“You are late.” Friedrich checked his watch as he hovered near the table with a stack of papers.
Birdie paused at the top of the stone stairs, her heart pounding, as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. “Sorry.”
She crossed to the table where the others sat looking bored. The music and conversation were gone.
She slipped into a seat between Kayla and Sophia and cradled the pack in her lap.
“Are you okay?” Sophia asked. “You don’t look so good.”
“It’s hot out there.”
“Do you need a glass of water?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though. Did I miss anything?”
Sophia looked concerned but didn’t press the issue. “Not really. We’re just getting started.”
“Welcome back,” Louisa said from her seat at the far end of the table. “Friedrich, the character sheets?”
Birdie’s fingers trembled as he handed her a sheet. She inhaled deeply and willed her nerves to settle as she set the paper on the table and clasped her hands on top of her pack.
Friedrich waited beside her.
She leaned forward and read the title. “A lady’s maid?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Louisa couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. “You will be a lady’s maid for me. They have selected me to play Princess Elisabeth this year. Don’t worry. We’ll have fun.”
“Who selected you?” Sam asked.
“It was part of the interview. Camp counselors must also play roles at the festival.”
“So what are you?” Kayla asked Friedrich.
Birdie would not have thought it possible, but somehow Friedrich straightened his spine even more. “I am the prince. Prince Gunzelin.”
“Of course you are.” Kayla twisted her lips. “That’s the one who doesn’t get the girl, right?”
“That is correct.”
“Do you play the prince at the second festival, too? The one she marries?”
Friedrich shifted uncomfortably.
“No. There is another boy here who plays that role,” Louisa said. “He normally assists Frau Hamel with selling tickets on busy days.”
“Is he cute?” Kayla’s gaze shifted from Friedrich to Louisa, whose cheeks flushed pink.
“That’s a yes,” Raina said from the other end of the table, where she sat with her brothers.
Friedrich scowled and adjusted his papers. “Enough of that. As you know, you must learn to be villagers who work at the castle. You will each have a position of importance. You must stay in character throughout the pageant and” – he paused and glared at Kayla – “be nice to the tourists.”
He crossed the room and rummaged in a large wooden box.
“What’s he doing?” Birdie whispered, loosening her grip on the pack as the glass cooled. She was afraid it would activate again and prayed it wouldn’t happen before she figured out how to get it out of there.
“No idea,” Sophia whispered.
Friedrich yanked an enormous black hammer from the box and used both hands to lug it to the table. He plopped it down in front of Ryan with a thud. “As decided during introductions, you will assist the blacksmith.”
Ryan snorted as he picked up the ridiculous hammer. “This is no bat.” He positioned it to take a swing but a sharp look from Rich stopped him. “What? I was just gonna test it out.” Ryan shrugged as he set the hammer back on the table with a clunk.
“And Sam will be the baker.” Friedrich turned to the others. “Birdie is the lady’s maid for Louisa as part of the duke’s royal family. We still need a guard, a seamstress, and someone to manage the stables.”
“You may have other roles to play, too, depending on how many local volunteers they have for the pageant,” Louisa said.
“I’m still a little unclear.” Ryan snatched up his character sheet and eyed it suspiciously. “What’s going to happen exactly at this pageant?”
“It’s like the finale of a play,” Louisa explained. “It’s a bit of a parade and a performance all in one, and all the reenactors take part.”
“Can we pick the role we want to play?” Sophia asked. “Or are you assigning them all?”
“You can pick your role from the ones Friedrich just listed. Did you have something in mind?”
“Managing the stables. I love horses.”
“They have horses in Hawaii?” Raina asked.
“Very well.” Friedrich rustled through the sheets and handed one to Sophia.
“So that leaves Rich, Raina, and Kayla,” Louisa said. “Do you have any preferences?”
“I’ll go for the guard.” Rich sat back in his chair. “No one would take me seriously as a seamstress. Will I get to wear armor?”
“Not heavy armor.” Friedrich handed him the character sheet. “But we can see if there is any chainmail around.”
“I saw some,” Sam said. “When we were sorting the costumes.”
“Cool,” Rich said.
“I guess I can be the seamstress,” Raina said. “But I don’t know how to sew.”
“But you know how to dance,” Louisa said. “And that will come in handy for the pageant.”
“Dancing?” Ryan scrunched his nose as if he’d tasted something rotten.
“I’ll be the back-up princess,” Kayla offered. “You know, like an understudy.”
“No. Friedrich and I play the roles of prince and princess. We’ll find a role for you, don’t worry.”
“Frau Hamel may need help in the ticket kiosk,” Friedrich said.
“Maybe you can be the executioner,” Birdie murmured.
“Very funny. Hey, I have a question.”
Louisa raised her eyebrows.
