Title: Wild Cards & Gambits
Summary: A year after the events of Tea And Chess, Wonderland City has settled into a relatively peaceful existence. Living in Wonderland is never easy though and Alice and her friends are plunged back into adventure when the past begins to creep into Wonderland once again.
Rating: R-M (depends on the ch. really and the mood I'm in.). Rated for language, sex, violence...the norm.
Author's Note: Snow days and work = cabin fever. Not to mention an absence my internet connection at crucial points. irritating. Thanks for the reviews, guys. Hopefully once holidays and the busy season is over this will be more consistent in the chapter posting :-P
Chapter Eleven: Drawing Dead
The Council had been in full-swing long before Amelia had entered the massive Center Hall of the Heart Palace. She had barely crossed the threshold and already she knew who were the ones about to cause her grief. That was typical of the Wonderland royalty; the chances of any of them agreeing to any course of action was slim to none. The Spades, her own distant relations, were arguing fiercely with the Diamonds, while the Clubs were sitting on their side of the table not saying a thing. They were neutral by nature and neutral they'd likely remain no matter what was said. Yet, strangely, was a smugness to their expressions that Amelia could see even at a distance and she narrowed her eyes in thought. The Clubs had always been trustworthy but maybe, just maybe, they were too trustworthy at the moment.
It is a sad world, she thought, when I can no longer trust anyone who used to serve the Hearts so loyally.
She had called the Council to discuss the current state of Wonderland and how to proceed after such tragedies and she knew that politics demanded it of her. She had been well educated and knew her duty yet that did not make it any easier. While at present she felt that she should be standing on the ferry docks to see if Jack was coming home or waiting in her rooms to mourn her son, she knew that she had to act differently. Even in the face of such hardship, she was the Queen of Wonderland after all and that role was almost as important as being a mother. The only other option was to turn over total rule to the Council itself, which would be a potentially dangerous path to take. She knew the risks and knew she couldn't think to take them, no matter how much pressure the Council would put on her. Raised in politics as she was and well used to hardship, the former Duchess was not about to be frightened by a Council of old bluebloods.
Nodding to one of her bodyguards, she quickly adjusted the bracelets on her arms and made certain that her form-fitting gold dress was smooth on her long limbs. It had been a chore to dress herself as it befit her station but she did so with great care and with a glance at the mirrored walls, she knew that she at least looked ready to handle these people.
Her guard cleared his throat noisily and banged hard on the massive wood door they stood next to. The Council jointly turned their eyes towards Amelia and her guards. As one, they stood in their place and inclined their heads respectfully. Yet, as Amelia strode down one side of the room to the dais, she could see the faint sneer on some of the elders' face. This was nothing unusual; these were the very ones that had chafed at Jack's rule ever since his coronation.
Which was why they were also the ones most closely watched by her spies.
Without speaking, she took her seat and gestured with her hand for the rest of them to sit. They almost all did so; some of them jutting their heads forward and looking ready to tear into her while others were respectful enough not to meet her steely gaze. One of the eldest Diamonds, a portly man named Abelard, had remained standing. "Your Majesty," he began, his eloquent voice showing his years as a politician, "We had just begun talks about the latest events. This is the first Council called after the unfortunate events revolving around the Prince and the Looking Glass."
The Council turned their chairs towards their Queen, the loud scraping filling the cavernous room. Amelia was well aware that everyone on the twenty-member Council was staring at her intently now at the mention of her son. Each was waiting to see her reaction, rather like wolves waiting for a sign of weakness in their prey, and there was no real pity on any of their faces. Just sickeningly indulgent expressions that gave the impression they were ready for her to break down in tears. Amelia schooled her features into an inscrutable mask and leaned back on the low-backed chair. With little effort she put forth the persona of a languid and entitled Royal.
Only those that had taken the time to get to know her better knew that there was something deeper and far more calculating happening in her mind.
"Thank you all for coming and for waiting for me before starting the meeting itself," Amelia said, mixing in her graciousness with a cold rebuke. They all looked back and forth between one another, her slight segue startling them. Tugging on his puffy grey beard, Abelard cleared his throat noisily to draw attention.
