you.”
“No? Well, they’ll be surprised to learn of their nonexistence. But if you’re so sure, why don’t you take me prisoner and force my hand?”
Hatter was wondering the same thing.
Arch assumed a look of benevolence. “Do you know, Hatter, that I often worry about you? I fear you’re not making the most of your skills and intelligence. You’ve worked closely with two queens and so know the ins and outs of governing. You have the respect and loyalty of all who serve in Wonderland’s military. It’s a surprise to me that you haven’t become Wonderland’s ruler yourself.” “I was born a Milliner.”
“Don’t be so old-fashioned. You were born to reinvent yourself as many times as you like. We all were. What was it Queen Genevieve used to say? ‘In imagination lies freedom’? It’s rare that I agree with any female, but in this case I’ll have to lend authority to Genevieve’s little maxim by seconding it. Why not be a Milliner and a ruler? You’re not being very imaginative, Hatter.” “I’m not here to discuss my personal failures with you.” “But wouldn’t you consider Homburg Molly among those failures?” Hatter reached for his top hat as if he’d been physically attacked. He ran his fingers along its brim, Arch’s life saved by the hesitation. The king would have to wait for what he deserved until Hatter could be sure of Molly’s safety.
“Having been away from your official duties,” Arch said as the Milliner’s hand lowered to his side, “you might not have heard, but I’ve developed a weapon capable of destroying all of Boarderland, Wonderland, Morgavia, Unterlan, and who knows what else. I call it WILMA, which stands for Weapon of Inconceivable Loss and Massive Annihilation. It also happens to be the name of one of my former wives, who had to be put down on account of her feisty temper. I’m sure you can guess that I have no desire to obliterate myself or my nation. I do, however, know that for the betterment of all life and the inflation of my self-worth, my nation must expand to include yours and the others. But for this to happen, WILMA must be fully operational and the threat of my employing her genuine, otherwise your queen and the ‘rulers’ of Morgavia and Unterlan will have no reason to subjugate their governments to me. The interesting little wrinkle in all this, Hatter, is that in order for WILMA to operate at her full power, I need you. How and why I need you will be explained in the near future. But first, I’d like to invite you to join my tribe. I don’t ask everyone. You should be flattered.” “Are these the terms for Molly’s release? I ‘join’ your tribe and you’ll let her go, unharmed?” Arch, pacing throughout his talk of WILMA, had paused at the tent’s entrance. He now waved for someone outside to approach. “I think you’ll find that you have more reasons to join with me than merely securing Molly’s safety.”
With that, the king stepped outside. In his place stood an apparition, an illusion, a wish: Weaver. How long the ensuing silence lasted, Hatter didn’t know. “I thought…” he murmured finally, unable to finish. I thought you were dead. “Did you get the diary I left for you?” she asked. He nodded. “But I don’t under—”
“No? Well, they’ll be surprised to learn of their nonexistence. But if you’re so sure, why don’t you take me prisoner and force my hand?”
Hatter was wondering the same thing.
Arch assumed a look of benevolence. “Do you know, Hatter, that I often worry about you? I fear you’re not making the most of your skills and intelligence. You’ve worked closely with two queens and so know the ins and outs of governing. You have the respect and loyalty of all who serve in Wonderland’s military. It’s a surprise to me that you haven’t become Wonderland’s ruler yourself.” “I was born a Milliner.”
“Don’t be so old-fashioned. You were born to reinvent yourself as many times as you like. We all were. What was it Queen Genevieve used to say? ‘In imagination lies freedom’? It’s rare that I agree with any female, but in this case I’ll have to lend authority to Genevieve’s little maxim by seconding it. Why not be a Milliner and a ruler? You’re not being very imaginative, Hatter.” “I’m not here to discuss my personal failures with you.” “But wouldn’t you consider Homburg Molly among those failures?” Hatter reached for his top hat as if he’d been physically attacked. He ran his fingers along its brim, Arch’s life saved by the hesitation. The king would have to wait for what he deserved until Hatter could be sure of Molly’s safety.
“Having been away from your official duties,” Arch said as the Milliner’s hand lowered to his side, “you might not have heard, but I’ve developed a weapon capable of destroying all of Boarderland, Wonderland, Morgavia, Unterlan, and who knows what else. I call it WILMA, which stands for Weapon of Inconceivable Loss and Massive Annihilation. It also happens to be the name of one of my former wives, who had to be put down on account of her feisty temper. I’m sure you can guess that I have no desire to obliterate myself or my nation. I do, however, know that for the betterment of all life and the inflation of my self-worth, my nation must expand to include yours and the others. But for this to happen, WILMA must be fully operational and the threat of my employing her genuine, otherwise your queen and the ‘rulers’ of Morgavia and Unterlan will have no reason to subjugate their governments to me. The interesting little wrinkle in all this, Hatter, is that in order for WILMA to operate at her full power, I need you. How and why I need you will be explained in the near future. But first, I’d like to invite you to join my tribe. I don’t ask everyone. You should be flattered.” “Are these the terms for Molly’s release? I ‘join’ your tribe and you’ll let her go, unharmed?” Arch, pacing throughout his talk of WILMA, had paused at the tent’s entrance. He now waved for someone outside to approach. “I think you’ll find that you have more reasons to join with me than merely securing Molly’s safety.”
With that, the king stepped outside. In his place stood an apparition, an illusion, a wish: Weaver. How long the ensuing silence lasted, Hatter didn’t know. “I thought…” he murmured finally, unable to finish. I thought you were dead. “Did you get the diary I left for you?” she asked. He nodded. “But I don’t under—”