Sea Glass

“How did you manage that?”

“Oh, a little silver here, a little misdirection there. All fun.”

After checking my saddlebags, I swung up on Quartz. Her ears perked up and the left one swiveled back to hear me.

“Where to?” Janco asked.

“East toward Ognap.”

We directed the horses, walking through the deserted streets. Even without horseshoes, the thud of their hooves on the stones sounded loud.

Janco leaned forward and stroked Moonlight’s black neck. “Quieter if you can,” he whispered. Both horses slowed. “Thanks.”

Surprised, I shot him a questioning look.

“Sandseed horses are very intelligent, and he’s one beautiful, bright boy.”

“And he allowed you to saddle him!” I said in an excited whisper. “How?”

He shrugged. “I introduced myself, and told him what was going on. Guess meeting the greatest swordsman in Ixia awed him into submission.”

“A swordsman who can’t handle a horsewhip. He probably felt sorry for you.”

He tsked. “Low blow.” Then smiled. “I’ve taught you well.”

We spent the rest of the night in silence. The tight row houses of Fulgor soon transformed into clusters of buildings. I steered Quartz onto the main east-west road. When we reached farmland and marble quarries interspersed with forest, we stopped to rest.

As we set up a makeshift camp in the woods and hidden from the path, I explained my escape.

“Devlen? Why?” Janco asked.

“He said he didn’t want to hurt me again.”

“Ha! He’s been playing the reformed man since we blasted him up on the ice. Don’t believe him, Opal. I’ve seen criminals use it to be released, but most of them are back to their old tricks in no time.”

“What about you? You’re reformed.”

“Not me. I just switched sides. I’m doing the same stuff—lock picking, sneaking around, tricking and spying. Except now I’m doing it for Valek and the Commander. And it has more…meaning. When I was a kid, it was just a challenge. I didn’t steal, but I couldn’t resist a locked door. And I wanted to get caught—just to see if I could escape the holding cells. Drove everyone nuts.” He smiled at the memory. “I even broke into the jail, past five guards with none the wiser.” But then his humor evaporated and he rubbed the scar spanning from his right temple to his ear. “Ended badly. That’s how I have firsthand knowledge that you don’t ever believe the reformed-man act.”

He bustled about our small camp lost in his own thoughts. I yawned and shivered in the predawn air. The horses munched on their grain. I wondered if I could train Quartz to sound an alarm like Leif had trained Rusalka, who was also a Sandseed horse.

“Should we take turns guarding?” I asked.

“No.” Janco checked on Moonlight, running his hand along the sleek coat. “Moonlight will let us know if someone comes too close. Right, boy?”

The horse nickered as if in agreement.

“That’s seems too easy,” I said.

“Not everything in life has to be hard. Horses are prey animals. If they notice anything strange, they’ll alert the herd.”

“And we’re the herd.”

“Yep. Their sense of smell and hearing are far superior to ours. So you can sleep in peace. No worries.”

But what about the old worries?

“Who names a town Ognap?” Janco asked.

“It was probably named for a famous Cloud Mist Clan member.” I tried not to sigh.

After sleeping most of the morning, we had saddled the horses and headed east toward the Emerald Mountains. Ognap was nestled in the foothills.

“Ixia is far simpler,” he said. “Military Districts and Grid Sectors for location names. No weird town names. No bizarre clothing or lack of clothing. We have uniforms, so when you meet someone new, you know exactly who they are and what they do. No guessing if they’re going to zap you with their magic.”

Janco’s homesickness drove me crazy. He had been waxing nostalgic over Ixia the past two hours. The trip to Ognap would take another four days, and I didn’t know if I could stand his mooning that long. If we cut through the Avibian Plains, we could shorten the trip. Being Sandseed horses, Moonlight and Quartz could use their special gust-of-wind gaits, which only worked in the plains, but the Sandseed Clan’s protective magic would convince Janco we were lost and being watched.

I remembered the panic I had felt when I first entered the plains. My sense of direction failed and I knew warriors waited to ambush me. Leif introduced me to the protective magic. Since the Zaltanas were the Sandseed’s distant cousins, Leif and his sister, Yelena, were welcome in the Avibian Plains.

If the protection recognized me, I would be fine, but Janco wouldn’t. No sense risking it for a few days of peace.

“…Clan. Opal, are you listening to me?”

“Sorry. Could you repeat it?”

He slumped his shoulders in an exaggerated gesture of aggravation. “What’s the Cloud Mist Clan like?”

“They have a few small towns along the foothills of the mountains, but most of them prefer to live either up on the mountain or under it.”

“Under?”