"We hadn't been certain that you would arrive, Majesty. The Council is more than capable of handling the affairs of Wonderland. The recent events would have warranted for you to be with his Majesty, unless you had a reason why…"
"My husband believes me most capable of handling his affairs and trusts my decisions," she snapped and tipped her head on the side. Her eyes held just a glimmer of anger. "You all seem rather eager to discuss matters concerning my son and husband when they are not here. Or when I am not here. I wonder why."
"You realise that suspicions will grow further the longer your poor son is missing. This was all too planned for there not to be some sort of grand scheme. First your son, then the Looking Glass... all around the anniversaries and festivals. There must be a plan of some great devastation," said a Spade. Amelia leaned forward slightly and recognized a cousin of hers; she was likely one that had been ordered to fray the Queen's nerves.
"I have no doubt. But if Wonderland itself stops... if we panic... if the people panic, then all of our hard work at re-establishing a trustworthy and beneficial monarchy will be gone. We will be back to the time of Mary Elizabeth, Jack's mother, and we do not want to return to that time. The people hated the monarchy and the noble houses, and rightfully so. I'm sure you will all agree that we must keep level heads about this and not jump to conclusions." Amelia leaned back and looked from left to right, her eyes pinpointing those that were looking more than just a touch uncomfortable. Something had been going on, she knew that, and knowing this Council it would affect all of Wonderland. North and South combined.
It was Abelard who spoke, not bothered by her rebukes. He had been around for years and he was hard to intimidate. "There needs to be an emergency signing of the Succession." Abelard's words felt like ice going up her spine and she turned her attention to him. "To declare proper heirs in case of further tragedy. With the Prince Heir gone and the King…"
"My son is not dead, Abelard. I warn you that if you insist on inferring that he is, I will petition His Majesty to bring back beheading as punishment," Amelia threatened and he sat down with a heavy plunk. The old threat still had considerable weight in the ranks of the nobles. "Jack is more than capable of finding our son and judging by the trails left by the kidnappers, we will have them in a matter of days provided no more obstacles arise."
A lie, Amelia knew, for Jack had sent her messages about the cold trails and empty leads. Between the lines she had read his despair and hopelessness and had felt it as strongly as he. A lie to say that Jack was closing in on the trial yet it served its purpose. It was very interesting to watch as some of the Council immediately looked down to the table and then up again at one another.
Abelard sighed loudly, tugging on his beard again to show his irritation at having been thwarted on that discussion. "Then perhaps we should discuss the destruction of the Looking Glass." Abelard sent a file folder skittering across the table to her and Amelia caught it up calmly. "Our teams have come up empty-handed as to the identity of the culprits. Most are still in the field, and we have one team of spies currently on reconnaissance in the South. I also feel the need to mention that our chief suspects have gone missing. The Hatter and Alice Hamilton were last seen at the Train Station and our usual sources are saying nothing. They have clearly been paid to keep silent and paid well."
He was baiting her, she knew, and Amelia said nothing. She simply opened the folder and looked at the strange charts of jagged lines and lop-sided circles printed out. Her eyes went back up to him and she raised an eyebrow in question.
Abelard clearly thought it best to move on. Half the Council did not really think that the Hatter nor Alice would have much to do with the explosions. It was a subject he would never win on and not one he could manipulate the Queen over, no matter her possible interference. "You are looking at reports one of my men were sent an hour ago. Several Technicians have been recording strange activity in Wonderland ever since the Looking Glass was destroyed. There have been several large tremors; one caved-in a portion of the Teardrop Mines in the East. There have also been some terrible storms in the West and formerly calm creatures have been found to attack Wonderlanders. We had our first death by borogroves in over two hundred years: a citizen near the Eastern Quay was mauled to death. Now the South has reported that the 'earth shook'."
"And all this because of one explosion? You are suggesting that The Looking Glass was responsible for the weather? An idea of sheer folly," a Club, Lord Beyron, scoffed pompously and several of his family nodded. The Clubs were not about to be swayed by mysticism.
"Have we sent out aid to those in need?" Amelia asked, pressing her hand to her forehead. She was willing to believe that something like the destruction of a conduit would bring on Wonderland's weather changing. She had seen enough magic in her life to know it was very possible but that did not make it seem less incredible. Or terrifying.
