The Starlight Slippers

by Susan Maupin Schmid

  Understanding lit Marci’s expression. I took my hand away. And we waited, listening to the click of her heels going up the spiral staircase to the Musicians’ gallery. Behind us, Dulcie lay curled up, fast asleep on the bottom stairstep. We stood mute, barely breathing lest we wake Dulcie, and waited for Mrs. Pepperwhistle to climb back down the stairs. On the walls and floor, starbursts gleamed in the dark.

  At long last, she did. We heard her open the servants’ door—and leave.

  “Do you see them?” I asked Marci.

  “See what?”

  “The starbursts on the walls,” I said.

  “Darling,” Marci said, stifling a yawn, “I’m going to bed.”

  I woke up the next day, alone in the Girls’ dormitory. Sun poured in through the open windows. The curtains sailed in the breeze. My head ached, and my mouth tasted like old socks. The room door opened and Marci peered in.

  “Alive?” she asked.

  “Barely,” I said. And then I remembered the shining starbursts. I glanced around the dormitory, but if they were there, it was too bright to see them.

  “I suppose so, after all that fuss over nothing,” she said, unaware of the battle inside the magic. “But that punishment still stands.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Late afternoon,” she said. “Don’t worry,” she added as I was about to panic. “Everyone is too caught up in the festivities to worry about you. You’ve missed the wedding brunch and the coronation, and if you don’t get dressed, you will miss the presentation.”

  “What’s a presentation?” I asked.

  “It’s when the new King and Queen give gifts to all their faithful servants,” Marci said, patting her coronet of braids. “I don’t intend to miss it, whether you come or not.”

  * * *

  —

  I stood in a long line of servants waiting to enter the throne room. Faces were flushed, eyes bright. The air tingled with anticipation. A conversation about what gift each group of servants might expect to receive murmured around me.

  I paid no attention; I was too busy staring at the glistening starbursts that nobody else noticed. What did they mean? Were they important? Or dangerous? I touched one.

  Nothing. No sizzle of magic. No lightning. No thunder. Just nothing.

  Why had the opals unlocked a bunch of…nothing?

  My head began to hurt.

  Eventually, the line moved into the throne room. Normally, I’d have enjoyed the chance to study the rich trappings. But I could scarcely see the tapestries or columns or arches or banners for the glistening trace of starbursts. As the line crawled across the inlaid tiles of the marble floor, I tipped my head back and stared at the sparkling starburst on the painted ceiling.

  Could nobody but me see them?

  The portrait of King Richard smiled at me from the wall behind the thrones. Queen Mariposa and King Sterling stood at the edge of the dais and spoke to each servant, one at a time. Next, Lady Kaye handed a small bag to the servant, who then went back across the room.

  The bags jingled.

  I noticed that the size of the bag differed from one class of servant to another.

  I crept closer and closer until I stood on the great crest of Eliora inlaid on the marble floor.

  Queen Mariposa glowed in her jeweled crown, her royal robe, her chain of office, and her rings. King Sterling—I broke out in a cold sweat. He was wearing the regalia! I’d forgotten all about it. I stared at the sleeve of his jacket, seeking the gleam of the gold cuffs under them. But as he moved, I saw that he wasn’t wearing them.

  Were they gone? Had they been stolen?

  Then I remembered what I’d whispered to Queen Mariposa the previous fall. The talisman, I’d told her, and she knew I meant the heavy gold cuffs. I sagged in relief. She’d not forgotten my warning. The talisman was still safely tucked in its chest. Those dragons would have to wait for some other opportunity.

  Since the threat from the dragons was nil, and the starbursts didn’t seem to be doing anything particularly dangerous at the moment, I took time to enjoy where I was.

  The great crest of Eliora was formed from a myriad of glass tiles that outlined a swan on a starburst, behind which were two crossed swords. Polished marble tiles surrounded it. The crest was fourteen tiles wide. Six tiles ran from the tips of the sword points at the top to the steps leading up the dais. I counted fourteen tiles across the top of the steps.

