Storm Glass
Storm Glass
Maria V. Snyder
Untrained.Untested.Unleashed.With her unique magical abilities, Opal Cowan has always felt unsure of her place at Sitia’s magic academy – but now it’s time to test her powers in the real world. Under threat from a deadly massacre, the powerful Stormdancer clan need Opal’s unusual skills to protect their people.And their plea is impossible to resist, especially when it comes from mysterious, mercurial Kade.Yet pulling her powers in unfamiliar directions pushes Opal to uncover a new kind of magic as stunningly potent as it is frightening, with danger and deception rising around her, will Opal’s untested abilities destroy her – or save them all?A CHRONICLES OF IXIA NOVEL'A compelling new fantasy series’ – Rhianna Pratchett, SFX on Poison Study The Chronicles of IxiaPoison StudyMagic StudyFire StudyStorm GlassSea GlassSpy GlassShadow Study
storm glass
‘We have a mission for you,’ Zitora explained. She had twisted her honey–brown hair into a complex braid. The end of the braid reached her hips, but she fidgeted with it, twirling it around and through her fingers.
A mission from the Masters! I leaned forward.
‘The Stormdancers’ glass orbs have been shattering,’ Master Jewelrose said.
‘Oh.’ I relaxed in my chair. Not a magical mission.
‘Do you know how important these orbs are, child?’ Master Bloodgood asked.
I remembered my lessons about the Stormdancer Clan. Their magicians—called Stormdancers—had the unique ability to siphon a storm’s energy into an orb, taming the storm’s killing winds and rain, and providing an energy source for the clan.
But why me? I was still learning. ‘You need a master glassmaker. My father—’
‘Time is of the essence, child.’ Master Bloodgood’s tone saddened. ‘When an orb shatters, it kills a Stormdancer.’
Also by New York Times bestselling author
Maria V. Snyder
The Chronicles of Ixia
POISON STUDY
MAGIC STUDY
FIRE STUDY
STORM GLASS
SEA GLASS
SPY GLASS
The Insider series
INSIDE OUT
OUTSIDE IN
Avry of Kazan series
TOUCH OF POWER
SCENT OF MAGIC
www.miraink.co.uk
Storm Glass
Maria V. Snyder
www.miraink.co.uk (http://www.miraink.co.uk)
To my sister, Karen Philips, for all the advice, support and good times (BFF). This book has a definite sister vibe!
Chapter 1
THE HOT AIR pressed against my face as I entered the glass factory. The heat and the smell of burning coal surrounded me in a comforting embrace. I paused to breathe in the thick air. The roar of the kilns sounded as sweet as my mother’s voice.
“Opal!” Aydan yelled above the noise. “Are you going to stand there all day? We have work to do.” He gestured with a thin gnarled hand.
I hurried to join him. Working in the heat had turned his gray hair into a frizzy mop. Dirt streaked his hands. He grimaced in pain when he sat at his workbench, rubbing his lower back with a fist.
“You’ve been shoveling coal again,” I admonished. He tried to look innocent, but before he could lie, I asked, “What happened to your apprentice?”
“Ran off once he figured out how hard it is to turn fire into ice.” Aydan grunted.
“Well, I’m here now.”
“You’re late.”
“Sorry, I had a…test.” I sighed. Another frustrating, fruitless endeavor. Not only had I failed to light the fire, but I knocked over the candles, spilling hot wax all over my classmate Pazia’s clothes and burning her skin. Her expensive silk tunic was ruined. She sneered in disdain when I offered to replace her shirt. Nothing new. Pazia’s hostility spanned my entire four years at the Keep. Why would I expect my last year to be any different?
After starting my fifth year of lessons at the Magician’s Keep, I had hoped to be able to do more with my magic. Pazia’s abilities had grown so much since we sat next to each other during our very first session that the Master Magicians considered allowing her to take the Master- level test.
I’d learned about Sitia’s history, politics, how to fight and about the uses for magic, but my ability to tap into the power source remained elusive. Doubts flared and the nagging feeling of being limited to one magical skill churned in my chest. And it didn’t help my confidence when I overheard my fellow students calling me the One-Trick Wonder.
“Jealousy,” Aydan had said when I told him about my nickname. “You saved Sitia.”
I thought of the day—over four years ago—when I helped Liaison Yelena capture those evil souls. She had done all the work, I was merely a conduit. I tried to downplay my involvement, but Aydan remained stubborn.
“You’re a hero and those children can’t stand it.”
Remembering his words made me smile. Calling fifteen to twenty-year-olds children was typical for Aydan, a proud curmudgeon.
He tapped my arm with a blowpipe. “Stop daydreaming and gather me a slug.”
I grabbed the hollow rod and opened the oven. Intense light burst from the furnace as if a piece of the sun was trapped inside. I spun the end of the rod in the molten glass and twisted it up and out, removing taffylike ball before my eyebrows and eyelashes could be singed off again.
The cherry-red slug on the end of the iron pulsed as if alive. Aydan blew through the pipe then covered the hole. A small bubble appeared in the molten glass. Resting the pipe on the metal arms of his gaffer’s bench, Aydan rolled the pipe back and forth, shaping the glass.
I helped him as he created an intricate vase with a twist at the bottom so the piece actually rested on its side yet could still hold water. In his hands, turning glass into art appeared to be an easy task. I loved the unique properties of molten glass which could be molded into such wonderful objects. We worked for hours, but the time flew.
When he finished his artwork, Aydan stood on creaky legs and said the words that were the reason I came to help him after my Keep classes. “Your turn.”
He exchanged places with me and grabbed a hollow pipe. While he gathered a slug, I made sure all the metal tools lying on the bench were in their proper places. All I needed was my annoying younger brother telling me to hurry, and my patient older sister helping me to complete the feeling of being in my family’s glass factory.
Sitting at the bench was home—familiar and comfortable. Here and here alone, I was in control. The possibilities endless and no one could tell me otherwise.
All thoughts fled when Aydan placed the pipe in front of me. Glass cooled quickly and I had no time to dwell on anything but shaping the molten ball. Using metal tweezers, I pulled and plucked. When the slug transformed into a recognizable image, I blew through the end of the pipe. The piece’s core glowed as if lit by an inner fire.
My one magical trick—the ability to insert a thread of magic inside the glass statue. Only magicians could see the captured light.
Aydan whistled in appreciation of the finished piece. Technically his ability to light fires with magic made him a magician, but since he didn’t possess any other talent he hadn’t been invited to study at the Keep. I shouldn’t have been invited, either. I could make my special glass animals at my home in Booruby.
“Damn, girl.” Aydan slapped me on the back. “That’s a dead-on copy of Master Jewelrose’s red-tailed hawk! Did you make that for her?”
“Yes. She needed another piece.” I never knew what I would create when I sat down at the gaffer’s bench, but my time spent helping Master Jewelrose care for her hawk must have influenced me. The core glowed bright red and called to me with a song of longing. Each of my creations had a distinctive voice that sounded inside me. No one else could hear its call.
“See? That’s another talent you have.” He bustled about and placed the hawk into the annealing oven so it could cool slowly. “Magicians can now communicate over vast distances with these animals of yours.”
“Only those who have the power of mental communication.” Another skill I lacked, mind reading. For those who possessed the ability, they only needed to hold one of my animals and they could “talk” to each other through the magic trapped inside. I’d admit to feeling a measure of pride over their usefulness, but I would never brag about it. Not like Pazia, who flaunted everything she did.
“Pah! It’s still one of the most important discoveries of recent years. Stop being so modest. Here—” he handed me a shovel “—put more coal in the kiln, I don’t want the temperature to drop overnight.”
End of pep talk. I scooped up the special white coal and added it to the fire under the kiln. Since Aydan sold his glass pieces as art, he only needed one—a small shop compared to my family’s eight kilns.
When I finished, my garments clung to my sweaty skin and strands of my brown hair stuck to my face. Coal dust scratched my throat.
“Can you help me mix?” Aydan asked before I could leave.
“Only if you promise to hire a new apprentice tomorrow.”
He grumbled and grouched, but agreed. We mixed sands from different parts of Sitia. A secret recipe developed generations ago. It would be combined with soda ash and lime before it could be melted into glass.
As I tried to trick Aydan into telling me where the pink-colored sand came from, a messenger from the Keep arrived. A first-year student, he wrinkled his nose at the heat.
“Opal Cowan?” he asked.
I nodded and he huffed. “Finally! I’ve been searching the Citadel for you. You’re wanted back at the Keep.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who wants me?”
He glowed with glee as if he were my younger brother delivering news of my impending punishment from our parents.
“The Master Magicians.”
I had to be in big trouble. No other reason for the Masters to send for me. As I rushed after the messenger— an ambitious fellow to be running errands for the Masters in his first year, and who’d already decided I wasn’t worth talking to—I thought of the mishap this morning with Pazia. She had wanted to get me expelled from my first day. Perhaps she finally succeeded.
We hurried through the Citadel’s streets. Even after four years, the city’s construction still amazed me. All the buildings had been built with white marble slabs streaked with green veins. If I was alone, I would have trailed my hands over the walls as I walked, daydreaming of creating a city made of glass.
Instead, I ran past the buildings as the brilliant color dulled with the darkening sky. The Keep’s guards waved us through—another bad sign. We vaulted up the stairs two at a time to reach the administration building. Nestled in the northeast corner of the Citadel, the Keep’s campus with its four imposing towers marked the boundaries. Inside, the buildings had been constructed from a variety of colored marble and hardwoods.
The administration’s peach-and-yellow blocks used to soothe me, but not today. The messenger abandoned me at the entrance to the Masters’ meeting room. Hot from my sprint, I wanted to remove my cloak, but it hid my sweat-stained shirt and work pants. I rubbed my face, trying to get the dirt off and pulled my long hair into a neat bun.
Before I knocked, another possible reason for my summons dawned. I had lingered too long at the glass factory and missed my evening riding lesson. In the last year of instruction at the Keep, the apprentice class learned about horse care and riding to prepare us for when we graduated to magician status. As magicians we would be required to travel around the lands of the eleven clans of Sitia to render aid where needed.
Perhaps the Stable Master had reported my absence to the Masters. The image of facing the three magicians and the Stable Master together caused a chill to shake my bones. I turned away from the door, seeking escape. It opened.
“Do not hover about, child. You’re not in trouble,” First Magician Bain Bloodgood said. He gestured for me to follow him into the room.
With curly gray hair sticking out at odd intervals and a long blue robe, the old man’s appearance didn’t match his status as the most powerful magician in Sitia. In fact, Third Magician Irys Jewelrose’s stern demeanor hinted at more power than Master Bloodgood’s wrinkled face. And if someone passed Second Magician Zitora Cowan in the street, that person would not even think the young woman possessed enough talent to endure the Master-level test.
Sitting around an oval table, the three Masters stared at me. I quashed the desire to hide. After all, Master Bloodgood had said I wasn’t in trouble.
“Sit down, child,” First Magician said.
I perched on the edge of my seat. Zitora smiled at me and I relaxed a bit. We were both members of the Cowan clan, and she always made time from her busy schedule to talk to me. And, at twenty-five years old, she was only six years older than me.
I glanced around the room. Maps of Sitia and Ixia decorated the walls, and an oversize geographical map with its edges dropping off the sides covered the mahogany table.
“We have a mission for you,” Zitora said. She had twisted her honey-brown hair into a complex braid. The end of the braid reached her hips, but she fidgeted with it, twirling it around and through her fingers.
A mission for the Masters! I leaned forward.
“The Stormdancers’ glass orbs have been shattering,” Master Jewelrose said.
“Oh.” I relaxed in my chair. Not a magical mission.
“Do you know how important those orbs are, child?” Master Bloodgood asked.
I remembered my lessons about the Stormdance Clan. Their magicians—called Stormdancers—had the unique ability to siphon a storm’s energy into an orb. The benefits were twofold: tame the storm’s killing winds and rain, and provide an energy source for the clan’s other industries. “Very important.”
“And this is a critical time of the year. The cooling season is when the storms from the Jade Sea are most frequent and strong,” Zitora said.
“But doesn’t the clan have master glassmakers? Surely they can fix the problem?”
“The old glassmaker died, child. Those left behind were trained to make the orbs, but the glass is flawed. You need to help them find and correct the problem.”
Why me? I was still learning. “You need to send a master glassmaker. My father—”
“Is in Booruby with all the other experts, but…” Master Jewelrose paused. “The problem might not be with the glass. Perhaps the old glassmaker used magic when he crafted the orbs. Perhaps magic similar to yours.”
My heart melted as if thrown into a kiln. Events had become too hot too quick and the results could have cracks. I had worked with glass since I could remember, yet there was still so much to learn. “When…when do we leave?”
“Today,” Zitora said.
My alarm must have been obvious.
“Time is of the essence, child.” Master Bloodgood’s tone saddened. “When an orb shatters, it kills a Stormdancer.”
Chapter 2
I GAPED AT Master Bloodgood. There weren’t many Stormdancers born in the clan; to lose even one could threaten the western clans of Sitia. “How many?”
“Two have died. The first time an orb failed, the clan thought it was a fluke, after the second, they stopped dancing.”
A fire of worry flared in my stomach. Just one full- strength storm could wipe out the four clans whose lands bordered the Jade Sea, leaving behind a wasteland. A huge responsibility. Problems with the glass I could probably handle, but with magic… No way.
“Go pack your saddlebags, child. You will leave as soon as you are ready. Zitora will go with you.”
“And how many guards will accompany me this time?” She sighed.
The entire population of the Keep knew Zitora’s displeasure over being accompanied by guards on her missions. Having only passed the Master-level test five years ago, most magicians still thought of her as an apprentice instead of the second-most-powerful magician. And with the horrible events that led to the death of Roze Featherstone, the former First Magician, the Councillors of Sitia were being overprotective of the three remaining Masters.
“Just the two of you this time,” Master Jewelrose said with a smile. “You can move faster.”
Zitora stood with a burst of energy. “We’ll leave within the hour.”
“Contact us if you need help. Opal, have you finished my new glass animal?”
“Yes. It’s at Aydan’s factory. I think you’ll like this one.”
“I love them all. It’s a shame they lose their spark after a while.” Master Jewelrose grew thoughtful. “But it makes sense. The magic inside is a certain quantity. Once used, it’s gone.”
“Job security for Opal.” Master Bloodgood stroked the map in front of him. His gaze settled on me. “We have been searching for another magician to apprentice to you. No luck so far. The Council’s been bugging us to share your wonderful glass…messengers.”
Right now, I made them for the Masters and for magicians who were on assignment. At least one magician carried one of my glass animals in each town.
“It would be helpful if we could find another able to duplicate her skill.” Master Jewelrose agreed.
My skill. Singular. The One-Trick Wonder. I should be content with providing those messengers for the magicians. Content with my role in life. But I’d seen the wonders magic can do and I wanted more. Magic and glass had so much in common. Both were fluid. Both held endless potential to be shaped and used in various ways. I desired to gather the magic to me and spin it into a marvel.
“Let’s go.” Zitora strode toward the door and I hurried after her.
She paused when we reached the outside. Darkness blanketed the Keep’s campus and the smell of burning wood tainted the air. The empty walkways reflected the weak moonlight. The other students were probably in their rooms, studying and preparing for tomorrow.
“We can get in a couple hours of travel tonight,” Zitora said. “Go get a change of clothes and pack a few essential supplies. We’ll buy food on the road. I’ll meet you in the barn. You have a horse, right?”
“Yes, but I just started my lessons.” Another worry.
“Which horse is yours?”
“A painted mare named Quartz.”
“The Sandseed bred horse? How did you get so lucky?”
“Yelena was visiting the Keep when the new herd of horses arrived. She told the Stable Master to save Quartz for me.”
Zitora laughed. “And Yelena is the only person the Stable Master listens to when it comes to horses. There are hidden perks when you save someone’s life.”
“But I didn’t—”
She waved my protest away with her nimble fingers. It had been thoughtful of Yelena to choose a horse for me, but once the story about her involvement flew through the campus population like sand grains in the wind, I lost the few acquaintances I had to jealousy. Again.
Liaison Yelena was the true hero of Sitia and Ixia. If she talked to a student, the gossips mulled over the implications for weeks.
“Don’t worry about not being an expert with a horse. Quartz will follow Sudi. All you need to do is stay in the saddle.” She moved to leave, then stopped. “Opal, go visit the armory before you come to the barn.”
“Why?”
“It’s time to trade in your practice sais for real ones.”
“Thirteen inches or fifteen inches?” Captain Marrok, the Keep’s new Weapons Master asked with impatience, after I’d grabbed my supplies and cleaned up.
When I didn’t respond, he yanked my right arm out and measured my forearm from wrist to elbow.
“Thirteen inches should work.” He rummaged around the armory. Swords hung on the walls and spears glinted from racks. Arrows lined up like soldiers, and the odor of metallic sweat and leather filled the air.
I rubbed my forearm, massaging the thick muscles and tracing my burn scars with a finger. One benefit of working with glass, strong arms, but they limited my flexibility when fighting. By the end of my first year, the Weapons Master had decided that, even though I could heft and move a staff of wood like a pontil iron, I was too slow. He made the same assessment of me with a sword and a spear.
I found the sais by accident when I helped clean up after a practice session. They resembled strange short swords, but instead of a flat blade, the weapon’s main shaft was thick—about half an inch wide near the hilt and a quarter of an inch at the tip—and rounded yet with eight flat sides. Octagonal, the Weapons Master had called it. Only the tip of the shaft was sharp. He was thrilled I had discovered them, claiming they were the perfect weapon for me as they needed arm strength and hand dexterity.
“Here, try these. If they’re too heavy, I’ll find you a lighter pair.” The Weapons Master handed me two sais, one for each hand. The silver metal shone as if recently polished. The U-shaped guard pointed toward the tip of the weapon so the sais resembled a three-pronged pitchfork with a very long center tine.
I executed a few blocks and strikes to get the feel of the weapons.
“These are heavier than the practice ones,” I said.
“Too heavy? I started to add weight to your practice pair, but the Masters are in a rush. That’s always the way.” He tsked.
“They’re fine.”
“Practice as often as you can. You might want to cut bigger slits in your cloak so you can grab them quicker.” He hurried over to a large chest in the corner of the armory. Lifting the lid, he sorted through the contents and removed a belt with two short scabbards. “Wear this when you carry them. Horses don’t like to be poked with the pointy ends. Not good for your legs, neither.”
I thanked him and ran toward the stables. The weight of the weapons hanging from my waist seemed heavier. Would I need to use them? Could I defend myself? This whole mission felt as if I’d been wrenched from a kiln before I could reach the perfect temperature.
In the stables, Zitora helped the Stable Master saddle Quartz. The Stable Master muttered and fussed to no one in particular as he yanked straps and adjusted the reins. In the weak lantern light, Quartz’s reddish-brown areas appeared black and the white parts looked gray. She nickered at me in greeting and I stroked her nose. Her face was brown except for a white patch between her eyes.
Already saddled, Sudi, Zitora’s roan-colored mare shuffled with impatience.
When the Stable Master handed me Quartz’s reins, he said, “You’re going to be sore tomorrow and in outright pain by the next day. Stop often to stretch your muscles and rest your back.”
“There won’t be time,” Zitora said as she mounted Sudi.
“Why am I not surprised? Dashing off before she’s properly trained is becoming standard procedure around here.” The Stable Master shook his head and ranted under his breath. He ambled past the horse stalls, checking water buckets.
“Do you have a Barbasco yam?” Zitora asked. “That’ll help with the pain.”
“I don’t need it. How bad can it be?”
It was bad. And not just regular bad. After three days, the pain was back-wrenching, legs-burning, mind- numbing bad.
Zitora set a killer pace. We only stopped for food, to rest and care for the horses, and to sleep a few hours. Not long enough to wring out the exhaustion soaked into my bones.
Memories of a similar trip threatened my sleep and nagged at me. The night Master Jewelrose had startled me from a deep slumber and hustled me onto her horse before I knew what was happening. I’d clung to her as we bolted for the Citadel. All I had known during that frantic five-day trip, was my sister needed me. Enough knowledge to ignore the pain.
I focused on the Stormdancers’ troubles to distract myself. We had left the Citadel through the south gate, headed southwest for a day to reach the border of the Stormdance lands, then turned west. Zitora hoped to arrive at the coast in another three days.
At various times throughout the trip, my worries over the mission had flared, and doubts jabbed my thoughts. If magic was involved, I wouldn’t be able to solve the problem and precious time would be wasted.
On the night of our fourth day, we stopped at a market in Thunder Valley. Zitora bought a Barbasco yam for me and managed to hand it over without any gloating. Impressive. My brother would have done an “I told you so” dance for weeks.
The market buzzed with activity. Vendors sold the usual fruits, vegetables and meats, but a strange shrub was heaped on a couple of tables. About three feet tall, the plant’s leaves were hairy and separated into leaflets.
“That’s indigo,” Zitora said when I asked. “It’s used to make ink, one of the Stormdance industries. They also make metal goods like those sais you carry.”
And they harvested storms. Busy clan.
I chewed on the yam as we hurried through our shopping. I would have enjoyed lingering over the glass- wares, but suppressed my disappointment. No sense complaining when exhaustion lined Zitora’s heart- shaped face, reminding me this wasn’t a pleasure trip. Perhaps we could stop on the way home.
After we secured our fresh supplies to the saddles, we mounted. I braced for the now-familiar jolt of protest from my abused muscles, but was surprised when none came. The yam worked fast.
Amusement lit her pale yellow eyes.
“Thanks for the yam, Zit…er…Master Cowan.”
Her humor faded and I berated myself for my slip of the tongue. She had been adamant about the students calling her Master Cowan. We all knew her frustration caused by everyone’s casual attitude toward her. But she was so sweet. When she noticed me and remembered details about my life, I wanted to confide in her and become her best friend.
She sighed. “Call me Zitora. I shouldn’t expect respect if I haven’t earned it.”
“That’s not it.”
“What do you mean?”
Feeling as though I’d melted more glass than I could handle, I cast about for the right words. “You’ll always be Zitora to the students. You’re not…intimidating enough. You don’t have the stern demeanor of Master Jewelrose or the walking textbook wisdom of Master Bloodgood. You can require us to call you Master, but we don’t feel the title in our hearts.” Her annoyance deepened toward anger, so I hurried on. “But you’re… approachable. You’re someone to confide in, to go to when in trouble. I think if all the Masters were unapproachable, the campus environment would be stilted. Uncomfortable.”
When she didn’t say anything, I added, “But that’s my impression. I could be wrong.” I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. The One-Trick Wonder telling a Master Magician about how she was perceived was as ill- advised as the Masters sending me to the Stormdance Clan to fix their orbs.
Without a word, Zitora spurred Sudi into a gallop. See? She was too nice to chastise me. Master Jewel- rose would have sent me to scrub the kitchen floors for a week.
But, when we finally stopped to sleep in the early- morning hours, and as I tried to get comfortable on the hard shale covering the ground, I thought her choice of a stop-over site could be in retaliation for my comment.
Zitora remained by our small fire, but noticed me squirming in my blankets. “It’s all like this.” She gestured to the ground. “From here on out.”
“Like what?”
“Shale. Sheets and sheets of it. A few smooth places, others riddled with grooves or broken into gravel. All you’ll see under your feet is an ugly gray until we reach the coast. It’s called The Flats. No trees. A few bushes. Then… Well, The Cliffs before the sea are spectacular. Carved by wind and water, the piles of shale have been sculpted into beautiful shapes and bridges.”
She returned to staring at the fire. “Go to sleep, Opal. You need the rest.”
I was unable to keep my eyes open and too tired to question if she used magic on me.
For once, my overactive imagination and past memories didn’t invade my dreams.
My sleep remained blissful until a sharp point pricked my throat, waking me. Alarmed, I stared at a sword’s blade hovering mere inches from my chin. My gaze followed the long sharp weapon to its owner.
A person wearing a gray mask loomed over me.
Chapter 3
“GET UP SLOWLY,” the man ordered. “No sudden moves. And keep your hands where I can see them.”
Hard to argue with an armed bandit. I sat and pushed my blankets off. The man stepped back as I stood. The tip of his sword dropped toward the ground, easing the iron vise of panic clamped around my heart. I released a shaky breath.
His shirt and pants were speckled with a variety of grays, black and white. His hood and mask matched the fabric of his clothes. Brilliant blue eyes stared back at me.
A laugh drew my attention to the right. Zitora was before three people who also wore gray camouflage. They pointed their swords at her. Interesting, she didn’t look so sweet now. Red splotches spread on her cheeks. Anger or fear, I couldn’t tell.
“This is it?” the man standing closest to Zitora asked in amazement. “The Council sends two students to help the Stormdance Clan? This is too good to be true!” He cackled. “What are you…seniors? No. Don’t tell me…you’re a novice.” He pointed his blade at me. “And you’re a senior.” The blade swung back to Zitora.
I had slept in my cloak and the weight of my sais underneath the garment pulled at my waist. She had insisted I stay armed at all times. Her sword rested on the ground nearby. I could reach through the slits in my cloak and draw my weapons.
I sought a signal from Zitora. Her pointed expression warned me to wait.
“What do you want?” Zitora asked.
“To stop you from helping the Stormdancers, but now I’m thinking of letting you go. You’ll probably do more harm than good.” The leader cackled again. His laugh grated on my nerves as if he gargled broken glass.
The man who woke me grabbed my hand. He showed my burn scars to the leader. “She is a glassmaker. We must stick to the plan.” Blue Eyes released my arm.
“Aww. I can’t kill two little girls,” the leader said.
The word kill caused a hot flush of fear to race through me.
“This one’s a magician,” a woman said, gesturing at Zitora.
“Is she too strong for you?” the leader mocked.
The woman stiffened. “We have her firmly in our control.” She glanced at the person next to her.
Through the haze of fear in my mind, I realized Zitora hadn’t moved more than her mouth since I woke.
“And here we were all ready for a big fight,” the leader said. “Brought the magicians, the muscle, the swordsman, expecting guards and Keep-trained magicians. Overkill for sure!” He laughed at his own joke.
Sweat rolled down my back at hearing kill again.
“Why do you want to stop us from helping the Stormdancers?” Zitora asked.
Anger reddened the leader’s ears. “We want them to—”
“Shut up,” Blue Eyes said. “The less said, the better. Finish the mission before we are discovered.”
Perhaps the cackler wasn’t the leader. An intelligent intensity radiated from Blue Eyes.
“We can take them along,” suggested the woman. “Ransom them.”
“No,” I said with force. My vehement outburst surprised me as much as our attackers. I would rather die than be a kidnap victim again.
“Last chance to tell us why you’re here,” Zitora said. Authority laced her tone.
Snickers answered her. Only Blue Eyes considered her words. His grip tightened on his sword.
“The benefit of appearing so young is I’m constantly underestimated.” Zitora raised her arms, warning me she would use her magic.
Breathing became difficult and fear stabbed my heart. Action would soon be needed. Could I fight or would I be too terrified to move?
This time the laughter didn’t sound. The magician gestured with alarm.
“Now,” Zitora ordered.
I yanked my sais from their holders as Blue Eyes lunged. With no time to think, I stepped in front of Zitora to protect her, blocking his sword. The ring of metal sounded as the strike vibrated through my arm.
He froze in place. The others rushed us, but when they reached Blue Eyes’ side, they were immobilized, as well, coming no closer to us.
“That was fun.” Strain vibrated in Zitora’s words as sweat beaded on her forehead.
“What? It’s over?” My body pumped with the need for action. I glanced between her and our attackers.
A tight grin flashed. “Perhaps being approachable isn’t so bad.”
“Do you have them all?” I asked.
“Yep, but now what?” She considered. “I can’t hold them long.”
To take control of four people’s bodies required a great deal of skill and power. Zitora trembled with the effort. Her strength impressed me. I knew it shouldn’t. She was Second Magician, after all. And Zitora’s best ability was being able to wrap magic around a person, keeping them immobile. Yet seeing her in action enlightened me.
“Opal…fetch the darts.” She huffed. “And vial…from my saddlebags.”
I rushed to comply and soon returned with four darts and a small bottle.
“Dip them…do you know?”
“It’s Curare.” The words croaked out. I swallowed what felt like a lump of sand. Curare was a powerful drug. It paralyzed the muscles in a person’s body for a full day and blocked the ability to use magic.
I shuddered, remembering when I had been forced to prick Yelena with the drug. My guilt flared, even though Yelena never blamed me, and she even admired the trick my kidnapper had used. I wish I could say the same for my Keep colleagues.
You can’t let the past ruin your future, I chanted over in my mind. Yelena’s words made perfect sense, yet I couldn’t force my heart to believe them.
She gestured to the ambushers. I understood and treated each dart with the drug then jabbed each attacker in the arm. After waiting ten seconds, Zitora relaxed. She lowered her arms and the four bandits slumped to the ground.
Appearing as if her bones had melted, she dropped down to a sitting position. Her energy gone. I retrieved her water flask and a few baka leaves, handing them to her.
“Thanks.” She chewed for a while, lost in thought.
The leaves revived her somewhat, but she remained sitting. Minutes passed. I fidgeted and wondered if I should put my weapons away.
Instead, I checked the horses and fed them. My hands trembled and I blamed the heavy feed bags for the shaking. Quartz rubbed her face on my arm in a comforting gesture.
Eventually Zitora joined me. She hunched over and moved as if afraid of falling. “We should go.”
“What about them?” I asked.
She smiled. “And here they were, all prepared for a fight. No time to properly interrogate them.” She rummaged in her saddlebags, uncovered the glass unicorn I had made for her and rested it in the palm of her hand.
The core glowed with an inner fire as it sang to me. The vibrations from its tune hummed deep within my soul. It brightened and quieted when Zitora stared at the unicorn, communicating with another magician. What did Master Bloodgood call them? Glass messengers? Interesting.
Finally she said, “Irys will contact the magician stationed in Thunder Valley. He’ll inform the Stormdance’s soldiers. They’ll send a cleanup crew. Irys wasn’t happy about the attack. She plans to personally interrogate them when they’re in custody.”
Considering they were going to kill us, they deserved to be interviewed by Master Jewelrose. The morning’s events filtered through my mind and snagged on one question. “Zitora, why did you let them ambush us? You had to know they were coming. Right?”
A hint of mischievousness sparked in her tired eyes. “I knew. I wanted to see what they were after. My mind reading skills are limited. I knew they intended to accost us, but not why. And I can’t hold them physically and examine them mentally. That’s beyond my powers. Irys could do both, but probably not to all four.” She considered. “A calculated risk, but it worked.”
“No thanks to me,” I murmured.
“Did another block that sword thrust? Funny, I didn’t see him. Guess I was too busy using magic to notice.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you. You’re ruining my image of you as the sweet Master.”
“Good. Now go take the masks off and examine our attackers’ faces.”
“Why?”
“In case they escape. You’ll be able to identify them.”
“They could escape?” An alarming thought.
“Nothing’s impossible, Opal. You should know that by now.”
True. I thought about how Yelena had managed to escape after being paralyzed with Curare, a seemingly impossible situation. So why hadn’t I been able to escape the same woman? Twelve days she held me, but I wasn’t Yelena. Not as smart or as brave. By the end of my ordeal, I had been willing to do anything for Alea. Even pricking Yelena with Curare. Although I wondered, if faced with the same situation now, would I react the same? Did being older and wiser make me braver?
Painful memories threatened to overwhelm me. I bit my lip and focused on the task at hand, identifying our attackers. I pulled their masks off one by one revealing three men and one woman. I studied their features, committing them to memory, sculpting their profiles in my mind. I wondered if I could fashion glass statues to resemble people instead of animals. An interesting and appealing prospect that would have to wait until we returned home.
Blue Eyes stared at me with cold calculation. Long strands of black hair had sprung from his single braid. I stayed out of reach even though I knew he couldn’t move. The drug only allowed a person to breathe, swallow and hear.
Clean shaven. No wrinkles lined his ginger-colored skin. I guessed he was in his early twenties. My attention kept returning to his diamond-shaped eyes fringed with thick lashes. I forced myself to search for distinctive features. He had a strong nose and an inch-long scar on his throat below his left ear.
When I returned to Zitora and the horses, my back stung as if Blue Eyes had the power to burn a hole right through my cloak and skin.
“Should we wait for the guards?” I asked Zitora when she mounted Sudi.
“No time. Don’t worry, they’re not going anywhere.”
“What about predators?” A strange prickle crawled along my spine. It felt as if Blue Eyes’ gaze had transformed into a spider clinging to the skin on my back, and that no matter how far I traveled, I wouldn’t be able to lose the spider.
“If I loop a protective net around them, will you feel better?”
“Yes.”
She guided her horse closer to the prone forms. Her brow creased and I guessed she pulled a thread of magic from the power source blanketing the world. Only magicians could tap into this power. When I worked with molten glass, I could draw magic from the source, but couldn’t replicate the action without being in “glass mode.”
I ignored the spike of envy. Zitora looped a protective strand around the paralyzed people and then connected it back to the power source so it remained in place. Or, at least, that was what she told me she had done. My awareness of magic was only through the glass. I couldn’t see or touch or smell it.