"We have deployed resources to help with the Mines and with handling the wildlife. None to to the South yet. They have always been independent of us, no matter the monarch." Abelard seemed to shove his own train of thought aside and he leaned on the table. He had been waiting to raise his point about the South and here was an opportunity. "Due to the explosions and troubles, we have more pressing matters. Even though the South as been affected by the tremors, there is many signs pointing towards them blowing up the Looking Glass. There is a possibility that something has been planned there to take control of all Wonderland."
Amelia put her hand back to her lap and sent him a dumbfounded look. Not at his claim but at his audacity in doing so, especially when they had people from the South in their own Council. Darold, ambassador for the South, was a dark haired young man who had gone red at Abelard's accusations. He cleared his throat and stood as well.
"You cannot be serious! We have always been loyal to the Monarchy, no matter who was in rule. We look to the City to help us keep control of the South." He was clearly furious by the way his brow furrowed and his face kept flushing a brighter red.
"And we are not saying otherwise," Abelard said silkily. "But merely that there is the possibility that someone in the South…"
"Or someone from the City planning to incriminate the South. The South's resources have always been out of reach of some of the Noble Cards," Darold ground out between clenched teeth. There was no doubting his implication and Abelard's supporters rose to their feet immediately. The shouting began, the Council splitting exactly down the middle as to who they sided with and no one making much sense. It was like watching a group of schoolchildren scream about losing their favourite toys, Amelia thought to herself. Taking in deep breath, she let it out slowly and counted in her head.
The counting did her temper no good and when she finally had enough she slammed her palm down on the table with a crack. It sent a flash of pain up her arm and she bit back the urge to cry out. Everyone jumped and stared at her, stunned by the sound. Ignoring the throbbing sensation in her hand, she glared at them all and leaned forward slightly.
"That is quite enough." She sniffed and tossed her head proudly. "Some good the lot of you are, squabbling like children and not like the dignified politicians you are supposed to be!"
Her scolding, the sort she might have used on her own child, worked and the entire Council took their seats once more. Several looked at the table but those that managed to look at her had ill-concealed dislike showing in their expressions. One by one, Amelia met their gazes coolly and arched a brow, unwilling to be intimidated. It have her a faint satisfaction to watch as one by one they all looked away, unable to hold her gaze.
"This is not a question of loyalties nor is this the time for anyone to incite a Civil War, am I understood?" Amelia posed it as a question but there was no doubting the command in her voice. The Spades still looked smug - as if her rebuke did not apply to them by some special privilege of their blood relation. She glared at them as well but they were not as cowed by her as the others had been. It would take too much energy to properly discipline them and Amelia did not have the desire to cause further rifts in the Council.
"With the forces so divided in Wonderland City, what is being done for security on the whole?" Amelia asked, an unexpected weariness suddenly flooding her. Though she knew that she was to keep up appearances, for the sake of her husband at least, she couldn't help but long to go back to her rooms and away from this all.
"The Lake Prison forces are still in full. The rest of your guards and soldiers are rather… divided." It was one of the Clubs who mentioned this, reading from a folder. "A substantial amount went with the King, for protection of course. Several groups have gone to provide relieve to several outposts for us. It leaves us understaffed, my Lady."
Amelia rested her chin on a hand. "That...is not good news."
"It is our suggestion that the planned celebrations and festivals be pushed to a later date," Abelard said formally and Amelia nodded.
"Of course. The City will be in no state to hold such things."
Abelard handed his assistant a folder and leaned further forward. "The Diamonds believe that the formal declaration as to the kidnap of the heir would be advisable."
"So that we could have mass panic?" Darold commented dryly from where he was still glaring at the Diamond.
"Supporters of the old Queen are still about, though not in great number. If Jack Heart is without an heir, we run the risk of another attempted coup," Beyron thought aloud. His dark eyes were on Amelia's face. "Not to say that the populace doesn't realise what has happened, but if we show panic, then this could spiral out of control."
Amelia thought it over, her brain trying to ignore the niggling doubt that they were going about this the wrong way.
"Though who is to say a coup is not being attempted as we speak?" Amelia blurted out without thinking and almost immediately the entire Council erupted into furious action. Those who thought she meant them screamed at those who thought that she was being too paranoid, while there was no one who actually denied her accusation. Her thoughtless words had clearly touched a raw nerve and Amelia watched as they continued to shout over one another again. The accusations flew through the air and she wondered, just wondered, who were the real traitors to the Throne here.
She had a very good idea even without her spies' reports.
