Chapter Nine: Making Belief (1)
This chapter has THREE parts, each posted separately. LJ informed me that they were too large to be posted in one or even two entries. LJ hates me, I am sure. Grrr.
*~*~*~*
“Access not granted,” the knight intones, barring Alice’s way on the wide, ever-blossoming-tree-lined path with his pearly spear.
For a moment, Alice is too shocked to reply. Yes, the White Queen’s life had been very recently threatened and her crown stolen and her power revoked. Yes, the White Guard had lost a good many of their fellows during the attack. Yes, it makes perfect sense for them to be wary of strangers, which Alice freely admits to being in this time and place...
But, this is perhaps the first time, in all her experience in Underland, that someone has taken sensible action.
It’s rather a shock.
“Not granted?!” Tarrant lisps, gesticulating gracefully with one hand and causing his tattered cuff to flutter in the air.
“Spoon!” Thackery declares, leveling his ladle on the White knight.
From Alice’s shoulder, Mally declares, “I don’ need yahr permission tah set foot in Mamoreal!”
As her future friends and her will-be-husband protest, Alice grits her teeth as a shiver quakes through her. She barely feels it in her hand or up her forearm anymore, but when she does feel it on her upper arm, the sensation strengthens with terrible power. The chill erupts above her elbow and beneath her arm, shoots up to her shoulder, and then plummets down to her chest, where is burns ice-cold and then sinks into her heart... which aches very noticeably.
Yes, she is still dying and she knows she doesn’t have much time left.
“Oh, no. We’ll let you in, Madam Dormouse,” the second guard intones from within his rook-shaped helmet. “It’s only strangers we’ve been told to be wary of. And we don’t recognize you, Stranger,” he concludes, his attention very pointedly directed at Alice.
The first guard concurs, “You could be an assassin sent by the Red Queen!”
Unfortunately, despite her advanced age, Alice has to admit that she looks the part.
“But she’s an Alice!” Mally insists with heartwarming loyalty and obstinacy.
Alice, however, can see that the declaration is not going to do any good. She glances at Uilleam whose eyes are bleary with pain. Oh, botheration! They don’t have time for this nonsense!
“You misunderstand,” she says, interrupting what she is sure will be another denial. Reaching out, Alice collects Tarrant’s hand - which is still held aloft in frozen disbelief - and wraps his rather filthy fingers around her own arm. Shivering with another rolling wave of cold, she grits out, “I’m Hightopp’s prisoner.”
“You are?” the guards ask at the same time Tarrant glances down at his fingers curled around her upper arm and muses, “You are?”
And then he gives himself a brief shake. “Yes, yes!” he declares with such authority that Alice feels her cooling heart swell with pride. “She came from inside the Castle of Crims, you know!”
The guard stutters, “Cr-crims? Er, escaped or...?”
“Mally!” Tarrant hisses and, following a very meaningful twitch of his brows, the dormouse draws the borrowed hatpin she’d stuck in her belt and points it at Alice’s eye.
“We captured ’er!”
“And the very valuable information she knows,” Tarrant concludes with a decisive nod.
“Knows all thar is teh know!” Thackery inserts unexpectedly, googling and shuddering and glaring at the guards.
“Yah goin’tah le’us all in, now?” the spunky mouse challenges.
“We’ll keep aur eyes on th’ auld bessom,” Thackery announces. “Eyes, aye. All ten-an’-two o’em!”
The second guard glances back at his guard-mate, then, hesitantly points out, “Er... there’s only the three of you, with two eyes apiece...”
“Och, tha’ ye can see!” the hare rhymes, panting and twitching. The ladle, interestingly enough, remains steady in his furry grasp.
“Fates of Underland,” the knight grumbles, lowering his spear.
“Exactly!” the hare exclaims, leading the way down the pearly white drive.
Alice stumbles showily along, frowning mightily, playing up her role as well as allowing herself to express the occasional grimace as one shiver and then another rushes up her arm.
“Gray Lady, are you well?” Tarrant murmurs when they four are all beyond earshot of the guards.
“As can be expected,” she temporizes. “Don’t let go of my arm until Mirana tells you to.”
“Mirana o’ Mamoreal,” Mally corrects her sternly, the hatpin most considerately lowered away from her eye. “First yah say we’re off tah th’ queen’s infirmary an’ now yah’er callin’ her by ’er given name!”
“Indeed,” Tarrant muses in a thoughtful tone that Alice knows precedes a moment of his blindingly bright brilliance. “Precisely which is it you mean, Gray Lady?”
Before Alice can fumble for a reply, Thackery interjects, “Ask th’ Fates yerself if’n ye’re keen teh know! Oracles teh introduce!”
“Right you are, Thack,” Tarrant admits - perhaps reluctantly - a moment later. “We do have other priorities at the moment.”
“I think you’re enjoying this just a bit too much,” Alice redirects him. “You’re lucky the guards never asked why your prisoner is wearing a sword.”
“You’d hardly be much of a suspicious person if you weren’t,” he replies.
She rolls her eyes. Apparently, his Un-logic is an indefatigable aspect of his character.