The protection would guide an animal past the site without incident, but a human would break the net.
“What happens if one of the Stormdance Clan members stumbles on them? Or worse, if one of their colleagues is waiting for us to leave to help them?” I asked.
“No one lives on The Flats. And I can’t sense anyone nearby. What is really worrying you?”
I couldn’t pinpoint the reason for my unease.
“Perhaps you’re still upset over the attack.”
“Perhaps.”
But as we rode away, the spider of doubt burrowed deep under my skin. If I chased my thoughts to the depths of my memories, I might match the anxious feeling to the incident over four years ago when I helped Yelena capture those malevolent souls. Match it to the fact that I heard their voices calling to me in my dreams from time to time.
Which is why I wouldn’t contemplate those feelings— pure imagination on my part. I hoped.
Chapter 4
I DISMISSED THE whole crazy notion of hearing the voices of the dead and concentrated on keeping up with Zitora. Galloping over the hard shale ground increased the jolting through my body. I clung to Quartz’s mane to keep from bouncing off her saddle.
By the time we reached the coast the next morning, I couldn’t get off Quartz fast enough. We stopped where The Flats transformed into The Cliffs—a sheer drop-off to the sand below. The sea sparkled as if a million diamonds floated on the surface. It spread before me in all its glorious blue-green waters. White foam capped the waves and fingers of rocks pointed to the horizon. The moist breeze fanned me, smelling of salt.
Creeping to the edge, I glanced down and sank to my knees. I had never been this high before. Five times the height of the Master Magician’s tower; I guessed the distance spanned a hundred and fifty feet.
Zitora joined me.
“Where are the Stormdancers?” I asked. No life stirred on The Flats and only seabirds circled below. “I don’t see any signs of them.”
“Farther south. This is the only smooth part of The Cliffs.” She pointed to the left. “And it’s where the trail starts.”
A narrow ledge of shale jutted from the edge of The Cliffs. A pregnant mare wouldn’t fit on it. I eyed Quartz’s middle. My leg would probably dangle over nothing.
“You’re not afraid of heights are you?” Zitora asked.
“I guess I’m about to find out.”
“We’ll walk the horses down.”
“Good idea.”
“Just follow me and keep your eyes on Sudi.” Zitora squeezed my shoulder.
During the first hour of our descent, I wasn’t sure if I led Quartz down or if she guided me. My legs tended to freeze in place whenever I contemplated the thin ribbon of ground under my feet, and my breath came in short huffs whenever I caught sight of the rocks gleaming below.
The pungent scent of salt and fish dominated my senses. And the constant shushing of the waves filled my ears. Eventually, the soothing rise and fall of the water calmed my breathing, but the occasional harsh cry of a seagull would jolt a gasp from me.
Once we descended into the twisting network of the wind-sculpted cliffs, my fears disappeared. The Stormdance Clan had carved the trail through ripples of shale. Stunning wings of rock reached out to the sea and between these wings were caves and grooves.
Lower down on the cliff, the water added its own artistic touch, carving deep caverns and wearing away enough rock to leave bridges and chimneys behind.
According to Zitora, the Stormdancers lived in the caves closer to the sand. The higher ones were all empty. The lower ones had wood and cloth screens pulled across the entrances. Probably for privacy. When we finally arrived at the base of The Cliffs, the sun shone directly overhead—midafternoon. In a large cavern, we found a small group sitting around a fire.
Before going inside, I glanced up. This time, the sheer beauty and height of The Cliffs pressed down on me.
“Opal, give Quartz’s reins to Tal, he’ll take care of her,” Zitora said.
A young man with skin the color of coal dust flashed me a shy smile. Tal led both horses along the sand.
“Where are they going?” I asked.
Another man had joined us. Around forty years old, he appeared to be about twenty years older than Tal. “We have temporary stables set up past the outcropping.” He pointed. The sun had tanned his skin to a warm brown and his short black hair was peppered with flecks of gold. “If a storm comes, we can move them into the higher caves for protection.” He smiled, showing the reason for the wrinkles.
“I should go help unsaddle—”
“Don’t worry. Tal will take care of them. We don’t get many horses here, but Tal knows what to do. Come inside, we have much to discuss.”
I followed Zitora and the man. With Tal gone, only four others waited by the fire. The man introduced us to them. Nodin and Varun were brothers and, along with their sister, Indra, the three of them made the special glass orbs. The fourth, Kade, was a Stormdancer.
By their solemn and dire expressions, they didn’t appear happy to see us. The man—Raiden—was the camp manager.
“I sent the others back to the village,” Raiden said. “No sense having everyone here if we can’t dance. I hope you can help us out, Opal.”
“I don’t see how,” Kade said. He threw a stick into the fire and stood. “She’s younger than Tal.” He stalked out.
The silence thickened until Raiden sighed. “Bad times, but we’ve been through worse. I sent for an expert and here you are. I trust the Council and Master Cowan.” His round face and kind brown eyes radiated hope.
I knew I was supposed to respond with a comment about being the right person for the job, but I tended to agree with Kade. At least Raiden used Zitora’s title.
“Tell us what’s been happening,” Zitora said.
Raiden explained about the orbs shattering. “…when the energy is captured inside, the Stormdancer seals the orb with a rubber stopper and we transport the orb to one of our factories. But with these new orbs, as soon as they are sealed the energy bursts through them, sending shards of glass out with killer speed. We lost two Stormdancers.”
The three glassblowers seemed to sink down into themselves. Their guilt and pain piercing them as lethally as the glass debris had penetrated the Stormdancers.
“What is different with these orbs?” Zitora asked.
“Nothing!” Roused from his misery, Nodin jumped to his feet. “We’ve been following Father’s methods exactly. Same recipe. Same temperature. Same equipment.”
“How do you make them?” she asked.
Nodin began a lecture on glassmaking. I stopped him after a few sentences.
“Better to show me exactly what your father did to make the orbs,” I said.
They led me outside and up the trail.
“We make all the orbs before the two stormy seasons,” Nodin explained.
Out in the sunlight, the tight curls of his short black hair shone. The three siblings all had the same color of hair. Indra had pulled her shoulder-length curls into a ponytail and Varun had twisted his longer hair into rows of braids tight against his head.
“We’ll have to relight the fire,” Varun said.
“You let it go out?” I asked in amazement. Getting the kiln heated to the proper temperature could take days.
“We finished the orbs for the cooling season storms,” Indra snapped. “We were in the process of shutting it down until next year.”
“Is there another kiln nearby?” I asked.
Varun barked out a short laugh. “No. Nothing is nearby. We bring all our supplies when we arrive for the storm season.”
“We’re wasting time.” Indra glanced out to sea. Her brothers copied her. They seemed to be scenting the wind, judging the air. “Not much time left before the big storms hit. Our expert wants to see how we make the orbs. Let’s get to work.”
The kiln was housed in a large cave tucked behind a shale wall, protected from the wind and high water. A chimney had been drilled through the ceiling to vent the heat and smoke.
The glassmakers moved as one, reminding me of my family. While the brothers shoveled white coal, Indra gathered driftwood from a stack. Wood was easier to light than coal, but once a hot fire burned, more coal would be added.
Indra’s little jab at me hurt, but I didn’t want to stand there and do nothing. “Can I help?” I asked her.
I translated her grunt for assent. I collected wood. When we had a pile, the brothers made a lattice of branches. Nodin pulled out flint. Interesting how none of the three could light the fire with magic. I couldn’t, either, but I had assumed a Stormdancer could. I glanced around. Kade wasn’t in sight.
Zitora, though, hovered nearby with Raiden. She halted Nodin’s efforts. With the smallest of frowns, she lit the branches. When she looked away, the fire died down to a respectable burn.
“Can you keep the fire hot?” I asked her.
“How long?”
“Long enough for the coals to ignite?”
She nodded and once again the flames intensified.
A purse of appreciation settled on Nodin’s lips. “One benefit to having a Master Magician around.”
“And she’s good in a fight, too.” I winked at her.
“Time to add the sand,” Indra said.
The sand, soda ash and lime had been premixed and loaded onto a wheeled cart which had been parked in the back of the cave. Indra held a large metal bowl and a trowel. She paused before filling it. “How much?” she asked.
“Enough for two orbs,” I said.
She scooped sand. I grabbed a fistful of the mixture and carried it into the sunlight. Once there, I let the grains fall through my fingers, inspecting them as they fell. Yellow and brown grains, large and coarse were mixed with small white grains. A number of red-tinted particles and a few black specks peppered the mix.
“Our family’s secret recipe,” Varun said as he joined me on the ledge.
I considered. “Forty percent local sand, forty percent from the Krystal Clan’s sand quarry, fifteen percent from the Bloodgood Clan’s red beach and five percent lava flakes.”
He opened his mouth in astonishment. Closed it. Then stuttered, “That’s…that’s… There’s no way… Who told you?” Suspicion tainted his voice.
“The mixture.” He didn’t brighten with understanding. I asked him, “What other glasswares do you manufacture?”
“None. Our sole job is to make the orbs and protect the recipe. Only my family and the lead Stormdancer know the percentages.” He clutched my arm. “You’re the first to figure it out. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry.” I gently pried his hands off. “I won’t. I know how important it is. Growing up in a glass factory, my family made many different types of glasswares from drinking glasses to fancy bowls and custom vases. My father has hundreds of sand recipes for various colored glass, as well as glass with assorted qualities and clarities. Father delights in bringing home a new mix and making us guess the composition.” I smiled at the memory. Most fathers brought presents home for their children. Mine brought sand. My smile grew wider as I realized how excited my sisters and I had been when Father’s wagon was spotted in town, returning with a new batch of sand.
I brushed the sand from my fingers.
Varun gazed at me with frank curiosity. But before he could voice his question, Nodin joined us. “The coals are heating. We should have melt by dawn.”
Zitora’s magic had accelerated the process by a full day.
“Until then, let me show you the orbs we’ve made,” Nodin said.
I followed him along the cliff trail to a small cave high above the beach. We crouched down to step inside.
“Another protected cave. The wind doesn’t blow in here and the water never reaches this high.”
I peered over the edge. “How high does the water get?”
Nodin grinned. “Depends on the storm. The stronger the wind, the higher the water.”
He shuffled to the back of the cave and returned with a glass orb. He handed it to me. The sphere weighed as much as a healthy newborn baby. The orb had a small lip and opening, making the sphere resemble a fat coin purse.
“When the rubber stopper is inserted, it seals the energy inside,” Nodin explained.
“How do you release the energy without hurting anybody?”
He picked up a stopper. “There is a hole that goes about halfway through. See?” He poked a finger up to his knuckle in the one end. “A glass tube is inserted in this end and, when in place, a small hole is made that goes all the way through the rubber. The energy flows through the tube and into the machinery.”
I brought the orb closer to the sunlight and stroked the glass with my fingers. Smooth and translucent, the orb had a purple iridescent film on the outside as if it had been dipped in soap. As wide as the length of my forearm, it had no seams; the glass was blown into this shape. No bubbles or other flaws marked its surface.
It sat inert in my hands. No glow. No singing. No magic.
“Why glass?” I asked Nodin. “Why not metal or silver to contain the storm’s energy?”
“Only glass will work. I don’t know why.” Sadness blanketed his face. “Now even the glass won’t work.”
“Do you have one of the old orbs?”
Nodin stared at me as if deciding what he should tell me. Finally he said, “Kade keeps one in his sleeping quarters.” He scooted closer to the edge and hung his legs over. “It’s one of the smaller orbs. And it’s…full.” He swung his feet and looked down at the beach.
“So if the orb breaks…”
“Exactly.” Nodin spread his hands wide. “It would kill anyone standing or sleeping within ten feet.”
“Why keep it?”
“Don’t know. It’s a suicide waiting to happen.” He gestured to the sea. A single figure stood at the end of a rocky outcrop.
“Or it could be a strong desire for privacy.”
Nodin laughed. “It does guarantee him his own cave.”
We sat for a while in silence. Each contemplating our own thoughts.
“I’ll need to examine Kade’s orb,” I said.
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“Me? I thought…”
His brown eyes sparked with glee. “Yes, you. I’m beginning to like you, Opal. But not that much.” He grabbed the sphere and returned it to the back of the cave. “If you want to see Kade’s orb before dark, you better hurry. Once the sun dips below the sea, it turns black fast.”
I followed Nodin down to the beach. The sun hovered near the edge of the horizon, casting shadows along the water’s rippled surface.
“Good luck.” Nodin waved.
I wondered if Zitora should be the person to ask Kade about his orb. The Stormdancer didn’t have a lot of confidence in me. I tended to agree with him, but I knew I would try to discover the problem. It was too important and I wouldn’t feel right unless I made the effort.
The wind whipped hair into my eyes when I stepped out onto the black rocks. I pulled the leather tie from my messy ponytail and tried to recapture all the strands into a neater knot. Funny how I hadn’t noticed the wind on the beach. Calling to Kade had proven futile. My shouts drowned by the sea’s song.
I hadn’t noticed how uneven and jagged the rocks were, either. Waves crashed into them, sending spray high into the air. Water soon coated my skin and soaked my clothes. The rocks became slicker with each wave. I was glad I wore my brown boots, even though they filled with water; their thick soles helped me navigate the slippery and rutted outcrop. At one point I climbed over a few sharp boulders, and at another I leaped over a gap. The tight knocking of my heart warned my body to turn around and go back to the beach, but I was determined. Stupid?
No. Determined. Until I reached a space too big to cross. Too big for me. Kade was three rocks farther out. Each separated by a large opening. Had he swam or jumped? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was he heard my shout.
He spun around. And I wished I had waited on the beach. With an angry scowl, Kade moved. I would have marveled at his speed and grace as he flew over the gaps, except he aimed toward me.
An errant wave knocked into me and I grabbed a rough edge to keep from falling. Pain laced my palm and blood welled.
Kade stopped before spanning the space between our rocks. His mouth moved, but the wind snatched half of his words.
“…idiot…dangerous…go back!”
I understood his intent and turned to retrace my steps. The waves grew in size and frequency. They hunted me, attacking when I was vulnerable.
“Opal,” shouted Kade.
I looked back in time to see a giant blue-green wall of water rushing toward me.
The roar of the wind and sea ceased the moment the monster wave engulfed me. For one heartbeat, my world filled with gurgling sounds and foamy green light. Then the force of the crashing water slammed me into an unyielding object. The sea grabbed my limp body and tossed it about. Confusion dulled the pain until my forehead smacked into a jagged rock.
My vision clouded with blood and saltwater. Kade and the outcrop grew smaller as the sea sucked me into her liquid embrace.
Chapter 5
I TRIED TO SWIM. But each wave pushed me under and my waterlogged pants and boots dragged me down. I managed a few panicked gulps of air before the saltwater closed my throat.
A sense of inevitability pervaded my body and I relaxed. The underwater half-light was a beautiful canvas for my memories. My sister Tula arrived to welcome me into the sky. I was surrounded by warmth and love.
She frowned at me. “Silly girl. Take a breath. You’re surrounded by air.”
I opened my mouth to argue and coughed out a lungful of water. My stomach heaved with the effort to expel the salty liquid. Once I regained my composure, I froze in amazement. I sat in the middle of a bubble of air. The blue- green walls appeared as solid as glass, but moved like water.
Eventually my bubble floated to the surface of the sea. I bobbed in the waves, staying dry as land drew closer. Kade still stood on the rocks, but his eyes were closed and he held his arms straight out to the sides.
Once I reached the shallow water, my bubble popped. I splashed back into the cold sea. The waves pushed as I crawled from the water and collapsed onto the sand. Soon voices wormed through my water-filled ears. A crowd had gathered.
My sodden state was met with a mixture of emotions. Zitora was concerned and fluttered around me like a mother. The glassmakers smirked and tried to conceal their laughter. Raiden tsked and muttered under his breath about stupidity. Tal helped me to my feet and stayed beside me.
“What made you go out there?” Zitora asked.
“I wanted to talk to Kade. Nodin said I should go before dark.”
A burst of chuckles escaped from the siblings. Raiden scowled at them. “Opal, you shouldn’t have listened to him. He was fooling with you.”
“I didn’t know it would be so slick.” I shivered. The weak sun floated on the sea, painting a bright ribbon of red light along the waterline.
“You three stop laughing.” He scolded the glassmakers. “If Kade hadn’t seen her, she would have drowned. Then no one would want to help us!”
They sobered in an instant.
“Sorry,” Nodin muttered before they shuffled away to check on the kiln.
“Now you know to avoid climbing on the rocks.” Zitora smoothed my hair from my face and wiped sand off my cheek. “You’re bleeding.”
Her finger traced a line of fire across my forehead. She repeated the gesture and the pain disappeared.
“You’ll have a slight scar, but it could have been worse. You need to wash and change into dry clothes. There’s a freshwater pond behind the stables. Let me know if you have any other injuries.” Her eyes promised to question me further. Probably when we were alone. She left with Raiden to retrieve our saddlebags.
Tal lingered. He kicked the sand. He peered past my shoulder then back to me. “Before you talk to Kade about what was so important, make sure you thank him first.”
I glanced behind me. Kade reached the beach with a light hop. He walked toward us. “Thank him?”
“For saving your life.”
“Ahh… My bubble of air.”
“A Stormdancer power.” Bitterness warped Tal’s words. He turned and hurried away.
I wanted to chase after Tal, especially when Kade drew closer, but I waited for him. Cold fingers of air stroked my wet body, raising goose bumps on my skin.
His wet tunic and pants clung to his muscular frame, but at least his angry scowl had turned into tired annoyance.
I braced for his lecture.
Instead he gave me a wry smile. “Don’t know why I was mad,” he said. “I’ve fished out so many clan members I’ve lost count. And I’m sure you weren’t warned to stay off the rocks. Not that it would change anything. No matter how many times you warn a person, he still has to climb out there just to see for himself.”
He sighed and gazed out to the horizon. The sea had turned a slate gray.
“At least I won’t have to fish you out tomorrow. I can save my energy for the storm.”
“A storm’s coming?”
“Yep. Nasty one, too. That’s That’s why the waves are so greedy.”
He walked by, but I touched his arm. He jerked away as if stung.
“Thank you for fishing me out.”
He nodded and continued past.
“There was a reason I wanted to talk to you,” I said to his back.
He paused.
“I want to examine your orb.”
His shoulders stiffened. “Why?”
“To compare it to the new orbs.”
Kade made no reply as he strode away.
The simple state of being warm and dry felt wonderful. I wore tan-colored linen pants and a light orange tunic made of the same material. The nicest part of being a student at the Keep was being able to wear what we wanted on a daily basis. Formal occasions, though, either called for our official robes, or fancy dress.
In the main living cave, my brown leather boots steamed beside the campfire. I lounged as close to the heat as possible in a chair made of wood and canvas. The glassmakers, Tal, Raiden and Zitora ringed the fire, talking in low voices which echoed off the shale walls. Fish soup bubbled over the flames and my stomach growled loud enough for Zitora to pause and smile at me.
As we ate the tangy soup, Nodin and Indra discussed the kiln watch schedule and Zitora and Raiden talked about recent Council decisions. Each clan elected a member to represent them on the Sitian Council, which met at the Citadel. With the three Master Magicians, the Council consisted of fourteen members who decided on laws and policies for Sitia.
My father loved dissecting the Council’s decisions, but I never had much interest. Even now when I could have learned more about the Stormdance Clan’s internal policies, my mind wandered. Where was Kade? Didn’t he need to eat?
I eventually dozed in my chair.
“Opal.” Zitora woke me with a nudge. “Time for bed. Do you want to sleep down here near the fire or go to another cave?”
Confused, I glanced at Raiden.
“Some prefer their privacy. There are many places to sleep and a few have fire rings or coal stoves. Most of us just sleep here.”
I was used to sharing a room. First with my sisters, and then at the Keep. “Here’s fine. This way you can wake me when it’s my turn to watch the kiln’s fire.”
“You’re not on the schedule,” Nodin joked.
“I know. The three of you can shorten your shifts to two hours and I’ll take the last shift.”
Varun drew breath, but I said, “Don’t argue with the expert.”
“I assume you mean an expert at glass and not at swimming?” Tal teased.
I remembered Kade’s comments on the beach. “So, your superior attitude comes from having never been fished out?”
Indra laughed and flicked her long ponytail. “He’s been fished out countless times.”
Tal shot to his feet and scowled down at her.
“Now he’s going to run outside and pout,” Indra said. “You have to learn how to laugh at yourself, Tal.”
“I’m going to sleep in the stables. The horses smell better than you.” Tal stalked from the cave.
Indra sighed. “I’m surrounded by boys,” she grumped to herself. “I’m glad I have my own cave. I enjoy my privacy after dealing with these children all day. I’m going to bed.” She made a dramatic exit.
We folded the chairs and stacked them against the back wall. Raiden handed me a cot and helped to set it up.
“We do have a few comforts,” he said. “No sense sleeping on the cold hard ground.”
Within seconds of getting comfortable, I fell asleep. The wind whistled in my dreams as I ran from the waves. The sand sucked at my feet and hindered my movements before melting under me. I slogged through thick molten glass as a huge wave grew behind me. Riding on top of the wave was Blue Eyes. He beckoned to me. His voice echoed in my chest. “Finish the job.”
I woke with a start. Nodin shook my shoulder. White ash clung to the ringlets in his hair.
“Must have been some nightmare,” he said.
I shuddered. “You have no idea.”
A haunted expression gripped him. “I know all about nightmares.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” He straightened. “It’s your shift.”
Nodin stole my cot as soon as I vacated it. He was probably asleep by the time I left the cave.
The cold drove out the last vestiges of sleep from my mind. I glanced at the sky. No stars. No moon. A heavy presence pushed down from above, adding to the moisture in the air. Probably clouds filled with rain, although I couldn’t smell anything besides the salty air.
The sea moved like a living being. Its chest rose and fell; waves crashed and drew back as it breathed, the rough surf a testament to its displeasure.
Protected by the wind, the kiln’s fire burned hot. I poked the sand mixture inside with a rod. It needed a few more hours to melt into the required consistency. I added a handful of coals to the fire.
Now what? I hiked down to the beach and checked on the horses. Quartz nickered in greeting. The small stables had been constructed from bamboo stalks lashed together. The three stalls smelled clean and the walls protected the horses from the wind. Tal snored in an empty bay. His long arms hung off the edge of his cot.
I returned to the kiln’s cave. The fire warmed me and its familiar roar masked the alien sounds from the sea. I squirmed into a comfortable position at the entrance and rested my back against the wall. The perfect spot to see both the sea and the kiln.
It wasn’t long before a weak light diluted the black sky to a charcoal gray, which weakened into a drab gray. Clouds boiled on the horizon. The water underneath the sky churned the color of a two-day-old bruise. I stepped closer to the edge of the cave. Lightning snaked from the clouds followed by the rumble of thunder. It would be a bleak day. Depressed, I huddled in my cloak as I descended the trail and walked onto the beach, thinking to feed the horses their morning grain.
A spark of joy touched my soul. Startled, I looked around for Zitora. Had she uncovered her glass unicorn? Instead Kade strode toward me, holding a ball of fire.
As he drew closer, the song in my heart expanded. It buzzed along my skin, vibrated in my blood. He stopped and held out the sphere to me. His orb.
I grasped the ball. Energy sizzled and popped up my arms and down my spine. Light swirled inside, changing colors at an amazing speed. The sweet harmony of pure magic sang in my ears. Overwhelmed, I sank to the sand and cradled the orb in my lap.
Kade knelt next to me. “What’s the matter?”
“It…” Words to describe it died in my throat.
“What?” he prompted.
“It calls…no, sings to me. Silly, I know.”
“Not silly at all. It sings to me, too.” His gaze met mine.
It was the first time I had a chance to see him in the daylight. His amber-colored eyes held flecks of gold. Even though he radiated the air of someone much older, he had to be close to Zitora’s age. Straight hair fell to his shoulders, but the color reminded me of the sand from the Jewelrose Clan—a mixture of golds, browns and reds. Small droplets of mist clung to his long eyelashes, thin mustache and anchor-shaped goatee underneath his bottom lip.
“Full orbs sing to Stormdancers, but I’ve never heard it call to anyone else.” Kade touched the orb. “Is it the energy inside or the glass that sings to you?”
I concentrated on the sphere, running my fingers along the surface. It was smaller than the one Nodin showed me. About eight inches wide it was the size of a cantaloupe. I ignored the swirling light and focused on the glass.
No marks. No flaws. Thick glass. Thicker than the empty spheres? No. Denser. The glass had absorbed the magic used to trap the storm’s energy. The vibrations felt different, so I thought magic hadn’t been used to form the glass.
“Have any of these orbs shattered?” I asked.
“A few over the years.”
“Do you know why?”
“Young fools trying to stuff too much energy into one sphere. Or they can shatter when a Stormdancer loses control of the waves and wind around him.” Chagrin tainted his voice. “In that case, the sphere is dashed to pieces on the rocks and if the Stormdancer is lucky, he’ll be rescued before his head meets the same fate.”
“Talking from experience?”
“Unfortunately. It’s a hard skill to learn, keeping a bubble of calm around you while the storm rages.”
“Kade! What are you doing?” Raiden’s voice called. He and the others stopped about twenty feet from us.
Kade stood. “She wanted to see the orb.”
“Are you crazy? What if she drops it? You both could be killed.”
I gained my feet and scanned their faces. They truly didn’t know. Not a clue among them. Even the glassmakers.
I dropped the orb.
Chapter 6
THE ORB BOUNCED on the sand and rolled a few feet. Horrified cries filled the air until the onlookers realized the orb hadn’t shattered.
Kade blanched, but he hadn’t thrown his hands up in protection as Tal and Varun had done.
“Heck of a demonstration. Did you know it wouldn’t break or are you just suicidal?” Kade asked with a touch of sarcasm.
“Glass is an amazing material. Versatile, malleable and very strong.”
“But not indestructible.”
“No. I wouldn’t spike it on the hard ground, but no need to handle it like a delicate seashell.”
“Point taken.” Kade retrieved the orb.
“Nodin, can you get me one of your new orbs?”
“Sure.” Nodin’s voice sounded thin as if he had forgotten to breathe. He hurried away.
Zitora looked thoughtful and I wondered if she would reprimand me later. I wasn’t quite sure what had come over me. Perhaps it was in response to their reaction.
Nodin returned with an empty sphere. I flung it hard to the sand. Again everyone flinched. This time the orb cracked into three large pieces. I picked up a shard and examined the inside of the glass.
I wiped the sand from my hands. “Is the melt ready?”
Varun nodded.
“Okay. Let’s see how you make one of these.”
The entire group hiked up to the kiln’s cave to watch as the siblings worked in perfect unison. As the oldest, Indra sat at the gaffer’s bench while Nodin gathered the molten glass on the end of a blowing pipe and placed it in the holders on the bench. Varun handed tools to his sister as she worked.
During the process, Indra blew through the pipe and the ball expanded. Moving with a practiced quickness, Indra shaped the sphere. After multiple reheatings and blowings, she increased the size. When she was satisfied with the roundness, she signaled Nodin. He gathered a small dollop of melt onto the end of a pontil iron, making a punty. Attaching the punty onto the end of the sphere, Indra then dipped her tweezers into the bucket and dripped water onto the end of the blowpipe.
Cracks webbed and, with a hard tap of the tweezers, the glass sphere cracked off the pipe and was now held by the pontil iron. Nodin inserted the sphere back into the kiln to soften the glass. Indra expanded the little hole left by cracking off the pipe, and formed the sphere’s lip.
The piece was soon done and into the annealing oven. They did nothing wrong while crafting the piece. No actions that rendered it flawed. No magic, either.
“Make another one, but this time I want to blow into the pipe,” I said.
When Indra nodded to me, I bent, pursed my lips and blew through the pipe. Power from the source and not air from my lungs flowed through me and into the orb. It didn’t expand. The sphere stayed a fist-sized ball. Indra finished the piece and cracked it off into a heat resistant box.
“That didn’t work,” I said into the silence.
“But it glows,” Kade said. “You drew power.”
Except Zitora, everyone stared at my piece in confusion.
“Are you sure?” Nodin asked. “No offense, but it looks like a beginner’s effort.”
“I’ve trapped a thread of magic inside the ball,” I explained. “Only magicians can see the glow.”
“No.” Tal tensed and scowled. “That can’t be right. I can’t see the glow.”
“It’s been tested,” Zitora said. “And we’ve been using Opal’s glass animals to evaluate potential students for the Keep. If they can see the glow, we know they possess magical power.”
“No.” A stubborn line formed along Tal’s jaw. His eyes held fear.
“Tal.” Raiden placed a hand on the young man’s shoulders. “You tried to call the wind with no success. You’re past puberty—”
“No!” Tal shrugged Raiden’s hand off. “My father… My sister…”
“Strong Stormdancers, I know. Stormdancing is a rare gift, be thankful your sister—”
“I have it, too. It’s just…late. It’s just like the stubble on my chin, I don’t have enough power right now, but it’ll come. I know.” He left in a huff.
Raiden stared after him. We stood in an uncomfortable silence until an earsplitting crack of thunder announced the storm’s impending arrival. Donning thick leather gloves, Nodin picked up my orb and placed it into the annealer. Indra and Varun reorganized their tools.
Another rumble sounded. “The horses?” I asked.
“I’ll get them,” Raiden said. “Go down to the third level. That’s the storm cave where we keep all the necessary provisions.”
Zitora hurried to help Raiden.
I turned to go when Kade stopped me. He handed me his orb. The energy within it intensified. It pulsed and quivered, sending shooting pains along my arms.
“Keep it safe,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.” He gestured to the sea.
“Why? You don’t have an orb.”
“I can still bleed off energy from the storm.”
“To where?”
He huffed with impatience. “Into the rocks.”
Before I could question him further, Kade said, “Ask Raiden, he’ll explain it.” He jogged down the trail.
The sea heaved and thrashed around the rocks all but obscuring them. Foamy spray whipped through the air. Yet wherever Kade stepped, the water smoothed and his hair stayed in place, not even bothered by a faint breeze.
Zitora’s voice cut through the storm’s rage, calling me. I rushed to catch up to her as she led Sudi into a low cave. Although the horse ducked her head, it was a tight fit. The top of the opening scraped along Sudi’s back.
Once inside, the cavern’s ceiling rose to twelve feet. The area was roomy, with horse stalls near the back and torches blazing along the walls. Cots and chairs had been set up, Zitora helped start a fire, and Raiden filled a pot with water.
“You shouldn’t bring that in here,” Raiden said, pointing at the orb in my hands.
“It would take a lot more than dropping it on the ground to break,” I said.
“I know it takes a hard blow to shatter it, but I don’t want my people to start being careless with them. Every Stormdance Clan member knows to handle the orbs with the utmost care and I want to keep it that way. Would you want to risk losing a life?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “There is a reason for the fear.”
Chagrined, I said, “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“Next time, you might want to think before you act.”
Chastised, I stared at the floor.
“There is a reason for everything, Opal. You might not be able to figure it out, and time might have made us all forget it, but the reason is there all the same.” Raiden hung his pot over the fire. “Who’s hungry for clam stew?”
Raiden gave everyone who said, “me” a bucket of clams to open. I carried the orb to a safe spot in the back, setting it down on a pile of blankets. My hands and arms were numb from holding it. I covered it with another blanket to muffle its song. Between the roar of the storm and the trill of the orb, I would soon have a headache.
I checked on Quartz before returning to the fire. She munched her hay, appearing to be unconcerned about the weather. I scratched behind her left ear and she groaned in contentment.
When I sat down, Raiden handed me a dull knife and a handful of clams. I wouldn’t be allowed to partake in the meal without helping. I fumbled for a while, trying to pry open a shell. It didn’t take me long to find a rhythm, discovering another use for my strong hands.
Tal arrived soaking wet and sullen. He popped open a few clams without looking or speaking to anyone. The rest just ignored him.
Conversation focused on the orbs. I had been reluctant to state my theories before seeing how the glass was made, but when I examined the new orb in the firelight I felt more confident.
“Something is wrong with the mix,” I said, holding up my hand to stop the protest perched on Indra’s lips. “The recipe is right, but the sand, soda ash or lime isn’t.”
“What’s wrong with them?” Nodin asked.
“You could have gotten a bad batch.”
“Not helping.” Nodin tossed a clam into the pot.
“There is something in the mix that is causing the glass to be less dense. It can’t absorb the energy from the storm.”
“Which ingredient is deficient?” Indra asked.
“I don’t know. I could take samples of each to my father. He would be able to find out.”
“What do we do in the meantime?” Raiden asked. “The storms are only going to get worse.”
“Kade is dancing now. Why can’t you have all your Stormdancers bleeding off energy until we figure out what is wrong?”
Tal snorted with derision. “All he’s doing is taking a small stick out of a big fire.”
“It’s dangerous. No other Stormdancer would do it. There’s no reason for the risk.” Raiden nodded at me as if we shared a private joke.
