Читать книгу Glass Collection: Storm Glass / Sea Glass / Spy Glass - Maria V. Snyder - Страница 19

“WHAT’S THE CHARGE?” Zitora demanded.

Silence filled the entire room. All of the officers in the security department’s common area watched us. My two guards kept a firm hold on my arms. The third man searched me for weapons, removing my sais.

Twelve armed men against one Master Magician. Her power was considerable and she had disarmed four, including two magicians. But twelve? The odds weren’t in our favor.

“Robbery,” Lieutenant Coll said. “After your visit sixteen days ago, a woman reported a young girl named Opal stole a glass vase from her market stand.”

“I bought it for seven silvers,” I said.

“The stand owner said you returned later and snatched a second vase. The woman has two witnesses.”

One of the guards handed Zitora a sheet of parchment. “Here’s her arrest warrant, Master Cowan.”

She frowned at the warrant. I craned my neck but couldn’t read the neat printing.

Lieutenant Coll recited a statement about my arrest and rights. His words wouldn’t take root in my stunned brain, until he said, “Escort her downstairs. Cell three.”

No one moved.

I looked at Zitora. “I didn’t steal anything.”

“I know. It’s an obvious misunderstanding. Release her into my custody, Lieutenant, and we’ll settle this matter.”

“I’m not authorized. You’ll have to submit a request to Captain Loris.”

“As Second Magician of Sitia, I have the authority. Release her.”

Coll blanched, and his right hand hovered near the hilt of his sword. But he pulled it together. “I’m sorry, but I can’t unless I receive an order from my direct supervisor.”

I hated to admit I was impressed by the Lieutenant, standing his ground when faced with an angry Master Magician.

The tension in the room increased. If Zitora tried forcing Coll to release me, the officers would have to decide who to support. From the array of determined stances, I guessed they would help Coll.

With a huff of annoyance, Zitora relaxed. “Opal, don’t worry about anything. I’ll have you out before dinner.”

“But—” The two guards holding my arms pulled me from the room, cutting off my protest.

In no time, I was led down a flight of steps, through a massive metal door, along a drafty corridor lined with cells on both sides and pushed into a small room. The door closed with a clang, raising goose bumps on my flesh and the loud rasp of the lock hit me like a punch to my stomach.

I marveled at how fast my life had changed. One moment making a stop for food and supplies, the next locked in a prison. Should the turn in events surprise me? If I reviewed my history, I could list many other upsets. But would the anticipation of ambushes and kidnappings make life easier? Probably the opposite—constant paranoia would be a strain. Caution mixed with the quick ability to adapt and respond would be a good combination. If only I possessed those qualities.

None of my thoughts helped me with my current predicament, but I had faith in Zitora and in the knowledge of my innocence.

At least the cell appeared to be clean. Iron bars formed the wall and door facing the hallway, and the rest of the room was constructed with stone. Weak sunlight shone through a small rectangular-shaped window located high on the back wall. Thin bars striped the opening.

A narrow bed was anchored to the floor. A thin straw-filled mattress rested on top of it. If I stood on the end of the bed, I could see outside. I peered out, but the limited view of an empty alley didn’t provide any entertainment.

I sat cross-legged on the mattress. This wasn’t so bad. No odors. The slop pot was clean, and tucked behind a short privacy screen bolted to the wall. No sign of rats.

I wouldn’t be here long. This was bearable. I tried to convince myself this was just an inconvenience despite the tightness ringing my chest. Despite the desire to pace the cell and yell for the guards to let me out. Or should I scream for them? Those doors to the prison were rather thick. Airtight. Spots swirled in my vision. A crushing weight pressed on my lungs.

Drawing in a couple of deep breaths helped relieve the tension. This was tolerable. Much better than being confined in a stuffy tent, unable to move.

Memories of my two-week ordeal with Alea flooded my mind. Almost five years ago, but I still could recall the long periods of boredom, lying there on the floor all day with my muscles paralyzed. Alea had always arrived at sunset and before the Curare’s effects had completely faded.

Once the drug wore off, feeling returned to my body. The first few nights, she gave me food and water, and let me stretch my legs. She pricked me with a thorn dipped in Curare when she left in the evening, robbing me of movement again.

