abuses, eager for what Redd had
promised would be the most unwholesome adventure of their
lives—their attack on Wonderland, when whatever cruel talents each possessed were to be indulged to their fullest. They were still spilling out of the palace’s Italian court when Vollrath offered himself up to his pupil.
“It isn’t clear that your Earth clothes have helped in our recruitment process, Your Imperial Viciousness,” the tutor said. “Therefore, I’m ready for whatever death you have in mind for me. Whether mercifully quick or agonizingly slow and torturous, I readily give myself up to it, as I said I would.” Redd stared at the bald head bent down before her. How refreshing Vollrath’s sacrifice was. He didn’t beg for his life. He didn’t embarrass himself with groveling or sniveling, or appeals to her nonexistent mercy. Thinking that he might still be helpful in finding her Looking Glass Maze, she said, “I’m feeling generous today. You get to live.”
“I thank you for your leniency, Your Imperial Viciousness.” “Leniency is for the weak-minded. Do not goad me with leniency.” Vollrath bowed. “I apologize, Your Imperial Viciousness. But if I may overstep my bounds and impose further on your by no means lenient generosity: Since you are going to let me live, could you perhaps imagine for me…oh, let’s say a fistful of money, with which I and a few others can celebrate?” “You’ll find it in your pockets. Now leave me to my brooding.” The recruitment search had taken Redd across the European continent—to Africa, Asia, Russia, and back to Europe, Vollrath and Sacrenoir serving as her constant companions, her guides and recruitment officers. And just as had happened with Hatter Madigan during his thirteen-year search for the exiled Alyss Heart, wherever Redd went, stories began to circulate that in time would become legend, myth. Redd passed through Germany and tales of a kobold resembling her description were whispered. In Scandinavia, she was turned into a trollkonor with a bit of the huldra about her, and like every trollkonor, she was said to have a tail. In Spain, she became an evil temptress of Moors. In Constantinople, she was transformed into one of the most powerful alkiris ever heard of, immune to steel and particularly spiteful in her killing of newborn babies and their mothers. In Egypt, she was said to be a female demon, a devourer of souls. In Hong Kong, a new goddess cursed her way into the immortal pantheon, to be trusted less than Lei-zi, the goddess of thunder, and to be feared as much as Chu Jiang, king of the hell reserved for thieves and murderers. But as these stories passed from lips to lips, imprinting themselves on the public consciousness of various cultures, so too through derelict districts and select upper-class salons did the truth become known: Redd Heart, displaced evil Queen of Wonderland, wanted soldiers to fight with her for her queendom.
“P-Potential recruits seem more than w-willing to come to you, Your Imperial Viciousness,” Vollrath had noted, shivering on a street corner in Saint Petersburg. “All you n-n-need do is choose somewhere to r-reside until we return to W-Wonderland so that would-be s-s-s-soldiers will know where to f-find you.”
Redd, unlike her followers, was immune to the cold, the stinging wind. “Then we will live in the same city where my niece once lived,” she had said, “to sour whatever lingering effects of White Imagination her presence might have had on the place.”
So Vollrath and Sacrenoir had carried Redd to Oxford, England, where they escorted her around the provincial streets, the quads of Oxford University. It hadn’t taken long for Her Imperial Viciousness to see that she couldn’t live there.
lives—their attack on Wonderland, when whatever cruel talents each possessed were to be indulged to their fullest. They were still spilling out of the palace’s Italian court when Vollrath offered himself up to his pupil.
“It isn’t clear that your Earth clothes have helped in our recruitment process, Your Imperial Viciousness,” the tutor said. “Therefore, I’m ready for whatever death you have in mind for me. Whether mercifully quick or agonizingly slow and torturous, I readily give myself up to it, as I said I would.” Redd stared at the bald head bent down before her. How refreshing Vollrath’s sacrifice was. He didn’t beg for his life. He didn’t embarrass himself with groveling or sniveling, or appeals to her nonexistent mercy. Thinking that he might still be helpful in finding her Looking Glass Maze, she said, “I’m feeling generous today. You get to live.”
“I thank you for your leniency, Your Imperial Viciousness.” “Leniency is for the weak-minded. Do not goad me with leniency.” Vollrath bowed. “I apologize, Your Imperial Viciousness. But if I may overstep my bounds and impose further on your by no means lenient generosity: Since you are going to let me live, could you perhaps imagine for me…oh, let’s say a fistful of money, with which I and a few others can celebrate?” “You’ll find it in your pockets. Now leave me to my brooding.” The recruitment search had taken Redd across the European continent—to Africa, Asia, Russia, and back to Europe, Vollrath and Sacrenoir serving as her constant companions, her guides and recruitment officers. And just as had happened with Hatter Madigan during his thirteen-year search for the exiled Alyss Heart, wherever Redd went, stories began to circulate that in time would become legend, myth. Redd passed through Germany and tales of a kobold resembling her description were whispered. In Scandinavia, she was turned into a trollkonor with a bit of the huldra about her, and like every trollkonor, she was said to have a tail. In Spain, she became an evil temptress of Moors. In Constantinople, she was transformed into one of the most powerful alkiris ever heard of, immune to steel and particularly spiteful in her killing of newborn babies and their mothers. In Egypt, she was said to be a female demon, a devourer of souls. In Hong Kong, a new goddess cursed her way into the immortal pantheon, to be trusted less than Lei-zi, the goddess of thunder, and to be feared as much as Chu Jiang, king of the hell reserved for thieves and murderers. But as these stories passed from lips to lips, imprinting themselves on the public consciousness of various cultures, so too through derelict districts and select upper-class salons did the truth become known: Redd Heart, displaced evil Queen of Wonderland, wanted soldiers to fight with her for her queendom.
“P-Potential recruits seem more than w-willing to come to you, Your Imperial Viciousness,” Vollrath had noted, shivering on a street corner in Saint Petersburg. “All you n-n-need do is choose somewhere to r-reside until we return to W-Wonderland so that would-be s-s-s-soldiers will know where to f-find you.”
Redd, unlike her followers, was immune to the cold, the stinging wind. “Then we will live in the same city where my niece once lived,” she had said, “to sour whatever lingering effects of White Imagination her presence might have had on the place.”
So Vollrath and Sacrenoir had carried Redd to Oxford, England, where they escorted her around the provincial streets, the quads of Oxford University. It hadn’t taken long for Her Imperial Viciousness to see that she couldn’t live there.