  And then I saw it—a glittering starburst like those that dotted the castle walls. It was sparkling smack-dab in the gilded base that the thrones rested upon! And twinkling right there in the center of it was a keyhole!

  Six and seven, Cherice had said.

  And there it was! Six up and seven over. And it didn’t matter which side of the crest you counted from: the number was the same.

  I’d found it! I shoved my fist into my pocket, but the key wasn’t there. I’d forgotten to get it back from Roger. I ground my teeth. Every fiber of my being wanted to use that key!

  The Upper-servant ahead of me curtsied to Their Highnesses and turned to leave.

  And then I stepped up to the dais. Queen Mariposa smiled at me.

  “Thank you for your service, Darling,” she said.

  “Thank you,” King Sterling said, “for being Her Highness’s friend.”

  Her Highness’s friend. She’d called me that once herself. My eyes welled with tears. I had tried as hard as possible to be her friend, even if I hadn’t stopped the starburst opals.

  “My privilege,” I choked out, curtsying.

  The Queen touched my hand. “It’s my privilege,” she said.

  I turned to go before I started crying right there in front of everyone, but Lady Kaye stopped me.

  “Don’t forget this,” she said.

  She handed me a gold coin.

  “Well deserved,” she observed with a smile.

  I closed my fist around my new treasure. And vowed to myself to return for my inheritance the first chance I got.

  * * *

  —

  The next day the guests took their leave. And the new Queen and King climbed into the royal carriage and rode off on their honeymoon with a retinue of handpicked nobles. The castle servants stayed behind; the Queen and King would be served by others stationed at castles and lodges along the way.

  Marci and I spent the day tidying up the wardrobe hall. With the wedding festivities past, the castle was quiet. All the Upper-servants dallied over their chores.

  “I’m rich,” Dulcie told me that evening, flashing her gold coin.

  The Under-servants were out enjoying the peace and quiet on the east lawn. I’d been telling Gillian, Roger, and Dulcie the saga of my ball adventure. Jane and Marci sat by the bronze lions, out of earshot.

  “You’d better find a safe place to keep your money,” Gillian said, squeezing Dulcie.

  “What are you doing with yours?” I asked Gillian.

  “Saving it for something really special,” Gillian replied.

  “What?” Dulcie asked.

  “I’ll know it when I see it,” she said.

  “I’m sending mine to my mother,” Roger offered. “Darling, what are you gonna do?”

  I shrugged. I’d never had money in my entire life. And now I had a whole gold coin!

  “I guess I intend to keep it and look at it for a while,” I said. “Dulcie, you’d better go see the Baroness. I bet she’d keep that safe for you until you need it.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Roger said. “That’s not something you want to lose.”

  As soon as Dulcie was gone, I told Roger and Gillian about seeing the keyhole in the base of the thrones.

  “That’s wonderful,” Gillian said. But then she grimaced. “Not only are there gobs of Guards posted in that part of t
he castle, but it’s not a place we have any excuse to be.”

  “I’ve got a way in,” Roger said. “Remember that I told you there were lots of passages to places you shouldn’t go?” He jabbed the air. “That bit that branched off from the passage to the ballroom and into the west wing? Gold mine! It opens straight into the throne room.”

  “Ooh,” Gillian said. “We can walk right in and no one will know we’re in there!”

  “Are you sure the Guards don’t check inside that room during their shifts?” I asked, so excited my stomach hurt.

  “I’m sure,” Roger said. “Just another empty room these days.”

  Gillian gripped my hand. “This is it!” she said. “A magic invisible keyhole, a special key—your inheritance is just a twist of a wrist away!”

  Roger and Gillian grinned like fiends. They couldn’t have been more thrilled if it were their inheritance we were after.

  “Great!” I said, afraid to say any more lest I bawl like a baby.