I was lulled into a sense of routine. My fears weakened each day, and I looked forward to her arrival. It didn’t last long.

On the fourth night she brought a man with her. He wore a red mask and dark glasses. Alea didn’t bother to introduce us.

She said to me, “He will be in charge of you until the night of the exchange.” She turned to him. “The girl must listen to our instructions. Make sure she knows exactly what will happen to her if she disobeys.”

He nodded.

“Good. Meet me at Blood Rock on the night of the full moon. Bring her with you.”

Alea left the tent. The fabric flap snapped shut with an ominous slap as if she wiped her hands of me. Finally able to move, I sat. He reached for me.

The crash of a door and strident voices interrupted my morbid reverie—thank fate. I recognized Zitora’s voice.

“… to talk to her, Captain. You can’t deny me entry.”

A man’s voice replied. “I’m not denying you, I just want you to wait until we can conduct a proper interrogation.”

The word interrogation sent a cold jolt of fear through me. I moved closer to the bars, waiting for my visitors.

Zitora strode into view first. She had pulled her long honey-colored hair into a severe bun. Her annoyed demeanor radiating an impressive authority. If she had packed her magician’s robes, I bet she would have worn them to add to her strong presence.

An older man wearing a navy uniform followed her. Two gold bars glinted from the collar of his shirt and his belt bulged with weapons. He scowled at me.

“Can I go now?” I asked, trying and failing to keep the hope from my voice.

“Not yet. Opal, what’s this?” Zitora held up a glass vase. Made to hold a single flower, it was long and thin. Small bubbles decorated the rim and base of the vase.

I hesitated. Everyone knew what it was. What did Zitora really want me to say? I stuck my hand through the bars. “Can I see it?”

“No,” the Captain said.

Zitora gave me the vase. The Captain muttered, but stopped when the Master Magician shot him a look.

The glass popped with magic. “This is one of Ulrick’s pieces. Did you purchase it from the woman in the market?”

“No. Captain Loris found it in your saddlebags. It’s the stolen vase. Care to explain?”

I stared at her until full comprehension of her words managed to bypass my surprise. “My saddlebags? Are you sure?”

“I witnessed the search.” She kept her tone neutral.

“It wasn’t there when we left the Stormdancers. Someone must have planted it in my bag.” I put my arms out to the side. “Go ahead. Scan my mind.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Zitora reported to the Captain.

“No offense, Master Cowan, but you’re biased. She’s your student and traveling companion. You’re young—”

“Captain.” She growled with frustration. Her hands bunched into fists; her body poised to punch the man. But she paused, and made a visible effort to relax. Her arms dropped down and she laced her fingers together. “Fine. Summon another magician. One who can sense the truth.”

“Now you’re thinking. I’ll send a message. The magician should be here in two days.”

“Two days!” My cry echoed in the stone cell.

“This isn’t the Citadel. Thunder Valley is a small town. We only have a healer. And we’re lucky to have him.” The Captain peered at me with suspicion. “I believe you met him. He cleaned up your sword cuts.”

“I already explained about the man who attacked Opal,” Zitora said.

“The magician you didn’t warn us about? Who escaped from our prison? You’re saying he stayed in the area, risking capture just so he could attack Opal?”

“And Stormdancer Kade,” I said.

“So you say.”

Zitora leveled a dangerous stare at the Captain. “Are you calling me a liar?”

The Captain refused to back down. “No. But magic is involved with this situation, which makes all memories, information and people suspect.”

He was either brave, intelligent or ignorant of the amount of power Zitora could wield with ease. Probably a combination of all three. But at least he agreed to let us have a private conversation, moving away from us.

“I’m sorry, Opal. I have to go through the channels and make nice with the local authorities. They have hard evidence against you—I know.” She held up a hand, stopping my denial. “The Captain’s right, there is magic in play, and I intend to get to the bottom of this misunderstanding.”

“Could one of the other Masters help you with your investigation?”

Zitora smiled ruefully. “I contacted Irys. She told me—with malicious glee I’m sure—that I’m to resolve this situation on my own. Seems she thinks this a good opportunity for me to practice my diplomacy.”

