Hatter (27 page)

Bustling surrounded them, and Hatta knew it would end in violence if he didn’t intervene. “It’s just Hatta and Chism and Ander. And four horses. Who would you be?”

The gruff speaker answered, “On Queen Palida’s authority stay where you are and lay your weapons ahead of you on the road and you won’t be harmed.”

“I’ll lay my weapon into your gut first, then finish your companions,” said Chism. Hatta knew the threat wasn’t empty.

From behind, a man said, “That sword won’t do much good against arrows.” The silhouettes of two archers with drawn bows blocked the road.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Hatta risked an arm on Chism’s shoulder. “Their bows, Chism,” he said in a pleading tone. “And from the rustlings, there must be more hidden.”

With a grunt Chism pulled away and turned his horse to face the opposite direction. “I’m sorry you don’t understand,” he whispered. “Ander can explain later. Never think I don’t love you, brother.”

Without warning, Chism spurred his horse and lunged northward, as arrows flew all around. Hatta screamed and leaned forward, hugging his horse’s neck tightly. Turning his head to look behind him, he saw Chism race past the two men in the road. In a zigzag pattern he faded into the early morning, appearing uninjured.

Armed soldiers surrounded Hatta and Ander, pulling them roughly from their saddles. Hatta hardly noticed the violent impact with the road. Dirt mixed with blood from his split lip, filling his mouth with a brown metallic taste, but it was overshadowed by the taste of abandonment.

After all they had been through, Hatta never expected Chism would be the one to run.

Chapter 24

Distraction

“They might have let me keep my hat,” complained Hatta, feeling very exposed.

“It’s a shame, Hatta, but I think you’ll wear a soldier’s helm before that turtle hat again,” said Ander.

The morning sun, as yellow as it would be all day, warmed them where they sat, back to back in the middle of the Northern Spoke. Two disinterested guards slouched fifteen paces on either side.

Hatta refused to believe what was trying to become very clear. One small benefit of instability—on occasion he was able to disbelieve things if they weren’t directly in front of his face. Digging for more reasons to doubt the situation, he asked, “What do you suppose the soldier might have meant when he said, ‘Welcome to the White Queen’s Army’?”

“It’s as clear as melted ice, Hatta. We’ve been conscripted. Like it or not, you and I are soldiers in Palida’s army.”

Distracting Hatta from bone-deep anguish, a rabbit emerged from the bush in front of him, and what a rabbit it was! Unlike any creature Hatta had ever seen, it shimmered from one color to another, lingering just long enough for Hatta to truly appreciate each rich hue before blending into another. June-bug blue changed to lilac which in turn became pale blue that reminded Hatta of the tiny flames that appeared at the edges of a campfire.

As quiet as a morning glory opening for the day, the hare ambled forward and rested between Hatta’s feet. “Do you have the time?” it asked in a small voice.

Did it really speak? Or had Hatta’s skill at interpreting animals improved considerably? He’d never been asked the time before, not by an animal, but new adventures were the norm of late. “I would think it’s still morning,” said Hatta. “I do apologize, but I’ve never been very concerned with time.”

Ander responded, startling Hatta. “Me neither. When I’m hungry I eat, when I’m tired I sleep, and when nature calls, well, you know.”

The rabbit, now the color of leaves at the peak of their fall transformation, shrugged. “I didn’t have anywhere to be anyway.” It spoke just loud enough for Hatta to hear, causing him to wonder if Ander could make out anything. Their heads were less than a hand apart, but they faced opposite directions.

The urge to converse with the hare overcame the concern about Ander overhearing. “I hadn’t planned on being
here
today. I can think of many places I’d rather be, but I can’t think of many places I’d rather not be.”

“You’re as logical as a fish is wet,” said Ander. “I thought I was done with soldiering. Even when Chism asked me to accompany him to find you, I never expected anything like this.”

