Sea Glass g-2

by Maria V. Snyder

  “Hello, Opal! Welcome back,” Marrok said. He sheathed the blade and set it into a bin. He had cropped his gray hair to a bristle. Tall and tanned like leather, he reminded me of a wooden practice sword—nicked, well-worn, yet still strong.

  Marrok pulled off his gloves. “The rumors about you have been rather spectacular.”

  “And they’re all true.” I didn’t want him to repeat them, preferring to remain ignorant.

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m an old soldier. I don’t believe anything unless I’m ordered to believe it.”

  “Good to know.”

  “What can I help you with?”

  “I want to get back on a training schedule.”

  “With your sais?”

  “With my sais, self-defense, knife fighting…” I swept my hand out. “Everything.”

  He whistled. “You might make a few people nervous.”

  “They’re already nervous. Have you been ordered not to?”

  “Nope. But you’re going to have to dedicate a lot of time each day.”

  “How much?”

  “You’ll have to build up to at least four hours a day. Six would be better.”

  “Six, then.”

  He considered. “Don’t you have classes?”

  “In the afternoon. I’m free all morning.” I would skip the two refresher classes Master Bloodgood assigned and deal with the consequences when they arrived.

  “When do you want to start?”

  “Now if possible.”

  I soaked in the hot water, letting my bruised muscles relax. Captain Marrok had started my session by sparring with me. No weapons, just hand-to-hand combat to gauge how much I knew. Not a lot, but not beyond hope, either.

  Taking my time, I washed the horse hair, sweat and grime from my body, luxuriating in the Keep’s bathhouse. When I finally returned to my rooms, Mara had already arrived.

  We chatted about the glass shop for a while, but Mara sat on the edge of the couch, causing me to wonder why she couldn’t relax.

  “I received a message from Mother,” Mara said.

  A bite of annoyance nipped me. Since Mara moved to the Keep, I never received letters from our parents anymore, though a message meant my mother had used one of my glass animals through the magicians stationed in Sitia’s major cities. With my encounter with the Council, my parents had gotten special permission to send messages via the relay station in Booruby. “And?”

  “Well…” Mara fiddled with the hem on her shirt. “They’re worried about you and want you to know you can come home anytime.”

  I could just imagine the look on my mother’s face when she spotted my entourage trailing behind me. However, from my sister’s discomfort, I knew there was more. I waited.

  “They’re planning to come for your graduation.” Mara plucked at her sleeve. “Ahir is coming too.”

  “It will be great to see them,” I said.

  “Perhaps you can talk to Mother about…you know.” She made a vague half wave with her hand.

  “No. I don’t know. Come on, Mara, what are you dancing around? You can tell me, we’re sisters.”

  “Really?” She finally met my gaze. Ire pulled her lips taut. “So why do I have to hear about your…adventures from Leif? Why do you always change the subject when I ask what happened to you in Ixia?”

  “It’s difficult to talk about…Ulrick. Answer all the same questions.” Weak. “Leif knows…” Weaker. I rubbed my shoulder. Even though the wound no longer remained, my muscles ached.

  The real reason I avoided the subject with Mara became clear. I hadn’t wanted her to believe I was a simpleton for falling for Devlen’s lies.

  “Mara.” I held her hand. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been and am an idiot. The whole thing with Ulrick…I was such a fool.”

  She squeezed my fingers. “You were used. That bastard, tricking you and making you believe his lies. It’s not your fault he played his role so well. If I ever see Ulrick again, I’m going to chop off a certain body part of his with Leif’s machete! ”

  “Ulrick—”

  “Should have told you he was on an undercover mission.” Mara tsked.

  I paused in shock. Yelena had made Leif and me promise not to tell the truth about Devlen and Ulrick to anybody, but I had thought he would be honest with my sister. I hoped to eventually confide in her, but I couldn’t break my promise.

  “At least you helped rescue the Stormdancer. I heard he was rather grateful. Did you two melt any snow?” She leaned back. All was forgiven.

  I detailed my relationship with Kade for Mara, but in the back of my mind I wondered what Yelena planned to tell him about the other situation. Would she confide our strategy to pretend I was fooled? Would he then doubt his feelings for me? Or would he instinctively see through the ruse? Either way, my desire to see him flared and simmered in my chest.

  The next morning I arrived for my training session, pushing as far as possible without exhausting myself. My afternoon classes of Money Management and Societal Trends were more interesting than I expected. Concentrating on the topics helped me to ignore the rather pointed stares and gawks from my fellow students.

  As graduating magicians, my class would be assigned positions throughout Sitia. We would be living on our own and earning an income for the first time.

  I gained new insight during the lecture on message priority in the Societal Trends session with Professor Greenblade. The ability to send a message over long distances almost instantly created a new department in the Sitian government. A few of my classmates would be appointed to work the relay stations. The government was in the process of drafting a series of protocols for those wanting to send a message to another town.

  The Master Magicians and high-ranking officials, like Leif and Yelena, all had their own glass animals for communication. The Council members held priority status. Their messages were sent without question or delay. Business owners and the public wanted to use them, too. Their demands increased as knowledge of the relay stations spread throughout Sitia.

