Glass

by Alydia Rackham

  A fire burned in the wide hearth to the right, and lit lamps hung from the ceiling. Shields and faded banners from all kingdoms hung in a row around the wall. Chairs surrounded a beaten round table that bore the Curse-Breakers’ crest: a central chalice, surrounded by stars.

  No one sat around this table, however. Instead, Reola sat in an armchair and Effrain on a bench by the fire, and Galahad Stormcrane stalked in the shadows behind them, his arms folded.

  The three already present looked up when Clanahan led Rose inside. And, to Rose’s shock, Stormcrane instantly scowled, and turned his head away.

  “Rose, please sit down,” Reola invited, gesturing to a chair across from her. “We’d like to hear your opinion on something.”

  Rose’s chest instantly relaxed.

  “Oh! Of course,” she nodded quickly, smiling, and sat down where invited. Reola, her warm skin and features richened by the firelight, exchanged a glance with the ethereal Effrain, then sat forward and folded her elegant hands in her lap.

  “I suppose you’ve heard of the kingdom of Spegel,” she said.

  Rose nodded again.

  “Yes. I’ve read about it.”

  “What have you read?” Effrain wondered. Rose canted her head and considered.

  “I read that magic is particularly at home in their woods,” she said. “So that the trees move, and speak—and the water sings. And that the craftsmen of the king contrived a way to make glass that cannot break.” Rose glanced at the others in the room. “In fact, they used to trade this glass throughout the world for all kinds of riches. One six-inch pane of simple, colorless glass half an inch thick was worth a pound of gold.”

  “And so of course you’ve heard of the famous Palace of Glas,” Reola assumed.

  “Yes,” Rose replied. “Made entirely from this glass, in thousands of colors.” Rose halfway smiled. “I have to admit, though, that it sounds like a fairy story. I don’t know of anyone who has actually seen it.”

  “I have seen it,” Effrain said, her eyes downcast. “Long ago.”

  Rose blinked, and stared at her. When an elf said “long ago…”

  “Have you ever seen a piece of Spegel glass, Rosie?” Clanahan asked, coming around to face her, his arms folded.

  She shook her head.

  Clanahan took a deep breath.

  “That is because, in the entirety of your lifetime, no one has come forth from the kingdom of Spegel—though many emissaries have ventured in.”

  Rose frowned at him.

  “Yes, I have gathered that,” she said. “But do any of you know why?”

  “No,” Reola replied. “All we know is that no one who has entered…has ever come back out.”

  A chill washed through Rose’s body.

  “That is why you think it’s a curse,” she realized, hushed. “The message Galahad has brought—someone in the palace complaining of headaches. You believe it’s someone who has finally been able to get word to the outside world that they need help.”

  “Possible,” Stormcrane finally spoke up. “Or it could be a lure of some kind.”

  “From whom did you intercept this message?” Rose wondered.

  “An owl,” Stormcrane answered. “I have brought it with me.”

  Rose looked at him.

  “Really,” she said quietly, her eyes narrowing. “And where was it headed?”

  “South. Toward King Herrard’s lands.”

  “The Halls of Healing lie directly beyond them,” Rose said, turning back to Reola. “They do want a doctor.”

  “That is also what we have deduced,” Effrain said evenly—and Stormcrane turned away again.

  “And if the message bears the royal seal,” Rose went on, her thoughts flying. “That must mean that someone is still living in the palace—someone very important that they can’t seem to assist themselves. Which is why they’ve broken their silence!”

  “Indeed,” Reola nodded, watching her with something like cool satisfaction. “Would you like to hear the message?”

  “Yes, very much,” Rose nodded, sitting forward in her chair. Reola held out her hand, and Stormcrane passed the scroll to her. She unrolled it, held it toward the firelight, and read aloud.

  “‘His Royal Highness, Prince Nikolas, begs the indulgence of the High Healer of Oxforth and requests that a superior healer be sent immediately to the kingdom of Spegel to the capital of Glas. His Royal Highness suffers nightly from punishing headaches that disturb his sleep and plague his evenings. Payment for a cure for His Royal Highness shall be thirty pounds of Spegel glass, in any color requested. Respond by way of this owl upon receipt of Our message.’”

