Hatter

by Daniel Coleman

  As the newest Elite in the squadron, Chism rode at the rear of the column. He loved traveling as part of such a precise unit. Even on travel days, the Elites maintained discipline, guiding their horses in neatly arranged lines.

  Brito, a small border city, came into view after a four-hour ride, but it was still more than an hour away. The outlying portions of Maravilla were organized into Provinces that surrounded the interior of the kingdom. The king’s soldiers worked with Provincial militias to keep the peace. But recently, incursions of the Western Domain put a strain on the kingdom’s resources, causing tension between the Provinces and the interior. Local nobles felt the king and council didn’t take sufficient measures to protect the Provinces, even though the Provinces served as a protective buffer for Palassiren, the capital.

  Other than the king and his council, who lived in the capital city of Palassiren, there were few nobles in the interior. In villages and towns of the interior, local watches subdued the occasional unruly drunk and protected against monsters such as barbantulas and bandersnatches.

  Chism’s squadron, or rather Lieutenant Fahrr’s squadron, was newly formed, and tasked with patrolling Far West Province. They had been a day’s march away when Duke Enniel’s family was taken for ransom. Chism himself suggested the daring rescue, anxious to see the children escape harm. Hopefully they wouldn’t be tainted by the violence they were forced to witness.

  The clatter of a rickety wagon caught Chism’s attention, and he leaned to see a farmer and mule approaching. A dirty boy, about ten years old, walked barefoot alongside the empty wagon and shouted, “Hurrah! Soldiers!”

  Lieutenant Fahrr brought the column to a halt to question the dumpy man, who looked like a potato bug in a tunic, about happenings in the Province. The Elites and their Fellows maintained two straight columns. Even at the back of the troop, Chism was within hearing distance.

  “How far are you going?” asked Lieutenant Fahrr.

  “Far enough,” answered Potato Bug.

  Shoeless spoke up, “Our farm’s two hours away from Brito. We just sold that whole wagonfull of beets and carrots.”

  “Boy!” said Potato Bug as he slumped off his wagon to cuff the lad’s head.

  Shoeless cringed, moved out of striking range, and rubbed his temple, but kept smiling up at Lieutenant Fahrr.

  “Any sign of raiders or bandits?” asked Lieutenant Fahrr.

  Before Potato Bug could answer, the boy said, “Papa says if raiders ever come to our farm he’ll chop them up and feed them to the pigs.”

  Without hesitating, Potato Bug struck the boy with his mule lash. Shoeless cried out and a spot of blood formed on the back of his course shirt. Chism noticed scars on his arms and neck.

  “That’s the last time,” Chism said as he dismounted. Ander, his Fellow, was right behind him, but Chism reached the farmer first.

  “He’s a boy, not a mule,” Chism said, seizing the oversized insect by his ample jowls.

  His grip was broken as Ander caught him around the waist and pulled him away. Ander couldn’t hold him alone, so more Elites and Fellows dismounted and put hands on Chism.

  The hands were suffocating. Hate for the farmer and revulsion at the physical contact spiked Chism’s fury.

  “Do. Not. Touch. Me.” Chism spoke with too much control in his voice for the situation. He was frozen, worried that if he resisted, Elites and Fellows would be seriously hurt.

  The squadron tentatively released him, but stood alertly between him and Potato Bug. The portly man rubbed his neck, cursing.

  I can overcome them and put a knife in the man’s heart before anyone stops me, he told himself. But it wasn’t worth hurting Elites.

  As Chism considered his options, Potato Bug urged the mule forward, glancing frequently over his shoulder. Chism shouted after him. “If I ever see you again you’re as dead as desert.”

  Ulrik stood with Lieutenant Fahrr. “I tell you, he’s dangerous. He has no control and looks for a fight wherever he goes. He doesn’t belong around people.”

  What did Ulrik know about Chism’s self-control? No one had more discipline. But when someone offended the sacred Circle and Sword, Chism wasn’t afraid to act.

  “Mount up,” ordered Lieutenant Fahrr. The look he gave Chism could have pierced armor.

