His ears stiff with alarm, the veins in his skull pulsing faster than usual, Bibwit let his hearing guide him. He followed the sound of their voices through half the palace, at last rounded the corner and saw them—Alyss at the threshold of her mother’s quarters, Dodge stepping rather proudly toward the guardsman’s balcony that overlooked the courtyard. He hurried up to the queen and spoke with breathless urgency.
“Alyss, Glass Eyes have entered the city. They’re on our streets.” “On our…?”
“And there’s something else. The Crystal Continuum—” She didn’t give him time to say more, turning her imagination’s gaze on Genevieve Square, where Wonderlanders were being launched out of looking glasses with such speed that they smashed through shop windows, upset tarty tart carts, knocked unsuspecting shoppers to the ground, and sent skittish spirit-danes galloping off uncontrollably with their riders. On the corner of Tyman Street and Wondertropolis Way, Alyss watched as a smail-transport in the midst of boarding its passengers was slammed on its side by a knot of Wonderlanders jettisoned from the continuum. And even Wondronia Grounds—normally the site of so much pleasure—was not exempt from the hailstorm of Wonderlanders; Alyss witnessed dinners and cocktail parties thrown into disarray as continuum travelers crashed onto tables, bars, dessert carts.
She had to defend her realm with all the imagination she possessed. The sooner Redd and her Glass Eyes were put down, the less opportunity Dodge would have of succumbing to revenge, of risking his life for the sake of killing.
“Don’t tell Dodge,” she said, and sprinted down the hall. Bibwit stared after her for several moments, worried that she might not yet be ready to again battle her aunt, when—
“She was supposed to wait for me.”
Dodge. Surprisingly, and not a little ashamed of it, Bibwit had been too absorbed with thoughts of Glass Eyes to hear the guardsman emerge from the balcony. “Who was?” he managed. “Alyss.”
“Oh, was she here? I’ve been looking for her myself.” From the folds of his robe, Bibwit retrieved the menu of the Lobster Quadrille, his favorite restaurant in the city. “I have a pardon that needs her signature.”
Dodge squinted, suspicious. “Is that right? With your acute hearing, Bibwit, you can usually find anyone you like.”
Bibwit considered running off. He had never been a good liar. The only way to keep news of the Glass Eyes’ invasion from Dodge would be to avoid the young fellow’s company, for surely the guardsman would pry it out of him otherwise, but—
“Mr. Bibwit, sir! Mr. Bibwit!”
The walrus-butler came waddling toward him from one of the ballrooms.