Mad About the Hatter (14 page)

From the center of the meadow rose the four towers of the White Queen’s castle, gleaming white under the sun, but as Hatter and Henry drew closer, they began to see decay had fallen upon the castle following its mistress’s demise.

All the castle’s beautiful stained-glass windows, which Hatter remembered told the history of Wonderland in bright splashes of color against the all-white background of the castle walls, were gone, leaving the frames looking like black, lifeless eyes. Gray mold grew in wide, furry patches on the castle walls, discoloring the rich whiteness of the massive stone blocks used in its construction.

There was no moat—Hatter recalled the White Queen being most welcoming to all who sought an audience with her—but even from a distance they could see the tall double-entry doors hanging askew from their hinges. The entirety of the castle gave a distressing appearance, sad and somehow unbearably lonely, as if its purpose was to house life, but was now home only to ghosts.

Hatter paused, looking up at the four towers. The remnants of the White Queen’s flag still rippled from a pole high up on the northeast tower. Although it was shredded and grayed from exposure, he could still make out the white rose at its center.

“The place looks like it was deserted a long time ago,” Henry said. “Are you sure the mirror is still here?”

Hatter shrugged. “I hope so. It was here the last time I passed through this area, but the White Queen was very much alive then.”

“Great. Just great. What do I do if it isn’t here?” Henry began to huff and grumble, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Hatter, answer me. What am I going to do?”

Hatter rolled his eyes. “First, you can stop worrying about things over which we have no control. Either it’s here, or it isn’t. If it is, then fine. If not, we’ll worry about it then. I swear, you are the most worrisome worrywart I ever….”

His voice trailed off as he spotted something in the distance, approaching from the eastern edge of the meadow. His eyes grew wide, and his stomach lurched. “Henry?”

“Yes? What is it?” Henry’s reply was short, his temper still flavoring his voice.

“Run.”

“What?” Henry turned and looked east, where a dark shape was spreading through the white flowers like blood spilled in water. “What is that?”

“The Red Queen’s Guard. Run!” Hatter grabbed Henry’s hand and began running toward the White Castle, pulling Henry along after him. “Either Rabbit overheard us talking and told the Queen where we were going, or she simply figured it out after we disappeared. I swear, if I find out it was Rabbit, I’m going to make stew out of him when I get my hands on him again!”

They ran past the askew double doors and into the castle, finding themselves in an immense entry hall. The high, arched ceiling was laced with long, gleaming planks of wood polished to a gloss. White marble blocks, veined with the palest rose, made up the walls. Under their feet, a thick carpet covered the flagstone floor. The carpet was gray with mold—the open doors had allowed the worst of the weather inside—but they could tell that at one time it had been creamy white.

Before them, twin curving staircases rose majestically to the second floor. Hatter hurried up them, taking two at a time. Henry followed him as closely as a shadow as they raced to the next floor.

Relying on his memory, Hatter led Henry down a long hallway to yet another set of stairs. This stairway was plain in comparison to the grandness of the former. As Hatter remembered it, it was a servant’s staircase and led up to a hallway at the end of which was the Queen’s boudoir, where he’d last seen the magic mirror.

As they fled, he noticed barely any decorations were left in the castle. No statues, few paintings, and only a stick or two of furniture. It had been well and duly ransacked. He began to doubt the mirror would still be there, although he didn’t give voice to his fear. They’d find out soon enough if it was gone.

He could hear faint voices now. The Red Queen’s Guard must have entered the castle. Putting on a fresh burst of speed, he grabbed Henry’s hand again and raced down the long hallway. Finally reaching the end, he tried the handle of the door to the Queen’s bedroom.

It was locked.

He jiggled it, and twisted it, pulled on it, and cursed at it, but the knob wouldn’t budge. “Damn it! It’s locked up tight.”

“Use your magic!”

“What?”

“Your magic. Surely you can open a door with it, right? I mean, you could make yourself big, and you had the lightning bug light, and you have a pocket that probably has an elephant stuffed down in it somewhere. Tell me you can’t open a simple door!” Henry’s voice was shrill, and teetering on the edge of hysteria.