“Mines. There are a ton of them. In fact, I’m surprised the whole mountain chain hasn’t collapsed. They mine precious stones, jade, ore and coal, both white and black.” I used the special white coal in my kiln. It burned hot enough to melt sand into glass and was cleaner than the black variety. It also cost more, but it was worth every extra copper.

“No diamonds. Not yet anyway,” I added.

“Pity the only deposits have been found in the northern regions of Ixia,” Janco said. “Otherwise that whole business with Councilor Moon’s sister wouldn’t have happened.”

“That wouldn’t have stopped her. Akako would have just found another way to finance her coup. Selling Gressa’s fake diamonds as real was the fastest way for her to raise money.”

Diamonds were expensive and hard to find in Sitia, and the Commander kept the imports to us to a minimum. Which made sense when I considered his aversion to magic. Diamonds held the unique property of being able to enhance a magician’s power. Enough of them together could provide a significant boost, and since Sitia and Ixia’s relationship remained on unstable ground despite Yelena’s efforts, the Commander wouldn’t want his potential enemy to increase their powers.

I wondered about the diamonds I had created. Would they augment a magician’s magic or not? They didn’t work for me. As my father would say, only one way to find out. The desire to be home, sitting in my father’s laboratory and discussing glass, chewed my heart. Simpler times and simpler problems.

“How about the people? Are they friendly?” Janco asked.

The only Cloud Mist Clan member I knew was Pazia. She was Vasko Cloud Mist’s daughter. Vasko had discovered a bountiful vein of rubies and was one of the richest men in Sitia.

I met Pazia during our first year at the Magician’s Keep. Her powers had been the strongest in our class, and rumors she might become a master-level magician circulated even then. She hated me from the start and I endured four years of torment from the woman. In our fourth year, First Magician Bain Bloodgood assigned her to help with one of my magical-glass experiments. Pazia attacked me with an illusion of lethal Greenblade bees.

Channeling her magic into a glass orb in my hands, I transformed her illusion into glass bees and inadvertently drained Pazia of almost all her power. Despite the fact she aimed every bit of her strength at me, I should have stopped, but I was determined not to let her get the best of me again. My ego and pride had cheated Sitia out of a potential Master Magician. We only had three.

At least the incident hadn’t been a total disaster. Pazia and I settled our differences and now she worked in the Keep’s glass factory, creating intricate vases decorated with precious stones. Wealthy Sitians had been buying them as fast as Pazia could produce them.

“Opal, hello? Where ja go?” Janco waved a hand, snapping me from my reverie.

“Just thinking about the only Cloud Mist I know, and she’s not representative of the entire clan. I’ve heard they’re friendly if you’re staying in one of their towns, but they won’t let anyone visit the mines. The people who live up in the mountains tend to be very insular. They say they know a few routes across the Emerald Mountains. The Sitian Council sent an expedition with a Cloud Mist guide a few years back, but they turned around, claiming it was too cold and too hard to breathe. The high-mountain clan members also claim a vast desert is on the eastern side of the mountains. A waste-land with no end in sight. Has anyone in Ixia climbed over the…what do you call the chain in the north?”

“The Soul Mountains.”

“Interesting military designation.” I teased him. Not everything in Ixia had a number.

Janco frowned. “The mines have the proper codes.” He scratched his goatee as he thought. “The Soul range is thicker in the north. We’ve had a few groups try to summit them, but they never returned. The winds are nasty in the higher elevations. Do you remember how strong an Ixian blizzard is?”

I nodded, remembering the horrible keening and bone-shattering cold.

“Well, it’s twenty times worse in the mountains.”

Shivering, I pulled my cloak tight. The late-afternoon sunshine warmed the land, but I hated being cold. All those years working in my family’s glass factory had gotten me used to the heat. Eight kilns running nonstop kept the brick building steaming hot.

“Has anyone tried skirting them to the north?” I asked.

“Suicide. The mountains run right into the northern ice sheet. Between the icy temperatures and the snow cats you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

A finger of fear traced my spine as the image of bloodstained snow formed. Fierce, cunning and with heightened senses, a snow cat was impossible to hunt. They smelled, heard or saw a person well before the hunter spotted them. With their white coats blending into the ice sheet, the sole warning of an impending attack was movement. By then it was too late.

One man held the honor of killing a snow cat. The Commander of Ixia. Even Valek, the Commander’s chief of security and assassin, couldn’t make that claim. Yet he’d managed to hide the Fire Warper’s glass prison in a snow cat’s den. Interesting.

At least the prison would remain hidden. No one else would risk sneaking by seven snow cats to retrieve the Warper’s soul. It would be suicide.

