After a while, the noise thankfully died off. She removed her hands from her ears and looked over her shoulder. “Ok, guys, all’s clear. There’s no one there.”
Charles dusted himself off. “What was that all about? Did we dream it?”
“If you dreamed it, I did, too.” Orson pulled a cup of tea out of nowhere. “I know I saw a lion and a unicorn, and the noise with the drums was impossible for anyone to miss!”
“Susan,” Charles commented as he wiped the green off his face with a patchwork handkerchief, “you still have that plum cake tray.”
Indeed, her fingers grappled the smooth stoneware plate for dear life. “Yeah, I do! So we weren’t dreaming.”
“Maybe we’re a part of poor King Gene’s dream back at the castle,” Orson said between sips of tea.
Charles looked up from his hankie in concern. “King Gene’s asleep?”
“The Red King put him to sleep,” Orson explained. “Far as I know, he’s still passed out at the White Castle.”
“Or maybe,” said a purring voice from over their heads, “you’re a part of each other’s dreams.” The Cheshire Catwoman faded into view, relaxing languorously on a branch. “I know who’s a part of mine.” She let out a disappointed sigh. “But he’s not like he was before.”
“If you mean Dickie, Lee, he’s gone.” Brett frowned. “It was sort of my fault. The Red King’s light hit him in the head, and he went out the window.”
The Cheshire Catwoman licked a hand. “Oh, he survived the fall, in a manner of speaking. He’s waiting for you in the woods.”
“Wait.” Charles dropped his tea cup in his messenger’s bag. “What do you mean, ‘in a manner of speaking?’”
“You’ll see when he finds you.” She let out a small hiss as loud shouting drifted from the dirt path. “Unfortunately, it would seem someone else got to you first. That Red Knight of yours is terribly persistent, Ms. Somers!”
“He’s not my Red Knight!” Brett grumbled. “I sure as hell don’t want him. I divorced him for a reason.”
The Cheshire Catwoman raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “That’s not what I saw when he tried to steal a kiss from you in the Hearts Garden.”
“Ooooh!” Charles squealed. “I smell juicy gossip. Tell us all the dirty details!”
Brett rolled her eyes. “Nothing happened. He got a little too close to me.”
“Close enough,” purred the Catwoman, “that you nearly kissed him.”
“You did?” Jimmie’s beaky grin was a mile wide. “This cat smells true love!”
“It’s not true love!” She made a face. “He was getting into my private space.”
The Cheshire Catwoman’s hisses grew far louder. “You’ll have to figure it out later, because here he comes!”
She disappeared in a purple light as Jack’s horse in the red brocade blanket galloped up to her. “Lady,” he rasped as he lifted his visor, “what’s this habit you got of showin’ up at the worst time? I don’t know how you an’ the Hatter got out of Limbo, but you’re all my prisoner. You’re gonna have to come with me…owww!”
The horse didn’t stop in time to avoid the massive tree branch. Jack ran straight into it, hitting the ground with a noisy clatter. They all ran over to help him. “I knew you were hard-headed,” Brett quipped, “but you didn’t have to prove it to me!”
Jack rubbed his temple where he hit the branch. “Stupid tree didn’t have’ta get in my way. By the way, lady, you’re still my…”
“Halt! Check!” They all looked up as a second knight in white armor galloped down the road. “Here I am! Save them! Must do that!”
Dickie somehow managed to run into the same branch as Jack, landing right next to him on the ground. “Don’t harm that fair elder maiden! I’ve come to rescue her!”
Jack helped him to his feet. “Sorry I let the Red King shoot you like that. Couldn’t stop myself. It’s part of the spell.”
“Dickie?” Brett’s eyes widened. “Dickie, we thought you were dead!”
“Am I?” Richard looked himself over. Dents riddled the once-pristine armor and his face and exposed hands were a mass of bruises. “I don’t look dead. Sore, I am, but not dead. I’m still moving.”
Jack helped him to his feet. “Not when I get through with you, shorty.”
“Ya need a squire?” Jimmie held up Richard’s lance. “I know your kids ain’t here. I can help, man.”
Richard nodded. “Thank you, feather lad. My boys…” He rubbed his head, wincing when he touched a big lump in the middle. “They’re gone.”
“The Red King has them!” Brett yelped. “Guys, much as I’m flattered, this really isn’t the time to get into a squabble over me. Dickie, you have to get us through this square, so I can become queen.”
“Um, Susan?” Charles grabbed her arm and yanked her back behind a tree. “You might want to get out of the way. They’re about ready to fight.”
Everyone ducked back as the duo climbed back on their horses. Brett hadn’t realized what a ferocious fighter Dickie was until now. Those two wouldn’t give an inch, no matter how much they fell over.
“They gotta observe the Rule of Battle,” Jimmie explained. “Real important to these cats.”
Orson raised an eyebrow. “What rules? All they’re doing is hitting each other and falling over.”
