“Who’s the message from?” The Pillar asks. “Your Red admirer?”
“It’s from the March Hare. Something happened to Fabiola.”
The Pillar grips the stick harder, still not facing me. He doesn’t even ask what happened to her, pretending to be that tough guy who never breaks down.
“She is dying, Pillar,” I say as slow and soft as I can. “Someone poisoned her.”
The Pillar says nothing, his knuckles whitening around the flying stick.
“Do you wish to turn back? Maybe you want to see her before she dies.”
“No,” The Pillar says in a flat voice. “Saving the world from the Chessmaster is more important.”
I say nothing. Silence chokes both of us in the cockpit.
“In fact, I feel like doing this again,” The Pillar says, and flies the plane upside down again, like a child in pain with too many toys.
Chapter 28
Buckingham Palace, London
The Queen of Hearts had been following the event on TV, as well as awaiting updates from Margaret. The news host announced the latest unfolding events, telling about Alice and The Pillar not finding Carroll’s Knight, but a chess piece of a White Queen instead. One of the Chessmaster’s men had seen them opening the coffin in Marostica, and reported it to the news.
“A White Queen chess piece?” the Red Queen spoke to her dogs, hands on her waist. She didn’t care for her guards or advisors at the moment. Whatever was going on seemed beyond anyone’s grasp.
She paced her chamber, thinking about the chess piece. If the Chessmaster wanted Carroll’s Knight, whatever that was, why did they come across this White Queen piece? Was it supposed to really lead Alice and The Pillar to Carroll’s Knight? And why would the Chessmaster sacrifice the world to get it?
Her telephone rang. It was Margaret.
“Queen of England speaking,” she said, liking the sound of it. In her mind, being the Queen of England seemed cooler than the Queen of Wonderland.
“I know it’s you,” Margaret sighed on the line. “I called you on your private phone, so it has to be you.”
“Oh.” the Queen scratched her head. “So tell me, have you found anything out about the Chessmaster?”
“Nothing,” Margaret said. “None of us remember him from Wonderland.”
“He said he wasn’t a Wonderland Monster.”
“Which puzzles me. If he isn’t, why lure The Pillar and Alice to find Carroll’s Knight? And why do his puzzles scream ‘Wonderland’?”
“I agree. He knows a lot about us. Do you think he knows about our plans?”
“I can’t say.”
“So you’re useless like always, Margaret,” she said and kicked her son’s head toward her dogs. Her doctors hadn’t found a proper way to knit his head to his body again, let alone bring him back to life.
“I’m not,” Margaret said with a challenge. “Something happened to Fabiola a few minutes ago.”
“Fabiola?” the Queen of Hearts felt a lump grow bitter in her throat. “What happened?”
“I am sorry to say this, but I think she is dying. It seems she’s been poisoned.”
“When did this happen?”
“I was waiting for you to ask me this.”
“Why?”
Margaret took her time and spoke clearly. “Because our White Queen was poisoned right after Alice and The Pillar found the chess piece, which is that of a…”
“A White Queen, too…” the Queen of Hearts slumped in her chair. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“I can’t tell, but it’s far from being a coincidence.”
Chapter 29
The Pillar’s Plane
I am not sure how much I’ve slept, but when I wake up it seems like more than seven hours have passed. I rub my eyes to take a better look outside my window.
I can’t believe what I am seeing.
We’re flying low, gliding over a white snowy mountain in the middle of nowhere. The Pillar next to me is still flying the plane and listening to some Asian chanting melodies.
“Where are we?”
“Beautiful isn’t?” he says and keeps chanting, meeha tu tu chi or something like that.
“I asked you where we are.”
“First, you have to admit it’s beautiful.”
“Ok, it’s beautiful. Where are we?”
“Here,” he points at something that’s revealing itself in the snow.
I squint and lean forward, waiting for the structures emerging out of the snow to make sense to me. Either my mind refuses to believe it or I am hallucinating.
“Is this a Buddha structure?” I point with an open mouth.
The Pillar nods, pointing. “This one is Buddha, that is Duddha, the one on the left is Nuddha.”
“I’ve never learned of the last two.”
“They’re Buddha’s sisters, but no one ever mentions them because they were girls. You know how condescending religions are toward women.”
I neglect his remark. It’s The Pillar. No changing the way he views the world. I keep watching the structure behind the huge statues revealing itself. “It’s a monastery?”