“I… I don’t know how to….” Hatter paused. Magic. Could it be the door was guarded by a simple spell? He shrugged. It was worth a try. After all, it couldn’t hurt, and looking foolish if it didn’t work was the least of his worries right now. Looking directly at the doorknob, he said, “Open.”

Nothing.

“Um, unlock? Release. Disengage.” He began jiggling the knob again. “Open, damn you!”

Henry growled and shouldered Hatter aside. Placing his hand on the knob, he said in a voice that sounded much calmer than he looked, “Open, please.”

There was a brief glimmer of golden light around the doorknob before there was a soft click of the lock unlatching, and the door swung inward.

Hatter gaped at Henry. “How did you do that?”

“Please. Even I know that’s the magic word, Hatter.” Henry’s lips curved in a small, satisfied smile, despite the direness of their situation.

Hatter felt inexplicably pleased that Henry seemed to have finally accepted the existence of magic, but he covered it in a sarcastic reply. “Well, Master Magician, if you’re quite done with your phenomenal feats, let’s move, shall we? The Red Guards will be up here any moment now!”

They slipped into the White Queen’s bedroom, and closed the door behind them. “Lock, please,” Hatter said to the doorknob. He didn’t know if it would work, but he felt it couldn’t hurt, and was pleased to hear another soft click as the lock engaged.

Not that a mere magical lock would keep the Red Guards out of the room for long—they’d simply break it down to get inside, but it would buy Hatter and Henry a few more precious moments.

The White Queen’s bedroom didn’t look as though it belonged in the castle. Unlike the rest of the castle, there was little white to be seen. Instead, a rainbow of bright colors splashed the walls, floor, and furniture. Rich jewel tones abounded in all hues… except red. Red was the only color not represented in the Queen’s boudoir. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why, either.

Red was her twin’s color, and no doubt the White Queen detested it.

Perhaps the lock-spell had done its job, because unlike the rest of the castle, this room seemed untouched. Under their feet, a thick, woven rug of brilliant colors cushioned their steps. A large swan bed dominated one wall, covered in fluffy pillows and a thick comforter the color of emeralds. Other large, ornate pieces of furniture: an armoire, a chest of drawers, and a dressing table, were scattered about, their wood and hardware gleaming as if polished that very day. Not a speck of dust marred their surfaces.

Whatever cleaning spell the White Queen had cast must still be in effect, Hatter thought, looking around the room. Then he froze, pointing. “Look, Henry, over there! In the corner. That’s it!”

Hatter and Henry dashed across the crazy-quilt rug toward a towering, ornately carved, freestanding mirror. It was easily seven feet tall and at least three feet wide, but the mirrored surface was not reflective. It was cloudy, as if in a steamy bath.

“Wow. It’s huge. Why can’t I see myself in it? It’s all foggy.” Henry reached out to wipe the surface, but Hatter caught his hand.

“It’s not that sort of looking glass,” Hatter said. “It’s a traveling mirror.”

“Wait a minute.” Henry arched an eyebrow at Hatter. “You mean you have a magic mirror that links my world and this one? Why don’t people travel back and forth all the time, then?”

Hatter huffed and looked at him as if he were an idiot. “Because every time someone steps through the mirror, they take a little magic with them. If too many people make the journey too many times, all of Wonderland’s magic will be gone. Then where will we be? That’s why the White Queen kept it here, guarded at all times.”

It made sense, in a weird, twisted sort of way—like almost everything else in Wonderland, Henry realized.

There was a sudden banging at the bedroom door. The Red Guards had arrived. The doors shuddered as if something heavy was being slammed against it from the other side.

Hatter gripped Henry’s shoulders and turned him toward the mirror. “Quickly, Henry. Step through the mirror!”

Henry nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. He took several deep breaths, and made a few false starts.

Behind them, the sound of splintering wood caught their attention. They turned and saw a broken panel of wood at the center of the door with an axe lodged in it. As they watched, an unseen hand worked the axe head free. Another brutal blow widened the crack in the door.

They gasped, and turned back to the mirror.

Hatter grabbed Henry’s arm. “What are you waiting for? They’ll break through any minute!”

“Okay, okay! Don’t rush me.”

“Stop procrastinating, and go!”