“No,” Brett insisted, “look!” Richard lunged on Jack, pushing harder into him, his big lance smacking harder. “Get ‘em, Dickie! Show ‘em who’s boss!” She tugged at Charles’ arm. “Where’s that Vorpal Sword thing? It could really give him an advantage! He doesn’t have a sword anymore!”
“That’s right,” Orson added. “The Red King destroyed it.” He jumped when Jack managed to shove Richard to the ground and held his mace over him. “Charles, if you have the darn thing, give it to him now!”
Charles barely managed to haul the oversized knife out of his sack. “Sir Dawson, here!”
He slid it to Richard’s waiting hands, just in time for him to block Jack’s attempted hit. Sparks literally flew as the sword moved faster than she could keep track of. He finally swept a leg out, getting Jack down on the ground next to him with a noisy clatter. “Damn it!” Jack growled. “Boss ain’t gonna like this!”
“See?” Richard snickered. “I get you every time.”
“Whatever, shorty.” Jack glared at him. “You ain’t gonna have it so easy when she gets to the castle! He ain’t never gonna let her get that checkmate!”
She put her hands on her hips. “We’ll see about that!”
The others helped Richard to his feet as Jack galloped off, with a final “ow!” after hitting that branch again. “Hey man,” Jimmie cheered, “you were amazing there! Are you sure you hit your head?”
Dickie’s eyes seemed to have a hard time focusing. “Is your hair fastened on tightly?”
Brett raised an eyebrow. “Only in the usual way. It’s my own today.” She smirked at Charles. “Now, if you asked him that question…”
He made a face. “Yes, I have the hat pinned on now. I did it after we met Humpty Dumpty. My toupee is being washed.”
“That’s hardly enough.” Richard ran his fingers through his own sleek salt and pepper locks. “The wind is strong here. It’s strong as soup.”
“I suppose,” Brett sighed, “you think you know how to keep it from coming off.”
Dickie scratched his head. “No, I don’t,” he said in that goofy Stan Laurel voice of his. “But I’m working on it.”
The others gathered the things scattered on the road when he fell off the horse. “What’s this?” Charles picked up a little wooden box.
“It was on my shoulder when I fell off,” Richard admitted. “I had it to keep sandwiches in.” He sighed. “But it was upside-down, and all the things got out. The box is no use without them.” He hung the box on a tree branch. “There. Now it can be a home for bees, and I’ll be able to collect the honey.”
“Bees?” Brett put a hand to his forehead. “Dickie, are you feeling well? There’s no bees around here.”
He gathered a mouse-trap that was attached to the horse’s saddle. “I think the mice keep the bees away. Or the bees keep the mice away.”
“Ok, I’ll bite, man.” Jimmie took the mouse trap gingerly between wing tips. “Why do you have this thing on the horse? You ain’t gonna find any mice on a saddle!”
“Not very likely, perhaps,” Richard said drowsily, “but if they do come, I like to be prepared. It’s good to be prepared for everything.” He nudged metal anklets around the horse’s legs. “That’s why I have these. In case of shark bites.”
Brett made a face. “Sharks? We’re nowhere near the ocean!” She grabbed Dickie’s hand and led him to a fallen log. “Dickie, you’ve had a rough time. You’ve taken more lumps on your head than is reasonable for a man in less than a day. Why don’t you rest here, and regain your marbles?”
“I’m sorry, but I lost my marbles when they fell out of that wooden box.”
Charles looked up from his usual cup of tea with a frown. “I’m starting to think this is worse than him dying. He’s no good to anyone like this. He can’t defend the kingdom! He can’t even figure out where sharks and bees live. Even we Wonderlanders know that.”
She took his hands firmly and looked into his eyes. They were mild, muddled, and far-off, a far cry from Dickie’s usual steely gaze. “Dickie,” she said gently as she would to a child, “we need to find our way to the last square. I have to checkmate the Red King, remember? Fannie said you were the only one who knew their way through this square.”
He gave her a mild smile. “If I lead you through the woods, could you get me back on my horse?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Charles protested. “You keep falling off.”
“Nonsense!” Richard boomed as Brett and Jimmie helped him shimmy on the horse. “The great art of riding is to keep your balance properly. Like this…” He held his arms straight out…and this time, fell flat on his back under the horse. “See?” He added, waving his arms in the dust. “Plenty of practice!”
“Oh good gravy Marie, Dickie!” Brett protested as they helped him up again. “I think we need to get you a hobby horse or one of those horses on springs Adam had when he was a baby. The kind you can’t fall off of.”
“I’m fine, fair elder maiden.” He nodded at the plum cake tray under her arm. “What’s that?”
Brett shrugged. “It’s a plum cake tray. I never had the chance to give it back to the lion and the unicorn before they were drummed off.”
“Put it in the bag.” He nodded at the leather saddlebag on his horse’s back. “It may be useful if we find some plum cake.”
