Shattered Glass
A Glass Series novella
Maria V. Snyder
Maria V. Snyder
Contents
Introduction
Shattered Glass
Shattered Glass
Excerpt: Dawn Study
1. Yelena
2. Valek
Acknowledgments
Also by Maria V. Snyder
About the Author
Praise
Introduction
While trying to teach her adopted daughter, Reema, how to work with molten glass, Opal receives a letter from Master Magician Zitora Cowan requesting Opal's immediate help. Zitora resigned from the Sitian Council over two years ago to search for her lost sister, and no one has heard from her since. The letter is probably a trick, but Opal refuses to pass up the opportunity to help her mentor, who may be in genuine trouble. Good thing Opal isn't that easy to fool. With her two soldier friends Nic and Eve providing backup, the three travel to a small town in the Jewelrose Clan. But can they rescue the Master Magician without being caught in the same trap?
Part I
Shattered Glass
A Glass Series novella by Maria V. Snyder
Shattered Glass
Heat pours from the kiln, fanning the skin on my face. I open the kiln’s door just enough to insert the pontil iron. A super bright orange glow spears my vision as I dip the iron’s tip into the cauldron and twirl it, gathering a slug of molten glass.
Closing the door with a hip, I turn and place the iron on the rails of the gaffer’s bench where my adopted daughter Reema sits. Her blond corkscrew curls are pulled back into a ponytail and her brow is creased in concentration.
“Keep the iron spinning or the glass will drip,” I instruct over the roar of the fires in the kilns. All four of them are in operation, which means four times the noise and heat.
“Then what?” she asks.
“Use the tweezers to pinch and pull the glass.” I gesture to the row of tools lined along the bench.
She picks up the metal tweezers. They appear overly large in her small hand. Though not as small as they were when I first met her almost two years ago. Soon she’d be tall enough to gather a slug on her own. An inner warmth spreads through my chest that has nothing to do with the kilns and everything to do with the sudden desire to press a kiss to her sweaty forehead. I suppress it, knowing it would result in an irritated eye roll.
“What should I make?” she asks.
I shrug. “Whatever speaks to you.”
Reema huffs in exasperation. “I told you before; it doesn’t speak to me!”
“Take your time and listen. But don’t take too much time, it cools fast and will soon be too hard to manipulate.”
That comment earns me a glare, but I smile sweetly at her—a trick I learned from my good friend Janco. Reema frowns and pokes at the glass with the tweezers. Despite the waves of heat radiating from the slug, the glass resists the metal.
I point to the glory hole located on the side of the nearest kiln. “Reheat it until it’s pulsing with orange light and try again.”
Reema hops off the bench and jams the iron into the hole.
“Not so far, you only want to heat the glass, not the metal or it will burn your hands. And keep it spinning.”
“Opal.”
My name slices through the din, and I glance up. Devlen gestures me away from the main work area of the factory. I join my husband outside my office. His strong features and blue eyes never fail to make my blood sizzle.
“Why are you teaching Reema?” he asks. “She does not have the patience to work with glass.”
“Exactly.”
“Ah. You are hoping to teach her patience.” He gazes at our daughter.
Reema yanks on the glass, making…tentacles? She flings the tweezers down and storms over to the glory hole. Once again shoving it in too far.
A smile tugs at Devlen’s lips. “Good luck with that.”
“Is this why you called me over?”
The humor fades from his dark face and is replaced with concern. “No. A messenger is here and he insists on delivering the message only to you.”
Oh. It’s odd, but not worrying…I hope. I call to my assistant, Lee, to watch over Reema and ensure she doesn’t burn herself or set the place on fire before I follow Devlen into my office where the messenger is waiting. He’s an older man who looks like he has missed a few too many meals. Clutching a letter in his bony fingers, he glances at me then eyes Devlen.
Tall with broad shoulders, dark hair and the powerful build of a Sandseed warrior, Devlen can intimidate almost everyone.
But the man’s voice is steady when he says, “This is a confidential message for Opal Cowan.”
“I am her husband,” Devlen responds.
“Good for you. But my instructions are clear. We must be alone.”
“Go on.” I shoo Devlen out. He knows I will share any news with him.
When the door shuts, the messenger studies me. I resist the urge to squirm under his intense scrutiny. My long brown hair is frizzy and clinging to my sweaty neck. And my plain tan cotton tunic and pants are more for functionality for a glass factory than for fashion.
“You match the physical description I was provided,” he says. “Now for confirmation. Where did you go on your first mission for the Master Magicians?”
An odd question and I wonder if this message is from Valek, the spymaster for the Commander in Ixia. “I traveled to The Cliffs on the coast.”
“And what did you discover?”
“That the glass orbs were being sabotaged.”
“You are indeed Opal Cowan.” He hands me the letter.
“Oh good, I was beginning to worry.” I snark.
The man fails to see the humor, and I don’t bother to correct him—I’m Opal Cowan Sandseed now. I tip him extra, and he leaves. Devlen returns as I examine the envelope. Worn and smudged with dirt it has either been in his possession a long time or has traveled a long distance. There is nothing written on the outside. The wax seal is also devoid of decorations. I break the wax and extract a single piece of parchment. Ignoring the lines crossing the page, I skip to the signature at the bottom. I grope for my chair in shock.
