ones rumbling past hadnât been seen in Wonderland for generations. And as for horses, those beasts of burden were straight out of the history programs Molly was forced to study as part of the Millineryâs classroom curriculum.
Amid the crush of pedestrians coming toward her: a man wearing greatcoat and bowler. She instinctively reached for the brim of her homburg, but he only dipped his head in greeting and continued past. The pedestrians, those in the carriagesâthey all seemed intent on their errands. But she wouldnât be fooled. An attack was imminent. From what quarter, instigated by whom, she couldnât say. But under no circumstances would she lessen her vigilance orâ
A voice rose above the streetâs general clamor: âRead about the carnage in Piccadilly! Death and destruction in Piccadilly! Only a tuppence to read the latest reports!â
A boy was selling newspapers on the corner. Molly walked up to him and he shoved a paper into her hand. The London Times ? Sheâd heard Alyss talk of London. It was a city the Queen had visited during her exile from Wonderland.
âTwo pence,â the boy said.
She didnât have the leisure to find out what he wanted, snapped open a set of wrist-blades to spook him andâ
Seeing that a trivial flick of the wrist produced such a blur of deadly copter blades, he sprinted off. But Molly didnât want to draw too much attention to herself. Not yet. She quickly flicked shut the blades.
The newspaperâs description of the carnage and destruction in Piccadilly read familiar. In the cheese shop hollowed out by an explosion, Molly recognized the aftermath of an orb generator. In witnessesâ clumsy attempts to describe a rifle that coughed bolts of light, she recognized Wonderlandâs crystal shooter and its ammo of bright NRG rods produced by the frizzling together of certain gemstones. And as for the carcasses that looked like pin cushions with legs tucked underneath them, those were easy to identifyâcannonball spiders in the death pose, their brief life spans having run their course, though not, according to the reporter, before the outsized creatures had taken scores of Londoners with them.
A sound like scissor blades rapidly opening and closing.
Mollyâs hand jumped to the brim of her homburg. She scouted the scene.
Nothing. Just Londoners going about their business the same as before. But as she turned her attention back to the newspaperâ
There it was again. Unmistakable: the sound of card soldiers being dealt in preparation for battle. She didnât sight them until Londoners were screaming and running for shelter. Theyâd already unfolded themselves: a flush of soldiers from one of Reddâs decks. Unengaged, they resembled ordinary playing cards, albeit life-sized ones. But engaged for battle as they were now, unfolded to twice their usual height, with limbs of Wonderland steel and a forward lilt to their every movement as if perpetually stalking prey, they presented an undeniably menacing aspect.
âStay calm,â Molly whispered to herself. âStay cool.â
The only way to âkillâ one of Reddâs late-model infantry was to stab it hard in the medallion-sized area above its breast-plate, at the base of its steel-tendoned neck. The knife blade would cut through its vital circuitry and send sparks spurting like fiery blood. Thing was, in the harassment of battle, this kill spot seemed to shrink to the size of a gwormmyâs eye, to aâ
Bolts of NRG shot toward herâ thip thip! thip thip! âfrom the muzzle of a Five Cardâs crystal shooter. Molly whipped the homburg from her head, used it as a trap, hands moving at the speed of a thousand hurrying caterpillar feet as she caught each of the bolts in the hatâs underside. Fwiss!
She sidestepped the swing of a Six Cardâs lance, but only to leap twistingly into the air, barely avoiding an orb
Amid the crush of pedestrians coming toward her: a man wearing greatcoat and bowler. She instinctively reached for the brim of her homburg, but he only dipped his head in greeting and continued past. The pedestrians, those in the carriagesâthey all seemed intent on their errands. But she wouldnât be fooled. An attack was imminent. From what quarter, instigated by whom, she couldnât say. But under no circumstances would she lessen her vigilance orâ
A voice rose above the streetâs general clamor: âRead about the carnage in Piccadilly! Death and destruction in Piccadilly! Only a tuppence to read the latest reports!â
A boy was selling newspapers on the corner. Molly walked up to him and he shoved a paper into her hand. The London Times ? Sheâd heard Alyss talk of London. It was a city the Queen had visited during her exile from Wonderland.
âTwo pence,â the boy said.
She didnât have the leisure to find out what he wanted, snapped open a set of wrist-blades to spook him andâ
Seeing that a trivial flick of the wrist produced such a blur of deadly copter blades, he sprinted off. But Molly didnât want to draw too much attention to herself. Not yet. She quickly flicked shut the blades.
The newspaperâs description of the carnage and destruction in Piccadilly read familiar. In the cheese shop hollowed out by an explosion, Molly recognized the aftermath of an orb generator. In witnessesâ clumsy attempts to describe a rifle that coughed bolts of light, she recognized Wonderlandâs crystal shooter and its ammo of bright NRG rods produced by the frizzling together of certain gemstones. And as for the carcasses that looked like pin cushions with legs tucked underneath them, those were easy to identifyâcannonball spiders in the death pose, their brief life spans having run their course, though not, according to the reporter, before the outsized creatures had taken scores of Londoners with them.
A sound like scissor blades rapidly opening and closing.
Mollyâs hand jumped to the brim of her homburg. She scouted the scene.
Nothing. Just Londoners going about their business the same as before. But as she turned her attention back to the newspaperâ
There it was again. Unmistakable: the sound of card soldiers being dealt in preparation for battle. She didnât sight them until Londoners were screaming and running for shelter. Theyâd already unfolded themselves: a flush of soldiers from one of Reddâs decks. Unengaged, they resembled ordinary playing cards, albeit life-sized ones. But engaged for battle as they were now, unfolded to twice their usual height, with limbs of Wonderland steel and a forward lilt to their every movement as if perpetually stalking prey, they presented an undeniably menacing aspect.
âStay calm,â Molly whispered to herself. âStay cool.â
The only way to âkillâ one of Reddâs late-model infantry was to stab it hard in the medallion-sized area above its breast-plate, at the base of its steel-tendoned neck. The knife blade would cut through its vital circuitry and send sparks spurting like fiery blood. Thing was, in the harassment of battle, this kill spot seemed to shrink to the size of a gwormmyâs eye, to aâ
Bolts of NRG shot toward herâ thip thip! thip thip! âfrom the muzzle of a Five Cardâs crystal shooter. Molly whipped the homburg from her head, used it as a trap, hands moving at the speed of a thousand hurrying caterpillar feet as she caught each of the bolts in the hatâs underside. Fwiss!
She sidestepped the swing of a Six Cardâs lance, but only to leap twistingly into the air, barely avoiding an orb
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