“His name was Dodgson. Known by most of your kind as that author fellow . . . Lewis Carroll.”
I press my spine into my chair and stare at Hubert in disbelief. “You’re trying to tell me that Queen Red knew Lewis Carroll. Personally. Before Alice Liddell ever found her way to Wonderland.”
Hubert’s yellow gaze darkens like dried yolks. “As I heard it, Red put on the glamour of a male professor and befriended Dodgson at some fancy university here in Oxford. They had endless philosophical discussions about a magical realm and where there might be an entrance. Red helped Dodgson come up with a mathematical formula to find the longitude and latitude of the gateway. It’s how Dodgson discovered this inn. Perchance you should question Rabid, seeing as he was a part of it all and is your royal advisor now.” The egg-man purses his mouth and taps his lip. “Oh, wait. He’s stuck in Wonderland, and there isn’t any way there or out, thanks to you. So I guess we’ll never know.”
He wobbles away on his praying-mantis limbs, leaving my mind reeling.
I don’t allow guilt to surface this time. I’m too intent on this new development. Hubert’s explanation supports my dad’s claim that Charles knew about the entrance to Wonderland before Alice fell down the rabbit hole. But why would Red plant the possibility of such a place in Charles Dodgson’s mind to begin with? Why would she want him to find Wonderland?
Dad’s voice breaks through my thoughts and I look up. He’s on the restaurant level. Hubert stands between him and Uncle Bernie. The egg-man jots something on his notepad, taking Dad’s order. The moment the inn’s owner totters to the kitchen, Dad slaps his brother’s back. They part ways, Uncle Bernie returning to the pit and Dad headed toward me.
Frowning, I spin my fork on the table. Soft candlelight reflects off the prongs as I try to wrap my head around the Charles Dodgson twist.
“What are you thinking about?” Dad tugs gently on one of my side braids.
“Nothing.” Until I can make sense of this information, it’s not worth sharing.
Dad drops into his chair and rubs his thumb over the dimple in his freshly shaved chin, as if debating whether to press the subject.
“You were amazing out there,” I say to distract him.
He grins and dabs sweat from his face with his napkin. “It all just came back to me. Like riding a bike.” He gestures toward the kitchen. “The egg-fellow is putting a rush on our meals. We have to leave within the hour.” He casts a side-glance to the netherling guests who are leaving.
“Okay. What’s the plan?” I slide the basket of bread to Dad.
He takes a bite of a roll. “It’s the changing of the guards this evening. Bernard is going in. He can assure us safe passage through the infinity mirrors, in case I’m rusty at pinpointing the portal. But we’ll still have to make it through the gate.” The worry lines on his forehead indicate there’s something more.
“Did Uncle Bernie tell you what happens if we get turned away?” I venture, letting the that we’ll become mutants go unspoken.
Dad glances down. “He didn’t have to. I remember.”
I cringe. He’s no doubt witnessed something or someone becoming a looking-glass reject. Skin prickling under my tunic, I slide my half-full glass of water his way.
Dad takes several sips. “If you’re worried about mutations, that’s only a danger where the passage connects to the tulgey wood. It’s a result of being swallowed then forcibly coughed out of a tulgey’s throat, and is only a danger to those with magic in their blood. Humans are immune.” A troubled furrow crosses his brow as it hits him that the immunity doesn’t apply to me.
“It’s okay, Dad. “I pat his hand. “We don’t need to take that gate until we leave AnyElsewhere.”
“And then we’ll be trekking out in reverse, so you’ll be safe.”
I shouldn’t be surprised at how convoluted the rules are. Nothing about Wonderland is simple.
“Now, about the gate that bridges the human world.” He taps his fingers on the glass. “It has an eye. My family made a treaty with it, a century ago. The terms are it will let two guards in and two out at each change. Bernard and my cousin Phillip are the two knights going in. They have to smuggle you and me with them. If the gate catches them, it will strike us all dead.”
My whole body goes rigid. Nice. I’ve not only endangered my loved ones and all of Wonderland’s occupants, but also the uncle I’ve barely known for two hours and a second cousin I’ve never met. It seems senseless. “If the gate is so formidable, why are knights even necessary? Why should any of you put yourself in danger?”