Thanks for reviewing, ElTangoDeRoxanne and fallacies. fallacies caught onto my plot to take over the world very quickly!

This chapter is dedicated to my goldfish, aptly named Goldy, who passed away during the night. He was at least 10 years old. Rest in peace. I hope my one remaining goldfish (who I think is 11 years old) will not fall victim to my cat.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

They circled each other, each step sure and unfaltering. Stayne smiled, the expression wrinkling his scarred face.

"Interesting how quickly you escaped the special dungeon I made for you. So, what is your plan now, Balthier? Are you going to take Alice to the Sword and steal it away from her?"

Alice watched Balthier's face carefully; searching for any tells that would reveal what ran through his maddened, fevered mind. Not one of his facial muscles twitched, nor did his eyes flicker. He answered the Knave's question with one of his own.

"Why does Iracebeth want to kill Fran? Jealousy, perhaps?"

"How would I know what lies in that fickle woman's heart?" Stayne snorted. "I know what you are. When my sword slices your head off, don't think you can play dead." He easily vaulted over a low tabletop, straight sword swinging. Almost belatedly, Balthier seemed to realize that his weapons had been confiscated when he had entered the prison earlier, simultaneously consoling himself that a bow and arrow could do much good in the confined space.

If the sky pirate had a sense of fair play, Alice decided it was almost equally as nonexistent as his conscience. As it was, any of the rules of fair engagement went out the window. He bit down on his cut wrists with teeth that seemed fantastically sharp for a human to possess, reopening the wounds. Balthier flicked his hand at Stayne's face, blinding him with the fresh-flowing blood. The Knave yelped, scrubbing at his eye with his free hand, and the pirate kneed him in the groin. Stayne gave a squealing whimper, collapsing to the ground.

Truly, Hamish would have been scandalized had he seen Balthier in action, Alice thought wickedly.

Tarrant jumped on top of Stayne's chest and held him down.

"Balthier, take Alice and run. Go get the Vorpal Sword, hurry!" he said.

"But what about you? I won't leave you behind!" Alice said, grabbing for his hand, but he shook his head.

"If you leave him here, he'll raise the alarm. Go, Balthier. I'll take care of Fran for you. I do not intend on being executed tomorrow, and I am sure that she does not either."

Balthier took a deep breath, massaging his temples, biting his lip. "Very well, Hatter. My life is in your hands. Considering my actions of late, I know I should not ask for this, but please: do not let me down, I beg of you."

Tarrant smiled, turning back to Stayne and punching him in the face when he began to recover from the assault on his manhood.

"Go!"

Balthier padded up to the dungeon gate, whispering something Alice could not understand in soothing tones. When he opened the door, the guards on either side were fast asleep, snoring blissfully. Quickly grabbing his bow and quiver from the wall, he motioned for her to follow him through the castle. Alice grabbed his hand, grimacing as her fingers slipped against his sticky palms, and gestured to his face. He blinked, then nodded his understanding, wiping the blood from his last gristly meal from his lips. It would not do to attract unwanted attention. His eyes lit up, and he quickly relieved the snoozing guards of a set of handcuffs, latching them around her wrists but neglecting to lock them.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Alibi. We can say I am escorting you to see the Queen," Balthier answered in equally hushed tones, before turning away and stalking soundlessly down the hall. Alice followed slightly more loudly, unaccustomed to towering over Balthier the way he had towered over her when they first met. She felt unaccustomed to many of the ways things had changed since they'd first met. Especially his unexpected cruel streak.

When a troop of Card Soldiers rattled down the hall, Balthier grabbed her arms tightly with his icy hands and nodded to them as they went by. After the soldiers departed, they scurried across the hall.

"Of course I trust the Hatter, you bloody idiot!" Balthier suddenly said, and Alice stopped short.

"Excuse me?" she looked at him incredulously, and he stared back, confused.

"Pardon me, I was not talking to you," he said, turning back to something about her waist height. "By the gods and scions, boy, are you going to tell me or not? Oh? The cards? No, the cards never lie. Quiet!" Balthier put a hand out behind him. Alice took it, pulling him back before he could sneak across the next corridor.