  “More and more people will want access.” Dax Greenblade’s sea-green eyes scanned the students. “How will they put this new magic to use?”

  “Family emergencies,” Mary said. “Messages can be sent to family members to return home.”

  “Suppliers!” Steven said.

  “Explain,” Dax urged.

  Steven pulled on the brown hairs growing from the bottom of his chin. “A person could order supplies through the relay stations instead of traveling to another city to buy them.”

  “Or,” Chelsi said, “factories could collect orders first before manufacturing goods.” Her curls bounced with her enthusiasm.

  “Criminals could be caught faster,” Rebekah said. “Information about them could be sent to all the towns and all the guards could be searching for them.”

  “Already happening.” The words slipped from my lips without thought.

  She spun on me. “How do you know? You just make them. You don’t decide what the Council does with them.”

  Dax answered for me. “For special circumstances, the stations are used for distributing information. However, that could become the norm for all criminals.”

  He continued with a list of other possible uses, but my mind had snagged on Rebekah’s comment for two reasons. One, the students didn’t know about my defying the Council’s order. Amazing, considering how fast gossip and speculation shot through the Keep’s campus.

  And Rebekah made an excellent point. I wasn’t involved with the decision-making process for how to use my glass messengers. Why not? A faint memory of Zitora mentioning the committee rose to the surface of my mind. At the time, I had no interest in being a part of it, trusting the Council to decide. Another mistake.

  Dax’s voice interrupted my musings. “Think about how these stations will affect society.” He held up three long fingers. “Give me three changes we will see.”

  “They will eliminate the need for long-dis
tance messengers,” Steven said. “People will lose their jobs.”

  Chelsi agreed. “Less travel means the demand for horses will drop.”

  “But,” Rebekah said, “the need for caravans will increase.”

  “Explain.” Dax kept one finger raised.

  “If it is easier and quicker to order goods, then more merchants will place orders for merchandise from factories all over Sitia and the items will need to be delivered.”

  “The demand for horses would increase then and all those out-of-work messengers can get employment from the caravan owners,” Mary said.

  “Good. Do you think the government should charge people to use the relay stations?” Dax asked.

  The answer was unanimous.

  “Of course,” Steven said. “The stations cost money to run, and you have to pay the magician.”

  Another snagged thought. The stations didn’t have to pay for the glass.

  “You’ve all been focused on business and commerce. How do you think the stations will affect Sitians?” Dax asked.

  Chelsi jumped in. “Arguments over priority. Some people always think their message is more important than everybody else’s.”

  “Arguments over the cost. I’m sure someone will argue emergencies should be free,” Mary said.

  “I’d bet a few wealthy business owners would want their own station. Pay for all the costs so they could use them anytime they wanted.”

  “Ahhh…. Now you’re thinking.” Dax beamed at Rebekah.

  “Which creates another problem. Anyone?” When no one spoke, Dax looked at me. “Opal, you’ve been too quiet. What do you think will be the biggest problem?”

  “Supply.”

  “Explain.”

  “As the uses for the glass…messengers increases, demand will increase. However, the supply is limited.”

  “Exactly!” Dax shouted.

  He kept the debate going, but my mind filled with a horrible vision. I saw myself twenty years in the future, working at a huge glass factory. Workers crafted glass messengers and I made an endless circuit, blowing magic into each one, creating hundreds a day. Since society couldn’t function without my glass messengers, I couldn’t leave for fear I would be hurt or killed, and would spend the rest of my life imprisoned in the factory.

  11

  “OPAL?” DAX’S SOFT VOICE HELD CONCERN.

  I glanced up. The other students had left. “Sorry.” I grabbed my books and stood.

  “I hope I didn’t upset you.”

  “Not at all,” I lied. “You just gave me a lot to think about.”

  “Good. You’re in a unique position. You should be considering all the possibilities. This extends beyond the Keep and the Council.”

  His words haunted me throughout dinner. My future vision wouldn’t dissipate no matter how hard I tried to focus on another topic or memory or my food. What would happen if I stopped making my glass now before it became ingrained in society?

  Could the Council force me? Of course. All they needed to do was threaten harm to my family or Kade or threaten to invite Devlen to help change my mind. Would the Council stoop to such measures? If they believed it was vital to society, I guessed they would.

  I arrived at Master Bloodgood’s office at the appointed hour. Worry gnawed on my ribs like a hungry tree leopard. He called me in before I even knocked.

  “Please sit down.” First Magician sat behind his desk, all traces of a friendly grandfather gone. He studied me as if I were prey. “How were your classes?”

  I wouldn’t play this game. Not anymore. “Master Bloodgood, please don’t pretend. Do me the honor of acknowledging the fact you already know how my classes went and everything I did and said today.” Suicide. I braced for his reply.

  “Very well. What I do not know is why you skipped your morning classes.”

  “I already earned high marks for them. Saying I need a refresher is an insult to my intelligence. What is sorely lacking in my education is the ability to defend myself. My…ah…adventures in the field have taught me I need to improve my fighting and self-defense techniques.” And picking locks.