Four days of travel with Janco proved to be an extended exercise in patience. His curiosity focused on everything and everyone. Nonstop commentary about the strangeness of Sitia flowed from his mouth, and he enjoyed arguing. He found a fault with every issue, and we even debated on the merits or lack of merits of dust.

At least I learned a few self-defense tactics and he promised to teach me how to pick a lock in Ognap.

We reached the edge of the Emerald Mountains on the morning of the fourth day. The rolling terrain painted with lush greenery spread out before us like a rumpled quilt. Farms dotted the mounds, and clusters of buildings occupied the cracks. One large grouping extended along a narrow valley and climbed the hills to each side. Ognap, the Cloud Mist Clan’s capital.

The snowcapped Emerald Mountains loomed beyond the foothills, stretching toward the sky. Impressive.

For once, Janco remained quiet. But as we drew near the town’s limits, he stopped Moonlight. “With your glass messengers in every city, the details about our escape have probably been sent to each one. So there’s a chance the town’s guards will be watching for us. We could do one of two things. Either go in via the main road separately or circle around and find another way in.” Janco glanced at the sky. “And we should go in after dark.”

Although the thought of being alone tempted me, I decided we should stay together. My fighting skills needed to be much better for me to feel confident in them. Devlen had bypassed my sais with ease even though I had three years of lessons at the Keep. More emphasis on training and self-defense went into the final year of the curriculum. The final year I was currently missing.

We found an isolated glade to wait for the sun to set. To help pass the time, I challenged Janco to a match.

He jumped to his feet, his sword at the ready. “The glass warden isn’t bor…ing. Her sais may sing, but I am the king.”

“Warden and boring don’t rhyme.” I set my feet into a fighting stance with my sais in a defensive position. The guard was U-shaped and flared toward the weapon’s point. I balanced one arm of the guard between my thumb and index finger, which lay along the hilt. The rest of my fingers curled around the other side of the guard.

“You try and find a word that rhymes with warden.”

I tried, but Janco attacked and all my concentration focused on his lightning-fast strikes and quick parries. He won every match. Despite his tendency to lapse into extreme smugness, he guided my efforts to defend myself and I learned quite a bit from him.

During a break, he said, “Not bad. Not good, either. You need to practice every day for four hours.”

“Four hours!” My arms ached and sides heaved after just an hour.

He grinned. “The Commander’s soldiers run for two hours every morning, and practice drills every afternoon. When you’re new, practice time lasts six hours and when you’re an old soul like me, practice lasts about two hours. Keeps the skills sharp.”

“Old soul.” I laughed. “You’re thirty.”

He stroked his goatee. White whiskers peppered the black. “It’s not the years, it’s the experience.” He paused. His eyes held a distant gleam as if seeing into his past. “My first practice was a shock. I was a cocky smart aleck—”

“Was?”

“Be quiet. I’m telling a story here. I easily bested my fellow trainees, but the trainers unarmed me in record time. And the Weapons Master was impossible to beat. He would just look at me, and my practice sword would fly from my hand.”

I stifled my dubiousness over Janco’s exaggerations.

He inspected the blade of his sword. “It irked me. Big-time. I started to practice eight hours a day and learned counterstrikes, attacks and strategies from anyone who would teach me. I trained with every sword we had. Broadswords, rapiers, short swords and sabers. Plus, I learned how to use a knife and unarmed combat.”

“And?”

“He kept winning, but each match lasted a little bit longer. Until…”

He waited for me to prompt him. “Until?”

“I discovered my rhythm. My footwork was horrible, but one day it clicked and I started letting my instincts guide my actions. You know those little clues an opponent makes before they move?”

“No. I’m usually too focused on the weapon.”

“A mistake. Here.” He slid his feet into a fighting stance and pointed his rapier toward me. “Get ready. Now watch my blade.”

I concentrated on the silver shaft. He lunged. The tip of his blade stopped an inch from my chest before I reacted.

“Now watch my eyes.”

I met his light brown gaze. Once again he shot past my defenses.

“Now watch my hips.”

A slight hitch of movement alerted me and I stepped back. Countering, I blocked his blade with a clang and deflected it past my body.

“See?” he asked.

“Yes! Are there more?”

“A few. Those clues allowed me to concentrate more on my opponent’s strategy and find their fighting cadence. Beginners are easy because they’ll do the same series of moves over and over, while experts will keep changing it or will lull you into a rhythm and bang! Switch it up.” Appreciation gleamed on his face as he stabbed the air. “It took me well over a year to discover the Weapon Master’s dance. I had been making up rhymes in my mind to help me with my footwork, but for that last match with the Master, I recited them aloud. He hated that! Especially since my rhymes harmonized to his attacks. And anger makes you sloppy.”

