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"You'd leave our Lumi's kin within the grasp of he who made me this?" The doll looks coolly at Gate and then his entourage. "You're right. Heroic deeds are not for courtiers. No tales are sung for those who put their neck upon the line." He turns to the older wolf and gently retrieves the quartz. "If what you say is true, I'm in his web right now. As are we all. You can't destroy a spider's web if yet its spinneret remains."
Birne the Boy becomes the as yet unnamed doll. "Of course. You’re just another pawn within his game. And gladly so if you would trade in souls to soothe your grief. But now you have a chance to set things right. To free not just your kin, but my misshapen limbs as well. Now tell us of foul Puck and where he takes his toys." Diplomacy abandons him, with only fury left at the old wolf’s complicity.
"I cannot see within her dreams a person of her blood who's lost. Unless there's kin she never knew she had. Perhaps her gran would know." The doll shakes his shiny head, perplexed.
The doll’s porcelain face shifts to a look of disgust, the very meaning of, Ew, cooties. He manages to maintain focus on his divination.
"We could perhaps seek out her truest love. Or find a djinn to grant a wish. Or..." Birne sings again of family trees, attempting to find within Lumi's mind some evidence of lost, living family members.
"Of course it’s clear you’ve shown great care. You’ve done what I, her sworn protector failed to do. Alas, I fear the Queen’s the one who gave a poison apple to my ward. Now we are left to find the means to wake her up." He looks to Samen. "I trust you jest about the Queen. No friend to you, to me, nor any in this room."
"The Prince? I find it like as not he’ll have you thrown into a gaol as deep as hell itself, or feed you to his hounds. And how would Lumi fare, returned into the clutches of the Queen?" The doll pauses. "When you say sleeping, do you mean she’s eaten from the pomum fruit?"
Sylvan:
"We thank Vasynyt — brave and wise. Good eve." "Ahem. I am the ward and guardian of Lumi, whom I’ve gi’en a true name oath. We wish to guard her from a love that’s false. A wedding to a crown that harms the common folk and fey alike."
"Of course." The doll leaves his dagger outside and enters.
"The Queen would have us hand her back unto the Prince’s arms. But I am sworn to Lumi first, by True Name’s Oath. She gave me shelter as I fled the cruelties of the Rabbit Prince." He shifts to his more innate form. "She knows that fey can be a force for good or ill, like all the creatures of the worlds. But Lumi’s kindness is not for my humble self alone. Milady’s ever for the people of the realm. The Klavaks bring us only war. But what would you and yours intend instead, to keep her in this place?"
The boy rushes to the edge of the clearing but then baulks.
"Sweet as leadsugar, I'm told. A perfect aperitif for all your kindly guests. I pray we meet again ere summer casts its shadows 'pon my glossy cheeks." Unwilling to make further deals with the duplicitous creatures, the doll proceeds to his pony. Tarry not, Gateau! Our freedom has a worth beyond whatever ante they may call."
"I see you have an artist's gift for timing, lest we lose the second act of your advice amidst the glory of the first." The doll gives a courtly little bow to show his good humor. "What further wisdom would her majesty proclaim?"
The doll has a go at Flink, eager to see his hooves flying high in the air.
Full of silent fury, the doll dances upon his wooden steed, tilting the dryad's barrel with elan.
"Dance well, dear lads, or you may one day be as much a toy as I." The doll boy removes his shoes and fills his friends with mystical urgency .
"My queen, of course your word is clad in gold. But mortals have a wretched sense of time. To them it passes at one speed, and not the changing tempo of an epic tale. What realm has wrought this tallow and its wick? The twilight realm or this, the land of men?"
"I’m sure you’ll see the candle’s ember fade ere half a century’s done, Gateau." The light glints off the doll’s waxen face in a sarcastic manner.
The doll stays quiet for a moment, waiting to see how clever or cynical his comrades are.
"How came a bear to build a coffin out of glass? You've such a marvel here, dear sprite. A legend for the age!"