  Chapter 5

  Groom

  The grassy wabe in the center of Shey’s Orchard was larger than most. Even in winter it was a vigorous green. The sundial at the center, standard to all towns, was partially obscured by a small pavilion decorated with blue and white flowers.

  Hatta followed Ollie, who still carried his bow, to Tjaden’s brother’s house. It was a small, red-brick home that faced the wabe. They walked in without announcing themselves. Tjaden sat in the front room at the dining table. He was dressed in a uniform like his Fellow’s, but with the Circle and the Sword embroidered on the chest.

  “You gonna make it?” Ollie asked, slapping Tjaden’s back.

  He nodded. “I’ve waited this long, what’s four more hours?”

  He noticed Hatta and stood, extending his hand. Hatta grasped it and said proudly, “Tjaden.”

  “I’m…Yes, I’m Tjaden. And you are?”

  “I’m Hatta. I’m glad I’ve found you. I’ve meant to tell you something.”

  Tjaden waited but Hatta couldn’t remember. Tjaden jousted Jabberwocky. It was as good a place as any to start. “Why did you kill the Jabberwocky?”

  Tjaden looked puzzled. “That’s what you wanted to say? No one’s ever asked me. To be honest, I had to. He kidnapped Elora, my wife-to-be.”

  “And how did you find him?”

  “Captain Darieus told me where his lair was.”

  How could he put this in different words? “What I mean is, how was he?”

  “The Jabberwocky? Manxome. Dangerous. Intimidating.”

  “That’s still not what I meant to ask.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “How was he? Like ‘How are you?’ or ‘How do?’ I heard you talked to him.”

  Tjaden glared at his friend. “Who could have told him that, Ollie?”

  Ollie shrugged innocently and sat, leaning his bow against the side of the table. Compared to Tjaden he looked undersized in his uniform. Ollie smalley. Hatta repeated it five times in his head then asked, “What did the Jabberwocky say?”

  “Have a seat, Hatta.”

  He sat across from Tjaden but stayed focused. “What did he say?” Hatta always knew what animals were thinking, but hadn’t ever heard one talk.

  Tjaden’s still looked skeptical, but said, “I felt his words through my whole body. Powerful is the only way I can explain his voice.”

  “What was good in the creature?”

  “Why do you ask that?” Tjaden studied Hatta.

  “Everyone—every animal, tree, insect, and stone must be at least partly good.” Without thinking he added, “Even Brune.”

  “After what he did to you last night, you still feel—“

  “That’s it! Yes, that’s what I came for to tell. I regret ruining your celebration.”

  “Don’t mention it. It wasn’t your fault, and Brune got what he deserved.”

  The turn in the conversation made Hatta nervous so he asked. “Do you talk to any other animals?”

  “You change topics more often than the Cheshire Cat.”

  “The who?”

  “Never mind, I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

  “Did you say Cheshire Cat?” Hatta didn’t think he’d ever heard of such a creature. “Wildcat, bobcat, pussycat, copycat, caterpillar, cattails. Yes, I think I’ve never heard of a Cheshire Cat.”

  Tjaden sighed. “I think the two of you would get along perfectly.”

  “Do you?” Hatta was intrigued. “When can you introduce me? Us. And exactly what kind of cat is a Cheshire Cat?”

  “He’s not a cat at all; at least that’s what he says. He talks in riddles and never gives a straight answer. I don�
��t think he’s right in the head.”

  Hatta had to meet him. “Is he near?”

  Tjaden shook his head. “I met him on the road to the Tumtum tree. A day and a half out of Palassiren I came to a fork in the road. He was perched in a tree there.”

  Hatta stood, prepared to seek the Cheshire Cat, but was almost sure it would be considered a mad thing to do. Sometimes trying to fit in chafed him.

  A man entered and Hatta stood to greet him. “How do? I’m Hatta.”

  “Hannon. I’m Tjaden’s brother. I remember you from last night.”

  Hatta forced a smile. “Tjaden has assured me all is fine as feathers. I do believe we’ve struck up a friendship.” He turned to Tjaden. “Your betrothed has a curiously white dress. Whiter than most whites I’ve seen.”

  Tjaden’s face came alive.

