by Lani Lenore
“No!” Anne protested loudly, shoving away one of the guns that had been thrust in her direction.
“You would try to prove your loyalty then?” Olivia asked with a taunting smile. “A task?”
Anne didn’t respond, clenching her hands that were becoming clammy. She pressed a finger too tightly and the knuckle popped. What would she do? Of course, there seemed only one obvious answer: accepting the task. Still, she hated that she didn’t know what she might be getting herself into by this.
When she was silent for too long, the soldiers moved to take hold of her again. She held onto all of her self–restraint in order to keep herself from fighting back this time. The lamp light flickered.
“Let me prove my loyalty!” she cried out. “Give me a task. I’ll do whatever you want, Lady Sovereign.”
Anne nearly cringed as the words exited her mouth, but since she didn’t know what imprisonment would entail, she decided she would rather avoid that–even though, knowing Olivia, she would ask for something impossible.
The Lady Sovereign put a small finger to her delicate lips, tilting her head away from Anne.
“Hmmm…” she considered, and Anne wondered briefly if the girl hadn’t already changed her mind. “Though I suppose I can’t very well know that you won’t just run off and tell the enemy whatever secrets you’ve uncovered as soon as I release you…”
Anne was very near to losing her temper completely. She opened her mouth to loudly insist that she knew nothing about this ‘enemy’ when a voice rose up behind her.
“Let her be in my charge.”
The voice was unpleasant, an English glide that was running across glass shards. It pitched high to low and back again within every few passing syllables.
Anne turned her head and saw a familiar, leering grin set in a white face. A wild suit made of black cloth. Curling shoes on extremely long feet. A hat that fell behind him like dark rabbit ears. Dangling puppet strings. Sinister eyes. Anne gasped.
The jester doll. Now fully as tall as she was.
He wove his way past the soldiers with fluid movement, gripping her shoulders and squeezing them slightly. Anne didn’t want him touching her, but was too shocked to protest.
“I shall make sure that she returns from her test and does not veer from me!” he declared. “I will vouch for her character if only it pleases Her Ladyship.”
All of the jester’s movements were exaggerated, including the bow and flourish he threw in at the end. Anne stood appalled while Olivia was completely enamored.
The Lady nodded. This proposal seemed satisfactory.
“That will do, Quentin,” she bade, then directed her attention to the shocked nanny. “Bring me the cat’s eye.”
“The…what?” Anne asked, hardly hearing because her mind was trying to wrap around the ever growing unpleasantness of her situation.
“That will be all,” said the Lady Sovereign. “And fetch for her a pair of shoes, will you? Can’t have her running about like that.”
Before Anne could speak up, the feathers were lowered back in front of Olivia as a dismissal.
It wasn’t long before a female doll hurried in from the side, handing Anne a pair of tall boots made out of black cloth. They were thick, and if nothing else, they would keep her legs warm. She pulled them on.
“Come now, Anne,” said the disagreeable tones of the jester puppet. He gripped her shoulder once more and she cringed at his closeness. “The Lady will not wait forever for the task to be completed.”
Anne bit her lip and followed the puppet out of the book palace. She was hardly making heads or tails of this and then Olivia had been thrown into the mix. By this, her job–her very life–was threatened. Now, her path was laced with a jester doll that grinned back at her largely with something going on within his mind that she had no way of fathoming.
What was going on? Who could be trusted? Did she even trust herself? Anne sighed dejectedly, wrapping her arms around herself in a reassuring hug. It did little to protect her from the cold.
Chapter Six: Sing a Song of Six Pence
1
In the still of the freezing night, the lone sentinel moved through a passage between the walls of the house. Painted boots pressed through dust that had settled in the space like snow. Cobwebs decorated the braces that ran upward through the wall until all that was visible transcended into darkness. He watched from deep, slit sockets, through eyes that could not be seen. He had no joints except at his shoulders, but he moved with the fluidity of a human. But he was not human.
He was a nutcracker, made of decorated wood. Still, he searched.
Though his face was not flesh, he could feel the long white hair brushing against it as he walked. Adroit fingers stirred, anticipating an attack that he wasn’t sure was coming. The metal ridges beneath his arms were simply begging for a skull to crack.
“You knew I’d track you down eventually,” he whispered lowly in his native tongue that few in this house would have understood. “It’s been a long time. Can you taste the black bile? Do you fear death?”
He stopped his calm pace to listen to all the sounds around him, and if he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn he was the only living thing within the confines of these walls.
“I haven’t found my way around yet, but I will find you. I don’t know why you hide. Are you man, or mouse?”
The Lady Sovereign’s soldier didn’t even smirk at his own joke, but the humor was not lost to him. He picked up his feet to move forward once again, memorizing everything that he saw. There was still plenty of time on this night to track down his adversary, and he was already certain that it would be fruitful.
Tonight, there would be blood.
2
Beyond the book fort, back in the free air of the room that stunk mildly of mothballs and dust, eyes of red soldiers followed Anne as she passed. They looked on as if batting one eyelash would give her the time she needed to destroy their entire society–but in truth, they had no eyelashes at all. She moved along, casting them scattered looks of annoyance. Her strange and terrifying new companion waved to them as if on parade.