Devlen is by my side in a heartbeat. “What is the matter?”
“It’s a letter from Zitora.” She retired from the Sitian Council two and a half years ago to search for her older sister, Zelene, who’d been missing for ten years. No one has heard from Zitora since she left.
“What does it say?”
“Oh.” I read it aloud. “Dear Opal, I hope you are well. I’m in dire need of your special naturalist services. You did a terrific job curing Councilor Tama Moon with your leafy teas, and I can’t trust anyone else to heal my sister. I’m in Tsavorite, located about two days southwest of Kohinoor. Please come right away. Your cousin, Zitora Cowan.” I blink—the note doesn’t make any sense.
“Is that written in code?” Devlen asks, peering over my shoulder at the page.
Good question. “There must be another meaning.” I reread the letter, paying attention to the individual words. “’Dire need’ might mean she’s in trouble.”
“’Special naturalist services’ could be referring to your immunity to magic,” he says.
“But then she mentions me curing Councilor Tama Moon with leafy teas. Yelena helped cure Tama not me. Plus don’t you think it’s odd she didn’t make a big deal about finding her sister?”
“Yes, but it sounds like she is sick. Too sick for Zitora’s skills.”
“So why send for me and not a healer? I can’t heal anyone. And if it’s dire, then she might be dead by now.” A sobering thought.
“Maybe ‘leafy teas’ is a refe
rence to Leif’s concoctions?”
The passage—“I can’t trust anyone else”—worries me. Something’s wrong, and she needs me. But…Zitora wants me to pretend to be a healer. Not a magical healer, but one like Leif—who uses herbs and plants. I share my guess with Devlen.
“It is an ambush,” Devlen says.
“Why do you think that?”
“She is the second most powerful magician in Sitia. She would not need help.”
“Unless someone is using Curare or a null shield.”
“How many people do you think have access to those? Especially in…” He peers at the parchment. “Tsavorite? Have you even heard of it?”
“No. But that just means it’s small. They probably wouldn’t have Curare, but magicians who can construct null shields do travel. Besides, I’m the reason Zitora retired. I have to help her.”
Devlen crouches in front of me. “Opal, magicians are disappearing throughout Sitia. The Commander lied about executing Owen Moon four and a half years ago, and now Owen is conspiring with the Commander—which means trouble for us all--and there is unusual activity at the Moon Clan’s garrison. This letter is an obvious trick to lure you from safety.”
“But I’m not a magician.”
“You are immune to magic, and you create the magic detectors. Rogue magicians like Owen would be happy if you never make another one.”
I glance out my office window. Reema is arguing with Lee. Owen Moon threatened her life last season in order to influence Yelena. For her protection, Reema spent a month at the Commander’s castle learning how to fight and returned with a saddle bag full of weapons—I still need to have a word with Valek over that. However, Owen arrived at the castle a few days before Reema left. Thank fate she wasn’t prevented from leaving and arrived home safe.
“Owen had the perfect opportunity to ensure my cooperation a month ago, but he allowed Reema to leave. Besides, I doubt he’d be this subtle,” I say.
Devlen is unconvinced. “There are plenty of others who would benefit.”
To delay more arguments, I rummage in my desk’s drawers until I find a map of Sitia. Devlen straightens as I spread it out. It takes a few moments to pinpoint the area in the southern region of the Jewelrose Clan’s lands—about a fifteen-day journey on Sandseed horseback to Kohinoor, then another two days to Tsavorite.
“Bruns Jewelrose hired an assassin to kill Yelena,” Devlen says.
“I doubt he lives in Tsavorite. Unless you’re implying the entire Jewelrose Clan is suspect because of one man?”
“Please do not go,” Devlen says.
And there it is. He would never order me to stay—that isn’t his way. Devlen gives me advice, but he has supported all my decisions no matter how crazy and aided me with all my schemes no matter how dangerous. Without complaint. I should do this for him, but I can’t. Even if this is a trap, there is that chance Zitora is truly in trouble and needs my help. I’d never be able to sleep without at least trying to find her.
He sees the answer in my face. The inch long scar on his neck whitens as he tenses. “I am coming with you.”
“Reema—”
“Can stay with your parents,” he says.
“She already missed too much school and she’s finally doing well!” Little scamp made a bargain with us. If she earns high marks in school, we’ll allow her to continue training with the weapons. I really need to have that talk with Valek. “Plus you need to keep her out of trouble.”
He wilts. “Please take someone with you.”
I consider. It’s a good idea to have backup. “All right.”
Devlen wraps me in a tight hug. Resting my head on his shoulder, I breathe in his spicy scent. It reminds me of the Avibian Plains on a warm sunny day.
“Who are you going to ask?” His words vibrate on my cheek.
“I could send a damsel-in-distress call to Janco, he’d enjoy that, but he’s probably busy dealing with Owen and his goons in Ixia.”
