“What’s going on over there?” I asked, pointing to the southern side.
“Same thing,” Walsh said. “We use both sides. The pearls pay for supplies. A person can only eat so many oysters.”
“How many people live here?” Leif asked.
“Two hundred fifty-three and two halves.”
“Halves?” I asked.
“Two ladies are expecting babies in a few months. We count them as halves until they’re born.” He beamed with pride.
I noticed a few men standing around. Unlike the workers, they were armed.
Walsh noticed my gaze. “Guards,” he said. “Pearls are expensive. We’ve had thieves and pirates steal them from us.” He tsked. “It’s why we built the wall and have armed men on the beach.”
His comments were reasonable. Leif walked ahead of us. I guessed he sniffed for the wild magician. He wandered onto the beach, then turned south.
Walsh intercepted him before he moved too far away. “The best way to meet all my family is for you and your companions to stay for dinner. Everyone comes to the dining hall. And you’re welcome to stay overnight if it gets too late. We have a few empty cottages just in case.” He smiled, revealing stained teeth.
Skippy and I looked to Leif. He nodded, agreeing to dinner.
“Wonderful. Everyone will be so pleased.” The skin around Walsh’s mouth stretched wider, resembling a grinning skull. “You can tell us news from the Citadel. We haven’t had visitors in…” His gaze drifted to the guards as if the memory of the last visitors hadn’t gone well. “A while. Brand,” he called. One of the guards left his post and joined us. “Please show them to our guest cottage. Also point out the dining hall and washhouse. We ring a dinner bell, so you won’t miss it. Make yourselves at home.” Walsh gave us a jaunty wave and returned to his office.
Brand played tour guide. Another cluster of buildings was located behind Walsh’s office. He jabbed a thick finger at them. “Food’s in the blue one and the baths are in the yellow.”
Good thing he mentioned the colors as all the structures looked the same—one-story tall, wooden and a basic rectangular shape. In other words, boring.
“What’s the red one?” I asked.
“That’s the school.”
“And the green?” Leif asked.
“A recreation room and common room. The gray one is storage and an infirmary, which is mainly used for the children’s cuts and scrapes. There’s a birthing room, though. We have our own midwife.”
The stark compound lacked personality. Pure function. No gardens or flowers or artwork. At least none visible. Perhaps they decorated their cottages. As we entered into the guest quarters, I thought perhaps not.
Plain walls, drab-colored blankets and practical table and chairs.
“The dinner bell will ring in two hours,” Brand said. He left.
We waited a few minutes, making sure he was out of range before saying anything.
“This is…” I cast about for the right word.
“Weird,” Leif said. “I’m getting all kinds of emotions from these people. But they don’t feel right.”
“Did you sense the wild magician?” Skippy asked.
“No, but I haven’t gotten close to everyone yet.”
“What did you mean by right?” I asked.
“When outsiders arrive, the reaction is usually curiosity mixed with a little apprehension and a bit of excitement. These people are afraid and worried. Also there’s a sense of urgency and secrecy. They could be hiding the magician, and we could be causing the fear. But no curiosity. No excitement. Not even from the children.”
Another oddity struck me. “Did you notice their clothing all matched? It reminded me of Ixia where they are required to wear uniforms. Except in Ixia, they use color. Here it’s all tans, grays and white, as if the life has been bleached from this place.”
“Why does it matter?” Skippy asked. “They’re not doing anything illegal. We’re here to find the magician. How this family chooses to live and dress is their own business. Not ours.”
I hated to agree with him, but he had a point.
“I could be reading more into their reactions than is there,” Leif said. “Just keep an eye out during dinner and listen.”
Dinner was a quiet affair despite the full tables. The dining room lacked ornamentation. Walsh’s family lined up and pushed plates along a long counter. Servers standing over containers of food spooned helpings onto the dishes.