A crash thundered in the room as the rest of the door gave way. They risked a look back. The Red Guards, all armed with axes and swords, were spilling into the room through the broken door, and advancing on him and Hatter. From their grim expressions, it looked as though heads were going to roll right there in the White Queen’s boudoir.

Taking a deep breath, Hatter pushed Henry into the mirror.

I
T
WAS
like walking through a pool of corn syrup. That was the only way Henry could describe the feeling of stepping into and through the looking glass. The not-quite-fluid was clear but gelatinous, and it filled every crevice of his body—his ears, his nose, and he suspected, his eyes and mouth had he not had instinctively squeezed them shut. It only took a moment to pass through the viscous fluid, but that was quite long enough as far as Henry was concerned.

Surprisingly, when he stepped through to the other side, he was as dry as he’d been before entering the mirror. Whatever substance comprised the membrane between the worlds, it dried instantaneously when it hit air.

Henry was thankful for small favors. He would’ve hated being bogged down by the syrupy glop, dripping long streamers of mirror-snot all over the place.

There was a wall of white before him, which he quickly realized was a sheet. Pushing it aside, he stepped out from in front of the mirror. He was in an attic, filled with boxes of junk and trunks, and cast-off toys. He only hoped the attic was in Alice’s house. He would’ve hated to have to explain his presence in someone else’s.

“What is this place?”

Henry started at the sound of the familiar voice. Spinning around he came nose-to-nose with Hatter.

“What are you doing here, Hatter?” Henry gave him a shove. “Why did you follow me here?”

“Why not? My only other option was to stay behind and allow the Queen to chop off my head for letting you escape. I simply chose the less painful and, by all accounts, permanent option.” He touched the tip of a rocking chair, and tsked at the dust left on his forefinger. “I ask again… where are we?”

“I think we’re at Alice’s house,” Henry answered absently, his mind running amok with questions. What was he going to do with Hatter here in the real world? What would Alice say when she saw Hatter? Or worse, vice versa? Most of all, why did he feel an overwhelming sense of relief that he hadn’t left Hatter behind?

He motioned for Hatter to follow him. The only way out of the attic was by a staircase that folded up into the ceiling. The only problem was, it wasn’t built to be opened from inside the attic—only from the hallway beneath. He guessed the builders hadn’t counted on anyone magically appearing into the attic by way of an enchanted mirror.

He led Hatter to one of the only two windows in the attic. It was small and round, but big enough for each of them to fit through. Henry unlocked it and pushed it open. There was a large oak tree growing close to Alice’s house, and its spreading limbs were in easy reach of the window. He climbed out of the window onto a small ledge, and jumped onto a broad limb. “Come on, Hatter. It’s easy.”

Hatter peered at the tangle of branches and leaves. “Are you quite certain there are no tree sharks in there?”

“Cross my heart. No sharks. Only a few sparrows, and they won’t hurt you.”

It didn’t take them long to climb down using the oak’s sturdy branches. It was only a short jump from the lowest one to the ground. Henry took Hatter by the hand and walked across a cleanly swept walkway, past a row of neatly trimmed hedges, and up the front-porch stairs to Alice’s door. There was a small, round buzzer next to the door handle, and he pressed it. From within the house, delicate chimes sounded.

They didn’t have long to wait. The door opened to reveal Alice, dressed in a pale blue T-shirt and jeans. Her two-year-old twins, Carol and Louis, clung to her knees. Her smile was sardonic at best when she saw them. “Henry! I didn’t expect you back so soon. And look who the cat dragged in! Or rather, look whom Cat spat out. I’d have a hard time picturing Cat wanting to take you anywhere, Hatter.”

Hatter squinted, then dug in his pocket and removed a pair of glasses. He perched them on the bridge of his nose, and squinted again. “Alice? Can it be? Is that truly you? By all the Gullywhomps in Git, you’re positively ancient. What happened to you? Were you cursed?”

To Henry’s surprise, Alice laughed, and pushed the door open. “Nice to see you too, Hatter. Please, come in.”

Henry followed Hatter inside, wondering at the relationship between his sister and Hatter. He’d thought they hated one another from the way they spoke about each other, yet Alice was laughing, and Hatter didn’t seem too put out, either.