*
The others taught Kay the motion of puppets.
No? fetched a set of rods from a bin and affixed a pair to her wrists and a pair at her ankles. The wooden sticks clacked against the floor as she walked into the middle of the Back Room, once nearly tripping over a tangle at her feet. The puppets gathered round in a semicircle, and Kay imagined herself back onstage, under a spotlight of attention. Mr. Firkin stepped forward as the master of ceremonies.
“The trick is to remember not to move until you feel the pressure from the puppeteer’s hands. Ordinarily when the humans manipulate you, there are two people required for a doll like you, one to move your arms, and another to control your legs. They will flank you on each side and push or pull on the other end of the rods. Perhaps it’s best if four of us act the parts, one at each extremity, so to speak. Let’s put the Devil on your left and the Good Fairy on your right. Judges, perhaps you can make her walk.”
The four puppets hurried to their appointed spots. She felt a soft tug as each took the sticks in hand and the overwhelming sense that she was no longer in control of her own body.
“If you were a real girl,” the Good Fairy whispered in her ear, “you would have an opening where they could use one hand to make you talk and move your mouth. Not like that crude thing you use now.”
Kay clamped shut her makeshift lips, recalling how Nix had taken a saw to her face. Putting a finger to his mouth, Mr. Firkin motioned for them to be quiet. A curious look came over him as he drew deep into his own thoughts. When at last he found the information he had been seeking, he chuckled like a professor.
“Are you familiar with your center of gravity? The fulcrum of your balance? For most people, it is situated between the navel—or should I say belly button—and the, ahem, groin. You might feel it as a small acorn in the pit of your insides. Of course, for others the center of balance might be virtually anywhere. A divot at the base of the skull. The midpoint between the flanges of the lungs. I knew one misfortunate soul whose center was in his left knee—”
“I am a gymnast,” Kay said, “and quite familiar with balance and gravity.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, flustered. “How quickly I forget, and, of course, that’s why you are here. Well, you must relax outward from that point, let yourself go limp around it.”
She exhaled a long deep draft, and in her next breath slackened her muscles, trusting the foursome to keep her upright. Her knees buckled slightly, and she teetered as they held fast. Giving herself over to the others demanded all her concentration. Old yoga practices kicked in. She emptied her mind and let herself go. Her right arm shot forward when the Good Fairy lifted the rod, and then the Devil brought up her left and caused her to clap her hands. A puff of dust rose from her canvas fingers. The crowd cheered for her, and then she felt the push of her left foot as she took her first step. Working together, the puppets moved her arms and legs, and she was walking. She squealed like a toddler with delight over a sudden and newfound power. They moved slowly at first, allowing her to get used to the sensation, but soon they quickened the pace, forcing her to new directions, even made her walk backward. She enjoyed the ride with a different driver, finding that she was made to move this way. And just when she thought it over, they made her leap into the air and held her suspended eighteen inches off the floor, and in a careful and delicate movement, they unfroze her from space and let her glide back to the earth, landing softly as a dove.
“Again,” she cried. “Again, again.”
“Excellent, wonderful.” Tall Olya spoke above everyone’s head. “Don’t wear yourself out, dahlink. There’s time enough to walk and fly and perform their magic.”
The Judges were already untying the rods from her ankles. The Devil in front of her removed the strap from her left hand. “You’ll be tempted to play the part. Give in, give in.”
On her right side, the Good Fairy said, “Pay him no heed. He’s nothing but a big ham. All that talk about performance. Feh, just wait till they come for you.”
“Who is coming for me?”
“Why, the Quatre Mains and the Deux Mains, of course. You don’t think you’ll be allowed to stay in the Back Room forever.”
“When will they come?”
“We never know. But they will get you.”
“Suppose I leave before they come for me.”