  Ollie groaned. “Now you’ve done it. He’ll spend the next four hours explaining that it’s because Elora’s wearing it, that he’s the luckiest man in the kingdom, that he can’t believe today is finally here. Trust me, it’ll be unbearable.”

  “Someday you’ll understand, my friend,” said Tjaden, still smiling. “It’s too bad you can’t marry that bow of yours.”

  Their banter gave Hatta the opportunity to slip out. He walked the short distance to the wabe trying to figure out how Tjaden could be such a violent person, an Elite soldier, and yet love so strongly. As if he switched love and hate at will, caring deeply for his betrothed one day and hating someone the next day enough to kill.

  He pitied the soldier groom. Putting on a masquerade of happiness day after day was taxing, but at least Hatta wasn’t two different people in the same body, like Tjaden. Maybe someday he could accept who he was and not have to make pretenses.

  Without realizing it, Hatta had reclined on the lush grass of the wabe. A curious tove approached. Its spindly nose, more like a feeler, reached out to examine Hatta.

  “And how is this fine day treating you?” Hatta asked.

  The tove, which resembled a scaly-skinned badger, grunted and pawed the grass lightly. Not happy about being kicked out of home.

  Hatta glanced at the sundial behind the pavilion. The toves must have been evicted when it was set up.

  “Don’t worry. A few more hours and you’ll have your happy abode back.” Hatta smiled at the tove and reached out to feel its snaky skin. He found it smoother than it appeared, like leather.

  Hungry.

  The tove waddled off on short, scaly legs leaving Hatta to wonder how a snake and a badger would mate to produce such a curious animal. He spent the hour considering and conversing with the animals in the wabe—cardinals, borogoves, a mouse, and more wandering toves. When guests arrived for the wedding, he stopped talking to them.

  From the time people started to gather until the happy couple stood in front of Tellef—he hardly had to use the shelf memory trick any more—very little time passed. Hatta remained at the back of the congregation and concentrated on not doing anything out of the ordinary.

  He grew restless during the ceremony and turned his attention to a pair of raths that rooted in the grass nearby. The green, pig-like animals moved irritably, huffing to themselves.

  As Tellef neared the end of his discourse, Hatta watched the raths, willing them to come closer. It must have worked because one of the petulant animals roamed to within touching distance.

  Under the guise of adjusting the laces of his boot, Hatta bent and whispered, “Why so uffish?”

  As the animal turned to face him, Hatta heard Tellef ask, “Do you, Tjaden and Elora, accept one another as husband and wife?”

  But Hatta never heard the lovers’ answer, for just at that moment the rath outgrabe loudly—a bellowing whistle combined with a strident sneeze. Hatta turned bright red and looked around, but to his pleasure no one stared or pointed at him. They chuckled at the timing of the rath, and clapped for the newly married couple, but no one realized Hatta had instigated the disruption.

  Why do I subject myself to these situations? he wondered.

  The blush faded from his face and Hatta snuck away from the wabe before being compelled to attend any more festivities.

  Chapter 6

  Turmoil

  The liquid metal rolled silently across Hatta’s palm. It flattened momentarily after rolling off and landing on his other hand, then tightened into a bead. It was much heavier than water, so much so that he could feel the weight of the droplet on his palm. Passing it back and forth a few more times, he wondered how metal could be liquid. Though the small vat of molten tin to his right was metal, it had been heated. Mercury was liquid in his hand. It looked like metal and acted like metal when mixed in a compound, but Hatta was unconvinced.

  Perhaps it’s putting on a front. Acts one way, while trying to hide the turmoil underneath.

  When he woke up that morning, Hatta knew he would never save the kingdom—definitely a blue day. Not like a bluebell or a sparkling lake, but steel blue like a cloudy winter morning. It was difficult to make it through such days, but there was hope. If things went according to plan, he would soon create again.

  One part mercury, four parts tin. Hatta poured the vial of mercury into the smelted tin and stirred the mixture. Using a measuring ladle, he scooped the mixture onto glass in flat molds. The polished liquid spread to fill every nook and corner. He wanted to touch the reflective surface as he had done with the mercury, but knew he would burn himself and risk marring the perfect lining.

