A Rag Doll's Guide to Here and There

by Richard Roberts

  I nodded in satisfaction, and rubbed my hands together. Yes, that was an excellent—

  Wait. “Me? By myself?” I pointed at my heart, and stared up at her for some sign I’d misunderstood.

  No. I could tell by her even expression I had not misunderstood. Sandy took hold of my waist in both hands, almost like a hug, and leaned forward so she could talk to me eye to eye. “There are only two humans in all of Here and There. Everywhere we go, we get attention. There are more clothlings than anyone can count. Without me, you can go anywhere, and do anything, and no one will think of trying to stop you.”

  I just stared. My fluff hadn’t felt this blank and useless since she first gave me her glasses.

  Leaning in closer, Sandy kissed me right above where her glasses were tied between my eyes. “It’s time to graduate from being a sidekick and become a heroine, Heartfelt.”

  Jane-ella was right. This was sooner than I thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Warm, solid arms squeezed my head to a fuzzy sweater, and Sandy kissed the top of my head.

  “I believe in you, Heartfelt.”

  There was nothing to do but swallow my doubts after that, and watch my heroine ride away on the back of her lopsided patchwork monster. The happy bickering of the two heads over whether it liked being a steed faded into the forest stillness of There.

  I reached up to awkwardly pat the mane of Sandy’s rocking horse. My rocking horse now.

  “Are you quite sure you can’t come up with a name of your own? That would make our association much less awkward,” I asked it.

  “Do you think not having a name makes me dashing and mysterious?”

  Oh, my. Well… “Yes. Yes, I do. Onward, dashing and mysterious steed!”

  He reared and whinnied, and I grabbed tight hold of his yarn mane, because unlike Sandy I couldn’t reach his handles! Away we sped into the eternal night, my satchel flopping on my back from his sway.

  “That way! Hya, not a mule!” I shouted, at the first sign of a Bundleberg… er, sign.

  He hya’d, and between squinting at shabby intersection signs, I contemplated my mission.

  Sandy believed in the importance of having an ace in the hole, a secret backup plan. That seemed wise to me, and I wanted one for myself, which is why we were headed to Bundleberg.

  As nervous as having to act on my own made me, it was a bearable burden. My goal was clear, and I’d built up experience helping Sandy. What worried me the most was something I couldn’t control. Sandy had never really understood just how ugly and obviously damaged I was, now. Would I actually be able to fit in like she believed? Could I dare to hope that her magic would shine on me and make that possible?

  I would find out, and if not, I would find another way.

  Along one of those dark roads we passed a dark figure tangled in the trees. Mostly just a long coat with a pair of gloves, a couple of badly repaired clothlings from the Trash Fortress were busy adjusting its posture. I waved, and the coat waved back.

  That made me miss Sandy. We would have enjoyed experiencing that together, whether or not we had time to chat with the locals.

  Eventually, we reached the road into Bundleberg. “Eventually” was the best I could say, due to the “eternal night” complication.

  Here we would test Sandy’s theory about my invisibility. I rode my nameless horse up the street slowly, his rockers grinding unpleasantly on the stones. Six, eight… ten guards lined the street, halberds upright, guarding. They didn’t react to me.

  Encouraging!

  Hmmm. It would be best not to stand out, so I didn’t ride all the way to the plaza or the Town Hall. Instead, I stopped halfway between the final two guard pairs on the street itself, slid down off my horse, pulled myself up three steps, and walked into the nearest house.

  Inside, a hunched figure with a shawl pulled up around her head like a hood rocked in a creaking chair set in front of a roaring fireplace. I felt the heat from the doorway!

  The bundless spoke in an old woman’s voice, presumably because she was an old woman. “And who would come creeping into Auntie Sugar’s parlor unannounced?”

  “Someone who hasn’t had time to be announced, and has arrived with a plan for secret rebellion,” I answered, dusting off my pink plastic heart.

  Her voice sharp with sudden pleasure, she waved a scrawny, knobbly hand in tight rubber gloves at a nearby armchair. “Have a seat, dearie, and go on. You have Auntie Sugar’s attention.”

