Furthermore (23 page)

Paramint never wanted them to leave.

He'd been waiting fifty-six years for visitors, which meant he'd had fifty-six years to plan all the things they would do when visitors finally arrived.

Alice only realized this when they'd reached Paramint's home. The hanging homes were quite spacious and sturdy, despite their eggshell exteriors, which made Alice wonder where these eggs had come from. What kind of creature could lay an egg so large? She decided she didn't want to think about it. But then, she also didn't want to think about the very large scroll Paramint was pulling out of a trunk in the round of his home, but there wasn't much she could do to stop it happening.

“We'll start with a celebration, of course,” Paramint said as the scroll unfurled at his feet. “And it will be a very grand day indeed. A feast for all, even the little ones! We'll have dozens of cakes and every fresh berry and pitchers of fairysnip and candied–corn husks. We'll have a musical jamboree! We'll sing every dawn and dance every night!”

(Alice and Oliver were sitting on Paramint's very small pumpkin-orange couch, not saying a word.)

“Of course, we must first alert the queens,” Paramint was saying, “who'll then alert the princesses, who will then alert the twincesses, who will then—”

“Paramint,” Alice said, clearing her throat quietly.

“Yes, your honorableness,” he said, dropping the scroll in an instant. “What good thing may I do for you?”

Alice smiled an uncertain smile, unaccustomed to such attentions, and said, “We are so, so grateful for all your kindness, and so excited to be in the land of Left—”

“It really is the most lovely place,” Oliver said, smiling as he looked around.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” said Paramint, blushing. “Thank you so much.”

“But I'm afraid we can't stay for very long,” Alice said carefully. “Is there any chance we could cut short the festivities?”

Paramint was deathly still for only a few moments before he began nodding, very quickly. “Of course,” he said. “Of course. Forgive me, your honorableness, I should not have assumed you would want to celebrate so much.”

Alice smiled, relieved.

“I will make the proper changes to our schedule,” Paramint said, still nodding. “I'm certain that with the right planning, we may yet have a wonderful time—and celebrate just as
thoroughly!—over a ten-year period.” Paramint was smiling a pained sort of smile. “Will that be alright, do you think? It will be difficult, yes, and it will mean a lot of very busy days, but I'm sure, together, we can make it work.”

Alice looked from Paramint to Oliver, and from Oliver to the eggshell house, and from the eggshell house to the world that lay beyond it, and she began to panic all over.

Every inch, panicking.

And she didn't know what to do.

Oliver didn't appear to either.

They said nothing, the two of them. Alice sat there like a stone, turned solid from the inside out, and Paramint didn't even seem to notice. She was all dread and worry and fear and she didn't know how they'd get themselves out of this one, she really didn't. She rolled Paramint's words over and over in her mind.

How many queens were there? How many princesses? How many twincesses? More importantly, how angry would the twincesses be if Alice and Oliver tried to escape? And where,
where
, did those eggshells come from?

Alice wasn't sure she wanted to know the answers to her own questions. But she knew they needed a plan.

Paramint had left them alone for a stretch (he was seeing about their baths, he'd said) and she and Oliver were still sitting on that little couch in the eggshell house, staring at each other like they thought they could summon solutions out of
each other's brains. Speaking of brains, using theirs had turned out to be a very bad idea, and Alice said as much to Oliver.

He didn't seem bothered at all.

“Oh, don't worry about Paramint,” Oliver said, waving a hand as he got to his feet. “That's what I'm here for, remember? I can always persuade him to let us go. I'm not worried about that.”

Relief flooded through Alice so quickly she would've needed to sit down if she weren't already sitting. “Well, why didn't you say something
sooner
?” She collapsed backward on the couch, every tense muscle in her body coming undone. “And why didn't you try to convince Paramint while he was still here?”

“Because I haven't the faintest idea where we'll go if we leave right now,” Oliver said. “We need a safe place to stay until we figure out how to find a painter. Perhaps Paramint will be able to help us.”

Alice made a small sound of agreement before letting herself melt more completely into the couch. Alice was so tired and so full of fears and worries that she could almost understand what it was like to be a real grown-up. In any case, she desperately needed a break and she was grateful for the chance to let her guard down for just a moment longer.

But Oliver wouldn't allow it.

“Up, up,
up
,” he said abruptly. “Now's not the time to be lazy, Alice. We must remember to pay extra attention while we're here, especially now that we know we're being watched more closely than most.”

Alice threw Oliver a grumpy look and stumbled up to her feet.

