The Motion of Puppets (31 page)

Silenus nickered and trotted off, but he was quickly replaced on the spot by two maenads, one fierce in a leopard skin, one clad in ivy vines and carrying a wicked-looking spear. They blocked the path with crossed arms and deep frowns.

“Ladies,” the Devil said. “Looking lovely as ever—”

“No visitors,” the ivied guard said.

“But he sent for this dear child himself. She's one of the Quatre Mains come to pay her respects.”

The two women conferred, and after some discussion they stepped aside. Kay passed between them, nervously aware of their barely contained fury, as if they might explode when triggered by a false move.

The noise in the room fell away when she saw him again. The man in the glass jar, the
poupée ancienne
from the toy shop window in Québec, now free and alive like the rest of them. He had not changed a bit. Made neither smaller nor taller, he was the puppet with whom she had fallen in love—how long ago was it now? Forever it seemed. He moved slowly and carefully, stepping toward her in the staccato walk of the stringed ones.

“You are the one I knew,” she said.

“And I knew you,” he said. “You would visit me in the window almost every day.”

“I wanted you for myself.”

The Devil whispered behind her ear. “He is very old, the oldest of us all. He is the Original.”

“Are you the first one?” she asked.

“Some say.” The puppet's black eyes blazed to life, and he cast his gaze around the loft swarming with familiars. “I see you've brought almost everyone else from the Quatre Mains to our welcoming party, though I am sad to see that Mr. Firkin did not make it.”

“Oh, he's here,” Kay said. “Down below. He chose not to come tonight. Out of loyalty to the Queen.”

The ancient puppet sighed heavily and looked distraught. “And she would not come. My old friend and foe.”

“She said to beware of the others. Beware of you.”

Around them the maenads began their frenzied dancing and somersaults. The satyrs whooped it up and were chasing any female in the room. The women screamed and the men bellowed. The music grew louder, and spirits emboldened by the celebration lifted and soared. He trembled where he stood. Kay could not believe they were meeting face-to-face at last, someone she was sure she would never see again. And yet, there he was right in front of her, at the center of the world.

*   *   *

When the man with the walrus mustache sneezed, Theo pressed his hand to his chest, certain that he was having a heart attack. He wanted to run away, to retch, to believe anything but what he could see right in front of him. The puppet brushed one finger under its nose and opened its eyes, dumbly staring at him with a sheepish grin, surprised to be caught doing what he ought not to have done.

“What strange place is this?” Theo asked. “What the hell kind of thing are you?”

The barrel-shaped man dropped his hand to his side and looked off into the distance, pretending that nothing had happened.

“I saw you,” Theo said. “I heard you sneeze. What on earth is going on?”

Unable to resist, the puppet snapped open his eyes and waggled his great mustache. Pressing a hidden lever, he magically lifted the derby from his head in greeting. “Mr. Firkin,” he said. “At your service. And who, may I ask, are you?”

“You can talk.…”

“Of course I can talk,” Firkin said. “So can you. Let me re-pose my original query and ask for your name.”

“Theo Harper. But you are a puppet.”

“How do you do, Theo Harper? A performer, really.”

“Made of papier-mâché.”

“We prefer to be called actors. It's what we do.”

“How is it that you can talk and move about without a man inside? Is there someone at the controls?”

Firkin raised his brows quizzically and looked down at his enormous belly to check his hollowness. “What time do you have?”

Theo checked his phone. “It's after midnight. Nearly one o'clock in the morning.”

“After midnight and before dawn, we are free to move about here in our home. As long as we are alone.” His voice sounded as if it was being thrown into his mouth, like a ventriloquist's dummy, slightly false and off-key.

The giant queen rested inertly against the wall. Theo pointed toward her with his thumb. “Just you? Or is that one alive, too?”

Like a windup doll, Firkin chirred into motion, and with a guiding arm, he escorted Theo to the farthest stall, looking back over his shoulder to check. “Do not trifle with the Queen.”

“Holy shit, so she's alive, too? Just resting her eyes?”