“The almighty Kade likes to show off,” Tal grumbled. “Rub it in.”
“He has his own reasons.” Raiden stirred the stew.
After we had tossed the empty shells to the beach, Nodin asked about my magic. “Tell me again how it works.”
Zitora and I explained about the two uses of my pieces.
“I can use this new one when my unicorn is spent,” Zitora said.
“No.” The word sprang from my throat before logic could be applied. “I want to keep it to…to compare it to…my other works.” Weak explanation, I knew, but this orb hummed like Kade’s sphere and I was reluctant to give it away.
“How is this different?” Nodin asked.
“It has a different…call.”
“Call?” Nodin cocked an eyebrow, inviting enlightenment.
“Each of my glass pieces calls to me. I don’t hear it like sound. I feel it.” I tapped my chest. “Inside. Whenever one of my animals is close to me, I know which one it is and where it is even if I can’t see it.”
He whistled. “You could feel this before you fell into the water and hit your head on the rocks? Right?”
“Yes.”
“Because it makes more sense the other way.”
“Nodin,” Raiden warned. “That’s enough.”
We ate our stew in relative silence. The keening of the wind echoed in the cavern and errant gusts fanned the flames. Soon a fine sea mist coated everything in the cave.
I didn’t sleep well. My cot felt as if it bobbed on a wild sea and the wind infiltrated my dreams, moaning a name over and over in my mind. Laced with grief and loss, the wind’s cry filled my heart with sadness.
The storm passed by daybreak. Kade arrived. Exhaustion lined his face and his clothes dripped with seawater.
“Fall in?” Tal asked with barely concealed spite.
If Kade noticed, he didn’t show it. He nodded. “Lost my grip for a second and was blown into the water.”
Raiden shot Kade a horrified look.
“Luckily I managed to construct a bubble and climb back onto the rocks.” Kade squeezed the ends of his hair. Water rained to the floor.
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Raiden said. “Your powers have grown since—”
“Don’t say it,” Kade snapped.
Raiden frowned. “The storm almost killed you. You shouldn’t dance anymore.”
The Stormdancer lingered near the cave’s entrance. He peered out to the sea. “You’re right.”
Raiden covered his surprise by turning away to concentrate on breakfast. I guessed Kade didn’t agree with Raiden very often. Kade walked to the back of the cave to retrieve his orb. When the sphere was uncovered, I flinched with the sudden intensity of its song.
Tal narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t tell me you hear it.”
When I didn’t reply, he flew into a rage. “You can’t possibly hear it. You’re younger than me. And you’re not even a member of our clan.” He brushed past me, knocking me down.
“Raiden,” Indra said.
“I know.” The older man sighed. He helped me to my feet. “Sorry about that. Tal’s getting worse. I’ll send him home.”
“Wait,” Varun said. “He’s having a hard time adjusting. Before Opal’s device gave him proof, he still hoped he might develop magical powers. It’ll take a while for him to accept it. I’ll talk to him.”
“Fine. But tell him one more outburst and I’m sending him home for good.”
Varun agreed and followed Tal.
Raiden served the rest of us bowls of warm oatmeal. The thick mush had a fishy taste.
He laughed at my expression. “All our meals have fish in it. Cuts down on the amount of supplies we need.”
“Speaking of supplies,” Indra said. “What do we do about the glass ingredients?”
“Can you get a new batch?” Zitora asked.
“No. We stockpile the ingredients inland near Thunder Valley and bring only enough for each season. If one of the compounds is tainted, then the whole stockpile will be suspect,” Indra explained.
“How about ordering in fresh supplies?”
The glassmaker shook her head. “We wouldn’t get them in time. The special components in our mixture come from far away.”
“We really need to know which one is causing the problem,” Nodin said.
“Are the different components in separate stockpiles?” I asked.
“Yes. They’re mixed right before we leave.” He paced around the campfire, pulling at his tight curls. They sprang back as soon as he released one.
“Opal, you wanted to take samples to your father. Is there anyone else who is closer?” Zitora asked. “How about the Citadel’s glassmaker?”
“Aydan only works with one type of glass. My father really is the best one to ask. He has an extensive laboratory and experiments with sand while the other glassmakers find a mix they like and stay with the same recipe forever.”
“Can he come here?” Nodin stopped pacing. Hope touched his voice.
“He’ll need his lab. If it was an obvious substance, I would have seen it.”
“Is that why you ran them through your fingers?”
“Yes.”
“How long will it take?” Kade joined us by the fire. He had wrapped his orb in the blanket and cradled the bundle.
“Seven days one way if the weather is good. Then it depends on Opal’s father.” Zitora looked at me.
“A day. Maybe two.” I guessed.
“How long do you have before it’s too late?” Zitora asked Raiden.
“The storms are forming every four days now. In another three weeks, they’ll be coming every two days. Without Stormdancers and orbs, this cavern will be underwater until the middle of the cold season.”
“Let’s say nine days from now we have an answer. We can communicate through Opal’s glass animals and you can order a fresh batch.”
Indra stood. “That could work. We’ll need Opal back, though.”
Surprised, I asked why.
“To test the ingredients before they’re melted into glass. We can’t guess that the new supplies are pure. Plus we couldn’t tell the difference between the orbs. You’ll know if they’ll hold the storm’s energy.”
“But—”
Zitora cut me off. “What happens if it’s one of your special ingredients that are tainted?”
“We don’t dance,” Kade said. “People die.”
Kade’s words weighed heavy on my mind as we prepared to leave The Cliffs. Varun and Kade would accompany Zitora and me to their stockpile near Thunder Valley and remain there until they heard from us.
I gave my little ball to the Stormdancer so he could try to communicate with Zitora through the glass. She was on the beach with her unicorn and we were in his tiny sleeping cave decorated with a cot, a chair and a desk. Piles of books lined the back wall. A small coal stove rested near the entrance, but not too close to the wood and cloth privacy screen. Kade had stored the orb—still covered with the blanket—under his cot.
After I had glanced around his cave, Kade shrugged. “It suits me. When I spend all day in the wild vastness of sea and storms, it’s soothing to be surrounded by stone.” Kade settled on the cot, sitting cross-legged and peered into the glass.
A heartbeat later, he yelped in surprise and fumbled the ball. I suppressed a giggle, but couldn’t stop the smirk.
“I suppose the first time you heard a voice in your head you were unperturbed?” he asked in annoyance.
The smile dropped from my lips. “I don’t have the magical ability to hear thoughts.”
“I don’t, either, but Zitora does. As long as you have magic, you should be able to hear her.”
“I can’t.” I turned away before I could see his pity. The Masters could communicate with every magician in Sitia. Except me. Even people with only one trick could hear the Masters’ call. Except me.
“Since the test was a success, I’d better go help Zitora saddle the horses.” I ducked to leave.
“But you can hear the orb’s call,” Kade said to my back.
The orb’s song pierced my heart. I jerked, turning around. Kade had uncovered the sphere.
“What does it say to you?” he asked.
I concentrated. The orb’s song pulsed in time with the sea and hummed in tune with the wind. Among the melody moaned a name. The same name that haunted my dreams last night. “Kaya.”
Kade froze in horror. He stared at me with such intensity I stepped back.
“My sister’s name,” he said as if every word pained him. “You have a sister?” “Had. She died. Killed by one of the flawed orbs.”
Chapter 7
GRIEF WELLED IN Kade’s eyes. The obvious pain of his sister’s death still ripping his insides like a broken knife. I remembered the weeks after my sister Tula had died. The pain would only dull with time.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know—”
“You know nothing.” Kade spat the words out. “Please spare me the empty and banal responses of sympathy. They are meaningless.”
I wanted to correct him, but from his reaction I knew he wasn’t ready to hear it.
Kade grabbed my shoulders and dragged me close. “Did Raiden tell you her name? Hope that I would confess my woes to you?” He dug his fingers into my skin.
“No one told me. Let go. You’re hurting me.”
“Did Master Cowan pull the information from my head?”
I wished I had one of my sais so I could knock sense into him. “She would never intrude on your private thoughts. The orb told me. Let go now!” I brought my arms up between his and swept them out to the side, breaking his hold on my shoulders.
He stumbled back and I pushed him farther away with my foot. He landed on his cot. At least I had paid attention in self-defense class. Another skill learned from my four years at the Keep. Yippee for me.
“Do you have water in your ears? What part of ‘let go’ didn’t you understand?” I scolded, reverting into my really-annoyed-older-sister mode.
When anger flamed in Kade’s eyes, I realized I dealt with a grown man and Stormdancer. He could probably order the wind to suck me out of the cave and drop me onto the beach far below. Big difference from fighting with my younger brother, Ahir, whose only talent was to pester me to distraction.
“Opal,” Zitora called from below.
I glanced over the edge.
“We need to hurry. I want to reach The Flats by sunset.”
My thoughts lingered on Kade and his orb as I helped Zitora saddle the horses and pack the bags. Varun and Kade arrived with full backpacks and I tied their sleeping rolls onto the saddles. Since they didn’t have any horses, we would share mounts to Thunder Valley. I eyed Kade’s pack with trepidation. He had taken his orb and its muted voice reached me even through the leather.
Soon the whole Stormdance team milled around, waiting to say goodbye.
Raiden gave us a few instructions. “If you’re not back here in eighteen days, then don’t bother. We’re clearing out on day nineteen.”
“If the storm pattern changes, don’t hesitate to leave sooner. Just send me a message,” Kade said.
“Will do.” Raiden scanned the sky.
“We’ll keep the kiln hot,” Indra said.
After all the goodbyes and thank yous, we led the horses up The Cliffs. The ascent felt easier. Perhaps because I tended to look up instead of down.
We reached The Flats without any problems. As soon as we were rested, Zitora mounted Sudi. “Varun, you’ll ride with me. Kade, you’re with Opal.”
When no one moved, Zitora ordered, “Let’s go. I want to get in a few more miles before we stop for the night.”
I don’t know why I thought Zitora and I would share a mount, but it appeared the men had assumed the same thing. They glanced at each other. Varun shrugged. He shouldered his pack and swung up behind Zitora.
Quartz bumped my arm with her nose. If horses could laugh, I had the feeling she would be chuckling.
Kade grabbed Quartz’s reins. “Should I?” he asked.
“No. She’s my horse. I’ll take them.”
“Suit yourself.”
I hopped into the saddle and Kade settled in behind me. It was a tight fit. I tried not to think about his legs pressed against mine, and about where my backside was nestled. Strong arms wrapped around my waist. I was suddenly glad he couldn’t see my flushed face. His chest molded to my back and the orb’s song grew louder. Its energy vibrated in my heart.
I urged Quartz into a gallop, hoping to distract myself from the hot tingle pulsing through my blood.
We aimed toward the setting sun and kept going once the light disappeared. Zitora slowed our pace, allowing the horses to find a good path in the darkness.
Kade had remained quiet, but I felt him draw a breath. “When I asked you what the orb says to you, I meant just general feelings like happy, sad or angry. Stormdancers hear the storm’s personality in the orb. I wanted to see if it was the same for you.” A pause. “You surprised me with your answer.”
Was this an apology? I searched for a reply. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know that…now.”
We rode for a while without saying anything. Finally, I asked, “Storms have personalities?”
“Yes. There’re subtle differences in the storms. A few blow big and angry, others delight in their energy, some rage with malice, while others brood. Strange, I know.”
“Not strange to me. It’s similar to my glass animals. They all call to me in different ways. If I really thought about it, I could assign emotions to them like you do with the storms.”
He huffed. “I never would have thought storms and glass could have something in common.”
“But you put the storm’s energy into glass.”
“Before I met you, I thought glass was just a container. No personality. I didn’t realize what could be done with it.”
“What do you mean?”
A grunt of frustration. “It’s like paint.”
“Paint?”
“Yes, paint. I can dip a brush and smooth paint on a canvas, but all I end up with is a smear of paint. While another can use that same paint and create a masterpiece.”
“I would hardly call my animals masterpieces.”
“Can anyone else do it?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then they are truly unique and you should be proud of them.”
I squirmed at the thought. I was proud of what they could do, but Tula’s glass creations were crafted better. More life-like in detail and sought after by collectors, especially since there would be no more. A flare of grief burned in my throat. I swallowed it down and changed the subject.
“Why do you keep the orb?” I asked.
His grip on my waist tightened for a moment before he relaxed. “I was filling the orb when my sister died. Kaya worked on another outcrop two hundred feet away during a sullen storm. I knew the instant her orb shattered. By the time I reached her, she had lost too much blood.”
I wanted to express my regret, but, after what had happened in his cave, I kept quiet.
“I keep the orb because it…comforts me. I don’t expect you to understand, but it reminds me of Kaya. She could be sullen and moody, yet when she smiled, all was forgiven.”
I understood all too well. Siblings fight. They hate each other and love each other, and there are times when one emotion is a heartbeat away from the other.
“Perhaps that’s why the orb sings her name,” I said.
“Perhaps.” A long pause, then he whispered, “But I don’t hear her name.”
Zitora finally stopped when the moon reached its zenith. We made a fire from the driftwood we had packed. After sitting on the ground for a few minutes, I wished we had taken a couple chairs, too.
“We’ll have to buy fresh supplies,” Zitora said. “How far are your stockpiles from the market?”
“Not far. The market is an hour’s ride east,” Varun answered.
I thought about the location of their stockpiles. “How do you get the glass ingredients down to the beach?” I asked Varun. “Wagons won’t fit on The Cliff’s trail.”
“There is another way to the beach. If you head northwest through the Krystal Clan’s lands, there’s a wide slope down to the coast. Then you go straight south to reach The Cliffs. It’s the long way. When we’re in a hurry, we take the loads over The Flats and lower them with ropes. An unpleasant task.”
He launched into a story about losing a whole load of lime when a rope broke. “It looked like it snowed on The Cliffs” He chuckled. Then he added—with a touch of sourness— “Being the youngest, I was assigned the task of scraping lime off the rocks and picking out impurities before my father and sister could put it into the glass mix.”
“Why make the orbs on-site? Why not make them in Thunder Valley and transport them to The Cliffs?” I asked. “It would be easier.”
“I asked my father the same thing.” Varun squirmed into a more comfortable position. “He quoted me three reasons. Tradition, secrecy and convenience in case more orbs are needed during the storm seasons. Although having to wait twelve hours for an orb seems long to me.”
“Better than two days,” Kade said. “And it could be the difference between life and death.”
Varun and I talked for a while about glassmaking in general.
At one point, Varun shook his head. “I don’t feel the same…enthusiasm you do about working with glass,” he said. “To me, it’s a job to get done so I can go do other things.”
“You have time for other activities?” I asked.
“Sure. We work for four weeks making orbs, wait out each season just in case they need more, and then have the rest of the year to ourselves.” Varun picked up a stick and poked the fire. “Usually we work other jobs.” Poke. Sparks flew. “We don’t get enough money from crafting orbs to live.” He jabbed at the embers.
“You’re well paid for a half a season of work,” Kade said. His tone held a warning note.
Varun snorted, but said nothing.
Zitora broke the awkward silence with orders for everyone to get a few hours’ rest.
“A few?” Varun asked.
“Seventeen days left,” Zitora replied.
“What about setting a watch schedule?” I asked her.
“No need. I’ll know if anyone comes close.”
“Will you let them? I’d like a little notice if I’m going to wake up with a sword pointed at my throat again.” I shivered at the memory.
“Again?” Kade asked.
Zitora filled him in about the ambush.
“Does Raiden know?”
“Yes.”
“Isolated attack or can we expect more trouble?” Kade asked.
“We didn’t have time to find out. I’m hoping Master Jewelrose has interrogated them before we arrive in Thunder Valley. Do you know anyone who wants to keep you from dancing?”
Kade’s gaze grew distant. “The other clans have always complained about our using the storm’s energy to fuel our factories, saying it gives us an unfair advantage in producing cheaper goods. The Krystal and Moon Clans have been most vocal. They’ve even offered to buy full orbs from us, but there are just enough orbs for our factories. And some years are leaner than others. It all depends on how many storms we get and how strong they are.”
“Hopefully once we arrive at Thunder Valley, we’ll find out who wanted to stop us from helping you,” Zitora said.
“Then I’d better come to town with you,” Kade said. “We’ll drop Varun off at the stockpiles and I’ll walk back.”
“I get to babysit piles of sand while you’re in town.” Sarcasm dripped from Varun’s voice. “How exciting.”
Sleeping on the uneven shale ground proved difficult. I struggled to find a comfortable spot and managed only short snatches of sleep. And Kaya haunted my dreams. She beckoned to me, wanting my help, but I couldn’t reach her. She was encased in glass.
A shrill sound pierced my mind and I bolted into a sitting position. Kade sat with his orb cradled in his lap, staring into its depths, lost in another world. Zitora and Varun appeared to be asleep. The fire had burned down into a few glowing embers.
“Kade?”
He jerked as if startled, but didn’t look at me. “Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
Now he peered at me through the darkness. “Why not?”
“Your orb.” I gestured. “Your sister. You need to cover it.”
He returned his attention to the orb. “She was so stubborn. We had a couple of the old orbs left, but she insisted on using a new one despite the danger. Claimed Gian’s death was his own fault. Said he had been too ambitious and caused the orb to shatter. Called the old orbs brittle.”
I waited, sensing he had more to say.
“She was the strongest Stormdancer, and therefore in charge of us. She made the final decisions.” He smiled at a memory. “She was a year younger than me, but she bossed me around since we were toddlers.” He laughed. “My parents knew what they were doing when they named her. Kaya means ‘my older little sister.’”
“And I thought that bossy quality was reserved for annoying younger brothers,” I said. “Mine thinks he knows everything and will argue about it even when I prove him wrong.” Funny how I could miss having him around.
“I would have liked to have a brother, but all I had was Kaya. Do you have any other siblings?”
“Two older sisters, but—”
“Do they all work with glass?”
“Yes.”
“Do they have magical abilities?”
“So far, I’m the only one. Ahir has just reached puberty. The Keep magicians will test him when he visits me this year.”
“Kaya and I could both call the wind,” Kade said. “Very fortunate and very unusual, considering neither of my parents has that ability.”
“Who is the strongest Stormdancer now?”
“I am. Although I shouldn’t be. When Kaya died, my powers doubled.”
Our early-morning conversation woke Zitora. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Since you’re awake,” she said drily, “you can feed and saddle the horses.”
I was happy to oblige. Another minute on the hard shale ground and I would have a stiff back. Not pleasant, considering I had run out of Barbasco yams.
Kade helped with the horses while Zitora roused Varun. In no time we were on horseback, eating a cold breakfast of beef jerky. Yesterday’s awkwardness between Kade and me was gone, but my skin still tingled where our bodies touched.
Just past the edge of The Flats, we dropped Varun off at the stockpiles. Mounds of sand littered the clearing. Soda ash and lime had been heaped inside small buildings to protect them from the rain. A log building housed an office and modest living area. The building was used by the glassmakers before the season started to make sure the proper goods were delivered from the other clans.
We left Varun a few provisions and Kade promised to bring back more. I collected samples from each stockpile before we headed east.
We soon reached Thunder Valley. The main core of the city was only a few blocks long, about half the size of my hometown of Booruby. However, Thunder Valley wasn’t the capital for the Stormdance Clan.
Kade explained the town grew around the market. “The market was located here so it would be equidistant from all the towns in our lands. It’s also along the main north-south road.”
People hustled through the streets. Most carried packages while others pulled wagons. The heavy scent of fresh bread floated in the air. The buildings, made of wood or stone or a combination of the two, leaned together in an odd collection of sizes and shapes.
We stopped at the town’s square. Zitora pointed to an official-looking building that was three times as wide as its neighbors and had been constructed with large white stones. Iron bars covered the windows along the ground floor of the structure.
“I’ll talk to the authorities about our ambushers. To save time, why don’t you buy our supplies and I’ll meet you at the market.” She recited a list of items to purchase.
Kade slid off the saddle to join Zitora and I was left to take care of the horses. Without the Stormdancer behind me, the cool air on my back gave me a chill. I couldn’t help feeling left out even though I knew Zitora was right. We shouldn’t linger too long since we had another five days before we reached Booruby.
I found the market by following the scent of spiced beef sizzling over an open flame. Tying the horses to a nearby hitching post, I wandered through the market’s stalls. The open wooden stands had roofs tiled with shale shingles and all had bamboo shades to protect them from the wind and rain. On a clear day like this morning, the shades were rolled up and tied to the roof.
I bought a loaf of bread, a hunk of cow cheese and a handful of pork jerky. After I finished shopping, I packed the supplies in our saddlebags. With my chore done, I strolled through the market again. This time I purchased a spiced beef stick to eat for lunch and lingered to examine the glasswares for sale.
A stall filled with decorative pieces drew my attention. I stopped to appreciate the craftsmanship of a delicate vase. The clear glass had a swirl of green bubbles spiraling around the tall flute. Sometimes bubbles or seeds meant a mistake, but the effect was stunning. The vase didn’t sing, but faint pops throbbed in my fingertips.
“Ten silvers for the vase,” the stand owner said. She was an older woman with gray strands streaking her faded black hair. Her lined face looked as if she had weathered one too many storms.
“Did you make this?” I asked.
“No. Imported from Ixia.”
“Ixia?” The few pieces I’ve seen from Ixia had all been thick and practical. No popping. She wanted to inflate the price.
“Nine silvers, but not a copper less.” She waggled a slender finger.
“Do you know who made the vase?”
“I’m not telling you! You’ll go right to the glassmaker, undercut my business. Eight and a half silvers. Final offer.”
“Six,” I countered.
“Seven.”
“Deal.”
The woman muttered under her breath as she wrapped the vase and snatched my money. I hoped to find the artist and the best way would be to show the vase around to see if anyone knew who made it.
The woman handed me the package. I could no longer feel the pops through the thick wrapping. Even so, I felt certain the glassmaker was in the market. I hurried toward the east side positive I would find him.
A column of gray smoke rising in the distance must be from a kiln, I decided. The hot smell of molten glass drew me on until I passed through the market and followed a narrow cobblestone street. Convinced I would find the artist working in one of these abandoned warehouses, I peered through all the windows.
One of the buildings had collapsed and covered the road, creating a dead end. When I reached the rubble, all signs of a kiln disappeared. And my conviction fled. The air smelled of excrement and garbage.
I turned to go back.
A man blocked my way.
He held a sword.
Blue Eyes.
Chapter 8
BLUE EYES. But he should be incarcerated in the Thunder Valley jail with the other ambushers.
Yet there he stood. His blade poised for trouble.
I labored to keep my breathing steady. The collapsed building behind me prevented any chance to run away. In fact, the whole alley was quite deserted. A place I would normally avoid. I must have been tricked by magic. His sword was not his only weapon.
Setting my package out of the way, I pulled my sais from their sheaths, and slid my legs into a defensive position, turning my hips and feet to the right side so I made a thinner target.
I rested the sais’ weight in the crook of each hand. My forefinger lay on the hilt, pointing toward the weighted knob at the top. The rest of my fingers curled around the U-shaped guard. The metal shaft of my weapons felt icy against my hot forearms.
He advanced. My heart slammed in my chest as fear shot through my body. Sais were not cutting weapons. They blocked swords and bow staffs and could—in the hands of an expert—trap and yank those weapons from an opponent’s hands, but with a quick change in grip I could strike, knocking an attacker unconscious.
Five feet away from me he stopped. “Put your sais down,” he said. “And I will not hurt you.”
“No. Last time you wanted to finish the job, which included killing me and my companion.”
“Your companion.” His mouth twisted into a tight smile, but the humor failed to reach his cold eyes. “A Master Magician. A surprise that should not have been.” He stepped another foot closer. “I do not want to kill you.”
“Good to know.” I glanced at his blade. Sharpness gleamed from the edges. His actions didn’t match his his words .
“Your life is precious to me now that I know who you are.”
“You knew I was a glassmaker before.”
“Yes, but not The Glass Magician.”
“What?”
“You will come with me.”
The desire to agree pressed on my shoulders and climbed up my throat. I bit my lip to keep the words trapped in my mouth. My muscles tensed with the need to obey, yet I resisted, knowing he used magic. He had caught me unaware before to trap me here, but now I was braced for his magical suggestions.
“No,” I said, hoping his powers were weak. Controlling the mind and/or body was an advanced skill, requiring strong magic.
His brow furrowed and the compulsion to join him flared inside me with a painful intensity. An annoyed breath huffed from his lips. “Submit or I will hurt you.” He snarled, showing his teeth.
I had done the willing victim routine before. Last time the order had been the go-with-Alea-or-my-sisterwould- be-killed threat. My sister died anyway. Lesson learned. “No.”
He moved. Jabbing his sword toward my arms, he lunged.
I yelped and blocked the blade, swinging my right sais down. With a flick of his wrist he looped his weapon out of reach. The tip snaked past my upper left arm, leaving behind a burning slash. Blood brimmed and spilled, soaking the sleeve of my tunic.
I was out of my league.
“Do you submit?”
“No.”
He shrugged. In a blink, his sword thrust toward my neck. I flipped the sais into an X and deflected the blade up. The force of his blow throbbed through my wrists. The clang of metal echoed in the alley.
Blue Eyes pulled his sword back and tried another lunge. I pushed the weapon toward the ground, but again he flicked his wrist. A line of fire blazed on my right arm. Wonderful. Matching cuts.
He paused with his sword held in midair. My blood stained the tip.
I glanced past him. Didn’t anyone hear the fight? Should I scream?
“Submit? You will have so many cuts on your arms and legs, you will faint from lack of blood.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” He launched another flurry of attacks.
My breath puffed from the effort of defending myself. When he halted, blood soaked my upper thighs. The ground wobbled.
“You cannot beat me,” Blue Eyes said. “And there is no one here to help you.”
Not yet. I aimed my left sais at his temple. He blocked with ease and countered. This time he nicked both my shoulders.
A buzzing sounded in my ears as dizziness danced behind my eyes. “Okay.” I gasped. “I can’t…beat…you.” I drew in two deep breaths, trying to steady myself. “But I can…delay…you.” I sucked in a large gulp of air and yelled, “Master Cowan, over here.”
Blue Eyes spun. I rushed him, knocked him over and sprinted past.
In my mind, it was a great plan. If he hadn’t recovered so quickly, I would have made it out of the alley. Instead, he tripped me. I fell and rolled over in time to see Blue Eyes level his sword at my throat. I’d been here before.
“Submit.”
No other alternative at this point. He wasn’t going to kill me, but the overwhelming dread at being helpless and at his mercy made me wish he would. “All right.”
Pleased, Blue Eyes stepped back and offered a hand. “Stand,” he ordered as if commanding a pet. His sword remained pointed at the ground.
I ignored his help and summoned the energy to move. A high-pitched whistle sounded behind me before a wall of air slammed into us.
The force rolled me along the ground. Blue Eyes flew back and landed in the building’s rubble. I rubbed the grit from my eyes in time to see Kade running toward me.
He yanked me to my feet. “Let’s go,” he said.
“My vase.” I gestured to the package. It had been blown against the rubble pile. Probably broken, but I wanted it.
Kade huffed in annoyance. He sprinted over and grabbed it. Blue Eyes stirred. Kade hurried back and hustled me from the alley, only stopping when we reached the market.
I sank to the ground to catch my breath.
Kade knelt next to me. “Are you all right?”
“Dizzy.”
“You’re covered in blood.” He pulled at my clothing, searching for injuries.
I slapped his hand away. “Arms. Legs. No others.”
“Let’s get you to a healer. Come on, before your attacker finds us.”
“Why the hurry? Couldn’t you just—” I waved my hand “—blow him over again?”
He gave me a dry smile. “The air is calm today. Happy. It required a lot of effort to convince it to blow. I doubt I can do it again.”
Kade practically dragged me to the healer’s house. We met Zitora on the way and she supported his decision to take me there, claiming her healing powers could only do so much.
The tall healer led us to a room which contained the equipment needed to tend to the sick—a bed and a table loaded with supplies. After I lay on the bed, Zitora peppered me with questions, which distracted me from the healer’s ministrations. I had thought it hurt before he cleaned the cuts, but the wounds screamed with a new level of pain as the sharp sting of alcohol inflamed them.
I answered Zitora as best I could. I faded in and out of consciousness as the healer and Zitora worked on my injuries.
I woke. Lanterns blazed in the room and shadows waltzed along the stone walls. Worried I had wasted time, I sat up too fast and had to wait until the dizziness passed. Once the room stopped spinning, I found a clean set of my own clothes folded at the foot of the bed.
The cuts on my arms and legs throbbed. The injuries looked about two days old with ugly scabs forming, but they remained tender to the touch.
My abused muscles protested each movement as I dressed. I considered the discarded pile of bloodstained and tattered clothing. They were too ruined for even the Keep’s talented seamstress, so I left them there. I would have to order more of the long-sleeved tunics and linen pants that I preferred to wear. Good thing I had left my cloak with the horses.
Zitora and Kade waited in the front room of the house. Both had dark smudges under their eyes.
Exhaustion lined Zitora’s face. “Feeling better?”
“Thanks to you…and Kade. How did you find me?” I asked the Stormdancer.
“I heard you yell for Master Cowan.”
“We were supposed to meet at the horses. Why were you there?” I asked.
He exchanged a glance with Zitora. She nodded. “We were searching for you.”
I waited.
Zitora sighed. “We met with the Stormdance officials. They arrested the group of ambushers we paralyzed, and despite keeping the magicians unconscious, they escaped the first chance they got. Since we knew the ambushers were free, we wanted to warn you. When we couldn’t find you in the market, we broadened our search.”
“How did they escape?” I asked.
“There was another magician. Since he didn’t use his magic during the attack, I didn’t pick up on it.”
“Blue Eyes is a magician.” I explained about being lured away from the market.
“He could be a one-trick. Makes sense since he couldn’t force you to go with him when you knew about his magic.” Zitora rubbed her eyes.
“Do the guards know who the members of the group are?” I asked.
“Not really,” Zitora said. “After tending your wounds, I returned to talk to the administrator. Seems they are from the Krystal Clan. But we don’t know whether they’re sanctioned by the main government or a separate group. I’ve contacted Irys and she will detour to the Krystal Clan’s capital to investigate.”
“Irys?” Kade asked.
“Master Jewelrose. What about the other magicians?” I asked Zitora. “The woman and man. Are they Keep trained?”
“No. I’ve never seen them before.”
Apprehension coiled in my stomach. “Warpers?”
Zitora shook her head. “No. There are no more Warpers. After General Cahil captured them all, they were executed.”
I relaxed.
“I feel like I’ve come late to the party. What are Warpers?” Kade asked.
I almost groaned out loud. An explanation could take days to tell. “Have you heard of the Daviians?”
“The group of rogue Sandseed Clan members who formed their own clan on the Daviian Plateau?”
“Right. The Daviian magicians, who used to be Sandseed Story Weavers, were the Warpers. They used blood magic to enhance their powers and tried to take control of the Sitian Council.”
“And control the Master Magicians,” Zitora added with a bitter tone. “They almost succeeded, too, because of Roze.”
“Roze Featherstone,” I added for Kade’s benefit. “She was First Magician and the leader of the Daviian Clan.”
“Yes, but Yelena Zaltana stopped them—that part I know. Could this be another group of rogue magicians?” Kade looked at Zitora.
“I don’t know if they’re organized as a group or are just a couple of dissatisfied magicians. Not all magicians in Sitia have to be Keep trained. You’ve learned how to control your power from other Stormdancers. Same with the Sandseed Story Weavers. The Masters can detect uncontrolled power and we find the person before they can flame out, which will kill the person and damage the power source. Once a magician has control of their power, the danger of a flameout is little to none.”
Zitora stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her pants. “I wish I could stay and investigate more, but we need to go. And—” she smiled “—it seems I can’t leave Opal alone without her getting into trouble.”
Her words reminded me. “Did the city guards find Blue Eyes in the alley?”
Zitora sobered. “When we returned, he was gone. And they haven’t found any trace of him.”
My skin crawled with the feeling of being watched by Blue Eyes. I crossed my arms and rubbed my hands along my upper arms. The pain reminded me of how close I had come to being captured and of my inexperience with fighting. “All the more reason to practice with my sais.”
“And more reason for me to ask around. See if I can discover any helpful information,” Kade said. “I’m sure Varun will be fine for another day.”
“Be careful,” Zitora said. “He’s armed.”
“I’m a Stormdancer! Mere metal is nothing compared with the power of a storm.” Kade made his voice boom and spread his arms wide. His eyes sparked with humor. “I. Am. Invincible.”
“Until a happy wind blows,” I said.
“Curse those sunny days.”
“The bane of your existence.”
“The scourge of society.”
“The downfall of decency.”
“And boring, too. Nothing like a good gale to put a spring in your step.” Kade grinned.
It was the first real smile I’d seen from him. His stern demeanor disappeared; replaced by a carefree mischievousness. There was an inner fire in his soul. Muted by grief and loss, but there all the same.
“All right, that’s enough,” Zitora said. “Kade, send us a message if you learn anything.”
