Frank Beddor - Seeing Redd

But why poison my brain with thoughts of Jack of Diamonds?

Why, indeed, when Dodge Anders had caught her eye from across the courtyard? It was the first time she was seeing him in his uniform as head of the palace guard. She’d almost forgotten how handsome he could be when dressed in formal attire.

As if it were possible to forget.

She had always thought his was a rough-hewn handsomeness, the four parallel scars on his cheek adding to his looks rather than diminishing them. She’d been thrilled when he requested his father’s former post, and interpreted it as meaning that he would abide by a guardsman’s code instead of avenging Sir

Justice’s death. She only hoped that he didn’t become too much like the Dodge of her youth, who had shown an almost religious devotion to propriety, a guardsman’s place in relation to the queen, because

now that there was no threat of her having to marry Jack of Diamonds… She glanced away, afraid she would reveal too much of herself in her eyes.

“Molly, there are enough guards and chessmen here to protect a flock of queens. I want you to go off and enjoy yourself.”

“But I am enjoying myself.”

It was Molly’s job to shadow her everywhere, Alyss knew. But it could be so bothersome. How was she supposed to have any time alone with Dodge, who was that moment making his way toward her though she pretended not to notice?

“Molly, I order you to enjoy yourself somewhere else.” “Fine,” the girl pouted, and stomped off.

Alyss kept her eyes to the ground. She tried to think of something clever to say to Dodge, but her mind filled with the sort of things she might murmur to any old stranger-how are you, lovely weather we’re enjoying, at least we have our health. She felt him standing next to her. Her quickened pulse loud in her ears, she looked up and-

It was only Bibwit, with official pardons to sign. “Must I, Bibwit, even during the party?”

She watched Dodge veer off to confer with one of his guardsmen; he would never interrupt her when engaged in the nation’s business.

“I’m sorry you find it inconvenient, Alyss. But these are Wonderlanders who have been punished by

Redd’s regime for committing no crimes.”

He was chastising her, in his gentle way. Why should those who have innocently suffered be made to suffer another moment? Wonderlanders imprisoned during Redd’s reign were being interviewed, their cases reviewed to determine if they were legitimate criminals or merely people who had fallen afoul of Redd’s temper. For the latter, proper legal channels had to be employed, pardons issued and signed.

“It seems that being a queen involves nothing but paperwork,” Alyss sighed, scratching her name first on one pardon, then another.

“Mastering the combat aspects of a warrior queen is the easy part,” said Bibwit. “The administrative responsibilities of ruling from day to day, of contending with the bureaucratic procedures that keep Wonderland society functioning-these are more subtle to master and therefore more difficult.”

The walrus-butler waddled up as Alyss was signing the last of the pardons. “Queen Alyss, King Arch of

Boarderland is here.”

Bibwit’s ears stood erect in surprise.

“He must have come to wish me well,” Alyss said, not quite believing it herself. “Please show him into the garden, walrus.”

“Yes, but…yes, I tried, Queen Alyss. But he says he prefers to visit with you in a more masculine environment.”

“And where would that be?” “In the briefing room.”

She saw the king in her imagination’s eye, in the company of his intel ministers and bodyguards, a disdainful expression on his face. She flicked a look toward Dodge. He shrugged in good-natured understanding: He would have to wait.

“I’ll attend you, Alyss,” Bibwit said.

Wonderland’s queen shook her head. “No. It’s more important that you end the suffering of the falsely imprisoned as soon as possible. Deliver the pardons to the arbiters, as you’d intended. And please arrange for me to inspect the conditions at the mines. The reports I’ve heard are disturbing.”

The tutor appeared uncertain.

“Don’t worry, Bibwit. Arch can do nothing to me.”

On her way out of the gardens, Alyss passed the Lord and Lady of Diamonds, who were talking with

Homburg Molly. The lady suddenly raised her voice as if to make sure Alyss heard what she was saying:

“Jack was forever bending rules to suit his own interest, though we never thought he’d go so far as to conspire with Redd. Of course we had to disown him, our only son and heir, after his treasonous behavior.”

But as inexperienced a sovereign as she was, even Alyss knew: In the garden of state, treason was a weed; just when you thought you’d rooted it out for good, it returned more virulent than before.

T HE GUARDS were nearly as unforgiving as the mountain the prisoners labored against every day, their hands cut and swollen from smashing at rock with dull handspikes and blunt pickaxes. They had

forgotten what it was like for their muscles not to ache; the day-long monotony of hammering reverberated in their bones even after they slogged back to their dormitories to lie on their bunks and

wait for sleep, hoping to dream of open fields and bright light, anything but their lives at the Crystal Mines with its windowless housing bunkers and mining tunnels lit sparingly by fire crystals.

They came from all levels of Wonderland society: once-pampered sons of business leaders and ranking families whom Redd had caught exhibiting goodwill to the less fortunate; law-abiding shopkeepers and restaurateurs who had refused to make monthly donations to Her Imperial Viciousness’ accounts; homeless youths Redd had deemed useless, as they had shown no tendency to violence. But among them: one actually deserving of punishment whose backside was, despite his having lost weight since his arrival, still more rotund than the rest of him.

Jack of Diamonds’ time at the mines hadn’t been as woeful as it might have been, since he was adept at pocketing small fragments of crystal, which he used to bribe guards for an extra bowl of infla-rice or for less strenuous work assignments. Yet physical labor was physical labor and, as Jack often told anyone who would listen, the stuff was beneath him. As for the infla-rice, it was supposed to expand in his stomach and make him feel full, but even two bowls’ worth left him hungry, and its blandness caused him to mourn all the more the loss of the savories and feasts he had once enjoyed as a free, high-ranking denizen.

Sitting on the edge of his bunk, grubby and wigless, he bragged to his dorm mates, as he did every night,

of his former life.

“I had countless footmen and servants. I wore clothes made of only the most exclusive materials, such as gwynook skin and caterpillar whiskers. And as to wigs, oh ho, I could praise them for an entire lunar cycle and still not relate a tenth of their beauty. I had the finest wigs the queendom has ever known!”

This occasioned much confused murmuring among his listeners. Jack of Diamonds had plenty of hair. Why would he wear wigs?

“If I had looked down from my privileged seat atop Wonderland society,” Jack went on, “I wouldn’t have seen any of you, that’s how little you would have been. You criminals cannot possibly understand how difficult this is for me, having to share a room with you.” Then, as he did every night, he suddenly cried, “There’s been a mistake! I’m Jack of Diamonds and I don’t belong here!”

Tonight, however, hardly had he uttered these words when-

eeeeeEEEEEEEBOOOOOSSSHHHK!

He was knocked to the floor. Chunks of stone flew every which way. The air became heavy with dust. A glowing orb generator had blasted a craggy hole in the wall.