Seeing the future White Queen of Underland is as simple as stumbling up the stairs, into the main hall, and delivering a bossy demand (this from Mallymkun) to see the once-was monarch. Uilleam is carried off to the infirmary by a pair of frog footmen and the throne room doors are swung open by Algernon and... It all happens so fast that, thankfully, only four additional shivers make her tremble in her will-be-husband’s grasp.
“Release her, Hatta,” Mirana says, smiling gently upon seeing them. “She is our guest here...”
“I’m afraid not. I am merely a messenger,” Alice differs gently as Tarrant’s warm hand slides away from her cloth-covered arm. She despairs for the loss of his touch as she weeps in silence for her son whose own existence now hangs in the balance of all she does here and now. Suddenly, the chill takes on new significance for her as she draws nearer to the conclusion of her appointed task. Has she done enough to ensure that the Underland she knows will be waiting there when she returns? Or has she done too much?
Terrifying as these thoughts are, there is no way for Alice to know for sure one way or another.
It is a cruel moment to be in. She wracks her brain for as many 24-year-old memories as she can... and hopes...
“A messenger. Hm... yes,” Mirana muses, her dark gaze examining Alice from the windblown wisps of gray hair on her head to the toes of her scuffed, leather boots. “Hatta... Dormouse, Hare... will you please excuse us? I sense there is something our... reluctant guest needs to say to me in private.”
“Gray Lady?” Mally squeaks before anyone else can protest.
“She’s right,” Alice concurs. “I will see you three again later.”
Looking rather unsure, Tarrant hesitates to go.
“I promise,” she adds. “And you know what a promise is worth.”
“I do,” he lisps and finally does as his preferred sovereign had bid him.
She watches her friends go, stands alone while the dormouse, hare, and the man who will father her child leave the room, wishing she could follow them, but knowing that she cannot. This is her task to complete. Just as what is coming will be theirs. Thus, the sound of the heavy doors closing behind them, echoing in the great, cavernous hall, is not a comfort to her. Hoping that she is doing the Right Thing, Alice takes a steadying breath and says to her hostess, “The Fates of Underland have sent me.”
The had-been and will-be-again queen smiles softly. “Yes. I know. They said they would send help.”
“You Courted them?” Alice muses, remembering the conversation on the edge of the croquet pitch so long ago.
“What else could I do after... what happened?”
The woman is clearly referring to the attack on Iplam Village, and is also clearly still mourning for those lost, so Alice does not badger her for a confirmation. “What else, indeed. And they have sent me.”
“Alice...” Mirana surmises. “Yes, they have sent you, Alice. You are the one who will save us.”
For a moment, she can do nothing but blink at the observation. “I... I’m sorry, no. I’m afraid I am not the right Alice for that task.”
“But... Fate... She assured me...”
“You are waiting for another Alice,” Alice hears herself say, biting back the twinge of curiosity that would have made her ask: She? The Sheep? Or is Fate completely different for you? Yes, it's a head-spinning thought to contemplate that each and every individual in Underland has their own, personal Fate (although that makes a great deal of sense!) or perhaps it is the petitioner who makes Fate appear as it does?
As a shiver screams across her shoulder and down to her heart, Alice gives herself a brief shake. As she had told Mallymkun not so long ago, wasting time on semantics will hardly do anyone any good now.
“You are waiting for Alice, but the Right One. Here. I will show you.” With that, Alice removes the Oraculum from within her jerkin and unrolls it. The destruction of Hightopp Village makes her pause, for it is here, just as she’d suspected it would be. And it breaks her heart that the Duchess had allowed it to occur, all for the sake of securing her own position in the Red Queen’s Court. And it nearly brings her to her knees at the thought of Chessur’s blatant lack of assistance, of warning, of caring...
But, then again, perhaps she is judging Chessur too harshly. Perhaps, even had he looked, even had he acted, nothing could have been done. The Oraculum has been known to change, after all. And it has been known to show only that which must be seen in order for Underland to continue to exist as the Fates decree it to.
Alice gently unrolls the parchment and more events scroll past:
The delivery of the Oraculum, at the hands of an old, gray woman, to Mamoreal and Absolem.
The construction of a new prison in Salazen Grum, one that is horrible and dark and not made from edibles.
The enslavement of so many creatures.
The Bandersnatch being directed by Stayne to do the Red Queen’s bidding.
The morning beheadings... including that of a certain duchess and her cook.
So many dark, dark things are recorded in the coming days, and yet there is light. Tarrant is there, leading the Resistance against the Red Queen, marshaling rebels and foiling the Knave’s plans in secret. Mally is also there with him, standing proudly with a hatpin sword in her belt and not a sleepy yawn in sight.
And then Alice, The Alice, arrives.
“Here,” Alice shows the will-be White Queen. “The right Alice will come. On Griblig. And on Frabjous...”
“Yes, I see,” the future queen muses. “She will be my Champion.”
“She will protest,” Alice feels compelled to warn her. “But yes, eventually, she will. Once she sees this.” Alice indicates the Oraculum. “Once she understands...”