The heated arguments continued and Amelia was on the verge of ordering them silent when she suddenly noticed a small page standing beside her chair. He was a young boy from one of the minor families, a heart-shaped insignia on his cheek and sewn into his white attire to show his loyalties. He must have slipped in when the Council had started to shout and it was clear that it frightened him. The page was staring at her with wide brown eyes, his lips pursed while in his hand he held a thin sheet of paper that quivered as much as his lips did. Amelia frowned at him and turned in her seat. She hadn't requested any papers.
"What is it, page?" Amelia asked, not bothering to raise her voice. The Council was so focussed on yelling at one another that there was no point in trying to get their attention. A child was better company at the moment.
"Majesty," the boy began and then stalled, still trembling. Amelia laid a hand on his arm and smiled thinly at him.
"Just breathe, boy. You're new here?" At his nod, she inclined her head toward the Council. "Please ignore them for now. They are like children."
That earned her a nervous smile and the page took a deep breath. "My Queen, the King..."
"Has sent word?" she asked, turning eagerly. Catching her question, the entire Council quieted and suddenly the attention of the nobles focussed on the page. His nervousness seemed to increase and his eyes darted from the group to his feet again.
"Mistress, the King... he... he is..." He took a deep breath and then finally looked her in the eye. Amelia read the pity in his eyes and felt a growing horror gather in her mind.
"No," she whispered so lowly that no one heard her. The page looked away from her to stare at his feet again. Even with his chin pressed towards his chest the page's words were clear,
"The King is dead."
In the South Swamps
"The King is dead."
The loud voice above her sounded terrified, the sudden shout completely disrupting the silence. Carol opened her eyes and groaned, rubbing at them to try to get rid of that crusty feeling from her drugged induced sleep. After a moment she was managed to lift her heavy head from the floorboard. It took her a moment to remember where she was and a moment longer to keep her instinctive panic under control. It had been hours since they had been moved from the train to this strange bus-like vehicle but she was only now getting used to the feel of it.
The dual level bus was chugging along slowly and Carol could feel every bump and tug on the vehicle's wheels. They had left the train quickly, forced to go along with the orders of their kidnappers by threatening electric prods and guns. Even then she had tried to fight but for her trouble she had been injected with a tranquilizer and tossed roughly into the bottom cabin of the bus, Charlie right behind her. The drugs had gone through her system quickly and she had slipped in and out of consciousness without any clear sense of time. Each time she had come awake she would simply start to drift back asleep, too weary to keep her eyes open, and then a loud bump or a shout would wake her again.
She hadn't had this fitful a sleep since Alice had been a baby.
Carol rubbed at her eyes again and groaned, pressing the heel of her hand into the centre of her forehead to try to relieve the headache threatening to erupt. The drugs were still in her system, making her sluggish and unable to move much without feeling nauseous. She could feel Charlie still beside her, his armour occasionally squeaking noisily as he shifted. There hadn't been much movement from him since they had been put in the bus. Everytime she had woken up she had seen him resting beside her, his chin pressed into his chest as he napped and mumbled in his sleep. He hadn't been drugged oddly enough. Carol remembered hearing the kidnappers say that they didn't need to drug an old man but they didn't dare leave an Oyster aware.
Whatever that meant. It was gibberish to her.
Carol eyed the White Knight, making sure that he was still alive since his chest barely rose and fell. He had been trying to plot out some hair-brained escape plan that involved him 'transferring his soul' into a guard. A rather fantastic plan that had ended with him knocking himself out after banging himself on the head with his own escutcheon. Charlie's continued attempts at "Black Arts" had resulted in him being tased several times by their guards and Carol's concern about how much his heart could take was growing. It had been terrible to watch and she was a softhearted person by nature. Knowing that this man was a friend of Alice's just made her worry all the more. He was her one link to her daughter in this strange world and she didn't know what she would do if something happened to him.
There was a loud but incoherent argument going on above them; so loud that it was going through the boards separating them from the upper level of the bus. Carol pushed herself up further onto her elbows and tilted her head, listening but unable to understand the voices. Something must have happened to cause such a ruckus. This entire kidnapping had been done in almost relative silence, despite her attempts to get answers and Charlie's nearly incessant chattering. Not once had the kidnappers said very much beyond something they called 'word games' or the odd order or two. Each time someone came to give them food or water, it had been made clear that there was little she could say to get them to explain the reasons for the kidnapping.
