Читать книгу Glass Collection: Storm Glass / Sea Glass / Spy Glass - Maria V. Snyder - Страница 13

THE ORB BOUNCED on the sand and rolled a few feet. Horrified cries filled the air until the onlookers realized the orb hadn’t shattered.

Kade blanched, but he hadn’t thrown his hands up in protection as Tal and Varun had done.

“Heck of a demonstration. Did you know it wouldn’t break or are you just suicidal?” Kade asked with a touch of sarcasm.

“Glass is an amazing material. Versatile, malleable and very strong.”

“But not indestructible.”

“No. I wouldn’t spike it on the hard ground, but no need to handle it like a delicate seashell.”

“Point taken.” Kade retrieved the orb.

“Nodin, can you get me one of your new orbs?”

“Sure.” Nodin’s voice sounded thin as if he had forgotten to breathe. He hurried away.

Zitora looked thoughtful and I wondered if she would reprimand me later. I wasn’t quite sure what had come over me. Perhaps it was in response to their reaction.

Nodin returned with an empty sphere. I flung it hard to the sand. Again everyone flinched. This time the orb cracked into three large pieces. I picked up a shard and examined the inside of the glass.

I wiped the sand from my hands. “Is the melt ready?”

Varun nodded.

“Okay. Let’s see how you make one of these.”

The entire group hiked up to the kiln’s cave to watch as the siblings worked in perfect unison. As the oldest, Indra sat at the gaffer’s bench while Nodin gathered the molten glass on the end of a blowing pipe and placed it in the holders on the bench. Varun handed tools to his sister as she worked.

During the process, Indra blew through the pipe and the ball expanded. Moving with a practiced quickness, Indra shaped the sphere. After multiple reheatings and blowings, she increased the size. When she was satisfied with the roundness, she signaled Nodin. He gathered a small dollop of melt onto the end of a pontil iron, making a punty. Attaching the punty onto the end of the sphere, Indra then dipped her tweezers into the bucket and dripped water onto the end of the blowpipe.

Cracks webbed and, with a hard tap of the tweezers, the glass sphere cracked off the pipe and was now held by the pontil iron. Nodin inserted the sphere back into the kiln to soften the glass. Indra expanded the little hole left by cracking off the pipe, and formed the sphere’s lip.

The piece was soon done and into the annealing oven. They did nothing wrong while crafting the piece. No actions that rendered it flawed. No magic, either.

“Make another one, but this time I want to blow into the pipe,” I said.

When Indra nodded to me, I bent, pursed my lips and blew through the pipe. Power from the source and not air from my lungs flowed through me and into the orb. It didn’t expand. The sphere stayed a fist-sized ball. Indra finished the piece and cracked it off into a heat resistant box.

“That didn’t work,” I said into the silence.

“But it glows,” Kade said. “You drew power.”

Except Zitora, everyone stared at my piece in confusion.

“Are you sure?” Nodin asked. “No offense, but it looks like a beginner’s effort.”

“I’ve trapped a thread of magic inside the ball,” I explained. “Only magicians can see the glow.”

“No.” Tal tensed and scowled. “That can’t be right. I can’t see the glow.”

“It’s been tested,” Zitora said. “And we’ve been using Opal’s glass animals to evaluate potential students for the Keep. If they can see the glow, we know they possess magical power.”

“No.” A stubborn line formed along Tal’s jaw. His eyes held fear.

“Tal.” Raiden placed a hand on the young man’s shoulders. “You tried to call the wind with no success. You’re past puberty—”

“No!” Tal shrugged Raiden’s hand off. “My father … My sister …”

“Strong Stormdancers, I know. Stormdancing is a rare gift, be thankful your sister—”

“I have it, too. It’s just … late. It’s just like the stubble on my chin, I don’t have enough power right now, but it’ll come. I know.” He left in a huff.

Raiden stared after him. We stood in an uncomfortable silence until an earsplitting crack of thunder announced the storm’s impending arrival. Donning thick leather gloves, Nodin picked up my orb and placed it into the annealer. Indra and Varun reorganized their tools.

Another rumble sounded. “The horses?” I asked.

“I’ll get them,” Raiden said. “Go down to the third level. That’s the storm cave where we keep all the necessary provisions.”

Zitora hurried to help Raiden.

I turned to go when Kade stopped me. He handed me his orb. The energy within it intensified. It pulsed and quivered, sending shooting pains along my arms.

“Keep it safe,” he said.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” He gestured to the sea.

“Why? You don’t have an orb.”

“I can still bleed off energy from the storm.”

“To where?”

He huffed with impatience. “Into the rocks.”

Before I could question him further, Kade said, “Ask Raiden, he’ll explain it.” He jogged down the trail.

The sea heaved and thrashed around the rocks all but obscuring them. Foamy spray whipped through the air. Yet wherever Kade stepped, the water smoothed and his hair stayed in place, not even bothered by a faint breeze.

Zitora’s voice cut through the storm’s rage, calling me. I rushed to catch up to her as she led Sudi into a low cave. Although the horse ducked her head, it was a tight fit. The top of the opening scraped along Sudi’s back.

