to throw them on the wolves below.

And one of those wolves could be Hatcher.
Alice felt a spurt of panic as there was a crashing, rending noise and the yelping of panicked animals.

“Hatcher,” she breathed, and then heard the smashing of rocks into bones again. The whole mountainside seemed to tremble.

The wolf pack was silent now, whether because they had scattered and run away or because they were all dead, Alice did not know. She squinted into the shadows, expecting to see Pen coming toward her, but there was nothing. She couldn't even see the outline of the giant.