“I know enough.”
“Really? Is that why you don’t seem very curious about them?” “There’s nothing to be curious about,” she said. “Nothing to be…? But don’t you want to know why they gave you up?” “They didn’t give me up!”
She flung herself at him, but her legs refused to obey her, her arms belonged to somebody else, and her head filled with kaleidoscopic jelly. When her wits were again hers, she was back on the mattress. “I apologize,” Arch said. “I should have taken into account how the trials of life can break a family apart for reasons that have nothing to do with ill will or a lack of love in any of its members. With Redd in control of Wonderland as she was, the actions of your parents might have only appeared uncaring, when in fact they were just the opposite—necessary to your survival.” “Uh-huh,” Molly said, hating him.
“Do you, by chance, remember how old you were when you last saw your mother?” She wasn’t going to answer. She would tell this man nothing, especially not that she’d been just three lunar years old when Weaver left the Alyssian camp in the Everlasting Forest and that, if not for the holographic crystal of her mother posing in front of the Unnatural History Museum shortly before Redd’s coup, she wouldn’t even know what the woman looked like. “Her name was Weaver, wasn’t it?”
Molly was startled. “How’d you know that?” He waved off the question. “I’ve hardly begun to astound you, Molly. Not only do I know your mother’s name, I know who your father is. And what’s more, so do you. You’ve already met him.” Molly was so taken aback by all of this that she didn’t hear Arch call for his bodyguards. Shadows fell over her as Ripkins and Blister entered the tent. “Molly wants to know her father’s name,” Arch said to them. “Why don’t we give her a hint?” “His first name rhymes with ‘splatter,’” said Ripkins. “And ‘matter,’” put in Blister.
“Also ‘fatter,’” said Ripkins.
“Likewise ‘chatter,’” added Blister.
“And his surname?” Arch asked.
“It rhymes with ‘that again,’” said Ripkins. “And ‘Flanagan,’” put in Blister.
“Also, um…‘pad a fin’?” offered Ripkins. “Or ‘pan a tin’?” Arch and Blister looked at him.
“Really? Is that why you don’t seem very curious about them?” “There’s nothing to be curious about,” she said. “Nothing to be…? But don’t you want to know why they gave you up?” “They didn’t give me up!”
She flung herself at him, but her legs refused to obey her, her arms belonged to somebody else, and her head filled with kaleidoscopic jelly. When her wits were again hers, she was back on the mattress. “I apologize,” Arch said. “I should have taken into account how the trials of life can break a family apart for reasons that have nothing to do with ill will or a lack of love in any of its members. With Redd in control of Wonderland as she was, the actions of your parents might have only appeared uncaring, when in fact they were just the opposite—necessary to your survival.” “Uh-huh,” Molly said, hating him.
“Do you, by chance, remember how old you were when you last saw your mother?” She wasn’t going to answer. She would tell this man nothing, especially not that she’d been just three lunar years old when Weaver left the Alyssian camp in the Everlasting Forest and that, if not for the holographic crystal of her mother posing in front of the Unnatural History Museum shortly before Redd’s coup, she wouldn’t even know what the woman looked like. “Her name was Weaver, wasn’t it?”
Molly was startled. “How’d you know that?” He waved off the question. “I’ve hardly begun to astound you, Molly. Not only do I know your mother’s name, I know who your father is. And what’s more, so do you. You’ve already met him.” Molly was so taken aback by all of this that she didn’t hear Arch call for his bodyguards. Shadows fell over her as Ripkins and Blister entered the tent. “Molly wants to know her father’s name,” Arch said to them. “Why don’t we give her a hint?” “His first name rhymes with ‘splatter,’” said Ripkins. “And ‘matter,’” put in Blister.
“Also ‘fatter,’” said Ripkins.
“Likewise ‘chatter,’” added Blister.
“And his surname?” Arch asked.
“It rhymes with ‘that again,’” said Ripkins. “And ‘Flanagan,’” put in Blister.
“Also, um…‘pad a fin’?” offered Ripkins. “Or ‘pan a tin’?” Arch and Blister looked at him.