“Then I shall be patient.” Mirana smiles and relaxes. “Thank the Fates... and thank you, Gray Lady with the Impossible Scar.”
Alice twitches, raising her hand to her own throat before she can stop herself. “Not impossible, Your Majesty.”
“Isn’t it? I may not know much about Uplander physiology, but that is a mortal wound. Had it been left untreated for the length of time necessary to make that scar, surely you would have died. If not from the loss of blood, then from its inflicter’s Intent.”
The practiced gaze of a healer studies Alice very thoroughly and she must command herself to hold still and firm.
“Therefore you must have been healed quickly, which would have removed the Intent... and yet the scar remains.”
Again the White woman pauses. Alice waits, thinks, plots, says, “Perhaps I received this scar Above. Things are different there.”
“Did you?”
Even now, Alice cannot bring herself to lie to the woman who will claim the throne for which Alice will risk her life to keep secure. Mirana notices this and nods.
“There is only one conclusion to be had.”
“You must not share it with anyone. Please,” Alice says into the expectant silence.
Mirana’s hands lower a bit as the solemnity of her tone seems to weigh on both of them. “Ah... of course not, for it is too late to undo, is it not?”
Relieved, Alice merely nods. Perhaps it is not too late to undo the future, but Alice is too fearful of losing it to allow the risk: Tarrant must never suspect that she is, in fact, his Alice, not until she asks him to help her die, not until she shows him how he must kill her. In truth, she fears she has already left too strong an impression with him and frets that she has changed the future already: her husband had never mentioned an old widow who had mentored him in the wake of Horvendush Day. But surely he would now, wouldn’t he? His rush to “rescue” her seems to indicated that she matters to him, so wouldn’t that mean that he will miss her? Speak of her? Worry about her when she is gone?
But what is there to be done about all that now?
And then, thankfully, a very distracting, steely gleam enters Mirana’s dark eyes. “Oh! We have much to prepare! First, of course you must deliver this to Absolem, as has been foretold.” She indicates the Oraculum with an airy gesture. “I will have him brought here.”
“Was Nivens successful...?”
“Oh, yes!” Mirana assures her. “They arrived three days ago.”
“Botheration. I’m sure he’s in a mood.”
“Rather,” Mirana admits, her eyes narrowing with what Alice knows is curiosity and speculation. “Nivens will have to be sent up to London... for I believe that is where Alices are from, are they not?”
“This one is,” Alice allows, entirely truthfully.
“Hm, yes. And then we shall have to see about some armor for our Champion...”
With a shiver-aided start, Alice realizes that the armor she had donned on Frabjous Day had, indeed, been ready for her when she had arrived at Mamoreal. In fact, it had been waiting for her. And, once she had been her proper size again, it had fit her perfectly.
Mind racing, Alice realizes it had fit her perfectly because...
“Use my measurements,” she says to her will-be friend. “We Alices are of similar size. It will fit her.”
Mirana nods. “Which is why it was you the Fates chose to send. Yes, I see now.”
So does Alice. So much more than she had ever thought possible.
*~*~*~*
Notes:
1. At the beginning of the chapter, Thackery’s comment about keeping their eyes on Alice - “all ten-and-two of them” - refers to the eyes of himself, Mally, Tarrant, and each of the three Fates that Alice met in the Hallowed Halls of Time. Again hinting that Thackery has a certain access to Fate that no one else in Underland does. Thackery can hear them, can sense their intentions. Because the Fates are Timeless, the message is a bit garbled as Thackery gets bits from the past, present, and future. It is rare that anyone can converse with or hear the Fates without Courting them in this ’verse and it is Thackery’s special “gift”... and the source of his “madness”. It’s arguable that Tarrant does receive a message from the Fates in OPK Book 2. After the Hatter inexplicably passes out then comes around again in Chapter Three: The Sixteenth Day, Thackery encourages Tarrant to make a rhyme and Tarrant produces: “Spring waxes and Iplam waves, a silver flower her hand displays.” This foreshadows Chapter Sixteen, of course. But it tickled me to think that in that moment of confusion, Tarrant could sense a slice of the future, perhaps given to him by the Fates. Does that make sense? Who knows. I think it’s cool, though.
2. So it is Mirana who deduces where Alice can be found (in London). Unfortunately, since she doesn’t know the precise address (and Alice doesn’t volunteer it and risk making Mirana even more suspicious of her) McTwisp ends up chasing “one wrong Alice after another” (which he complains about in the film).
3. Alice’s scar: Why does Alice have scars on her hands from killing Stayne? Well, because even though she received treatment right away, it wasn’t proper treatment for wounds of those sort. Also... I kind of think that Alice wanted to keep those scars, subconsciously. So, the scar on Alice’s neck is impossible because an improper cure wouldn’t have saved her life, but a proper cure would have healed the scar completely. The only possible conclusion is that Alice wanted that injury in the first place... Hence its "impossibility".
4. Was anyone else struck by Mirana’s comment in the movie: “You’re a little taller than I thought you’d be...” Yes, that could be explained by saying that McTwisp reported Alice’s size when he found her, but... I kinda like the idea of Alice modeling for her own armor. (^__^)