Once inside, the cavern’s ceiling rose to twelve feet. The area was roomy, with horse stalls near the back and torches blazing along the walls. Cots and chairs had been set up, Zitora helped start a fire, and Raiden filled a pot with water.

“You shouldn’t bring that in here,” Raiden said, pointing at the orb in my hands.

“It would take a lot more than dropping it on the ground to break,” I said.

“I know it takes a hard blow to shatter it, but I don’t want my people to start being careless with them. Every Stormdance Clan member knows to handle the orbs with the utmost care and I want to keep it that way. Would you want to risk losing a life?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “There is a reason for the fear.”

Chagrined, I said, “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Next time, you might want to think before you act.”

Chastised, I stared at the floor.

“There is a reason for everything, Opal. You might not be able to figure it out, and time might have made us all forget it, but the reason is there all the same.” Raiden hung his pot over the fire. “Who’s hungry for clam stew?”

Raiden gave everyone who said, “me” a bucket of clams to open. I carried the orb to a safe spot in the back, setting it down on a pile of blankets. My hands and arms were numb from holding it. I covered it with another blanket to muffle its song. Between the roar of the storm and the trill of the orb, I would soon have a headache.

I checked on Quartz before returning to the fire. She munched her hay, appearing to be unconcerned about the weather. I scratched behind her left ear and she groaned in contentment.

When I sat down, Raiden handed me a dull knife and a handful of clams. I wouldn’t be allowed to partake in the meal without helping. I fumbled for a while, trying to pry open a shell. It didn’t take me long to find a rhythm, discovering another use for my strong hands.

Tal arrived soaking wet and sullen. He popped open a few clams without looking or speaking to anyone. The rest just ignored him.

Conversation focused on the orbs. I had been reluctant to state my theories before seeing how the glass was made, but when I examined the new orb in the firelight I felt more confident.

“Something is wrong with the mix,” I said, holding up my hand to stop the protest perched on Indra’s lips. “The recipe is right, but the sand, soda ash or lime isn’t.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Nodin asked.

“You could have gotten a bad batch.”

“Not helping.” Nodin tossed a clam into the pot.

“There is something in the mix that is causing the glass to be less dense. It can’t absorb the energy from the storm.”

“Which ingredient is deficient?” Indra asked.

“I don’t know. I could take samples of each to my father. He would be able to find out.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Raiden asked. “The storms are only going to get worse.”

“Kade is dancing now. Why can’t you have all your Stormdancers bleeding off energy until we figure out what is wrong?”

Tal snorted with derision. “All he’s doing is taking a small stick out of a big fire.”

“It’s dangerous. No other Stormdancer would do it. There’s no reason for the risk.” Raiden nodded at me as if we shared a private joke.

“The almighty Kade likes to show off,” Tal grumbled. “Rub it in.”

“He has his own reasons.” Raiden stirred the stew.

After we had tossed the empty shells to the beach, Nodin asked about my magic. “Tell me again how it works.”

Zitora and I explained about the two uses of my pieces.

“I can use this new one when my unicorn is spent,” Zitora said.

“No.” The word sprang from my throat before logic could be applied. “I want to keep it to … to compare it to … my other works.” Weak explanation, I knew, but this orb hummed like Kade’s sphere and I was reluctant to give it away.

“How is this different?” Nodin asked.

“It has a different … call.”

“Call?” Nodin cocked an eyebrow, inviting enlightenment.

“Each of my glass pieces calls to me. I don’t hear it like sound. I feel it.” I tapped my chest. “Inside. Whenever one of my animals is close to me, I know which one it is and where it is even if I can’t see it.”

He whistled. “You could feel this before you fell into the water and hit your head on the rocks? Right?”

“Yes.”

“Because it makes more sense the other way.”

“Nodin,” Raiden warned. “That’s enough.”

We ate our stew in relative silence. The keening of the wind echoed in the cavern and errant gusts fanned the flames. Soon a fine sea mist coated everything in the cave.

I didn’t sleep well. My cot felt as if it bobbed on a wild sea and the wind infiltrated my dreams, moaning a name over and over in my mind. Laced with grief and loss, the wind’s cry filled my heart with sadness.

The storm passed by daybreak. Kade arrived. Exhaustion lined his face and his clothes dripped with seawater.

“Fall in?” Tal asked with barely concealed spite.

If Kade noticed, he didn’t show it. He nodded. “Lost my grip for a second and was blown into the water.”

Raiden shot Kade a horrified look.

“Luckily I managed to construct a bubble and climb back onto the rocks.” Kade squeezed the ends of his hair. Water rained to the floor.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Raiden said. “Your powers have grown since—”

“Don’t say it,” Kade snapped.

Raiden frowned. “The storm almost killed you. You shouldn’t dance anymore.”

The Stormdancer lingered near the cave’s entrance. He peered out to the sea. “You’re right.”

Raiden covered his surprise by turning away to concentrate on breakfast. I guessed Kade didn’t agree with Raiden very often. Kade walked to the back of the cave to retrieve his orb. When the sphere was uncovered, I flinched with the sudden intensity of its song.

