Kade needed to contact the other Stormdancers and the new glassmakers. He ran errands while Leif, Skippy and I shopped in the market. With only a day and a half left of our journey, we didn’t need much. Though that didn’t stop Leif from drooling over the food vendors.
“As long as you like seafood, you won’t starve,” I said with a laugh.
Leif grimaced. “I’m not big with that slimy, smelly stuff. I’ll take travel rations over fish any day.”
“Then you better buy a pound or two of jerky.”
“How long will we be there?”
“A day or two at most,” Skippy said. He glanced at the sky with a worried frown.
I copied him, seeking storm clouds but finding only a wide expanse of brilliant blue. “Six or seven days at least, and a month at most.”
“You don’t need that much time to teach the glassmakers,” Skippy said with a surly tone.
Taking a deep breath, I counted to ten, containing the desire to send one of my spiders to bite him.
Skippy hadn’t said much during our trip, preferring to sit at the edges of our conversation as if he wanted to distance himself from us common folk. His snide comments still aimed to provoke me. I remembered his remark after the test about not being able to annoy me enough to lash out at him. Perhaps the Council had ordered him to continue his unpleasant behavior.
“You’re showing your ignorance about glassmaking and stormdancing,” I said to Skippy. “We’ll need to wait for a storm to make sure the orbs have been properly made before we can leave.”
His gaze shot to the sky again, giving me an idea.
“And it needs to be a big storm.” I threw my arms wide. “One that produces giant waves and howling winds. Where the seawater crashes into The Cliffs and we have to evacuate up to the storm cave.”
The color in his face whitened with each sentence, leaving behind a pale mask of fear. “What about the horses?”
“We let them loose on the beach. Beryl can swim, can’t she?” I asked.
“Swim? I don’t know.” He laced and unlaced his fingers. “Is that a Sandseed-breed skill?”
At this point, Leif lost it. He laughed so hard tears flooded his cheeks. “Some...magician,” he said between gulps. “Can’t...even tell...when she’s...pulling your leg.”
Skippy snapped his mouth shut and glared at Leif. The color rushed back, pooling in a bright red flush on Skippy’s cheeks.
“It’s hard to be rational when you’re afraid,” I said in Skippy’s defense, feeling bad about teasing him.
“You should know. You’re the expert on being irrational and afraid,” Skippy said.
“What do you mean?” I stepped closer to him.
“How rational were you when you stole those magicians’ magic? How logical were you when your own boyfriend managed to confuse you so bad, you still believe he’s a Daviian Warper in disguise?”
I drew my arm back, preparing to punch him. It wouldn’t be a sucker punch. Oh no. I wanted him to know my intentions.
“That’s enough.” Leif wedged himself between us. “Let’s finish our shopping.” He hooked his arm around mine.
I fumed in silence as we searched for a jerky vendor. Weaving through the stalls, I scanned the tables of goods. Leif spotted a smoky pit and hurried off. Skippy stayed with me.
Sparks of sunlight drew me to a stand selling glassware. The colored drinking glasses and bowls had a simple yet elegant design. They appeared sturdy and functional, too.
The stand’s owner noticed my interest. I peered at the woman, remembering when I had been falsely accused of theft and arrested. She wasn’t the same woman who had helped frame me.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” the owner asked. “Just two silvers each. Perfect for newlyweds.”
I laughed as Skippy stiffened. She probably thought he was being protective instead of wary.
“Here...” She handed me a plate. “Feel how light they are. And they’re all handcrafted.”
Tiny silver diamond shapes decorated the blue-green glass. “Isn’t all glass handcrafted?” I asked.
She pulled her long brown hair behind her shoulders with a dismissive flick. “No. A few factories have molds now. They just pour in the molten glass and wait. It’s cheating.” The woman’s hands moved as she talked.
“You’re the artist,” I said.
She nodded. “Which is why I can guarantee they’re genuine.”
“Do you have any vases or sculptures?”
“Yes, but they don’t sell as well. The local customers are usually looking for practical.” She rummaged under her table and pulled out several vases, then disappeared again. Muffled sounds emanated from below.
I reached for a red bud vase, but Skippy laid a hand on my arm.
“You can’t be serious,” I said. “Do you really think I’m going to do something?”
He hesitated, then released his grip. I picked the vase up and examined it. The thin neck widened into a series of three round shapes as if they were beads on a necklace. She would have had to blow into the glass, then pinch it tight with her jacks before blowing again. Well crafted but still under my fingers—no magical potential.
“Skippy, lift the null shield,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“So I can siphon all your magic.” When he flinched, I wanted to punch him again. “So I can assess her skills. She might be a prospective glass magician.”
“Oh.”
The glass throbbed, waiting for me. I concentrated on the vase. It didn’t pop like Ulrick’s. The woman reappeared with her hair mussed and dirt on her tunic. She placed a small crate on the table and opened the lid.
Skippy jerked when she unwrapped a bundle, revealing a miniature person. I almost dropped the vase. She set the statue down and dug in her crate for another. With care, I picked the girl up. The exquisite and exact details made the piece lifelike as if the young girl would hop with glee. Created with colored glass, the four-inch-high statue was a true work of art.
