Chapter IX: The Best Laid Schemes…
Chessur re-evaporated in front of Bill's house. (He'd shrunk himself down to the proper size on the way over.) From his vantage point, it was a great, crooked, towering building of wood, with only one window, that being in the tower. The curtains were drawn. The stairs that lead to the tower seemed the give the building its sole shape, and so, from the outside, the whole thing looked like it could fall over at any instant. But, of course, it was much sturdier than its unorthodox appearance would lead one to believe.
To a normal-sized person, the house was about the size of a large dollhouse.
Chess sighed inwardly as he opened the door (it was not locked). He felt sick, like a vice was pressing on his chest.
Or was that regret and guilt?
Oh, there was no time for such emotions now! The plan was going too well for him to back out! Besides, now that he'd gone and threatened her, all chances of her loving him as he was were probably thoroughly squashed.
This was most likely what hurt him the most. He really WANTED her to want him as him, not as a dormouse! He'd been leaving her clues in his speech and actions that he half-hoped she'd figure out. She wasn't unintelligent, she had to have noticed them! But, then again, if she was picking them up, she wasn't giving him any visible sign of it…
He did feel so sick…
He swirled up the stairs – he could have walked, yes, but where was the fun in that? – and came to another door. He knocked, but no reply came.
He tried to open it, but it was locked.
He heard a stirring from inside, followed by another, and a voice saying, "I need to fix that doorknob…"
Chess put his ear to the door. From the room came a soft, rhythmic sound of chimes, playing a slow, beautiful melody…
A music box!
Chess swiftly spiraled into the room.
Bill sat in front of the closed window, back to the Cheshire Cat, on a box. His saber was held in one claw, laid across his lap. Chess couldn't see the music box, but from the lizard's posture, he guessed he held it in his other claw and was looking at it. The room was dark…the only light came from a dying fire set into an old fireplace. However, he could make out at least two articles of decoration: an old cot in the corner and a rack of sabers and blades above the mantle.
"That music is lovely."
Bill let out a strangled-sounding gasp, and a sharp clicking noise soon followed. The music abruptly stopped. Chess felt oddly disappointed.
The gecko slowly turned towards the Cheshire Cat, pocketing the still-unseen music box. His amber eyes stung with ice.
"That's private," he hissed from the shadows.
"Nothing is 'private' to me, Creole."
"SHUT UP!" bellowed the lizard, rising so fast the box he had sat on fell over. If looks could kill…
Chess tilted his head to one side slightly and raised an eyebrow.
"You and Mally seem to be strange choices for palace guards, former or not. Swordmasters, unless I'm quite mistaken, aren't supposed to show such violent shifts in emotion as you two do, are they?"
"Yes, well, we can't all be cold and ruthless killers, like you, can we?"
"Look who's talking."
There was a long, long, long silence.
Bill sighed.
"How was your luncheon?"
"Fantastic. She hasn't the foggiest."
"Good, good. And did she enjoy it?"
Chess hesitated before saying, "Well…she seemed to. I told her I'd visit her at tea tomorrow, and she said that would be all right, and that we could make a pattern out of it."
"Out of what, exactly?"
"I go to tea with her, the Hare, and the Hatter one day, she comes to lunch with me the next."
"I see. Actually, that's not a bad idea! You may need to…er…'expand on your character,' so to speak, as time goes on, but that should really get her to feel more comfortable around you. She might start to let down her defenses."
"Actually, she seems 'comfortable,' as you so mildly put it, around me already. She's letting me call her Mally."
"Ah," Bill said simply, and sighed again. "Well, that could be a bit of a problem."
"Why so?"
"Because, my fine feline fink, that means she still recognizes you as Chess, not Russ, albeit subconsciously."
"Oh. And that's a bad thing, right?"
"You bet your pointed ears it is. Unless you can keep her in such a state for the remainder of the process, or, more preferably, bury any recognition whatsoever, she'll soon see through the veil and realize the lie. You MUST NOT let that happen; there is a paltry number of perfect throats in the world. A shame to ruin yours."
"I'll manage. And you'll help me all the way, no?"
"Yes. I told you that I would. Check in with me at the Rabbit's place at the end of every week. I'll give you tips depending on how things go. Now, while your pattern is good, it will begin to bore, so if I tell you to try something new and different at any point, don't question me, I implore you. After all, you chose me to be your 'mastermind,' as it were, and I can assure you that I know what I'm talking about."
"Got it. You know," Chessur added, smirking ever so slightly, "for someone who claims not to believe in love, you seem to be pretty eager to get Mallymkun and I together."
"Like you said, I wasn't always that way."
Another long silence.
"Anything else, Bill?"
"Well, actually, there is ONE teeny, tiny thing…" Bill said slowly, and stopped pacing.
"What?"
Bill smiled a cold, dead, reptilian smile.
"If I ever catch you here again, cat, say your prayers fast, because I'll waste no time at all in ripping your lungs out."
Chess grinned an equally fiendish grin.
"That's a very big if, Creole."