The Motion of Puppets

They drove around a bend until the farmhouse was just out of sight, and then Theo had Mitchell pull over and shut off the engine. In the gloaming, they backtracked down the country lane, sneaked in behind the bus, and made their way to the barn. Egon tried the handle to the front door, but it was locked as the girl had said.

“There’s got to be another way in,” he said softly, and they walked along the perimeter, the grass wet and spongy under their feet.

A wooden fence abutted the silo standing at the barn’s western end, and behind it the grass had been worn away and a few slabs of granite jutted forward to make a ledge. Enclosed by the fencing, a pasture gradually sloped fifty yards to a small stream that marked the end of the property. Beyond the stream, the land rose through a forest of birch and pines that led to the road at the base of another mountain.

“I’ll just hop over into the meadow,” Egon said, “and see if there’s a back entrance. See that ledge there? I’ll bet you that’s where the sheeps or goats used to sit and watch the day go by. Some of these old barns on a hillside like this have a cote built into the lower floor. The sheeps go in and out through the basement door, so to speak.”

“Too dangerous,” Mitchell said. “You’d break your neck if you fell down that hill.”

From inside the barn came a muffled barking that sounded like a mechanical yap from a windup toy. With a wave, Theo herded them toward the front entrance, and the barking intensified and changed directions. From the direction of the farmhouse, a black mastiff charged straight at them, ears pinned back, teeth bared. They froze in place, and the dog stopped a few feet away, tense and ready to spring if they took another step. It moved its snapping jaws on a swivel among the three of them so quickly as to appear to have three heads at once. The storm door slapped shut, and the redheaded girl hurried across the yard followed by the boy. She ran like a Muybridge series, a jerky stop-motion sequence that made her look like a puppet, and the boy’s timing, too, was just a fraction out of sync. The boy grabbed the dog by the collar, and it relaxed under his grip.

“I thought I told you we were closed,” the girl said. “I told you it was locked. Now, I think you better get and don’t come snooping round here no more.”

*

“Did you hear it?” Kay asked.

Olya stretched and yawned mightily. Just after midnight, and they were the first ones astir. “Such a reckit. Who can sleep with such a reckit?”

Her sisters grumbled at the disturbance and rolled away from the lamp that Mr. Firkin had lit before going to see to the Queen. Nix woke up beside them and immediately reached for his juggling. One by one the puppets roused themselves.

“There was the dog,” Kay said. “Did you not hear it barking outside? And strange voices. Someone trying to break the lock.”

“Dahlink, I can see trying to get out of this drafty old place, but why would anyone try to break in?”

“Didn’t anyone else hear it?” Kay asked again. “Three voices.”

The Old Hag lifted a hand to her ear. “What’s that you say?”

Over in their corner, the Good Fairy and No? were hanging their finger puppets on strands of twine from a crossbeam above the stall. With the brush of her hand, the Good Fairy called her close. “I heard it, too. Late in the day after the sun had dropped behind the mountains. No? heard them, didn’t you?”

“The men. Three new ones, and then the girl who lives in the house, and the boy, and the big black dog.”

The tiny puppets spun on their ropes like witches on the gallows. The Queen was passing, and the prodigious train of her gown stirred the air. Because of her great size, she commanded the tight quarters, and they were ever watchful and aware of her presence. The three of them huddled closer so as to not be overheard, but secrets were difficult to keep from one whose ears were twice as big as theirs. From their crouched positions, they waited till she was safely gone.

“I do not trust the Queen,” the Good Fairy said. “Or that she always has our best interests at heart.”

For the first time in ages, Kay felt relief and a sense of camaraderie with another puppet. No? had long been her ally, but she may well have gone mad. Or was maddening everyone with her pretense. To have the Good Fairy admit to treason, an impulse she shared, made Kay near delirious with happiness. “I quite agree with you about the Queen. She has gotten too big for her own good.”

Eyes gleaming with mischief, No? drew a finger across her throat. “Off with her head.”

Covering the hole of her mouth, the Good Fairy held back a laugh. “Shh, not so loud.”

“I wonder what would be inside her head,” No? said. “Delusions of grandeur and notions of power.”

“You must be quiet and more circumspect,” the Good Fairy said. “Kay, what do you make of the noises at the door this afternoon?”

“The girl and the boy were angry. Why else would they let loose the black dog? I think the men were trying to come inside, but they were stopped at the door.”