“No probably about it. They are going to need all the help they can get.”
Which also rules out the other agents in Valek’s corps. Who else? I comb through a list of friends and colleagues. “I’ll ask Nic and Eve.”
“Oh yeah, it’s a trap. Big time.” Nic passes Zitora’s letter to his partner Eve. “Don’t even bother to pack.”
Eve scans the page and looks up, swiping her short, strawberry blond hair from her face. “You’re going regardless.” It isn’t a question.
We’re sitting in the main office area of Fulgor’s security headquarters. The noise and bustle of the other officers fill the room, but Nic and Eve’s desks are tucked in a corner, and no one disturbs us.
“Yes, I’m going. I have to.”
“Didn’t Dev tell you about the murdered magician?” Nic asks.
“The ones up in Lapeer? The three working with Owen?”
“Nah.” Nic waves a meaty hand. “Good riddance to them. No, the guy we found yesterday. Someone from the Magician’s Keep.”
Unease stirs in my stomach. “No, he didn’t.”
“That’s because Devlen doesn’t know. It’s classified until we notify the Keep.” Eve shoots him a glare that would make most people quail with terror.
Nic ignores it. “Opal needs to know.”
“Are there more?” Now he is scaring me.
“Just gossip and rumors,” Eve says.
“Yeah, well tell that to the dead guy. I don’t think gossip and rumors punctured his throat.”
Eve leans back in her chair. “Fine. But don’t cry to me when the captain docks your pay.”
Again Nic waves her off. He turns to me. There is no spark of humor in his brown eyes. With his many-times-broken nose and black bottle-brush bristle of hair, he looks like a guy you don’t ever want to piss off. “There’s a new player in Sitia called the Cartel. They’re a group of influential and powerful business owners, and they’ve taken control of the garrison and the government if you believe all the rumors, which I don’t.” He says this last bit to Eve. “But they’re actively recruiting magicians to work for them. If a magician resists…” Nic pulls his finger along his throat.
The last part sounds a bit far-fetched. “What are they planning?”
“They claim it’s to protect Sitia from an Ixian invasion. They want to train soldiers and magicians how to fight together. From a military standpoint, it’s a great strategy. Well, except for killing magicians.”
“There’s no way the Master Magicians will let it continue,” I say.
“From what I hear, they don’t have the resources to stop it.”
Not good. “That gives me another reason to meet up with Zitora. Sitia needs her.”
Nic groans.
“Besides why would they go to all that trouble to set a trap for me so far away?” I ask. “If they are in control of the garrison, then they could send a squad of soldiers to my glass factory and pick me up at any time.”
“Congratulations, Nic, your attempt to dissuade her failed miserably,” Eve says.
“And you can do better?” he asks her.
“I know not to waste my time.” Eve meets my gaze. Anticipation shines in her light blue eyes. “Besides hanging out with Opal has always been…fun.”
“Fun is not the word I’d use,” Nic grumbles.
“Does that mean you’ll both come with me?” I ask.
“Only if Captain Alden gives us permission.” Nic looks smug. “Good luck with that. We’ve been very busy lately.”
“Come in,” Captain Alden calls.
I open the door to his office. It’s located in the new wing of headquarters. As the commander of Fulgor’s entire security force, he finally has a space to match his rank.
He smiles when he sees me, but makes a show of glancing over my shoulder.
“Should I get another chair?” he asks as I shake his hand. It’s callused from all those years training with a sword.
“Uh…no…why?”
“When you vi
sit, trouble usually follows. I thought I get it a chair now and save time.”
“Ha ha. Real funny.” I deadpan.
Alden gestures for me to sit. “Tell me I’m wrong. That you’re here for a friendly hello.”
Guilt flairs. “You’re not wrong. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. It’s the nature of the job. What’s going on?”
I show him the letter and fill him in.
“I agree with Nic; it’s a trap.”
I draw breath to argue, but he holds up his hand. “However, I’ve just received some disturbing orders from Councilor Tama Moon and think, even though the chances are slim to none that Zitora is there, you three should check it out.”
My reaction is mixed, while glad to be given permission, I’m concerned about his use of the word disturbing. “Can you elaborate about those orders?”
He glances at his desk as if considering what to tell me. An older man, his gray hair is regulation short, but strength still radiates from a powerful build.
Sighing, he says, “I shouldn’t, but, by the time you return, things will be different, and you’ll need to know. The Sitian Council has given the military jurisdiction over all the northern clans.”
Wow. They evoked martial law. That’s big. No… That’s huge! “Does the Sitian Council believe the Commander is going to invade Sitia?” They must.
“I’ve no idea what they believe or why the Council has made this decision. All I know is they military is now in charge of security.”
“What’s going to happen to you and your officers?”
“We will be incorporated into the military ranks. And there are rumors the Council is going to start drafting people into the army.”
My stomach twists as I imagine Devlen fighting a war against Ixia. Thank fate my adopted son, Teegan, is too young to be conscripted. He should be safe at the Magician’s Keep. For now. I wonder if I should send him south to my parents’ house in Booruby.
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