  “Fascinating,” Rose whispered. “How old is the prince?”

  “He is thirty years old,” Clanahan murmured. “And that…is the same length of time that the kingdom has been shut to the rest of the world.”

  “Oh!” Rose gasped, her eyes flashing to him. “You—You think it’s he that’s cursed?”

  Effrain and Reola nodded.

  “We do,” Reola said.

  “Cursed since birth?” Rose kept on.

  “Most likely,” Clanahan replied.

  “You are forgetting the most important detail,” Stormcrane cut in, holding his hand expectantly out to Reola. Reola considered him a moment, then handed the scroll to him. Stormcrane stepped closer to Rose, and pointed to the two broken wax seals on its edge. One blue, one white.

  “Do you recognize either of these seals?”

  Rose frowned at them.

  “No,” she admitted. “Neither of them belong to any heraldry I’ve studied.”

  “This,” he pointed to the blue one. “Is the royal seal of Spegel, specifically the royal family at the Palace of Glas. Note the fire, and tongs for glassmaking. This…” he pointed gravely to the white one. “Can you distinguish the symbol?”

  Rose squinted at it.

  “It appears to be a snowflake.”

  “Indeed it is,” Stormcrane crisply withdrew the parchment. “It is the royal seal of the kingdom of Iss.”

  Rose stared at him.

  “Iss?” she whispered. “I…I thought that was a myth!” She quickly looked to all the others. “A story our mothers told us when we misbehaved! Iss was a terrible country in the north where the Snow Queen lived—and if you were naughty she’d come and snatch you out of your bed—”

  “It isn’t a myth,” Reola said, her voice low and solemn. “Except perhaps the bit about her snatching children from their beds.”

  Rose couldn’t tear her eyes from her.

  “The Snow Queen is real?”

  “She is,” Effrain said, capturing Rose’s gaze. “And her name is Iskyla.”

  “How do you know?” Rose breathed. “Have you seen her, too?”

  “Yes, I have,” Effrain replied. “She is an ice fairy.”

  “But…” Rose’s mind spun again. “Why would her seal be set upon a correspondence from Spegel?”

  Silence fell. Rose glanced at all of her masters—and then her attention fell upon Stormcrane’s dark countenance.

  “You think she’s there, don’t you, Galahad?” she said. “You think she’s captured the palace—that she’s put the prince under a curse.”

  “I do,” Stormcrane stated, lifting his chin.

  “And I do not,” Effrain countered.

  Rose’s brow furrowed.

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s your kin—that’s the only reason,” Stormcrane cut in.

  “She is not kin—I am half elf,” Effrain shot back, her eyes flashing.

  Stormcrane was unruffled.

  “You are all fae creatures—ancient and lofty and set apart from mortals, even Curse-Breakers,” Stormcrane answered. “And even if fairies haven’t gone about stealing children from their cradles—which no one can say for certain that they haven’t—they have certainly laid curses upon them, and those children suffered all their lives. Why would Iskyla be above that?”

&nbs
p; “It is not in her nature,” Effrain stated. “She is winter. Winter is hard, cold, unyielding, quiet and lone-some. But it is not evil in itself. Besides,” Effrain faced the fire, the flamelight shimmering against her pearly skin. “If she had cursed him, she would not have put her seal to a cry for help for him, and sent it in the direction of the most powerful magic-wielders aside from ourselves.”

  “So you suspect that he is cursed, but that Queen Iskyla didn’t do it,” Rose surmised. “But instead, she has a vested interest in keeping him alive.”

  “Perhaps she means to marry him,” Clanahan rumbled.

  Effrain’s eyes flashed to him.

  “She could not marry him,” she stated. “Not unless he had never loved anyone or anything in all his life.”

  Terrible silence fell.

  “What?” Rose gasped.

  “Ice fairies cannot be bonded with warmth,” Effrain replied, turning to her. “And love, in its nature, is warmth. Such a binding covenant would destroy her.”

