Mr. Firkin interjected, “There may be some spare muslin about, and you’ll need a cloak over those clothes.”
“If,” the Queen said, “if you can manage to avoid detection, you will have to be cunning and not alarm her. Convince her who you are, and, even so, she may not wish to leave. There are others who may want to go with you.”
“No?, for one—”
“Thank you, Firkin. Others who would be more than happy to attempt escape. But you may need to assure Kay of your love and get her to believe that life—her old life—is possible beyond these walls.”
Theo brightened. “I have faith enough for both of us.”
“You may need it,” said the Queen. “There are two exits. You could try to retrace your steps to the front door, but the others will surely notice and you may not get very far. The better choice is through a hole in the wall, up by the silo somewhere, I reckon. I’m afraid I cannot be more specific, as I’ve not seen it from the inside for myself. But I know it is there. I saw it from the outside when we arrived, and the wind blows through it on certain nights. You’ll have to plan your route before you go. Speed will be of the essence. Once they notice you are trying to flee, the others will come after you and quickly.”
“You’ll have the one chance only,” Mr. Firkin said.
“Manage it before dawn, and she will return to her human form once you are outside. Don’t underestimate the other puppets. They are strong and fierce and are not likely to allow you to escape. Once you are outside, you must run away as fast as you can, and do not under any circumstance tell a soul about what happens here.”
“That’s it?” Theo asked.
“Provided you don’t look back as you are passing through the exit,” the Queen said. “If she loves you, she will follow. If not, you may lose her for good. But you have to trust her.”
Above them, someone was tumbling across the floor. “Mr. Firkin,” Theo said, “I’m ready to become a puppet. Let’s make that disguise.”
25
They cut the head out of stiff muslin, stitched it together like a bag, and stuffed it with rags. When they had finished, the false head appeared three times larger than his own, and he had to work to find the balance to keep it on straight. Behind the table in the vestibule where the silk-screened posters were sold, Mr. Firkin found a pot of black ink, and they daubed a crooked mouth and two crude eyes, piercing them so Theo could see through small holes at the center. Over his body, he wore a simple floor-length sheet, also made of muslin, tied at the neck with the noose that No? had fashioned. He looked like a giant version of the marionettes strung up in the rafters.
“Keep your hands hidden once you are in the loft, and nobody will notice. You make a nearly acceptable ghost.”
“Turn around,” said the Queen. “Let me see. Hmm, it will do. Nobody will know you, Ghost. And our timing might be advantageous. The others will think you are one of us, and the Quatre Mains puppets will assume you are one of the others. Be wary of the Devil, however, for he knows everyone.”
“The Devil, you say?”
“Red suit, horns, pointy beard. Watch out for him. Try to glide as best you can and make yourself inconspicuous. Think like a puppet, move like a puppet. When the time comes to escape, hasten to the passage.”
Firkin trimmed away the frayed end of the noose. “And if all else fails, run like hell. You’re ready now, so get going. Through the rooms to the stairs. Can’t miss them.”
“I can’t thank you enough—”
The Queen raised her hand. “No thanks are necessary. If you manage your escape, you will forget all you have seen and learned here and the secret life of puppets. Go, find your beloved. But beware of the primitive wooden puppet at the center of it all, a plain and unassuming doll who will do the unspeakable if he catches you.”
Theo walked away through the darkness. The first room he came to was empty but for a few bare branches and white excelsior on the floor, a deserted set to a forgotten winter’s tale. A giant empty shoe dominated the second room, and he did not want to imagine the size of the puppet whose foot belonged inside it. In the center of the third room was a single shōji with a delicate painting of a plum tree in blossom. After inspecting the screen for any puppets hiding behind it, he hurried into the adjoining chamber, a set right out of a fairy tale. Resting in a bower was a full-sized man, gently snoring next to an empty jug. He clutched a swag of purple grapes in one chubby hand, and the other hand rested upon a small sleeping black donkey, worn by its toils.
“What ho, spirit?” The puppet sat up, a fat and hairy satyr wearing nothing but a laurel garland encircling his head, an unkempt beard, and horse’s ears. “Whither wander you?”