  As nervous as I felt being that close to a fire, I toddled up to the chair, jumped up to grab its seat, and pulled myself up to sit at a diagonal from Auntie Sugar. The cushion was soft, springy, and the surface frayed into fuzz. Very nice.

  Folding my legs and clasping my mittens on them, I attempted to speak bundlish. “The queen of light believes she has Bundleberg crushed under her heel. I am offering the chance to destroy her from the shadows, preparing the tiny drop of poison that will weaken her and cause her downfall. Figuratively. Actual poisoning will not be necessary. My plan is much more subtle and lurking than that!”

  Auntie Sugar folded her hands together, making the rubber squeak. “Go on, dearie.”

  “I need… a pair of glasses.”

  The process was not quite as easy as I would have assumed. Half a dozen bundlish crowded around me, all trying to talk over each other as they held different kinds and sizes of spectacles in front of my face. Their pride would not allow me to walk away without the perfect pair, even if I never needed them.

  The actual inhabitant of this house did not take part. After watching the hub bub for a while, she spoke up. “Do you want to know what Auntie Sugar thinks, dearie?”

  Silence fell. A command from a human could not have gotten more instant, respectful attention from the other bundlish. Pushing herself awkwardly out of her rocking chair, Auntie Sugar hobbled her stiff and bent figure over to me. With her head down so far, I could only see her scarf, not the face underneath. Spidery hands reached over and stroked my book bag. “Little good will your secret weapon do if it’s not a secret. Auntie Sugar will sew a hidden pocket for you. Until then, tea and cookies sound good, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, please!” It was almost a shout.

  After that, it took only seconds for the other bundlish to decide on a pair of spectacles with perfectly square frames that I thought looked quite intellectual. It didn’t take much longer for a teapot and a cup of rich, honeyed tea to be delivered. I drank.

  Ah. Delicious.

  Warm and feeling successful, I had only to wait while Auntie Sugar sewed a little pocket into the inside lining of my bag. Her gnarled fingers moved with impressive surety, although not very fast. The whole experience was deeply soothing.

  Inevitably, I fell asleep.

  Pincushion’s arm rippled and smeared as she waved it over a piece of paper that looked like a map. I couldn’t be sure. Everything but her was just blobs of color.

  Another dream linking us together, but this time she was awake. That explained the muddled mess. Only her voice came through clearly. “Then why are you standing here and not delivering her to me?”

  Someone answered with garbled sounds like a badly played trombone. Words were in there somewhere. Was one of them “bird?”

  Pincushion smirked back at it, dark eyes focused and angry, not amused. “You’re not that fast? Really? I can see you’re a front-runner for Princess Charity’s Medal of Intelligence.”

  The blob she was talking to let out an excited honk. Pincushion put her face in her hands, heedless of the extra punctures this caused. “Just… get… moving. Heartfelt is in Bundleberg. Bring her to me. Hurry. Go!”

  I jolted awake, strangling down my panic. There were two very big positive sides to this situation. First, I had warning. Second, being awake, Pincushion hadn’t seen me. I was alerted, and she wasn’t.

  Well, except for the part that she knew where I was at all. How?

  I looked over at Auntie Sugar in the n
ext chair, rubbing her squeaky hands together and chuckling from within the depths of her hood. No need to think deeply on this answer. Sandy had told the bundlish to surrender to Charity, after all. They decided that betraying me was more appropriate than betraying Charity.

  What should I do?

  Run for it, of course.

  Sliding down off the chair, I toddled over to Auntie Sugar, and slid my bag onto my back. “That’s amazing. Thank you so much. I’m going to give the bundlevich a message from Sandy, and then be on my way.”

  Okay, now walk casually to the door, Heartfelt, and start running as soon as you’re out of her sight. That’s right. Me, about to escape? No!

  A foot from the doorway, skinny rubber-covered fingers closed over my head, and Auntie Sugar lifted me into the air. Turning me around to face her hanging, scarf-covered head, she admonished, “Oh no, dearie. You’re not going anywhere. Not until your escort arrives.”