"Balthier, please, for the last time, and for not only your sake, but mine, who is it that you speak to? I think you would find yourself much relieved if you told me," she whispered, cupping his chin in her palm and forcing him to meet her eyes. His unnatural, bright silver gaze bored into her, and she found herself under the impression that, rather than seeing into his soul as she thought she could, he was seeing into hers. He sighed, not bothering to remove her hand, though he touched it delicately with his own.

"Fran says I have gone mad. Humes are not supposed to live as long as I have, and," he grimaced. "Apparently, it runs in the family. How can she understand? These people I see, these voices I hear— they're actually there. But whenever she comes near, they're gone."

"So what you say is not all lies. You really are three-hundred-fifty years old." Alice whispered.

"Three-hundred-forty-seven, to be exact, but what is three years between a century?"

"What you see, they are ghosts?"

"I… I don't know." His eyes slid toward Alice's waist again. "Don't worry, Ratsbane, I'll carve that doctor up. He lied to her, right? I haven't found his bones yet, but they cannot shake me if I have gotten the scent. It's old, though. Two-hundred years old. It's gone."

She snapped her fingers in front of his face. His eyes locked back onto hers, and she was reminded of staring into the eyes of one of the ridiculously large cats in the zoo. Pride, scorn, anger, but just underneath, a hint of fear, adding to the wild tidal wave that threatened to break from his small frame. He quivered under her large hands.

"Balthier, there is no one here to 'carve up', as you might put it. These ghosts you see— wherever you come from, it is not Underland, is it? You can do nothing for them here. But you can save yourself from pursuit by hundreds more souls from Underland that you'll never shake— take me to the Vorpal Sword, and help me free Underland from the Queen's oppression. That's what we were doing, remember?" she played gently off what she hoped was his fears, and he did not disappoint.

The quivering stilled, and he squared his shoulders. "Of course. Hurry, the courtyard is where it is kept, but you will not like the guard."

The healed scratches on Alice's shoulder twinged in memory of what the Bandersnatch had done to her, and even Balthier looked on warily. "In there?" she whispered, looking toward a small hut in the center of the courtyard. They could see the outline of the hideously huge Bandersnatch through the window.

He nodded. "It bears the scent of cold steel and magick so pure it could reduce those of the dark to ashes, a fitting blade to sever the head of Underland's worst enemy. I shall distract the Bandersnatch— you get the sword."

Alice looked back at him, but he was on his hands and knees, sides heaving and coughing, sounding much like a cat attempting to dislodge a hairball. His coughs had a strange, musical quality to them.

"Balthier?" she knelt as he wheezed unhealthily, and eventually, he raised a hand and slammed it forcefully into his stomach. There was a pop and a metallic tinkle— a small, silvery flute dropped out of his mouth and onto the cobblestone courtyard floor. Alice eyed it much like Hamish would eye a blue caterpillar. "Was that where I think it was?"

"Meaning anywhere between my stomach and esophagus? Yes. This flute saved my life from the noose many times, and it saved me just today." Balthier replied cheerfully. "Shall we?"

Alice led the way, sliding the door open and peering inside, slipping off the handcuffs as she went. The Bandersnatch was sleeping fitfully on a thin bed of straw. When it curled its paws, sharp claws sprang out. Balthier twitched next to her, his grip tightening about the silver flute.

Unheeding of her danger, Alice crept into the pen, the pirate keeping watch outside. There, in the back of the hut, under a blanket, was the chest— but it was locked. She looked toward the pirate, shaking the lock, but he shook his head. Impervious to Magick, he mouthed, and she sighed.

The Bandersnatch stirred, a rumbling growl escaping from between its teeth. Alice tensed as the beast began to haul itself laboriously to its feet, snapping and snarling at the intruders to its domain.