It reminded her of the books and movies where a kidnapper would do something because they simply believed it was right. That terrified her more than she could let on. She'd almost prefer that this be for money or for whatever it was that Wonderland used for money. If there was nothing more behind this, what would stop them from killing her? The yelling above made it clear that something was happening and Carol went pale at the thought that this volatile argument could turn to one about killing her and Charlie.
"Something wrong, my dear?" the White Knight asked suddenly and she looked in surprise at him. He hadn't lifted his head, so his voice was muffled, but it was clear enough in quiet bottom level of the bus.
"I thought you were asleep."
He grunted and adjusted his armour a bit more so that he could breathe easier. Lifting his chin, he stroked at his moustache and tweaked the ends absentmindedly. "After that last shocking experience, I elected to merely rest my eyelids but not sleep. One never knows when the situation may arise where escape is a possibility, you know." He clicked his tongue, nodding to himself as if he agreed with his own words. After a moment, Charlie turned his bright eyes to her face. "By Phaeton you looked rather... peaky."
"Peaky?" Carol stared at him. That was an old term, one from well over thirty years ago in her world. Who said 'peaky' anymore? But this was Wonderland, she acquiesced, and she was starting to understand that things tended to be a bit… different here. "What does that mean exactly? Are you saying I look awful?"
It was a rather unfair to ask of him but her nerves were still shot and her frustrations were starting to mount. That was obvious even to Charlie and as she glared at him, he marvelled at how like her daughter she really was. The expression was the same and even the way she held her head was the same. She really was like Alice and maybe in more ways than was immediately obvious. That was an uncomfortable thought and without realizing it, he checked to see if she too was glowing in anyway. Strangely, despite her clearly emotional state, there was nothing. Now that, Charlie thought in wonder, is odd. One would think that Alice had gotten this power from somewhere. From her mother for certain. Yet beyond a faint red tinge to her cheeks and the sparks in her eyes, Carol looked just as normal as she ever did.
Maybe she needed a mark before she glowed or more time in Wonderland, Charlie decided. After all, Alice's marks tended to glow when her power was tapped into and not even Alice knew what actually caused her power to work.
At the loud clearing of Carol's throat, he jumped and gave her a contrite look. He knew that expression; it was the same one his wife the Cook would give him when he had infuriated her. He was in trouble and make no mistake of that. There was no way to escape her like he could his wife since they were stuck together.
Charlie was saved from answering by the renewed arguing above them and a loud whoosh of a door being opened and closed. They both looked above them, Charlie's tentative insult forgotten already. Carol was not about to press for an explanation when they were in this together and he was really the only one she could depend on right now to interpret Wonderland for her. That was a painfully frustrating but true thought and she sighed, rubbing at the back of her neck as she stared at the ceiling.
The floorboards shuddered as several people walked down the length of it and even the bus rocked slightly as if the weight was being distributed unevenly. Not once did the loud, angry voices cease but now there were feet tapping on the floorboards impatiently, like someone was restlessly waiting for something.
"What in the wild Kingdom of Knights is going on?" Charlie was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, his head tilted on the side like a quizzical cat.
"I don't know. There was something about their King being dead or something." Carol shrugged and stretched her legs out to try to relieve the pins and needles feeling. Apparently she had been asleep for longer than she thought judging by her numb toes. She yawned and then began to rub at her toes to get the sensation back. "King of what, exactly? A fairy king? Maybe they're hobgoblins or something strange like that, these kidnappers."
Her attempt at a weak joke fell flat and when Charlie didn't speak she stopped her stretching. Carol looked up from her toes to see that he was incredibly pale and his eyes were almost... hollow. As if what she had said had snuffed out the bright spark within him. It was like looking at a kicked puppy and she felt her heart go out to him without meaning for it to do so.
"The King is dead?" His voice was so low that she could barely hear him. The grief in his words stunned her and she frowned, watching him wipe a hand across his mouth. His hands were shaky and his chain mail made a chinking sound as he turned to stare at her full on. "Jack Heart... dead?"
Carol shrugged, not sure what else she could say and not even one hundred percent who he was talking about.