  “Good heavens,” Rose breathed. “Surely you don’t believe that about the prince…do you?” She turned to Reola. “Do you, Reola?”

  Reola took a breath, and sat back.

  “At this point, even with all our experience and knowledge, we are merely speculating. But what we can all agree upon is that someone must go.”

  “Yes,” Rose nodded firmly. “Yes, I agree also.” She lifted her head, and turned to the young man. “When do you plan to leave, Galahad?”

  He glowered at her, then flashed his eyebrows and gave a crooked smile.

  “Apparently…” he folded his arms. “Our masters have declared that I am not suited.”

  Rose instantly frowned.

  “Truly?” she said, then looked at the others. “Are you sure? This seems to be a very dangerous mission—since no one has ever returned from Spegel. Galahad has broken out of at least three unbreakable curses in the north—one of them was a dragon curse!”

  “We don’t doubt Stormcrane’s prowess,” Clanahan said. “But the reason he’s not going is the same reason that I’m not going.”

  “What do you mean?” Rose wondered.

  “We don’t need someone to break out,” Effrain said smoothly, gazing at her. “We need someone to break in.”

  “In,” Rose repeated.

  “Yes,” Reola nodded. “But not in the way you’d expect.”

  Rose frowned harder.

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  “Based on the evidence, and what we have discussed,” Effrain said. “We do not believe that anyone in Spegel realizes that the prince is cursed. Which is why they sent for a healer rather than a Curse-Breaker.”

  “But also,” Reola added. “If Queen Iskyla is present in Spegel and adding her seal to the prince’s, the political situation may be precarious. Nikolas is still referring to himself as ‘prince’—”

  “Which means his father, King Alexei, is somehow incapacitated, or missing,” Clanahan finished. “All parties currently in power must certainly feel dangerously insecure. Especially since they have not risked trade, alliance or communication with any kingdom but Iss for three decades.”

  “Meaning?” Rose prodded.

  “We cannot send anyone threatening,” Reola said. “And we certainly cannot send a man.”

  “Why not a man?” Rose wondered.

  “Because all the greatest doctors in the Halls of Healing are women,” Effrain reminded her

  “What—you’re going to send someone to pretend to be the doctor they asked for?” Rose realized.

  “We are going to send you to pretend to be the doctor they asked for,” Reola said.

  Rose went still.

  Her mouth worked for a moment, but no sound came out.

  Her hand flew to her chest.

  “Me?” she cried. “I’ve…I’ve never been out in the wilds, I’ve never broken any curses on living people. I’ve never even left here!”

  “Which is why no word of you as a Curse-Breaker would have reached Queen Iskyla,” Clanahan said. “And by the looks of you, neither she nor Prince Nikolas would have any reason to suspect you are anything powerful or disruptive.”

  “Disruptive?” Rose said.

  “Yes,” Effrain nodded. “If the prince is indeed under a curse, then breaking it could change the very fabric of the way the kingdom is ruled. And that change may or may not be welcome.”

  “This is extremely important, Rose,” Reola leaned toward her. “We need you to act as the prince’s doctor, treating his headaches—which you are more than capable of doing—and also discover what has happened to King Alexei, find out Queen Iskyla’s motivation for being in Spegel with the prince—”

  “And break a curse,” Rose whispered.

  “Yes,” Effrain said simply. “Which is the most important task of all.”

  Rose just sat there, her hands in her lap, searching the faces of her teachers. She squeezed her fingers.

  “I have never done this before,” she murmured.

  “But you know how,” Reola stated. “You’ve remained here, studying, almost a decade longer than any other Curse-Breaker. And our intuitions tell us that this particular task calls for someone who is not flashy, nor a fighter, nor someone with a temper. Someone quiet, who looks beneath, inside, who is a puzzle-solver; who will work through the inevitable trouble with a great deal of patience.” Reola smiled softly. “I don’t think any of us could conjure up someone who more closely fits that description than you.”

  “We have full confidence in you, lass,” Clanahan assured her. “We know you can do this.”