It took Dickie forever to figure it out. Even as he put the dish in the bag, it took all four of them to keep him from joining the tray inside of it. “Wait!” He pulled out carrots, tire irons, blank blue cards like the ones on the show, candlesticks, matches, and a random checkers piece. “There.” Somehow, they managed to shove the entire mess back in.
“Dickie,” Brett started slowly, “do you know where we’re going?”
“Oh, here and there.” He managed to get on again, but he kept listing side to side as they clopped along. “You know,” he added absently, “I’m a great hand at inventing things. I created a helmet that’s more like a sugar loaf. It was so long, I didn’t have to fall far when I did fall off. But there was the danger of falling into it. Once, another White Knight thought it was his and tried to put it on while I wore it. Very vexing!”
Jimmie flew under him to keep him from falling off. “If ya fell on him in a metal helmet, man, ya had to have hurt him. That ain’t fun!”
“I suppose I did, bird lad.” Somehow, Dickie managed to hang off the saddle, perfect black hair on end, and keep talking. “He never complained about it, anyway.”
“Um, Dickie-Bird,” Brett asked, “how can you stand to sit that way and just keep on going?”
He could even shrug upside-down. “My mind keeps going no matter where my head is. Even down here, I’m coming up with new inventions. Like a pudding made of blotting-paper, or an ice cream from ceiling wax.”
Orson nearly gagged. “That doesn’t sound nice.”
They’d just shoved Richard back on his horse for the seventeenth time when they arrived at another series of small brooks that bordered a soft, pale green lawn. “Dickie,” Brett insisted, “you have to come with us. Bring the Vorpal Sword. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we show up at the Red King’s castle uninvited.”
“This is the Vorpal Sword?” He grasped it and closed his eyes, his thumb running over the fine black metalwork. “Where did you find it?” She swore his breath quickened a little.
Charles made a face. “With the Jabberwock in Limbo. It’s a long story.”
When Richard opened his eyes, they were almost clear. “The Red Castle,” he said huskily, “is directly over those four brooks. I can take you over them.”
“No thanks, Knight cat.” Jimmie started flapping his wings as he protested. “Flyin’ over those is easy as floating over a log!”
Brett made a face. “Maybe that’s not a great idea, Dickie. Your mind isn’t one hundred percent well, and I really don’t want to end up in the brooks…”
“Nonsense!” He’d swept her onto the back of his horse before she could protest further. “We’ll get over those bodies of water in no time!”
She didn’t have the chance to yell before he sent his steed clopping at a full gallop. Brett clutched his back and closed her eyes. For a moment, they were flying through the air, as if the three of them weighed nothing at all. It seemed more like years, but was really seconds later when the ground thumped under them.
“We’re there, fair elder maiden,” Dickie assured her gently. “You can open your eyes now.”
Sunlight flooded a rich green lawn. She could smell the rich dampness of the earth as she leaped off Dickie’s horse and rolled on the grass. “Oh, thank God!” she exclaimed. “And what,” she added, feeling her head, “is this?”
It was a golden crown, closely resembling the zig-zag headgear worn by the Red King, Queen Fannie, and the White King and Queen. “I did it,” she murmured in shock and awe. “I’m really queen.”
“And it would never do,” said Charles as he and Orson helped her to her feet, “for a queen to be lolling around on the grass like that. Queens have to be dignified, you know!”
She smirked as she righted the crown on her head. “Tell that to Betty when she’s screaming for everyone’s heads to be knocked off.”
“We need to get you inside.” Richard trotted past them. “Queen Fannie and Queen Helen will meet you in the garden. They’re waiting for you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that, Dickie?”
Charles grinned as he gazed into the glassy brook. “I’m more interested in where our snazzy new duds came from. Look at us!”
She leaned over his shoulder and couldn’t help her gasp. Her gown, which was a tattered wreck after her encounter with the side of the mountain in Limbo, now rippled around her legs in masses of pale blue and white taffeta and lace that fanned over an enormous bustle. The puffed sleeves revealed her pale shoulders, and a black velvet ribbon with a diamond heart pendant circled her slim neck. Her black shoes were dainty heeled slippers.
Her boys didn’t look half-bad, either. Charles sported a suit in a rich blue velvet that brought out those pale-ice eyes of his. Orson’s red velvet looked equally good with his tan complexion. Jimmie had an orange and green-striped blouse that resembled his African caftan. Dickie’s armor had been polished to an inch of its life and hammered to remove the dents from his falling off the horse. Even his horse had a new white velvet blanket and shiny white saddle.
“Shall we, Your Majesty?” Charles asked gentlemanly as he took her arm. Orson ran to her side and took her other arm.
“Yes, we shall.” She grinned. “This is better than a night on Sunset Strip with three sailors propositioning me.” Jimmie fluttered next to Charles, yammering a mile a minute about how cool it all was, while Dickie trailed absently behind them.
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