1. The Man Who Knows
In which Hatter lets his curiosity get the better of him.
Alice of Legend. Really.
"What makes you say that?" Hatter asked.
"She told me she was," Ratty insisted.
"And you believed her?"
"Well…"
"Did she shrink down really small?" Hatter asked. "Or grow big as a house?"
"No."
"Cry a room full of tears?"
"…No?"
"Ah." Clearly, Ratty lacked a classical education.
"But she says her name's Alice," Ratty insisted. Hatter gave him another skeptical look, in case he'd missed the last one.
"And she's an Oyster," Ratty continued. "And… she's got a blue dress on, like in them old pictures."
Well, someone's done their homework, Hatter thought.
"It's her, Hatter! She's looking for somebody!"
Hatter considered him for a moment and sighed. Ratty would fall for anything. Of course, that's why Hatter kept him around — he wasn't smart enough to pull anything.
Apparently someone thought they could con Hatter, though. Everyone was always trying to get something for free.
"Give me a good price for her?" Ratty asked. "She's worth a whole ounce, maybe. Right?"
Hatter made a point to know all the angles, and this was a new one. What do you do with a mythical hero?
"Yeah. Bring her in," he said. "Keep it quiet in the shop, though."
Ratty nodded enthusiastically and ran back out the door.
Whoever this "Alice" turned out to be, she'd be an improvement over Ratty's usual deliveries — the sodden shoes and clothes he took from anyone floating face-down in the City's canals. Unpleasant business, but it kept everyone in the Great Library warm in a way that was impossible to trace.
As a rule, Hatter never paid his scavengers in Tea. He'd lost some business because of that, but it was worth it. Addicts made poor employees. Besides, most of his scavengers were kids, and every time Hatter saw a stick-thin teenager crouched in an alley, staring off into space through a haze of Satisfaction, it made him stick to his stomach.
Bad memories.
He still sold it, of course — Tea was respectable. But the black market? That was profitable. The Queen had banned anything that might dampen or stir up emotions, and she'd outlawed anything from Wonderland's past, its knights and kings. Fortunately for Hatter, many people still had a taste for forbidden things, and they were willing to pay handsomely for them.
The Queen's war and her Teas had wreaked havoc on Wonderland, and the City was still riddled with abandoned warehouses and apartments. It was a paradise for scavengers (and only-slightly-less-than-reputable businessmen). If you had an empty stomach and a good eye, there was plenty of contraband to be found, and Hatter would give you a good price for it.
His off-the-record clients included nobles, mobsters, royal employees, and Resistance members. Most of them knew he played both sides, but they put up with it. Hatter was the best. Whatever you wanted — alcohol, banned books, golden age art, antique weapons — Hatter could get it for you.
The Tea Shop helped, of course. That's why Hatter had vied so hard to get his hands on one. It gave him a legitimate front and somewhere to store the goods — not to mention an endless supply of Wonderland's most valuable commodity.
Hatter liked to think he kept his part of the black market running like a well-oiled machine. The constable ignored any suspicious goings-on thanks to his monthly box of cigars, which Hatter got from a contact at the Casino, who was paid in Tea, which was carefully hidden by Hatter's accountant, as long as she received a regular bottle of bourbon.
The job wasn't without its risks, but it certainly wasn't without its benefits either. Hatter had a nice bit of savings growing, and he got to drink India's finest Darjeeling teas every day. Not only that, but the scavengers got to eat, the Resistance got what they needed, and the Queen was regularly defied by her own employees.
It made Hatter smile just thinking about it.