Dinah kept quiet as she looked down at the throngs of people below, Mundoo’s warm hand against the back of her head. Nothing he said was untrue.
“Executing you, your Spade, and your steed would be the easiest course of action. But I think that we can find a better use for you. How much do you know of your kingdom as it currently stands?”
“I know that the city is restless because of raised taxes. I know that my father is growing ever more paranoid and that he is amassing the Cards in great numbers; for what purpose, I am unsure. I know that he has placed Vittiore, his puppet, on the throne next to him, and that he rules with an ever-harder iron fist. He is preparing for something, but it is of little concern to me. I am no longer a member of the royal family. I am now simply a girl who has no home.”
Mundoo smiled. “If only I could believe that. I hear your sister is very beautiful, with hair like the sun.”
“And a mind like mud,” replied Dinah, sharper than she intended. “She does nothing that my father does not tell her to do. Vittiore could not rule over an anthill.”
“Interesting. But your father, he is a clever man, no?”
Dinah thought of how her father had beheaded Faina Baker right in front of her just to teach her to not put her nose where it didn’t belong. “He is intelligent, yes. He is a skilled fighter, but he is also brutal and unforgiving, and a drunk. It has made him slow in recent years. He is full of hatred, for reasons I do not understand. The cleverest man in the palace is Cheshire. Most of the decisions my father makes come from him.” In her mind’s eye, Dinah saw Charles’s tiny body crumpled under a starry sky. Her voice rose. “I have nothing but hatred for the King. I would gladly take his life. I attempted to in the Twisted Wood until the Spade intervened.”
“So I have heard.” Mundoo stared at her, his unflinching blue eyes piercing her tingling bones. “I find you very interesting, Dinah, exiled Princess of Wonderland. Stories of your escape from the palace have echoed through this land, even here into Hu-Yuhar, our home. You are called many things: the Queen of Death, the Red Queen, the Rebel Queen, Rider of the Black Devil. Some even say you are a ghost, or an omen of the future….”
“I am no one,” replied Dinah. “I am simply Dinah, an exile who stumbled into your mushroom fields by accident.”
Mundoo raised his eyebrow. “By accident? Yes, that is interesting. No one stumbles into our sacred burial ground by accident. No. Your Spade led you there, though his reasons are yet clear.”
“No, we were…,” Dinah found the words dying on her tongue, and the twinge in her heart told her that Mundoo was right. The Spade had led her there. She had thought they were fleeing the King, perhaps over the mountains to the Other Worlds, but instead, he had taken them east… right into the Yurkei’s hands. “I trusted him,” she gasped, her throat dry and raspy.
Mundoo stood and handed her a small wooden bowl filled with water. “Drink. I insist. It pains me to hear your voice.”
Dinah, feeling humbled, gulped the water noisily.
“You should know not to trust anyone when you possess so much power.”
“I do not possess power,” she answered, wiping her mouth. “I possess a sword, a bag full of filthy clothing, and a horse.”
“Ah, your horse.” Mundoo untied a piece of fabric that was lashed to his glorious throne and the roof of the tent pulled back, like an egg with its shell removed. The sky opened up above them, and the room was filled with the whirling cold wind that had so easily tossed the ladder. Dinah barely had time to duck before a giant white crane flapped into the tent, its huge wings sending bursts of air across her face. The crane landed on the throne and gave a loud squawk at Dinah. Mundoo continued, seemingly oblivious to the dangerous-looking bird. “Morte will be put to death in one week, when the moon is at its fullest. A price must be paid for all of the blood he has taken from this tribe. Believe that I will find no joy in killing a Hornhoov, rare and exquisite creatures that they are, and I have never seen one quite like him.”
“He hasn’t done anything,” Dinah knew it was untrue as soon as the words passed over her tongue.
“No? With my own eyes, I saw him crush three of my best warriors without even a backward glance, at least, not until he came back to taste their flesh.” Dinah remembered the bear, Morte’s muzzle covered with the smear of blood and the way her stomach had turned. “The beast WILL die. And then we shall decide what to do with his rider. I have much to think about. My spies have given me reason to believe that your father is preparing to launch a large assault on my tribe, perhaps bringing the fight here, to Hu-Yuhar, within a few months’ time.”
