Vollrath bowed. “I will subject myself to your temper.” “You’ll have no choice.”

Again, Vollrath bowed. He knew how to humble himself before a potentially lucrative pupil.

“It’s time to leave this tomb,” Redd announced. “I want to be unofficially introduced into Earth society. Cat!”

The Cat devolved into a kitten and rubbed against her leg. She lifted him onto her shoulder and he perched with his claws digging into her skin to steady himself-the pricks of pain a comfort to this high priestess of Black Imagination. Sacrenoir issued instructions to Marcel for the disposal of his audience’s remains and, torch in hand, led Redd and Vollrath out of the theater crypt.

“Every would-be queen has a Looking Glass Maze, which they and they alone can enter,” Vollrath lectured Redd as they made their way through a catacomb to the open air of Paris. “Since you were in line to succeed your mother, there existed a Looking Glass Maze intended for you, and which, to tap the full potential of your imagination and become queen, you would have had to successfully navigate. You couldn’t operate the key to the Looking Glass Maze because it was the key to Alyss’ maze.”

“Alyss’ maze?”

“Indeed. Perhaps when my old colleague Bibwit tutored you as heir to the throne, he was remiss in his teachings. It wouldn’t surprise me, although it would likely surprise most Wonderlanders. Only a handful of times in Wonderland history has a princess failed to complete her maze, but you are the first to be removed from succession. However, with regard to the fate of a Looking Glass Maze, the result of both must be the same.”

“What force or being constructs these mazes?” Redd demanded.

“That is an important question, and the answer lies with those who can provide the answer to another, perhaps more pressing one: What happened to your Looking Glass Maze after you were removed from succession? I assure you, it did not cease to exist, and if you’re able to locate and navigate it…”

Redd understood. A maze intended solely for her, designed specifically to unharness the full power of her imagination? Alyss had gained surprising strength and skill by passing through her Looking Glass Maze. Yet she, Redd, had nearly conquered Alyss without passing through her own. The maze was everything. She would storm through as many of its false passages as necessary to complete it; she would become invincible.

“Earn your life, tutor. Where do I find my maze?”

“In the Garden of Uncompleted Mazes, of course. But where this garden is, I have no idea. You have to ask the oracles of Wonderland.”

“The caterpillars,” Redd sneered as a staircase of uneven stone came into view ahead of her. “I hate the caterpillars.”

Sacrenoir dropped his torch to the ground and kicked dirt over it to extinguish the flames. A slant of light

shone down on the stairs from above. Redd led the way up to the street. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the harshness of the morning sun, but even then-

“What’s this?”

Everywhere she looked: Parisians enveloped in hazy nimbuses, some gray, others as purple-dark as bruises, while still others were more or less radiant with a whitish glow.

“To some Wonderland eyes,” Vollrath said, “those gifted in White Imagination glow brightly while those given to Black Imagination glow darkly. It’s more difficult to notice the dark glow at night time. It’s an excellent thing to be able to discern friends and enemies at a distance. The dark glow will make it easier for us to find the soldiers you desire. You should see the cloud that hovers around you, Your Imperial Viciousness. It’s a wonder you’re visible at all.”

Redd examined herself-her arms, her feet. Everything appeared as it had since she’d stepped from the painter’s canvas. No bruise-dark aura.

“Wonderlanders can’t see their own glow,” Vollrath explained, “for the same reason that they’re usually not good judges of their own behavior. They do not see how they actually are, only how they perceive themselves.”

Redd stared out at the passing clouds of people. The Cat, his tail swishing, nimbly crossed from her right shoulder to her left.

“You needn’t tramp about the city with us, Your Imperial Viciousness,” said Sacrenoir. “Let Vollrath and me gather our acquaintances so that you can review them as a group. This will save you labor and give you time to plot a search for your Looking Glass Maze.”

“An idea worthy of my tutelage,” agreed Vollrath. “Mistress Heart, you will, I think, be intrigued by the

Hall of Mirrors in the Versailles Palace. Why not take in the sights Paris has to offer?” “Because, tutor,” Redd snorted, “I’d sooner kill you.”

D ODGE, NOT usually one to linger over tokens of the past, was in his guardsman’s quarters picking over the few items he had salvaged from the former palace: a portrait of his father he’d drawn when he was eight years old, a dented broach that had belonged to his long-dead mother, and a packet of letters he’d written during Redd’s reign but never sent.

He set the portrait prominently on the mantel and moved the dining table in front of the glowing hearth, laying out two place settings and a pitcher of winglefruit juice. There was nothing left to do but wait.

“No talent for waiting,” he said to himself.

He had volunteered to go after the Diamonds and Alyss had ignored him. In front of everybody. He thought it important for her to understand a couple of things. He surveyed the room again, hoping to find some final preparation that needed doing, but all was in order.

Bleep, bleep bleep bleep, bleep.

His crystal communicator sounded with the agreed-upon signal. Any moment Alyss would be passing down the hall to the sovereign suite. He pulled smooth the sleeves of his guardsman’s coat and squared his shoulders, to appear as official as possible. He stepped to the door and out into the hall.

“Queen Alyss, my guards have discovered something I think you should see.”

Her face had relaxed at the sight of him, but her brow at once contracted, her lips thinned with tension. “We’ve found evidence of suspicious activity in the palace,” he said.

“What sort of activity?”

“You might want to step this way and see for yourself. I apologize in advance for your having to set foot in a guardsman’s quarters.”

He led her into his rooms. The boyish portrait of Sir Justice, the fire crystals in the hearth, the elegantly arrayed table: Alyss blinked in puzzlement.

“What is all this?”

“My best guess, Your Majesty, is that it’s breakfast, but I can’t be sure until we taste it.” Which was when she realized. “Dodge,” she said quietly.