“No, you’re one ahead. How did you know?” Small tremors zipped through my muscles.
“I heard your scream and reacted without thought. I pulled the air before I even opened my eyes, hoping I covered enough of the beach.”
I had felt a little embarrassed about yelling so loud, but not anymore. “Thank you.”
“I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Then he scowled. “Besides, we’ll need you to train another set of glassmakers.”
“I’d like to talk to Councilor Stormdance about his interview methods before he hires the next ones.”
“I’ll make sure he receives your request.”
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I waited. Leif and the others should be back by now. Kade stared up at The Cliffs. His muscles tightened as if he fought to stay still.
“Go on,” I said. “Check on them.”
He sprang from my side. To distract myself from imagining various horrors, I thought about the murder attempt. Ziven had said I was dangerous. He claimed there were others. Who were they?
The list of people who knew about my siphoning powers was ridiculously long and probably growing longer each day. Just like null shields. At first, only a handful of people knew about the counterattack, but now it was common knowledge. Word about Curare had spread. Good thing the limited supply kept the drug from being the new weapon du jour.
Although... How had Tricky gotten it? The drug came from a vine growing in the Illiais Jungle. Yelena’s mother, Perl, extracted Curare and diluted it, creating an effective pain reliever. Daviian Warpers had stolen a shipment of the drug, and had been the first to concentrate it to use as a weapon.
Warpers again. Devlen must have given Curare to Tricky or told him where to find it. The temptation to test my Greenblade bees when I returned to the Keep played in my mind. I could send one after Devlen and another to Tricky. Imagine their surprise.
Leif returned, interrupting my evil thoughts. “They’re gone,” he reported. “We checked all the caves up to The Flats. I caught a whiff of them at the top, but we didn’t see them. I’ve contacted security in Thunder Valley and a few nearby towns. They’ll watch for them, but if Ziven and Zetta are professionals I doubt they’ll be caught.”
“Where are the others?” I asked.
“Searching their sleeping caves and the kiln, looking for clues.”
I should go and help, but had no desire to leave the ground.
Despite the attempted murder, the sun rose. We filed into the main cave and roused the fire. Kade and the others returned. They had found a stash of weapons and a few personal items. No evidence or clues to who had hired the pair to kill me.
Raiden carried a white metal box and a scoop, handing both to me.
“What are these?” I asked.
“You tell me. We found a bunch of those boxes in their cave, and the scoops.” He filled a pot with water and started breakfast.
The cube-shaped box was big enough to hold an orb. Two semicircular openings were centered on the top. Three latches held the box together, and on the opposite side were three hinges. I popped the clasps. The box spread apart like a book.
Inside, both halves looked like the reverse half of an orb. Confused, I ran a finger along a gap around the half orb-shape. Fishy-smelling oil coated the space.
Then it hit me. Those boxes were the reason for the orbs’ perfection. Ziven and Zetta used molds to make the orbs, not their own skills. Using the scoop, they poured molten glass into the closed box. When the glass had properly cooled, they opened it and removed the orb. The gaps at the top, where the inner form connected to the box, could be closed with heat.
Ziven and Zetta went to a considerable amount of trouble for their cover stories. Perhaps they planned to remain with the Stormdancers after they killed me. It would explain why they didn’t try another method to take my life. If the attempt had been successful, they could have claimed I had slipped on the wet trail and fallen by accident.
No matter what their reasons or orders, the Stormdancers still needed orbs for the season. After breakfast, Raiden checked the filled ones from last night. No cracks or any signs of weakness were visible. Though nontraditional, the molds worked. And I would have to use them since I lacked the ability to blow air into glass.
Kade estimated they would need a hundred and fifty to two hundred orbs for the season. I recruited Leif and Skippy to help me and started right away.
* * *
In the afternoon, Leif paused after filling the cauldron with sand. “How long will it take to make them all?”
We had ten molds, and I planned to have Leif blow in the blowpipe to craft ten more. The annealing oven could only hold twenty orbs. “Ten or eleven days.”
Leif gasped in horror. “Ten days being forced to eat seaweed and clams.” He placed the back of his hand to his forehead, exaggerating the dramatics.
“Forced to eat? You? The person who drools as soon as Raiden picks up his cook pot? I’m more likely to believe someone forced you to stop eating.”
He shuddered. “That would be cruel.”
After spending all day working, I dragged my body to Kade’s cave. My arms ached from wrestling with the heavy molds. I collapsed on the cot, planning to take a nap before dinner.
Kade woke me when he added wood to the brazier until the inside glowed hot. “You missed dinner.”
I mumbled a reply, making room for him on the cot.
“What’s this?” He picked up a piece of paper from the floor.
“My note.” It must have fluttered down when Kade heard my scream.
He read the words by firelight and laughed. “I see how handy those little check boxes can be. ‘Kade, I went A, fishing, B, surfing, C, treasure hunting or D, to the kiln.’ If you had checked B, I would have suspected foul play.”
“Guess I need to add on a few options. E, cliff diving and F, dodging assassins.”