  “Are you saying you know better than me?”

  “Yes, sir.” Double suicide. Was that even possible?

  The silence pressed on my skin, sending darts of fear through my chest. I resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. To apologize. To beg his forgiveness.

  “Good for you. I approve your new schedule.”

  I needed a few seconds to recover. Master Bloodgood didn’t wait. He launched into a lecture about examining the past to predict the future. At the end, he assigned me a research project.

  “Go through the history books and search for any mention of another glass magician.”

  An odd request, considering he knew more about Sitian history than most history professors. “Wouldn’t you have remembered reading about one before?”

  “Yes and no. If one was mentioned by name or by direct reference, I would have remembered. However, many times bits of information are scattered throughout and I do not think they are important because I do not know enough about the subject. You have the experience, and will be able to pick up on those subtle facts.” He swept an arm out. “You’re welcome to read the books here or take them along. Make sure you are careful with them. Many are very old.”

  “Yes, sir.” I pulled a few dusty tomes from the shelves and carried them back to my rooms before I reported for my hour in the glass factory.

  The magician assigned to “watch” me waited outside the door with ill-concealed dislike etched into his large forehead. He had been an apprentice when I started my studies at the Keep. I couldn’t remember his name and he didn’t bother to introduce himself.

  “The null shield is down,” he informed me in clipped tones. “If you deviate from what you are supposed to do, I will have it up in an instant.”

  “Do you know anything about glass blowing?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. I know about magic and am quite powerful. That is all I need to know.”

  Of all the people the Masters could have assigned, I had to get him. I stifled my frustration. “Okay, Skippy, let’s get started. I only have an hour.”

  The thick, roaring warmth embraced me as I entered the shop. Hot smells of glass and the dusty scratch of sand filled my nose. Mara worked at a bench, shaping a bowl with Piecov assisting. A young novice heated the end of a blowpipe. Her hands left sweaty smudges on the metal.

  Mara introduced Emilie as my new assistant. Emilie’s blond hair clung to her neck and she shrank back when I extended my hand in greeting. Wonderful.

  “Thank you for the consideration, Mara. But you know I’m quite able to work on my own. I’m sure Emilie has homework to do.”

  Before my sister could voice her protest, Emilie dashed out with hurried thanks. It was bad enough to have Skippy hovering; I wasn’t going to endure the girl’s frightened flutterings. Cranky? Who, me?

  I pulled the blowpipe from the heater and blew through the pipe, checking to make sure nothing blocked it. The far end pulsed with reddish light. Hot glass only stuck to hot metal. I opened the kiln and gathered a slug of molten glass onto the pipe.

  Using metal tweezers, I shaped the glass into a dog. When I reached the step where I should channel magic from the blanket of power and into the heart of the dog, I skipped it. Instead, I cut in a jack line and cracked the dog off the pipe. He went into the annealing oven to slowly cool.

  Magicians would know he lacked magic. The dog wouldn’t glow with an inner fire, and they would see what everyone else saw when examining my sculptures. An ugly cocker spaniel.

  Usually in an hour, I could make a dozen animals. This time, I ended up with five. None of them glowed with magic.

  Skippy peered at me. His close-set brown eyes pinched together with suspicion. “I didn’t feel you draw magic.”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t. I’ve been surrounded by a null shield for the past ten days. Perhaps I’ll be
able to do it tomorrow.”

  When I reported my lack of usable glass messengers to Mara, she tapped a finger on her desk. As the glass-shop manager, she ordered supplies, scheduled workers and maintained the kiln.

  “Every day I’ve been getting orders for more,” she said. “The supply you left me is almost gone.” Her voice remained neutral, yet a question lurked.

  “I’ll try again.”

  “If you need help just let me know. You have my full support.”

  We confused Skippy. He might be a powerful magician, but I suspected he lacked basic common sense.

  He announced the return of the null shield with sneering glee. I ignored him, returning to my rooms to delve into history for Master Bloodgood. The project intrigued me and I scanned for information about glass magic as well as diamond magic.

  I wanted to explore the possibility of using diamonds in my glass messengers. They might be useful someday when I reached an understanding with the Council. Until then, I would keep it quiet.

  After a week of going through the motions at the glass shop and not producing any usable glass, Master Bloodgood questioned me in his office.

  “What is the problem, child?”

  “The null shield.” I flipped through an old book, seeking a reference.

  “It should not be up when you are at the shop.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Hale has reported that you have not accessed the power source.”

  “Hale?” I thought. “Oh! Skippy.”

  “Opal.” First Magician’s voice sliced the air. “He is a magician and your elder. You must show him respect.”

  “I’ll show him respect when he earns it.” I marveled at my audacity. This refusal to back down and be a good little girl had bubbled from deep inside.

  “Is he the reason you are not producing the messengers?”

  “No. It’s the null shield.” The penetrating way Master Bloodgood looked at me sent warning vibrations along my spine. If he wanted, he could lift the null shield and read my mind. He could force me to craft my glass if the Council granted him permission. The Ethical Code didn’t apply to convicted criminals.