Page 20 of Wondrous

“Shame they aren’t real dragons,” the Hare said. “Real dragons you can reason with. Still, you don’t want one to find you poking around in its hoard. Sea dragons store their hoards in the caverns of desert islands so far from shore there’s nothing but blue in all directions.”

He fell silent, gazing into the distance.

“What are you going to do?” the Hatter asked me.

“What I do best,” I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “I’m going to serve tea.”

Chapter 11

Naturally, the Hatter spent the next quarter hour wringing his hands and trying to convince me to change my mind and simply return to the cottage. There was no point in arguing with him, because the Hatter was such a creature of Wonderland that he couldn’t understand any thought process that went in a straight line. The White Queen had prophesied that an Alice would save Wonderland, which meant that the Queen of Hearts had demanded that we save Wonderland or leave it forever, which meant that I was going to have to save Wonderland. That these events were connected was incomprehensible to the Hatter.

Eventually, the Hare took him aside and spoke to him quietly. The Hatter began to sob, which came as somewhat of a relief, because it meant he’d given up on arguing and moved on to complaints.

“But she’ll miss my unbirthday,” he cried. “And she’s already missed so many! What of my new recipe for lavender scones?”

“I’m sorry to ruin your party, Mr. Hatter,” I said. “But I’m afraid this is rather important. I don’t know anything about hunting dragons, so I’m going to ask someone to help me.”

“One of those other Alices,” the Hare said. “That’s not a bad idea, if you—”

“No,” I said, a little too loudly. “I’m—I’m going to ask someone else.”

Ask was a word that didn’t quite fit, given what I was planning. Nor did someone, for that matter. But I didn’t want to frighten them. “It’s an idea I had from the Cheshire Cat,” I added.

“We only had three guests at tea while you were gone,” the Hatter said in a quivering voice. “Me, the Hare, and the Dormouse. I much prefer when there’s four.”

“I know,” I said sadly.

“Well?” the Hatter folded his arms and glared at me. “How long will this take?”

“Ah?” was all I could say in response.

The Hare elbowed him. “It’s a lot to do. Three mock dragons. Don’t pester her to hurry.”

“I’m not,” the Hatter protested. “I just want to know which unbirthday I should have tea ready for her. It would be dreadful if she turned up and only three places were set.”

“Well,” the Hare said, “we’ll simply set four places every day, just in case.”

“Oh, no,” the Hatter moaned. “We can’t. There’s nothing in the world more horrendous than setting a place for someone and them not turning up. And then you must put everything away—ah, how ghastly! I can’t even bear the thought of it.”

“All right, we will simply have the crockery ready but not set—”

“That’s just as bad!”

“It isn’t! Not if we pretend it’s only there to air out, and try not to look at it—”

“Excuse me,” I interjected. “Are you—are you assuming that I’m going to do it? That I’ll kill the dragons?”

“I don’t know about kill,” the Hare said with a harrumphing sort of laugh. “It’s hard to imagine you killing anything. Why, you cried when the Hatter put the teapot down on a ladybug. But certainly you’ll chase them out, or trap them, or”—he waved a paw—“some such.”

“Killing them would be faster, though,” the Hatter said hopefully.

“What I’m trying to say is that I might not be the Alice in the prophecy,” I said. “There seem to be—a lot of other candidates.”

The Hare shook his head in exasperation, and the Hatter laughed. “Who else would you be?” he said.

I threw my hands up, frustrated. “I don’t know! But I might not be the Alice.”

The Hatter’s laughter died, and they exchanged looks of puzzled concern. The Hare stepped forward and patted my arm. “You’re our Alice.”