He exhaled and sat back on his wooden stool, taking a long sip of the swirling golden ale. “The life of the Spade, my lady, is not ‘honorable’ as you say. No, it’s filled with fighting and bickering among ourselves, for we have nothing to do but the King of Heart’s dirty work. It is a miserable existence. We are asked to live in this constantly changing darkness, and yet, if the king needs someone assassinated, who does he come to?” Starey beat his breast with a gloved fist. “He comes to me to murder his enemies, to seek out Yurkei spies, to dispose of his mistresses when he grows tired of them. I have thrown men in prison who simply looked at the man in a way he did not like. I do these things, and for what? To see my men treated like sewage, discarded like day-old tarts?”
He brought his fist down onto the wooden palace and the stables crumpled beneath his hand. “Tell me, Your Majesty, what will my legacy be? A legacy of death and sorrow, praying that war will come, just so we may take leave of our sorry quarters? I tell you, no! If it is the last thing I do in this pathetic world, I will leave the Spades in a better position than they are in now. My men deserve better than this excuse for an existence, for we are the ones who fight and die for this kingdom.”
Bah-kan spoke up from the corner of the tent where he softly ran a dagger across his giant cheek. “You fight and die for unjust wars. The Yurkei have done nothing to deserve your raids. Your men are brutish and cruel—they are monsters.”
“I will not listen to a coward speak,” replied Starey Belft, his face stoic.
Bah-kan leaped up with a roar, and Dinah barely had enough time to fling herself between the two men.
“STOP! As your queen, I order you to step back!”
The men, their chests heaving, took a single step back, more out of self-preservation than respect, Dinah suspected.
Bah-kan eyed Dinah as he spoke. “You are not my queen; the Yurkei have never submitted to Wonderland domination. But I am sworn to protect you, as Mundoo commanded. Do not forget, little girl, that is why I obey you now.”
Dinah nodded and waited until Starey and Bah-kan sat back down, her patience gone. “Sir Starey, what demands have you brought on behalf of the Spades? What price will I pay to have them fight for me?”
Starey handed Wardley a rolled piece of paper, which Wardley then gave to Dinah. “It’s all written there for you, made up of the voices of a thousand Spade warriors that have been oppressed and enslaved for centuries. We have five demands. First, a Spade shall be allowed to marry and raise children. Second, a Spade can choose to live with his family in a private household within the kingdom, as do all the other Cards.” He paused. Dinah nodded. These seemed reasonable. “Third, we would ask that you move our barracks away from the Black Towers, to the south side of the kingdom, as the first major project once you are crowned queen. Fourth, we ask that the queen would meet with a small group of established Spades before declaring war or ordering raids on any group of people. We would like to have a say in the matter before we are asked to sharpen our axes for battle. Our final demand is that the Spades will take new rank just under the Heart Cards, and be paid accordingly. This will allow us to afford more for training and feeding, so that we may build a strong army, inside and out.”
Dinah faced him across the wooden structure. “If this war works, Sir Starey, there will be no need for raids or battles. We seek peace with the Yurkei.”
“A strong queen needs a strong army.”
“He is right, Your Majesty,” spoke Cheshire. “Though you will not war any longer with the Yurkei, you will still need an army to police the city and to protect you. Especially once you have established your rule, there will be parties who seek to harm you.” Like the Diamonds and the Clubs, thought Dinah, who will have just been usurped by the Spades. I will elevate one group to make two others angry.
Perhaps this was the game that Wardley had spoken of. War was, at its most basic level, the great reassigning of positions—a king who could become a prisoner, a princess who could become a casualty of war. It occurred to Dinah that her war might not be over once the king was dead. There would be many sacrifices made in order to win, and many of them would make the pillars of Wonderland society very unhappy. Dinah tucked the scroll into her tunic.
“I will think on your demands, Sir Starey. For now I would encourage you to take a needed rest and sober up. We have much planning to do. We will meet back here this evening, just after dinner is served.”
The war council rose to its feet and bowed before Dinah exited the tent. Cheshire trailed behind her. Dinah handed the scroll to him. “Please look over these and make sure there are no tricky loopholes. Return it to me so that I may look over it again by tonight.”
Cheshire rested his hand on her shoulder. “You did well in there, my queen. I am so proud of you, as both your humble servant and your father.”
Dinah felt unsure of how to respond and so she strode away from him, toward Morte, who stood waiting for her beside her long white tent, which someone had haphazardly painted with a red slashed heart. “I’m going for a short ride to clear my head. Please have it read when I return.”
Cheshire bowed, a feline smile stretching across his thin face. “Nothing would please me more, Your Majesty.”
“Sir Gorrann!”
“Yes?”
“Please join me for a short ride.”
Cheshire’s smile disappeared. Sir Gorrann gave her a half salute with his hand. “With pleasure. I need to fetch Cyndy.”
Morte began to nip at the tent as he pawed the ground impatiently. His hooves brought ripples up from the grassy surface, where the water underneath sloshed and bubbled. “I’ll meet you at the blighted ponds. He cannot wait.”
Dinah bowed her head with reverence once she reached Morte, and he lifted his leg for her to vault onto his back. Morte ran with abandon for the blighted ponds. Dinah relished the damp wind on her face as they flew across the wet valley. The ponds were not far, which was convenient, for it was where the army drew their water. Alongside the clear, delicious pools of perfectly cool water, there were other ponds, the blighted ponds. She had seen them almost every day in the Darklands and even now stared at them with amazement. The murky pinkish waters were topped with a foamy froth that looked delicious, but smelled atrocious. Every now and then a creamy, shimmering bubble would rise up from the fathoms below. Bordering on the edge of the moss, the bubble would creep a few feet over the ground and then float slowly toward the nearest living creature. They were easy to avoid if one watched out for them, for they drifted at a snail’s pace; but if they touched the skin, as one unfortunate Yurkei warrior had found out, they burst open, bathing the unfortunate victim in a warm splash of effervescent pink. Seconds later, skin, blood, and veins would begin to turn white and harden. The warrior was left petrified within minutes, a creamy pink bubble formed over his lips. The Yurkei had been afraid to touch him to give him a proper burial, and so they had left his body behind in the ponds. The next day when they had returned to gather water, the warrior’s body was gone, and in its place was a new rosy pocket of water. It had consumed him, and he had become whatever had eaten him from the inside.