Mad About the Hatter (24 page)

Henry juggled the items Hatter had handed him as he leaned in to see what the paper was. It was a map.

“I always knew this would come in handy.” Hatter pointed to an arrow on the map, which boasted large white letters that read, “You Are Here.” “We just need to follow this map to get through the maze.”

“What if we aren’t here, where the arrow is pointing?” Henry asked, tapping the spot on the map with his finger. “What if we’re somewhere else?”

“Nonsense. Think about it. No matter
where
we were, we’d be
there
, which of course would make it
here
for us, now wouldn’t it?” Hatter clucked his tongue. “Really, Henry, I’d have thought you’d understand Wonderland a bit better by now.”

He was right, of course. Henry should’ve known better than to ask. It was much easier in Wonderland to just go with the flow and not examine things too closely. In fact, now that he thought about it, he thought that might be what made all magic work—you had to
believe
the magician was really pulling a rabbit out of an empty hat. Without belief, it was just a crazy guy with a top hat and a pet bunny.

Was that what made Ruin a reality? People believing that someone needed to live in Ruin so others could enjoy more? If it was, he didn’t think it was right. It sounded like something the Red Queen might’ve come up with, a plan that wasn’t a plan at all but another way to punish people and keep them under her heel. What about the people in Ruin? Why did they stay? Did they believe it too?

He filed the questions away to ponder on sometime later, and turned his attention to the maze itself. His gaze wandered up the leafy sides, and he saw sharp thorns studding the soaring green walls of thick shrubbery. It reminded Henry greatly of the caterpillar’s lair. Perhaps the seeds from the caterpillar’s hedge had sowed the ones forming the maze, or vice versa. In either case, there was no chance of him burrowing a shortcut through the walls without skewering himself.

He realized the group was already marching through, and hurried to catch up to Hatter. The twists and turns inside the maze as Hatter boldly led them through it, following the course marked on the map, soon had Henry’s head spinning. He tried to keep track, but quickly became so lost he had no idea where he was or how to retrace his steps if need be. Trusting in Hatter’s map to see them through was all he could do, and he hoped his belief was strong enough, and that his faith wasn’t misplaced, especially when he spied a dusty, gray skull sitting atop a roughly man-shaped pile of bones in a corner of the maze.

Not everyone who went into the maze, evidently, got out again. He had to wonder how many others met their deaths wandering the narrow corridors of verdant green, and said a silent prayer he wouldn’t be among them.

His fear proved to be needless soon enough as, after rounding yet another corner in a seemingly never-ending line of zigs and zags, he a saw an arch carved into the center of a tall green wall. Beyond it, all he could see was blessedly wide, flat landscape.

They filed out of the maze, and all of them breathed a sigh of relief, even Hatter, who later confided to Henry he hadn’t been as confident in his map as he professed to be. “The map, after all,” Hatter explained, “was drawn by an elf that was far less than trustworthy than most people and far more inebriated than some. For all I knew, it might’ve not been a map to the maze at all, but one detailing the inner ear canal of a hippopotamus.”

Henry was very glad Hatter’s confession came
after
they’d left the maze.

Leonard stepped past them and smiled. “I always loved this part of the garden. A rousing game of chess was just the thing I needed on days when my wife busied herself making my life miserable.”

Henry looked down at the giant, alternating red and white squares painted on the grass, then around at the life-sized chess pieces that stood in two stately lines on each side of the board. Each piece was a topiary—a bush, carefully trimmed and snipped into shapes—the Kings and Queens, the Bishops, the Knights on their Horses, the Rooks, and the Pawns. All sat in absolute stillness, with no hint of life about them. They all looked so massive and heavy, the shortest Pawn standing far taller than Henry did, that he wondered how anyone could maneuver them across the field-sized chessboard. He decided to ask, then immediately gave himself a mental kick to the head as soon as the words passed his lips, since he really should have known better. The answer was the same as he always received when he asked ridiculous questions, but by then it was too late. He could no more pull the words back into his mouth than rescind a fart once let loose.

“How else?” Hatter replied with a shrug. “Magic.”

