Sky followed.

Once inside the first one, though, Fifer discovered all the buttons had been smashed to bits, as if someone had taken a magical sledgehammer and assigned it to the control panel. There was one person she could think of who had a fondness for that new component: Frieda Stubbs. She’d used several of them to break down a wall in her apartment in order to make it bigger after she became head mage.

Fifer moved to check the middle tube and saw the same thing had happened to it. “Oh no,” she breathed. “What is Frieda trying to do?”

“Here,” said Sky, going to the third one. “This one looks intact. Thank goodness.” She stepped in, making room for Fifer so they could stick together, and pushed the button that would take them to the theater. In an instant they were swept into quiet darkness, and in another instant they were inside the dimly lit auditorium.

Fifer exited the tube and looked up, expecting to see hundreds of swords and other weapons lining the walls, like they’d been for as long as Fifer could remember. But all the weapons were gone—not a single one remained. “Wh-what?” she sputtered, looking all around. “Where are they?”

“Oh no!” Sky lamented. “Frieda’s been here. I was suspicious when I saw all the people on the lawn with swords—that seemed like a lot. It looks like Frieda has taken them all.” She wrinkled her nose, consternated. “Any other ideas?”

“Backstage!” Fifer said. “I know where there’s one.” She took off down the sloping aisle, her steps echoing in the empty space, and leaped up the stairs two at a time and onto the stage. There she fumbled with the heavy velvet curtains, looking for the center opening. Once through, she began feeling her way in the darkness. When she hit the solid wall of the prop room exterior, she slid her hand sideways to locate the doorframe, then fumbled for the doorknob. Finding it, she swung open the door and flipped on the light to make the path easier for Sky to navigate.

Fifer saw something move out of the corner of her eye. “Aah!” she cried.

A man with a peg leg and a ship captain’s hat blinked back at her. He drew his sword. “Arrr,” he growled. “Move away!”

“Captain Ahab—I’m Fifer Stowe!” Fifer exclaimed, eyeing his sword and raising her hand, ready to throw a component at him if necessary. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Sky’s footsteps approached, and a moment later she reached Fifer. “Oh!” she said when she saw the statue’s weapon raised, but then she relaxed. “Hello, sir. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Yaaar,” said Captain Ahab. “Where is she?”

Fifer frowned. “You mean Frieda Stubbs?”

“I mean the whale! Where’s that beautiful blue whale?”

“Not this again,” Sky muttered. “Hey, Captain, Spike Furious is far away at sea doing good deeds, but she most certainly sends her love. And… could I please borrow your sword for a while?”