  Just then, a tall shadow fell over us.

  “Good evening, ladies, Roger,” the Stable Master said. He had Roger’s folded map in his hand.

  The three of us sat round-eyed like three fat mice cornered by a cat.

  The Stable Master sat down next to us as if he meant to keep us company.

  “Um…,” I said.

  “This map has intrigued me,” the Stable Master said. “At first, I thought it was just what Miss Dimple here claimed it was—a map of the castle.”

  “Huh,” Roger said.

  “Yeah?” Gillian breathed.

  “But it isn’t,” the Stable Master replied.

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  “I know that castle inside and out. So you can see why my curiosity was piqued,” the Stable Master continued, ignoring our discomfort. “I wondered how and why you three ambitious youngsters created this. And then a reason occurred to me.”

  “It did?” Gillian asked, looking as if she just might pass out.

  “It did. These lines”—he pointed to the map—“aren’t corridors; they’re passages behind the corridors.”

  “Oh,” Roger groaned.

  “Very enterprising of you three.” The Stable Master chuckled. “All these years and no one else ever suspected they were there. So why don’t you explain to me how you found them.”

  “It was an accident,” I said, hoping that excuse would exonerate us somehow. “We weren’t looking for it; we just fell into it.”

  “That explains it,” the Stable Master said, slapping Roger on the knee. “Just lucky.”

  “That’s us,” Gillian chimed in. “Lucky.”

  “It also occurs to me that mapping hidden passages could be dangerous,” the Stable Master said in that ominous tone adults use just before they forbid something.

  “We found the skeleton of that ghost in the south tower, only it wasn’t a ghost, just a dead lady. Well, not a whole dead lady, just clothes and a skeleton,” Roger babbled.

  I poked him. There was no reason to volunteer details.

  “You don’t say,” the Stable Master said. “That solves that mystery.”

  “My, my, it’s getting late,” Gillian said, starting to rise.

  “Not so fast, missy.” The Stable Master caught her arm. “Sit down.” She sat. “Now then, I could order you three to cease exploring, and you’d probably all solemnly swear to stop.”

  Our heads began to bob in unison.

  “But in a few weeks, the temptation would get the better of you.”

  None of us spoke.

  “So here’s what I’m going to do,” the Stable Master continued. “I will leave lanterns and candles in the tack room cupboard for you to use. You will never, at any time or for any reason, go exploring without leaving me a note of when you left, where you went, and what time you expect to return. And none of you will ever, ever go alone. Do I make myself clear?”

  Once again our heads bobbed in unison.

  “Good.” The Stable Master smiled. “Because I’d hate to have to tell Mrs. Pepperwhistle about this. She’s not always as agreeable as I am.”

  You can say that again, I almost replied. And then I thought better of it and held my peace.

  “See you bright and early, Roger.” The Stable Master rose, dusted off his pants, and loped away into the evening.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, stunned.

  “Whew!” Gillian said at last. “He makes Lindy seem like a regular old pussycat.”

  “We’d better follow his rules if we know what’s good for us,” Roger agreed.

  “Of course,” I said glumly, my hopes of obtaining my inheritance anytime soon dwindling.

  “Right after we sneak into the throne room this evening,” Roger added with a grin.

  * * *

  —

  That night, when everyone but the Guards was asleep, Roger, Gillian, and I wormed our way through the passages. Roger opened the portal into the throne room and, with a bow, handed me back my key. Then we snuck inside.

  It was dark, but shards of light from the high side windows cast a ghostly light over the marble tiles. We tiptoed to the dais and crept up the steps. The starburst in the base of the dais gleamed fitfully, as if it couldn’t rest easy.

  “Do you see it?” I asked.

  “See what?” Roger said.

  “The starburst—there—shining away!”

  “I see lots of dark,” Roger said.

  “I see the outline of the thrones,” Gillian offered. “Are you sure there’s really a keyhole?”