Walsh had greeted us at the door and escorted us inside. He sent his assistant to fill plates for us even though we protested. The taste of oysters tainted all the food, even the bread. We sat at Walsh’s table with his brother, Fallon, Fallon’s wife and two daughters.
The youngest, Gia, sat next to me. She looked about eight years old. Her long blond hair had been woven into many thin braids, which were pulled back into a ponytail.
Walsh prattled on about the family and their accomplishments. The rest of the diners spoke in low tones.
I asked Gia what was her favorite subject in school.
Her eyes bulged like a fish out of water. She shot Walsh a terrified glance.
He gave her an indulgent smile. “Answer her, she won’t bite.”
With reluctance, Gia said, “I like math, but I like swimming the best.”
“Do you dive for oysters?” I asked.
She nodded.
Walsh said, “She’s a little fish. We can’t keep her out of the water. She dives deeper and stays down longer than most of the boys.”
Gia dipped her head as if embarrassed.
“That’s wonderful,” I said. Then I leaned close and whispered, “I’m not a good swimmer at all. The last time I was in the sea, the waves pushed me around like a bath toy.”
A smile flashed on her face. It was gone in a second, and I realized that none of the so-called Bloodroses smiled except Walsh. But even his felt fake as if he tried to sell us something we didn’t need.
“What do you do for fun?” I asked her.
She sought Walsh’s approval again. “We bake bread. We sew clothes. We tend the garden.”
All chores.
Before I could ask her another question, Walsh said, “Tell us news from the Citadel. Is Master Featherstone still First Magician or has some young hotshot passed the Master-level test?”
Wow. They’ve been out of the loop for at least five years. Leif filled him in on Roze Featherstone’s attempt to overthrow the Sitian Council with her Daviian Warpers. No one in the whole room said a word. Even Walsh remained silent for a few moments after Leif finished the story.
“My, my,” Walsh said. “And this…Soulfinder is a Zaltana? One of your cousins?”
“My sister,” Leif said.
“That’s impressive.” Walsh turned to me. “Were you there for the Warper Battle?”
“Not the battle, but I helped with the…cleanup.”
“How about you?” Walsh asked Skippy.
“No. I was on assignment in Fulgor.” Skippy sounded petulant, as if he’d rather have been at the battle.
“Lucky you,” Leif said. “It was close. Twelve magicians died fighting the Warpers.” His sobering words failed to change Skippy’s expression.
“Are you also a magician?” Walsh asked me.
“Yes.”
“Opal’s a glass magician,” Leif said. He pulled one of my messengers from his pocket.
The sea horse glowed with an inner blue fire. Its happy song vibrated in my chest.
“Interesting. What makes it shine?” Walsh asked.
At least he’d told the truth about being a magician.
“Magic,” Leif explained. “Trapped inside.”
Gia crinkled her forehead in confusion. “But I don’t see a light, Uncle.”
Fallon, his wife and other daughter couldn’t see it, either.
“Only magicians can see the glow. May I show it to the rest of your family?” Leif asked.
A calculating coldnes
s slid behind Walsh’s eyes. “Please do.” He watched Leif present the sea horse to the others.
Aside from the general bewilderment, no one admitted to seeing the magic.
When Leif returned, Walsh said, “Now do you believe me?”
“It was never a question of belief,” Leif said. “It’s just that in the past few years, we’ve discovered magical powers in people who would have been passed over. For example, Opal’s magic. She was assessed by Master Jewelrose, and Fourth Magician found no indications of potential. But Opal’s power is rather unique, and these—” he held the seahorse up “—glass creations can find those with…latent magical powers.”
“They must speed up the process of finding the fledglings,” Walsh said. He stared at the sea horse with a speculative purse of his thin colorless lips. “It would be a handy device to have.”
“You don’t need one now.” Leif gestured to the rest of the dining room. “I’ve assessed all your family members. Unless some are missing?”
“No. All are here.” Walsh straightened for a moment, then leaned back. Lacing his fingers together, he rested them in his lap. “You’re right. I’ve no need for it.”