  My body went stiff, but from determination, not fear. Reaching up, I grabbed the arm of her robe, and a handful of rubber from her glove. “Let me go, or I’ll pull up your sleeve.”

  There was no possible way I would do that. Kill someone? Even for Sandy? No.

  But Auntie Sugar didn’t know that. Right?

  Slowly, trembling with care, she lowered me down to the floor and let go.

  With no further ado, I ran. There was no fast, sure way down the wooden steps out front, so I flung myself forward off of them, took the uncomfortable blow when I hit the street with my book on top of me, pushed upright and kept running.

  There were no alleys in Bundleberg! Just one long street with nowhere to hide, and… yes, of course, someone had moved my horse all the way down to the end. I had no alternative but to run on stubby legs about a fifth as long as a bundlish’s.

  Case in point, behind me I heard Auntie Sugar say, “But if I step on you, dearie, then what will you do?”

  I yelled my rejoinder at the top of my metaphorical lungs. “Guards! Protect me, by order of Princess Charity!”

  “By order of Princess Charity!” they chorused. The two I’d just passed stepped together and leveled their halberds at Auntie Sugar. The others pointed their weapons threateningly at any bundlish who peeked out their front doors.

  Did Bundleberg have back doors? Where would those lead?

  These were questions for when I was not running for my life!

  Sheer dumbfounded silence followed me. Of course the guards obeyed. Even the insidious bundlish were struggling with the idea that anyone would lie about a human’s orders. Being touched by Sandy had given me a little magic of my own.

  It wouldn’t last forever, but it lasted long enough. I reached the end of the street, jumped up and latched onto the saddle, and shouted, “Go! Get us out of here!”

  He didn’t wait. We sped through the increasingly narrow and shadowy tunnel of trees as I pulled myself properly upright, and checked my bag. Yes, my book was still there, and so was a little red pocket that blended into the lining. You wouldn’t notice it if you didn’t know it was there, even with the lumpy shape inside. Pulling back the lid…

  Those square framed glasses. Victory appeared to be mine, if I could escape to savor it.

  As my nameless steed got us good and lost, I pondered. Clearly, I would have to be more careful about allies. Could I get through the Maze and into the night half of the capitol that way? Pincushion’s troops would be heading through the North half of There, and if I stumbled into them word would have spread of my trick already. It was unlikely to work twice. Pincushion might be twisted by her obligations to an evil child, but she was at least as intelligent as me.

  High voices arguing got my attention. Not the sound of guards at all. Tugging on the rocking horse’s mane, I pulled him into a side tunnel and slowed down, listening.

  “We needed that page! It had a picture and tons of punctuation!”

  “I counted four semicolons. How often do we rescue a page with even one semicolon?”

  “Look at this tear. His stuffing is coming out. No page is worth that.”

  “Oh no, that was already ripped. It keeps coming open, no matter what anyone does. I was originally full of sawdust, and if I hadn’t been lying on a sheep when I first tore open, I’m sure I’d be dead.”

  Librarians and at least one clothling from the Trash Fortress! Better than I could have hoped!

  In the interests of looking official, I rode up to them slowly, one arm raised, and declared, “I greet you in the name of the human Sandy Golding.”

  This group had a longer cart than the last one, with a canvas arch over it. A set of clothlings I didn’t know-

  No, wait, the faded grey doll with the glasses-like stitching around her side, that was Card! Well, this would make things even easier.

  And yes, among the library clothlings sorting through stacks of paper sat a couple who didn’t fit. One was a simple boy with blue shorts and spats, and a rip under one arm from which thick wool protruded. The other had one big plastic eye above a smiling mouth with slim, painted black lips. That oddity itself should not have been enough to disqualify her, considering her ruffled, shining silk dress, little black plastic shoes, black hair with curls on the end, and beautiful white fabric between them. She looked like a smaller version of Ruffles, or perhaps a much smaller version of Amelie. Unfortunately, all of that was terribly marred by burn marks and charred holes in her dress. Much smaller bits of stuffing stuck out through some of the holes.