I glanced around the darkening cell. Even though I was upset and disappointed, I tried to make the best of it. I didn’t have a choice, but no sense upsetting Zitora. “I have complete confidence in you. And two days is nothing.”

My bravado lasted until she left. I huddled on my cot, wrapped in my cloak, hoping a guard would light the lanterns in the corridor.

Zitora had brought me a few comfort items from my saddlebags. I hadn’t even noticed the bundle when she first arrived. Either that or I had noticed, but denied its implication.

Two days. Two days wasn’t so bad. The kilns reached the perfect temperature in two days. My brother would finally apologize to me two days after hurting my feelings. Mother roasted her succulent pork for two days before she would let us eat the juicy meat. Two days was … two days of being a suspected criminal, locked in a drafty cell.

I fell asleep on the cot, waking only to the sound of a metal tray being slid under the door. Dinner. I gnawed on the stale bread, drank the tepid water and ate all of the thick soup.

The lanterns had been lit. Shadows, thin and black, vibrated on the stone wall opposite my cot. Shutters outside my window had been closed and bolted. With nothing else to do, I watched the flames dance inside the glass lanterns until the guard extinguished them, leaving me in darkness. I tried to sleep, hoping to spend as much time as possible in the oblivion of my dreams.

A click of a bolt and a gush of cold air woke me. Crouched next to my window was a figure. The person gestured. I stood on the bed for a better look.

Zitora sawed through one of the bars with a thin metal thread. The cord glittered in the pale moonlight. I figured she was a dream, until the unmistakable high-pitched rubbing sound of the diamond string reached me. With a pop, Zitora moved to the bottom of the bar.

“Watch for guards,” she said.

I hopped to the floor and positioned myself near the cell’s door, keeping alert for any signs. After enduring the nerve-racking, blood-numbing slide of the diamond string for an hour, I marveled that the guards, let alone the entire town hadn’t come over to investigate.

“Let’s go,” Zitora said.

“But—”

She shushed me. “Later. Pass me your cloak.”

I did as ordered.

“Give me your hand.”

Surprisingly strong, Zitora helped me through the narrow opening. Once I stood in the alley, she handed me my cloak and a rucksack. “Put these on and follow me.” She slung a bag over her shoulder.

I tied the garment under my chin, glad of the warmth. The heavy pack dragged on my shoulders, and liquid sloshed inside. Probably water skins, but I wondered where our original packs were. “I thought you were playing nice with the locals.”

“Changed my mind.”

We ghosted through the sleeping town, staying in the shadows as much as possible. The half-moon’s position in the sky indicated four hours remained until dawn. I asked Zitora about the horses, when we headed out of town.

“Too hard to hide,” she said.

I puzzled over her reply. With her magic, surely hiding two horses wouldn’t be any trouble.

We continued on the road, traveling north toward the Krystal Clan lands. The indigo plantations thinned, replaced with a smattering of pine forests. I tried to question Zitora on why she rescued me and where we were going, but only received clipped and vague answers.

When dawn brightened the eastern sky, we encountered a few fellow travelers on the road. Zitora turned into one of the clusters of pine trees. Pushing my way through the fragrant branches, I tried to keep up with her.

“Why are we in here?” I asked.

“Too many people. We’ll hide until dark.”

We reached a sandy clearing.

“Breakfast.” Zitora dropped her bag and rummaged through the contents.

I joined her in the open area and sat on the ground with relief. My legs ached from the hours of walking. Fire burned from my blistered shoulders. We split a few hunks of cheese and an apple. During the meal, Zitora kept glancing into the surrounding forest as if expecting someone to burst from the trees.

“Do you sense something?” I asked.

“No.”

I studied her. Her emotions were hard to decipher. Each interaction with Zitora seemed off. She acted distant and our student-teacher relationship was gone. Now she gave orders without explanation. Perhaps she was angry with me for causing so much trouble.

The sun cleared the treetops, warming the clearing. Tired from our flight, I considered napping.

Zitora stood and wiped the sand from her clothes. “I’ll check the surrounding area.”

Confused about why she wouldn’t just use her magic, I stared at her back. When she strode out of sight, I caught a glimpse of her shadow.

My heart locked. The black shape following her heels was not Zitora’s shadow. It was the shadow of a man with a sword hanging from his belt.