Red Queen (9 page)

Hatcher.

It was a thought or a wish or possibly a cry, and she was certain it would be her last.

Then she was able to breathe again, the unbearable pressure gone, but it was hardly reassuring as the monster had opened its hand, grasped her by the ankle, and lifted her to its eye level. Her pack knocked against the back of her head as all the blood rushed from the bottom of her body to the top.

The giant's eyes narrowed slightly as it observed her. “Well, you are hardly more than a mouthful,” he said. “But you'll do until I can find your friend.”

The creature's maw opened, revealing cracked yellow teeth and a large grey tongue. An astonishingly foul odor emitted from its throat, like the inside of the creature's body was populated with dead things.

This is the last thing I will see in this life,
Alice thought, and reflected that death by Jabberwocky would have at least been less disgusting than this.

The bottle with that monster (
butterfly
) was still in her pack,
so at least it would also be digested and Alice could go to her death with a clear heart. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the inside of the monster's throat as she slid down, not wanting to know anything else. She hoped it would be quick. She hoped it wouldn't hurt.

Then, yet again, something unexpected happened, as it always seemed to do to Alice.

As the giant released her and she fell toward its wet grey mouth, she was snatched from her fall by another enormous hand.

“Cod, no!” shouted the second giant, who held Alice by her ankle and shook his hand as he spoke. “You know the rules. You know her law. They've done no harm and we are to do no harm in return.”

The giant's gesticulating made Alice feel that all her organs would soon shake loose and fall out of her mouth, and then where would she be?

Dead,
she thought sourly, whether by the will of one giant or the accident of another.

“I'm huuuungry, Pen,” whined the first giant, whom the second giant had called “Cod.” He sounded exactly like a child begging for a lemon ice at the zoo. “It's been ever so long since we've had any human flesh. Not since
he
started burning everything out of spite. That one and her friend were the only two to pass through in ages. No one wants to cross the plains anymore.”

“No one left to cross the plains anymore,” said the second fellow, who appeared to be called “Pen.”

What curious names these giants have,
Alice thought. It was something to think about besides the fact that she was upside down and rocking to and fro with every motion of Pen's hand.

“But that don't give you the right to break her laws. She said she'd punish us and you know right well she can and will,” Pen said.

“Don't see how she could punish us worse than she already has,” Cod muttered.

“I'm sure the Queen has more imagination than you,” Pen said. “A maggot would.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Cod roared.

“It means you're a selfish cur without the brains of a dog!” Pen shouted back, and Alice was once more subjected to a violent shaking.

All of a sudden she decided she'd had quite enough,
thank you
. She opened her mouth and emitted a scream so bloodcurdlingly shrill it stopped both the giants dead.

Pen lifted her to his eyes. They were like tremendous boulders in his face; Alice thought she might be only half the height of his nose, and that it might take seven or eight Alices to reach from the bottom of his chin to the top of his head. His face was an almost perfect duplicate of the first giant's.

“Here, now, what's all this?” he asked, and he had the temerity to sound insulted.

The constant hanging and shaking and screaming and the threat of imminent death had quite taken Alice's breath away, but she managed to gasp out, “Turn . . . me . . . over.”

Only then did Pen seem to grasp the distress Alice was in and right her in his palm, his expression somewhat abashed. “Sorry about that, miss. It's just I was angry at my brother here and forgot I was holding you.”

“Yes, I gathered,” Alice said, attempting to look as though she witnessed arguments between giants all the time and certainly failing as she staggered across Pen's hand and was forced to sit. She could have stretched out flat with her arms wide and not covered the whole breadth of his palm. “Do you think you would let me down now? I'd feel much better with the ground beneath my feet. Not that your hand isn't lovely.”

She added this last bit hastily, not wishing to offend the giant and have him decide she was better off in his brother's gullet after all.

“Of course, of course, miss,” Pen said, lowering his hand toward the ground.

As he did, Alice caught a glimpse of both giants' faces looming above her—and the gleam of malice in Cod's eye. Pen appeared to have noticed the same light, for he hesitated when Alice was still several feet from the ground.

Then he said, “What if I were to accompany you for a short way? Perhaps until you rejoin your companion?”

The creature's formal language was so at odds with its monstrous appearance and the behavior of his brother that Alice nearly laughed aloud. But she didn't dare. The giant hadn't released her yet, and his hand was just as large and bruising as the other's.

“I thank you very much for your kindness, sir,” Alice said, matching her tone to his. “But I would not wish to inconvenience you. If you would point me back to the path, I would be very grateful.”

“Oh, no, it's no inconvenience at all, miss,” the giant said, and instead of lowering her to the ground he lifted her again, higher and higher—

(And I've had quite enough of heights as well.)

—until his palm was level with his shoulder. It was quite clear what he expected Alice to do. She sighed, a very small and almost inaudible sigh, and clambered over his palm to the giant's rather horny shoulder, gripping one of the protrusions so as not to fall off.

“Right,” said Pen. “You go back to the village now, Cod. Gil's waiting there for you.”

He showed Cod his fist as he spoke, making it clear what his brother could expect if he didn't obey.

“What about you?” Cod asked, an ugly grimace twisting his mouth. “Where do you think you're off to with her?”

“I'll be along directly, as soon as I assist this lady.”

“I don't think you are,” Cod said. “I think you're just keeping her for yourself.”

This thought had already occurred to Alice, and that perhaps Pen would use her to find Hatcher and have two scrumptious mouthfuls for himself, his brothers none the wiser. She'd already resolved to escape the giant as soon as a plan presented itself, although from this height her only real option was to perhaps
stand upon the backs of a couple of sturdy crows—always presuming she could get them to cooperate.