Waiting until Ander finished speaking, the golden rabbit said, “Don’t worry, Hatta. You’ll find a way out of this. There’s still saving the kingdom to consider.”

That was the second unusual creature that referred to his marvelous destiny. For some reason it made him nervous to discuss it openly, though every so often he still believed it to be true. But with Ander listening, he didn’t want to discuss it.

With a glance at the lounging guards, Hatta asked, “Do you think you’ll be noticed? Would it matter?”

“With this remarkable mane?” said Ander, with a shake of his head that caused his hair to brush Hatta’s. “I stand out like a new coin. It’s only a matter of time until someone recognizes me. My only chance is if they don’t link me to Chism.”

The odd rabbit grinned a toothy smile, apparently enjoying Hatta’s double conversation. “They won’t see me. I’m much too quick. Besides, I’ll be going soon.”

“Why?” asked Hatta, disappointed. When the rabbit left, so would the only distraction from his contemptible fate.

Ander spoke. “He didn’t tell you, but Chism made serious problems with a duke in Far West Province. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a high price on his head still.”

With no warning, the lime-colored rabbit dashed into the brush and disappeared, immediately followed by the crunch of approaching footfalls. An angry man with white stripes on the shoulders of his uniform ordered, “On your feet.” A handful of guards followed silently.

Using each other’s backs to push off, Hatta and Ander shimmied to a standing position and turned to face the officer. Ander was as relaxed as a cat in a tree but Hatta felt more like a bird in a cat’s mouth. “Would obtaining my hat be a possibility?”

The request drew much more of the man’s attention than Hatta wanted. The strong-jawed officer glared into Hatta’s eyes, forcing him to drop his head and look away. He regretted not pressing Cheshire to teach him the disappearing trick, and had to be satisfied by scooting behind Ander’s shoulder.

In a growl, the officer said, “You’ve got bigger problems than your hat. The boy who fled this morning—who was he?”

Hatta squeaked, “He would be my…” but Ander’s voice rode right over him.

“He said his name was Chism. From T’lai if I’m not mistaken. Said he was looking for adventure.”

The officer’s attention whipped to Ander. “And who is he to you?”

“A helper, that’s all. I make fabrics, and my friend here mines mercury. The lad worked for us.”

“How long have you known him?”

“A month, maybe two. Just since he showed up at our hut.”

How did Ander lie to the man’s face without any outward sign? Even listening to the lie made Hatta fidget, but only slightly more than before.

“Describe him to me,” ordered the officer.

Ander tried to pull an arm loose, forgetting the bonds. “Up to my shoulders in height, hair as black as burnt charcoal, with eyes nearly as dark. Thin jaw line that’s never seen a razor. If I’m being honest, the lad was troubled, Sir. Never talked about his past, but I could tell it was murky.”

“Is this him?” He signaled to a soldier who presented a parchment with Chism’s likeness. The rough drawing disturbed Hatta. The artist had drawn his brother with unforgiving eyes and a frightening scowl. Words and numbers were written in fancy letters above and below the sketch, but they meant nothing to Hatta.

“That’s him, or I’m cousin to a clownfish,” said Ander. “Is there really a reward for his arrest?”

The officer grunted. “Before lamenting the missed reward, you should consider your luck that you didn’t end up dead.”

“But he’s just a boy,” said Ander with genuine shock. It looked genuine anyway, but Hatta had seen him lie once already.

“That
boy
is a rogue Elite. He nearly assassinated a duke in Far West Province.”

“Dimples and dandruff! It appears we owe you our gratitude for scaring the runt off.”

I thought Ander loved Chism,
thought Hatta.
More lies?

“Say nothing of it.” A meaningful grin showed on the officer’s face. “That’s what brothers-in-arms do for one another. You’re members of the White Queen’s Army now, after all.”

Hatta felt his face pale and he pulled against his bonds, looking for something to lean on. “No, we can’t be. I…I…” Everything was turning black again; he had no defense against such plainly spoken truth.

