The Motion of Puppets(60)
Mitchell and Egon munched their cookies, staying out of the way.
“It could be a wild goose chase,” Theo said, “but we aim to find those people who made that puppet that looks like Kay. You have to admit the resemblance. I’ve reason to believe they might tell me something.”
“Aye, but it’s a lang road that’s no goat a turnin’.”
“Inscrutable as ever, my dear.” Dolores had rolled silently into the parlor. The dog left Theo’s side and loped over to greet her. Looking older now, and careworn, she lifted her arms to Theo, and as he embraced her, he fought back tears. She was a ghost. He had forgotten how much she looked like her daughter, a resemblance that pierced him yet again and opened the hole in his heart.
*
They put No? in a corner and wrapped her in a musty old horse blanket, and for the next three nights, someone always sat beside her, holding her hand and telling her everything was going to be all right. She pulled at the paper skin of her scalp, peeling back layers, so Firkin and Nix forcibly bound her hands in gloves crafted from twine. The hardest moments were just after midnight when everyone woke, groggy from slumber, and just before dawn when everyone had to return to their places and forgo control. No? yelled upon waking and cursed before sleeping, always the same plea to be allowed to go home, and at first they reminded her just how impossible that was, and how she would survive in any case, as a puppet in the wind and the rain, not to mention the coming ice and snow. Such bitter foreshadowings of winter only made matters worse.
On the fourth night, Kay took her turn to watch over No?. She sang to her, tunes her mother used to sing, lullabies and nonsense songs, and the music seemed to ease her troubled mind. They nestled in the corner of the stall, warm against the chilly night. “You’re the only one who cares,” No? said. “The only one who understands. There is something inside my head. Please untie my hands.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Kay said. “The Queen would have my head.”
“You must let me be free. Pay no attention to the Queen.”
“But Mr. Firkin would catch us.”
“Surely you jest. He’s nothing more than a tub of hot air.”
“I can’t, No?, I wish I could.”
She let out a drawn-out hiss. “Listen, then, and tell me if you hear it, too, and perhaps once you hear the noises in my brain, you’ll change your mind.” Opening her mouth wide, No? pressed her lips against Kay’s ear and held still. All Kay could hear was breathing, and she shook her head. So No? shifted and pressed her ear against Kay’s ear, and they sat cheek to cheek for some time until the hum, faint and distant, began. An electric current going up and down in volume like an oscillating fan.
Alarmed, Kay faced her. “There is something in your head besides thoughts and ideas.”
“And I can’t very well do anything about it like this.” No? held up her twine-bound hands, useless as mittens. “My brain is going to explode. I’ll go mad.”
“I can’t untie you.”
“Poke a hole in it,” No? said. “It doesn’t have to be big. A little puncture, just enough to let out the pressure, or I’ll just burst.”
The thought of stabbing her friend in the head mortified Kay, but she could see the agony and need in her eyes. Making sure the others were occupied, she searched for a sharp object. When she dropped to her hands and knees, Kay had to fight off the advances of the little dog, who thought she was playing a game. On the floor, she spied wedged in a corner an old horseshoe nail, a bit rusted but keen enough. She pricked a hole in her thumb, surprised by how little pain she felt, and returning to No?’s side, she double-checked on the weird noise by pressing ear to ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It won’t. Just a small incision, somewhere no one will notice.” No? turned and bowed her head, exposing the base of her skull.
The nail punctured the varnished paper with ease, but No? jerked at the sensation, and a two-inch vertical cut opened. Kay gasped at what she had done.
A pearl of amber liquid formed at the bottom of the wound and oozed in a long strand that dripped to Kay’s lap. No? groaned with relief as the buzzing grew louder, and from the slit emerged an orange and black honeybee, which perched on the fold of paper skin, tasting the air and testing its wings before flying away. A second bee followed quickly, likewise departing from her head, and then all at once, dozens of angry bees emerged, their buzz grinding louder and louder. Nix was the first to notice the swarm. Dropping a hoop, the clown shouted a warning, and the stalls were suddenly busy with flailing arms and shouts as the bees poured forth, swirling pell-mell around the puppets’ heads, alighting and taking flight again. Mr. Firkin rolled about, calling for order. The Sisters screamed with fright, and the Old Hag cradled the Dog against her chest as it yapped at the insects, desperate to bite and swallow these bizarre toys.
The honey flowed freely and pooled on the floor behind No?, who had crumpled to her knees and thrown back her head, and some of the bees raced to the spot to collect their spilled food. As soon as her head emptied, No? fainted, and a few bees crawled on her resting body, buzzing angrily as they looked for a way back inside. Squeezing the nail in her hand, Kay crouched next to her, wondering if she had killed her. When she tried to brush them away, she felt a bee land on her hand and plunge its stinger into the web of skin between her thumb and index finger. She watched in fascination as it took flight, ripping the weapon from its abdomen, and stumbled in the air and plunged to its death. They were dying all around her. Those that hadn’t sacrificed their stingers fell victim to Mr. Firkin’s ingenious trap. He had spaded the honey from the floor into a gunnysack and lured them to it, tying the end with twine when most of the hive had gathered. The few bees that had avoided either fate eventually found their way out of the room and flew off to parts unknown.