  Master Aker entered the workshop and examined Hatta’s work. The mercury mirrors were the clearest mirror they made, a significant improvement over plain tin mirrors. In other parts of the kingdom silver mirrors were available, but they were much too expensive for a town like Shey’s Orchard.

  “You’ve learned quickly, Hatta. I have to admit I was skeptical at first.”

  Hatta smiled. In one week he’d become proficient at the basics of mirror making, and already felt unfulfilled. Almost every mirror Master Aker made was plain—either rectangular or oval with very simple frames. Hatta longed to make something special, something unique.

  “I thank you, Master Aker.”

  “You don’t have to call me Master. You realize that, right?”

  “Yes.” He shrugged and added, “Habit.”

  “I’m fortunate you showed up in town just when I needed help. A hard worker and always cheerful.”

  Hatta was relieved to be seen as happy. He didn’t want the struggle in his head to show, and a cheerful persona came easiest to him. Whatever madness he felt had to be veiled. Mad people caused problems. Conflict. And Hatta couldn’t abide conflict.

  “Master Aker, a favor?”

  “Sure, Hatta. What is it?”

  “I’d like to make some mirrors.”

  Master Aker glanced at Hatta’s day’s work with a confused look.

  Hatta said, “No, I’d like to make some mirrors of my own making. I have…ideas.”

  “If you buy your own supplies, I have no problem with you using the shop in the evenings.”

  Hatta was thrilled. “Oh perfect! And I can sell them in your shop? You can keep the money, of course.”

  “If you sell any mirrors we’ll split the money. But I have to warn you, people in Shey’s Orchard are very conservative. Even the merchants that come from the Provinces are only interested in simple designs. I traveled to Palassiren last year and saw some fine work, most of it very stylized. But folks in the city are different than here.”

  Hatta barely heard the warning for he was already planning his designs. His reservations about the day were gone. After all, his mirrors just might be the key to saving the kingdom. He liked the sound of that. His mirrors.

  That night he poured over his sketches under the flicker of lamplight. Filled with inspiration, he created new and wonderful designs no one had ever imagined. The sun had set hours before, but Hatta was energized. When his ideas for designs began to dry up, he started constructing a new frame. This one would be neit
her square nor oval. It would be new. It would be his.

  As he worked on the frame the workshop grew brighter. His inspiration filled the workshop with radiance, and he felt someday it would fill the world.

  His exhilaration was disturbed by the sound of the door opening. Who would come into the workshop in the middle of the night? he wondered.

  “Have you been at this all night?” asked Master Aker.

  Hatta didn’t know what he meant. Why was Master Aker out of bed when he should be sleeping? In the brilliant jumble of mirror ideas, he couldn’t find an answer.

  “Hatta? Have you slept at all?”

  He shook his head. “Why would I…” Hatta couldn’t tell if the light in the workshop was a result of his superlative creativity or if the sun had risen.

  “If you’re going to do your own projects, you’ve got to be ready to work in the morning. You’re no good to me falling asleep all day.”

  “Yes, I…” Reality was fading, a worse reality trying to take its place. They merged and he couldn’t tell exactly what was real. With downcast eyes he said, “I had no idea.”

  With a sigh Master Aker muttered, “Just when I think…,” but he didn’t finish the thought. “Get a couple hours sleep, Hatta. I’ll wake you when Tonin arrives.”

  Hatta felt like he would never need sleep again, but in no way would he argue with Master Aker. In his bed, in the small quarters at the back of the workshop, the image of his first mirror filled his mind and his joy made sleep elusive. He must have dozed eventually because Master Aker’s knock woke him a short while later.

  Tonin waited in the shop, inspecting the mirrors he had purchased. The burly merchant traveled from Far West Province to towns throughout the southern half of the kingdom, trading with craftsmen, and selling supplies along the way.

  Hatta wrapped a dozen mirrors in the sheepskins Tonin provided, secured them with twine, then carried each one to the wagon. In the meantime Master Aker and Tonin bartered for the supplies. Hatta was thrilled to see two large vials of mercury among the wares; a good portion of it would be used in his mirrors.