“Yes, sir,” he snapped and probably would have saluted if Zitora hadn’t pushed him out the door.
Zitora and I raced to Booruby. She was determined to get there as quickly as possible without exhausting the horses. At different times during the five-day journey, I wished I were a horse, wished I was back at the Keep and even wished for a day of rain to slow our brutal pace. The Barbasco yams only helped with aches and pains, not bone-deep fatigue.
On the afternoon of the fifth day, I caught sight of the brick smokestack from my family’s glass factory. I cried out and urged Quartz faster through the busy streets of Booruby. Located on the far east side of the city, our buildings were the last ones before the Avibian Plains. Funny how I never considered the flat grasslands of the Plains to be so welcoming before.
The commotion from our arrival was loud enough to draw Ahir from the factory. I never thought I would be so happy to see my brother. I slid off Quartz in time to be knocked over by Ahir.
“Ugh…you’re heavy. Do you have sand in your pockets?” I asked.
“You wish, big sister.” Ahir helped me to my feet.
The top of my head reached his nose. He had grown at least six inches since I had visited during the hot season, towering over my own five-foot seven-inch height.
“Now you can’t call me your little brother anymore.” He smirked.
“Sure I can, Ahir. No matter how big and fat you get, you’ll always have a little brain.”
“You wish, snake spit,” he countered.
“I know, fly breath.”
“Opal, that’s enough. We’re on a time schedule,” Zitora said in exasperation. “Ahir, where is your father?”
His eyes lit up. “Is Opal in trouble?”
Ahir ignored her annoyed frown, relishing the possibility that I might be in trouble.
“Ahir, you don’t want to keep Master Cowan waiting,” I said.
“Oh boy! You must be in big trouble.” He rubbed his hands together. “He’s in the factory, working with Mara.”
Ahir trailed behind us like a dog hoping for treats. Zitora hesitated on the threshold of the building. The heat and roar from the eight kilns presented a physical force, but she pushed through. To me, the thick air and pulsing growl wrapped around me like a favorite blanket. Home.
My father worked at a gaffer’s bench with my sister assisting him. His wide, adept hands pulled and plucked at the molten glass with ease. Hunching over his work, he didn’t notice us. The familiar sight of his broad shoulders and strong back tugged at my bruised body. I wanted to hop into his embrace so he could make everything all right again.
Instead, I signaled to Mara. She paused in her duties and sent me a welcoming smile. Her perfectly shaped features and wide tawny-colored eyes attracted men to her like snakes to the heat. She had gotten Tula’s and my share of beauty. With her long golden curls and curvy figure, she had the complete opposite of my, with my straight hair and athletic build. While all of us had brown eyes, hers were light and interesting; Tula’s and mine were dark brown and ordinary. Ahir’s were almost black, which matched the color of his short moppy hair.
I let Mara know we would wait for Father outside. Ahir tried to come with us, but Mara snapped her fingers at him and pointed to another kiln. He hung his head and slouched back to work.
“It’s an oven in there,” Zitora exclaimed. “How do you stand it?”
I shrugged. “Growing up, I spent more time in the factory than the house. Probably the reason I hate the cold.” I rubbed my arms. “It gets really hot when all eight kilns are fired. Eight is too many for my family to handle, so we hired a few locals, two uncles and a bunch of cousins to work the kilns. Shifts help with heat exhaustion. My father makes us take a break after each piece we make.”
When my father came outside, his shoulders brushed the doorway. He squinted. In the sunlight, his resemblance to Ahir was unmistakable. Although only a few black strands remained in his short gray hair and Ahir still had a couple more inches to grow before catching up with Father’s height.
“Opal.” Father crushed me in a bear hug.
I suppressed a wince. Five days of hard riding had not been conducive to healing. My injuries remained tender to the touch. He released me.
“Father, I would like to introduce you to Master Cowan, Second Magician. Master Cowan, this is my father, Jaymes Cowan.”
He shook her hand, and invited us inside the house for refreshments. Heat and the smell of molten glass radiated off his body.
Zitora declined. “It’s an urgent matter. Is there a private place we can talk?”
He shot me a look of alarmed concern. A familiar situation. If I had been guilty of any misdeed, I would have burst into tears and confessed upon seeing his ire. I quickly shook my head lest he suspect me of being in trouble.
“We can talk in my lab,” he said.
We followed him to a small one-story building tucked behind the factory. He led us into his laboratory, where he experimented with various sand mixtures and chemicals to produce glass of different colors and consistencies. Metal tables lined the room. Tools and various measuring equipment hung from neat rows of hooks, and stainless steel bowls had been stacked in precise piles.
The countertops gleamed in the light. Not a speck of errant sand marred the tables or crunched under a boot. Mother used to complain of Father’s messy armoire, and would wonder out loud how he could keep his lab pristine, yet fail to hang up his clothes.
His reply had always been one word. Contamination. He didn’t want any of his experiments being contaminated by spilled ingredients. It would throw off all his results, he claimed. Contamination also included children with sticky hands and dirty clothes, but his rules hadn’t stopped Tula and me from sneaking in here on occasion. I remembered the one time we hid under his desk, shaking in fear of being discovered, which inevitably happened. Our punishment had been to clean his lab for a season. After that season, we never ventured in here again.
Father sat at his desk and gestured for us to sit in the two other chairs. “What’s so important?”
Zitora explained about the Stormdance sand and fragile orbs. We placed the samples onto his desk.
“You think one of these ingredients is bad?” my father asked, staring at me. “How did you come to this conclusion?”
I told him about the old orbs and the differences I noticed. “The new orbs aren’t as sturdy. Same thickness, just not as dense.” I handed him a shard of Indra’s orb.
He examined the glass and tapped it on his fingernails, listening to the clinking sound. “All right. I’ll work on these. See what I can find.” He sorted through his bowls. “Why don’t you go into the house? Mother will be thrilled to see you both.”
I stood. “Can I help?”
He looked at me in surprise. “It’s better if I do it myself.” He must have seen my disappointment, because he added, “Would you like to learn what I do here?”
“Yes.” I had always wanted to know more about glass, but I knew he preferred to work alone.
“Okay. When we have time, I’ll teach you.”
“Really?” My turn to be surprised.
He smiled. “I’ve been waiting for one of my children to show an interest. Ahir doesn’t have the the patience and Mara… Mara is more interested in Leif than glass right now.”
We shared a laugh. Even though Mara had been pursued by every young man in the Cowan lands, only Yelena’s brother, Leif, had caught her attention. But since he was a powerful magician and worked at the Keep, they hardly had any time together. I wondered if Aydan still needed an apprentice. Mara could move to the Citadel and live near the Keep. She would be closer to Leif. And to me.
My humor leaked away. Back at the Keep, I knew no one missed me.
My mother worked in the kitchen. The delightful smell of bread stew permeated the air. Following the scent, I found my mother stirring a large pot. She greeted me with a peck on the cheek.
“Mara told me you were here. What took you so long? Your mother isn’t important enough to say hello to?”
I rushed to apologize. “We had—”
“Urgent business with Jaymes,” Zitora said.
Before she could lay on the guilt about not introducing her, I said, “Master Cowan, this is my mother, Vyncenza.”
My mother perked up at hearing Zitora’s title and launched into gracious host mode. “Opal, go get the good dishes from the cupboard and set the table. Use the fancy Jewelrose tablecloth, and make sure to put out enough silverware.” She clucked over my appearance. “Better get washed first and put on decent clothes!” She shooed me from the kitchen.
Her offers of every liquid beverage to Zitora reached me as I ascended the stairs. My mother wouldn’t be happy until the magician was seated with a drink and snack in hand.
The house had four bedrooms. Tula and I had shared a room. Only seven seasons apart in age, most who met us for the first time had thought we were twins. I entered the room. Tula’s grief flag hung suspended over her bed and I wondered how long Mother would keep it there.
Zitora and Yelena had sewn the white silk banner. They decorated it with animal shapes surrounding a single blade of grass with a drop of dew hanging from the tip. Honeysuckles were sewn along the border of the flag. It was a representation of Tula’s life and personality. A customary endeavor, making a flag for the deceased and flying it from the highest pole, to release the person’s soul to the sky. Then the flag was used to cover the soul’s most precious possessions in order to keep them from returning to earth to retrieve them. After a few years, most people removed the flag and gifted the items.
I had missed Tula’s flag-raising ceremony while a prisoner of Alea. Sitting on her bed, I ran my hand over the quilt. Last time I had seen my sister, she was in the Keep’s infirmary, recovering from being raped and tortured by Ferde Daviian. Alea—another one of those cursed Daviians—had promised Tula would live if I cooperated with her.
Curling up on Tula’s bed, I shuddered as a fresh wave of grief crashed into me. Alea had taken me to the Daviian Plateau, pricked me with Curare and left me paralyzed and alone for hours in her tent. And then he came.
No. I would not think about him.
I concentrated on Tula. My ordeal was nothing compared to hers. When I had finally been freed, I learned Ferde strangled her to death and stole her soul. Two weeks gone before I even knew about it. Two weeks a captive for nothing. She died anyway.
“Opal, are you done? The table won’t set itself,” my mother’s voice called.
I wiped tears from my cheeks as I hurried to wash and change. My thoughts turned to Kade’s grief over his sister, and I remembered thinking about how time would dull his pain. Which was true, but I had forgotten about the occasional knife of grief that stabbed you without warning.
I was mortified during most of dinner. Ahir and my mother were intent on telling embarrassing stories about me to Zitora. The Magician seemed to enjoy them and laughed, but I wanted to hide under the table.
“…naked and soapy from a bath, Opal goes streaking toward the factory, intent on telling her father about her toy duck. Well…” Mother paused for maximum impact. “She crashes right into him and he spills a bowlful of sand on her head! I cleaned sand from every nook and cranny in her body. For months!”
I cut through the peals of laughter. “Do you think I should check on Father? Won’t his dinner get cold?”
“Leave your father alone for now. You know how he gets when he’s working in his lab. Dinner will keep.”
I sighed. One avenue of escape thwarted.
Before my mother could launch into another humiliating story, I asked Zitora about her family.
Her humor faded. “I don’t remember my parents. My older sister raised me. We are ten years apart.”
Mara made sympathetic noises. “Sisters are great. I wish I saw mine more often.” She gave me a pointed stare.
Perhaps I would tell her about Aydan’s glass factory in the Citadel.
“Sometimes I wish mine would get lost,” Ahir joked.
“Mine is lost,” Zitora said in a quiet voice.
“What do you mean?” Mother asked.
“When the magicians came, they said I had strong magical powers and should be Keep trained. She escorted me to the Keep and left. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”
Gasps of horror ringed the table. Zitora shook her head through the barrage of questions from my mother and sister, and waved away Ahir’s apology.
“I searched for years,” Zitora said. “Chased every possible lead, visited every infirmary in Sitia, and viewed every unidentified corpse. Either she doesn’t want to be found or she’s dead and buried.” The Magician said the words with a flat tone as if she could no longer produce any emotions about her sister’s fate. Or she had exhausted her emotions.
“Why wouldn’t she want to be found?” Mother asked.
“Perhaps she wanted to start a new life,” Mara said. She rose from her seat and cleared the table.
“Perhaps someone is holding her against her will.” I suppressed a shudder; better to be dead and buried.
“Perhaps she was jealous of me. I don’t know anymore. I’ve thought about it for the last ten years and nothing feels right.” Zitora stood. Her chair scraped along the floor with a loud squeal. “Here.” She grabbed the dirty plates from Mara. “I’ll wash.”
Mother jumped from her seat with amazing speed. “Oh, no you don’t.” She hurried after Zitora, disappearing into the kitchen.
Mara, Ahir and I looked at each other.
“Who do you think will win?” Mara asked. “A Master Magician or Mother?”
I considered. “If you could call washing dishes winning, I’d bet money on Mother.”
“As much as it pains me to say this, I’d have to agree with Opal.” Ahir wrinkled his nose in mock distaste.
Sure enough Zitora returned from the kitchen. “Your mother—”
“A force of nature. We know,” Ahir said. “Come on, Mara, let’s go help her while Opal entertains her guest.”
My father woke me in the middle of the night. The bright glow from his lantern seared my eyes. Already awake, Zitora sat on the edge of her bed—my bed, actually. I had slept in Tula’s bed under her flag.
His words finally sank into my sleep-fogged mind.
“…found the cause of the weak glass,” he said. “Come.”
Chapter 9
I GRABBED MY cloak and hurried after my father. The sky glittered with stars and the half-moon cast a weak light over our compound. Father led Zitora and me to his lab.
Torches blazed and crackled. The air smelled of camphor and honey. Bowls filled with sand and water rested on the countertops along with opened jars and spilled ingredients. It was the first time I’d seen his lab messy.
“I had forgotten all about it,” he said, picking up a small porcelain bowl. “Hoped never to see the cursed substance again.” He thrust the container at Zitora.
Confused, she handed it to me. The contents appeared to be lime. I grabbed a pinch, and rubbed the white substance between my fingertips. Lime.
“Jaymes, what are you talking about?” she asked.
“What’s wrong with the lime, Father?”
He drew in a deep breath and settled into his chair.
“Thirty years ago, well before the Commander’s takeover of Ixia, we used to import sand and other glass compounds from the north. There were a number of glass factories in Booruby back then—twice as many as today—and competition was fierce.” My father’s gaze was unfocused as he stared into the past.
“I only had two kilns then, but my wares were different and I was new. Business boomed and I ordered another two kilns.”
Zitora opened her mouth, but I placed my hand on her shoulder, warning her to keep quiet with a slight shake of my head. He would get to the point of his story eventually, interrupting or hurrying him would only prolong the tale. We sat in the other two chairs and listened.
“Unfortunately my rivals took exception to my newfound success and plotted ways to discredit me. They started what’s now known as the Glass Wars. My factory was hit first. They contaminated my lime with Brittle Talc. It looks like lime, feels like lime, but if it gets into your molten mix, the talc affects the quality of your piece.”
“Makes it less dense?” I asked.
“Exactly. Drove me crazy, wondering why my glass broke so easily. Almost drove me out of business, too. Soon only a few glass factories remained. We suspected sabotage, but had no proof. I discovered the contaminant by accident. While shoveling my lime into bags to sell to the farmers because I was desperate for money, I spilled a bucket of water onto the pile. The lime turned purple.”
“Purple?” Zitora asked.
“Purple,” my father repeated. “The water reacted to the Brittle Talc, changing color. We didn’t know the name then, but when I made glass with lime that didn’t turn purple, it didn’t break. I was just happy to be back in business, but the other glassmakers who had been hit by the Brittle Talc decided to retaliate.”
“The Glass Wars,” I said, remembering my father’s stories. “You never told us about the Brittle Talc before.”
“I didn’t want you to know about it. Eventually, the man responsible for bringing the talc to Booruby was caught and the factory owners who started the whole mess were arrested. The factories that had survived the war in one piece signed an agreement to work together. Only a few of us knew about the talc and we promised to keep it quiet. There hasn’t been a problem—besides minor disagreements—since.”
Father pulled the bowl from my hands and set it on his desk. “This is a sample of the lime you brought back from the Stormdance Clan.” He tipped a glass of water into it. The lime turned purple.
“Could the talc get into the Stormdance lime by accident?” Zitora asked.
“Nope.”
“Who knows about Brittle Talc?”
“Me, my brother and two other master glassmakers.”
“Where does it come from?” I asked.
My father shot me a proud smile even though my question didn’t show any great intelligence on my part. “Ixia.”
Ixia. The northern country was named twice since I’ve been working with the Stormdancers. The old lady who sold me the glass vase at the Thunder Valley market also mentioned Ixia.
“We have a trade treaty with Ixia. All goods sent over the border either way are supposed to be recorded. Perhaps we can find out who is exporting Brittle Talc to Sitia. What is it made from?” Zitora asked.
“From the flowers of the Chudori plant. When dried, they can be crushed into a fine powder. The plant grows near the northern ice sheet and at the base of the Ixian Soul Mountains.”
“In other words, in locations where no one lives.” Zitora frowned.
“Where no one can witness the harvesting of the flowers.” He swirled the contents of the bowl.
“What about the man who man caught for bringing Brittle Talc to Booruby?” I asked. “Was he from Ixia or Sitia? Did he mention anyone who helped him make the talc?”
“Back then you could cross the border to Ixia without papers or permission. He had the pale coloring of a northerner. He claimed he worked alone, but he wouldn’t tell us anything more about himself or the talc.”
“Is he still alive?”
“No. He was killed in prison by a glassmaker’s son. The young man’s father killed himself when his business was destroyed and the son managed to get arrested and thrown into the same prison. No one in Booruby grieved.”
We sat for a while in silence. I mulled over the information my father had given us.
“Are any of the other glass ingredients from the Stormdancers tainted?” I asked.
Father gestured to the array of bowls. “Not that I could find, but there is always a chance it could be a substance I haven’t seen before.”
Zitora leaned closer to the desk. “How big of a chance?”
I answered for him. “Tiny. He’s been working with glass for over thirty years.”
“Opal, now don’t go making me sound so smart. But I will say the Brittle Talc is the only substance I found that affects the density of the glass. If there was another problem with the orbs, then I would tell the Storm-dancers to buy all new ingredients for their glass.”
But all they needed to buy was clean lime. “So the spiked lime was sabotaged. Who would do it?” No one spoke for a moment. I listed suspects in my mind, including the Stormdancers and the glassmakers. “Do you think the ambushers had anything to do with the tainted lime?”
“It’s possible. They planned to stop us from helping the Stormdancers. I would like to know who told them we were coming,” Zitora said.
“What’s next?” I asked her.
“I’ll contact Kade and tell him to order clean lime. We can question the glassmakers who knew about Brittle Talc before we leave.”
“I’ll talk to my brother,” my father said. “See if he heard anything.”
While Zitora returned to the house to pack, I stayed and helped my father clean his lab. As he handed me bottles of chemicals to put away, he explained the purpose of each one.
“When you add this white sand to the mix, it helps reduce seeds in your glass,” Father said.
His comment reminded me about the vase I had bought at Thunder Valley. It had many seeds or bubbles. When we finished, I ran to the house to retrieve my vase and met him in the kitchen.
“Missed dinner,” he said between bites.
I unwrapped the package, hoping the glass was still in one piece. The vase had been well cushioned and survived being blown by Kade’s wind.
My father held the piece up to the lantern light to examine it. The green bubbles refracted the light, casting splashes of color along the walls. “Interesting use of seeds.”
“How does it feel?” I asked.
“Light yet sturdy. Smooth. Well crafted.”
He misunderstood my question. I searched for the right words. “Do you feel any popping or throbbing through your…?” My words died in my mouth. His bewilderment told me all I needed to know.
“Throbbing? As in magic?”
A glimmer of hope. Perhaps he did know. “Yes.”
“No. I never felt anything from glass. It feels like a cold piece of crystal in my hands.”
I masked my disappointment.
“However, I recognize the craftsmanship and can tell you who made this.”
“Who?” Perhaps another magician like me!
“Ulrick, Cesca’s youngest son. Do you remember him?”
“Vaguely. Didn’t you work with Cesca on a big project?”
“Yep. I had an order for a hundred jars I couldn’t fill in time. She offered to help and we’ve worked together on a number of projects since then. In fact, she’s one of the glassmakers who was around during the Glass Wars and knows about the Brittle Talc.”
The coincidence seemed too easy, but it made sense. Cesca reminded me of my father. She was dedicated to her craft; she experimented with different recipes and tried new methods of glassmaking. Her children probably learned from her.
The only memory I have of Ulrick was his complete disregard for Ahir, Tula and me. He had followed Mara as if she held him on a leash.
Zitora came into the kitchen, dragging her saddlebag. My mother followed, carrying my bags.
“Mother,” I admonished, rushing to relieve her of the heavy burden. “You should be in bed. Dawn’s not for another hour.”
“Who can sleep with all the ruckus?” she said. “Besides you’re not leaving my house without something hot in your stomachs.” She held a hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. Opal, stir the fire to life and heat up the teakettle. Jaymes, take Master Cowan’s bag and saddle the horses.”
I laughed at Zitora’s chagrin as we hurried to complete our assigned tasks. “You might as well sit down and enjoy the attention,” I told her. “Next time you visit, you’ll be considered a member of the family and she’ll order you around, too.”
A slight wistful tone crept into the Master Magician’s voice. “I would like that very much.”
With stomachs full of Mother’s special sweet cakes, Zitora and I said our goodbyes to my family, and headed into the heart of Booruby. It was about an hour past dawn. The streets hummed with early-morning activity. Citizens bustled along the sidewalks as wagons rumbled over the cobblestones, making deliveries.
“Wicent’s factory is down Morgan Street.” I pointed to the curl of gray smoke hanging above a stone building. “Where do you want to meet?” Wicent was the other glassmaker who knew about Brittle Talc.
“The main road near the west side of Booruby. Stay in populated areas, Opal. We still don’t know where Blue Eyes is or why he wants you.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Zitora nodded and urged Sudi down Morgan Street. I stayed on the main road for a few blocks before turning left onto Glass Alley, so named for the numerous glass factories located here. I found Cesca’s factory. The largest on the block, her building housed ten kilns. A store to sell her wares occupied the front section of the factory.
I tied Quartz to a hitching post and entered the crowded store. All the sales staff were busy, so I examined the goods. Plates and bowls with swirls of colored and clear glass lined the shelves along with matching wine goblets. Water pitchers and vases all had the same delicate twist of color. A few pieces showed the artistry of another hand, with thicker handles on the pitchers and heavy drops of color in the bowls.
In the corner, a few of Ulrick’s pieces rested on a shelf. Covered with dust, the decanter and matching goblets were bumpy with bubbles. The glass resembled frozen sea foam. I stroked the decanter. Pulses of energy darted through my hand, numbing my fingers.
“Can I help you?” a woman’s voice asked.
I removed my hand and looked up. A saleswoman waited with a polite smile and bored eyes.
“I need to speak with Cesca. It’s important.”
“I’m sure you think it’s important.” The woman eyed my travel clothes and sighed. “She’s busy working.” She put her hand on my elbow and guided me toward the door. “Send her a message, perhaps she’ll agree to meet.”
Before I knew it, I stood outside on the sidewalk. Quartz snorted in what sounded like amusement. I shot my horse a sour look. Peering through the window of the shop, I flinched. The rude saleswoman laughed with a customer. She pointed and everyone in the store turned to look at me. I moved from their sight. Not wanting to make a scene, I circled the building, searching for another entrance.
The storage sheds were located behind the factory. Workers pushing wheelbarrows moved between the shed and main building. I followed a man with a load of soda ash into the heat and roar of the factory. A sense of urgent production radiated from the workers. Serious expressions and quick motions kept them absorbed in their tasks. I spotted a few women bent over their work, but none resembled Cesca.
A hand touched my arm and I spun to deflect it, thinking about the rude saleswoman. A man stepped back with his hands out. I stopped and stared. The green in his eyes was so vivid it reminded me of lush grass lit by morning sunlight. Long black eyelashes outlined his eyes and matched his short dark hair. Even the smudges of dirt on his chiseled chin enhanced his features.
“…doing here?” He shouted over the din.
“I’m looking for Cesca. Do you know where she is?”
He peered at me with distrust. I hadn’t realized Cesca was so famous.
“Why do you want to see her?”
“Tell her Jaymes’s daughter, Opal, wishes to see her about an important matter.”
“Mara’s younger sister?” Interest flared in his gorgeous eyes.
Every man in Booruby knew and worshipped my sister. He looked close to her age of twenty-two, which probably meant they went to school together. I suppressed my annoyance. “Yes. And the matter is rather urgent.”
“Follow me.” He led me from the factory and into the cooler air. The man cut down an alley.
I hesitated on entering the quiet narrow street, remembering Zitora’s orders to be careful. But I decided the need to talk to Cesca was more important.
He stopped midway and knocked on a door, ushering me into a large storeroom filled with glasswares, crates and packing material. In the far corner an elderly woman sat behind an immense desk. Her thin skin clung to her face, revealing the contours of her skull beneath.
“This had better be imperative, Ulrick, or I won’t let you near my kilns for a season.” Her voice barked surprisingly strong.
I glanced at Ulrick with interest. He was the popping glassmaker. Unaware of my appraisal, Ulrick introduced me to his mother and retreated to the other side of the room to allow us more privacy. I explained to her about the Stormdancers orbs and the Brittle Talc.
“Nasty,” she said. “That horrid stuff almost ruined me. How can I help?”
I paused. Knowing I needed to choose my words with care, I gathered my thoughts. “Does anyone else know about the properties of Brittle Talc?”
“Yes. My children all know. We still check every shipment of lime for the contaminant.”
“And you have…?”
“Five children, three boys and two girls. Two daughters- in-law, one son-in-law and six grandchildren.” She beamed with pride. “They all work here, except the grandchildren and my daughter Gressa—she’s in the Moon Clan’s lands. All have been trained to work with glass. They make wonderful pieces. Well…most do.” Cesca glanced at Ulrick.
He sorted goblets, rolled them in cotton sheets and placed them into a wooden crate. His movements precise and efficient; the strong muscles in his arms and body apparent to me even though he wore plain gray overalls.
Cesca’s family created eight more suspects. I wouldn’t have time to talk to them all. “Has anyone asked you about Brittle Talc?”
“Besides my family?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“But someone within your family was interested?”
The woman shot me a scathing look. “I hope you’re not implying one of my family members could be responsible for those brittle orbs.”
I rushed to assure her. “Of course not. But they may have talked to a friend or colleague. We’re just trying to find out who knows about the substance.”
“Ulrick had asked for more information about it. He wanted to use it. The boy likes to craft flawed pieces,” she said with a disdainful tone in her voice. “I told him if he ever brought Brittle Talc anywhere near Booruby, I would report him to the authorities. That is a criminal offence around here.” She pounded on her desk with a bony fist. “He never mentioned it again. Smart move.” Her pointed stare implied I should do the same.
Time to retreat. “Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else about this matter, could you please tell my father?”
She agreed, but, by her dismissive wave, I knew she wouldn’t pursue the subject. As I threaded through the crates, I spotted another one of Ulrick’s vases lying on the floor. I picked it up. The blue glass contained bubbles that had been stretched into long thin tubes. Marvelous. Tiny tremors rumbled in my fingers.
“Here,” Ulrick said, holding out his hand. “I’ll put that away.”
“Did you make it?”
A guarded expression cloaked his emotions. “Yes.”
“It’s fantastic.”
He rocked back in surprise. I stifled a laugh, remembering when Yelena had shocked me by being able to see the inner glow in my glass animals.
“But it’s unconventional. The seeds…” He shrugged.
“The bubbles enhance the piece.”
He gaped. I gave him the vase. When both of our hands touched the glass, it sang. A brief burst of surprised joy. If Ulrick heard the song, he didn’t give any indication.
I decided to risk being ridiculed. “What I also like about this vase is its joyful tune.”
Shock, fear and amazement flashed. He glanced at his mother, then grabbed my elbow, dragging me out to the alley.
“You heard it…sing?”
He hadn’t let go of my elbow.
“Only when you and I both touched it. Otherwise I feel its song.”
“Feel?” His fingers dug into my skin.
I pried his hand off. “Yes. It pops when I touch it.”
“But…but…” He yanked at his hair. “No one else can hear it. Or feel it. I don’t even know what it is.”
“It’s magic. Another magician should be able to feel the vibrations.”
Sudden recognition lit his eyes. “You’re the one who was invited to the Magician’s Keep! You’re the glass magician.”
I flinched. He used the same title as Blue Eyes.
He held up his vase. “Does this make me a magician?”
Probably a One-Trick Wonder like me, but I wasn’t going to say it aloud. “I don’t know. I’m meeting with Master Cowan soon. Perhaps you should talk to her. Can you leave for a few hours?”
Ulrick frowned at the door to the warehouse. “No one will miss me.”
“Sorry I was rather abrupt earlier,” Ulrick said as we led Quartz through Booruby’s crowded avenues. “I didn’t recognize you. You’ve grown.”
“So have you.” I glanced at him before focusing on the street. Quartz bumped my arm and I almost stumbled into him. “Watch it,” I muttered to her.
“Excuse me?”
“Not you. Quartz.”
Ulrick scanned the horse. His eyebrows cocked into an appreciative arc. “She’s well-bred. Must be a Sandseed horse. I’m surprised there are any left.”
The renegade Daviian Clan had decimated the Sandseed Clan, but a few members survived and started anew on the Avibian Plains. “Quartz is the first one to come to the Magician’s Keep in four years.”
“And she was given to you. You must be a powerful magician.”
“I’m not powerful.” I rushed to explain. “I helped a friend, who put in a good word for me about Quartz.”
“Fortunate for you.” His mouth twisted into a bitter frown. “Fortunate that you were invited to the Keep in the first place. That you get to travel with a Master Magician.” He was quiet for a few paces. “I guess you don’t feel lucky. You seem so casual about it all.”
“Would you rather I flaunt it?”
“I would flaunt it.”
But I didn’t earn my position and, even if I did, I wouldn’t take it for granted. At least, I hoped I wouldn’t. “A combination of tragic circumstances led to the discovery of my talent. You might have the same power.”
“I’m too old. Even my mother has given up on me.” Anger laced his words.
“You’re not too old. The Keep brought in Yelena Zaltana when she was twenty.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And Master Bloodgood mentioned searching for another…glass magician. Perhaps you’ll be one, too.”
“Perhaps.”
He didn’t sound happy about the prospect. I studied his strong profile. Eventually, he turned to me. “I’ve learned not to hope. When I made my first bubble vase, it sang with happiness. I was so proud of my creation until my mother dashed it to pieces in the cullet barrel. She claimed it was flawed and I should try again. Nothing I made suited her, while my younger sister, Gressa’s pieces thrilled her. Mother only let me display a vase in her shop to stop me from pestering her. She figured no one would purchase it, and its coating of dust would deter me from making more.”
“But you’ve sold some. I bought one at the market in Thunder Valley.”
“You did? Which one?”
I stopped Quartz and rummaged through my saddlebags. “The design caught my eye, but the popping sealed the sale.” Holding up the little vase with its green bubbles, I smiled at Ulrick’s surprise. “You just need to find the right customers.”
Tucking the vase back into my bag, I grabbed Quartz’s reins and headed west on Vine Street. The road emptied. Ulrick could now walk beside me without being jostled.
“Nelinda said she could sell my pieces,” he said in amazement. “I didn’t believe her.”
“Well, she claimed the glassmaker lives in Ixia.”
He laughed. It was a rich sound, heavy and deep. “Never trust a saleswoman. I guess an Ixian glassmaker gives them a more exotic appeal.”
“They would sell well in the Citadel’s market.” I thought about Aydan and his kilns. Perhaps Ulrick could work with Aydan and me while he studied at the Keep.
Now I was hoping. I shook my head. After my last year of schooling, I would probably return to my parents’ factory. I should be concentrating on the problem at hand and not daydreaming about the future. My thoughts led to the Stormdancers’ orbs, and I remembered Cesca had said her children knew about the Brittle Talc.
“Do you use any special ingredients for your pieces?” I asked Ulrick.
“A few. I like to experiment with the mixture. I used vinegar once to see if I would get more bubbles in the glass.” His gaze held a faraway look as he grinned in amusement. “I did get bubbles. More than I could handle. The vinegar reacted with the lime as soon as I added it. I cleaned the mess for days and I was banned from the mixture room for a season.”
“What other compounds have you tried?”
He shot me a sly smile. “Fishing for information?”
“Just curious.”
“My mother taught me to never trust a fellow glassmaker. What do you really want to know?”
I debated about what I should tell him. “Your mother mentioned you had an interest in Brittle Talc.”
“So that’s why you came to see her. Has someone spiked your family’s lime?”
“No. It’s regarding another matter.”
He waited. The tight buildings of the city dwindled as we walked. A scattering of houses and factories trailed from Booruby like crumbs from a cookie. The acrid smells of the city faded into the moist aroma of manure and wood smoke.
“Never trust a fellow glassmaker. You said so yourself,” I said.
“You think I used Brittle Talc to taint another’s glass?” His voice rumbled low in warning.
It was possible. Instead, I said, “No. I just wondered why you were interested in the substance.”
He stopped. “It’s none of your business.”
“But it is my business,” Zitora said from behind us.
I jumped and Ulrick spun around. She sat on Sudi’s back with her sword in hand.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“That was my question, considering you’re with my student.”
I introduced the Master Magician to Ulrick. He had the good sense to relax his threatening stance, but he ruined any chance of getting on her good side with a comment about her youthful appearance. She scowled.
“Sorry, Master Cowan.” He rushed to make amends. “You surprised me. I didn’t hear you behind us.”
“You weren’t supposed to. Now answer Opal’s question about the Brittle Talc.”
“No.”
Zitora glanced at me, questioning. I knew she wanted me to name him as a suspect, then she could have Master Jewelrose delve deeper into his private thoughts. But the breach in privacy would cause more harm than good. The magic in his glass pieces might be beneficial to us and it wouldn’t help if he was resentful over the Master’s intrusion.