The jester puppet that had volunteered to lead her had not given her a moment’s peace since leaving. He went on and on, forming words with his horrible voice–“You may call me Jester, or Joker–or Quentin. Whichever you prefer.”–that Anne paid no attention to, recognizing them as the babblings of an idiot. She only knew when he touched her; when he gripped her arm or squeezed her shoulders. Then, she wanted to do anything she could to free herself.
Get a hold on yourself, Anne, she scolded inwardly. Think about what’s at hand. You have to complete a task in order to convince Olivia that she needs to stop this madness and come with you. Yes, isn’t that how it works in dreams?
“So…do you know exactly what we might be looking for?” she asked her companion, interrupting whatever he was saying.
“Hm?” he asked, dropping his arms from where they’d been waving about in the air as he talked.
“This ‘cat’s eye’. Do you know where I might find it?”
They stopped across the wooden floor where they’d been walking with seemingly no destination. Anne still had her arms wrapped around herself as if she was cold, but perhaps she actually thought that her own arms would keep herself contained. In the quiet, she could hear the room creaking all around her.
“The cat’s eye! Oh, of course! Everyone knows about that!”
He started walking again, and Anne was left standing there behind him, wondering what in Heaven’s name was wrong with this particular toy. The soldiers had seemed competent enough–though soldiers only have their orders to guide them.
Perhaps this jester was mad–or perhaps he had simply fallen to the curse of what it was to be a fool.
“I’m not exactly from around these parts,” Anne called to him, refusing to move on until she made him understand.
“Oh yes, I quite understand that,” the puppet barked. “You
used to be much larger, but things have changed accordingly! It was a good thing I found you before the enemy though. They would have ripped your throat out proper!”
The words made Anne touch her pale neck instantly. What sort of enemy was this? She parted her lips to ask, but suddenly remembered waking up inside the strange room that had been like a box–was a box. This jester placed claim on putting her there, and she might have seen it fit to thank him if she’d not been so stuck on the fact that she’d been naked when she’d awoken…
But what can he tell about modesty? He’s only a doll.
“Since you are made of flesh, I suppose that having your throat ripped out would be most unpleasant,” the jester then commented thoughtfully, putting cloth fingers supported by a wooden skeleton to his chin.
She almost didn’t follow what he was saying, but then recalled that they’d been discussing how the enemy surely would have mutilated her.
The matter at hand, Anne, she reminded herself.
“What I actually meant when I said that I wasn’t from around here was that I’m not part of the ‘everyone’ who knows what the cat’s eye is.”
She watched him a moment, wondering if it would sink into his cotton–threaded mind. He stared at her blankly, his smile drooping until her meeting finally hit him. He slapped his porcelain mask–face and there was a hard, smacking sound.
“Of course! You have no idea what you’re looking for!”
Instead of explaining, the puppet gripped her arm and jerked her into a run across the large room. Other toys eyed them as they sped past, as they nearly ran into a few of them. Anne didn’t want to be pulled, nor did she want to be led. She was losing her mind. Where were they going again?
The jester stopped his run abruptly near a bronze vent in the wall, and he’d been pulling her along so fast that she plowed straight into him. She bounced off the cloth of his back, stumbling back a few steps. The puppet shot a stretched grin back at her and she cringed–both before they gave their attentions to the wall grate. Warm air blew through it and teased a few loose strands of Anne’s hair. The feeling was pleasant; she wanted to sleep.
She’d never paid much attention to the intricate and curling designs within the bronze grates of the house–or the amount of dust that was able to settle there, blowing toward her in strings like ghostly arms. She saw the soldiers standing on both sides of that vent, understanding finally what this was. It was a gate. The house’s extensive ventilation shafts were the toys’ roadways. This gate was the only way in or out of their little country.
“Passing through,” the jester announced to them.
Anne stood back, watching and trying to keep aware of everything around her. She could hear whispering off to the side, though she couldn’t tell what those voices were saying. The guards at the gate eyed her appraisingly with scowls.
“We only prayed for the Lady Sovereign to be sent down to us,” one soldier muttered, glowering in Anne’s direction. “Why was this one sent?”
“Hm?” the unpleasant–looking puppet asked, turning back to glance at Anne as well. Making no discovery, he then returned nothing to the guards but a shrug.
“Ah well. I don’t suppose it’s any of my business,” the soldier said dismissively. “Password?”
The jester spent a few moments clearing his throat in an exaggerated fashion, as if he were a diva preparing for opera. Anne rolled her eyes. Much too overdramatic.
When the dark puppet had satisfied himself after many grunts and gags, he said: “Sing a song of six–pence.”
Both soldiers reached down–simultaneously, as if run by clockwork–and gripped the bottom screws on each side of the rectangular grate. Anne saw that the top two had been taken out previously. After the bottom two were removed, white yarn was used to pull the covering open from the wall on one side wide enough for them to pass.
“Thank you very much, captain,” the jester said, bowing deeply in an extravagant show of respect.