“But your city seems impregnable. It is surrounded by mountains on every side.”
Mundoo smiled as the crane rested its head on his knee. “So one would think, but I do not underestimate your father. We have our weaknesses, just like any city. But that is for me to consider. For now, you will stay here as our guest. You will attend our feasts and ceremonies, and I would encourage you to talk with our tribe, to learn. You may not leave the valley, and you may not enter any homes. You are to keep up your training with the Spade, and I will command my strongest warrior to help give you instruction and build your skills. You are not to go near Morte, lest we call for your blood instead of his. And if he suddenly disappears or is set free, you die, along with the Spade. I will make you watch as we take him piece by piece.”
“Where is Sir Gorrann?”
“He will be waiting for you back at your tent. We spoke earlier this morning, and he handled the climb even worse than you did.” Dinah’s mouth curved into the smallest of smiles as Mundoo strolled up behind her. At least Sir Gorrann was alive. “We will speak again, Princess, but for now you must go. You have met your guards, Ki-ershan and Yur-Jee. They will follow you wherever you go. I would encourage you not to stray from their sight. Yur-Jee lost his eldest son to your father’s Heartsword, so I would be careful not to anger him. Passion can lead a man to violent ways.”
Dinah nodded and turned to go. The sunlight winked in front of her face, just for a second, and then there was an arm around her neck, a body pressed against her back. Mundoo had moved so fast. Dinah didn’t understand what was happening. The pain came swiftly as something sharp and hard was shoved into her, through her. Her shoulder exploded, and everything went white. She grasped his outstretched hand, where she saw a thin wooden knife made of the same white wood that held the tent aloft. It was as slender as a knitting needle, and now covered with red. Mundoo took a breath and shoved it into her back again, just over her shoulder blade. He was killing her. She didn’t feel it going in, but the pain when it was pulled out was worse than anything she had ever felt. Dinah let out a muffled scream as the blood rushed forth over her shoulder. The pain was deep, like a thousand scalding irons were being pushed inside of her. She stumbled backward before falling to her knees with a choking gasp. Mundoo knelt behind her and wrapped his thick arm around her neck again, his lips brushing her ear as he pulled her close. Dinah gurgled and choked. His hand was covered in blood.
“Don’t be afraid, Princess. It’s not a fatal wound I’ve given you, and it will heal quickly. You will not die, you have my word. That was for swinging your sword at my head. I am the noble Chief of the Yurkei and a man of honor, but I wouldn’t want you to think that we were friends, or that you can escape from my watchful eye. Though you are exiled, you are still the seed of my enemy, and I won’t forget it, not until I have justice for my people.” His hot breath lingered over her face. Dinah’s shoulder felt as if the muscles were detaching, strand by tiny strand. She let out a cry and he smiled. “I’m sorry to cause you such pain, but I must leave you with a reminder not to betray me. The Yurkei have been hunted, executed, and tortured under the red heart of Wonderland. Your blood is but a small drop in the bucket that must be filled before justice is served. We are a peaceful people, but like sleeping serpents, we will strike when someone steps too close, and the Kings and Queens of Wonderland Palac
e have stomped on us for decades. I am an honorable man, but not a safe one.” He released her violently, and she fell face forward onto the wooden floor of the tent, writhing in pain. The Chief called for Ki-ershan and Yur-Jee, and they appeared through one of the open flaps of the tent door.
“Take her through the mountain,” Mundoo instructed with a wave of his hand. “Make sure no one hurts her or the Spade until I have made a decision regarding their fates. Feed, clean, and clothe them. See that they are well cared for, but closely watched. Call for Ge-Jursi to use Iu-Hora’s potions to heal her.” Dinah’s whole body curled up in blinding pain as she cried out. Yur-Jee raised his voice to argue with the Chief, but Mundoo silenced him with a raised hand. “Do as I command. Ach-julik.”
