The Motion of Puppets(24)

Firkin paced before the witness box, contemplating the phrasing of his next line of attack. “Tell us in your own words what you saw those two hoodlums getting themselves up to on the night in question.”

“They were conferring in the corner, Mr. Firkin. I could not hear what they were saying, but I had my eye out. Not literally, of course. And that one—”

“Let the record show,” Mr. Firkin intoned, “that Nix the clown is pointing to the codefendant, Miss Harper.”

The Queen gaveled on the makeshift desk. “There is no record, Mr. Firkin, just so you know. We have no stenographer. We have no paper on which to write, and our pencil is currently Exhibit A, so I see no need for a record.”

Hiding her voice behind her hand, No? whispered in Kay’s ear, “Do you see a pouch on the Queen? For this is fast becoming a kangaroo court.”

“I heard that,” snapped the Queen. “May I remind the defendant that my feelings are very easily hurt?”

Nix jumped in to fill the awkward silence brought about by the embarrassing remark. “I saw Kay Harper fetch the matchbook, Your Grace, and next thing, Mr. Firkin here is saying it’s time for us to go to bed. Quick as a wink, No? makes a break for the curtain. Chaos ensues, I don’t mind telling you, but you were there. You saw it. Everyone here is a witness. I had to stop her from trying to run through between the strands of beads. She would have been injured. Or worse. She may have awakened the Original.”

The Three Sisters crossed themselves. “Without a cat in the room,” Olya said, “the mice feel free.”

Mr. Firkin scowled at her to keep quiet and then clapped Nix on the shoulder to show how well he had done. “Your witness, Devil.”

“I have no questions for this clown. The province concedes the point that he stopped her in what he believed to be an attempted escape. His bravery is not germane to our case.” He winked and gestured for Nix to step down.

On his way back to the jury box, Nix waved to the defendants and honked a toy bicycle horn concealed in his trousers pocket. When the laughter died down, Mr. Firkin announced in a loud voice, “The prosecution calls the Devil.”

“Your Honor, please, this is preposterous. I cannot be expected to testify against my own clients.”

“Overruled,” she said and beckoned him to sit. There was no show of swearing him in.

“May I remind you,” Mr. Firkin said, “that as an officer of the court, you are bound to tell the truth, even if that is against your nature. Did you not last night pursue No? as she tried to escape through the curtains?”

The Devil nodded. A fat white spider slipped from one of his horns and hung from a silken thread.

Picking up the matchbook, Mr. Firkin said, “Please the court, Your Majesty, Your Honor, I place into evidence Exhibit B, and now ask the witness if he did not retrieve said matchbook from one Worm. And then, Old Devil, did you not read the note for yourself and give it to me as guardian of the entrance to the Back Room?”

“Firkin, Firkin. You know that I did.”

Having no rebuttal questions for himself, the Devil was dismissed.

With his thumbs again hooked around his suspenders, Mr. Firkin took a dramatic pause. “Call the two defendants to the stand.”

“I really must object, Your Honor. My clients are not required to incriminate themselves, and it is most unusual to put two into one box.”

“Mr. Devil,” said the Queen, “we are not amused. The hour of our long sleep is at hand, and much remains to be done. We must finish the trial, decide the punishment, and then make ready.”

“String them up.” Someone in the room was throwing his voice.

The gavel crashed down. “Order, order. If that voice was not a marionette’s, well, that is just in extremely poor taste. There will be no stringing, there will be no up. Now, Kay and No?, please step forward and be quick about it.”

The two puppets held hands and walked gingerly to the witness box. The Worm slithered in to give the oath, but one joint sneer scared him away. Mr. Firkin marched forward like a Dutch uncle and handed the matchbook to No?. “Did you write this note? Would you please read it out so everyone can hear?”

No? nodded. “I don’t see why I’ve got to say the words. Everyone already knows what I wrote: ‘Help! Get me out of here.’”

“And you, young lady.” He trained a stern eye on Kay. “What were you thinking by trying to slip it under the door?”

Kay sighed and did not know what to say.

He left her quaking in her chair and returned to his own, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were contemplating the eternal verities, or perhaps he was merely daydreaming or thinking of nothing at all.

The Devil rose to cross-examine the witnesses. In the hollow of his left clavicle, the spider had found space to knit a web. The Devil snatched the matchbook from No?’s fingers and read the message again to himself. “Surely, you were only joking. You were having your way with us.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“And you, Kay Harper, you were in on the gag?”

“I was just trying to help.”

“Heh-heh. Help with her little practical joke?”

“No. Help her go home.”

With one voice, the Sisters in the jury box gasped. The Good Fairy snapped a twig. Nix gave his horn a desultory toot. The Dog, who had been resting under the witness chair, began to whine. Kay searched the room for a sympathetic friend, but they had all turned their faces from her. The Devil was behind her, leaning against the back of her chair, his long fingernails clacking against the balsa wood.