The wolves attacked en masse, in a wave of frothing muzzles and slashing claws. They ran at the tree, biting at the branches as they swished by, and threw themselves at the trunk, trying to pull themselves up by their claws to get at Alice’s high perch. All the tree’s limbs went into action, like a great leafy octopus, slamming the creatures back or wrapping around them and flinging them aside. Their claws and teeth did no more than slash the bark of her mighty wooden partner, while its awesome strength wreaked havoc.

Soon the wounded were creeping out of the melee, backing away, hopping down from the planter and out of range of the branches, but Alice didn’t intend to let them go so easily. The soil at the base of the tree foamed and sprouted hundreds of tiny white tendrils, snaking outward like eyeless worms. The wolves snapped at them, severing a few only to find dozens of others wrapping around their legs and paws. When a strand got a hold, it started to thicken into a more substantial root, growing faster than the desperate animal could chew through it.

It seemed like only moments had passed, but the battle was over. A few wolves retreated through the open doorway, but the rest were helpless; hurled about by the branches and now webbed over by a thick matting of tree roots that covered every inch of the stone floor like a living carpet. Alice, riding a branch, did a full circle of the tree and smiled in satisfaction.

A shadow blocked the doorway, obscuring the lanterns in the corridor outside.

“I am getting awfully sick of you,” Torment said.

He pushed into the room, carefully, only just able to fit through the doorway. The roots he trod on crunched and splintered under his weight.

“I am beginning to think,” he went on, “that my dear sister has played me false. Perhaps she sent you here to make certain everything went wrong? Or perhaps she simply underestimated you.” He took another long step forward. “Either way, I am going to very much enjoy tearing out your throat.”

The roots sprang at him, hundreds of tendrils wrapping around all four of his paws. They thickened as quickly as she could make them grow, into tough, finger-sized vines. Torment looked down, then back up at Alice.

“And what do you expect this to accomplish? You think you’re going to stop me with a plant?” Torment raised his forepaw. There was a moment of strain as the roots struggled to hold him in place, but the black wolf’s strength was immense. With a chorus of cracks and pops, the restraining tendrils snapped and shredded.

“I am a labyrinthine,” Torment said as he ripped another paw free. “Do you have any idea what that means, girl? We are the true masters of this world, the lords of creation, and if not for you humans and your books—”