The Devil took Kay by the elbow. “See, they are just like us.”
“Opa!” a deep voice hollered jubilantly from the middle of the room, and the musicians responded with a quicker tempo. Along the walls, the puppets crowed together and started a rhythmic clapping that started slowly and rose to a crescendo. In a grand entrance, emerging from a hole in the wall near the silo, six young women burst forth and set the partygoers into ecstasy.
Ravishing in their primitive costumes, the young women glimmered with bare limbs and feet, long wild hair, and a look of madness in their eyes. Two held spears in their hands, much like the ones Kay recognized from her metamorphosis from doll-size into her current form. Two were robed in animal-skin tunics, and two had wineskins bandoliered across their chests. They waved to the audience, and the music slowed as they began to tumble and somersault and cartwheel in the space carved out in the center of the floor. Wild cheers met every leap and canter. Kay thought back to her fellow acrobats in the cirque and was mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of color and the power of their dancing.
“Who are those women?” she asked the Devil.
He stroked his beard to the point. “They are the maenads. Don’t get too close.”
From behind them came the clatter of footsteps on the stairs, and the Quatre Mains puppets parted to allow another six creatures to come bounding in, bare chested and shouting with lusty throats. They danced across the room on cloven feet, the lower half of their bodies fur covered, the hooves beating against the wooden floor. The satyrs chased the maenads, grabbing at their costumes, snatching at the wineskins to drink and spill dark red wine. Emboldened by the bacchanal, three of the gulag dissidents sauntered over to the Three Sisters and pulled them onto the dance floor. Nix took the cue and picked up three of the shoe children and juggled them in the air, the babies laughing with abandon. The little dog bounded to the cat with the fiddle and howled at his spot in the chorus. The skeletons played their bones like xylophones, beating a tattoo on their ribs. Scooping up the Old Hag in his giant hands, Teddy Roosevelt swung her round to his back and trotted about on all fours like a great moose while she cried “Bully, bully!” The Devil grabbed the Good Fairy in his arms and they fox-trotted into the mob. Pockets of laughter erupted. Shouts of feigned protest were met with delight and surrender.
A hand slid into Kay’s hand and squeezed tightly, and she sensed at once No?’s plaintive gesture. She allowed herself to be led away into a somewhat quiet corner where the two wallflowers could be alone, but they had to shout to be heard above the din.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones after all,” Kay said.
“There are too many. Where did they come from?”
“Same place as us, I suppose. You must be relieved to see so many others like us.”
“A relief?” No? looked at the wild party unspooling all around them. “If anything, it makes things worse.”
“But look at all the fun they’re having.”
“I don’t belong with these puppets.” She bowed her head to avoid having to see them.
Kay bent down so she could face her friend eye to eye. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Have you forgotten who you are?” She seemed more bewildered than ever, the madness returned.
“No?.” Kay brushed her hand against the doll’s painted cheek. “Just who is that anymore?”
As the song stopped, the Devil and the Good Fairy rounded the dance floor and broke off to rest before them. His face was redder than ever, though the Good Fairy showed no signs of exertion. The band paused, and the noise diminished enough for regular conversation.
“Ah, you party poopers,” the Devil teased. “Join the fun. Won’t you come with me, Kay? There’s someone dying to say hello.”
Dragged away, Kay looked back at No?, dejected against the wall, the Good Fairy wrapping a branchy arm around her shoulders. The Devil elbowed through the mobbed floor, the painted faces leering as he and Kay passed. The other puppets seemed to know a secret.
A very fat and hairy satyr with horse’s ears stopped them with two outstretched arms. “Don’t take another step,” he said with a hiccup. He wobbled unsteadily and blinked his red-rimmed eyes. “Don’t mess with them dames, turn away. The maenads are nothing but heartache and violence. Go back to your life of ignorance and delight.”