Sea Glass g-2

by Maria V. Snyder

  Quartz seemed more than happy to continue our journey. We arrived at the top of The Cliffs by midafternoon. A hundred-and-fifty-foot drop-off ended at a sandy beach. Waves capped with white foam crashed along the shoreline and around the strips of rocks, pointing toward the horizon. Sunlight glittered on the sea’s blue-green surface.

  The tangy smell of the salt water reached us. I inhaled a deep breath. No matter how strong the storm, I would always feel safe here. The cries and squawks of seabirds combined with the shushing of the waves—a welcoming sound.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Leif said.

  Mounted on Moonlight, Kade waited for the rest of us to join him at the start of the trail.

  “That’s not a path, that’s…suicide.” Leif hunched over his saddle. “That’s not wide enough to fit a sheep, let alone a full-grown horse.”

  “The horses fit fine,” Kade said. “We use them to haul supplies to the caverns.”

  “Caverns?” Skippy asked. His pale face reflected his queasiness. He hadn’t said more than two words since last night’s attack.

  “You’ll see.” I dismounted. “Unless you’re a Stormdancer or a mountain goat, it’s better to walk down. Concentrate on the trail and don’t look past the edge. Go on, Kade. We’ll meet you on the beach.”

  He clicked his tongue, urging Moonlight down the steep path. Show-off. Good thing Sandseed horses refused to wear shoes or else he would have skated the whole way at that speed.

  I glanced at Beryl’s hooves. “You better go last. In case she slides.”

  “Slides?” Skippy turned whiter.

  Since I was the only one with experience, I led the rest. The trail snaked back and forth, cutting through ripples in the rock face. Wind and water had sculpted The Cliffs. Wings of rock jutted and caves pockmarked the wall. The path crossed natural bridges and skirted around columns.

  When we reached the beach, Leif fell to his knees with a dramatic cry. “Solid ground! I’ll never take you for granted again.”

  “Are you going to kiss the sand?” I asked.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Now I’m the one being silly?”

  “Yes.”

  I led them to the beach stable. Made of bamboo and thatch, the stable could house five horses. Kade rubbed down Moonlight.

  Skippy scanned the building. “You were serious about the horses swimming.”

  Kade snorted. “If a storm approaches, we’ll take the horses up to the storm cave. For now, it’s more comfortable down here.”

  When everyone had unsaddled their horses and settled them in stalls, I showed them the main cavern the Stormdancers used. Big and bright with lanterns, it was at beach level. Raiden stirred the contents of a large pot over a cook fire. Various people lounged about on cots or chairs, but a woman and man jerked to their feet when they saw us approach.

  “Bout time,” Raiden said. He straightened and shook hands with Leif and Skippy. His skin had tanned to a rich brown and more gray flecked his short black hair. The wrinkles on his face were a lighter tan color as if he always squinted while in the sun.

  “A wide-brimmed hat would help with that raccoon look,” I teased. Even though I knew his age to be around forty, he appeared a lot older than the last time I visited. Perhaps the stress of the glassmakers’ murders and having his strongest Stormdancer kidnapped had aged him.

  “At least I don’t look like a ghost,” he said. He beckoned to the couple hovering nearby. “This is Ziven and Zetta, brother-and-sister glassmakers. And—come on, you lazy bums—our other Stormdancers, Prin, Wick and Tebbs.”

  Another round of introductions was made. The Stormdancers didn’t bother to shake our hands. They waved hello from their seats. I knew Prin and Wick. Prin matched my size and age, though her silver-colored eyes gave her an exotic air. Bearded and burly, Wick grunted a greeting.

  Tebbs had pulled her brown hair into an intricate knot on top of her head. Her gaze swept us with sharp interest, but she glanced away as if bored when I tried to make eye contact. She appeared to be near Heli’s age of sixteen, but she acted like an older woman, copying Prin’s mannerisms and gestures.

  “Where’s Heli?” I asked Raiden. Heli’s youth and enthusiasm tended to energize those around her.