The glassmaker lined up six more people. She sighed. “I can’t sell these.”
“Why not? They’re gorgeous.” I passed the girl to Skippy and examined a swordsman.
“They’re expensive. In order to be compensated for my time and the materials, I need to sell them for half a gold each. Most folks around here can’t afford to spend that much on trinkets.”
“Trinkets! They’re collectibles,” I said. “How did you manage to work with these? Even the thinnest pontil iron would be too big.”
She grinned. “I knew it. You work with glass, too.” Then a shrewd look replaced the smile. “Why do you want to know?”
“Don’t worry. I couldn’t reproduce your level of detail.”
“She can’t. Opal’s animals are crude, a child’s effort compared to these,” Skippy said with a touch of awe in his voice. He twirled the little girl as if willing her puffy skirt to spin around her.
The woman’s face lit up, so I swallowed my nasty comment. Skippy was right, although I wished he’d used another descriptor than “child’s effort.”
“I make colored glass sticks, then melt them over a flame instead of using a kiln. I use small tweezers and hold the glass on with a thin metal stick.”
“How do you make a single flame hot enough?” I asked.
“Trade secret,” she said. “And with working that small, I can craft glass beads and other miniature figures.”
“You shouldn’t have trouble selling the beads.”
“I don’t. They go to the jewelers for necklaces and bracelets.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious and rekindled my love for the craft. All too soon, Leif arrived with a heavy package of supplies.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he sa
id with exasperation. “Let’s go before my arms break.”
Disappointment filled the woman’s face. I would have loved to purchase the statue of the little girl, but my purse contained only a few silvers of my own. The other coins would be needed to pay for lodging on the way back to the Citadel.
“What’s your name?” I asked her. “I’ll make sure to recommend you to others.”
“Helen Stormdance.” She held out a hand.
“Opal Cowan.” I shook it.
Helen gazed at me for a moment. “The glass magician?”
My normal reaction would have been to flinch. For someone in this remote town to have heard of me would have caused me discomfort or even fear. But she was my peer. “Yes.”
She gazed at me with frank appraisal as if judging the quality of a glass vase. “Are you here to teach the new orb makers?”
“Yes.”
Helen waved me closer and leaned toward me. “Keep an eye on them,” she whispered in my ear. “They claim to be experts, but we don’t know them. I’m willing to help if needed. As you can see—” she swept a hand over her wares “—I’m highly qualified.”
By the way she emphasized the “we,” I knew she meant the glassmaking industry. Most tradesmen exchanged information and kept up with the competition.
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” I considered her information and wondered how the Stormdancers chose their new glassmakers.
Skippy handed Helen a gold coin. “I’ll take these two.” He pointed to the little girl statue and one of a farmer.
She wrapped them with care as I recovered from my shock over his sudden purchase. I didn’t know Skippy at all and suspected his nasty disposition toward me could all be an act.
* * *
That evening, when we were alone in our room, I asked Kade about the new glassmakers.
“The orb makers were a family business for...ever,” Kade said. “The parents would pass the knowledge and skills down to their children, who pass it on to their children. This is the first time since the very beginning we had to select a new family. Raiden was in charge of picking them. I trust him.”
Raiden was the camp manager at The Cliffs, making sure the Stormdancers had enough supplies and food to last through the storm season.
“Do you know how he selected them?” I asked.
“No. Why?”
I explained about Helen’s comments. “It could be sour grapes because she wasn’t picked to make the orbs, but then again she might have a genuine concern. In my hometown of Booruby, I either know of or have heard of all the glassmakers.”
“We should keep an open mind and see how they do,” Kade said. He pulled me close.
“Think the best until proven otherwise?”
“Exactly. You should adopt it as your motto.”
I liked my way better. Assume danger and be pleasantly surprised when proven wrong.
* * *
Our last night of the trip started bad and ended bad. No travel shelters had ever been built on The Flats. The wide expanse of shale spread out for miles before stopping at The Cliffs’ edge. Sheets and sheets of the stuff, sometimes smooth, more often broken into uneven steps or ground into gravel. Uncomfortable to ride on and sleep on despite a mat.
Kade stood with the breeze in his face. He inhaled. “Smells like home.”
Leif tried to light a fire. “Smells more like a cold supper,” he grumped.
Skippy glanced at the sky. “Does it smell like a storm?”
“No. Just a fresh sea wind. In the warm and heating seasons, the ground heats faster than the seawater.” Kade used his hands to demonstrate. “When the sun sets, the warm air rises and the cold air sinks, creating a breeze.” He crouched next to Leif. “I can redirect the breeze until bedtime.”
A bubble of calm engulfed us. Leif’s pile of wood ignited.
“Sweet,” Leif said.
After dinner, we arranged our sleeping mats. I dozed on and off. Once Kade fell asleep, the wind picked up speed, keening through the cracks. Blankets flapped and needles of cold air poked. I shivered in my cloak, wishing I could huddle with the horses. Perhaps I could ask them to lie down upwind and create a windbreak. The four horses leaned together with their rumps to the wind.
