Normally the guards would not let her out of their sight unless she had a protector—Sir Gorrann or Wardley or Cheshire would do, but the truth of the situation was obvious: what could they do that Morte could not? Morte had killed a white bear, something that five of the best Yurkei warriors could not do. He would protect her. Dinah began strolling up and down the rows of tents, first the black Spade tents, which reeked strongly of men, ripe sweat, and ale. Loud snores filled the narrow grassy corridors between tents, and Dinah smiled at each resonating snort. She lightly touched the tent flaps as she walked by, lingering on how close she felt to these soldiers when they weren’t looking her up and down with doubt. These men, they would fight and die for her, even if they weren’t sure about her ability as queen. They believed in her, in her claim for the throne, but most importantly they believed she would acknowledge their rights. Whatever the reason, she would appreciate every sleepy sound that came from their filthy mouths. After the battle, there would be far fewer voices to hear.
A large field separated the Yurkei tents from the Spades. Morte galloped across it with abandon and waited impatiently for her on the other side. The Yurkei tents were vastly different from the Spade tents. The Spade tents were black and shaped in the typical triangular tent form with black flags flapping from their posts. The Yurkei tents were circular and white, utterly without color or flags. They hovered above the ground, buoyed up by thin wooden reeds. Dinah knew from her time in Hu-Yuhar that they were also much more spacious, comfortable, and portable. She wandered the line of Yurkei tents, up and down their endless aisles. There were no sounds here of sleep. The Yurkei were silent sleepers—there was nary a breath to be heard. The same held true for anytime they moved. The King and his vast resources and armies had failed to wipe them from Wonderland for one reason: they were stealthy warriors and could launch an attack without making a sound. Many villagers didn’t even know that their town was being sacked by the Yurkei until it was over and an arrow protruded from each of their chests. Compared to the Yurkei, the Spades were hulking and clumsy, with their only talent being the swing of a sword and the cruelty with which they inflicted injuries upon their enemies. No wonder they hate us so, Dinah thought, we are like ungainly giants, stomping across their land on big feet. She stopped to take a breath.
The night was still and damp, the stars clustered in one small corner of the sky. Just out of the corner of her vision, Dinah caught the slightest flickering of purple light. She blinked. It was still there, a flash in the dark, a blue glow where there shouldn’t be, pulsating from between two tents. Taking a few steps back, Dinah walked close to the line of white, round, cloudlike structures and peered between two that were situated abnormally close together. Between the two tents sat another, only this tent was almost perfectly round—a sphere with a wide bottom, balancing precariously on two long wooden poles. The shape would have been abnormal enough if it wasn’t for the strange, hazy lapis light that pushed out from the tent. A trail of bluish lavender smoke exited through a hole in the top of the tent, winding and curling in on itself. Morte gave a loud snort and began bucking unhappily. The ground shook when his massive hooves met it and she feared he would wake the entire army. Dinah reached for him.
“Shhh… shhhh… it’s okay.” Morte yanked back from her touch and galloped a few feet before he knelt to the ground. He stared at her accusingly for not following him. Dinah turned back to the tent, her curiosity piqued. This was the tent of Iu-Hora, the Caterpillar—the witch doctor who had traveled south with the Yurkei. Iu-Hora was the alchemist who created the incredible medicines that healed the Yurkei so quickly. He had potions and herbs for every ailment, several of which Dinah had used in her time at Hu-Yuhar. He was said to be many things—mad, a genius, an evil incarnation of the Yurkei’s power and myth. Some said he hatched from a cocoon, others that he was brought down to the tribe by cranes. Each Yurkei either loved or feared him, dependent upon whether or not his medicines had been used to save their lives. Either way, he was guarded fiercely from the rest of Wonderland by the Yurkei. It was said that he held the secrets to the world within the confines of his pipe.
Recently, Dinah had heard whispers that Mundoo had sent Iu-Hora south with Dinah so that his potions might be used to sway the opinions of the Spades if needed. It hadn’t been, but the idea that one could drug an army into doing one’s bidding was disturbing. Dinah blinked in the hypnotic light, unsure of how long she had been staring at the tent. It reminded her of a glistening, opulent blueberry, and she found herself drifting toward it, not unlike her reaction in the mushroom field. Stop it! she told herself. Be wise! She spun on her heels to leave when a soft voice beckoned from the darkness, sweet like honey and heavy like wool.
“Come to me. Dinah, my child, come in, come in! Let me know who you are.”
Morte gave a snort of unhappiness from across the field. The tent pulsed again with the light and Dinah found herself taking the few steps up the wooden platform and stepping into the tent. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the strange light, which she realized was coming from a large hookah pipe in the middle of the room. It was almost as tall as Dinah herself, blue light flickering out from the bottom of the pipe. The glass of the hookah was transparent and inside, silver-and-blue-veined leaves flickered and glowed. A thick smoke filled her eyes and lungs, and she instantly began to cough and choke as a voice filled the room.