Balthier began to play. The sweet sound of the tiny flute rang quiet but clear through the hut, and the Bandersnatch calmed instantly, its growling fading to a quiet groan. Cautiously, Balthier stole toward it, hand outstretched while the other continued playing. He stroked his hand down the side of its head, his fingers slipping down its collar. It growled thunderously, but his fingers did not falter on the flute. Alice watched as he trailed his fingers about its empty eye socket, drumming out a faint tattoo laced with the sparks of healing magick. The Bandersnatch snorted, leaning into his hand. Balthier winced, but did not dare stop playing, as the leaning Bandersnatch smashed his hand against the wall, the rocky bricks scratching at his thin, delicate flesh. But Alice had seen what she wanted to see.

Moving so slowly that it was like agony, she reached for the key hanging from the beast's collar. The Bandersnatch snorted again. She retracted her hand in caution, but steeled herself once more, finally taking the key. Within seconds, the lock was open, and the Vorpal Sword was in her hands.

Backing out of the hut (Balthier exited with a bow to the Bandersnatch, which growled at him pleasantly), they began to sneak toward the gates.

"How did you know to play music to the Bandersnatch?" Alice whispered as they tiptoed through the shadows. Balthier smiled.

"Music tames the savage beast. Fran has used it on me multiple times, and it's quite pleasant, actually."

Alice found herself not wanting to question what Balthier had done to be deemed a savage beast at times. The large quantities of blood soaked into the cracks of his dry lips and staining his shirt seemed answer enough.

"Oy! Where're you lot goin' with that there sword?" A lone soldier they had failed to spot in the guardhouse now moved to intercept them. Balthier promptly pulled taut his bowstring and shot him in the throat, where his armor was weak. The soldier fell with a muted gurgle as more poured out of the palace, armor clanging and crashing as they sounded the alarm. Alice raised the sword, but Balthier shook his head.

"You must only use the blade for the Jabberwocky. I will take care of these," he assured her, but Alice did not see how they could get out anymore. They were quickly being overwhelmed, though many Card Soldiers now littered the ground with his arrows protruding from their bodies like gruesome flowers. He must have a plan, she decided as the soldiers surrounded them. She did not want to believe he might be betraying her again. She could almost hear his strange, cold voice and the words he would say.

Trusting me again, Alice? Tsk, tsk, innocent girls ask for hard lessons, and lessons are repeated until learned…

She considered plunging the Vorpal Sword between his shoulder blades. A sword that could turn the darkness to ash would surely destroy his black heart.

That was when the Bandersnatch came roaring out of its hut, scattering Card Soldiers like bowling pins, skidding to a halt just in front of them. The soldiers quailed in the face of its monstrous wrath, and it pawed the ground like an enraged bull.

"Up you get," Balthier said, and she easily swung up onto its back. She turned to help him up, but stopped, finding him perched just behind her. Alice grabbed the creature's collar, and it responded like a horse, rearing up and pounding for the gates, crushing any unfortunate Card Soldier that got in their path.

"Which way toward Marmoreal?" she called over the galumph of the Bandersnatch's running pace.

"North. You will know when we cross the border," he replied. It was only then that she noticed how drawn he looked, his face paper-white, his breathing labored. His eyes were glazed with stress and pain. His gaze flickered toward something just to their left. "It won't be long now. I didn't abandon her, Highness, I just trust the Hatter more than I do the average man…"

When they entered the white gates and beheld the castle of Marmoreal, Balthier's eyes closed and he slumped forward. Alice caught him before he tumbled from the Bandersnatch's back. She bit her lip, turning his wrists up. The cuts had not healed— it appeared that they had festered. Black blood oozed sluggishly out of slashes, rimmed with swollen, raw, red flesh, dripping to the ground and standing out against the white marble courtyard. But that was not all. She caught sight of another long scratch, starting just under his bloodstained sleeve. Alice pushed it back, gasping.

His arms were gouged with other rotten scratches, all of them in the same fashion: the three parallel grooves made by claws. More of the same greeted her eyes when she lifted his shirt and vest to peer at his stomach. Sickening realization dawned as she looked from the sick pirate to the Bandersnatch.

Illosovic Stayne, the Knave of Hearts, had unleashed the Bandersnatch upon him as a means of torture. Even if blood loss from cutting his wrists did not kill him (which by now, it should have), the infection from the Bandersnatch's claws would.

OxO