  Rose’s heart hammered against her ribs. She squeezed her fingers together even harder.

  “Well,” she managed—her voice faint. “Then I…I ought to try.”

  “Good girl,” Reola beamed.

  Effrain smiled too, and Clanahan chuckled.

  But Galahad stood like a silent storm, and stared into the fire.

  Chapter Three

  The Curse-Breaker Set Forth

  Rose took a deep, shaking breath of the chilly dawn air. The sky above the courtyard was still a quiet, misty blue, waiting for the sun. The fragrance of the pines that surrounded the fortress hung heavy in the air. She tried not to shiver. Usually, she enjoyed the crispness of the early mornings here atop the mountain. But a deep, sharp pang did not usually accompany her rising and getting up and preparing to go out.

  She wore travel trousers and a billowy tunic with belt, laid over with a cape that had slits through which she could put her arms. She also wore elbow-length riding loves, all in pale blue, just like the sky.

  She cast her gaze up and across the dark, weathered walls of the courtyard of the Fortress of Maith, where she had spent almost all her life. She had memorized every stone, every beaten path through the corridors, every squeak of every stair, every echo and every voice…

  The black mountain horse named Devon, standing next to her, whuffled softly and shifted his weight. His metal shoes clicked against the cobbles. She glanced at him, and swallowed. Then she stayed still, and waited.

  A door at the other end of the courtyard squeaked open, and two women strode out. Rose instantly recognized Reola and Daisy. They too wore long capes to ward off the morning chill.

  Both of them smiled at her, and she attempted to smile back. Reola bore a silver chalice in both hands.

  “We’ve been up to the Source for you,” Reola told her, drawing close. “Did you have time to gather everything you need?”

  “Right here,” Rose held up a small, light carpet satchel with a handle, embroidered with roses.

  “Is that a i dtólamh bag?” Daisy asked, fixing on it.

  “Yes, from Clanahan last Christmas,” Rose replied.

  Daisy looked at it, then up at her wryly, and raised her eyebrows.

  “You almost have your entire room in there, don’t you?”

  Rose smiled.

  “I do.”

  Daisy grinned at
her.

  “That’s so brilliant.”

  “All right, then,” Reola drew herself up. “You have your maps, your compass, your food, your water, your supplies, your letter of recommendation—the owl has been sent on ahead of you to Glas.”

  “Yes,” Rose nodded, squeezing her fingers together. “And Clanahan and I have talked through the route a dozen times.”

  “Good.” Reola’s bright eyes watched her for a moment. “I wish I could come with you—but I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn if I did. Besides…” she lifted her chin, fire in her eyes. “Fully-fledged Curse-Breakers always travel alone.”

  A thrill of pride shot through Rose’s chest—instantly tempered by a dart of terror. She gulped.

  “Here,” Reola held out the glittering silver chalice.

  Going still down to her bones, Rose stared at it for a long time. Then slowly reached out with both hands and cupped it.

  The water inside, though it had come from the highest mountain stream, pulsed with warmth through the metal. And in its depths, an ethereal light sparkled. For, strange as it seemed, the water itself lived.

  Carefully, she lifted it to her lips, closed her eyes, and drank.

  Daisy and Reola stepped close, and rested their hands on Rose’s head. The two women took deep breaths, and began to speak together—an ancient Curse-Breaker’s blessing that they all knew by heart.

  “May you travel with the wind

  May the sun be at your back

  May the Source be light inside you

  Be there nothing that you lack

  Let the darkness flee before you

  Its wounds may you attend

  Truth a compass on your hauberk

  Weapon always in your hand.”

  As they finished the last word, Rose tilted the chalice back and swallowed the last bit of water.

  Heat washed through her whole body. And when she opened her eyes…

  Everywhere, color appeared brighter, the air smelled sweeter, and the delicious taste of honey lingered on her tongue. Both Daisy and Reola smiled.

  Then, Reola stepped in and embraced her. Rose wrapped her arms tightly around her teacher, squeezing—suddenly not wanting to let go.