The Motion of Puppets(77)
“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 No? 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?”
If I remain still, Theo thought, he will think he is dreaming and fall back asleep.
The fat man burped and chuckled to himself. “Will you not speak, ghost, and tell me why you are here? Have you come at last for me? Have my wanton ways finally bested me? One hopes. Ah, well, he lives with the least worry who knows not his misfortune. Come and sit with me awhile and tell me what it is like to be dead. Whether or no it is wiser to have never been born at all.”
Theo put on a false voice, deeper than his own, his cadence slowed by half. “Had you not been born, you would not know what it is like to be alive, and without life, death is impossible to understand.”
Raising a fist to his forehead, the fat man appeared to be in pain. “You are a strange spirit with a strange philosophy, and you are giving me a headache. I am called Silenus, friend. What name did they give you while you were upon this earth? Or are the names we keep but hollow things? Come have a drink, whoever you are, and we shall celebrate your escape from melancholy reason.” Silenus gently slapped the donkey on the rump, and it hawed once and rolled over to sleep on the next pillow.
Theo shuffled up the mountain of cushions, and folding his legs to keep his shoes hidden, he sat next to the drowsy old drunk. When offered a tipple from the jug, he politely demurred.
“What need of wine has a ghost, eh? When one is dead, the crass appetites disappear, but if one is immortal, appetite is all, I am sad to say.” Silenus patted his enormous belly. “Tell me who you have come for, friend, so I may drink to your good fortune.”
“I came for my beloved—”
“Ha! ’Tis an old story. The oldest. Love.”
“Do you know a puppet named Kay?”
“Again with the names. I am lucky to remember my own. Or my brother’s name, Bottom, is it? Are you looking for Bottom?”