“What if we don’t stay for the sleepover? Who plays these roles, then?”
“The lock-in is optional,” Louisa said. “Most campers who don’t stay overnight still take part in the festival and leave with their parents when it’s done.”
“Aren’t you staying?” Raina asked.
Kayla shrugged. “Not sure.”
“Okay.” Friedrich checked his watch again. “Take five minutes to study your character sheets.”
Ryan scanned his sheet and tossed it onto the table.
“That was fast,” Sam said without looking up from his own paper.
“I’m an apprentice to the blacksmith. I hit things. What else do I need to know?”
“What to wear, for one thing,” Sophia said. “And how you’re supposed to behave.”
Ryan rocked back on his chair, peering over Sam’s shoulder at his sheet as he did. “The baker’s apprentice is a good gig. At least you get to eat.”
“Yeah, but you get to smack things. Besides, this says I’m not allowed to eat. At least not in front of the tourists.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to sneak it. Maybe you can bring me a piece of cake or something. I’ll need some strength to deal with this hammer. It’s heavy as—”
“A bat?” Rich glanced up from his own paper.
“Yeah, if they made it out of lead. See for yourself.” Ryan dropped his chair forward with a thump and used both hands to push the hammer across the table. Rich lifted it with an effort, then passed it to Sam.
Birdie stared at her character sheet, unseeing.
Why hadn’t she remembered to take the aventurine out of her pack, to squirrel it away in the hotel safe with her passport?
She tried to think of an excuse to leave camp, something that would give her enough time to hike down the hill to the hotel, hide the glass in her room, and get back. That would take at least an hour and there was no reason she could think of that would excuse her that long.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. She just needed to stay calm and she would come up with something.
In the meantime, she forced herself to study the character sheet, to read the words.
She was to wear a plain black dress made of wool over a collection of underskirts, and wrap her head in a white scarf. The scarf in the photograph had a weird bulge in the back, so her hair probably had to be in a bun. At least the fabric would cover her bruise.
She was going to sweat to death, she was sure of it. She was suddenly grateful they held camp in the storeroom, where it always stayed cool.
Except for that small spot in her pack, she realized with a start. It had fired up again, and the heat radiated against her lap. She clamped her hand down over it and prayed for it to cool down. She peeked up and down the table, relieved to see that no one was looking at her.
A scraping noise across the storeroom drew her attention as a different world shimmered into view. It was hazy, as if superimposed on the real world around her.
Please don’t do this here.
The scene was translucent, more of a reflection than reality. In the shimmer, the stone walls were lined with barrels and casks, with cinched sacks piled against them. A heavyset, bearded guard slouched at a table near the wall, his long leather vest hanging open as he snored.
Birdie drew in a breath when she saw the symbol stitched in gold thread on his chest.
A flower.
A rose.
As she strained to make out the details of the room, a thin girl drifted past the guard, her slippered feet barely touching the floor. She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old.
She pushed a tiny hand into one of the sacks and wiggled her fingers to loosen the tie. She kept close watch on the guard as she retrieved a handful of something small, but he didn’t wake. She moved like a ghost back across the storeroom, disappearing through a narrow opening in the far wall.
“Birdie?” Kayla’s voice was barely a whisper. “Are you seeing this?”
She swallowed.
“You brought the glass here?”
“What is up with this glass you keep talking about?” Sam dropped Ryan’s blacksmith hammer on the table with a clunk. “Or are you telling stories again?”
The guard grunted, waking as he faded away.
“More like lies,” Sophia said under her breath.
Kayla and Birdie were silent, staring at the place where the guard had been.
“Hello?” Sam waved his hand in front of her face. “Kayla?”
She shook her head as she turned toward him, slowly coming back to reality. “I told you Birdie found a piece of glass that made magic.” She glared at Sophia. “And it isn’t a lie. The only one who lied around here is Birdie.”
Birdie searched for a distraction. “Hey, Sam – is that your blacksmith hammer?”
“No.” He sounded disappointed as he picked it up again with both hands and swung it around. “It’s Ryan’s. I’m the baker, remember?”
“Whoa, careful there.” Friedrich made his way over to the table.
“It’s heavier than it looks.” Sam handed it back to Ryan.
Kayla ignored the boys. “Let me see the glass.”
“No.” Birdie slipped the pack onto the back of the chair and stood up. “We’re not doing this here.”
“I think we already have.” Kayla gestured toward the place where the guard and the girl had shimmered into existence.
Birdie pushed her chair away from the table and crossed the storeroom. She ran her hand along the cold gray stone where the girl had disappeared and, sure enough, found an angled opening camouflaged along it.
That must have been how Friedrich snuck up on her that morning.
“Where does this go?” she called to him.
“To an office on the lower level of the museum. We use it for camp materials. How did you know it was there?”