His body language contradicted his words. Considering how worried he was about pirates and thieves, I suspected he lied to us about his people. A few guards must have been out patrolling the grounds.
While we finished dinner, I glanced around, counting tables. I estimated two hundred and forty people were in the room.
Walsh escorted us to the guest cottage. “It’s been a lovely evening, but we wake at dawn to harvest the oysters. Please feel free to avail yourselves of the bathhouse. I’ll instruct Brand to stay nearby in case you need anything.” He said good-night and left.
Leif waited a few minutes before calling us over. We discussed the odd dinner.
“He lied about everyone being in the room,” Leif said.
I agreed, telling him my estimate.
“Shoot. Wish I’d thought of that.” Leif shook his head. “I used magic and he knew it.”
“What’s next?” I asked.
“We’ll avail ourselves of his hospitality and take a look around.”
Leif’s plan didn’t account for Brand being so…helpful. The guard led us to the bathhouse, gave us towels and robes to use and waited for us to finish. On the way back to the cottage, he talked about how self-sufficient the family was and how they only bought a few raw materials from the market. He lit the lanterns inside. Telling us good-night, he left. I doubted he went far.
“And now?” I asked Leif.
“Plan B.” He crossed to the bed and wiggled under the blankets.
I combed my wet hair. Wishing my clothes were cleaner, I prepared to go to sleep.
Skippy glanced from Leif to me and back. “Plan B?” he asked.
“Wait until the middle of the night, and sneak out to investigate,” Leif said, but kept his eyes closed.
“What about Brand?”
“Opal, do you have your goodies with you?” Leif asked.
“Of course.”
“Then we’ll send Brand a little present to keep him occupied. No worries, Skippy. Opal and I have done this a million times.”
“A million. Right.” Skippy didn’t sound convinced. “Just so I know. How many real times?”
Leif’s answer was a soft snore.
I thought back. We had used my glass spiders and bees when the Storm Thieves attacked us. And one of my spiders had saved my sister. “Two.”
“Wonderful.”
I detected a lack of sincerity in Skippy’s reply.
Leif shook my shoulder. “Opal, wake up.”
I peeked through heavy eyelids. Darkness filled the cottage. I swatted at his hand. “Go away.”
“Come on. We need to move. Now.”
The urgency in his voice roused me. “What happened?”
“Walsh has done more than lie to us.”
“How—”
“Didn’t you feel it?” Skippy asked me with an incredulous tone.
“Feel what?”
“The wild magician flashed with an unbelievable amount of power so close I can taste it,” Leif said.
18
BRAND NO LONGER HOVERED NEAR OUR COTTAGE, BUT TWO NEW guards circled the building. I crushed six glass spiders and sent them to distract our guards.
A yelp followed a cry. “…see the size of that—”
“Over there! Huge sand spiders! We’d better…” The ring of steel sounded, masking the guard’s words. “…poisonous bite. Get the one on the left, I’ll take right.”
As soon as the guards were lured away, we slipped out. Leif headed straight for the long building on the south coast—the one Walsh claimed mirrored the oyster operation on the north side.
We snuck around from the back. Leif held his machete and I clasped the orb Kade had given to me. Trepidation pulsed in my chest. The memories of how horrible Crafty had felt when I siphoned her magic replayed in my mind. Would I be able to inflict such pain again?
The building did indeed resemble the other, but instead of the oyster tables a long wooden chute occupied the work space. Scattered around the floor were boxes with wire-mesh bottoms. The structure was also thicker than the northern one, with an enclosed section running the entire length.
Leif bypassed all the equipment and aimed for a door near the southeast edge of the building. Lantern light shone from a row of small windows near the roof. We pressed against the wall. Loud voices arguing inside were punctuated with sounds of a scuffle.