“Of course. How stupid of me.” Henry sighed, plucked a leaf from a Knight topiary, and held it up before his eyes, examining it. It looked like an ordinary leaf, green and shaped like an arrowhead. It smelled green too, or
would
smell like green, he imagined, if colors had odors. Green would smell like this, like a warm, lazy, summer day.

This particular leaf was identical to any one of a million leaves he’d seen on trees in his own world, completely unremarkable, except he truly believed this one was imbued with some sort of mystical, unknowable magic that would allow it to move when a player gave it an order. Why shouldn’t he believe it? It was no stranger than anything else he’d seen in Wonderland. “Knight to F3,” he mumbled, tossing the leaf aside.

There was a rumble under his feet reminiscent of a slight earthquake, and a rustling sounded in the air as if a strong wind were blowing through trees. Then the Knight topiary beside him lurched forward. The Knight’s horse leapt into the air, the horse’s hooves trailing long, scraggly roots, sailing over the head of a pawn and landed exactly where Henry told it to, on the F3 square of the board.

“Henry!” Leonard clucked his tongue. “Really, we’ve no time to play games. Now, put the Knight back, and let’s get moving.”

Henry gaped at the Knight for a moment—which looked stoically ahead, unmoving, as if made of stone instead of shrubbery—and then grinned.
Belief it is
, he concluded
. I believed the piece would move and it did! That’s the secret to Wonderland. Believing.
It’s what fuels magic.
He felt very satisfied with himself, and smug, as if he’d discovered a great secret.

Perhaps he had. He certainly felt more comfortable in Wonderland now that he believed than he had before, when he’d spent all his time questioning and doubting everything around him. His smile was still on his face when he passed the Knight and said, “Knight to G1.” He barely even noticed the Knight leaping back over the same Pawn to its original square, as if giant hopping topiaries were as common as houseflies.

There really was no more time to ruminate on magic, or belief, on the nature of Ruin, or any one of a number of other questions rumbling around in Henry’s mind after his newfound discovery clicked into place. The entire group, Hatter, Leonard, Henry, and the Red Guards, had all come to a complete standstill once they’d passed the far side of the chessboard.

Before them was a long swatch of lawn, not especially wide, but quite lush and studded with croquet wickets. At the far end, a flock of bright pink flamingos lounged, each bird resting comfortably on long, spindly black legs. Their lengthy, graceful necks curled over their backs, with their heads tucked neatly under their wings.

A slight noise woke them, and they looked up as Henry, Hatter, Leonard, and the guards approached, but quickly went back to their naps when it became apparent no one favored a game of croquet.

Hatter pulled away from the group and ran to a nearby planting of shrubs. Henry frowned as he watched Hatter drop to his knees and begin rooting among the roots under the bushes.

“Yes! I’ve found you!” Hatter stood up, cradling something long and thin in his arms. “I thought you were lost forever!”

Henry saw a shiny blue orb glint on one end of the item. “What is it, Hatter?”

“My cane!” Hatter grinned and held it up. It was carved from a dark, oily wood, and topped with a sparkling blue diamond as big as Henry’s fist.

“Well… good. I’m glad.” Henry blinked.

“Indeed!” Hatter seemed to be in a much more buoyant mood. He strutted back to Henry, and hefted the cane like a drum major leading a parade. “Onward!”

Just on the other side of the croquet lawn, the open courtyard area ended. In the castle’s red wall, they spotted another door.

Henry tapped Hatter’s arm. “Where does this door lead to? Another dungeon? The kitchen?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Hatter reached for Henry’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “This is it, Henry. The end of our journey. Beyond that door is a hallway that leads to the throne room.”

Henry hadn’t thought he’d be especially frightened or nervous when they reached their ultimate destination, not when they’d been walking such a long road with so many dangerous diversions, they made his head spin. Now that they’d arrived at the Red Castle and their quarry waited within, he felt his heartbeat speed up and a cold sweat dampen his forehead. This was it! Another moment or two and he’d be face-to-face with the Red Queen. After hearing all the stories about her, in his mind he was convinced she was the most sinister, despicable, dangerous creature ever to draw breath, and their imminent meeting in the flesh had him weak in the knees. The Red Queen was a woman who sentenced people to die as easily as others swatted bothersome flies. Would he be able to make a stand against her with Hatter and Leonard, or would he disgrace himself by running away?