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Maria V. Snyder
Untrained.Untested.Unleashed.With her unique magical abilities, Opal Cowan has always felt unsure of her place at Sitia’s magic academy – but now it’s time to test her powers in the real world. Under threat from a deadly massacre, the powerful Stormdancer clan need Opal’s unusual skills to protect their people.And their plea is impossible to resist, especially when it comes from mysterious, mercurial Kade.Yet pulling her powers in unfamiliar directions pushes Opal to uncover a new kind of magic as stunningly potent as it is frightening, with danger and deception rising around her, will Opal’s untested abilities destroy her – or save them all?A CHRONICLES OF IXIA NOVEL'A compelling new fantasy series’ – Rhianna Pratchett, SFX on Poison Study The Chronicles of IxiaPoison StudyMagic StudyFire StudyStorm GlassSea GlassSpy GlassShadow Study
storm glass
‘We have a mission for you,’ Zitora explained. She had twisted her honey–brown hair into a complex braid. The end of the braid reached her hips, but she fidgeted with it, twirling it around and through her fingers.
A mission from the Masters! I leaned forward.
‘The Stormdancers’ glass orbs have been shattering,’ Master Jewelrose said.
‘Oh.’ I relaxed in my chair. Not a magical mission.
‘Do you know how important these orbs are, child?’ Master Bloodgood asked.
I remembered my lessons about the Stormdancer Clan. Their magicians—called Stormdancers—had the unique ability to siphon a storm’s energy into an orb, taming the storm’s killing winds and rain, and providing an energy source for the clan.
But why me? I was still learning. ‘You need a master glassmaker. My father—’
‘Time is of the essence, child.’ Master Bloodgood’s tone saddened. ‘When an orb shatters, it kills a Stormdancer.’
Also by New York Times bestselling author
Maria V. Snyder
The Chronicles of Ixia
POISON STUDY
MAGIC STUDY
FIRE STUDY
STORM GLASS
SEA GLASS
SPY GLASS
The Insider series
INSIDE OUT
OUTSIDE IN
Avry of Kazan series
TOUCH OF POWER
SCENT OF MAGIC
www.miraink.co.uk
Storm Glass
Maria V. Snyder
www.miraink.co.uk (http://www.miraink.co.uk)
To my sister, Karen Philips, for all the advice, support and good times (BFF). This book has a definite sister vibe!
Chapter 1
THE HOT AIR pressed against my face as I entered the glass factory. The heat and the smell of burning coal surrounded me in a comforting embrace. I paused to breathe in the thick air. The roar of the kilns sounded as sweet as my mother’s voice.
“Opal!” Aydan yelled above the noise. “Are you going to stand there all day? We have work to do.” He gestured with a thin gnarled hand.
I hurried to join him. Working in the heat had turned his gray hair into a frizzy mop. Dirt streaked his hands. He grimaced in pain when he sat at his workbench, rubbing his lower back with a fist.
“You’ve been shoveling coal again,” I admonished. He tried to look innocent, but before he could lie, I asked, “What happened to your apprentice?”
“Ran off once he figured out how hard it is to turn fire into ice.” Aydan grunted.
“Well, I’m here now.”
“You’re late.”
“Sorry, I had a…test.” I sighed. Another frustrating, fruitless endeavor. Not only had I failed to light the fire, but I knocked over the candles, spilling hot wax all over my classmate Pazia’s clothes and burning her skin. Her expensive silk tunic was ruined. She sneered in disdain when I offered to replace her shirt. Nothing new. Pazia’s hostility spanned my entire four years at the Keep. Why would I expect my last year to be any different?
After starting my fifth year of lessons at the Magician’s Keep, I had hoped to be able to do more with my magic. Pazia’s abilities had grown so much since we sat next to each other during our very first session that the Master Magicians considered allowing her to take the Master- level test.
I’d learned about Sitia’s history, politics, how to fight and about the uses for magic, but my ability to tap into the power source remained elusive. Doubts flared and the nagging feeling of being limited to one magical skill churned in my chest. And it didn’t help my confidence when I overheard my fellow students calling me the One-Trick Wonder.
“Jealousy,” Aydan had said when I told him about my nickname. “You saved Sitia.”
I thought of the day—over four years ago—when I helped Liaison Yelena capture those evil souls. She had done all the work, I was merely a conduit. I tried to downplay my involvement, but Aydan remained stubborn.
“You’re a hero and those children can’t stand it.”
Remembering his words made me smile. Calling fifteen to twenty-year-olds children was typical for Aydan, a proud curmudgeon.
He tapped my arm with a blowpipe. “Stop daydreaming and gather me a slug.”
I grabbed the hollow rod and opened the oven. Intense light burst from the furnace as if a piece of the sun was trapped inside. I spun the end of the rod in the molten glass and twisted it up and out, removing taffylike ball before my eyebrows and eyelashes could be singed off again.
The cherry-red slug on the end of the iron pulsed as if alive. Aydan blew through the pipe then covered the hole. A small bubble appeared in the molten glass. Resting the pipe on the metal arms of his gaffer’s bench, Aydan rolled the pipe back and forth, shaping the glass.
I helped him as he created an intricate vase with a twist at the bottom so the piece actually rested on its side yet could still hold water. In his hands, turning glass into art appeared to be an easy task. I loved the unique properties of molten glass which could be molded into such wonderful objects. We worked for hours, but the time flew.
When he finished his artwork, Aydan stood on creaky legs and said the words that were the reason I came to help him after my Keep classes. “Your turn.”
He exchanged places with me and grabbed a hollow pipe. While he gathered a slug, I made sure all the metal tools lying on the bench were in their proper places. All I needed was my annoying younger brother telling me to hurry, and my patient older sister helping me to complete the feeling of being in my family’s glass factory.
Sitting at the bench was home—familiar and comfortable. Here and here alone, I was in control. The possibilities endless and no one could tell me otherwise.
All thoughts fled when Aydan placed the pipe in front of me. Glass cooled quickly and I had no time to dwell on anything but shaping the molten ball. Using metal tweezers, I pulled and plucked. When the slug transformed into a recognizable image, I blew through the end of the pipe. The piece’s core glowed as if lit by an inner fire.
My one magical trick—the ability to insert a thread of magic inside the glass statue. Only magicians could see the captured light.
Aydan whistled in appreciation of the finished piece. Technically his ability to light fires with magic made him a magician, but since he didn’t possess any other talent he hadn’t been invited to study at the Keep. I shouldn’t have been invited, either. I could make my special glass animals at my home in Booruby.
“Damn, girl.” Aydan slapped me on the back. “That’s a dead-on copy of Master Jewelrose’s red-tailed hawk! Did you make that for her?”
“Yes. She needed another piece.” I never knew what I would create when I sat down at the gaffer’s bench, but my time spent helping Master Jewelrose care for her hawk must have influenced me. The core glowed bright red and called to me with a song of longing. Each of my creations had a distinctive voice that sounded inside me. No one else could hear its call.
“See? That’s another talent you have.” He bustled about and placed the hawk into the annealing oven so it could cool slowly. “Magicians can now communicate over vast distances with these animals of yours.”
“Only those who have the power of mental communication.” Another skill I lacked, mind reading. For those who possessed the ability, they only needed to hold one of my animals and they could “talk” to each other through the magic trapped inside. I’d admit to feeling a measure of pride over their usefulness, but I would never brag about it. Not like Pazia, who flaunted everything she did.
“Pah! It’s still one of the most important discoveries of recent years. Stop being so modest. Here—” he handed me a shovel “—put more coal in the kiln, I don’t want the temperature to drop overnight.”
End of pep talk. I scooped up the special white coal and added it to the fire under the kiln. Since Aydan sold his glass pieces as art, he only needed one—a small shop compared to my family’s eight kilns.
When I finished, my garments clung to my sweaty skin and strands of my brown hair stuck to my face. Coal dust scratched my throat.
“Can you help me mix?” Aydan asked before I could leave.
“Only if you promise to hire a new apprentice tomorrow.”
He grumbled and grouched, but agreed. We mixed sands from different parts of Sitia. A secret recipe developed generations ago. It would be combined with soda ash and lime before it could be melted into glass.
As I tried to trick Aydan into telling me where the pink-colored sand came from, a messenger from the Keep arrived. A first-year student, he wrinkled his nose at the heat.
“Opal Cowan?” he asked.
I nodded and he huffed. “Finally! I’ve been searching the Citadel for you. You’re wanted back at the Keep.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who wants me?”
He glowed with glee as if he were my younger brother delivering news of my impending punishment from our parents.
“The Master Magicians.”
I had to be in big trouble. No other reason for the Masters to send for me. As I rushed after the messenger— an ambitious fellow to be running errands for the Masters in his first year, and who’d already decided I wasn’t worth talking to—I thought of the mishap this morning with Pazia. She had wanted to get me expelled from my first day. Perhaps she finally succeeded.
We hurried through the Citadel’s streets. Even after four years, the city’s construction still amazed me. All the buildings had been built with white marble slabs streaked with green veins. If I was alone, I would have trailed my hands over the walls as I walked, daydreaming of creating a city made of glass.
Instead, I ran past the buildings as the brilliant color dulled with the darkening sky. The Keep’s guards waved us through—another bad sign. We vaulted up the stairs two at a time to reach the administration building. Nestled in the northeast corner of the Citadel, the Keep’s campus with its four imposing towers marked the boundaries. Inside, the buildings had been constructed from a variety of colored marble and hardwoods.
The administration’s peach-and-yellow blocks used to soothe me, but not today. The messenger abandoned me at the entrance to the Masters’ meeting room. Hot from my sprint, I wanted to remove my cloak, but it hid my sweat-stained shirt and work pants. I rubbed my face, trying to get the dirt off and pulled my long hair into a neat bun.
Before I knocked, another possible reason for my summons dawned. I had lingered too long at the glass factory and missed my evening riding lesson. In the last year of instruction at the Keep, the apprentice class learned about horse care and riding to prepare us for when we graduated to magician status. As magicians we would be required to travel around the lands of the eleven clans of Sitia to render aid where needed.
Perhaps the Stable Master had reported my absence to the Masters. The image of facing the three magicians and the Stable Master together caused a chill to shake my bones. I turned away from the door, seeking escape. It opened.
“Do not hover about, child. You’re not in trouble,” First Magician Bain Bloodgood said. He gestured for me to follow him into the room.
With curly gray hair sticking out at odd intervals and a long blue robe, the old man’s appearance didn’t match his status as the most powerful magician in Sitia. In fact, Third Magician Irys Jewelrose’s stern demeanor hinted at more power than Master Bloodgood’s wrinkled face. And if someone passed Second Magician Zitora Cowan in the street, that person would not even think the young woman possessed enough talent to endure the Master-level test.
Sitting around an oval table, the three Masters stared at me. I quashed the desire to hide. After all, Master Bloodgood had said I wasn’t in trouble.
“Sit down, child,” First Magician said.
I perched on the edge of my seat. Zitora smiled at me and I relaxed a bit. We were both members of the Cowan clan, and she always made time from her busy schedule to talk to me. And, at twenty-five years old, she was only six years older than me.
I glanced around the room. Maps of Sitia and Ixia decorated the walls, and an oversize geographical map with its edges dropping off the sides covered the mahogany table.
“We have a mission for you,” Zitora said. She had twisted her honey-brown hair into a complex braid. The end of the braid reached her hips, but she fidgeted with it, twirling it around and through her fingers.
A mission for the Masters! I leaned forward.
“The Stormdancers’ glass orbs have been shattering,” Master Jewelrose said.
“Oh.” I relaxed in my chair. Not a magical mission.
“Do you know how important those orbs are, child?” Master Bloodgood asked.
I remembered my lessons about the Stormdance Clan. Their magicians—called Stormdancers—had the unique ability to siphon a storm’s energy into an orb. The benefits were twofold: tame the storm’s killing winds and rain, and provide an energy source for the clan’s other industries. “Very important.”
“And this is a critical time of the year. The cooling season is when the storms from the Jade Sea are most frequent and strong,” Zitora said.
“But doesn’t the clan have master glassmakers? Surely they can fix the problem?”
“The old glassmaker died, child. Those left behind were trained to make the orbs, but the glass is flawed. You need to help them find and correct the problem.”
Why me? I was still learning. “You need to send a master glassmaker. My father—”
“Is in Booruby with all the other experts, but…” Master Jewelrose paused. “The problem might not be with the glass. Perhaps the old glassmaker used magic when he crafted the orbs. Perhaps magic similar to yours.”
My heart melted as if thrown into a kiln. Events had become too hot too quick and the results could have cracks. I had worked with glass since I could remember, yet there was still so much to learn. “When…when do we leave?”
“Today,” Zitora said.
My alarm must have been obvious.
“Time is of the essence, child.” Master Bloodgood’s tone saddened. “When an orb shatters, it kills a Stormdancer.”
Chapter 2
I GAPED AT Master Bloodgood. There weren’t many Stormdancers born in the clan; to lose even one could threaten the western clans of Sitia. “How many?”
“Two have died. The first time an orb failed, the clan thought it was a fluke, after the second, they stopped dancing.”
A fire of worry flared in my stomach. Just one full- strength storm could wipe out the four clans whose lands bordered the Jade Sea, leaving behind a wasteland. A huge responsibility. Problems with the glass I could probably handle, but with magic… No way.
“Go pack your saddlebags, child. You will leave as soon as you are ready. Zitora will go with you.”
“And how many guards will accompany me this time?” She sighed.
The entire population of the Keep knew Zitora’s displeasure over being accompanied by guards on her missions. Having only passed the Master-level test five years ago, most magicians still thought of her as an apprentice instead of the second-most-powerful magician. And with the horrible events that led to the death of Roze Featherstone, the former First Magician, the Councillors of Sitia were being overprotective of the three remaining Masters.
“Just the two of you this time,” Master Jewelrose said with a smile. “You can move faster.”
Zitora stood with a burst of energy. “We’ll leave within the hour.”
“Contact us if you need help. Opal, have you finished my new glass animal?”
“Yes. It’s at Aydan’s factory. I think you’ll like this one.”
“I love them all. It’s a shame they lose their spark after a while.” Master Jewelrose grew thoughtful. “But it makes sense. The magic inside is a certain quantity. Once used, it’s gone.”
“Job security for Opal.” Master Bloodgood stroked the map in front of him. His gaze settled on me. “We have been searching for another magician to apprentice to you. No luck so far. The Council’s been bugging us to share your wonderful glass…messengers.”
Right now, I made them for the Masters and for magicians who were on assignment. At least one magician carried one of my glass animals in each town.
“It would be helpful if we could find another able to duplicate her skill.” Master Jewelrose agreed.
My skill. Singular. The One-Trick Wonder. I should be content with providing those messengers for the magicians. Content with my role in life. But I’d seen the wonders magic can do and I wanted more. Magic and glass had so much in common. Both were fluid. Both held endless potential to be shaped and used in various ways. I desired to gather the magic to me and spin it into a marvel.
“Let’s go.” Zitora strode toward the door and I hurried after her.
She paused when we reached the outside. Darkness blanketed the Keep’s campus and the smell of burning wood tainted the air. The empty walkways reflected the weak moonlight. The other students were probably in their rooms, studying and preparing for tomorrow.
“We can get in a couple hours of travel tonight,” Zitora said. “Go get a change of clothes and pack a few essential supplies. We’ll buy food on the road. I’ll meet you in the barn. You have a horse, right?”
“Yes, but I just started my lessons.” Another worry.
“Which horse is yours?”
“A painted mare named Quartz.”
“The Sandseed bred horse? How did you get so lucky?”
“Yelena was visiting the Keep when the new herd of horses arrived. She told the Stable Master to save Quartz for me.”
Zitora laughed. “And Yelena is the only person the Stable Master listens to when it comes to horses. There are hidden perks when you save someone’s life.”
“But I didn’t—”
She waved my protest away with her nimble fingers. It had been thoughtful of Yelena to choose a horse for me, but once the story about her involvement flew through the campus population like sand grains in the wind, I lost the few acquaintances I had to jealousy. Again.
Liaison Yelena was the true hero of Sitia and Ixia. If she talked to a student, the gossips mulled over the implications for weeks.
“Don’t worry about not being an expert with a horse. Quartz will follow Sudi. All you need to do is stay in the saddle.” She moved to leave, then stopped. “Opal, go visit the armory before you come to the barn.”
“Why?”
“It’s time to trade in your practice sais for real ones.”
“Thirteen inches or fifteen inches?” Captain Marrok, the Keep’s new Weapons Master asked with impatience, after I’d grabbed my supplies and cleaned up.
When I didn’t respond, he yanked my right arm out and measured my forearm from wrist to elbow.
“Thirteen inches should work.” He rummaged around the armory. Swords hung on the walls and spears glinted from racks. Arrows lined up like soldiers, and the odor of metallic sweat and leather filled the air.
I rubbed my forearm, massaging the thick muscles and tracing my burn scars with a finger. One benefit of working with glass, strong arms, but they limited my flexibility when fighting. By the end of my first year, the Weapons Master had decided that, even though I could heft and move a staff of wood like a pontil iron, I was too slow. He made the same assessment of me with a sword and a spear.
I found the sais by accident when I helped clean up after a practice session. They resembled strange short swords, but instead of a flat blade, the weapon’s main shaft was thick—about half an inch wide near the hilt and a quarter of an inch at the tip—and rounded yet with eight flat sides. Octagonal, the Weapons Master had called it. Only the tip of the shaft was sharp. He was thrilled I had discovered them, claiming they were the perfect weapon for me as they needed arm strength and hand dexterity.
“Here, try these. If they’re too heavy, I’ll find you a lighter pair.” The Weapons Master handed me two sais, one for each hand. The silver metal shone as if recently polished. The U-shaped guard pointed toward the tip of the weapon so the sais resembled a three-pronged pitchfork with a very long center tine.
I executed a few blocks and strikes to get the feel of the weapons.
“These are heavier than the practice ones,” I said.
“Too heavy? I started to add weight to your practice pair, but the Masters are in a rush. That’s always the way.” He tsked.
“They’re fine.”
“Practice as often as you can. You might want to cut bigger slits in your cloak so you can grab them quicker.” He hurried over to a large chest in the corner of the armory. Lifting the lid, he sorted through the contents and removed a belt with two short scabbards. “Wear this when you carry them. Horses don’t like to be poked with the pointy ends. Not good for your legs, neither.”
I thanked him and ran toward the stables. The weight of the weapons hanging from my waist seemed heavier. Would I need to use them? Could I defend myself? This whole mission felt as if I’d been wrenched from a kiln before I could reach the perfect temperature.
In the stables, Zitora helped the Stable Master saddle Quartz. The Stable Master muttered and fussed to no one in particular as he yanked straps and adjusted the reins. In the weak lantern light, Quartz’s reddish-brown areas appeared black and the white parts looked gray. She nickered at me in greeting and I stroked her nose. Her face was brown except for a white patch between her eyes.
Already saddled, Sudi, Zitora’s roan-colored mare shuffled with impatience.
When the Stable Master handed me Quartz’s reins, he said, “You’re going to be sore tomorrow and in outright pain by the next day. Stop often to stretch your muscles and rest your back.”
“There won’t be time,” Zitora said as she mounted Sudi.
“Why am I not surprised? Dashing off before she’s properly trained is becoming standard procedure around here.” The Stable Master shook his head and ranted under his breath. He ambled past the horse stalls, checking water buckets.
“Do you have a Barbasco yam?” Zitora asked. “That’ll help with the pain.”
“I don’t need it. How bad can it be?”
It was bad. And not just regular bad. After three days, the pain was back-wrenching, legs-burning, mind- numbing bad.
Zitora set a killer pace. We only stopped for food, to rest and care for the horses, and to sleep a few hours. Not long enough to wring out the exhaustion soaked into my bones.
Memories of a similar trip threatened my sleep and nagged at me. The night Master Jewelrose had startled me from a deep slumber and hustled me onto her horse before I knew what was happening. I’d clung to her as we bolted for the Citadel. All I had known during that frantic five-day trip, was my sister needed me. Enough knowledge to ignore the pain.
I focused on the Stormdancers’ troubles to distract myself. We had left the Citadel through the south gate, headed southwest for a day to reach the border of the Stormdance lands, then turned west. Zitora hoped to arrive at the coast in another three days.
At various times throughout the trip, my worries over the mission had flared, and doubts jabbed my thoughts. If magic was involved, I wouldn’t be able to solve the problem and precious time would be wasted.
On the night of our fourth day, we stopped at a market in Thunder Valley. Zitora bought a Barbasco yam for me and managed to hand it over without any gloating. Impressive. My brother would have done an “I told you so” dance for weeks.
The market buzzed with activity. Vendors sold the usual fruits, vegetables and meats, but a strange shrub was heaped on a couple of tables. About three feet tall, the plant’s leaves were hairy and separated into leaflets.
“That’s indigo,” Zitora said when I asked. “It’s used to make ink, one of the Stormdance industries. They also make metal goods like those sais you carry.”
And they harvested storms. Busy clan.
I chewed on the yam as we hurried through our shopping. I would have enjoyed lingering over the glass- wares, but suppressed my disappointment. No sense complaining when exhaustion lined Zitora’s heart- shaped face, reminding me this wasn’t a pleasure trip. Perhaps we could stop on the way home.
After we secured our fresh supplies to the saddles, we mounted. I braced for the now-familiar jolt of protest from my abused muscles, but was surprised when none came. The yam worked fast.
Amusement lit her pale yellow eyes.
“Thanks for the yam, Zit…er…Master Cowan.”
Her humor faded and I berated myself for my slip of the tongue. She had been adamant about the students calling her Master Cowan. We all knew her frustration caused by everyone’s casual attitude toward her. But she was so sweet. When she noticed me and remembered details about my life, I wanted to confide in her and become her best friend.
She sighed. “Call me Zitora. I shouldn’t expect respect if I haven’t earned it.”
“That’s not it.”
“What do you mean?”
Feeling as though I’d melted more glass than I could handle, I cast about for the right words. “You’ll always be Zitora to the students. You’re not…intimidating enough. You don’t have the stern demeanor of Master Jewelrose or the walking textbook wisdom of Master Bloodgood. You can require us to call you Master, but we don’t feel the title in our hearts.” Her annoyance deepened toward anger, so I hurried on. “But you’re… approachable. You’re someone to confide in, to go to when in trouble. I think if all the Masters were unapproachable, the campus environment would be stilted. Uncomfortable.”
When she didn’t say anything, I added, “But that’s my impression. I could be wrong.” I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. The One-Trick Wonder telling a Master Magician about how she was perceived was as ill- advised as the Masters sending me to the Stormdance Clan to fix their orbs.
Without a word, Zitora spurred Sudi into a gallop. See? She was too nice to chastise me. Master Jewel- rose would have sent me to scrub the kitchen floors for a week.
But, when we finally stopped to sleep in the early- morning hours, and as I tried to get comfortable on the hard shale covering the ground, I thought her choice of a stop-over site could be in retaliation for my comment.
Zitora remained by our small fire, but noticed me squirming in my blankets. “It’s all like this.” She gestured to the ground. “From here on out.”
“Like what?”
“Shale. Sheets and sheets of it. A few smooth places, others riddled with grooves or broken into gravel. All you’ll see under your feet is an ugly gray until we reach the coast. It’s called The Flats. No trees. A few bushes. Then… Well, The Cliffs before the sea are spectacular. Carved by wind and water, the piles of shale have been sculpted into beautiful shapes and bridges.”
She returned to staring at the fire. “Go to sleep, Opal. You need the rest.”
I was unable to keep my eyes open and too tired to question if she used magic on me.
For once, my overactive imagination and past memories didn’t invade my dreams.
My sleep remained blissful until a sharp point pricked my throat, waking me. Alarmed, I stared at a sword’s blade hovering mere inches from my chin. My gaze followed the long sharp weapon to its owner.
A person wearing a gray mask loomed over me.
Chapter 3
“GET UP SLOWLY,” the man ordered. “No sudden moves. And keep your hands where I can see them.”
Hard to argue with an armed bandit. I sat and pushed my blankets off. The man stepped back as I stood. The tip of his sword dropped toward the ground, easing the iron vise of panic clamped around my heart. I released a shaky breath.
His shirt and pants were speckled with a variety of grays, black and white. His hood and mask matched the fabric of his clothes. Brilliant blue eyes stared back at me.
A laugh drew my attention to the right. Zitora was before three people who also wore gray camouflage. They pointed their swords at her. Interesting, she didn’t look so sweet now. Red splotches spread on her cheeks. Anger or fear, I couldn’t tell.
“This is it?” the man standing closest to Zitora asked in amazement. “The Council sends two students to help the Stormdance Clan? This is too good to be true!” He cackled. “What are you…seniors? No. Don’t tell me…you’re a novice.” He pointed his blade at me. “And you’re a senior.” The blade swung back to Zitora.
I had slept in my cloak and the weight of my sais underneath the garment pulled at my waist. She had insisted I stay armed at all times. Her sword rested on the ground nearby. I could reach through the slits in my cloak and draw my weapons.
I sought a signal from Zitora. Her pointed expression warned me to wait.
“What do you want?” Zitora asked.
“To stop you from helping the Stormdancers, but now I’m thinking of letting you go. You’ll probably do more harm than good.” The leader cackled again. His laugh grated on my nerves as if he gargled broken glass.
The man who woke me grabbed my hand. He showed my burn scars to the leader. “She is a glassmaker. We must stick to the plan.” Blue Eyes released my arm.
“Aww. I can’t kill two little girls,” the leader said.
The word kill caused a hot flush of fear to race through me.
“This one’s a magician,” a woman said, gesturing at Zitora.
“Is she too strong for you?” the leader mocked.
The woman stiffened. “We have her firmly in our control.” She glanced at the person next to her.
Through the haze of fear in my mind, I realized Zitora hadn’t moved more than her mouth since I woke.
“And here we were all ready for a big fight,” the leader said. “Brought the magicians, the muscle, the swordsman, expecting guards and Keep-trained magicians. Overkill for sure!” He laughed at his own joke.
Sweat rolled down my back at hearing kill again.
“Why do you want to stop us from helping the Stormdancers?” Zitora asked.
Anger reddened the leader’s ears. “We want them to—”
“Shut up,” Blue Eyes said. “The less said, the better. Finish the mission before we are discovered.”
Perhaps the cackler wasn’t the leader. An intelligent intensity radiated from Blue Eyes.
“We can take them along,” suggested the woman. “Ransom them.”
“No,” I said with force. My vehement outburst surprised me as much as our attackers. I would rather die than be a kidnap victim again.
“Last chance to tell us why you’re here,” Zitora said. Authority laced her tone.
Snickers answered her. Only Blue Eyes considered her words. His grip tightened on his sword.
“The benefit of appearing so young is I’m constantly underestimated.” Zitora raised her arms, warning me she would use her magic.
Breathing became difficult and fear stabbed my heart. Action would soon be needed. Could I fight or would I be too terrified to move?
This time the laughter didn’t sound. The magician gestured with alarm.
“Now,” Zitora ordered.
I yanked my sais from their holders as Blue Eyes lunged. With no time to think, I stepped in front of Zitora to protect her, blocking his sword. The ring of metal sounded as the strike vibrated through my arm.
He froze in place. The others rushed us, but when they reached Blue Eyes’ side, they were immobilized, as well, coming no closer to us.
“That was fun.” Strain vibrated in Zitora’s words as sweat beaded on her forehead.
“What? It’s over?” My body pumped with the need for action. I glanced between her and our attackers.
A tight grin flashed. “Perhaps being approachable isn’t so bad.”
“Do you have them all?” I asked.
“Yep, but now what?” She considered. “I can’t hold them long.”
To take control of four people’s bodies required a great deal of skill and power. Zitora trembled with the effort. Her strength impressed me. I knew it shouldn’t. She was Second Magician, after all. And Zitora’s best ability was being able to wrap magic around a person, keeping them immobile. Yet seeing her in action enlightened me.
“Opal…fetch the darts.” She huffed. “And vial…from my saddlebags.”
I rushed to comply and soon returned with four darts and a small bottle.
“Dip them…do you know?”
“It’s Curare.” The words croaked out. I swallowed what felt like a lump of sand. Curare was a powerful drug. It paralyzed the muscles in a person’s body for a full day and blocked the ability to use magic.
I shuddered, remembering when I had been forced to prick Yelena with the drug. My guilt flared, even though Yelena never blamed me, and she even admired the trick my kidnapper had used. I wish I could say the same for my Keep colleagues.
You can’t let the past ruin your future, I chanted over in my mind. Yelena’s words made perfect sense, yet I couldn’t force my heart to believe them.
She gestured to the ambushers. I understood and treated each dart with the drug then jabbed each attacker in the arm. After waiting ten seconds, Zitora relaxed. She lowered her arms and the four bandits slumped to the ground.
Appearing as if her bones had melted, she dropped down to a sitting position. Her energy gone. I retrieved her water flask and a few baka leaves, handing them to her.
“Thanks.” She chewed for a while, lost in thought.
The leaves revived her somewhat, but she remained sitting. Minutes passed. I fidgeted and wondered if I should put my weapons away.
Instead, I checked the horses and fed them. My hands trembled and I blamed the heavy feed bags for the shaking. Quartz rubbed her face on my arm in a comforting gesture.
Eventually Zitora joined me. She hunched over and moved as if afraid of falling. “We should go.”
“What about them?” I asked.
She smiled. “And here they were, all prepared for a fight. No time to properly interrogate them.” She rummaged in her saddlebags, uncovered the glass unicorn I had made for her and rested it in the palm of her hand.
The core glowed with an inner fire as it sang to me. The vibrations from its tune hummed deep within my soul. It brightened and quieted when Zitora stared at the unicorn, communicating with another magician. What did Master Bloodgood call them? Glass messengers? Interesting.
Finally she said, “Irys will contact the magician stationed in Thunder Valley. He’ll inform the Stormdance’s soldiers. They’ll send a cleanup crew. Irys wasn’t happy about the attack. She plans to personally interrogate them when they’re in custody.”
Considering they were going to kill us, they deserved to be interviewed by Master Jewelrose. The morning’s events filtered through my mind and snagged on one question. “Zitora, why did you let them ambush us? You had to know they were coming. Right?”
A hint of mischievousness sparked in her tired eyes. “I knew. I wanted to see what they were after. My mind reading skills are limited. I knew they intended to accost us, but not why. And I can’t hold them physically and examine them mentally. That’s beyond my powers. Irys could do both, but probably not to all four.” She considered. “A calculated risk, but it worked.”
“No thanks to me,” I murmured.
“Did another block that sword thrust? Funny, I didn’t see him. Guess I was too busy using magic to notice.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you. You’re ruining my image of you as the sweet Master.”
“Good. Now go take the masks off and examine our attackers’ faces.”
“Why?”
“In case they escape. You’ll be able to identify them.”
“They could escape?” An alarming thought.
“Nothing’s impossible, Opal. You should know that by now.”
True. I thought about how Yelena had managed to escape after being paralyzed with Curare, a seemingly impossible situation. So why hadn’t I been able to escape the same woman? Twelve days she held me, but I wasn’t Yelena. Not as smart or as brave. By the end of my ordeal, I had been willing to do anything for Alea. Even pricking Yelena with Curare. Although I wondered, if faced with the same situation now, would I react the same? Did being older and wiser make me braver?
Painful memories threatened to overwhelm me. I bit my lip and focused on the task at hand, identifying our attackers. I pulled their masks off one by one revealing three men and one woman. I studied their features, committing them to memory, sculpting their profiles in my mind. I wondered if I could fashion glass statues to resemble people instead of animals. An interesting and appealing prospect that would have to wait until we returned home.
Blue Eyes stared at me with cold calculation. Long strands of black hair had sprung from his single braid. I stayed out of reach even though I knew he couldn’t move. The drug only allowed a person to breathe, swallow and hear.
Clean shaven. No wrinkles lined his ginger-colored skin. I guessed he was in his early twenties. My attention kept returning to his diamond-shaped eyes fringed with thick lashes. I forced myself to search for distinctive features. He had a strong nose and an inch-long scar on his throat below his left ear.
When I returned to Zitora and the horses, my back stung as if Blue Eyes had the power to burn a hole right through my cloak and skin.
“Should we wait for the guards?” I asked Zitora when she mounted Sudi.
“No time. Don’t worry, they’re not going anywhere.”
“What about predators?” A strange prickle crawled along my spine. It felt as if Blue Eyes’ gaze had transformed into a spider clinging to the skin on my back, and that no matter how far I traveled, I wouldn’t be able to lose the spider.
“If I loop a protective net around them, will you feel better?”
“Yes.”
She guided her horse closer to the prone forms. Her brow creased and I guessed she pulled a thread of magic from the power source blanketing the world. Only magicians could tap into this power. When I worked with molten glass, I could draw magic from the source, but couldn’t replicate the action without being in “glass mode.”
I ignored the spike of envy. Zitora looped a protective strand around the paralyzed people and then connected it back to the power source so it remained in place. Or, at least, that was what she told me she had done. My awareness of magic was only through the glass. I couldn’t see or touch or smell it.
