Dickie reluctantly fetched Duchess Marcia from the dungeon. Brett didn't want to know how she ended up there. Marcia could be mouthy, and given how touchy everyone in this world was, it was a dead-on given she said something that offended somebody. By the time they dragged Marcia into the garden, Lee vanished in a puff of purple smoke and a kiss blown to Richard. The White Rabbit hurried out in search of her, but she was gone. Everyone else returned to the game, except Richard, who forlornly resumed guarding the tarts, and the Red King and the Knave, who chatted near the refreshment table.
“Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes.” Marcia tucked her arm in Brett's. “I thought they'd never spring me. Do you know how dark it was down there?”
“Glad to see you, too.” She grinned. “Ok, what did you say to Betty that got you dumped in the basement? I want all the gory details.”
“Well,” Marcia admitted huffily, “it's not what I said, it's what I did. I boxed her ears.”
Adam and David trailed behind them, throwing rocks in ponds and occasionally giving each other playful shoves. “Hey Ms. Wallace,” David grunted, “what does 'box her ears' mean?”
“I grabbed her ears like this,” Marcia took her own ear and gave it a sharp tug, “and yanked. Got tired of listening to her going on about executions she doesn't intend to go through with. I knew she'd let me out sooner or later. She gets angry, but she doesn't hurt anyone. I think it's more of a way for her to let off steam.”
Brett had a hard time keeping up with her leggy friend. She forgot how fast Marcia could be when her mouth was running. “Marcia,” she puffed hard, “I need help. My boys and I want to get back to our home, but the way we came is blocked, and we don't know where there might be another exit.”
“I don't know, either.” Marcia stopped, thoughtful. “But I know who might.”
The croquet grounds were a ghost town. No one remained but her, the four boys, Marcia, the White Rabbit, Dickie, and the Queen and King. “What happened?” Brett couldn't help the worried look on her face. “Where did everyone go?”
“Most of them are in the dungeon,” Betty admitted. “I might have been a tad hasty in making arrests. We'll let them out after we clean up the croquet grounds.”
Dickie made a face. “Does that include my men, Your Majesty?”
“The men who painted my beautiful roses?” Her glare turned frosty. “The Red King already asked about them. They're staying in the dungeon until he can retrieve them after their trial.”
“Look, Your Majesty,” Brett growled, “my sons and I just want out of here. Their father will be picking them up any minute! Is there anyone in this crazy place who knows how to get back to the surface?”
“I think I know.” Richard took her aside. “The Mock Turtle may have some idea of how to get you out.”
Marcia gulped at Betty rubbing her ear and raised her hand. “I'll take them there, if the White Rabbit comes with me. He knows him better than I do.”
“Well...” The White Rabbit shook even harder than usual. “I...all right! Ok! I'll do it! Just don't let me lose my muchness or get thrown into Limbo!”
Richard took his boys aside, then whispered into her ear. “I'm going to see what I can do about getting my men out. She never really has anyone killed. There hasn't been an actual beheading in Wonderland for almost 200 years. I wish you luck in getting home!”
Brett nodded. “Thanks. Good luck saving your men, Dickie.”
As they followed Marcia and the rambling White Rabbit, Brett swore she saw the Knave tip-toe to the tarts and grab one...and then another one, and two more, shoving them in his face. She wanted to take another look, but the others moved so fast, she worried about being left behind.
“Marcia,” she asked breathlessly as they followed a dusty path down to a wide, sandy yellow beach, “what's a Mock Turtle?”
“What, you mean you don't know?” Marcia looked shocked. “It's what Mock Turtle Soup is made from!”
Adam stuck his tongue out as his nose wrinkled in disgust. “Why would you eat a turtle?”
“Mock turtle, doofus,” David snickered. “It's not real.”
Brett got between the boys to avoid more insults. The path from the castle became rockier and harder to follow. As they made their way down the beach to the gently lapping waters, the sounds of noisy sobbing became far more apparent. Whatever it was, it sounded like its heart broke a thousand times, then broke again after his dog died.
No comments:
Post a Comment