Cod lunged for Alice then, his hand swiping out and just missing the tips of her short hair. Pen slugged his brother in the face, a furious crash of knuckle to cheekbone while Alice held on for dear life.

Alice thought that Cod would retaliate for certain, but instead the other giant's great green eyes filled with tears.

“Whatja do that for?” he sobbed, holding one hand to his injured cheek. “Whyja do that?”

“Now, now,” Pen said soothingly, patting Cod's shoulder. “There's no need for all this fuss. You brought it on yourself, you know. Go on back to Gil now.”

Alice thought he seemed a bit embarrassed by his brother's outburst. He peeked at Alice out of the corners of his eyes, as if checking to see how much attention she was paying.

“You didn't have to hit me,” Cod said.

“Well, you weren't listening. Go on. I'll be along soon enough.”

Cod moved away, shoulders hunched, sniffling and sobbing. Even though he had just tried to eat her, Alice felt suddenly sorry for him. He looked small and pathetic for all that his head nearly reached the tops of the trees, and while Alice had no wish to be a meal herself, she could well understand the desperate hunger that had driven Cod to act as he had.

“I'm sorry you had to witness that, miss,” Pen said, peering down his nose at Alice perched on his shoulder. His breath was
just as foul as his brother's. Alice fought the impulse to cover her nose as he spoke.

“That's quite all right,” Alice said, trying and failing to speak without inhaling. “And there is no need to call me ‘miss.' My name is Alice.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Alice,” Pen said, and held up one giant finger for her to shake.

Alice did so, thinking that she had been in many extraordinary situations since she and Hatcher had broken free from the hospital but this, somehow, was the most extraordinary of all—nearly eaten by one giant and saved by another with better manners than most people in the City.

“Now,” Pen said, and he thankfully turned his head away from Alice (who took great lungfuls of air as surreptitiously as possible). “You wanted to return to the path, is that right?”

“Yes,” Alice said. “I need to find Hatcher again.”

The giant moved forward in great lumbering steps, and Alice felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. It was not a very pleasant way to travel, she reflected as she wrapped both arms around one of the giant's horns and prayed fervently not to fall off. She would be crushed by one of Pen's feet before he realized what happened.

“You got yourself far afield,” Pen said.

“Your brother was chasing me,” Alice said drily.

“Ah,” Pen said. “Yes, of course. That would happen.”

He fell silent, seemingly brooding on something. Now that the threat of immediate death had passed, Alice found herself
fretting about Hatcher. It wasn't like him to leave her behind. His behavior had been so strange last night, far stranger than usual. It was as if he'd been seized by some power not his own, some temptation too powerful to overcome.

Indeed, for a moment Alice had the odd thought that she'd seen a wolf's yellow eyes in his face rather than Hatcher's grey ones. But that was silly, and probably a trick of the moonlight. Probably.

Whatever the reason, he had left her. And while she could comprehend a brief madness overcoming him, she couldn't understand Hatcher not returning once that madness had passed. Which meant that something must have happened to him, something that would prevent his return.

Alice remembered the goblin, its long fingers reaching for her hair, and shivered. What if the goblin had gotten Hatcher? “Gotten” was all she could allow herself to think, because a world in which Hatcher was dead was not a world she wanted to live in. There was no future for Alice if Hatcher wasn't in it, and so she must extricate herself from the admittedly polite and helpful clutches of this giant and find him.

Even if it means facing the goblin again?

She deliberately moved away from thoughts of that creature and seized on something the giants had said.

“Pen,” Alice said. “Who is the Queen?”

Pen shuddered all over when Alice said “Queen,” an involuntary spasm.

“The White Queen,” he said, and his voice was low, almost furtive, as if he feared being overheard. “This is all her land hereabouts, from the village at the edge of the plain to the top of the mountain.”

“And at the top of the mountain,” Alice said, almost as if she were in a dream, “there is a palace made of ice, and the walls echo with the sound of children screaming.”

The giant gave Alice a startled glance. “I don't know anything about that, Miss Alice. I've never been to her palace. Me and my brothers stay here in the forest, for that's where she told us to stay.”

“Or she will punish you. More than she already has,” Alice said, and the question in her voice was an invitation.

Pen was silent for a moment. Alice dearly hoped he was not about to grab her and smash her against a tree for being impertinent. Then the giant sighed, a long sigh of such misery and exhaustion that Alice wished, somehow, that she could relieve his burden.

“My brothers and I,” Pen began, studiously looking ahead and not at Alice, “we were not always as we seem to you now. We were human once, just like you. Nothing but boys, really, though we had the appearance of men. We all shared the work of a farm at the edge of the plain, quite near the place where the village is now. Our mother passed on when Cod was born, and our father followed when he was twelve, so you really must forgive him.”

Pen turned earnest eyes toward Alice and she received a blast
of horrid breath again. “For he never had a mother, and Gil and me could only do our best after Da passed on. I'm afraid we let him run a bit wild.”

This, of course, was a completely inadequate reason for trying to eat a person whole, but Alice took it in the spirit of apology that it was given and nodded for Pen to continue (and to return his attention to the path before she passed out from breathing his fetid air).

“Well, for a few years after Da died we kept the farm as best we could. Gil and me worked side by side with Da since we could walk, but we didn't really understand about getting a fair price for our crops and all—Da had always gone to the market on his own while we stayed home to tend the animals and Cod. You likely know what happened next. It's a common enough story. When we brought our crops to market the folk there saw we didn't know what we were about and took advantage. And every year we had less money than the one before, less feed for the animals, less wood to repair the roof and the barns. Finally, there were no animals at all, for we sold them, and then the furniture, and finally the land. If our da was alive he would have wept in shame, for that land had been part of our family more generations than you could count.”

Then your da ought to have taught you better how to keep it,
Alice thought tartly,
instead of keeping all that knowledge to himself.