“I hope you’ll wake me up for those two.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you miss out on the fun.”
* * *
Leif woke us the next morning. At least, I thought the darkness didn’t seem as thick. Kade told him to go away or he would zap him.
Undaunted, Leif said, “I received a message from the Council—”
“And I’m not going to like it,” I finished for him.
“How’d you guess?” He acted shocked.
“I haven’t liked anything the Council has ordered—why should today be any different?”
“Bitterness isn’t healthy, Opal. Perhaps we should send you to the Sandseeds to work out your issues.”
“Kade, could you zap him now?” I asked.
He pushed up to his elbow. “Sorry. He’s too close to my screen. It would catch fire and I like that screen. Took me weeks to find it.”
“Gee. I’m not feeling very welcome.” Leif pouted.
“The man’s a genius. Why don’t you go celebrate on the beach.” Kade plopped back.
“The Council has ordered us home.” Leif waited. “‘Why?’ you ask. The Council is worried about your safety and wants you well protected until they find out who ordered your assassination.”
“I think I’ve been insulted,” Kade said.
“Do you think you could zap the Council from here?” I asked.
“No.”
I considered. “Leif’s a representative of the Council. If you zapped him, would it hurt them?”
“Maybe, but don’t forget my screen.”
“As much as I enjoy basking in your love and affection, we need to pack,” Leif said.
“You go ahead. I’ll catch up once the orbs are finished.”
“Opal, you can’t ignore a direct order again. You’re gaining their trust. If you don’t return, you’ll lose it.”
&nb
sp; “So what! Maybe I don’t want their trust. One of the Councilors is probably behind the assassination attempt.”
“Whoa. That’s a big leap without any evidence,” Leif said.
I shrugged. “The orbs are more important than the Council’s orders.”
“You’re using molds. Can you teach one of the Stormdancers?”
“No. Too many variables. Ziven and Zetta did their homework. Their skills with glass were rudimentary, but they had plenty of knowledge.”
“How about the other glassmakers who interviewed for the job?” Kade asked.
“You want me to go?”
“No, but I don’t want you to get into trouble with the Council, either.”
I couldn’t trust those glassmakers. There could be another assassin hiding among them or worse—they could be unskilled!
The solution popped into my head. Helen, the glassmaker in Thunder Valley. An accomplished craftswoman, she wouldn’t even need to use the molds.
“Would the Council be agreeable to a compromise?” I asked Leif.
“Does it involve zapping?”
“No.”
“That’s a good start.”
I calculated travel times. “Ask them if I could stay for five more days. That will give me enough time to train Helen to my satisfaction.”
“Helen? Who’s Helen?” Leif asked.
“A skilled glassmaker in Thunder Valley.”
Leif looked at Kade. “Are you okay with this?”
“If Opal says she’s qualified, that’s all I need.”
* * *
While I waited for Helen, I continued to make orbs. I also created a few of my glass messengers for Kade to use to test his clan members for potential magical abilities, and I designed one for Leif. The magic inside his sea horse had faded.
Three days into my five allowed by the Council, Helen arrived in the early morning with her mother. Helen’s joy at being selected radiated throughout the main cavern, sending a sizzle of energy to the sleepy Stormdancers. She introduced her mother, Chava, to everyone, except Kade and Leif. Kade had gone to his spot on the rocks to scent the wind, and Leif was at the stable.
“I needed an assistant for such important work,” Helen said. She had twisted her long brown hair into a bun, exposing an elegant neck. “And since the orb makers are always family members, I brought my mother.”
“Has she worked with glass before?” I asked.
“A little. But she isn’t good with taking orders.”
Chava pished her daughter. “You aren’t good with giving orders.” She appealed to me. “She tells me to hand her a pontil iron. There are four different sizes. How am I to know which one she wants!” The stocky woman threw up her arms in mock disgust. “But don’t you worry. This is the greatest thing to happen to our family ever, and we’re not about to ruin this opportunity. If she needs a pontil iron, I’ll bring all four over and let her pick.”
Smiles erupted on everyone’s faces, including Wick. This pair would be an excellent addition to the seaside community.
“Can we get started?” Helen asked me. “We’re nine days into the heating season. There’s no time to lose.”
I led them out to the beach as Kade returned from the rocks. I presented the mother-and-daughter team to him.
Helen’s ginger-colored eyes filled with awe. Her long, graceful fingers grasped his hand, and she shook it as if dazed.
“I’m glad you could come on such short notice,” Kade said.
“It’s an honor,” Chava said. “You won’t regret inviting us. My daughter will create the most beautiful orbs you’ve ever seen.”
“Mother,” Helen scolded. She kept Kade’s hand in hers. “She exaggerates. I’ll do my very best, of course. You’re the ones risking your life for all of Sitia. Thank you so much.”
She finally released him. I studied her oval face to determine her sincerity. Her acting skills could be well honed, or she might actually be genuine. I didn’t remember her being so striking at the market. Her large almond-shaped eyes and small nose complemented her full lips. A few inches shorter than my own five feet seven inches, she appeared to match my age, though her curvy figure made my athletic build look scrawny. Jealous? Who, me?