An almost full moon hung above us, casting a white light on The Flats. Everything shone as if frozen, including me.
Rolling closer to Kade, I tried to snuggle with him. He didn’t move. How could he sleep on rock-hard ground with all this noise? His blanket was half-off his body. I sat up to fix it. His open eyes stared into the clear night sky.
“Kade?” I shook him hard. “Kade!” His blanket blew away, revealing his neck. A black dart jutted from his throat. I yanked it out and sniffed the blood-covered tip. No scent. The damn wind blew too hard. It didn’t matter. Only one poison would render him like this. Curare.
I checked Leif and Skippy. Both paralyzed. I touched my own neck, but found nothing. The horses resembled statues. Panic flushed through my body, replacing the cold. Yanking my sais from their sheath, I armed myself and scanned The Flats. Nothing. Yet.
Should I use Kade’s sword or Leif’s machete? Leif’s arm reached for his bag and I remembered he always carried the antidote to Curare in his pack. I scrambled to open it, but movement caught my attention.
Downwind, a dark shape rose from the ground. One more joined it and two more stood on my left. Swords glinted as they advanced.
15
Four against one. I waited with my sais held in a defensive position. My companions had all been shot with Curare-laced darts, the horses, too. No help from anyone.
The black-clad figures approached with their swords pointed at me. I couldn’t fight four at once. Not with my sais, but my pocket held my glass bees and spiders. I would need a free hand.
“Surrender,” a man’s voice called. “Put down your weapon.”
I threw my sais at the two closest ambushers. One clanged on a sword, the other flew past a head—just missing it. But now my hands held glass.
“Leave now, or die,” I called over the wind.
They hesitated and glanced at their leader—the farthest from me. The leader motioned them to continue. “Play nice, Opal,” he said.
I recognized his voice. Ice filled my veins and coated my heart. Tricky. How did he escape from Ixia?
“Don’t come any closer,” I said. “I have Greenblade bees. One sting and you’re dead.”
“Go ahead. Crush them.” Tricky joined his friends, forming a semicircle around me. A black hood covered his head.
Sensing a trap, I considered. I didn’t want to kill anyone, and had hoped to scare them off. Perhaps bees with instructions to buzz around would chase them away.
Tricky didn’t want me dead. At least, not yet. I knew what he wanted. My blood. No Curare for me. Curare paralyzed muscles and magic, and would neutralize any power in my blood.
Kade’s comments about being in a desperate situation flashed through my mind. I had warned them. My hands, though, wouldn’t move to break the glass. Since I hadn’t been pricked, it left one explanation. Magic held me immobile.
Tricky sheathed his sword and strolled over to me. He grabbed the glass from my useless hands, pulled my cloak off and searched me for more weapons. Revulsion churned in my chest at his rough touch as he emptied my pockets. More bees and spiders joined the others. He tossed my possessions to the side.
“Len and Aubin, keep watch. Boar, my pump.” Tricky called out orders. “You, sit.” He pointed to me.
A force pushed on my shoulders and my knees bent on cue. Once down, Tricky’s magic continued to hold me as if bandages wrapped around my body.
I studied the man unpacking supplies. He handed an unfamiliar device to Tricky and pushed his sleeves up. The firelight
illuminated the tattoos on his arms.
Blood magic strikes again. Only one person was needed to spread the plague. Frustration pumped in my heart fueled by fear and anger. If the Council had only believed me about Devlen, this wouldn’t be happening.
When all looked ready, Tricky knelt next to me with a knife in his hand. Sweat rolled down his face and he grunted when his magic released me.
“Don’t try anything,” he warned. “I can immobilize you again.” He ripped off my left sleeve and wrapped a thin rope around my upper arm, pulling it tight. “Lie down. Stretch out your arm and make a fist.”
No choice, I did as instructed. As I unfolded my legs, I felt a lump at the base of my spine. I tucked my free hand under my back. Tricky tapped the underside of my forearm. He tried to hide his fatigue from me, but I kept my gaze on him. If he was too weak to use magic, I might be able to get to my glass bees piled nearby.
“I dreamed of killing you for stealing my magic,” Tricky said. “Then I wanted to torture you for ruining our plans and having me arrested in Ixia.” He stroked my neck with his fingers, rubbing his thumb over my windpipe. “But you did me a huge favor. I should be thanking you.”
I shrank away from his touch. “Favor?”
He leaned close to my ear. “You didn’t tell the authorities I still had magic. That you couldn’t take it from me,” he whispered.
Horror splashed through me. “But I told...” Kade, asking him to tell Janco. But with all the cleanup and other explanations, my message must have been forgotten. I should have made sure. “It was such a small amount.”
“It was enough to fool the guards and escape.” Tricky traced the blue vein down the inside of my arm with the tip of his blade. “One little problem. I can’t increase my powers unless I use your blood.”
The desperate thumping in my chest filled my ears. About halfway between my wrist and elbow, Tricky drew his knife across the inside of my forearm. A burning pain sizzled and blood welled.
He covered the wound with a rubber suction cup and held it in place. A slurping noise came from behind him.