  “Out searching the beach for treasure,” he said.

  “Treasure?” Leif asked.

  “What Heli considers treasure.” Raiden sighed. “Shells, odd driftwood shapes, stones and coral. Her cave is full of junk.”

  “She has a few beautiful pieces,” I said in her defense.

  Raiden snorted and returned to his stew. The smell of steamed clams wafted from the pot. Leif wrinkled his nose, but couldn’t resist following Raiden to peek under the lid.

  The glassmakers talked to Kade. I joined them, much to Zetta’s dismay. She shot me an annoyed frown and a warning flared in her brown eyes. Kade, however, made room for me.

  “…just need the sand recipe and we should have melt by tomorrow,” Ziven said. His black hair had been twisted into long ropes that hung over his shoulders and back.

  “Then the kiln is hot?” I asked.

  He glanced at Kade as if seeking approval.

  “Opal is our glass-and-orb expert,” Kade said. “She knows the proper sand mixture and will instruct you on how to proceed.”

  Zetta’s ill humor deepened into outrage. “She’s not a Stormdance Clan member. It violates all traditions that she knows the secret recipe.”

  Zetta’s hair matched the length of her brother’s except she had small braids instead of ropes. Colorful beads decorated the ends of the braids. The beads clicked together when she jerked her head.

  Kade stared at her until she calmed. “Opal figured out the sand recipe just by examining the mix. Can either of you do that?”

  They hemmed and shuffled their feet.

  “I didn’t think so. As I said before, she’s in charge. I won’t use any orbs unless she approves them first. Now, I believe Opal asked you a question.”

  “Yes, the kiln is hot,” Zetta said. She kept her voice even, but she clutched her arms.

  “Is the cart near the stockpiles?” I asked.

  “No. We used it to bring coal up to the kiln,” Ziven said.

  More tradition. To keep the kiln safe from the water and weather, it had been installed in a high cave with a natural chimney to vent the smoke. It was also far away from the stockpiles on the beach. Crafting the orbs off-site and sending them to the coast just wasn’t done, either.

  “Get the cart. I’ll meet you at the piles.”

  They left but not without Zetta treating me to another glare when she thought Kade wasn’t looking. How childish. I suppressed the urge to stick my tongue out in response.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said to Kade.

  “Do you need my help with the orbs?” Kade asked, but his gaze sought the sea.

  “No. You go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Out onto the sea rocks.”

  “How did—”

  “You’re swaying with the surf. Go commune with the waves and air currents.” I shooed him toward the beach.

  “I get a better sense of approaching storms when I’m near the water,” he said in defense.

  “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  “You made it sound…absurd.”

  “I didn’t mean to. That’s important, unlike surfing the waves. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Not once you try it.”

  I shivered, thinking about the cold water. “No, thanks.”

  “It’s going to be fun changing your mind.” Kade waved and ran down the beach with an unconscious grace and hopped onto the black rocks. He stepped from one to another, traveling farther out. As the waves crashed into them, spray and foam erupted around him, but didn’t slow him down.

  My attempt to cross them had ended with a wipeout and a gash on the head. When Kade reached the final rock, I waited for the glassmakers near the
stockpiles.

  Four wagons covered with tarps rested along the back wall of the stables. I uncovered them, checking their contents. Glittering in the sunlight, the bright white sand from the Krystal lands filled the first wagon. Both the black lava flakes and the grains from Bloodgood’s red beach were in the second wagon. A wooden divider separated them. Lime packed the next wagon and the last contained soda ash. All the ingredients needed to make glass.

  I found shovels and trowels, but couldn’t locate a few important items. Ziven joined me, pushing the wheelbarrow.

  “Where’s Zetta?” I asked.

  “She’s waiting back at the kiln.” He grabbed a shovel. “What’s the recipe?”

  “I could tell you, but it won’t do you any good.”

  “What?”

  I gestured. “The scale isn’t here, or the drum mixer. How are you going to weigh out the ingredients and blend them together?”