  While the library dolls argued about the torn boy, she snuck papers out of their stacks and stuck them randomly in the wrong volumes. Good for her. Not my style, perhaps, but she and what I was going to pretend was her brother were living up to Sandy’s dream for them.

  The cyclops doll put her hands in her pockets and pursed her lips to whistle when Card looked around and spotted me. The ancient librarian must not have suspected, because she waved a grey-brown arm. “Heartfelt! What a pleasure!”

  Behind her, a pair of otherwise identical dolls in blue and green couldn’t quite let go of the argument.

  “What is the name of the human Sandy Golding, anyway?”

  “Sandy Golding. She just said.”

  “Oh, I thought that might be a title.”

  I ignored them, or at least paid more attention to Card. Attempting to sound urgent and heroic, I said, “I need your help, noble librarians in exile. Even now, the evil Princess Charity’s sidekick and her army sweep these woods, searching for me.”

  “I hope they brought brooms,” said the blue doll.

  “Those spoons they carry would be terribly inefficient,” agreed her green sister.

  Fortunately, Card had priorities, and climbed up to the front of the cart, bowing awkwardly. “It would be our honor. We can hide you, and take you anywhere you want to go.”

  The cyclops bounced excitedly. “She can cling to the underside of the wagon while we pass under the watchful eye of the evil tyrant’s troops!”

  Okay, that made me beam with joy. Not that I agreed with the suggestion, but this clothling would make a fine librarian if she wasn’t already sworn to chaos.

  “Are they looking for your horse as well?” Card asked.

  Huh. I thought about that, tapping my chin. “I don’t believe they even can look for him. He doesn’t have a name.”

  The aforementioned horse bounced up and down, while I clung to his mane. “Yay, I’m stealthy!”

  “A description, not his name,” I amended quickly, in case that affected the magic.

  Card nodded approvingly. “Then we’ll tie some bound books to him, and he’ll look like part of the caravan. You can hide under our stacks. No one ever searches us. I don’t believe Princess Charity disapproves of our mission.”

  Now, that was the kind of thinking I expected from a top-level librarian. Without further ado, I crawled onto their cart, and burrowed between the piles of paper. Well, one further ado. While I could still lift my head enough to speak, I said, “Take me to t
he There half of the capitol, and let me out.”

  Then the cyclops whose name I’d forgotten to ask poured a box of index cards onto my face.

  It was dark at the bottom of a wooden wagon. Dark and heavy and it went on for a very long time. In fact, it could easily take days to reach our destination.

  Well, I would have to learn to deal with boredom. A week ago at most, sitting in one place doing nothing was the default state of my existence. It had been another life. The only things I’d brought with me to this one were a craving for tea, and Pincushion.

  A very, very long time. Such a long time. I lay in the squishy darkness for what felt like days, long past the point when wondering how Sandy was doing, or what the librarians above me were talking about, or what I could be reading in Theodosus’s journal ran out.

  Eventually, the papers over me shifted. Light beamed down, and after so much darkness I couldn’t tell if it was sunlight. Large hands reached in, fastened around my middle, and pulled me out. Metal hands.

  A royal guard lifted me out and into the air. Pincushion sat primly on the arm of another, the golden witch hat back on her head. A whole squad gathered around the cart, although at least they were carrying the traditional spoons.

  “Put her down at once. She is library property! Do not force us to an act of civil disobedience,” Card growled, waving a feeble and weathered fist at the guard holding me.

  The torn boy clothling eyed the guards and then Pincushion with an unfriendly, mischievous, and contemplative air. He winked at the cyclops. She nodded, ever so slightly.

  I extended my arms to both sides, and shouted, “Cease and desist! My heroine Sandy would not approve of you putting yourselves in danger.”

  Everyone on the cart not only went quiet, their faces went blank. Not in a mesmerized sense, just they suddenly didn’t know what to do.

  The guard holding me turned to face Pincushion. “This is an extreme surprise,” I told her honestly.

  She folded her arms, smirking, or at least giving me a wry, exasperated stare with a smile that pulled up on one side. “I specifically told you that I had a spell on me that let me find you, and the only reason it didn’t work was because you were with your human.”