“Better have the Vorpal Sword in hand, that’s all I can say.”
Luke laughed, but I stared fascinated at the device which looked as if it were made of moth wings and folded moonlight.
Then I heard the burbling again.
“Don’t just stand there in uffish thought!” said the Cat, draining Humpty’s glass and vanishing again.
Still chuckling, Luke held out his tankard for a refill. I stood there in uffish thought: The spell I had used to destroy the Bandersnatch had altered my thinking in a peculiar fashion. It seemed for a small moment in its aftermath that things were beginning to come clear in my head. I attributed this to the image of the Logrus which I had regarded briefly. And so I summoned it again.
The Sign rose before me, hovered. I held it there. I looked upon it. It seemed as if a cold wind began to blow through my mind. Drifting bits of memory were drawn together, assembled themselves into an entire fabric, were informed with understanding. Of course…
The burbling grew louder and I saw the shadow of the Jabberwock gliding among distant trees, eyes like landing lights, lots of sharp edges for biting and catching…
And it didn’t matter a bit. For I realized now what was going on, who was responsible, how and why.
I bent over, leaning far forward, so that my knuckles just grazed the toe of my right boot.
“Luke,” I said, “we’ve got a problem.”
He turned away from the bar and glanced down at me.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Those of the blood of Amber are capable of terrific exertions. We are also able to sustain some pretty awful beatings. So, among ourselves, these things tend to cancel out to some degree. Therefore, one must go about such matters just right if one is to attend to them at all…
I brought my fist up off the floor with everything I had behind it, and I caught Lake on the side of the jaw with a blow that lifted him above the ground as it turned him and sent him sprawling across a table which collapsed, to continue sliding backward the length of the entire serving area where he finally came to a crumpled halt at the feet of the quiet Victorian-looking gentleman-who had dropped his paintbrush and stepped away quickly when Luke came skidding toward him. I raised my tankard with my left hand and poured its contents over my right fist, which felt as if I had just driven it against a mountainside. As I did this the lights grew dim and there was a moment of utter silence.
Then I slammed the mug back onto the bartop. The entire place chose that moment in which to shudder, as if from an earth tremor. Two bottles fell from a shelf; a lamp swayed, the burbling grew fainter. I glanced to my left and saw that the eerie shadow of the Jabberwock had retreated somewhat within the tulgey wood. Not only that, the painted section of the prospect now extended a good deal farther into what had seemed normal space, and it looked to be continuing its advance in that direction, freezing that corner of the world into flat immobility. It became apparent from whiffle to whiffle that the Jabberwock was now moving away, to the left, hurrying ahead of the flatness. Tweedledum, Tweedledee, the Dodo, and the Frog began packing their instruments.
I started across the bar toward Luke’s sprawled form. The Caterpillar was disassembling his hookah, and I saw that his mushroom was tilted at an odd angle. The White Rabbit beat it down a hole to the rear, and I head Humpty muttering curses as he swayed atop the bar stool he had just succeeded in mounting.
I saluted the gentleman with the palette as I approached.
“Sorry to disturb you,” I said. “But believe me, this is for the better.”
I raised Luke’s limp form and slung him over my shoulder. A flock of playing cards flew by me. I dew away from them in their rapid passage.
“Goodness! It’s frightened the Jabberwock!” the man remarked, looking past me.
“What has?” I asked, not really certain that I wished to know.