What a shame that the dirt in the road was so uniform in color. Even the gray gravel on the road outside of Palassiren contained shades of gray, as well as the occasional bluish pebble.

Umber. That’s not distracting in the slightest
. The thought of life as a soldier wilted his spirit.

Offering a shoulder for support, Ander came to his rescue once again. “Pardon my sensitive friend, Captain. What he’s trying to say is that we are already in the service of Lady Queen Palida.”

The captain looked amused. “Is that so? In what capacity?”

“Craftsmen. As I mentioned, I work in textiles and he makes mirrors.”

“Yes, Palida cared for mirrors a great deal,” said Hatta. Now that was a decent topic of conversation. “Did you know she never looks directly at anyone?”

“Of course I know that,” said the captain. “Anyone who’s ever seen her knows that.”

“Yes, well we’ve secured the supplies we needed and we’re traveling back to her now,” said Ander.

“Surely you carry a writ from the queen or some other proof?” With an innocent expression, the officer waited for Ander to shake his head. “No? Well I’m not exactly…convinced. I feel our current need for soldiers outweighs her need for a tailor.”

“With due respect, Captain,” said Ander, “we are not unknown laborers whose presence will go unnoticed. We both know the queen can be, how should I say this? Quirky at times. Look at this hair, Man. Even if I was the worst textile maker in the Twelve Provinces she wouldn’t turn me away.”

It was true. Lady Palida was obsessed with all things white, and Ander’s hair was nearly as white as Chism’s was black.
Hmm, complements.
Hatta managed a minuscule smile at the discovery, but it only lasted until he looked back at the sneering officer.

“White hair may be rare, but it’s hardly proof.” He looked at Hatta. “You say you’re a mirror maker?”

Hatta started, “I…” but couldn’t bear the man’s gaze so he nodded.

“Tell me about your craft. How exactly does one make a mirror?”

Careful not to look at the captain’s face, Hatta hesitantly explained the most common metals used to make mirrors: tin, mercury, silver. Gaining confidence, he delved into the mixtures of each and what would happen if concentrations were incorrect. It was difficult, but he was careful to leave out any mention of colors, since a servant of Palida wouldn’t deal in such things. Halfway through the explanation of building frames, the captain cut in.

“So you are a mirror maker.” Hatta felt the man’s gaze leave him. Addressing Ander he said, “But what is a clothier doing with a soldier’s spear.”

“A man must have a way to protect himself,” said Ander with a shrug. “Lady Palida herself gave that to me. It once belonged to a Fellow! She said even if I couldn’t use it well, it might scare off would-be bandits.”

“And why are you here in the northern Provinces instead of serving at her side?”

“Cinnabar, Sir,” said Ander. “We mine it for mercury; me for my fabric and him for his mirrors.”

With a quick glimpse, Hatta saw the captain was still wary. Deep in thought, the man paced slowly in front of them. “Nearly every draftee has one excuse or another. I want to believe you. I
almost
believe you. But you haven’t produced any proof that you’ve more than glimpsed the queen in a hallway. And your association with that rogue Elite is too much coincidence.” His considering countenance snapped back to the stern gaze, and Hatta knew he’d decided. “We’ll meet up with her forces eventually. You will stay with us until then. And please don’t desert because I’d hate to hang you before we can verify your story. Assign them to Worick’s Squadron,” he said to an underling, and walked past.

Hanged if he didn’t stay to fight?
Hatta didn’t know if he would faint first, or vomit then collapse into the sick.

Ander swore. “Lizards and onions!” That didn’t sound appetizing at all, especially with his current nausea. But there was something about onions.

What is it about Onions? Onion, onion, onion.
And it hit him.

“Onion! That’s it,” shouted Hatta, moving toward the officer. The guards stepped in front of him. “The queen’s king son, I mean the king, the queen’s son. Antion. She calls him Onion, but not when people can hear. He doesn’t care for it, but she only says it because she loves him very much. ”