A/N: Sadly, I still do not own rights to most of the characters here, although Casiphia and her parents are mine. The others belong to Lewis Carroll, Tim Burton, and Linda Woolverton.

A QUESTION OF ANSWERS

A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature
is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.

~Charles Dickens

Chapter 1: Kisses and Conundrums

A house full, a hole full,
Yet you cannot gather a bowl full.

Answer: Smoke

Ilosovic Stayne peered around the dimly-lit storeroom, but no one was to be seen. Noting the loft at the back of the room, he climbed its slender ladder high enough to look into the depths, and there he saw a familiar pair of boots, along with the dusty tail of a pale skirt, stretched out along the ground and disappearing into shadows.

"Milady!" he called.

Casiphia backed out of the corner where she had been rummaging and felt one boot connect with something as she did so.

"Oh no! Sweetness! Did I kick you in the head?"

"You did," he said. "But not to worry. I'm used to being kicked around. Don't mind me."

Aghast, Casiphia scrambled to the edge of the loft and cradled Stayne's head against her. "That's exactly why I shouldn't do something like that. I'm the one you should never have to be on guard against."

"Don't worry, love," he grinned. "You'll make it up to me later."

"Oh? You've seen that in the Oraculum, have you?"

"Absolutely. Yes," he replied. "That's it."

They sat with their legs dangling over the edge of the loft, a bit of sun illuminating the room through a dusty skylight. With a twinkling eye, Ilosovic picked a bit of cobweb off Casiphia's nose and showed it to her.

"What? Oh. Thank you," she said absently.

"Nivens told me where to find you," he told her. "I gather you're looking for clues about your parents again."

"Given that I can't get any information from them directly, even after the incident returning from their house, yes, that is precisely what I'm doing," Casiphia said. "I don't why I'm feeling so obsessed about this, but I desperately want to know what possible reason my mother could have for having a gun, and why neither of my parents will tell me anything about it."

Ilosovic suddenly slid a hand behind her head, pulled her to him, and kissed her, hard. When both had regained their breath, he told her, "You realize none of this makes any difference to me, right? I don't think there is underlying violent insanity in your family, and even if there is, I don't care. If any of your worries are on my account, forget them. And know that I will help you in any way I can."

"I know," she said, squeezing his hand. "I trust you not to let anything I find affect how you feel about me. And I could use your help, if only to hold things while I search out what's beneath them."

"And later I'll be glad to do so. For the time being, I came up here—so to speak—to take you to luncheon in the great hall. Although looking at you now, I imagine you'll either want to change clothes first or make it a private meal."

Casiphia looked down ruefully at the smudges and dust that now marred her dress. "Private luncheon, please. There's no use in changing into another frock that will end up looking like this one."

Stayne slid down from the loft and held up his arms to swing Casiphia to the floor below. She squeezed her eyes shut as he did so, unsure whether the little flip her stomach gave was a pleasure or a discomfort.

As they walked down marble corridors, Casiphia's skirts exuding tiny puffs of dust, Ilosovic asked her what luck she'd had thus far.

"Not much," she sighed. "I've found some old clothes, a few portraits, some books and some highly amusing love letters from my father to my mother, but nothing that tells me why she would have ever had a gun. I've been asking the castle staff about old intrigues, but there doesn't seem to be anything there to explain it."

"And no one you've talked to will confess knowing anything?"

"Not at all. Nivens stammered so much when I questioned him I couldn't understand what he was saying, and it was probably excuses as to why he couldn't tell me anyway. Mirana looked sad and turned away from me when I asked her, and the kitchen staff must all be too new because they looked at me blankly and shrugged in a completely believable fashion. The head of stables started whistling and walked away from me sideways—sideways!—and the retired housekeeper gave me a very stern look as though I had no business asking about such things.

"At that point I resolved to find out on my own. I had a burning curiosity to begin with, but now I'm feeling decidedly unsettled and anxious, and I'm not going to be feel at peace until I start solving this mystery."

"Ah, my love," Ilosovic said, halting and pulling her close. "We will find it. I'm certain of that. And whatever it is, it was in the past, and surely it can't affect you now."

"It's just—unnerving to find out your parents aren't the people you thought they were," said Casiphia thoughtfully. "It's like finding your house turned around to face east when you'd gone to bed with it facing west."

"It's still the same sun coming up, whichever direction you're facing," Stayne said.

"True," Casiphia said after a moment. "Ah, let's go fortify me with sandwiches and tea so I can start back again refreshed."

"You are a determined one, aren't you?"

"And you wouldn't have me any other way."

"'Tis true, I can't argue the fact," he said, thinking back on the early days of their courtship.