“Now, I don't think Paramint is the one to worry about,” said Oliver, “but all the same, we must keep our eyes and ears open for anything that seems interesting or suspicious. Perhaps if we listen closely we'll be able to unearth something new. In the meantime, I'll see what I can do about finding a painter.”

It wasn't much to go on, but it would have to do.

Alice sighed. It was a struggle to remain optimistic. Everything had already gone terribly, horribly wrong, and for every minute they spent searching for anyone but Father, Alice grew more anxious. She was being crushed by the guilt of her own perceived selfishness—and if they didn't find a painter soon, she would insist they abandon the plan to fix her arm. Her priority was Father above all else, and she couldn't risk losing him again.

Alice and Oliver desperately needed a bath.

Paramint led them down a mossy branch that led to a ladder nailed into the trunk of a nearby tree. They climbed until they reached the very top of the trunk, which had long since been hacked off and flattened out. The top of the tree was now a large, flat, oblong expanse of polished wood, and atop it were dozens of gleaming porcelain tubs.

Ladies and gentlemen dressed much like Paramint were awaiting Alice's and Oliver's arrival with towels, robes, bouquets of flowers, and pots and pots of something warm.

Alice was so excited to be clean again that she was already untying the ties of her skirts. Oliver, ever the gentleman, saw Alice half undressing and began to fidget, clearing his throat and stuffing his hands in his pockets and studying a tree branch very carefully. Unfortunately for Oliver, his discomfort was no discomfort of hers, as Alice was unaware of his blushing and fidgeting. She hated clothes and was happy to be rid of them.

Alice gladly followed a smiling lady to an empty tub and let herself relax; she was about to have a bath and, just this once, she would allow herself to enjoy something in Furthermore. She would bathe, and it would be beautiful. She couldn't wait.

The lady helping Alice introduced herself as Ancilly, and Alice decided she liked Ancilly's smiling, honey-hued face and frizzy shock of red hair. Ancilly helped Alice step out of the rest of her clothes and into the tub, and there Alice sat, using her one arm to pull her knees to her chest. She shivered as a cool breeze blew past.

And then: pure, undiluted delight.

Friends, this was not a bath of hot water, but of warm milk: rich and silky in a way that made Alice's very bones unclench. Ancilly poured pot after pot of warm milk into the tub until it was sloshing against Alice's shoulders. She sank down and let her limbs melt into the milk, and just as she thought the beauty of this moment had reached its maximum, Ancilly brought out the bouquets she'd been carrying. She broke off the blooms one handful at a time and carefully tossed them into the tub. The flowers bobbed at the surface, rainbow icing on the cake of a delicious experience, and Alice closed her eyes, enjoying every minute. Their fragrance soothed her, and the warm milk soothed her, and the colors soothed her, and soon Alice was cocooned in pleasure, and she was reminded, all at once, why Furthermore was so dangerous. Alice knew
she could lie there, in that tub, forever, and she knew then that she had to be even more cautious as the moments passed.

Soon
, she thought. Very soon she would be cautious.

But right now—
for right now
—she would relax.

Too soon, Ancilly had returned with a warm towel, and too soon, Alice was dry and clean and smelling of sunshine. Alice was swiftly wrapped in a toasty robe, and Ancilly set to work running a comb through her wet hair.

Ancilly hummed as she worked out the knots and, once that was done, she sang a sweet, sad song as she braided it all together. Her voice was low and soothing—almost a murmur—and Alice, who was nearly drunk on relaxation, could only just make out the last few words.

In the sky

In the sky

I fell one day

Into the sky

In the sky

In the sky

I fell one day

I learned to fly

Alice had very nearly fallen asleep. She startled her eyes open just in time, ever fearful of Oliver's warning to never sleep without a dream. But Ancilly's song was so rich and somber that Alice's heart had turned to jelly. Our young friend was warm and loopy, and Ancilly's gentle hands were busy weaving flowers into her hair. Alice stifled a small yawn. The unexpected pop of color from the flowers against the bright white of her hair and skin made Alice very, very happy.

Alice thanked Ancilly profusely and the lady blushed, waving off Alice's gratitude. “Please, your honorableness,” she said. “It's a treasure to have you here. If you would please wait a moment, I will return with a gift.”

So Alice waited. She sat on a little chair and thought about how pleasant it was to be clean, and how strange it was to have only one arm, and how frustrating it was to want to use the lost limb only to have to keep reminding herself that it was gone. These thoughts occupied her until Ancilly returned, and her patience was soon rewarded with something extraordinary. In Ancilly's hands was the most beautiful gown Alice had ever seen.