L
EONARD
SIGNALED
one of the Red Guards to open and hold the door so he and the rest of the party could enter the castle proper. It was dimmer inside than the sunny, open courtyard, although many burning candles set in wall sconces cast the hallway with adequate light. Even so, they could barely make out the shapes of two huge men standing in front of them as their eyes adjusted.

Two immense Red Guards blocked their way, their swords drawn. “Halt! Who goes there?”

“Who goes where?” Hatter asked. “There or here? We’re all quite here, but the two of you are there. You really must be more specific.”

The guards looked at one another. “Uh, there. Right there.” He pointed his sword at Hatter’s feet.

“Right here?” Hatter asked, and pointed to the same spot. “That’s not there. That’s here. Are you purposely trying to confuse us?”

The first Red Guard thought it over. Watching him try to make sense of it was positively painful. Finally, he seemed to come up with a solution. “All right, then, who goes
here?
Is that better?”

Hatter shrugged. “If by ‘here’ you mean over there where you are, then no. Conversely, if by ‘here’ you mean over here where we are, then yes, it is better. To answer your question, we go here.”

“Who
are
you?” the Red Guard sputtered. He seemed well past confused and halfway to bewildered, and kept turning to the second Red Guard for help. The second didn’t seem to understand what Hatter was talking about either, so was of absolutely no value to the first.

“I’m afraid ‘Who’ isn’t my name. In fact, I don’t know anyone named ‘Who.’” Hatter turned to Henry. “Do you know anyone named Who?” He turned back to the guard. “There’s no Who here.”

“Oh, Hatter, do desist in confusing my guards.” Leonard chuckled as he pushed past Hatter and stood in front of the two guards. “It is I, the Red King.”

Perhaps the two guards were loyal to Leonard, or else they were just so relieved not to have to try to figure out Hatter’s double-talk anymore that they dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. “Sire! We thought you dead!”

“Yes, that seems to be a popular misconception. I’m not, as you can see. Not even a little bit. Never have been.” Leonard motioned for them to rise. “I’m here to dethrone my wife.”

The two guards let out a horrified gasp in perfect, two-part harmony. “Are you sure, Your Majesty? You seem to be doing so well with not being dead, and still having your head attached to your shoulders and all. It’d be a shame for you to turn toes up now.”

Leonard shook his head. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve made up my mind. The Red Queen’s reign of terror must end. Come along, now. Fall in behind the others.” He gestured toward the guards who’d been with them since the White Castle.

The two new guards looked at their fellows, then at each other. “Is that an order, sire?”

Leonard folded his arms across his chest. “Yes. It’s an order.”

They seemed disinclined to believe Leonard was commanding them, or, more likely, hoped it wasn’t the case. “Is that an official order, sire, or is it more like a request?”

Leonard scowled at the guard. “It’s an official order. A command.” He sighed and rolled his eyes when the guard still hesitated. “Do it
now.”

“Yes, sire.” Neither of the guards seemed particularly enthusiastic about joining Leonard’s party, but they eventually did as Leonard instructed, taking up spots at the rear. Maybe they remembered to whom they owed their loyalty, or perhaps they simply consoled themselves with the fact that Leonard, Hatter, Henry, and the other Guards formed a nice, thick, fleshy barrier between them and the wrath of the Red Queen.

Henry leaned over and whispered to Hatter. “Um, do you have any sort of weapon in your pocket? I feel a little useless here. I think I’d feel better if I had something to defend us with when we go into the throne room.”

“Hmm. Weapons, eh?” Hatter stuck his arm into his pocket up to the elbow, rummaging around. “I hadn’t thought of weapons before. I’m not sure what I have…. Ah, yes! Here you are. Not the most efficient weapon, I suppose, but it will do in a pinch.” He pulled out his umbrella and offered it to Henry.

“Hatter, this is an umbrella. The only thing it’ll be good for is if I get attacked by a sudden rain shower.”