  He considered. “We brought them to the cave. It doesn’t matter. We can mix and weigh up there.”

  “What if you don’t bring enough of one ingredient? You would need to make another trip. It’s better to have those down here.”

  Ziven grumbled and complained about transferring the scale and mixer. When he returned, he and Zetta made a big production out of moving the heavy equipment. I ignored them by examining the glass ingredients for any foreign substances or contaminants. Dipping a trowel full of lime into the water, I checked for Brittle Talc. It would turned purple if tainted. No change.

  When the glassmakers finished, I told them the sand recipe. “Forty percent Krystal’s white sand, forty percent local sand…” I scooped a handful of coarse yellow-and-brown grains from the beach. Compared to the tiny white granules, the beach sand appeared oversize. “Fifteen percent Bloodgood red sand and five percent lava flakes.”

  Ziven and Zetta didn’t move. I handed a shovel to each.

  “How do we measure out percentages?” Ziven asked.

  I blinked at him. He asked about a fundamental skill. “By weight. The kiln can hold one hundred pounds of mix. After you put in the lime and soda ash, the sand ingredients will balance out the rest.”

  Comprehension failed to light their faces.

  “You’ll need eleven pounds of lime and fourteen pounds of ash, which is twenty-five pounds. So to figure out how much Krystal sand, you’ll need to take forty percent of seventy-five pounds, which is thirty pounds.”

  “Why didn’t you just say thirty pounds of white in the first place?” Ziven asked.

  “She’s showing off,” Zetta said.

  As they shoveled and weighed the sand, I calculated the rest. “Eleven and a quarter pounds of Bloodgood red and three and three-quarters pounds of lava flakes.” I pressed my lips together before I could say more. My father taught me how to calculate percentages into weights before I could read. All his recipes used percentages, as did most glassmakers’, since kilns were built in different sizes, depending on the need. If the Stormdancers bought a kiln that could hold a hundred and fifty pounds, then the ingredient weights would all change.

  I worried about their qualifications, remembering Helen’s comments about these two. At least they knew to mix the substances together. The drum mixer resembled a metal barrel laid on its side. Inside the container were fins to help stir. After securing the lid, a handle turned the drum to blend everything.

  But when they began pulling the wheeled cart, I couldn’t conceal my amusement. By their fury, I knew any chance for a civil relationship was gone.

  “You could help. Or are you too valuable?” Ziven asked.

  “Experts don’t get their hands dirty,” Zetta said.

  She’d pushed me too far. I’d had enough verbal abuse.

  “Do you want to keep your jobs?” I asked them.

  They shared a glance.

  “It’s an easy question even for you. Either yes or no.”

  “Yes,” Ziven said.

  “Then shut your mouths and listen to me. Making the orbs is vital. Screwing up means killing Stormdancers. Right now, I’m the only person in the world who knows how they’re made.” I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “I don’t care if you like me or not. But if you utter one more snide comment, you’re both fired.”

  “You can’t—” Zetta clamped her mouth shut when her brother slapped her arm.

  I waited, but they remained silent. Good. “Now think. Wheeling a hundred pounds is doable on a flat surface, but what happens when you try to pull it up a slope?”

  “It’s harder?” Ziven answered.

  “Right. How did these wagons of supplies arrive?”

  They both looked at the stable. Quartz’s and Moonlight’s heads poked out.

  “They’re not our horses,” Ziven said. “Ours go home after we bring all the supplies in.”

  “All you need to do is ask.”

  “The owners?”

  “The horses.” I found a harness hanging in an empty stall. “Quartz, will you help us?”

  She nickered and I secured the leather straps and attached the cart. Within minutes, we arrived at the kiln’s cave. After we unloaded the sand mixture into the kiln’s cauldron, I suggested they blend another batch and store it up here. They had plenty of time as the melt wouldn’t be ready for another eight to twelve hours.

  They agreed to my idea and I helped them prepare and deliver a second batch. Once we finished, I led Quartz back to the stables. I rubbed her down and fed her a few treats. My stomach rumbled. The sun hovered above the horizon, painting the sky with yellow, orange and red streaks.