“Just go on,” the wooden soldier said, motioning them forward. “Hurry up.”
The puppet escort turned to usher Anne through the gate, but she’d already moved past him. Still, the destination was unknown, but she greatly wanted to get this over with.
The Lady’s court jester moved swiftly through the gate as it had already begun to close. Once they were both through, it was locked tightly from the inside. The travelers were tossed out from the safety of the Lady Sovereign’s protected kingdom and out into unknown stretches of the Ellington house.
3
The shafts were full of darkness. Tiny holes had been cut along it to bring in a bit of light, but it was still much too dim for Anne’s human eyes. The only time plenty of illumination fell into the passage was when they passed by a grate. That wasn’t very often.
Anne moved along with one hand pushed slightly out in front of her, all the while hoping she wouldn’t find herself caught in the tangles of a spider’s web with an arachnid as large as her head. So far, the passages seemed to have been cleared well enough. Perhaps the toys had some sense after all.
She walked on silently for a while, leading the way even though she had no idea where they were going. The warm air made her tired and weary, but the odd toy that trailed along behind her made her much too apprehensive to even consider sleep.
Anne sent a glance back at the jester then, seeing that he was walking along at a casual pace, hands tucked behind his back as he examined the dark walls of the shaft. Was he letting her move on along the wrong path? Possible. But honestly, she simply didn’t want to ask for the truth. If she asked, she would be forced to hear his terrible–sounding reply.
What other choice is there? she asked herself. Wander these dark shafts forever with no aim?
She spun around, surprised to find him closer to her than he’d been a moment before. He stopped when she looked at him, summoning a wicked grin. Despite the warmth of the shaft, Anne felt cold.
“Where are we going?” she demanded, giving up.
“Ah!” he declared, clasping his hands. “Sooooo glad you asked!”
But didn’t I ask earlier? Anne wondered, but kept it to herself.
“The Lady has requested that you bring her the cat’s eye, which is in fact a very sacred relic to our enemy. I’ve been around, you might say, and I just happen to know where the enemy lair is and where the relic is kept!”
In any other case, she should have been happy to hear this information, but had gotten stuck on something else along the way. All this talk of enemies was truly getting to her. This whole society made no sense! How could it even exist? Thoughts of inconsistency and the unexplainable swelled within until she couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“What an annoying sort of dream!” she cried, stomping her foot like a whining child. “Apparently there is some sort of order here as pertains to who is an enemy and who is not. No one will tell me what it is!”
Her outburst echoed briefly down the shaft and into the darkness.
“Well…have you asked?” the jester inquired warily.
She groaned in violent protest. The puppet grinned nervously and wrung his hands. His eyes darted back and forth, and if he was capable of sweat, he might have wiped his brow.
“Perhaps you just need to sit down…”
“Don’t treat me like a child!” she screamed, pointing a harsh finger toward his face.
Don’t treat me like Olivia!
He winced at her forceful tone, and Anne realized she might have gone on a tad too much. She managed to calm herself down a bit, lowering her finger and gritting her teeth to speak through them.
“I just want to know who these ‘enemies’ are.”
She clenched her hands together and took a deep breath. The jester watched her and shook his head disappointedly.
“No need to get so out of sorts, Anne,” he scolded, tossing up defensive hands. “All you had to do was ask.”
The woman crossed her arms in front of her, offering an annoye
d glare.
“Ever since we have been a nation, we have had enemies,” the puppet explained, pacing about like a general before a line of troops. “Since the beginning, they tried to conquer us, but the Lady Sovereign protected us. And now, she has been sent to us! To guide us through the trials ahead!”
Anne stared at him, just about to open her mouth and declare that he hadn’t answered her question when he began to approach, wearing his leering grin.
“Our enemies are the most fearful sort,” he said darkly, his movements slow. “They have dirty, stinking hair covering their bodies. Sharp teeth, and vile intent against all. In fact, I hear they sometimes eat their own young.”
He stopped trying to scare her with his tone, falling into a thoughtful expression. “Humans don’t eat their own young…do they?”
“Of course not!” Anne protested.
The jester considered a moment, and then simply shrugged it off as if he might not have believed her.
“So,” the woman started, going back to the proper subject. “These enemies of Olivia’s are mice?”
She remembered the mice in the kitchen earlier. One had bit her ankle; another had bitten Olivia’s finger just the day before. That was probably why they had been incorporated into her dream.
“Mice, yes, and rats,” the puppet informed her, cringing as the last word came out. “Rodents.”
“So that’s what that rule on the chalkboard meant,” she uttered quietly, but quickly shook it away. “These rodents… They are intelligent?”
The jester tilted his white face and gave her an odd look. She nearly expected the long tails of his ridiculous hat to stand up like an alert dog’s ears.
“I mean,” she began again, speaking slowly, “do they speak? Do they reason? Or are they truly like animals?”
The puppet guide shook his head, starting to twirl in circles of boredom. “If they have even a relic that they protect, don’t you think they have some sort of reasoning skill?”
“Not necessari–”
“Yes, that’s what I thought,” he said, not listening. “Now would you like me to show you the way or not?”