Yur-Jee bowed with his hands spread out before him into the symbol of the crane. Dinah’s guards clamped their hands around her arms and pulled her out through one of the tent’s open doors. Her shoulder felt as though it had been set on fire. She gasped for air, unable to breathe through the pain. They pushed her out onto the rope walkway that led into the breast of the crane. Dinah stumbled repeatedly, which made walking on the thin, knotted-rope walkway even more terrifying. Blood dripped down from her shoulder until it coated her bare feet, and she struggled to stay conscious. She slipped. Ki-ershan pressed his bare hand over the wound to stop the bleeding. Dinah could see the ground hundreds and hundreds of feet below her as they struggled to stay on the thin rope bridge. The crowd watched her in silence as drops of blood fell from her body. They seemed satisfied.
“Walk,” grunted Yur-Jee, roughly pushing her forward, so hard that Dinah would have gone flying off the edge if Ki-ershan hadn’t yanked her back. “Ja-hohy!” he snapped at Yur-Jee. Stop, thought Dinah, half-delusional. Yes, Ja-hohy means stop. Thank you, Harris, she thought madly.
Something twitched in her shoulder and suddenly it felt as if the bone was separating from her muscle, somewhere deep inside the cut. She gave a scream and stumbled forward, her knees hitting the rock outcropping that led into the mountain. Overjoyed at the cool feel of the stone, she laughed hysterically to have solid ground beneath her, even if she was still in a giant stone bird, hundreds of feet above the ground. The urge to brush her lips on the mountain was overtaken by a throbbing, angry pain, and she struggled to stay conscious. She heard raised voices and shouting. Sir Gorrann’s face appeared in a hazy blue sky over her, the thin lines of his face creased in worry.
“What did he do to yeh? Dinah, are yeh all right? Dinah! Dinah! Yer Highness, let me see.” His hands cradled her face, her shoulder. The Spade turned her over gently, peeling Ki-ershan’s hand back from the wound, and she heard a sharp intake of breath. “The Chief should not have done this. Why would he do this? Yur-Jee, please get me some bandages and a healer. NOW!”
Dinah closed her eyes. When she opened them again, there was a beautiful Yurkei woman leaning over her, her glowing blue eyes trained on Dinah’s wound, her resplendent white hair soaked red at the tips where it had brushed in her blood. She listened silently as the woman sang a wailing song over her as she rocked back and forth and applied some sort of gray paste to Dinah’s wound. The paste smelled like the mushroom fields—warm and potent, a decadent perfume. The pain suddenly receded into a dull, stabbing sensation, and Dinah breathed a sigh of relief, her hand reaching up to clutch the woman’s shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…,” she repeated it over and over, her tongue becoming numb.
The woman smiled, showing her small pearly teeth. “How do you say… in Wonderlander? Ahh… well… Su-heyg… hu-sang….” The woman clapped her hands. “Oh yes, hu-satey.” Her blue eyes stared unflinchingly into Dinah’s. “WELCOME. Welcome to Hu-Yuhar.”
Chapter Ten
Dinah slept for two days after that, two glorious days on the bed of woven grass, two glorious days of rest. Occasionally, she would be awoken by the pain. She’d eat and relieve herself, before surrendering her consciousness. Sir Gorrann sat quietly beside her bed, always watchful. He must have slept, but Dinah didn’t know when he did, and she didn’t really care. The healing paste made her dreams bright and vivid and joyful. Charles, weaving feathers into a hat. Harris, adjusting his spectacles while they feasted on wine and grapes. Wardley, astride Corning, his brown hair glowing like warm chocolate in the sun, his arms reaching for her. Wardley… she thought of him often in the few minutes between waking and falling back asleep. Wardley, her love, whom she probably would never see again. Wardley the Weak, as he was called now. The shame she felt at tarnishing his name was at times unbearable, so it was easier just to sleep.
When two days had finally passed, Dinah begrudgingly decided that it was time to leave the confines of her warm, cozy tent, though she felt she could stay forever—eating, sleeping, and dreaming. Sir Gorrann roused her early and made sure that she ate a plate of eggs and strange amber fruit. As Dinah bit into the egg, a rush of yellow yolk ran down her chin. She stared at Sir Gorrann, who was devouring his eggs, still famished after the last bite.