With a jerk of his arms, Firkin tamped down the loose talk. He whispered, “If you know what is good for you, you'll not wake her. Best to let sleeping monarchs lie. Why have you come, Theo Harper? Are you a puppeteer?”

He brushed aside the question. “Are there others here? Others like you who can walk and talk like they're alive?”

“Others? There are many others.”

“I've come about just one. My wife, Kay.”

At the mention of the name, the Queen opened her plate-sized eyes and looked directly at him. She drew in her knees and pushed up off the ground, rising slowly to her full ten feet. The top of her head nearly grazed the ceiling as she lurched forward. Each step of her stiff-legged gait required considerable effort, and Theo saw her walk like the stop time of a Muybridge sequence, a series of still images, fluid and static simultaneously. He could outrun her if need be, if she meant him some harm, but her face displayed curiosity rather than fear or malice. Firkin laid a heavy hand on Theo's shoulder, encouraging him to stay put. Just steps away, she stopped, towering over them and swaying like a tree in the wind.

“There is no Kay Harper here,” she said. “And you should not be here either. Get out while you can.”

“But I saw her,” he said. “In the Halloween parade. And I saw you and this roly-poly man and several others besides. So you won't mind if I have a look around for her?”

The Queen squared her shoulders and flared out her robes to make herself as large as possible. “I most certainly do mind. You have no business in this place. Be gone, and forget what you have seen here.”

“You heard her, friend,” Firkin said. “There'll be no second chances. Go, and say nothing of what you witnessed in this place.”

“You don't scare me. My friends will soon be here. Matter of fact, there's a man coming right now through the cellar.”

“Oh dear,” Mr. Firkin said. “I wonder how he'll pass the Worm. He may well be detained longer than any of us expect.”

From the floor above came the sound of music and dancing, so raucous that the miniature puppets above their head began to swing in the air, revealing the old faces from Québec. He knew Kay must be upstairs and took a step toward the exit.

“What do you think you are doing?” the Queen asked. “Let's say she is here, for the sake of argument. Let's say you can find her somehow. Do you think you can just waltz in and take her away? And what would you do anyway with a puppet? She would not be who you remembered. She would not be as she was before. No, go home while you have the chance. If you persist in this folly, there is nothing I can do for you.”

“But I love her,” Theo said. “I miss her. She is the other voice in my head. Blood in my heart, song in my brain. You have no right to take her away. I've looked for her every day, and now that I am so close to finding her. I won't be stopped. Not even if she has become someone else. Even a puppet.”

Mr. Firkin shuffled his feet in the sawdust. “You had better forget her, chum. Nothing to be done. So sorry for your loss.”

The Queen fell to her knees and sat back on her heels to face Theo. Her shoulders slumped and she folded her hands in her lap. “Am I growing soft? Have I lost the iron will I once enjoyed when we few were in the Back Room? My size, I fear, has only heightened my sympathy. Much better for a queen to have a cold heart. Is there nothing I can say to you, dear man, to convince you otherwise? The world, if given time, will break your heart, but the heart will heal with time to be in the world again.” The Queen lifted her hands to hold his face. She felt like a mother, he felt like a child.

“I need to find her and, if possible, to take her back with me. My wife is a real person, a human being. If there is a way to make her whole again, please tell me.”

“Kay is here, but first, you'll have to find her. The way is not that difficult, just keep turning to the right till you find the stairs. But I cannot say what, if anything, lurks in the rooms along the way. There are puppets about, strange creatures over whom I hold no influence. And then you will have to get past all the others who have no wish to see Kay go. They would recognize you, of course, in your current form, as a man. So a costume is in order, though even the best mask will not hide your true identity for long.”

She brushed the ghostly puppets hanging on their strings. “Simple is best, under the circumstances. You will need to act quickly. They are distracted by their revels, so you may be able to fool them as a ghost.”

Mr. Firkin interjected, “There may be some spare muslin about, and you'll need a cloak over those clothes.”