His head slumped back down on his chest and he trembled. There was a faint whimper from him, and then a choked sob. "Oh that poor Heart. He would never deserve such a thing. Assassination, most likely," Charlie muttered and his words became jumbled so that she didn't understand a word of what he was saying. Giving up on understanding 'Charlie-speak', Carol stared at him, trying to think why the name Jack Heart was familiar.
"Jack... Jack..." she mumbled, trying hard to think around her still muzzy memory. It took some thinking but after a bit her mind finally pieced together why the name rang a bell. She remembered a Jack now: a tall, brown-haired young man from a while ago who had been rather stiff but a gentleman all the same. Alice had dated a Jack. Yet his last name had been Chase… or had it been something else? Why did that Heart part sound familiar?
Carol shook her head and groaned as it came back to her. Alice's story that had been told her after Alice's second return from Wonderland. The story that had let Carol know just what had really happened before Alice had been found in that construction site. Throughout that long tale, one of her main characters had been a Jack Heart, who had been Jack Chase, and the King of Wonderland. One of Alice's friends who had travelled alongside her daughter and changed for the better because of it. The entire story that had given Jack a new identity altogether, one that Carol had come to admire in a strange way, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Charlie's grief and the reason why the people above them were arguing made perfect sense then.
"Of course. Alice's Jack. He's the only real King here?" She asked and at his nod, she immediately felt like a heel for her weak joke earlier. "Oh, Charlie, I'm sorry." She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. The trembling continued for a few more minutes and she felt awkward, not sure how to comfort him for the loss of a friend. Had she known Jack or even Charlie better, this would have been easier.
Charlie sniffed back the tears and cleared his throat in a loud raspy way while wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. He stared down at his armour and then suddenly began to adjust it as if it was an all-consuming endeavour. It was obvious that he was trying to distract himself from his grief and Carol sighed, squeezing his shoulder gently. It was odd to see his reaction, odd to see how quickly he was trying to push his emotions down and cover them up.
Talk about repression, she thought dryly.
"Yes... well. As you must realize, I have grown quite attached to the young King." His eyes were already red-rimmed, as if he had been crying for hours though it had only been a minute or so. "He was young and full of so much promise as a ruler. His life already knew such trials in just securing his throne..."
"Maybe they're wrong. People make mistakes about this all the time in my world you know. I have stories about it," Carol started and he gave her a half-hearted smile, his rambling halted for now.
"As do we... but even if the person is alive…usually it ends up being far more tragic than if they had died. " That strange yet serious phrase made Carol look at Charlie differently. He seemed to believe that there were far worse things than death here, and that macabre thought made her shiver and rub at her arms. What things could be worse? She wanted to ask him that but had the feeling that she wouldn't like the answer. Charlie was staring blindly at the red-painted ceiling, a far-away look in his bright eyes. There almost seemed to be a milky film growing in his iris and she frowned.
For the first time, Carol wondered if she had misjudged the White Knight. It was likely something that was often done, judging by his more usual antics.
Heavy boots suddenly clomped down onto the floor from up above and Carol jumped though Charlie simply blinked at the sound. He put his hand in hers to comfort her and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. The clomping carried up to the front of the bus and then stopped. Carol squinted up through the dim interior light; the windows had been blacked out on their level of the bus but even she could see that the moon was out already. The loud rattle of gears and the clanging of a bell momentarily overwhelmed the loud arguing up above before it all stopped at once. The two-tier wagon came to a bone jarring halt and someone above walked heavily from one end to the other once more. Together, they both turned their eyes to the ceiling and wondered just what was going on up above.
It was all going wrong.
Bobby Cagey, son of William Cagey, had taken a seat after yanking the emergency brake on the circuit board. The steam-powered bus was having a hard enough time going through the murky swampland of the South and every few kilometres they had to force the bus to a lower gear. Even then, it would chug along and it seemed they were going slower and slower. Soon, Bobby thought despairingly, they'd be found out. He'd likely be hung or decapitated... or worse: sentenced to life in the Lake Prison.
The other members of the conspiracy sat in the bench seats that lined the top part of the bus. The ginger haired man who had done the announcing still remained standing. He went by the codename of Leach and was the most senior of them. In a self-important way, he adjusted his trousers higher on his thin waist before thumbing his suspenders. He met Bobby's eyes with an arched expression and Bobby pushed his glasses higher on his nose in response. Leach had brought them the news from the shoreline, coming remarkably fast through the secret trails, and his words had startled all of them. Bobby could tell that the other man was proud of himself for being the first with this news and he wondered how someone who had once been in such high-standing with the Quadrille could stoop so low to be happy to have this dismal news.