Tal narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t tell me you hear it.”

When I didn’t reply, he flew into a rage. “You can’t possibly hear it. You’re younger than me. And you’re not even a member of our clan.” He brushed past me, knocking me down.

“Raiden,” Indra said.

“I know.” The older man sighed. He helped me to my feet. “Sorry about that. Tal’s getting worse. I’ll send him home.”

“Wait,” Varun said. “He’s having a hard time adjusting. Before Opal’s device gave him proof, he still hoped he might develop magical powers. It’ll take a while for him to accept it. I’ll talk to him.”

“Fine. But tell him one more outburst and I’m sending him home for good.”

Varun agreed and followed Tal.

Raiden served the rest of us bowls of warm oatmeal. The thick mush had a fishy taste.

He laughed at my expression. “All our meals have fish in it. Cuts down on the amount of supplies we need.”

“Speaking of supplies,” Indra said. “What do we do about the glass ingredients?”

“Can you get a new batch?” Zitora asked.

“No. We stockpile the ingredients inland near Thunder Valley and bring only enough for each season. If one of the compounds is tainted, then the whole stockpile will be suspect,” Indra explained.

“How about ordering in fresh supplies?”

The glassmaker shook her head. “We wouldn’t get them in time. The special components in our mixture come from far away.”

“We really need to know which one is causing the problem,” Nodin said.

“Are the different components in separate stockpiles?” I asked.

“Yes. They’re mixed right before we leave.” He paced around the campfire, pulling at his tight curls. They sprang back as soon as he released one.

“Opal, you wanted to take samples to your father. Is there anyone else who is closer?” Zitora asked. “How about the Citadel’s glassmaker?”

“Aydan only works with one type of glass. My father really is the best one to ask. He has an extensive laboratory and experiments with sand while the other glassmakers find a mix they like and stay with the same recipe forever.”

“Can he come here?” Nodin stopped pacing. Hope touched his voice.

“He’ll need his lab. If it was an obvious substance, I would have seen it.”

“Is that why you ran them through your fingers?”

“Yes.”

“How long will it take?” Kade joined us by the fire. He had wrapped his orb in the blanket and cradled the bundle.

“Seven days one way if the weather is good. Then it depends on Opal’s father.” Zitora looked at me.

“A day. Maybe two.” I guessed.

“How long do you have before it’s too late?” Zitora asked Raiden.

“The storms are forming every four days now. In another three weeks, they’ll be coming every two days. Without Stormdancers and orbs, this cavern will be underwater until the middle of the cold season.”

“Let’s say nine days from now we have an answer. We can communicate through Opal’s glass animals and you can order a fresh batch.”

Indra stood. “That could work. We’ll need Opal back, though.”

Surprised, I asked why.

“To test the ingredients before they’re melted into glass. We can’t guess that the new supplies are pure. Plus we couldn’t tell the difference between the orbs. You’ll know if they’ll hold the storm’s energy.”

“But—”

Zitora cut me off. “What happens if it’s one of your special ingredients that are tainted?”

“We don’t dance,” Kade said. “People die.”

Kade’s words weighed heavy on my mind as we prepared to leave The Cliffs. Varun and Kade would accompany Zitora and me to their stockpile near Thunder Valley and remain there until they heard from us.

I gave my little ball to the Stormdancer so he could try to communicate with Zitora through the glass. She was on the beach with her unicorn and we were in his tiny sleeping cave decorated with a cot, a chair and a desk. Piles of books lined the back wall. A small coal stove rested near the entrance, but not too close to the wood and cloth privacy screen. Kade had stored the orb—still covered with the blanket—under his cot.

After I had glanced around his cave, Kade shrugged. “It suits me. When I spend all day in the wild vastness of sea and storms, it’s soothing to be surrounded by stone.” Kade settled on the cot, sitting cross-legged and peered into the glass.

A heartbeat later, he yelped in surprise and fumbled the ball. I suppressed a giggle, but couldn’t stop the smirk.

“I suppose the first time you heard a voice in your head you were unperturbed?” he asked in annoyance.

The smile dropped from my lips. “I don’t have the magical ability to hear thoughts.”

“I don’t, either, but Zitora does. As long as you have magic, you should be able to hear her.”

“I can’t.” I turned away before I could see his pity. The Masters could communicate with every magician in Sitia. Except me. Even people with only one trick could hear the Masters’ call. Except me.

“Since the test was a success, I’d better go help Zitora saddle the horses.” I ducked to leave.

“But you can hear the orb’s call,” Kade said to my back.

The orb’s song pierced my heart. I jerked, turning around. Kade had uncovered the sphere.

“What does it say to you?” he asked.

I concentrated. The orb’s song pulsed in time with the sea and hummed in tune with the wind. Among the melody moaned a name. The same name that haunted my dreams last night. “Kaya.”

Kade froze in horror. He stared at me with such intensity I stepped back.

“My sister’s name,” he said as if every word pained him.

“You have a sister?”

“Had. She died. Killed by one of the flawed orbs.”