The protection would guide an animal past the site without incident, but a human would break the net.
“What happens if one of the Stormdance Clan members stumbles on them? Or worse, if one of their colleagues is waiting for us to leave to help them?” I asked.
“No one lives on The Flats. And I can’t sense anyone nearby. What is really worrying you?”
I couldn’t pinpoint the reason for my unease.
“Perhaps you’re still upset over the attack.”
“Perhaps.”
But as we rode away, the spider of doubt burrowed deep under my skin. If I chased my thoughts to the depths of my memories, I might match the anxious feeling to the incident over four years ago when I helped Yelena capture those malevolent souls. Match it to the fact that I heard their voices calling to me in my dreams from time to time.
Which is why I wouldn’t contemplate those feelings— pure imagination on my part. I hoped.
Chapter 4
I DISMISSED THE whole crazy notion of hearing the voices of the dead and concentrated on keeping up with Zitora. Galloping over the hard shale ground increased the jolting through my body. I clung to Quartz’s mane to keep from bouncing off her saddle.
By the time we reached the coast the next morning, I couldn’t get off Quartz fast enough. We stopped where The Flats transformed into The Cliffs—a sheer drop-off to the sand below. The sea sparkled as if a million diamonds floated on the surface. It spread before me in all its glorious blue-green waters. White foam capped the waves and fingers of rocks pointed to the horizon. The moist breeze fanned me, smelling of salt.
Creeping to the edge, I glanced down and sank to my knees. I had never been this high before. Five times the height of the Master Magician’s tower; I guessed the distance spanned a hundred and fifty feet.
Zitora joined me.
“Where are the Stormdancers?” I asked. No life stirred on The Flats and only seabirds circled below. “I don’t see any signs of them.”
“Farther south. This is the only smooth part of The Cliffs.” She pointed to the left. “And it’s where the trail starts.”
A narrow ledge of shale jutted from the edge of The Cliffs. A pregnant mare wouldn’t fit on it. I eyed Quartz’s middle. My leg would probably dangle over nothing.
“You’re not afraid of heights are you?” Zitora asked.
“I guess I’m about to find out.”
“We’ll walk the horses down.”
“Good idea.”
“Just follow me and keep your eyes on Sudi.” Zitora squeezed my shoulder.
During the first hour of our descent, I wasn’t sure if I led Quartz down or if she guided me. My legs tended to freeze in place whenever I contemplated the thin ribbon of ground under my feet, and my breath came in short huffs whenever I caught sight of the rocks gleaming below.
The pungent scent of salt and fish dominated my senses. And the constant shushing of the waves filled my ears. Eventually, the soothing rise and fall of the water calmed my breathing, but the occasional harsh cry of a seagull would jolt a gasp from me.
Once we descended into the twisting network of the wind-sculpted cliffs, my fears disappeared. The Stormdance Clan had carved the trail through ripples of shale. Stunning wings of rock reached out to the sea and between these wings were caves and grooves.
Lower down on the cliff, the water added its own artistic touch, carving deep caverns and wearing away enough rock to leave bridges and chimneys behind.
According to Zitora, the Stormdancers lived in the caves closer to the sand. The higher ones were all empty. The lower ones had wood and cloth screens pulled across the entrances. Probably for privacy. When we finally arrived at the base of The Cliffs, the sun shone directly overhead—midafternoon. In a large cavern, we found a small group sitting around a fire.
Before going inside, I glanced up. This time, the sheer beauty and height of The Cliffs pressed down on me.
“Opal, give Quartz’s reins to Tal, he’ll take care of her,” Zitora said.
A young man with skin the color of coal dust flashed me a shy smile. Tal led both horses along the sand.
“Where are they going?” I asked.
Another man had joined us. Around forty years old, he appeared to be about twenty years older than Tal. “We have temporary stables set up past the outcropping.” He pointed. The sun had tanned his skin to a warm brown and his short black hair was peppered with flecks of gold. “If a storm comes, we can move them into the higher caves for protection.” He smiled, showing the reason for the wrinkles.
“I should go help unsaddle—”
“Don’t worry. Tal will take care of them. We don’t get many horses here, but Tal knows what to do. Come inside, we have much to discuss.”
I followed Zitora and the man. With Tal gone, only four others waited by the fire. The man introduced us to them. Nodin and Varun were brothers and, along with their sister, Indra, the three of them made the special glass orbs. The fourth, Kade, was a Stormdancer.
By their solemn and dire expressions, they didn’t appear happy to see us. The man—Raiden—was the camp manager.
“I sent the others back to the village,” Raiden said. “No sense having everyone here if we can’t dance. I hope you can help us out, Opal.”
“I don’t see how,” Kade said. He threw a stick into the fire and stood. “She’s younger than Tal.” He stalked out.
The silence thickened until Raiden sighed. “Bad times, but we’ve been through worse. I sent for an expert and here you are. I trust the Council and Master Cowan.” His round face and kind brown eyes radiated hope.
I knew I was supposed to respond with a comment about being the right person for the job, but I tended to agree with Kade. At least Raiden used Zitora’s title.
“Tell us what’s been happening,” Zitora said.
Raiden explained about the orbs shattering. “…when the energy is captured inside, the Stormdancer seals the orb with a rubber stopper and we transport the orb to one of our factories. But with these new orbs, as soon as they are sealed the energy bursts through them, sending shards of glass out with killer speed. We lost two Stormdancers.”
The three glassblowers seemed to sink down into themselves. Their guilt and pain piercing them as lethally as the glass debris had penetrated the Stormdancers.
“What is different with these orbs?” Zitora asked.
“Nothing!” Roused from his misery, Nodin jumped to his feet. “We’ve been following Father’s methods exactly. Same recipe. Same temperature. Same equipment.”
“How do you make them?” she asked.
Nodin began a lecture on glassmaking. I stopped him after a few sentences.
“Better to show me exactly what your father did to make the orbs,” I said.
They led me outside and up the trail.
“We make all the orbs before the two stormy seasons,” Nodin explained.
Out in the sunlight, the tight curls of his short black hair shone. The three siblings all had the same color of hair. Indra had pulled her shoulder-length curls into a ponytail and Varun had twisted his longer hair into rows of braids tight against his head.
“We’ll have to relight the fire,” Varun said.
“You let it go out?” I asked in amazement. Getting the kiln heated to the proper temperature could take days.
“We finished the orbs for the cooling season storms,” Indra snapped. “We were in the process of shutting it down until next year.”
“Is there another kiln nearby?” I asked.
Varun barked out a short laugh. “No. Nothing is nearby. We bring all our supplies when we arrive for the storm season.”
“We’re wasting time.” Indra glanced out to sea. Her brothers copied her. They seemed to be scenting the wind, judging the air. “Not much time left before the big storms hit. Our expert wants to see how we make the orbs. Let’s get to work.”
The kiln was housed in a large cave tucked behind a shale wall, protected from the wind and high water. A chimney had been drilled through the ceiling to vent the heat and smoke.
The glassmakers moved as one, reminding me of my family. While the brothers shoveled white coal, Indra gathered driftwood from a stack. Wood was easier to light than coal, but once a hot fire burned, more coal would be added.
Indra’s little jab at me hurt, but I didn’t want to stand there and do nothing. “Can I help?” I asked her.
I translated her grunt for assent. I collected wood. When we had a pile, the brothers made a lattice of branches. Nodin pulled out flint. Interesting how none of the three could light the fire with magic. I couldn’t, either, but I had assumed a Stormdancer could. I glanced around. Kade wasn’t in sight.
Zitora, though, hovered nearby with Raiden. She halted Nodin’s efforts. With the smallest of frowns, she lit the branches. When she looked away, the fire died down to a respectable burn.
“Can you keep the fire hot?” I asked her.
“How long?”
“Long enough for the coals to ignite?”
She nodded and once again the flames intensified.
A purse of appreciation settled on Nodin’s lips. “One benefit to having a Master Magician around.”
“And she’s good in a fight, too.” I winked at her.
“Time to add the sand,” Indra said.
The sand, soda ash and lime had been premixed and loaded onto a wheeled cart which had been parked in the back of the cave. Indra held a large metal bowl and a trowel. She paused before filling it. “How much?” she asked.
“Enough for two orbs,” I said.
She scooped sand. I grabbed a fistful of the mixture and carried it into the sunlight. Once there, I let the grains fall through my fingers, inspecting them as they fell. Yellow and brown grains, large and coarse were mixed with small white grains. A number of red-tinted particles and a few black specks peppered the mix.
“Our family’s secret recipe,” Varun said as he joined me on the ledge.
I considered. “Forty percent local sand, forty percent from the Krystal Clan’s sand quarry, fifteen percent from the Bloodgood Clan’s red beach and five percent lava flakes.”
He opened his mouth in astonishment. Closed it. Then stuttered, “That’s…that’s… There’s no way… Who told you?” Suspicion tainted his voice.
“The mixture.” He didn’t brighten with understanding. I asked him, “What other glasswares do you manufacture?”
“None. Our sole job is to make the orbs and protect the recipe. Only my family and the lead Stormdancer know the percentages.” He clutched my arm. “You’re the first to figure it out. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry.” I gently pried his hands off. “I won’t. I know how important it is. Growing up in a glass factory, my family made many different types of glasswares from drinking glasses to fancy bowls and custom vases. My father has hundreds of sand recipes for various colored glass, as well as glass with assorted qualities and clarities. Father delights in bringing home a new mix and making us guess the composition.” I smiled at the memory. Most fathers brought presents home for their children. Mine brought sand. My smile grew wider as I realized how excited my sisters and I had been when Father’s wagon was spotted in town, returning with a new batch of sand.
I brushed the sand from my fingers.
Varun gazed at me with frank curiosity. But before he could voice his question, Nodin joined us. “The coals are heating. We should have melt by dawn.”
Zitora’s magic had accelerated the process by a full day.
“Until then, let me show you the orbs we’ve made,” Nodin said.
I followed him along the cliff trail to a small cave high above the beach. We crouched down to step inside.
“Another protected cave. The wind doesn’t blow in here and the water never reaches this high.”
I peered over the edge. “How high does the water get?”
Nodin grinned. “Depends on the storm. The stronger the wind, the higher the water.”
He shuffled to the back of the cave and returned with a glass orb. He handed it to me. The sphere weighed as much as a healthy newborn baby. The orb had a small lip and opening, making the sphere resemble a fat coin purse.
“When the rubber stopper is inserted, it seals the energy inside,” Nodin explained.
“How do you release the energy without hurting anybody?”
He picked up a stopper. “There is a hole that goes about halfway through. See?” He poked a finger up to his knuckle in the one end. “A glass tube is inserted in this end and, when in place, a small hole is made that goes all the way through the rubber. The energy flows through the tube and into the machinery.”
I brought the orb closer to the sunlight and stroked the glass with my fingers. Smooth and translucent, the orb had a purple iridescent film on the outside as if it had been dipped in soap. As wide as the length of my forearm, it had no seams; the glass was blown into this shape. No bubbles or other flaws marked its surface.
It sat inert in my hands. No glow. No singing. No magic.
“Why glass?” I asked Nodin. “Why not metal or silver to contain the storm’s energy?”
“Only glass will work. I don’t know why.” Sadness blanketed his face. “Now even the glass won’t work.”
“Do you have one of the old orbs?”
Nodin stared at me as if deciding what he should tell me. Finally he said, “Kade keeps one in his sleeping quarters.” He scooted closer to the edge and hung his legs over. “It’s one of the smaller orbs. And it’s…full.” He swung his feet and looked down at the beach.
“So if the orb breaks…”
“Exactly.” Nodin spread his hands wide. “It would kill anyone standing or sleeping within ten feet.”
“Why keep it?”
“Don’t know. It’s a suicide waiting to happen.” He gestured to the sea. A single figure stood at the end of a rocky outcrop.
“Or it could be a strong desire for privacy.”
Nodin laughed. “It does guarantee him his own cave.”
We sat for a while in silence. Each contemplating our own thoughts.
“I’ll need to examine Kade’s orb,” I said.
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“Me? I thought…”
His brown eyes sparked with glee. “Yes, you. I’m beginning to like you, Opal. But not that much.” He grabbed the sphere and returned it to the back of the cave. “If you want to see Kade’s orb before dark, you better hurry. Once the sun dips below the sea, it turns black fast.”
I followed Nodin down to the beach. The sun hovered near the edge of the horizon, casting shadows along the water’s rippled surface.
“Good luck.” Nodin waved.
I wondered if Zitora should be the person to ask Kade about his orb. The Stormdancer didn’t have a lot of confidence in me. I tended to agree with him, but I knew I would try to discover the problem. It was too important and I wouldn’t feel right unless I made the effort.
The wind whipped hair into my eyes when I stepped out onto the black rocks. I pulled the leather tie from my messy ponytail and tried to recapture all the strands into a neater knot. Funny how I hadn’t noticed the wind on the beach. Calling to Kade had proven futile. My shouts drowned by the sea’s song.
I hadn’t noticed how uneven and jagged the rocks were, either. Waves crashed into them, sending spray high into the air. Water soon coated my skin and soaked my clothes. The rocks became slicker with each wave. I was glad I wore my brown boots, even though they filled with water; their thick soles helped me navigate the slippery and rutted outcrop. At one point I climbed over a few sharp boulders, and at another I leaped over a gap. The tight knocking of my heart warned my body to turn around and go back to the beach, but I was determined. Stupid?
No. Determined. Until I reached a space too big to cross. Too big for me. Kade was three rocks farther out. Each separated by a large opening. Had he swam or jumped? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was he heard my shout.
He spun around. And I wished I had waited on the beach. With an angry scowl, Kade moved. I would have marveled at his speed and grace as he flew over the gaps, except he aimed toward me.
An errant wave knocked into me and I grabbed a rough edge to keep from falling. Pain laced my palm and blood welled.
Kade stopped before spanning the space between our rocks. His mouth moved, but the wind snatched half of his words.
“…idiot…dangerous…go back!”
I understood his intent and turned to retrace my steps. The waves grew in size and frequency. They hunted me, attacking when I was vulnerable.
“Opal,” shouted Kade.
I looked back in time to see a giant blue-green wall of water rushing toward me.
The roar of the wind and sea ceased the moment the monster wave engulfed me. For one heartbeat, my world filled with gurgling sounds and foamy green light. Then the force of the crashing water slammed me into an unyielding object. The sea grabbed my limp body and tossed it about. Confusion dulled the pain until my forehead smacked into a jagged rock.
My vision clouded with blood and saltwater. Kade and the outcrop grew smaller as the sea sucked me into her liquid embrace.
Chapter 5
I TRIED TO SWIM. But each wave pushed me under and my waterlogged pants and boots dragged me down. I managed a few panicked gulps of air before the saltwater closed my throat.
A sense of inevitability pervaded my body and I relaxed. The underwater half-light was a beautiful canvas for my memories. My sister Tula arrived to welcome me into the sky. I was surrounded by warmth and love.
She frowned at me. “Silly girl. Take a breath. You’re surrounded by air.”
I opened my mouth to argue and coughed out a lungful of water. My stomach heaved with the effort to expel the salty liquid. Once I regained my composure, I froze in amazement. I sat in the middle of a bubble of air. The blue- green walls appeared as solid as glass, but moved like water.
Eventually my bubble floated to the surface of the sea. I bobbed in the waves, staying dry as land drew closer. Kade still stood on the rocks, but his eyes were closed and he held his arms straight out to the sides.
Once I reached the shallow water, my bubble popped. I splashed back into the cold sea. The waves pushed as I crawled from the water and collapsed onto the sand. Soon voices wormed through my water-filled ears. A crowd had gathered.
My sodden state was met with a mixture of emotions. Zitora was concerned and fluttered around me like a mother. The glassmakers smirked and tried to conceal their laughter. Raiden tsked and muttered under his breath about stupidity. Tal helped me to my feet and stayed beside me.
“What made you go out there?” Zitora asked.
“I wanted to talk to Kade. Nodin said I should go before dark.”
A burst of chuckles escaped from the siblings. Raiden scowled at them. “Opal, you shouldn’t have listened to him. He was fooling with you.”
“I didn’t know it would be so slick.” I shivered. The weak sun floated on the sea, painting a bright ribbon of red light along the waterline.
“You three stop laughing.” He scolded the glassmakers. “If Kade hadn’t seen her, she would have drowned. Then no one would want to help us!”
They sobered in an instant.
“Sorry,” Nodin muttered before they shuffled away to check on the kiln.
“Now you know to avoid climbing on the rocks.” Zitora smoothed my hair from my face and wiped sand off my cheek. “You’re bleeding.”
Her finger traced a line of fire across my forehead. She repeated the gesture and the pain disappeared.
“You’ll have a slight scar, but it could have been worse. You need to wash and change into dry clothes. There’s a freshwater pond behind the stables. Let me know if you have any other injuries.” Her eyes promised to question me further. Probably when we were alone. She left with Raiden to retrieve our saddlebags.
Tal lingered. He kicked the sand. He peered past my shoulder then back to me. “Before you talk to Kade about what was so important, make sure you thank him first.”
I glanced behind me. Kade reached the beach with a light hop. He walked toward us. “Thank him?”
“For saving your life.”
“Ahh… My bubble of air.”
“A Stormdancer power.” Bitterness warped Tal’s words. He turned and hurried away.
I wanted to chase after Tal, especially when Kade drew closer, but I waited for him. Cold fingers of air stroked my wet body, raising goose bumps on my skin.
His wet tunic and pants clung to his muscular frame, but at least his angry scowl had turned into tired annoyance.
I braced for his lecture.
Instead he gave me a wry smile. “Don’t know why I was mad,” he said. “I’ve fished out so many clan members I’ve lost count. And I’m sure you weren’t warned to stay off the rocks. Not that it would change anything. No matter how many times you warn a person, he still has to climb out there just to see for himself.”
He sighed and gazed out to the horizon. The sea had turned a slate gray.
“At least I won’t have to fish you out tomorrow. I can save my energy for the storm.”
“A storm’s coming?”
“Yep. Nasty one, too. That’s That’s why the waves are so greedy.”
He walked by, but I touched his arm. He jerked away as if stung.
“Thank you for fishing me out.”
He nodded and continued past.
“There was a reason I wanted to talk to you,” I said to his back.
He paused.
“I want to examine your orb.”
His shoulders stiffened. “Why?”
“To compare it to the new orbs.”
Kade made no reply as he strode away.
The simple state of being warm and dry felt wonderful. I wore tan-colored linen pants and a light orange tunic made of the same material. The nicest part of being a student at the Keep was being able to wear what we wanted on a daily basis. Formal occasions, though, either called for our official robes, or fancy dress.
In the main living cave, my brown leather boots steamed beside the campfire. I lounged as close to the heat as possible in a chair made of wood and canvas. The glassmakers, Tal, Raiden and Zitora ringed the fire, talking in low voices which echoed off the shale walls. Fish soup bubbled over the flames and my stomach growled loud enough for Zitora to pause and smile at me.
As we ate the tangy soup, Nodin and Indra discussed the kiln watch schedule and Zitora and Raiden talked about recent Council decisions. Each clan elected a member to represent them on the Sitian Council, which met at the Citadel. With the three Master Magicians, the Council consisted of fourteen members who decided on laws and policies for Sitia.
My father loved dissecting the Council’s decisions, but I never had much interest. Even now when I could have learned more about the Stormdance Clan’s internal policies, my mind wandered. Where was Kade? Didn’t he need to eat?
I eventually dozed in my chair.
“Opal.” Zitora woke me with a nudge. “Time for bed. Do you want to sleep down here near the fire or go to another cave?”
Confused, I glanced at Raiden.
“Some prefer their privacy. There are many places to sleep and a few have fire rings or coal stoves. Most of us just sleep here.”
I was used to sharing a room. First with my sisters, and then at the Keep. “Here’s fine. This way you can wake me when it’s my turn to watch the kiln’s fire.”
“You’re not on the schedule,” Nodin joked.
“I know. The three of you can shorten your shifts to two hours and I’ll take the last shift.”
Varun drew breath, but I said, “Don’t argue with the expert.”
“I assume you mean an expert at glass and not at swimming?” Tal teased.
I remembered Kade’s comments on the beach. “So, your superior attitude comes from having never been fished out?”
Indra laughed and flicked her long ponytail. “He’s been fished out countless times.”
Tal shot to his feet and scowled down at her.
“Now he’s going to run outside and pout,” Indra said. “You have to learn how to laugh at yourself, Tal.”
“I’m going to sleep in the stables. The horses smell better than you.” Tal stalked from the cave.
Indra sighed. “I’m surrounded by boys,” she grumped to herself. “I’m glad I have my own cave. I enjoy my privacy after dealing with these children all day. I’m going to bed.” She made a dramatic exit.
We folded the chairs and stacked them against the back wall. Raiden handed me a cot and helped to set it up.
“We do have a few comforts,” he said. “No sense sleeping on the cold hard ground.”
Within seconds of getting comfortable, I fell asleep. The wind whistled in my dreams as I ran from the waves. The sand sucked at my feet and hindered my movements before melting under me. I slogged through thick molten glass as a huge wave grew behind me. Riding on top of the wave was Blue Eyes. He beckoned to me. His voice echoed in my chest. “Finish the job.”
I woke with a start. Nodin shook my shoulder. White ash clung to the ringlets in his hair.
“Must have been some nightmare,” he said.
I shuddered. “You have no idea.”
A haunted expression gripped him. “I know all about nightmares.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” He straightened. “It’s your shift.”
Nodin stole my cot as soon as I vacated it. He was probably asleep by the time I left the cave.
The cold drove out the last vestiges of sleep from my mind. I glanced at the sky. No stars. No moon. A heavy presence pushed down from above, adding to the moisture in the air. Probably clouds filled with rain, although I couldn’t smell anything besides the salty air.
The sea moved like a living being. Its chest rose and fell; waves crashed and drew back as it breathed, the rough surf a testament to its displeasure.
Protected by the wind, the kiln’s fire burned hot. I poked the sand mixture inside with a rod. It needed a few more hours to melt into the required consistency. I added a handful of coals to the fire.
Now what? I hiked down to the beach and checked on the horses. Quartz nickered in greeting. The small stables had been constructed from bamboo stalks lashed together. The three stalls smelled clean and the walls protected the horses from the wind. Tal snored in an empty bay. His long arms hung off the edge of his cot.
I returned to the kiln’s cave. The fire warmed me and its familiar roar masked the alien sounds from the sea. I squirmed into a comfortable position at the entrance and rested my back against the wall. The perfect spot to see both the sea and the kiln.
It wasn’t long before a weak light diluted the black sky to a charcoal gray, which weakened into a drab gray. Clouds boiled on the horizon. The water underneath the sky churned the color of a two-day-old bruise. I stepped closer to the edge of the cave. Lightning snaked from the clouds followed by the rumble of thunder. It would be a bleak day. Depressed, I huddled in my cloak as I descended the trail and walked onto the beach, thinking to feed the horses their morning grain.
A spark of joy touched my soul. Startled, I looked around for Zitora. Had she uncovered her glass unicorn? Instead Kade strode toward me, holding a ball of fire.
As he drew closer, the song in my heart expanded. It buzzed along my skin, vibrated in my blood. He stopped and held out the sphere to me. His orb.
I grasped the ball. Energy sizzled and popped up my arms and down my spine. Light swirled inside, changing colors at an amazing speed. The sweet harmony of pure magic sang in my ears. Overwhelmed, I sank to the sand and cradled the orb in my lap.
Kade knelt next to me. “What’s the matter?”
“It…” Words to describe it died in my throat.
“What?” he prompted.
“It calls…no, sings to me. Silly, I know.”
“Not silly at all. It sings to me, too.” His gaze met mine.
It was the first time I had a chance to see him in the daylight. His amber-colored eyes held flecks of gold. Even though he radiated the air of someone much older, he had to be close to Zitora’s age. Straight hair fell to his shoulders, but the color reminded me of the sand from the Jewelrose Clan—a mixture of golds, browns and reds. Small droplets of mist clung to his long eyelashes, thin mustache and anchor-shaped goatee underneath his bottom lip.
“Full orbs sing to Stormdancers, but I’ve never heard it call to anyone else.” Kade touched the orb. “Is it the energy inside or the glass that sings to you?”
I concentrated on the sphere, running my fingers along the surface. It was smaller than the one Nodin showed me. About eight inches wide it was the size of a cantaloupe. I ignored the swirling light and focused on the glass.
No marks. No flaws. Thick glass. Thicker than the empty spheres? No. Denser. The glass had absorbed the magic used to trap the storm’s energy. The vibrations felt different, so I thought magic hadn’t been used to form the glass.
“Have any of these orbs shattered?” I asked.
“A few over the years.”
“Do you know why?”
“Young fools trying to stuff too much energy into one sphere. Or they can shatter when a Stormdancer loses control of the waves and wind around him.” Chagrin tainted his voice. “In that case, the sphere is dashed to pieces on the rocks and if the Stormdancer is lucky, he’ll be rescued before his head meets the same fate.”
“Talking from experience?”
“Unfortunately. It’s a hard skill to learn, keeping a bubble of calm around you while the storm rages.”
“Kade! What are you doing?” Raiden’s voice called. He and the others stopped about twenty feet from us.
Kade stood. “She wanted to see the orb.”
“Are you crazy? What if she drops it? You both could be killed.”
I gained my feet and scanned their faces. They truly didn’t know. Not a clue among them. Even the glassmakers.
I dropped the orb.
Chapter 6
THE ORB BOUNCED on the sand and rolled a few feet. Horrified cries filled the air until the onlookers realized the orb hadn’t shattered.
Kade blanched, but he hadn’t thrown his hands up in protection as Tal and Varun had done.
“Heck of a demonstration. Did you know it wouldn’t break or are you just suicidal?” Kade asked with a touch of sarcasm.
“Glass is an amazing material. Versatile, malleable and very strong.”
“But not indestructible.”
“No. I wouldn’t spike it on the hard ground, but no need to handle it like a delicate seashell.”
“Point taken.” Kade retrieved the orb.
“Nodin, can you get me one of your new orbs?”
“Sure.” Nodin’s voice sounded thin as if he had forgotten to breathe. He hurried away.
Zitora looked thoughtful and I wondered if she would reprimand me later. I wasn’t quite sure what had come over me. Perhaps it was in response to their reaction.
Nodin returned with an empty sphere. I flung it hard to the sand. Again everyone flinched. This time the orb cracked into three large pieces. I picked up a shard and examined the inside of the glass.
I wiped the sand from my hands. “Is the melt ready?”
Varun nodded.
“Okay. Let’s see how you make one of these.”
The entire group hiked up to the kiln’s cave to watch as the siblings worked in perfect unison. As the oldest, Indra sat at the gaffer’s bench while Nodin gathered the molten glass on the end of a blowing pipe and placed it in the holders on the bench. Varun handed tools to his sister as she worked.
During the process, Indra blew through the pipe and the ball expanded. Moving with a practiced quickness, Indra shaped the sphere. After multiple reheatings and blowings, she increased the size. When she was satisfied with the roundness, she signaled Nodin. He gathered a small dollop of melt onto the end of a pontil iron, making a punty. Attaching the punty onto the end of the sphere, Indra then dipped her tweezers into the bucket and dripped water onto the end of the blowpipe.
Cracks webbed and, with a hard tap of the tweezers, the glass sphere cracked off the pipe and was now held by the pontil iron. Nodin inserted the sphere back into the kiln to soften the glass. Indra expanded the little hole left by cracking off the pipe, and formed the sphere’s lip.
The piece was soon done and into the annealing oven. They did nothing wrong while crafting the piece. No actions that rendered it flawed. No magic, either.
“Make another one, but this time I want to blow into the pipe,” I said.
When Indra nodded to me, I bent, pursed my lips and blew through the pipe. Power from the source and not air from my lungs flowed through me and into the orb. It didn’t expand. The sphere stayed a fist-sized ball. Indra finished the piece and cracked it off into a heat resistant box.
“That didn’t work,” I said into the silence.
“But it glows,” Kade said. “You drew power.”
Except Zitora, everyone stared at my piece in confusion.
“Are you sure?” Nodin asked. “No offense, but it looks like a beginner’s effort.”
“I’ve trapped a thread of magic inside the ball,” I explained. “Only magicians can see the glow.”
“No.” Tal tensed and scowled. “That can’t be right. I can’t see the glow.”
“It’s been tested,” Zitora said. “And we’ve been using Opal’s glass animals to evaluate potential students for the Keep. If they can see the glow, we know they possess magical power.”
“No.” A stubborn line formed along Tal’s jaw. His eyes held fear.
“Tal.” Raiden placed a hand on the young man’s shoulders. “You tried to call the wind with no success. You’re past puberty—”
“No!” Tal shrugged Raiden’s hand off. “My father… My sister…”
“Strong Stormdancers, I know. Stormdancing is a rare gift, be thankful your sister—”
“I have it, too. It’s just…late. It’s just like the stubble on my chin, I don’t have enough power right now, but it’ll come. I know.” He left in a huff.
Raiden stared after him. We stood in an uncomfortable silence until an earsplitting crack of thunder announced the storm’s impending arrival. Donning thick leather gloves, Nodin picked up my orb and placed it into the annealer. Indra and Varun reorganized their tools.
Another rumble sounded. “The horses?” I asked.
“I’ll get them,” Raiden said. “Go down to the third level. That’s the storm cave where we keep all the necessary provisions.”
Zitora hurried to help Raiden.
I turned to go when Kade stopped me. He handed me his orb. The energy within it intensified. It pulsed and quivered, sending shooting pains along my arms.
“Keep it safe,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.” He gestured to the sea.
“Why? You don’t have an orb.”
“I can still bleed off energy from the storm.”
“To where?”
He huffed with impatience. “Into the rocks.”
Before I could question him further, Kade said, “Ask Raiden, he’ll explain it.” He jogged down the trail.
The sea heaved and thrashed around the rocks all but obscuring them. Foamy spray whipped through the air. Yet wherever Kade stepped, the water smoothed and his hair stayed in place, not even bothered by a faint breeze.
Zitora’s voice cut through the storm’s rage, calling me. I rushed to catch up to her as she led Sudi into a low cave. Although the horse ducked her head, it was a tight fit. The top of the opening scraped along Sudi’s back.
Once inside, the cavern’s ceiling rose to twelve feet. The area was roomy, with horse stalls near the back and torches blazing along the walls. Cots and chairs had been set up, Zitora helped start a fire, and Raiden filled a pot with water.
“You shouldn’t bring that in here,” Raiden said, pointing at the orb in my hands.
“It would take a lot more than dropping it on the ground to break,” I said.
“I know it takes a hard blow to shatter it, but I don’t want my people to start being careless with them. Every Stormdance Clan member knows to handle the orbs with the utmost care and I want to keep it that way. Would you want to risk losing a life?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “There is a reason for the fear.”
Chagrined, I said, “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“Next time, you might want to think before you act.”
Chastised, I stared at the floor.
“There is a reason for everything, Opal. You might not be able to figure it out, and time might have made us all forget it, but the reason is there all the same.” Raiden hung his pot over the fire. “Who’s hungry for clam stew?”
Raiden gave everyone who said, “me” a bucket of clams to open. I carried the orb to a safe spot in the back, setting it down on a pile of blankets. My hands and arms were numb from holding it. I covered it with another blanket to muffle its song. Between the roar of the storm and the trill of the orb, I would soon have a headache.
I checked on Quartz before returning to the fire. She munched her hay, appearing to be unconcerned about the weather. I scratched behind her left ear and she groaned in contentment.
When I sat down, Raiden handed me a dull knife and a handful of clams. I wouldn’t be allowed to partake in the meal without helping. I fumbled for a while, trying to pry open a shell. It didn’t take me long to find a rhythm, discovering another use for my strong hands.
Tal arrived soaking wet and sullen. He popped open a few clams without looking or speaking to anyone. The rest just ignored him.
Conversation focused on the orbs. I had been reluctant to state my theories before seeing how the glass was made, but when I examined the new orb in the firelight I felt more confident.
“Something is wrong with the mix,” I said, holding up my hand to stop the protest perched on Indra’s lips. “The recipe is right, but the sand, soda ash or lime isn’t.”
“What’s wrong with them?” Nodin asked.
“You could have gotten a bad batch.”
“Not helping.” Nodin tossed a clam into the pot.
“There is something in the mix that is causing the glass to be less dense. It can’t absorb the energy from the storm.”
“Which ingredient is deficient?” Indra asked.
“I don’t know. I could take samples of each to my father. He would be able to find out.”
“What do we do in the meantime?” Raiden asked. “The storms are only going to get worse.”
“Kade is dancing now. Why can’t you have all your Stormdancers bleeding off energy until we figure out what is wrong?”
Tal snorted with derision. “All he’s doing is taking a small stick out of a big fire.”
“It’s dangerous. No other Stormdancer would do it. There’s no reason for the risk.” Raiden nodded at me as if we shared a private joke.
“The almighty Kade likes to show off,” Tal grumbled. “Rub it in.”