"The news must not be false. No one in his or her right mind would joke about such a matter. Why would you all assume I, with my long history with the conspiracies of Wonderland, would make this into some strange jest? " Leach cleared his throat. "The King of Wonderland is dead. Dead as a borogrove stuck in a jabberwock's belly. Dead as a plant in winter. Dead as…"
"We get the point, Leach, enough. Be it as it may, that was not to plan." This was from one of the women in the back of the bus, who pushed her ebony braids back from her face and leaned forward expectantly. Bobby had to squint to recognise her. She was one of the old members of the previous resistance, one of the ones who went without any name at all. "We were just supposed to take the Oyster so that the other rebels did not kidnap her and use her for their ends. So that we could create a more controllable conduit to Wonderland; one that we could use to… escape if we needed to."
"And instead we got the King murdered!" Bobby couldn't keep the quiver from his voice. "Do you all realize what this means?"
He was met with silence from all of them. The mixture of old Quadrille members, South rebels and Wonderland City Resistance defectors all looked just as worried as he felt. Leach sighed and rubbed at his face rapidly as if to chase away his thoughts.
"The rebel arm of the White Rabbit went ahead with their old plans. They adapted their plans and went with the plan we didn't think they would use." He stared at them all. "This was too high a cost. The King was not to be injured. When we received word of this insane plan to perform a coup on the monarch's government using the Oyster magic and the Looking Glass, we were trying to keep it from happening. We all were happy with Jack Heart as the ruler. He was better than his mother had been in less than a full year of actual rule."
There were murmurs of agreement this time.
"Clearly someone was not happy," said a South rebel. "Our plan was merely to try to keep the White Rabbit from having too many pawns to use. In doing so, we were hopefully going to get the Hearts' appreciation when we revealed the White Rabbit's plans. Hoping that we could gain more power in our own right in the government with our own leaders. But now we've cost Jack Heart his life. I don't know about any of you, but I did not need this on my conscience."
"So what are we going to do?" Bobby was unable to control the quiver in his voice. "Do we return the Oyster and Knight or continue on to the Drawling retreats as planned? We could contact the Hearts from there. The Queen would be kind, I know it, and she would protect us."
Leach stared down at the floor. "We run the risk of being captured by the White Rabbit. Those in the Council who are part of their scheme will not take kindly to finding out the role we all played. If they even caught one of us, that person would be tortured into revealing the rest of us. They would turn us over to the leaders of the White Rabbit."
He looked up from the floor and saw how pale his compatriots were. Torture was something feared in Wonderland and had been long before the rule of the Queen of Hearts. Those who had been in the Resistance long ago had seen the results of the tortures of Doctors Dee and Dum. The end results had never been pretty.
Leach straightened, realizing he had to keep control of this group before they all panicked and just gave in. "Not to put further damper on these plans but who wants to be the one to deal with Alice of Legend and her Hatter? We all have heard the stories of the Taiga and the White Queen and those that know the Hatter know he is unpredictable."
"Especially when it comes to that girl," one of the women in the back muttered. She had a rose flower painted on her cheek and was sitting with a sullen look on her face. Leach didn't recognize her and he quickly committed her face to memory so he could question Bobby about it later.
"What are we going to do?" Bobby asked, not seeing Leach's look to the back of the bus. Leach looked at him and then at the others, realizing that he would have to make up their minds about this. He had no way of contacting the actual brains of this operation being this far out South and he did not like being this in charge of such strangely trying situations.
They were all staring at him expectantly and he sighed. "We continue to the Tunnels, where the old conduits were made. We go ahead with recreating a conduit from the Oyster magic and pray that it succeeds. The White Rabbit may have destroyed it but we can rebuild it. Keep it from their control and what they plan to do. The results may be cataclysmic if Wonderland is not tied to the Otherworld to stabilize it."
There was a hushed murmur as people agreed with him and he looked at Bobby. "Send word to the Drawling Master. We'll have need of his… services."
Author's Note: Drawing Dead: Playing a hand that can never improve beyond the opponent's hand. I liked the name and thought that the scheming behind everything that is happening was rather... applicable.