  I headed to the main cave. Kade wasn’t on the rocks. I found him talking with the other Stormdancers. They sat around the cook fire with Leif and Skippy. All held bowls of steaming white liquid. Even Leif.

  “I thought you didn’t like seafood,” I said to him.

  He slurped the juice straight from his bowl. “Fish. I said I didn’t like fish. This is soup.”

  “There are clams in it,” Raiden said. He ladled a bowl for me.

  “Clams aren’t fish.” Leif helped himself to another portion.

  “I can cook fish so it tastes like steak,” Raiden said.

  “Really?” An avid glow lit Leif’s eyes. He and Raiden launched into an intense discussion about cooking.

  I found a seat next to Kade. He draped an arm around my shoulders but didn’t pause in his conversation. Prin looked at us in surprise. She continued to study us with a speculative frown. Wick leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed and an empty bowl in his lap. Tebbs perched on the edge of her seat, listening intently.

  “…a few big storms are forming out at sea, but nothing will come close for a few days,” Kade said.

  “Then why do we have to come here so early?” Tebbs asked. She had tried to catch Prin’s gaze, but gave up when Prin wouldn’t glance at her.

  Tebbs’s rookie question confirmed my guess at her young age.

  “There have been early season storms in the past, so it’s always prudent to be prepared and ready early,” Kade said. “Hopefully, the first storm will be mild and you can dance with Prin.” He smiled at Tebbs. She blushed and glanced down.

  “Is this your first storm season?” I asked her.

  “I was supposed to start my training last time, but with the orbs breaking and…” She played with the hem on her linen tunic. “Well. You know.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, my powers came in much later than most of the others. Mother said I purposely ignored them before.” At this point Tebbs realized she babbled. “Yes. This will be my first time.” She settled her expression, trying to appear mature.

  “Do the Stormdancer powers begin at puberty, too?” Usually, magical ability flared to life at the same time as a child’s body matured to an adult. For most, the transition complicated an already difficult time period, and a person’s power could be overlooked at first. It was one of the reasons for Irys Jewelrose’s annual trip to find and assess potential magicians. The threat of a young mag
ician becoming uncontrolled and flaming out was another reason for her trip. Flameout would damage the power source, creating trouble for all the magicians.

  “Yes, but there are exceptions,” Kade answered. “Heli could make a dust devil when she was ten and Tebbs, here, didn’t realize it was her mood affecting the weather instead of the other way around until she was eighteen.”

  I thought of Master Jewelrose’s annual task again and groaned. Everyone looked at me. “Why didn’t I think of it before? Kade, you can use one of my glass messengers to find new Stormdancers.”

  “That’s a great idea!” He beamed.

  I suppressed the impulse to kiss him. “I’ll make you a bunch when we’re done with the orbs.”

  “You don’t need a special glass mixture?” he asked.

  “Nope. Any glass will do.”

  “You can’t do that,” Skippy said.

  I noticed he had been listening ever since Kade mentioned the storms out at sea.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “The Council has set up protocols for obtaining a messenger. He’ll have to put in a request to the local station, who will pass it on to Councilor Stormdance, who will present all requests to the messenger committee, who then decides who to approve,” Skippy explained as if I should already be aware of this chain of command.

  And he was right. I should be informed about what the Council did with my messengers. No wonder Vasko Cloud Mist was so happy to have his own; by giving him three I had bypassed a season’s worth of paperwork. It explained why Pazia had asked me if it was allowed.

  The other Stormdancers peered at us in confusion, except Wick, who snored. Kade enlightened them about my messengers.

  “…if you see the glow inside, then you have magical power.”

  “But aren’t they the things that let you communicate from far away?” Prin asked.

  “Yes. They have many uses.” Unmistakable pride filled Kade’s voice.

  Prin blinked at me. “You make them? You’re the glass magician?”

  “Why are you so surprised?” Kade asked.