"I know not if we’ve wish to let this mongrel wake, nor true love’s potent kiss. But surely he’d have much to say if mischief’s fruit should lose its grip upon his eyes."
Hucklepuck considers for a moment.
"A wish fulfilled, a daring quest for family bonds, or true love’s kiss. A mighty fruit indeed." Foreswearing apples forever, the doll looks over towards Swori’s resting place. "Would your good majesty object if I should have a look?"
"And biscuits too, Gateau." The doll’s porcelain face somehow conveys irony before he asks, "The East would seem to lie untouched. Has it been claimed by some unseelie force?"
"Your majesty, an honor, to be sure. I serve a lady of the hearth, beloved of Morsain. A group of seven little folk have taken her as guest. Alas, they had no room within their cart for gentles such as us. Might you direct us toward their manse?"
The doll summons up magic without bothering to hide it as his friends dismount.
The doll considers what he knows of the Blodeuwedd Queen, Drona, before responding.
Once again the boy becomes doll as he dismounts. Sylvan:
"We’re seelie as the twilight’s dim, unless you serve the Rabbit Prince or others of his ilk. What shall I call you, pixie friend?"
"Oh Gorgo, such a pity you have friends like these to lead you down a wicked path. Your sparkle says to me you’re meant for better things.” Faerie dust explodes around Gorgo and his friend the snake.
The dirge continues as the doll gesticulates, weaving magic into his fearsome tune. "Upon this final day of Henrietta's wicked reign, lay down your arms or feel the force of noble fists."
"Wait!" The doll interjects as he drones. "We’ve business here. I’ll make you fit to strike."
The doll appears and begins giggling as a wind-up toy might if it had been built for funerals. The laugh is grating, melancholy, and tempts the woman to a mirth-filled end.
"Then remain mum. You'll have the future queen's favor." With that, the boy vanishes. Unseen in a shadowy corner of the room appears a large doll.
The doll named Birne and Jack and other things stands up and regards his sometime brother. "I do remember ow. You were my brother, cherished almost more than life itself. And yes, you called me Birne Einbetten. However, I am now a different creature with another, truer-seeming name. I know not what to make of this...” He gives a slight bow to Vartiomies. ”I know not what your purpose is in this most curious place. But thanks for what you’ve given me today. I hope to tell you tales of victory and joy when we next meet.”
Where Jack had been now sits a large, somehow animate doll, who goes on. "I shall not bore you with the great indignities that may befall a toy. Nor how the boy escaped into the care of Lady Lumi, whom you know." The doll looks Samen in the eye. "I only wish to know, what was I called? Will you now whisper in this ear my once true name? Or tell me what befell the barony?"
The doll becomes a boy again briefly, and then a doll. The rabbit white, he bade the boy to sit
He woke to dark, a weight across his legs.
Such a familiar face on the boy, it may occur to Samen.
As the party stands there, the features of the boy shift. Standing in his place is a familiar, shorter doll, frozen, at once lifeless and alive.
A titter echoes somewhere in the room. The doll continues staring at everyone at once, glassy-eyed and still.
On a chair in the corner sits a doll dressed in finery, with trapping of ermine and green velvet. Upon his black-haired head, a fancy band and circlet. In his grasp, a familiar stuffed, anthropomorphic rabbit in finery. The doll seems to stare in everyone’s eyes at once.
The Rabbit Prince has sent his best homonculus.
Within the mayor’s, atop a gable tower high, she says, "Oh loyal Hucklepuck, how shall I ever know what our fate holds? To wed a prince, and mayhap be a queen." Upon a chair of cherry wood a lifelike doll does sit. A cape of precious velvet rimmed by mink. Within its grasp a rabbit like a prince, with rapier. Upon its brow a circlet spun of golden blooms. They’re hyacinth. No mundane fancy carving this, it speaks a song. "No harm shall come to you, my friend. No trouble 'pon your head, I pledge. Just swear me true: The mem’ry of his kiss, our bonny prince. Of bliss within his grasp. I ask but this." |
