“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 place
d 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 offense 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.
“Is that why you brought me along?” Ulrick asked me. “To find out about Brittle Talc? Was all the talk about magic glass a ruse?” Anger pulsed from him. He was about six inches taller than me and he tried to intimidate me with his height.