*
Some nights the whole barn seemed alive. The voices in the middle of the night came soft and loud, sudden, or in long slow whispers. Voices from other floors and chambers, places no one dared to go. Most of the time, the sounds were mere gibberish, but on occasion, a stray word or phrase floated in the air. A man would holler “radio” at odd times. An older woman said quite clearly: “I do not care for celery.” Footsteps would bend a floorboard now and then, and once the faint melody of a waltz overlaid with many people dancing in a faraway loft.
They were not alone.
The Queen had commanded them to stay out of the other rooms to not risk encountering anyone other than their own. At first, the random noises disconcerted Kay and the other puppets. They had been used to being the only presence moving about in the middle of the night, whether at the toy shop in Québec or the little theater in Montreal, where any sudden sound indicated that humans were nearby and meant they had to return to their places and pretend to be inanimate. Here in the barn, however, the voices suggested that others of their kind prowled the halls and spaces beyond, like strangers in a graveyard. Only, of course, the Quatre Mains puppets were the new arrivals, the real intruders. The others had been here long before, years, perhaps decades. They huddled together in the stalls, afraid of what might be out there. On Halloween, three nights after they had been locked away, the whole place rang with laughter, sometimes joyful and raucous, but sometimes lit with madness.
No? inched over to Kay, pressed her body close, and sought the comfort of her hand. Bare patches in the straw thatch on her head gave away how she had been pulling at her hair, and dark circles, powdery as charcoal, appeared on the paper skin beneath her eyes. “I don’t like this place.”
“You’re just not used to it,” Kay said. “The strange noises.”
In the corner, Mr. Firkin rocked back and forth to build the momentum necessary to stand. He was fatter than before, his torso round as a barrel, and it took three tries to get to his feet. Excited by the sudden motion, the little toy dog leapt from the feet of the Old Hag and barked encouragement, and heads turned in the ranks of the sleepy puppets. Waddling across the room, Mr. Firkin deposited himself before the huddled pair, hands on what passed for hips. His great mustache bristled like a porcupine as he chewed on his words before speaking.
“Fear of the unknown is the greatest of fears, and the imagination often makes a tempest out of what proves to be mere drizzle. There is nothing to be afraid of in these squeaks and creaks. Why, those are our kinfolk above and beyond. Actors and performers like us. I am surprised at you girls, jumping at your own shadows, cowering at mere reflections.”
No? squeezed Kay’s hand. “This barn is a big place. Who’s to say what’s in the other rooms?”
“Shall we go investigate? To help assuage the tremblies? If you are reluctant, I could volunteer Nix or the Devil. Everyone’s wary of the Devil, and I’m sure they would give him a wide berth.”
At the mention of his name, the Devil sauntered over to join the conversation. Like a coquette, he batted his long black eyelashes and affected an unbecoming innocence. “Did someone mention my name?”
“Why yes,” Mr. Firkin said. “As a matter of fact, I have an important mission for you. It is high time we get a better sense of the surrounds and introduce ourselves to the neighbors. If you would be so bold, could you scout for us? Find out what or who are on the other floors and chambers and report back to us? You may take Nix if you are at all concerned for your safety.”
“Not a problem,” said the Devil. “Ever since we came here, I have been curious about those poor souls. And I go by myself. No need for clowns.”
From his perch on a water trough, Nix shouted, “I resemble that comment.”
A small convex mirror hung on a post by the door, and the Devil went to work, preening. The other puppets milled about, talking in low tones about the idea of sending him to investigate the forbidden rooms. Two camps formed: those who dared and those who fretted. In the end, all deferred to the Queen, who had been silent, content to watch and listen from on high. As a matter of courtesy, the Devil presented himself to her, bowing obsequiously from the waist, and rising with a grin splitting his new face.
“Make our introductions to the others,” said the Queen. “Pay our respects to the Original, if he is out there. Play the diplomat with your smiles and sweet words. But find out what you can. Express our hope and desire to be a full part of the community under this one roof, but make sure you uncover any secrets they might hold. Be a good spy and ambassador. We are counting on you.”