“Where’s Homburg Molly?” Hatter demanded.

Ripkins jutted his chin: Look behind you. Hatter half turned, saw another Fel Creel in elbow-length

gloves standing with his hands clasped in front of him, waiting politely. Ripkins slipped back in among the customers at the bar while Blister peeled off his gloves, held up his bare hands, both front and back, for Hatter to see. Like a magician about to perform a magic trick, he showed Hatter the inside of his shirtsleeves-Nothing up my sleeves. Without further preliminary, he pressed a finger against the neck of an unsuspecting Onu.

“Aahaahaahaaaagh!”

The Onu writhed and squirmed. Blister kept the finger pressed against the bubbling flesh of his neck. “Aaaaaahaaaaaaghrgh!”

Blister at last pulled his finger away, the Onu sopping with sweat and exhausted from pain. He flicked open a knife, lowering its point toward the balloon-skin of the Onu’s swollen neck. Pop! Pus poured out of the wound and the Onu collapsed.

Blister grinned. “For me,” he said to Hatter, “weapons like yours are unnecessary. Although I’m no mediocrity when it comes to using them.”

Hatter again had recourse to his entire arsenal. Top hat blades, wrist-blades, belt sabers, backpack weaponry-all clashed against Blister’s pikes, pickets, and swords. But after an extended combination of slashing and twisting, Hatter found himself on the ground, cornered against an overturned table, Blister’s deadly index finger a chest hair’s length from his exposed heart.

Hatter raised a respectful eyebrow. Then- Flink!

Out sliced his belt sabers. Blister jumped back, laughing even though his finger was bleeding from a deep cut.

“What do I care if you chop it off? I have thirteen others.”

Again they sparred, Blister sometimes reverting to the more traditional weapons of swords and shooters to fend off Hatter’s aggression, other times relying solely on the threat of his touch.

“Ungh! Ungh!”

Hatter sent two C-shaped blades coptering toward him. The blades caught Blister’s hands, pinioned them to two poles supporting the tent. Hatter let two more blades fly and Blister’s feet were suddenly pinioned, his four limbs extended in the form of an X like a volunteer who has risked his life as the target of a knife thrower.

“Pretty good,” the bodyguard mumbled, as effusive as he’d ever be regarding the skill of another.

Hatter flung his top hat blades. Dink, dink, dink, dink! They ricocheted off Blister’s restraints, knocking them loose, and boomeranged back to him. Blister rubbed his wrists and shoved his hands into their long gloves. His finger was still bleeding.

Ripkins stepped out of the crowd at the bar. “Come with us if you want to save your daughter’s life,” he said.

CHAPTER 26

I N HER tent at Boarderland’s most exclusive retreat, the Lady of Diamonds was flexing her imagination under the guidance of a trainer, or enabler.

“You can’t imagine yourself able to fly and then-poof!-you’re flying,” the enabler was explaining. “But you can imagine wings on your body and, if they’re large enough, you’ll be able to fly by virtue of their motion. Like everything in our universe, imagination has its laws.”

Eyeing the modest swirl of imagination energy before her, the Lady of Diamonds didn’t seem to be listening. She was trying hard not to blink.

“Imagination’s laws have been gleaned from the study of the strongest, most talented imaginationists throughout history. A talented imaginationist can transform an inanimate object into a simple life form, such as a gwormmy. But for more complex creatures, such as doggerels of war or jabberwocky, even

the most talented can only create an illusion of them, not the actual life forms themselves. Therefore, when

I speak of conjurings, I am referring mainly to inanimate objects, to successfully complete which, you must first envision your chosen object in intricate detail. And this…” the enabler turned a doubtful eye on the Lady of Diamond’s hovering amoeba of imaginative energy, “…is what you should be doing now. First construct the object in your mind. The better you understand the object, the more knowledge you have of it, the more successful you’ll be. Which is why I wanted you to choose something you know well.”

The energy swirl was beginning to solidify, but into what was unclear.

“Good!” said the enabler. “Excellent! Keep concentrating on the jewelry case in your mind and, by dint of your obvious talent, you will transfer what you see into the physical realm.”

“I’ve always told my husband I was talented.”

“Conjuring is nothing more than focus, Lady Diamond. Imagine-ha ha, I amuse myself-but really, imagine that the light of our suns is Imagination. On any given day, the sunlight is all around us, diffused

and shining on what it will without any influence from us. Now suppose your imagination is a magnifying crystal that channels the sunlight to a specific point with increased intensity until it creates a flame. The flame is your conjured object.”

The Lady of Diamonds’ neck muscles were tensed and trembling. She had gone from trying not to blink to squinting hard, as if the slit of her eyes determined the degree of her mental focus. But her conjured jewelry case resembled nothing so much as four pieces of wood glued together by a toddler.

“The more complex an object,” the imagination enabler said, “the longer the process takes and the more energy that is required. More energy requires a greater imaginative gift. To conjure a chair is easy; to conjure a meticulously engineered aerial craft is significantly more difficult. Those with powerful imaginations seem to intuit complex objects, as they can conjure instantaneously what it would take lesser imaginations days or weeks to conjure, if at all. But anyone can see from this display of your strength-just look at the jewelry case you’ve produced!-that you have a particularly powerful imagination.”

The Lady of Diamonds gazed proudly upon her creation. “It looks exactly like the 104 I have at home,”

she said. “Put them side by side and I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” enthused the enabler. “Being from Wonderland, the name of Alyss Heart will obviously be familiar to you. But what you cannot know, as I don’t like to mention it lest it seem like bragging, is that I was your queen’s imagination enabler when she was a child. Since that time I have enabled many other highly gifted imaginationists, but you, Lady Diamond, are easily the most gifted imaginationist I have ever coached.”

“Well,” the lady said. Was this not further proof that she should be queen instead of Alyss Heart or any

of Wonderland’s other ranking ladies? Should someone as gifted as she not lose herself in reveries of her own stupendousness? Absolutely she should. So the Lady of Diamonds floated away on musings of her magnificence, which was why it took her a moment to realize that her tent had been invaded by the white rook and his small force of pawns and card soldiers.