  “Yep,” I said. I stepped forward, bent over, and pointed. “Right there.”

  “Oh-kay,” Roger said, scratching his head. “Unlock it.”

  “Go on,” Gillian urged.

  And then, feeling as if generations of Wrays were looking over my shoulder, I put the starburst key into the lock.

  “Gosh, I see the keyhole now!” Roger gasped.

  “Turn it, turn it,” Gillian squealed, forgetting to be quiet.

  “Go on,” Roger said. “Let’s see this thing. If it’s been kept at the foot of the thrones all these years, it’s gotta be somethin’.”

  Magic surged through my fingers, murmuring in agreement. Anticipation boiled in me like a pan on a stovetop. The key turned with an audible click. A drawer slid out, its bottom invisible in the shadows.

  “Ooh, I can’t wait!” Gillian breathed.

  “What is it?” Roger whispered.

  “I can’t see,” I said, squinting.

  He dug a candle stub out of his pocket and struck a match. Then he lit the wick and held the candle over the drawer. Black velvet lined the bottom, and in it were two oval depressions.

  “Is this the right lock?” Gillian said. “This can’t be!”

  I stared. This was it. This was what I’d been searching for. But nothing was there!

  Roger waved the candle over the two hollows, and its flame lit the darkness between them. And then I saw.

  The light hit something between the two oval depressions, something that sparkled brilliantly against the velvet. I reached down and picked it up.

  “Hold it here,” Roger said.

  “Oh my goodness,” Gillian sobbed. “It’s a diamond!”

  “It’s a crystal,” I said, squinting at it.

  And it was. I scooped it up and held it in my palm, a beautifully beveled stone.

  “That’s pretty, but…,” Roger trailed off.

  “Wait,” I said, eyeing the shapes in the velvet.

  I took off my starburst-engraved silver locket, which was inscribed with the name Wray. I pinched it open and laid the crystal inside. It clicked into place. Then I closed the locket and carefully fit it into the oval on the right side of the drawer. A buzz of magic tingled u
nder my fingertip. And the locket lapped up the magic like a thirsty dog.

  “It fits,” Roger said.

  “That’s it? That’s your inheritance? A crystal for your locket?” Gillian asked, sounding disappointed.

  But I wasn’t. It was right somehow. It had been passed down to me through my mother. It had been in our family since the time of Magnificent Wray. And I knew now that it wasn’t just a locket; it was something more. I didn’t know just what yet. But I’d find out.

  And I realized something else. The first chance I got, I was going to seek out One Hundred. Because if it hadn’t filled the slippers with magic, the starburst wouldn’t have been unlocked, and I’d never have found the keyhole. The dress had done it on purpose. I’d asked One Hundred for help, and it had helped me.

  I owed that dress an apology. And my thanks.

  I picked the locket up and polished it on my sleeve.

  “Who would have thought that I was carrying around my inheritance the whole time?” I asked.

  Gillian shrugged; her visions of jewels and deeds to castles had evaporated.

  “The real mystery,” Roger said, poking his finger in the empty depression to the left, “is what goes here.”

  “Hmm,” Gillian said, perking up. “Maybe it’s an emerald—like the Heart of the Forest?”

  “You girls,” Roger said, shaking his head. “All you think about is jewels.”

  “I thought you said that all we think about is the Prince?” I said. “Er—King,” I corrected myself with a laugh.

  “That too,” he replied.

  “Hand me the candle,” I said.

  Roger held it out to me and I took it. Then I crouched down to study the other depression in the velvet. That size! That shape!

  “I’ve seen this before,” I told them, tracing the shape with my finger.

  “Where?” Gillian asked, plopping down next to me.

  “Cherice wore that shape every day,” I said, “swinging around her neck!”

  They both eyed me like I was as crazy as Cherice.

  “She said she was the last Wray,” I reminded them. “And she always wore”—I thumped the depression—“her magnifying glass around a chain.”