“If,” the Queen said, “if you can manage to avoid detection, you will have to be cunning and not alarm her. Convince her who you are, and, even so, she may not wish to leave. There are others who may want to go with you.”

“Noë, for one—”

“Thank you, Firkin. Others who would be more than happy to attempt escape. But you may need to assure Kay of your love and get her to believe that life—her old life—is possible beyond these walls.”

Theo brightened. “I have faith enough for both of us.”

“You may need it,” said the Queen. “There are two exits. You could try to retrace your steps to the front door, but the others will surely notice and you may not get very far. The better choice is through a hole in the wall, up by the silo somewhere, I reckon. I'm afraid I cannot be more specific, as I've not seen it from the inside for myself. But I know it is there. I saw it from the outside when we arrived, and the wind blows through it on certain nights. You'll have to plan your route before you go. Speed will be of the essence. Once they notice you are trying to flee, the others will come after you and quickly.”

“You'll have the one chance only,” Mr. Firkin said.

“Manage it before dawn, and she will return to her human form once you are outside. Don't underestimate the other puppets. They are strong and fierce and are not likely to allow you to escape. Once you are outside, you must run away as fast as you can, and do not under any circumstance tell a soul about what happens here.”

“That's it?” Theo asked.

“Provided you don't look back as you are passing through the exit,” the Queen said. “If she loves you, she will follow. If not, you may lose her for good. But you have to trust her.”

Above them, someone was tumbling across the floor. “Mr. Firkin,” Theo said, “I'm ready to become a puppet. Let's make that disguise.”

 

25

They cut the head out of stiff muslin, stitched it together like a bag, and stuffed it with rags. When they had finished, the false head appeared three times larger than his own, and he had to work to find the balance to keep it on straight. Behind the table in the vestibule where the silk-screened posters were sold, Mr. Firkin found a pot of black ink, and they daubed a crooked mouth and two crude eyes, piercing them so Theo could see through small holes at the center. Over his body, he wore a simple floor-length sheet, also made of muslin, tied at the neck with the noose that Noë had fashioned. He looked like a giant version of the marionettes strung up in the rafters.

“Keep your hands hidden once you are in the loft, and nobody will notice. You make a nearly acceptable ghost.”

“Turn around,” said the Queen. “Let me see. Hmm, it will do. Nobody will know you, Ghost. And our timing might be advantageous. The others will think you are one of us, and the Quatre Mains puppets will assume you are one of the others. Be wary of the Devil, however, for he knows everyone.”

“The Devil, you say?”

“Red suit, horns, pointy beard. Watch out for him. Try to glide as best you can and make yourself inconspicuous. Think like a puppet, move like a puppet. When the time comes to escape, hasten to the passage.”

Firkin trimmed away the frayed end of the noose. “And if all else fails, run like hell. You're ready now, so get going. Through the rooms to the stairs. Can't miss them.”

“I can't thank you enough—”

The Queen raised her hand. “No thanks are necessary. If you manage your escape, you will forget all you have seen and learned here and the secret life of puppets. Go, find your beloved. But beware of the primitive wooden puppet at the center of it all, a plain and unassuming doll who will do the unspeakable if he catches you.”

Theo walked away through the darkness. The first room he came to was empty but for a few bare branches and white excelsior on the floor, a deserted set to a forgotten winter's tale. A giant empty shoe dominated the second room, and he did not want to imagine the size of the puppet whose foot belonged inside it. In the center of the third room was a single shōji with a delicate painting of a plum tree in blossom. After inspecting the screen for any puppets hiding behind it, he hurried into the adjoining chamber, a set right out of a fairy tale. Resting in a bower was a full-sized man, gently snoring next to an empty jug. He clutched a swag of purple grapes in one chubby hand, and the other hand rested upon a small sleeping black donkey, worn by its toils.

“What ho, spirit?” The puppet sat up, a fat and hairy satyr wearing nothing but a laurel garland encircling his head, an unkempt beard, and horse's ears. “Whither wander you?”