Blood of Wonderland (Queen of Hearts Saga #2)(51)
“I’m just going for a short walk through the tents.”
“You may not go alone.”
“I won’t. I’ll have Morte with me.”
The guard glanced up at the massive beast that had trotted over to greedily consume the sugar cubes. The bone spikes that protruded from his hooves were as white as the moon in the flickering torchlight.
“Are you sure, my lady?”
Dinah touched his shoulder. “It’s just a walk, I promise. I’ll be back in half an hour. I’ll just be inside the Yurkei camp.”
Normally the guards would not let her out of their sight unless she had a protector—Sir Gorrann or Wardley or Cheshire would serve well enough—but what could these men do that Morte could not? Dinah began strolling up and down the rows, first through the black Spade tents, which reeked strongly of men, ripe sweat, and ale. Loud snores filled the narrow grassy corridors, and Dinah smiled at each resonating snort. She lightly touched the tent flaps as she walked by, lingering on how close she felt to these soldiers. These men would fight and die for her, even if they weren’t sure about her ability as queen. They believed in her, in her claim for the throne, but most important they believed she would acknowledge their rights. Whatever the reason, she would appreciate every sleepy sound that came from their filthy mouths. After the battle, there would be far fewer voices to hear.
A large field separated the Yurkei tents from the Spades. Morte galloped across it with abandon and waited impatiently for her on the other side. The Yurkei tents were vastly different from the Spade tents. The Yurkei tents were circular and white, utterly without color or flags. They hovered above the ground, buoyed up by thin wooden reeds.
The night was still and damp, the stars clustered in one small corner of the sky. Just out of the corner of her vision, Dinah caught the slightest flickering of purple light. She blinked. It was still there, a flash in the dark, a glow where there shouldn’t be, pulsating from between two tents. Taking a few steps back, Dinah walked close to the line of white structures and peered between two that were situated abnormally close together. Between the two tents sat another, only this tent was almost a perfect circle—a sphere with a wide bottom, balancing precariously on two long wooden poles. Hazy lapis light pushed out from the tent. A trail of bluish lavender smoke exited through a hole in the top of the tent, winding and curling in on itself. Morte gave a loud snort and began bucking unhappily. The ground shook when his massive hooves met it, and she feared he would wake the entire army. Dinah reached for him.
“Shhh . . . shhhh . . . it’s okay.” Morte yanked back from her touch and galloped a few feet before he knelt to the ground. He stared at her accusingly. Dinah turned back to the tent, her curiosity piqued. This was the tent of Iu-Hora, the Caterpillar, the alchemist who created the incredible medicines that healed the Yurkei so quickly. He had potions and herbs for every ailment, several of which Dinah had used in her time at Hu-Yuhar. He was said to be many things—mad, a genius, an evil incarnation of the Yurkei’s power and myth. Some said he hatched from a cocoon, others that he was brought down to the tribe by cranes. Each Yurkei either loved or feared him, dependent upon whether or not his medicines had been used to save their lives. Either way, he was guarded fiercely from the rest of Wonderland by the Yurkei. It was said that he held the secrets to the world within the confines of his pipe.
Recently, Dinah had heard whispers that Mundoo had sent Iu-Hora south with Dinah so that his potions might be used to sway the opinions of the Spades if needed. It hadn’t been, but the idea that one could drug an army into doing one’s bidding was disturbing. Dinah blinked in the hypnotic light, unsure of how long she had been staring at the tent. It reminded her of a glistening, opulent blueberry, and she found herself drifting toward it, not unlike her reaction in the mushroom field. Stop it! she told herself. Be wise! She spun on her heels to leave when a soft voice beckoned from the darkness, sweet like honey and heavy like wool.
“Come to me, Dinah, my child! Let me know who you are.”
Morte gave a snort of unhappiness from across the field. The tent pulsed again with the light and Dinah found herself taking the steps up the wooden platform and entering. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the strange light, which she realized was coming from a large hookah pipe in the middle of the tent. It was almost as tall as Dinah herself. The glass of the hookah was transparent and, inside, silver-and-blue-veined leaves flickered and glowed. A thick smoke filled her eyes and lungs, and she instantly began to cough and choke.
“Take a deep breath, little queen. Let it fill you. Only then will you be able to see and hear your future. Or answer the question who are you?”
Her eyes cloudy, Dinah was barely able to see the outline of the massively fat Yurkei man who sat perched on a pile of bright pillows. His girth hung over the sides of the cushions, and only a yellow feather loincloth stood between her and his complete nakedness. His skin was dark and shiny and, unlike most Yurkei, completely unmarked by white lines. On the side of the tent, hundreds of clay pots and hanging scales all clamored for space. Iu-Hora noticed her staring with interest at his work.
“The Darklands have provided a most bountiful crop on which to experiment. I have already made three new potions since we’ve been here! One for rashes, one for aging eyes, and one for . . . well, you don’t need to know that. You’ll see.”
She looked over at him again, but was unable to make out his face. It kept shifting and changing, but that was just the hazy light, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? She was very confused. Dinah felt the smoke make its way into her lungs, and a pleasant warm sensation began to stir under her rib cage. She was feeling very light, very free, very happy.