This dress was a true explosion of light. It was clear that it had been designed by a proper artist and made from only the richest materials; and it was certainly more beautiful than anything Alice could have sewn herself. The many skirts and bodice were a cascade of color: ruby melting into dusk, golds
becoming greens, blue and plum and raspberry drenching the hem. Each layer was pieced together delicately and deliberately, a thousand sheets of onion thin silk scalloped and shimmering like the broken wings of a butterfly. The skirts were full and robust but still weightless, ethereal. Alice was sure she could float away in this dress. She could fly in this dress.

“Ancilly,” she cried, clutching the gown to her chest. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Oh no, your honorableness,” she said, and bowed her head. “This dress was made by the greatest seamstress of the land of Left. It is Left tradition to present our visitors with only our finest gifts.” Her voice caught. “We never thought we'd have another visitor,” Ancilly said, looking like she might cry. “We are so proud, your honorableness. We are so grateful to you for bestowing your graces on our humble home. Left is so often overlooked.”

“Oh, Ancilly,” Alice said. “The pleasure is all my own.” And even though Alice meant what she said, she couldn't help but feel guilty, too. She knew she had to leave—and soon—and in order to do so she'd have to disappoint an entire village. It broke her heart, but she knew there was no other way.

Ancilly helped Alice into the new dress (Alice noticed it had no sleeves, which suited her one arm very nicely), and she took a moment to admire its details as she tucked her pamphlets, black card, and the broken pieces of her ruler into the
deep pockets of the skirt. A spray of feathers was built into the collar, up and outward, creating the illusion that Alice wore wings; every stitch was a work of art, and Alice couldn't help but admire the finery. She'd never worn anything so elegant in all her life. She spun and swam with each step, the silk ebbing and flowing against her legs. It made her miss the quiet moments she'd once resented, dancing alone in the forest, her heartbeats synchronized to the sounds of the world.

Alice was in tears.

It was all so very, very lovely. Alice was genuinely touched and couldn't believe for a second that Ancilly would ever want to eat her. After all, Oliver had said there were good and bad in every bunch, and
these
, Alice thought, these must be the good ones.

Which made her wonder.

“Ancilly,” said Alice, still admiring her gown. “If you have a seamstress here in Left—do you have a painter, too?”

Ancilly looked surprised. “I'm afraid we don't, your honorableness. Why do you ask?”

Alice nodded to where her arm used to be. “I was hoping to repair the damage,” she said. “And I've been told to find a painter.” She sighed. “You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?”

Ancilly shook her head.

Alice was disappointed. She knew it was Oliver's job to
persuade information out of others, but Ancilly seemed like someone Alice could confide in. Besides, she and Oliver had very few options. They were already out of time; they had to get to a painter
soon
.

So Alice tried again.

“Is there
anyone
here who might know where I could find a painter? Maybe the seamstress?”

Ancilly stiffened.

“Perhaps,” said Alice quickly, “perhaps the artists of Furthermore know each other—”

But Alice had said the wrong thing.

Ancilly's warmth went instantly cold, and she turned away so Alice couldn't read her face. When Ancilly next spoke, her words were clipped. “The seamstress might've known where to find a painter, but she was pushed off the branch long ago.”

Alice startled. “Pushed off the branch? Do you mean—”

“She is gone.”

“But I thought you said she made this dress?” said Alice. “How could she be gone?”

“She worked for many years, making clothes in all shapes and sizes in preparation for the day our visitors would arrive. We had to be ready,” Ancilly said quietly, “even if we couldn't be sure anyone would come.”

Alice touched her arm. “Oh, Ancilly,” she said, “I'm so sor—”

“Please excuse me, your honorableness.” Ancilly stood in
one swift motion and immediately began tidying the bath things. She said not another word to Alice.

Alice was dismayed—certain she'd done something to offend—and attempted to apologize. “I'm truly sorry,” she tried to say, “I didn't—”

But Ancilly had begun humming very loudly and pretended not to hear her. Alice looked away, dejected.

And then she heard Ancilly sing.

It was the same song as before—she recognized the tune—but this time, Alice paid closer attention.

I fell into the sky one day

And it didn't hurt at all

I fell into the sky one day

But I didn't fall at all

I saw a lady reach for me

She told me not to fear

I saw a lady speak to me

She told me help was here

Oh, I didn't know

A truth from lie

She looked so strange to me

But when she pointed

At the sky

I knew where I should be

In the sky

In the sky

I fell one day

Into the sky

In the sky

In the sky

I fell one day

I learned to fly