Court loss or lose. Invite loss.

She stood before the Heart Crystal, her scepter held loosely in her hand, doing nothing. “Alyss!” Bibwit shouted. “A-lyss!”

I must invite loss to prevent Redd’s victory.

Above her, above the city center, the web of caterpillar thread was more intricate. She rushed to the control desk, sent a dispatch to the generals.

“Let Redd advance,” she ordered. “But be sure the soldiers make a show of resistance. If they don’t, she’ll be suspicious.”

“Let Redd advance?” General Doppel’s voice croaked.

“All due respect, Your Majesty,” said General Ganger, “but that’s crazy talk!” “Just do it!”

With Bibwit fidgeting at her side, and still defending Dodge-who had yet to land a blow on The Cat construct-against Redd’s bruisings, she watched the control desk’s viewing screens. On the outer streets of Wondertropolis, the first of her retreating card soldiers appeared, fighting weakly and rushing for cover whenever it presented itself. Redd’s army came from every direction at once. Redd herself followed along behind the warriors who’d fought their way through the Everlasting Forest, riding tall in her three-wheeler with Arch and her tutor as companions.

Beep, beep beep beep. Hatter’s voice pumped through the control desk’s speakers: “Queen Alyss, I’ve woven the green thread, as you requested. The pattern is all but complete.”

“Hold, Hatter, and wait until I give the order to complete it.”

Redd’s forces were quickly surrounding the palace, smashing shop windows, exploding transports, scarring building fronts with crystal shot and razor-cards.

“Are you sure this is wise, Alyss Heart?” Bibwit said, but he seemed to be talking to himself and Alyss didn’t answer.

“Closer,” she was murmuring as Redd advanced. “Closer.”

Another few blocks and the palace itself would be overrun. Redd’s army was already storming down Heart Boulevard toward the palace gate. But still Alyss waited. Redd appeared on the boulevard. Three blocks away, two blocks, one block-

“Now, Hatter!”

On Talon’s Point, the Milliner tied the last segment of loose caterpillar thread in place according to the diagram Arch had given him, and-

WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMP!!! WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMP!!! WUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMP!!! WUUUUUUUUMMMP!!!

WUUUMP!!!

It didn’t matter who or what they were-queen, tutor, guardsman, general, evil ex-princess, conniving former king, chessman, soldier, mercenary, or civilian. To WILMA, all were equal, all equally vulnerable to the upside-down mushroom cloud of energy she’d birthed, and for a time, the length of which would be forever unknown in the annals of Wonderland, it was as if life in the capital city had been wiped out.

S HE WASbeautiful. She was powerful. WILMA was everything a despot could want in a weapon. If, in terms of destruction and body count, the annihilation she caused was not as massive as it might have

been, the loss could still prove inconceivable…

Redd was among the first to revive. She found her scepter, which had been knocked loose from her grip, and stared groggily about. Her three-wheeler was nowhere to be seen. Her army-her niece’s too-lay scattered before her in various attitudes of unconsciousness.

A quarter of a block away, Arch and The Cat were gradually waking. Arch recognized the effects of WILMA but did not understand what had happened. The effects were not as drastic as they would have been if Hatter had activated WILMA per his instructions. Still, the weapon could not have failed to operate upon the imaginatively gifted. Wasn’t Redd’s three-wheeler gone? Every one of her conjurings would have vanished. But precisely to what extent Redd had been affected, and for how long she would remain so, Arch didn’t know. He would have to bide his time, to watch and learn. He hadn’t become Boarderland’s king by being reckless. He would not ruin his chances to be king again by acting too hastily.

Approaching Redd, he said, “Alyss must have harnessed more power from the crystal.”

Redd snorted, dismissive. But a power that could flatten entire armies in one go? She sought Alyss in her imagination’s eye, but it was as if she’d been blinded and she saw only darkness. She had been feeling somewhat less tingly since she’d awakened…

She tried to conjure a transport, unable to summon so much as a wheel into existence. She tried for something smaller, simpler: a rose vine. No vine formed. She tried to conjure what even a talented child would have considered child’s play: a tarty tart. Again, she met with failure.

She was powerless. She had no imagination.

How could she face her niece without imagination? She would kill Alyss for doing this to her. A slow death. A torturous death. But not now. No, she first had to regain her former strength, again suffuse herself with power, and then…

Arch was watching her. She grimaced to hide her panic. “Bring the doggerels!”

From her caravan of attendants, the dazed doggerel-keeper shuffled up with three packs of the dazed creatures.

“Heads ache, not quite awake,” the animals chanted, “let us alone and give us bones.”

“Shut up!” Redd said. “You are to sniff out Vollrath, Sacrenoir, Alistaire, Siren, and whoever is still alive among the tribal leaders. Tell them we’re returning to Boarderland. They are to consider today a practice run for the genuine attack we’ll soon make on this, my queendom. Now get.”

Their collars clicked open and the sixty doggerels trotted lazily off in various directions. Redd stomped over to a spirit-dane struggling to its feet. Not yet recovered from WILMA’s impact, the beast nearly buckled when Redd climbed onto its back.

The Cat transformed himself into a kitten and jumped up to sit in his mistress’ lap.

“Arch!” Redd aimed her scepter at him as if to strike a blow with her imagination.

Amused, Arch said, “Coming, Your Imperial Viciousness,” and hopped into the saddle behind her. Spurred on, the spirit-dane loped toward Boarderland, carrying Redd and Arch into a future that could

never accommodate both of them.

T HE REPORTS were identical to the ones received after the Crystal Continuum had been rendered useless. Conjurers were unable to conjure, writers unable to write, inventors unable to invent, musicians unable to play their instruments or compose. The sole difference between WILMA and Arch’s prototype lay in degree, scope. WILMA had left imaginationists throughout Wonderland without their abilities.

“If I myself hadn’t seen the Heart Crystal as dim as a volcanic rock,” Bibwit said, “I wouldn’t have thought it possible. Whatever else has happened, the universal imagination has been scrambled, and I pray this is merely a temporary problem, as it was in the continuum crisis. But I do grow paler than usual when I consider what might have occurred if Hatter had done Arch’s bidding and sewn the caterpillar thread over the city’s center.”