The door burst open, spilling light and people. Two men dragged a struggling young man out. Walsh followed them. He spotted us and seemed more resigned than surprised.
“I found the magician you seek,” Walsh said. “He’s been hiding from me, and has, until tonight, flashed his wild power when I was away.”
“We need—”
Walsh interrupted Leif. “I know. You’ve come to terminate him. Let me talk with him first. See how bad it is.”
The young man stopped fighting his captors. He gaped at Leif in sudden fear.
“We don’t need to kill him,” Leif said. “We have…another way to neutralize his power.”
“Really? How?” Walsh asked eagerly.
“I need to assess the situation. Perhaps we can go somewhere private?”
He snapped back to business. “I’ll talk to him, then you can assess all you want.” Walsh turned to the guards. “Take him to my office.”
The men pulled the adolescent away. At least his terror had transformed into confusion.
“Join me after breakfast,” Walsh said to us.
“What if he escapes?” Skippy asked.
“He won’t.”
Walsh didn’t lie this time. The young man sat in a chair in front of his desk. He rested his head in his hands, but snapped it straight when we entered.
We arrived just after breakfast. The dining room had buzzed louder than at dinner. I had wondered if the change was due to Walsh’s absence or the news of last night’s excitement.
Walsh invited us to sit down as if we gathered to discuss the weather. I studied the wild magician. His shaggy black hair hung over his eyes and ears. He wore only a pair of gray short pants. No shoes. Tanned skin covered lean muscles. I guessed he was one of the swimmers and perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old. Wariness, fear and a bit of defeat emanated from him.
If Walsh was tired, he didn’t show it. “Quinn has been telling me quite the story. He made a big mistake not coming to me right away, but I think, with some hard work, he can control his magic.”
“Last night—” Leif tried.
“He pulled a lot of power, but no ripples. He released it back into the power source without using it,” Walsh said.
Leif considered.
“Look what I have already taught him. Quinn, show these magicians what you can do.”
Skippy braced. Leif signaled me to be ready. I removed the orb from my pack. Quinn drew in
a breath as if he prepared for a deep dive. The teacup in front of Walsh rose into the air, hovered a moment and then returned to the table with a rattle.
“Not bad,” Leif said. “But when he flashed fourteen days ago, he was on the verge of flaming out.”
“He’s managed to gain control since then. And now that I’m aware of his powers, I can teach him.”
“I need to contact the Master Magicians.” Leif pulled out the sea-horse messenger.
“That will take weeks. As the Council’s representative, surely you can make a decision.”
Walsh didn’t know about the messengers. He watched in confusion as Leif peered into the glass.
“But, isn’t that—”
“The magician finder? Yes.” Skippy interrupted Walsh. “Opal’s glass has a dual purpose.” He explained it to the leader.
I squirmed. As more people knew about my powers, the more uncomfortable I grew.
“Amazing,” Walsh said. He studied me as if appraising the quality of a pearl.
Averting my gaze, I met Quinn’s. He too watched me. And a sense of familiarity flushed through me. Odd.
“What else can you do, Miss Opal?” Walsh asked.
The unpleasant feeling of being examined crawled along my skin. I lied. “Nothing else.”
“Really? Then why are you holding a Stormdancer’s orb?”
Caught, I cast about for an excuse.
“She was helping the Stormdancers’ glassmakers when we received the order to find Quinn,” Leif said. He’d just finished his mental communication with the Master Magicians in the Keep. “Master Bain is most impressed with Quinn’s display last night.” He changed the subject. “He would like Quinn to come with us to the Keep to learn more about his powers.”
A brief joyful expression lit the young man’s face before settling back into anxiety.
“Absolutely not,” Walsh said. “We are a close family.”
“It’s not your decision,” Leif said.
“Oh yes it is. Quinn isn’t eighteen yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. If the Council believes it’s in his best interest to train at the Keep, then it’s theirs.” Leif’s posture stiffened. “But, I’d rather ask Quinn first.”
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