“He has his own reasons.” Raiden stirred the stew.
After we had tossed the empty shells to the beach, Nodin asked about my magic. “Tell me again how it works.”
Zitora and I explained about the two uses of my pieces.
“I can use this new one when my unicorn is spent,” Zitora said.
“No.” The word sprang from my throat before logic could be applied. “I want to keep it to…to compare it to…my other works.” Weak explanation, I knew, but this orb hummed like Kade’s sphere and I was reluctant to give it away.
“How is this different?” Nodin asked.
“It has a different…call.”
“Call?” Nodin cocked an eyebrow, inviting enlightenment.
“Each of my glass pieces calls to me. I don’t hear it like sound. I feel it.” I tapped my chest. “Inside. Whenever one of my animals is close to me, I know which one it is and where it is even if I can’t see it.”
He whistled. “You could feel this before you fell into the water and hit your head on the rocks? Right?”
“Yes.”
“Because it makes more sense the other way.”
“Nodin,” Raiden warned. “That’s enough.”
We ate our stew in relative silence. The keening of the wind echoed in the cavern and errant gusts fanned the flames. Soon a fine sea mist coated everything in the cave.
I didn’t sleep well. My cot felt as if it bobbed on a wild sea and the wind infiltrated my dreams, moaning a name over and over in my mind. Laced with grief and loss, the wind’s cry filled my heart with sadness.
The storm passed by daybreak. Kade arrived. Exhaustion lined his face and his clothes dripped with seawater.
“Fall in?” Tal asked with barely concealed spite.
If Kade noticed, he didn’t show it. He nodded. “Lost my grip for a second and was blown into the water.”
Raiden shot Kade a horrified look.
“Luckily I managed to construct a bubble and climb back onto the rocks.” Kade squeezed the ends of his hair. Water rained to the floor.
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Raiden said. “Your powers have grown since—”
“Don’t say it,” Kade snapped.
Raiden frowned. “The storm almost killed you. You shouldn’t dance anymore.”
The Stormdancer lingered near the cave’s entrance. He peered out to the sea. “You’re right.”
Raiden covered his surprise by turning away to concentrate on breakfast. I guessed Kade didn’t agree with Raiden very often. Kade walked to the back of the cave to retrieve his orb. When the sphere was uncovered, I flinched with the sudden intensity of its song.
Tal narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t tell me you hear it.”
When I didn’t reply, he flew into a rage. “You can’t possibly hear it. You’re younger than me. And you’re not even a member of our clan.” He brushed past me, knocking me down.
“Raiden,” Indra said.
“I know.” The older man sighed. He helped me to my feet. “Sorry about that. Tal’s getting worse. I’ll send him home.”
“Wait,” Varun said. “He’s having a hard time adjusting. Before Opal’s device gave him proof, he still hoped he might develop magical powers. It’ll take a while for him to accept it. I’ll talk to him.”
“Fine. But tell him one more outburst and I’m sending him home for good.”
Varun agreed and followed Tal.
Raiden served the rest of us bowls of warm oatmeal. The thick mush had a fishy taste.
He laughed at my expression. “All our meals have fish in it. Cuts down on the amount of supplies we need.”
“Speaking of supplies,” Indra said. “What do we do about the glass ingredients?”
“Can you get a new batch?” Zitora asked.
“No. We stockpile the ingredients inland near Thunder Valley and bring only enough for each season. If one of the compounds is tainted, then the whole stockpile will be suspect,” Indra explained.
“How about ordering in fresh supplies?”
The glassmaker shook her head. “We wouldn’t get them in time. The special components in our mixture come from far away.”
“We really need to know which one is causing the problem,” Nodin said.
“Are the different components in separate stockpiles?” I asked.
“Yes. They’re mixed right before we leave.” He paced around the campfire, pulling at his tight curls. They sprang back as soon as he released one.
“Opal, you wanted to take samples to your father. Is there anyone else who is closer?” Zitora asked. “How about the Citadel’s glassmaker?”
“Aydan only works with one type of glass. My father really is the best one to ask. He has an extensive laboratory and experiments with sand while the other glassmakers find a mix they like and stay with the same recipe forever.”
“Can he come here?” Nodin stopped pacing. Hope touched his voice.
“He’ll need his lab. If it was an obvious substance, I would have seen it.”
“Is that why you ran them through your fingers?”
“Yes.”
“How long will it take?” Kade joined us by the fire. He had wrapped his orb in the blanket and cradled the bundle.
“Seven days one way if the weather is good. Then it depends on Opal’s father.” Zitora looked at me.
“A day. Maybe two.” I guessed.
“How long do you have before it’s too late?” Zitora asked Raiden.
“The storms are forming every four days now. In another three weeks, they’ll be coming every two days. Without Stormdancers and orbs, this cavern will be underwater until the middle of the cold season.”
“Let’s say nine days from now we have an answer. We can communicate through Opal’s glass animals and you can order a fresh batch.”
Indra stood. “That could work. We’ll need Opal back, though.”
Surprised, I asked why.
“To test the ingredients before they’re melted into glass. We can’t guess that the new supplies are pure. Plus we couldn’t tell the difference between the orbs. You’ll know if they’ll hold the storm’s energy.”
“But—”
Zitora cut me off. “What happens if it’s one of your special ingredients that are tainted?”
“We don’t dance,” Kade said. “People die.”
Kade’s words weighed heavy on my mind as we prepared to leave The Cliffs. Varun and Kade would accompany Zitora and me to their stockpile near Thunder Valley and remain there until they heard from us.
I gave my little ball to the Stormdancer so he could try to communicate with Zitora through the glass. She was on the beach with her unicorn and we were in his tiny sleeping cave decorated with a cot, a chair and a desk. Piles of books lined the back wall. A small coal stove rested near the entrance, but not too close to the wood and cloth privacy screen. Kade had stored the orb—still covered with the blanket—under his cot.
After I had glanced around his cave, Kade shrugged. “It suits me. When I spend all day in the wild vastness of sea and storms, it’s soothing to be surrounded by stone.” Kade settled on the cot, sitting cross-legged and peered into the glass.
A heartbeat later, he yelped in surprise and fumbled the ball. I suppressed a giggle, but couldn’t stop the smirk.
“I suppose the first time you heard a voice in your head you were unperturbed?” he asked in annoyance.
The smile dropped from my lips. “I don’t have the magical ability to hear thoughts.”
“I don’t, either, but Zitora does. As long as you have magic, you should be able to hear her.”
“I can’t.” I turned away before I could see his pity. The Masters could communicate with every magician in Sitia. Except me. Even people with only one trick could hear the Masters’ call. Except me.
“Since the test was a success, I’d better go help Zitora saddle the horses.” I ducked to leave.
“But you can hear the orb’s call,” Kade said to my back.
The orb’s song pierced my heart. I jerked, turning around. Kade had uncovered the sphere.
“What does it say to you?” he asked.
I concentrated. The orb’s song pulsed in time with the sea and hummed in tune with the wind. Among the melody moaned a name. The same name that haunted my dreams last night. “Kaya.”
Kade froze in horror. He stared at me with such intensity I stepped back.
“My sister’s name,” he said as if every word pained him. “You have a sister?” “Had. She died. Killed by one of the flawed orbs.”
Chapter 7
GRIEF WELLED IN Kade’s eyes. The obvious pain of his sister’s death still ripping his insides like a broken knife. I remembered the weeks after my sister Tula had died. The pain would only dull with time.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know—”
“You know nothing.” Kade spat the words out. “Please spare me the empty and banal responses of sympathy. They are meaningless.”
I wanted to correct him, but from his reaction I knew he wasn’t ready to hear it.
Kade grabbed my shoulders and dragged me close. “Did Raiden tell you her name? Hope that I would confess my woes to you?” He dug his fingers into my skin.
“No one told me. Let go. You’re hurting me.”
“Did Master Cowan pull the information from my head?”
I wished I had one of my sais so I could knock sense into him. “She would never intrude on your private thoughts. The orb told me. Let go now!” I brought my arms up between his and swept them out to the side, breaking his hold on my shoulders.
He stumbled back and I pushed him farther away with my foot. He landed on his cot. At least I had paid attention in self-defense class. Another skill learned from my four years at the Keep. Yippee for me.
“Do you have water in your ears? What part of ‘let go’ didn’t you understand?” I scolded, reverting into my really-annoyed-older-sister mode.
When anger flamed in Kade’s eyes, I realized I dealt with a grown man and Stormdancer. He could probably order the wind to suck me out of the cave and drop me onto the beach far below. Big difference from fighting with my younger brother, Ahir, whose only talent was to pester me to distraction.
“Opal,” Zitora called from below.
I glanced over the edge.
“We need to hurry. I want to reach The Flats by sunset.”
My thoughts lingered on Kade and his orb as I helped Zitora saddle the horses and pack the bags. Varun and Kade arrived with full backpacks and I tied their sleeping rolls onto the saddles. Since they didn’t have any horses, we would share mounts to Thunder Valley. I eyed Kade’s pack with trepidation. He had taken his orb and its muted voice reached me even through the leather.
Soon the whole Stormdance team milled around, waiting to say goodbye.
Raiden gave us a few instructions. “If you’re not back here in eighteen days, then don’t bother. We’re clearing out on day nineteen.”
“If the storm pattern changes, don’t hesitate to leave sooner. Just send me a message,” Kade said.
“Will do.” Raiden scanned the sky.
“We’ll keep the kiln hot,” Indra said.
After all the goodbyes and thank yous, we led the horses up The Cliffs. The ascent felt easier. Perhaps because I tended to look up instead of down.
We reached The Flats without any problems. As soon as we were rested, Zitora mounted Sudi. “Varun, you’ll ride with me. Kade, you’re with Opal.”
When no one moved, Zitora ordered, “Let’s go. I want to get in a few more miles before we stop for the night.”
I don’t know why I thought Zitora and I would share a mount, but it appeared the men had assumed the same thing. They glanced at each other. Varun shrugged. He shouldered his pack and swung up behind Zitora.
Quartz bumped my arm with her nose. If horses could laugh, I had the feeling she would be chuckling.
Kade grabbed Quartz’s reins. “Should I?” he asked.
“No. She’s my horse. I’ll take them.”
“Suit yourself.”
I hopped into the saddle and Kade settled in behind me. It was a tight fit. I tried not to think about his legs pressed against mine, and about where my backside was nestled. Strong arms wrapped around my waist. I was suddenly glad he couldn’t see my flushed face. His chest molded to my back and the orb’s song grew louder. Its energy vibrated in my heart.
I urged Quartz into a gallop, hoping to distract myself from the hot tingle pulsing through my blood.
We aimed toward the setting sun and kept going once the light disappeared. Zitora slowed our pace, allowing the horses to find a good path in the darkness.
Kade had remained quiet, but I felt him draw a breath. “When I asked you what the orb says to you, I meant just general feelings like happy, sad or angry. Stormdancers hear the storm’s personality in the orb. I wanted to see if it was the same for you.” A pause. “You surprised me with your answer.”
Was this an apology? I searched for a reply. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know that…now.”
We rode for a while without saying anything. Finally, I asked, “Storms have personalities?”
“Yes. There’re subtle differences in the storms. A few blow big and angry, others delight in their energy, some rage with malice, while others brood. Strange, I know.”
“Not strange to me. It’s similar to my glass animals. They all call to me in different ways. If I really thought about it, I could assign emotions to them like you do with the storms.”
He huffed. “I never would have thought storms and glass could have something in common.”
“But you put the storm’s energy into glass.”
“Before I met you, I thought glass was just a container. No personality. I didn’t realize what could be done with it.”
“What do you mean?”
A grunt of frustration. “It’s like paint.”
“Paint?”
“Yes, paint. I can dip a brush and smooth paint on a canvas, but all I end up with is a smear of paint. While another can use that same paint and create a masterpiece.”
“I would hardly call my animals masterpieces.”
“Can anyone else do it?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then they are truly unique and you should be proud of them.”
I squirmed at the thought. I was proud of what they could do, but Tula’s glass creations were crafted better. More life-like in detail and sought after by collectors, especially since there would be no more. A flare of grief burned in my throat. I swallowed it down and changed the subject.
“Why do you keep the orb?” I asked.
His grip on my waist tightened for a moment before he relaxed. “I was filling the orb when my sister died. Kaya worked on another outcrop two hundred feet away during a sullen storm. I knew the instant her orb shattered. By the time I reached her, she had lost too much blood.”
I wanted to express my regret, but, after what had happened in his cave, I kept quiet.
“I keep the orb because it…comforts me. I don’t expect you to understand, but it reminds me of Kaya. She could be sullen and moody, yet when she smiled, all was forgiven.”
I understood all too well. Siblings fight. They hate each other and love each other, and there are times when one emotion is a heartbeat away from the other.
“Perhaps that’s why the orb sings her name,” I said.
“Perhaps.” A long pause, then he whispered, “But I don’t hear her name.”
Zitora finally stopped when the moon reached its zenith. We made a fire from the driftwood we had packed. After sitting on the ground for a few minutes, I wished we had taken a couple chairs, too.
“We’ll have to buy fresh supplies,” Zitora said. “How far are your stockpiles from the market?”
“Not far. The market is an hour’s ride east,” Varun answered.
I thought about the location of their stockpiles. “How do you get the glass ingredients down to the beach?” I asked Varun. “Wagons won’t fit on The Cliff’s trail.”
“There is another way to the beach. If you head northwest through the Krystal Clan’s lands, there’s a wide slope down to the coast. Then you go straight south to reach The Cliffs. It’s the long way. When we’re in a hurry, we take the loads over The Flats and lower them with ropes. An unpleasant task.”
He launched into a story about losing a whole load of lime when a rope broke. “It looked like it snowed on The Cliffs” He chuckled. Then he added—with a touch of sourness— “Being the youngest, I was assigned the task of scraping lime off the rocks and picking out impurities before my father and sister could put it into the glass mix.”
“Why make the orbs on-site? Why not make them in Thunder Valley and transport them to The Cliffs?” I asked. “It would be easier.”
“I asked my father the same thing.” Varun squirmed into a more comfortable position. “He quoted me three reasons. Tradition, secrecy and convenience in case more orbs are needed during the storm seasons. Although having to wait twelve hours for an orb seems long to me.”
“Better than two days,” Kade said. “And it could be the difference between life and death.”
Varun and I talked for a while about glassmaking in general.
At one point, Varun shook his head. “I don’t feel the same…enthusiasm you do about working with glass,” he said. “To me, it’s a job to get done so I can go do other things.”
“You have time for other activities?” I asked.
“Sure. We work for four weeks making orbs, wait out each season just in case they need more, and then have the rest of the year to ourselves.” Varun picked up a stick and poked the fire. “Usually we work other jobs.” Poke. Sparks flew. “We don’t get enough money from crafting orbs to live.” He jabbed at the embers.
“You’re well paid for a half a season of work,” Kade said. His tone held a warning note.
Varun snorted, but said nothing.
Zitora broke the awkward silence with orders for everyone to get a few hours’ rest.
“A few?” Varun asked.
“Seventeen days left,” Zitora replied.
“What about setting a watch schedule?” I asked her.
“No need. I’ll know if anyone comes close.”
“Will you let them? I’d like a little notice if I’m going to wake up with a sword pointed at my throat again.” I shivered at the memory.
“Again?” Kade asked.
Zitora filled him in about the ambush.
“Does Raiden know?”
“Yes.”
“Isolated attack or can we expect more trouble?” Kade asked.
“We didn’t have time to find out. I’m hoping Master Jewelrose has interrogated them before we arrive in Thunder Valley. Do you know anyone who wants to keep you from dancing?”
Kade’s gaze grew distant. “The other clans have always complained about our using the storm’s energy to fuel our factories, saying it gives us an unfair advantage in producing cheaper goods. The Krystal and Moon Clans have been most vocal. They’ve even offered to buy full orbs from us, but there are just enough orbs for our factories. And some years are leaner than others. It all depends on how many storms we get and how strong they are.”
“Hopefully once we arrive at Thunder Valley, we’ll find out who wanted to stop us from helping you,” Zitora said.
“Then I’d better come to town with you,” Kade said. “We’ll drop Varun off at the stockpiles and I’ll walk back.”
“I get to babysit piles of sand while you’re in town.” Sarcasm dripped from Varun’s voice. “How exciting.”
Sleeping on the uneven shale ground proved difficult. I struggled to find a comfortable spot and managed only short snatches of sleep. And Kaya haunted my dreams. She beckoned to me, wanting my help, but I couldn’t reach her. She was encased in glass.
A shrill sound pierced my mind and I bolted into a sitting position. Kade sat with his orb cradled in his lap, staring into its depths, lost in another world. Zitora and Varun appeared to be asleep. The fire had burned down into a few glowing embers.
“Kade?”
He jerked as if startled, but didn’t look at me. “Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
Now he peered at me through the darkness. “Why not?”
“Your orb.” I gestured. “Your sister. You need to cover it.”
He returned his attention to the orb. “She was so stubborn. We had a couple of the old orbs left, but she insisted on using a new one despite the danger. Claimed Gian’s death was his own fault. Said he had been too ambitious and caused the orb to shatter. Called the old orbs brittle.”
I waited, sensing he had more to say.
“She was the strongest Stormdancer, and therefore in charge of us. She made the final decisions.” He smiled at a memory. “She was a year younger than me, but she bossed me around since we were toddlers.” He laughed. “My parents knew what they were doing when they named her. Kaya means ‘my older little sister.’”
“And I thought that bossy quality was reserved for annoying younger brothers,” I said. “Mine thinks he knows everything and will argue about it even when I prove him wrong.” Funny how I could miss having him around.
“I would have liked to have a brother, but all I had was Kaya. Do you have any other siblings?”
“Two older sisters, but—”
“Do they all work with glass?”
“Yes.”
“Do they have magical abilities?”
“So far, I’m the only one. Ahir has just reached puberty. The Keep magicians will test him when he visits me this year.”
“Kaya and I could both call the wind,” Kade said. “Very fortunate and very unusual, considering neither of my parents has that ability.”
“Who is the strongest Stormdancer now?”
“I am. Although I shouldn’t be. When Kaya died, my powers doubled.”
Our early-morning conversation woke Zitora. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Since you’re awake,” she said drily, “you can feed and saddle the horses.”
I was happy to oblige. Another minute on the hard shale ground and I would have a stiff back. Not pleasant, considering I had run out of Barbasco yams.
Kade helped with the horses while Zitora roused Varun. In no time we were on horseback, eating a cold breakfast of beef jerky. Yesterday’s awkwardness between Kade and me was gone, but my skin still tingled where our bodies touched.
Just past the edge of The Flats, we dropped Varun off at the stockpiles. Mounds of sand littered the clearing. Soda ash and lime had been heaped inside small buildings to protect them from the rain. A log building housed an office and modest living area. The building was used by the glassmakers before the season started to make sure the proper goods were delivered from the other clans.
We left Varun a few provisions and Kade promised to bring back more. I collected samples from each stockpile before we headed east.
We soon reached Thunder Valley. The main core of the city was only a few blocks long, about half the size of my hometown of Booruby. However, Thunder Valley wasn’t the capital for the Stormdance Clan.
Kade explained the town grew around the market. “The market was located here so it would be equidistant from all the towns in our lands. It’s also along the main north-south road.”
People hustled through the streets. Most carried packages while others pulled wagons. The heavy scent of fresh bread floated in the air. The buildings, made of wood or stone or a combination of the two, leaned together in an odd collection of sizes and shapes.
We stopped at the town’s square. Zitora pointed to an official-looking building that was three times as wide as its neighbors and had been constructed with large white stones. Iron bars covered the windows along the ground floor of the structure.
“I’ll talk to the authorities about our ambushers. To save time, why don’t you buy our supplies and I’ll meet you at the market.” She recited a list of items to purchase.
Kade slid off the saddle to join Zitora and I was left to take care of the horses. Without the Stormdancer behind me, the cool air on my back gave me a chill. I couldn’t help feeling left out even though I knew Zitora was right. We shouldn’t linger too long since we had another five days before we reached Booruby.
I found the market by following the scent of spiced beef sizzling over an open flame. Tying the horses to a nearby hitching post, I wandered through the market’s stalls. The open wooden stands had roofs tiled with shale shingles and all had bamboo shades to protect them from the wind and rain. On a clear day like this morning, the shades were rolled up and tied to the roof.
I bought a loaf of bread, a hunk of cow cheese and a handful of pork jerky. After I finished shopping, I packed the supplies in our saddlebags. With my chore done, I strolled through the market again. This time I purchased a spiced beef stick to eat for lunch and lingered to examine the glasswares for sale.
A stall filled with decorative pieces drew my attention. I stopped to appreciate the craftsmanship of a delicate vase. The clear glass had a swirl of green bubbles spiraling around the tall flute. Sometimes bubbles or seeds meant a mistake, but the effect was stunning. The vase didn’t sing, but faint pops throbbed in my fingertips.
“Ten silvers for the vase,” the stand owner said. She was an older woman with gray strands streaking her faded black hair. Her lined face looked as if she had weathered one too many storms.
“Did you make this?” I asked.
“No. Imported from Ixia.”
“Ixia?” The few pieces I’ve seen from Ixia had all been thick and practical. No popping. She wanted to inflate the price.
“Nine silvers, but not a copper less.” She waggled a slender finger.
“Do you know who made the vase?”
“I’m not telling you! You’ll go right to the glassmaker, undercut my business. Eight and a half silvers. Final offer.”
“Six,” I countered.
“Seven.”
“Deal.”
The woman muttered under her breath as she wrapped the vase and snatched my money. I hoped to find the artist and the best way would be to show the vase around to see if anyone knew who made it.
The woman handed me the package. I could no longer feel the pops through the thick wrapping. Even so, I felt certain the glassmaker was in the market. I hurried toward the east side positive I would find him.
A column of gray smoke rising in the distance must be from a kiln, I decided. The hot smell of molten glass drew me on until I passed through the market and followed a narrow cobblestone street. Convinced I would find the artist working in one of these abandoned warehouses, I peered through all the windows.
One of the buildings had collapsed and covered the road, creating a dead end. When I reached the rubble, all signs of a kiln disappeared. And my conviction fled. The air smelled of excrement and garbage.
I turned to go back.
A man blocked my way.
He held a sword.
Blue Eyes.
Chapter 8
BLUE EYES. But he should be incarcerated in the Thunder Valley jail with the other ambushers.
Yet there he stood. His blade poised for trouble.
I labored to keep my breathing steady. The collapsed building behind me prevented any chance to run away. In fact, the whole alley was quite deserted. A place I would normally avoid. I must have been tricked by magic. His sword was not his only weapon.
Setting my package out of the way, I pulled my sais from their sheaths, and slid my legs into a defensive position, turning my hips and feet to the right side so I made a thinner target.
I rested the sais’ weight in the crook of each hand. My forefinger lay on the hilt, pointing toward the weighted knob at the top. The rest of my fingers curled around the U-shaped guard. The metal shaft of my weapons felt icy against my hot forearms.
He advanced. My heart slammed in my chest as fear shot through my body. Sais were not cutting weapons. They blocked swords and bow staffs and could—in the hands of an expert—trap and yank those weapons from an opponent’s hands, but with a quick change in grip I could strike, knocking an attacker unconscious.
Five feet away from me he stopped. “Put your sais down,” he said. “And I will not hurt you.”
“No. Last time you wanted to finish the job, which included killing me and my companion.”
“Your companion.” His mouth twisted into a tight smile, but the humor failed to reach his cold eyes. “A Master Magician. A surprise that should not have been.” He stepped another foot closer. “I do not want to kill you.”
“Good to know.” I glanced at his blade. Sharpness gleamed from the edges. His actions didn’t match his his words .
“Your life is precious to me now that I know who you are.”
“You knew I was a glassmaker before.”
“Yes, but not The Glass Magician.”
“What?”
“You will come with me.”
The desire to agree pressed on my shoulders and climbed up my throat. I bit my lip to keep the words trapped in my mouth. My muscles tensed with the need to obey, yet I resisted, knowing he used magic. He had caught me unaware before to trap me here, but now I was braced for his magical suggestions.
“No,” I said, hoping his powers were weak. Controlling the mind and/or body was an advanced skill, requiring strong magic.
His brow furrowed and the compulsion to join him flared inside me with a painful intensity. An annoyed breath huffed from his lips. “Submit or I will hurt you.” He snarled, showing his teeth.
I had done the willing victim routine before. Last time the order had been the go-with-Alea-or-my-sisterwould- be-killed threat. My sister died anyway. Lesson learned. “No.”
He moved. Jabbing his sword toward my arms, he lunged.
I yelped and blocked the blade, swinging my right sais down. With a flick of his wrist he looped his weapon out of reach. The tip snaked past my upper left arm, leaving behind a burning slash. Blood brimmed and spilled, soaking the sleeve of my tunic.
I was out of my league.
“Do you submit?”
“No.”
He shrugged. In a blink, his sword thrust toward my neck. I flipped the sais into an X and deflected the blade up. The force of his blow throbbed through my wrists. The clang of metal echoed in the alley.
Blue Eyes pulled his sword back and tried another lunge. I pushed the weapon toward the ground, but again he flicked his wrist. A line of fire blazed on my right arm. Wonderful. Matching cuts.
He paused with his sword held in midair. My blood stained the tip.
I glanced past him. Didn’t anyone hear the fight? Should I scream?
“Submit? You will have so many cuts on your arms and legs, you will faint from lack of blood.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” He launched another flurry of attacks.
My breath puffed from the effort of defending myself. When he halted, blood soaked my upper thighs. The ground wobbled.
“You cannot beat me,” Blue Eyes said. “And there is no one here to help you.”
Not yet. I aimed my left sais at his temple. He blocked with ease and countered. This time he nicked both my shoulders.
A buzzing sounded in my ears as dizziness danced behind my eyes. “Okay.” I gasped. “I can’t…beat…you.” I drew in two deep breaths, trying to steady myself. “But I can…delay…you.” I sucked in a large gulp of air and yelled, “Master Cowan, over here.”
Blue Eyes spun. I rushed him, knocked him over and sprinted past.
In my mind, it was a great plan. If he hadn’t recovered so quickly, I would have made it out of the alley. Instead, he tripped me. I fell and rolled over in time to see Blue Eyes level his sword at my throat. I’d been here before.
“Submit.”
No other alternative at this point. He wasn’t going to kill me, but the overwhelming dread at being helpless and at his mercy made me wish he would. “All right.”
Pleased, Blue Eyes stepped back and offered a hand. “Stand,” he ordered as if commanding a pet. His sword remained pointed at the ground.
I ignored his help and summoned the energy to move. A high-pitched whistle sounded behind me before a wall of air slammed into us.
The force rolled me along the ground. Blue Eyes flew back and landed in the building’s rubble. I rubbed the grit from my eyes in time to see Kade running toward me.
He yanked me to my feet. “Let’s go,” he said.
“My vase.” I gestured to the package. It had been blown against the rubble pile. Probably broken, but I wanted it.
Kade huffed in annoyance. He sprinted over and grabbed it. Blue Eyes stirred. Kade hurried back and hustled me from the alley, only stopping when we reached the market.
I sank to the ground to catch my breath.
Kade knelt next to me. “Are you all right?”
“Dizzy.”
“You’re covered in blood.” He pulled at my clothing, searching for injuries.
I slapped his hand away. “Arms. Legs. No others.”
“Let’s get you to a healer. Come on, before your attacker finds us.”
“Why the hurry? Couldn’t you just—” I waved my hand “—blow him over again?”
He gave me a dry smile. “The air is calm today. Happy. It required a lot of effort to convince it to blow. I doubt I can do it again.”
Kade practically dragged me to the healer’s house. We met Zitora on the way and she supported his decision to take me there, claiming her healing powers could only do so much.
The tall healer led us to a room which contained the equipment needed to tend to the sick—a bed and a table loaded with supplies. After I lay on the bed, Zitora peppered me with questions, which distracted me from the healer’s ministrations. I had thought it hurt before he cleaned the cuts, but the wounds screamed with a new level of pain as the sharp sting of alcohol inflamed them.
I answered Zitora as best I could. I faded in and out of consciousness as the healer and Zitora worked on my injuries.
I woke. Lanterns blazed in the room and shadows waltzed along the stone walls. Worried I had wasted time, I sat up too fast and had to wait until the dizziness passed. Once the room stopped spinning, I found a clean set of my own clothes folded at the foot of the bed.
The cuts on my arms and legs throbbed. The injuries looked about two days old with ugly scabs forming, but they remained tender to the touch.
My abused muscles protested each movement as I dressed. I considered the discarded pile of bloodstained and tattered clothing. They were too ruined for even the Keep’s talented seamstress, so I left them there. I would have to order more of the long-sleeved tunics and linen pants that I preferred to wear. Good thing I had left my cloak with the horses.
Zitora and Kade waited in the front room of the house. Both had dark smudges under their eyes.
Exhaustion lined Zitora’s face. “Feeling better?”
“Thanks to you…and Kade. How did you find me?” I asked the Stormdancer.
“I heard you yell for Master Cowan.”
“We were supposed to meet at the horses. Why were you there?” I asked.
He exchanged a glance with Zitora. She nodded. “We were searching for you.”
I waited.
Zitora sighed. “We met with the Stormdance officials. They arrested the group of ambushers we paralyzed, and despite keeping the magicians unconscious, they escaped the first chance they got. Since we knew the ambushers were free, we wanted to warn you. When we couldn’t find you in the market, we broadened our search.”
“How did they escape?” I asked.
“There was another magician. Since he didn’t use his magic during the attack, I didn’t pick up on it.”
“Blue Eyes is a magician.” I explained about being lured away from the market.
“He could be a one-trick. Makes sense since he couldn’t force you to go with him when you knew about his magic.” Zitora rubbed her eyes.
“Do the guards know who the members of the group are?” I asked.
“Not really,” Zitora said. “After tending your wounds, I returned to talk to the administrator. Seems they are from the Krystal Clan. But we don’t know whether they’re sanctioned by the main government or a separate group. I’ve contacted Irys and she will detour to the Krystal Clan’s capital to investigate.”
“Irys?” Kade asked.
“Master Jewelrose. What about the other magicians?” I asked Zitora. “The woman and man. Are they Keep trained?”
“No. I’ve never seen them before.”
Apprehension coiled in my stomach. “Warpers?”
Zitora shook her head. “No. There are no more Warpers. After General Cahil captured them all, they were executed.”
I relaxed.
“I feel like I’ve come late to the party. What are Warpers?” Kade asked.
I almost groaned out loud. An explanation could take days to tell. “Have you heard of the Daviians?”
“The group of rogue Sandseed Clan members who formed their own clan on the Daviian Plateau?”
“Right. The Daviian magicians, who used to be Sandseed Story Weavers, were the Warpers. They used blood magic to enhance their powers and tried to take control of the Sitian Council.”
“And control the Master Magicians,” Zitora added with a bitter tone. “They almost succeeded, too, because of Roze.”
“Roze Featherstone,” I added for Kade’s benefit. “She was First Magician and the leader of the Daviian Clan.”
“Yes, but Yelena Zaltana stopped them—that part I know. Could this be another group of rogue magicians?” Kade looked at Zitora.
“I don’t know if they’re organized as a group or are just a couple of dissatisfied magicians. Not all magicians in Sitia have to be Keep trained. You’ve learned how to control your power from other Stormdancers. Same with the Sandseed Story Weavers. The Masters can detect uncontrolled power and we find the person before they can flame out, which will kill the person and damage the power source. Once a magician has control of their power, the danger of a flameout is little to none.”
Zitora stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her pants. “I wish I could stay and investigate more, but we need to go. And—” she smiled “—it seems I can’t leave Opal alone without her getting into trouble.”
Her words reminded me. “Did the city guards find Blue Eyes in the alley?”
Zitora sobered. “When we returned, he was gone. And they haven’t found any trace of him.”
My skin crawled with the feeling of being watched by Blue Eyes. I crossed my arms and rubbed my hands along my upper arms. The pain reminded me of how close I had come to being captured and of my inexperience with fighting. “All the more reason to practice with my sais.”
“And more reason for me to ask around. See if I can discover any helpful information,” Kade said. “I’m sure Varun will be fine for another day.”
“Be careful,” Zitora said. “He’s armed.”
“I’m a Stormdancer! Mere metal is nothing compared with the power of a storm.” Kade made his voice boom and spread his arms wide. His eyes sparked with humor. “I. Am. Invincible.”
“Until a happy wind blows,” I said.
“Curse those sunny days.”
“The bane of your existence.”
“The scourge of society.”
“The downfall of decency.”
“And boring, too. Nothing like a good gale to put a spring in your step.” Kade grinned.
It was the first real smile I’d seen from him. His stern demeanor disappeared; replaced by a carefree mischievousness. There was an inner fire in his soul. Muted by grief and loss, but there all the same.
“All right, that’s enough,” Zitora said. “Kade, send us a message if you learn anything.”
“Yes, sir,” he snapped and probably would have saluted if Zitora hadn’t pushed him out the door.
