greasy haze. Dry sea grass lay in loose patches on the ground as if someone bedded for the night here in the tunnel, but they had gone now. Jars and boxes were piled up against the tunnel sides. Diverus drew Leodora’s attention to a huge figure leaning against one such pile of red earthenware shards. “There,” he said, “that’s the one gave me the coin.”
They walked up to the cowled stilt figure, which appeared to be napping against the wall. The hood was pulled so low that the grotesque masks matching the coin faces could not be seen beneath it. In all likelihood the walker had removed them to nap, but if so, its face in the depths of the cowl wasn’t visible, either.
“Hello?” Leodora said. “Can you help us?” The figure remained utterly still. She extended her hand to Diverus for the coin. He flipped it to her. As it reached the apex of its arc, a gloved hand shot out from the loose folds of cloth and caught the coin. The stilt figure shifted away from the wall and hauled itself upright, so tall that its head appeared to brush the tunnel roof. The scarves draping it danced as in a breeze, as if to bewitch.
The stilt walker lifted the coin close to the cowl. “One of mine,” it said, the voice sonorous but rough, reminding Leodora of the voice of Shumyzin and Diverus of the groan of the paidika gate on Vijnagar. “What is it I can do for you? Is it a story you’re looking for?”
How did it know that about her? “I’m looking for the Pons Asinorum. I think you might be able to help me.”
“No secrets from the storyteller. She wants to know it all.” When the walker laughed, she was surprised the stones didn’t shake apart. The black gloved hand emerged from the layers of cloth again, and the angular figure bent over her. It held something. She reached up to accept it. “I hope,” said the stilt figure, “you are as fearless as you seem.”
She felt a cold thing placed in her palm, and brought it down to eye level. It was a dark stone phial about the length of her smallest finger, but thicker around with two tiny pierced flanges through which a cord ran. The phial might have been malachite; she couldn’t be certain in that uneven glow. One end of it was corked. Beneath it in her palm lay the copper coin.
“One drop upon a dark reflection,” said the figure. “No more. And take care that you hold your destination in mind.”
“A dark reflection?”
“No more,” repeated the figure, and it canted over to the side and returned to leaning against the wall.
“Wait a moment,” she said. “That’s no better than my fool of a counselor. I don’t know what you mean—whose dark reflection?”
Diverus took hold of some of the walker’s blue-and-green skirt material and tugged.
“Hey!” came a cry from farther along the tunnel. “Stop that!”
They turned from the stilt figure. A tall, lithe woman dressed in a dark leotard was approaching them. She balanced something on the top of her head, which proved to be a mask. Another mask dangled from the strap in her hand. Diverus recognized the stilt figure’s laughing face. “You won’t get an answer out of him,” the woman told them, “not without me in there.”
“What do you mean?” Leodora asked.
“I mean, without me he doesn’t walk, much less talk,” said the woman. She was a head taller than Leodora. Cropped blond hair framed her face. She had a broad smile and a gap between her front teeth. “Clererca,” she said. “A big puppet is all I am, really.” She gestured to the stilt figure. “It’s not going to do anything for you unless I’m in there among those scarves.”
“But—”
“Say, you look familiar,” she said to Diverus, then squinted more carefully at Leodora. “By the doors of Janus, you’re the puppeteer. I saw your first night’s show. The very first performance of Jax.”
“That’s her,” Diverus answered.
She clutched Leodora’s hand. “You don’t know how grateful I am—we all are—for what you’ve done. Any of us who wanted to perform—we’ve been exiled to Sacbé for years. You’ve made it possible for us to have lives again in Colemaigne, to have a livelihood.”
Leodora blushed. “Clererca,” she said.
“That’s right.”
“Forgive me, but you say this figure is just your giant puppet.”
“In a sense.”
“He’s not alive.”
“Good grief, no. Not until I get inside him. Here, I’ll show you.” She ran around