“Come, zaichik,” Olya said. “And meet the Queen before the night is through.”
Taking her hand, she stepped off the edge, floating to a soft landing. Still unused to walking after such a long spell, Kay had to lean on the Russian woman’s arm. Seated by the curtains dividing the Back Room from the toy store, on a throne made out of oatmeal boxes, the Queen was the most lifelike, the most beautiful of them all. Carved from tiger maple, the grain running lengthwise from brow to chin, her face and classical features were set off elegantly by a corona of jet-black hair cascading to her shoulders. Her robes were dyed pomegranate, and in one hand she held a scepter cunningly painted in shades of gold. At her feet sat a horrid creature, a green foam puppet, his misshapen head dominated by a large pair of plastic googly eyes, a primitive mishmash inspired by Picasso, the saddest face Kay had ever seen. He mewled like a kitten as she approached, covering himself under his mistress’s hems.
“Pay no attention to that Worm,” Olya said. “His name is simply that, and he is more to be pitied than feared.” Five paces away, she kicked out her foot and the puppet slid farther beneath the Queen’s skirts, quivering and muttering complaints. They stopped in front of her and curtsied.
“Majesty, may I present … ah, my little angel, I have forgotten your name, if I ever learned it.”
“Kay,” she said and rose to face her. “Kay Harper.”
The Queen tipped her chin in greeting.
Olya bowed as well before continuing her tale. “She is the latest sent over to us by the Original in the Front Room. Stitched and sewn by the Quatre Mains and the Deux Mains themselves in the last moon. Kay Harper comes from beyond. She is an acrobat, Majesty. A tumbler.”
“You have been on the stage?”
“I have,” she said. “Just recently in the cirque, but for some years before in both competitions and performance.”
“That will serve you well, when the time comes.”
“So I have been told.”
“If you are chosen.” The Queen corrected herself with a beatific smile. “Remember your training, and you will have many a happy time with the puppeteers. I am afraid that some of us forget how to behave.” With her toe, she nudged the squirming Worm below the throne. “You will want some opportunity now and then to play a new part. Change is everything in this place.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The Queen bent closer, looking Kay in the eyes. “If you follow a few simple rules, all will be as it should. We are free to move about after midnight and before the first light of day, as long as we are ourselves alone. And we do not leave the Back Room and certainly never venture into the Front Room. You must not bother the toys on the other side. Live simply and know your place.”
A bell rang. From the vicinity of the beaded curtain, Firkin shook an old-fashioned school bell with great vigor and announced in a booming voice: “Time, ladies and gents. Places please. Rosy dawn is sticking her fingers in our eyes. Places. Time.”
The Queen sighed and descended her cardboard throne, and Worm slithered away quick as a grass snake. All of the puppets were moving now, putting away their games and trinkets, scurrying about to return things to how they were. No? shouted at the Old Hag with the news, and the Dog bounded across the shelf, burning away the last excess energy. Attending the Queen, the Judges fixed her wires to her wrists and ankles, and with a great heave ho they positioned her on a coatrack, where she was to hang, the life draining from her features after one wan smile in Kay’s direction. The others retreated to their places, their expressions, too, changing into frozen smiles or frowns. Olya pulled at her hand. “Dahlink, we must find and put you back where they last left you. Do you remember? Day is coming. Hurry, hurry.”