Storm Glass

by Maria V. Snyder

  “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 glasswares, 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 Jewelrose 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.

  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 holde
rs 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.