Zitora and I raced to Booruby. She was determined to get there as quickly as possible without exhausting the horses. At different times during the five-day journey, I wished I were a horse, wished I was back at the Keep and even wished for a day of rain to slow our brutal pace. The Barbasco yams only helped with aches and pains, not bone-deep fatigue.
On the afternoon of the fifth day, I caught sight of the brick smokestack from my family’s glass factory. I cried out and urged Quartz faster through the busy streets of Booruby. Located on the far east side of the city, our buildings were the last ones before the Avibian Plains. Funny how I never considered the flat grasslands of the Plains to be so welcoming before.
The commotion from our arrival was loud enough to draw Ahir from the factory. I never thought I would be so happy to see my brother. I slid off Quartz in time to be knocked over by Ahir.
“Ugh…you’re heavy. Do you have sand in your pockets?” I asked.
“You wish, big sister.” Ahir helped me to my feet.
The top of my head reached his nose. He had grown at least six inches since I had visited during the hot season, towering over my own five-foot seven-inch height.
“Now you can’t call me your little brother anymore.” He smirked.
“Sure I can, Ahir. No matter how big and fat you get, you’ll always have a little brain.”
“You wish, snake spit,” he countered.
“I know, fly breath.”
“Opal, that’s enough. We’re on a time schedule,” Zitora said in exasperation. “Ahir, where is your father?”
His eyes lit up. “Is Opal in trouble?”
Ahir ignored her annoyed frown, relishing the possibility that I might be in trouble.
“Ahir, you don’t want to keep Master Cowan waiting,” I said.
“Oh boy! You must be in big trouble.” He rubbed his hands together. “He’s in the factory, working with Mara.”
Ahir trailed behind us like a dog hoping for treats. Zitora hesitated on the threshold of the building. The heat and roar from the eight kilns presented a physical force, but she pushed through. To me, the thick air and pulsing growl wrapped around me like a favorite blanket. Home.
My father worked at a gaffer’s bench with my sister assisting him. His wide, adept hands pulled and plucked at the molten glass with ease. Hunching over his work, he didn’t notice us. The familiar sight of his broad shoulders and strong back tugged at my bruised body. I wanted to hop into his embrace so he could make everything all right again.
Instead, I signaled to Mara. She paused in her duties and sent me a welcoming smile. Her perfectly shaped features and wide tawny-colored eyes attracted men to her like snakes to the heat. She had gotten Tula’s and my share of beauty. With her long golden curls and curvy figure, she had the complete opposite of my, with my straight hair and athletic build. While all of us had brown eyes, hers were light and interesting; Tula’s and mine were dark brown and ordinary. Ahir’s were almost black, which matched the color of his short moppy hair.
I let Mara know we would wait for Father outside. Ahir tried to come with us, but Mara snapped her fingers at him and pointed to another kiln. He hung his head and slouched back to work.
“It’s an oven in there,” Zitora exclaimed. “How do you stand it?”
I shrugged. “Growing up, I spent more time in the factory than the house. Probably the reason I hate the cold.” I rubbed my arms. “It gets really hot when all eight kilns are fired. Eight is too many for my family to handle, so we hired a few locals, two uncles and a bunch of cousins to work the kilns. Shifts help with heat exhaustion. My father makes us take a break after each piece we make.”
When my father came outside, his shoulders brushed the doorway. He squinted. In the sunlight, his resemblance to Ahir was unmistakable. Although only a few black strands remained in his short gray hair and Ahir still had a couple more inches to grow before catching up with Father’s height.
“Opal.” Father crushed me in a bear hug.
I suppressed a wince. Five days of hard riding had not been conducive to healing. My injuries remained tender to the touch. He released me.
“Father, I would like to introduce you to Master Cowan, Second Magician. Master Cowan, this is my father, Jaymes Cowan.”
He shook her hand, and invited us inside the house for refreshments. Heat and the smell of molten glass radiated off his body.
Zitora declined. “It’s an urgent matter. Is there a private place we can talk?”
He shot me a look of alarmed concern. A familiar situation. If I had been guilty of any misdeed, I would have burst into tears and confessed upon seeing his ire. I quickly shook my head lest he suspect me of being in trouble.
“We can talk in my lab,” he said.
We followed him to a small one-story building tucked behind the factory. He led us into his laboratory, where he experimented with various sand mixtures and chemicals to produce glass of different colors and consistencies. Metal tables lined the room. Tools and various measuring equipment hung from neat rows of hooks, and stainless steel bowls had been stacked in precise piles.
The countertops gleamed in the light. Not a speck of errant sand marred the tables or crunched under a boot. Mother used to complain of Father’s messy armoire, and would wonder out loud how he could keep his lab pristine, yet fail to hang up his clothes.
His reply had always been one word. Contamination. He didn’t want any of his experiments being contaminated by spilled ingredients. It would throw off all his results, he claimed. Contamination also included children with sticky hands and dirty clothes, but his rules hadn’t stopped Tula and me from sneaking in here on occasion. I remembered the one time we hid under his desk, shaking in fear of being discovered, which inevitably happened. Our punishment had been to clean his lab for a season. After that season, we never ventured in here again.
Father sat at his desk and gestured for us to sit in the two other chairs. “What’s so important?”
Zitora explained about the Stormdance sand and fragile orbs. We placed the samples onto his desk.
“You think one of these ingredients is bad?” my father asked, staring at me. “How did you come to this conclusion?”
I told him about the old orbs and the differences I noticed. “The new orbs aren’t as sturdy. Same thickness, just not as dense.” I handed him a shard of Indra’s orb.
He examined the glass and tapped it on his fingernails, listening to the clinking sound. “All right. I’ll work on these. See what I can find.” He sorted through his bowls. “Why don’t you go into the house? Mother will be thrilled to see you both.”
I stood. “Can I help?”
He looked at me in surprise. “It’s better if I do it myself.” He must have seen my disappointment, because he added, “Would you like to learn what I do here?”
“Yes.” I had always wanted to know more about glass, but I knew he preferred to work alone.
“Okay. When we have time, I’ll teach you.”
“Really?” My turn to be surprised.
He smiled. “I’ve been waiting for one of my children to show an interest. Ahir doesn’t have the the patience and Mara… Mara is more interested in Leif than glass right now.”
We shared a laugh. Even though Mara had been pursued by every young man in the Cowan lands, only Yelena’s brother, Leif, had caught her attention. But since he was a powerful magician and worked at the Keep, they hardly had any time together. I wondered if Aydan still needed an apprentice. Mara could move to the Citadel and live near the Keep. She would be closer to Leif. And to me.
My humor leaked away. Back at the Keep, I knew no one missed me.
My mother worked in the kitchen. The delightful smell of bread stew permeated the air. Following the scent, I found my mother stirring a large pot. She greeted me with a peck on the cheek.
“Mara told me you were here. What took you so long? Your mother isn’t important enough to say hello to?”
I rushed to apologize. “We had—”
“Urgent business with Jaymes,” Zitora said.
Before she could lay on the guilt about not introducing her, I said, “Master Cowan, this is my mother, Vyncenza.”
My mother perked up at hearing Zitora’s title and launched into gracious host mode. “Opal, go get the good dishes from the cupboard and set the table. Use the fancy Jewelrose tablecloth, and make sure to put out enough silverware.” She clucked over my appearance. “Better get washed first and put on decent clothes!” She shooed me from the kitchen.
Her offers of every liquid beverage to Zitora reached me as I ascended the stairs. My mother wouldn’t be happy until the magician was seated with a drink and snack in hand.
The house had four bedrooms. Tula and I had shared a room. Only seven seasons apart in age, most who met us for the first time had thought we were twins. I entered the room. Tula’s grief flag hung suspended over her bed and I wondered how long Mother would keep it there.
Zitora and Yelena had sewn the white silk banner. They decorated it with animal shapes surrounding a single blade of grass with a drop of dew hanging from the tip. Honeysuckles were sewn along the border of the flag. It was a representation of Tula’s life and personality. A customary endeavor, making a flag for the deceased and flying it from the highest pole, to release the person’s soul to the sky. Then the flag was used to cover the soul’s most precious possessions in order to keep them from returning to earth to retrieve them. After a few years, most people removed the flag and gifted the items.
I had missed Tula’s flag-raising ceremony while a prisoner of Alea. Sitting on her bed, I ran my hand over the quilt. Last time I had seen my sister, she was in the Keep’s infirmary, recovering from being raped and tortured by Ferde Daviian. Alea—another one of those cursed Daviians—had promised Tula would live if I cooperated with her.
Curling up on Tula’s bed, I shuddered as a fresh wave of grief crashed into me. Alea had taken me to the Daviian Plateau, pricked me with Curare and left me paralyzed and alone for hours in her tent. And then he came.
No. I would not think about him.
I concentrated on Tula. My ordeal was nothing compared to hers. When I had finally been freed, I learned Ferde strangled her to death and stole her soul. Two weeks gone before I even knew about it. Two weeks a captive for nothing. She died anyway.
“Opal, are you done? The table won’t set itself,” my mother’s voice called.
I wiped tears from my cheeks as I hurried to wash and change. My thoughts turned to Kade’s grief over his sister, and I remembered thinking about how time would dull his pain. Which was true, but I had forgotten about the occasional knife of grief that stabbed you without warning.
I was mortified during most of dinner. Ahir and my mother were intent on telling embarrassing stories about me to Zitora. The Magician seemed to enjoy them and laughed, but I wanted to hide under the table.
“…naked and soapy from a bath, Opal goes streaking toward the factory, intent on telling her father about her toy duck. Well…” Mother paused for maximum impact. “She crashes right into him and he spills a bowlful of sand on her head! I cleaned sand from every nook and cranny in her body. For months!”
I cut through the peals of laughter. “Do you think I should check on Father? Won’t his dinner get cold?”
“Leave your father alone for now. You know how he gets when he’s working in his lab. Dinner will keep.”
I sighed. One avenue of escape thwarted.
Before my mother could launch into another humiliating story, I asked Zitora about her family.
Her humor faded. “I don’t remember my parents. My older sister raised me. We are ten years apart.”
Mara made sympathetic noises. “Sisters are great. I wish I saw mine more often.” She gave me a pointed stare.
Perhaps I would tell her about Aydan’s glass factory in the Citadel.
“Sometimes I wish mine would get lost,” Ahir joked.
“Mine is lost,” Zitora said in a quiet voice.
“What do you mean?” Mother asked.
“When the magicians came, they said I had strong magical powers and should be Keep trained. She escorted me to the Keep and left. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”
Gasps of horror ringed the table. Zitora shook her head through the barrage of questions from my mother and sister, and waved away Ahir’s apology.
“I searched for years,” Zitora said. “Chased every possible lead, visited every infirmary in Sitia, and viewed every unidentified corpse. Either she doesn’t want to be found or she’s dead and buried.” The Magician said the words with a flat tone as if she could no longer produce any emotions about her sister’s fate. Or she had exhausted her emotions.
“Why wouldn’t she want to be found?” Mother asked.
“Perhaps she wanted to start a new life,” Mara said. She rose from her seat and cleared the table.
“Perhaps someone is holding her against her will.” I suppressed a shudder; better to be dead and buried.
“Perhaps she was jealous of me. I don’t know anymore. I’ve thought about it for the last ten years and nothing feels right.” Zitora stood. Her chair scraped along the floor with a loud squeal. “Here.” She grabbed the dirty plates from Mara. “I’ll wash.”
Mother jumped from her seat with amazing speed. “Oh, no you don’t.” She hurried after Zitora, disappearing into the kitchen.
Mara, Ahir and I looked at each other.
“Who do you think will win?” Mara asked. “A Master Magician or Mother?”
I considered. “If you could call washing dishes winning, I’d bet money on Mother.”
“As much as it pains me to say this, I’d have to agree with Opal.” Ahir wrinkled his nose in mock distaste.
Sure enough Zitora returned from the kitchen. “Your mother—”
“A force of nature. We know,” Ahir said. “Come on, Mara, let’s go help her while Opal entertains her guest.”
My father woke me in the middle of the night. The bright glow from his lantern seared my eyes. Already awake, Zitora sat on the edge of her bed—my bed, actually. I had slept in Tula’s bed under her flag.
His words finally sank into my sleep-fogged mind.
“…found the cause of the weak glass,” he said. “Come.”
Chapter 9
I GRABBED MY cloak and hurried after my father. The sky glittered with stars and the half-moon cast a weak light over our compound. Father led Zitora and me to his lab.
Torches blazed and crackled. The air smelled of camphor and honey. Bowls filled with sand and water rested on the countertops along with opened jars and spilled ingredients. It was the first time I’d seen his lab messy.
“I had forgotten all about it,” he said, picking up a small porcelain bowl. “Hoped never to see the cursed substance again.” He thrust the container at Zitora.
Confused, she handed it to me. The contents appeared to be lime. I grabbed a pinch, and rubbed the white substance between my fingertips. Lime.
“Jaymes, what are you talking about?” she asked.
“What’s wrong with the lime, Father?”
He drew in a deep breath and settled into his chair.
“Thirty years ago, well before the Commander’s takeover of Ixia, we used to import sand and other glass compounds from the north. There were a number of glass factories in Booruby back then—twice as many as today—and competition was fierce.” My father’s gaze was unfocused as he stared into the past.
“I only had two kilns then, but my wares were different and I was new. Business boomed and I ordered another two kilns.”
Zitora opened her mouth, but I placed my hand on her shoulder, warning her to keep quiet with a slight shake of my head. He would get to the point of his story eventually, interrupting or hurrying him would only prolong the tale. We sat in the other two chairs and listened.
“Unfortunately my rivals took exception to my newfound success and plotted ways to discredit me. They started what’s now known as the Glass Wars. My factory was hit first. They contaminated my lime with Brittle Talc. It looks like lime, feels like lime, but if it gets into your molten mix, the talc affects the quality of your piece.”
“Makes it less dense?” I asked.
“Exactly. Drove me crazy, wondering why my glass broke so easily. Almost drove me out of business, too. Soon only a few glass factories remained. We suspected sabotage, but had no proof. I discovered the contaminant by accident. While shoveling my lime into bags to sell to the farmers because I was desperate for money, I spilled a bucket of water onto the pile. The lime turned purple.”
“Purple?” Zitora asked.
“Purple,” my father repeated. “The water reacted to the Brittle Talc, changing color. We didn’t know the name then, but when I made glass with lime that didn’t turn purple, it didn’t break. I was just happy to be back in business, but the other glassmakers who had been hit by the Brittle Talc decided to retaliate.”
“The Glass Wars,” I said, remembering my father’s stories. “You never told us about the Brittle Talc before.”
“I didn’t want you to know about it. Eventually, the man responsible for bringing the talc to Booruby was caught and the factory owners who started the whole mess were arrested. The factories that had survived the war in one piece signed an agreement to work together. Only a few of us knew about the talc and we promised to keep it quiet. There hasn’t been a problem—besides minor disagreements—since.”
Father pulled the bowl from my hands and set it on his desk. “This is a sample of the lime you brought back from the Stormdance Clan.” He tipped a glass of water into it. The lime turned purple.
“Could the talc get into the Stormdance lime by accident?” Zitora asked.
“Nope.”
“Who knows about Brittle Talc?”
“Me, my brother and two other master glassmakers.”
“Where does it come from?” I asked.
My father shot me a proud smile even though my question didn’t show any great intelligence on my part. “Ixia.”
Ixia. The northern country was named twice since I’ve been working with the Stormdancers. The old lady who sold me the glass vase at the Thunder Valley market also mentioned Ixia.
“We have a trade treaty with Ixia. All goods sent over the border either way are supposed to be recorded. Perhaps we can find out who is exporting Brittle Talc to Sitia. What is it made from?” Zitora asked.
“From the flowers of the Chudori plant. When dried, they can be crushed into a fine powder. The plant grows near the northern ice sheet and at the base of the Ixian Soul Mountains.”
“In other words, in locations where no one lives.” Zitora frowned.
“Where no one can witness the harvesting of the flowers.” He swirled the contents of the bowl.
“What about the man who man caught for bringing Brittle Talc to Booruby?” I asked. “Was he from Ixia or Sitia? Did he mention anyone who helped him make the talc?”
“Back then you could cross the border to Ixia without papers or permission. He had the pale coloring of a northerner. He claimed he worked alone, but he wouldn’t tell us anything more about himself or the talc.”
“Is he still alive?”
“No. He was killed in prison by a glassmaker’s son. The young man’s father killed himself when his business was destroyed and the son managed to get arrested and thrown into the same prison. No one in Booruby grieved.”
We sat for a while in silence. I mulled over the information my father had given us.
“Are any of the other glass ingredients from the Stormdancers tainted?” I asked.
Father gestured to the array of bowls. “Not that I could find, but there is always a chance it could be a substance I haven’t seen before.”
Zitora leaned closer to the desk. “How big of a chance?”
I answered for him. “Tiny. He’s been working with glass for over thirty years.”
“Opal, now don’t go making me sound so smart. But I will say the Brittle Talc is the only substance I found that affects the density of the glass. If there was another problem with the orbs, then I would tell the Storm-dancers to buy all new ingredients for their glass.”
But all they needed to buy was clean lime. “So the spiked lime was sabotaged. Who would do it?” No one spoke for a moment. I listed suspects in my mind, including the Stormdancers and the glassmakers. “Do you think the ambushers had anything to do with the tainted lime?”
“It’s possible. They planned to stop us from helping the Stormdancers. I would like to know who told them we were coming,” Zitora said.
“What’s next?” I asked her.
“I’ll contact Kade and tell him to order clean lime. We can question the glassmakers who knew about Brittle Talc before we leave.”
“I’ll talk to my brother,” my father said. “See if he heard anything.”
While Zitora returned to the house to pack, I stayed and helped my father clean his lab. As he handed me bottles of chemicals to put away, he explained the purpose of each one.
“When you add this white sand to the mix, it helps reduce seeds in your glass,” Father said.
His comment reminded me about the vase I had bought at Thunder Valley. It had many seeds or bubbles. When we finished, I ran to the house to retrieve my vase and met him in the kitchen.
“Missed dinner,” he said between bites.
I unwrapped the package, hoping the glass was still in one piece. The vase had been well cushioned and survived being blown by Kade’s wind.
My father held the piece up to the lantern light to examine it. The green bubbles refracted the light, casting splashes of color along the walls. “Interesting use of seeds.”
“How does it feel?” I asked.
“Light yet sturdy. Smooth. Well crafted.”
He misunderstood my question. I searched for the right words. “Do you feel any popping or throbbing through your…?” My words died in my mouth. His bewilderment told me all I needed to know.
“Throbbing? As in magic?”
A glimmer of hope. Perhaps he did know. “Yes.”
“No. I never felt anything from glass. It feels like a cold piece of crystal in my hands.”
I masked my disappointment.
“However, I recognize the craftsmanship and can tell you who made this.”
“Who?” Perhaps another magician like me!
“Ulrick, Cesca’s youngest son. Do you remember him?”
“Vaguely. Didn’t you work with Cesca on a big project?”
“Yep. I had an order for a hundred jars I couldn’t fill in time. She offered to help and we’ve worked together on a number of projects since then. In fact, she’s one of the glassmakers who was around during the Glass Wars and knows about the Brittle Talc.”
The coincidence seemed too easy, but it made sense. Cesca reminded me of my father. She was dedicated to her craft; she experimented with different recipes and tried new methods of glassmaking. Her children probably learned from her.
The only memory I have of Ulrick was his complete disregard for Ahir, Tula and me. He had followed Mara as if she held him on a leash.
Zitora came into the kitchen, dragging her saddlebag. My mother followed, carrying my bags.
“Mother,” I admonished, rushing to relieve her of the heavy burden. “You should be in bed. Dawn’s not for another hour.”
“Who can sleep with all the ruckus?” she said. “Besides you’re not leaving my house without something hot in your stomachs.” She held a hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. Opal, stir the fire to life and heat up the teakettle. Jaymes, take Master Cowan’s bag and saddle the horses.”
I laughed at Zitora’s chagrin as we hurried to complete our assigned tasks. “You might as well sit down and enjoy the attention,” I told her. “Next time you visit, you’ll be considered a member of the family and she’ll order you around, too.”
A slight wistful tone crept into the Master Magician’s voice. “I would like that very much.”
With stomachs full of Mother’s special sweet cakes, Zitora and I said our goodbyes to my family, and headed into the heart of Booruby. It was about an hour past dawn. The streets hummed with early-morning activity. Citizens bustled along the sidewalks as wagons rumbled over the cobblestones, making deliveries.
“Wicent’s factory is down Morgan Street.” I pointed to the curl of gray smoke hanging above a stone building. “Where do you want to meet?” Wicent was the other glassmaker who knew about Brittle Talc.
“The main road near the west side of Booruby. Stay in populated areas, Opal. We still don’t know where Blue Eyes is or why he wants you.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Zitora nodded and urged Sudi down Morgan Street. I stayed on the main road for a few blocks before turning left onto Glass Alley, so named for the numerous glass factories located here. I found Cesca’s factory. The largest on the block, her building housed ten kilns. A store to sell her wares occupied the front section of the factory.
I tied Quartz to a hitching post and entered the crowded store. All the sales staff were busy, so I examined the goods. Plates and bowls with swirls of colored and clear glass lined the shelves along with matching wine goblets. Water pitchers and vases all had the same delicate twist of color. A few pieces showed the artistry of another hand, with thicker handles on the pitchers and heavy drops of color in the bowls.
In the corner, a few of Ulrick’s pieces rested on a shelf. Covered with dust, the decanter and matching goblets were bumpy with bubbles. The glass resembled frozen sea foam. I stroked the decanter. Pulses of energy darted through my hand, numbing my fingers.
“Can I help you?” a woman’s voice asked.
I removed my hand and looked up. A saleswoman waited with a polite smile and bored eyes.
“I need to speak with Cesca. It’s important.”
“I’m sure you think it’s important.” The woman eyed my travel clothes and sighed. “She’s busy working.” She put her hand on my elbow and guided me toward the door. “Send her a message, perhaps she’ll agree to meet.”
Before I knew it, I stood outside on the sidewalk. Quartz snorted in what sounded like amusement. I shot my horse a sour look. Peering through the window of the shop, I flinched. The rude saleswoman laughed with a customer. She pointed and everyone in the store turned to look at me. I moved from their sight. Not wanting to make a scene, I circled the building, searching for another entrance.
The storage sheds were located behind the factory. Workers pushing wheelbarrows moved between the shed and main building. I followed a man with a load of soda ash into the heat and roar of the factory. A sense of urgent production radiated from the workers. Serious expressions and quick motions kept them absorbed in their tasks. I spotted a few women bent over their work, but none resembled Cesca.
A hand touched my arm and I spun to deflect it, thinking about the rude saleswoman. A man stepped back with his hands out. I stopped and stared. The green in his eyes was so vivid it reminded me of lush grass lit by morning sunlight. Long black eyelashes outlined his eyes and matched his short dark hair. Even the smudges of dirt on his chiseled chin enhanced his features.
“…doing here?” He shouted over the din.
“I’m looking for Cesca. Do you know where she is?”
He peered at me with distrust. I hadn’t realized Cesca was so famous.
“Why do you want to see her?”
“Tell her Jaymes’s daughter, Opal, wishes to see her about an important matter.”
“Mara’s younger sister?” Interest flared in his gorgeous eyes.
Every man in Booruby knew and worshipped my sister. He looked close to her age of twenty-two, which probably meant they went to school together. I suppressed my annoyance. “Yes. And the matter is rather urgent.”
“Follow me.” He led me from the factory and into the cooler air. The man cut down an alley.
I hesitated on entering the quiet narrow street, remembering Zitora’s orders to be careful. But I decided the need to talk to Cesca was more important.
He stopped midway and knocked on a door, ushering me into a large storeroom filled with glasswares, crates and packing material. In the far corner an elderly woman sat behind an immense desk. Her thin skin clung to her face, revealing the contours of her skull beneath.
“This had better be imperative, Ulrick, or I won’t let you near my kilns for a season.” Her voice barked surprisingly strong.
I glanced at Ulrick with interest. He was the popping glassmaker. Unaware of my appraisal, Ulrick introduced me to his mother and retreated to the other side of the room to allow us more privacy. I explained to her about the Stormdancers orbs and the Brittle Talc.
“Nasty,” she said. “That horrid stuff almost ruined me. How can I help?”
I paused. Knowing I needed to choose my words with care, I gathered my thoughts. “Does anyone else know about the properties of Brittle Talc?”
“Yes. My children all know. We still check every shipment of lime for the contaminant.”
“And you have…?”
“Five children, three boys and two girls. Two daughters- in-law, one son-in-law and six grandchildren.” She beamed with pride. “They all work here, except the grandchildren and my daughter Gressa—she’s in the Moon Clan’s lands. All have been trained to work with glass. They make wonderful pieces. Well…most do.” Cesca glanced at Ulrick.
He sorted goblets, rolled them in cotton sheets and placed them into a wooden crate. His movements precise and efficient; the strong muscles in his arms and body apparent to me even though he wore plain gray overalls.
Cesca’s family created eight more suspects. I wouldn’t have time to talk to them all. “Has anyone asked you about Brittle Talc?”
“Besides my family?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“But someone within your family was interested?”
The woman shot me a scathing look. “I hope you’re not implying one of my family members could be responsible for those brittle orbs.”
I rushed to assure her. “Of course not. But they may have talked to a friend or colleague. We’re just trying to find out who knows about the substance.”
“Ulrick had asked for more information about it. He wanted to use it. The boy likes to craft flawed pieces,” she said with a disdainful tone in her voice. “I told him if he ever brought Brittle Talc anywhere near Booruby, I would report him to the authorities. That is a criminal offence around here.” She pounded on her desk with a bony fist. “He never mentioned it again. Smart move.” Her pointed stare implied I should do the same.
Time to retreat. “Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else about this matter, could you please tell my father?”
She agreed, but, by her dismissive wave, I knew she wouldn’t pursue the subject. As I threaded through the crates, I spotted another one of Ulrick’s vases lying on the floor. I picked it up. The blue glass contained bubbles that had been stretched into long thin tubes. Marvelous. Tiny tremors rumbled in my fingers.
“Here,” Ulrick said, holding out his hand. “I’ll put that away.”
“Did you make it?”
A guarded expression cloaked his emotions. “Yes.”
“It’s fantastic.”
He rocked back in surprise. I stifled a laugh, remembering when Yelena had shocked me by being able to see the inner glow in my glass animals.
“But it’s unconventional. The seeds…” He shrugged.
“The bubbles enhance the piece.”
He gaped. I gave him the vase. When both of our hands touched the glass, it sang. A brief burst of surprised joy. If Ulrick heard the song, he didn’t give any indication.
I decided to risk being ridiculed. “What I also like about this vase is its joyful tune.”
Shock, fear and amazement flashed. He glanced at his mother, then grabbed my elbow, dragging me out to the alley.
“You heard it…sing?”
He hadn’t let go of my elbow.
“Only when you and I both touched it. Otherwise I feel its song.”
“Feel?” His fingers dug into my skin.
I pried his hand off. “Yes. It pops when I touch it.”
“But…but…” He yanked at his hair. “No one else can hear it. Or feel it. I don’t even know what it is.”
“It’s magic. Another magician should be able to feel the vibrations.”
Sudden recognition lit his eyes. “You’re the one who was invited to the Magician’s Keep! You’re the glass magician.”
I flinched. He used the same title as Blue Eyes.
He held up his vase. “Does this make me a magician?”
Probably a One-Trick Wonder like me, but I wasn’t going to say it aloud. “I don’t know. I’m meeting with Master Cowan soon. Perhaps you should talk to her. Can you leave for a few hours?”
Ulrick frowned at the door to the warehouse. “No one will miss me.”
“Sorry I was rather abrupt earlier,” Ulrick said as we led Quartz through Booruby’s crowded avenues. “I didn’t recognize you. You’ve grown.”
“So have you.” I glanced at him before focusing on the street. Quartz bumped my arm and I almost stumbled into him. “Watch it,” I muttered to her.
“Excuse me?”
“Not you. Quartz.”
Ulrick scanned the horse. His eyebrows cocked into an appreciative arc. “She’s well-bred. Must be a Sandseed horse. I’m surprised there are any left.”
The renegade Daviian Clan had decimated the Sandseed Clan, but a few members survived and started anew on the Avibian Plains. “Quartz is the first one to come to the Magician’s Keep in four years.”
“And she was given to you. You must be a powerful magician.”
“I’m not powerful.” I rushed to explain. “I helped a friend, who put in a good word for me about Quartz.”
“Fortunate for you.” His mouth twisted into a bitter frown. “Fortunate that you were invited to the Keep in the first place. That you get to travel with a Master Magician.” He was quiet for a few paces. “I guess you don’t feel lucky. You seem so casual about it all.”
“Would you rather I flaunt it?”
“I would flaunt it.”
But I didn’t earn my position and, even if I did, I wouldn’t take it for granted. At least, I hoped I wouldn’t. “A combination of tragic circumstances led to the discovery of my talent. You might have the same power.”
“I’m too old. Even my mother has given up on me.” Anger laced his words.
“You’re not too old. The Keep brought in Yelena Zaltana when she was twenty.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And Master Bloodgood mentioned searching for another…glass magician. Perhaps you’ll be one, too.”
“Perhaps.”
He didn’t sound happy about the prospect. I studied his strong profile. Eventually, he turned to me. “I’ve learned not to hope. When I made my first bubble vase, it sang with happiness. I was so proud of my creation until my mother dashed it to pieces in the cullet barrel. She claimed it was flawed and I should try again. Nothing I made suited her, while my younger sister, Gressa’s pieces thrilled her. Mother only let me display a vase in her shop to stop me from pestering her. She figured no one would purchase it, and its coating of dust would deter me from making more.”
“But you’ve sold some. I bought one at the market in Thunder Valley.”
“You did? Which one?”
I stopped Quartz and rummaged through my saddlebags. “The design caught my eye, but the popping sealed the sale.” Holding up the little vase with its green bubbles, I smiled at Ulrick’s surprise. “You just need to find the right customers.”
Tucking the vase back into my bag, I grabbed Quartz’s reins and headed west on Vine Street. The road emptied. Ulrick could now walk beside me without being jostled.
“Nelinda said she could sell my pieces,” he said in amazement. “I didn’t believe her.”
“Well, she claimed the glassmaker lives in Ixia.”
He laughed. It was a rich sound, heavy and deep. “Never trust a saleswoman. I guess an Ixian glassmaker gives them a more exotic appeal.”
“They would sell well in the Citadel’s market.” I thought about Aydan and his kilns. Perhaps Ulrick could work with Aydan and me while he studied at the Keep.
Now I was hoping. I shook my head. After my last year of schooling, I would probably return to my parents’ factory. I should be concentrating on the problem at hand and not daydreaming about the future. My thoughts led to the Stormdancers’ orbs, and I remembered Cesca had said her children knew about the Brittle Talc.
“Do you use any special ingredients for your pieces?” I asked Ulrick.
“A few. I like to experiment with the mixture. I used vinegar once to see if I would get more bubbles in the glass.” His gaze held a faraway look as he grinned in amusement. “I did get bubbles. More than I could handle. The vinegar reacted with the lime as soon as I added it. I cleaned the mess for days and I was banned from the mixture room for a season.”
“What other compounds have you tried?”
He shot me a sly smile. “Fishing for information?”
“Just curious.”
“My mother taught me to never trust a fellow glassmaker. What do you really want to know?”
I debated about what I should tell him. “Your mother mentioned you had an interest in Brittle Talc.”
“So that’s why you came to see her. Has someone spiked your family’s lime?”
“No. It’s regarding another matter.”
He waited. The tight buildings of the city dwindled as we walked. A scattering of houses and factories trailed from Booruby like crumbs from a cookie. The acrid smells of the city faded into the moist aroma of manure and wood smoke.
“Never trust a fellow glassmaker. You said so yourself,” I said.
“You think I used Brittle Talc to taint another’s glass?” His voice rumbled low in warning.
It was possible. Instead, I said, “No. I just wondered why you were interested in the substance.”
He stopped. “It’s none of your business.”
“But it is my business,” Zitora said from behind us.
I jumped and Ulrick spun around. She sat on Sudi’s back with her sword in hand.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“That was my question, considering you’re with my student.”
I introduced the Master Magician to Ulrick. He had the good sense to relax his threatening stance, but he ruined any chance of getting on her good side with a comment about her youthful appearance. She scowled.
“Sorry, Master Cowan.” He rushed to make amends. “You surprised me. I didn’t hear you behind us.”
“You weren’t supposed to. Now answer Opal’s question about the Brittle Talc.”
“No.”
Zitora glanced at me, questioning. I knew she wanted me to name him as a suspect, then she could have Master Jewelrose delve deeper into his private thoughts. But the breach in privacy would cause more harm than good. The magic in his glass pieces might be beneficial to us and it wouldn’t help if he was resentful over the Master’s intrusion.
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Maria Snyder
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Книги о приключениях
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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