I showed Helen and Chava the stockpiles and the kiln.
“Those...things can be thrown into the sea,” Helen said with distaste, referring to the molds. “How many orbs have you made so far?” she asked me.
“Twenty-five.”
“Then we have lots of work to do.” Helen examined one of the finished orbs, then gathered a slug of molten glass with a blowpipe.
With her mother’s help, she produced an orb in record time. Her skills amazed me. I felt relieved I had picked an outstanding replacement, but at the same time, suspicion churned in my mind. She seemed a little too qualified, too confident. Her comments at the market about molds had hit too close to the mark.
During the next two days, Helen and Chava gave no evidence of being anything other than a mother and daughter determined to prove they possessed the skills to be the new orb makers. When a squall raced by, her orbs passed the test, containing the storm’s energy without breaking.
I still didn’t like the way Helen fawned over Kade, but I couldn’t blame her. He melted my heart when he smiled. My blood sizzled with his touch.
My Council-approved extension expired, and I packed for the trip back to the Citadel. In such a small cave, my stuff had managed to spread all over the place. It didn’t help that the mess of blankets covered most of the floor.
I paused and touched my lips. They tingled from last night when I made sure Kade wouldn’t forget me. The desire to stay here with him pulsed in my chest. But I would be obedient and return to the Keep. I could endure forty-nine more days until graduation, assuming I would graduate and not be murdered or bled dry in the meantime. Then what? Prove the truth to the Council about Devlen and stop Tricky?
The illicit knowledge of blood magic spread like embers in the wind, igniting more areas. Soon everyone would know how to use it. It might already be too late to stop it. Yelena and I couldn’t imprison so many souls in glass.
I sighed and continued packing. Checking under the cot, I bumped my head when Helen’s voice sounded behind me. I scrambled to my feet, reaching for my switchblade.
“Sorry to scare you,” she said.
My hand hovered near my weapon. “No problem.”
She glanced around the untidy cave. “Is this Stormdancer Kade’s quarters?”
“Yes.”
“Then you and he—”
“Yes.”
“Then I picked the perfect one,” she exclaimed. She pulled one of her glass statues from her pocket and handed it to me. “To thank you for your recommendation.”
The four-inch figure held an iridescent globe in his hands. A Stormdancer exalting over a successful harvest. His gold-streaked hair reminded me of Kade.
“You don’t have—”
“I wanted to.”
“It’s exquisite. Thank you.”
She bounced on the balls of her feet at the compliment. “Please feel free to show it to your friends. I take orders.” She winked. “After all, I need something to do during the off-season.”
“I will.”
“Safe travels, Opal.” She waved and headed up to the kiln’s cave.
I realized my right hand rested on my switchblade. Before, I would have regretted being so untrusting, but not today. My reaction pleased me.
* * *
Carrying my heavy saddlebags along the trail, I stopped to catch my breath near the main cavern. Voices floated on the warm breeze. Prin and Tebbs stood on the beach, chatting and throwing small shells into the waves. They didn’t notice me.
“...I like
her. She’s sweet and... Her mother...hoot,” Tebbs said.
The sound of the surf obscured parts of their conversation. I guessed they discussed Helen.
“She would be...for Kade,” Prin said.
I hefted my bags, preparing to move on, when a lull in the waves allowed me to hear them better.
“It’s ridiculous,” Prin said. “He should be with another clan member. We need more Stormdancers. If he stays with Opal, they’ll probably have children with weird glass powers.”
Uncertain how to react, I moved past them without saying a word. It didn’t matter what they thought as long as Kade remained happy.
He waited for me at the stable. He had saddled Quartz for me. Leif grumbled and worked on getting Rusalka ready. Skippy sat on Beryl. She danced with impatience, sensing her rider’s mood.
Kade grabbed my bags and secured them on Quartz. I glanced at Moonlight. Even though the stall’s door gaped wide open, he pressed against the far wall of the pen, presenting his rear to us. His taut muscles and laid-back ears warned us to keep away.
“He won’t come out,” Leif said.
“He wouldn’t let me bridle him,” Kade said. “I’m sure the Stable Master at the Keep wants him back. Do you think he knows I’m not going with you?”
Leif and I just looked at Kade.
“Oh.”
“Looks like you got yourself a horse,” Leif said. He swung up on Rusalka. “Let’s go, we’re burning daylight.”
Kade stepped close to me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and rested his forehead on mine. “Be very very careful. Post a watch at night, and don’t let your guard down. Promise?”
“Yes. Will you be able to come for my graduation?”
“Sorry. Storms tend to trickle into the hot season. And I received a threatening letter from my mother. My parents haven’t seen me since Kaya’s flag-raising ceremony—almost a year ago.”
“I understand.” I remembered my parents had kept my sister’s grief flag over her bed for five years before they could put it away.
“They want me to stay with them until the next storm season. Why don’t you come visit me after graduation. I’m sure they would love to meet you.”
“I would enjoy that. I’ll send you a message.”
Sea Glass Page 26