“Did you lead me here?” she asked. The Spade wiped his face with a feathered napkin.
“Perhaps. Perhaps it is not yet time to ask.”
Dinah flung her plate across the room with a fury that surprised even herself. Her wound screamed in protest and she let out a tiny whimper. “Why? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? Why would you take us here?”
The Spade stood and brushed off his lap. “I’ll not answer that question for yeh now, not now and not while yeh are acting like a child. But I would say, ask yerself if yeh trust me. Ask if yeh would have survived without me. And when yeh are done, I will take yeh down to the river to bathe because I have never seen anyone look so disgusting, and your wound will need washing and redressing.”
He left the tent without another word. Dinah stewed for a few minutes in the bright white light of the tent. He had led her here. But why? To provide the Yurkei with the revenge they so desired? To ransom her off to the King, who would then kill her? No matter how many situations she came up with, not a single one of them made any sense. The Spade had saved her, protected her, taught her to fight. One did not give one’s enemy a sword and instruct the arm to wield it. The more she considered it, the less sense it made. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t change the fact that she was a well-rested hostage of the Yurkei tribe who had been stabbed by the Chief. Mundoo had stabbed her. Dinah remembered the venom in his voice, the anger that had bubbled up beneath his wise speeches.
She sat and considered for a few minutes. Sleep had made her a new person, one who had the capacity to think instead of just surviving hour to hour. She could bathe, but not alone if she wanted to wash her wound, which felt sticky and burning hot. Finally, with a cry of pain and a stream of curses that would make the Spade proud, Dinah righted herself and pulled a tunic over her head. She ducked out of the tent to find Ki-ershan waiting for her. He nodded his head toward a dirt path that ran behind her tent. “Thank you,” she whispered. He smiled back at her. Ki-ershan was definitely her favorite of the two guards. He followed behind as Dinah proceeded to walk slowly down the path until she arrived at a tiny freshwater stream that ran the length of the valley. Her wound still pulsed with pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain she remembered from the wooden knife. Sir Gorrann waited for her at a bend in the trail, and they walked together in silence toward the bank.
She stopped at the stream and stared into the water. It was small, barely ten feet across, but it gurgled and danced in the morning sun, its water so clear that it was almost like looking in a mirror. Dinah had thought she had no embarrassment left after being paraded through the valley in her bright red tunic and then forced to climb the ladder into the sky, but she had been wrong. In the shiny blue stream, there were hundreds of Yurkei bathing, playing, and washing clothing. The women all bathed naked, their perfect lean bodies glistening in the sun, their skin smooth like rich tea. Dinah saw Sir Gorrann glance away, a red flush rising in his cheeks. Dinah slowly undressed herself, t
rying to cover all that she could with her tunic before lowering herself quickly into the icy water with a wince as it converged on her wound. All eyes watched her as she came up, no doubt disgusted at this pale, bruised creature with black hair and the darkest eyes they had ever seen. The intense cold took her breath away and she immediately started shivering. A strange gray paste seeped from the wound. Sir Gorrann climbed in after her, struggling to cover himself as well, giving his own gasp at the cold water. He dunked his head and then emerged, shaking the water out of his gray hair. He then began to scrub her wound with fervor. The moment was anything but intimate, as they were both freezing and working as quickly as possible.
Sir Gorrann raised his voice to whisper in her ear. “Yer wound… it’s almost healed. Amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Indeed, he was correct—her wound was healing nicely after two days of rest, and whatever healing paste had been put on it had sealed it shut. Her shoulder had a constant ache, and when she raised her arms there was a thin slice of pain, but Mundoo had kept his word—the wound would not kill her. He had left her a scar, a remembrance of him. Dinah watched as the clean water around her became cloudy with the dirt and muck scrubbed from her skin. There was something in the gentle way the Spade touched her shoulder, something that made Dinah realize that even though he had led them into the mouth of the Yurkei, she deeply trusted him. He would never hurt her, she knew it instinctively; the same way she knew the stars would change each night. Sir Gorrann cursed the Chief as he scrubbed at the bloody wound.
Queen of Hearts: Volume Two: The Wonder Page 11