“You beat him?”

“Yep.” He danced a victory jig.

“What happened after?”

He stopped. “I was transferred to the Commander’s guard, where I met Ari.” Huffing in amusement, he continued, “Since I beat the Weapons Master, I arrived with a cocky confidence.” Janco held up a hand before I could comment. “I know, I know. Hard to believe. One match with the big brute knocked the swagger from my step as well as knocking me unconscious.” He rubbed his jaw. “Then there was Valek with his super assassin skills and Maren with her bow staff. I had much more to learn. Endless practice ensued, and now here I am, just a humble average guy.”

“Your humility is inspiring.”

He ignored my sarcasm. “I endeavor to be a good role model.”

“Shame your training didn’t include fighting a big man named Ox armed with a horsewhip.”

“Those are fighting words.” He launched an attack and I scrambled to counter.

Chapter 6

AFTER THE SUN SET, Janco and I packed our supplies and headed for Ognap. We found a small goat path south of the town and entered the city through a side street. About half the size of Fulgor, the town’s business centered on gemstones. Once mined from underneath the mountains, the stones arrived in Ognap to be cleaned, faceted, categorized and polished before being sold or traded for goods.

Armed guards accompanied the caravans and watched the gemstone factories. Large barracks had been built on the east side of town to house them.

Torches blazed along the main boulevard as loud groups of citizens hustled between pubs under the watchful gaze of the town’s security force. Shops and market stands buzzed with commerce. By the hum in the air, I guessed the evening’s activities had just begun. Miners arrived for a few days’ rest, bringing stories of rich veins and huge stones. They spent their wages, then returned to work.

Janco and I avoided the more popular areas and checked into the Tourmaline Inn. The innkeeper, Carleen, rented us two single rooms—all she had left—and served us a wonderful beef stew and sweet berry pie. The explanation for the inn’s name hung around her neck. A beautiful heart-shaped pink tourmaline rested on her broad chest.

She stroked the stone often, especially when speaking of her late husband.

“Pink.” Janco spat in disgust when she left to help another customer. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

The common room’s decorations tended toward fluffy pink and soft. Hearts crafted from wood, stone and glass lined the shelves, and bright paintings of flowers hung on the walls.

I stifled a chuckle when Janco entered his room. His polite smile strained to hide his dismay at the mountain of pillows heaped on his bed.

“One of my favorite rooms,” Carleen said. “It has a wonderful view of the mountains.” Her fingertips brushed her pendant. She wrinkled her petite nose when she glanced at Janco. “There’s a bathhouse across the street—you need to make use of it before retiring for the evening.”

Carleen ignored his reaction and unlocked the next door for me. “It has my best mattress, sweetie.” It was identical to Janco’s. “Make sure you go along with your friend to the bathhouse.” She waggled her fingers in farewell, and hustled back downstairs.

Janco leaned on the threshold of my door with his face creased in annoyance. “Did she just—”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t—”

“Yes. You do. We both stink.”

“Well, I’m not—”

“Yes. You are.”

He huffed. “You won’t let—”

“No. No complaining. Let’s go.” I grabbed a clean shirt and pants from my saddlebags.

“Well, she could have handled it better,” he grumped.

“No. She couldn’t.”

He settled into a sulky silence as we visited the bathhouse.

Janco might not’ve appreciated the inn’s excessive pillows, but after so many nights spent on the hard ground, I luxuriated in the bed, sleeping well past dawn. I snuggled deeper into the mattress until someone knocked on the door. Covering my ears failed to block the insistent rapping.

“Come on, Opal! We’re burning daylight,” Janco called through the wood.

I yelled for him to go away and the noise stopped. A moment of peace before the door swung open.

“Holy snow cats, did you sleep with all those pillows?” Janco asked.

Despite my cries of protest, he pulled them away and swept the blankets back. “Let’s go.”

With the utmost reluctance, I followed Janco outside. We walked from inn to inn, asking if anyone had seen Ulrick or the two Warpers that Devlen spoke of. No one recognized the descriptions. We tried the pubs and taverns next and then the stables. Nothing.

“What’s next?” Janco asked.

“The barracks. The Warpers could have gotten jobs guarding the gemstone caravans or even be working in the mines.”

“They could. And Devlen could have lied and there is no one here to find.”

I agreed. “Or they could have left. We need to make sure either way.”

Janco rubbed his scar. “Asking questions won’t work in the barracks. Guards for hire are usually ex-soldiers. They tend to stick together and protect each other. I’ll wait until dark and do a little reconnaissance.”

“And I can visit the pubs again and see if they show up.”

“What if we don’t find them?”

Good question. “We should check the mines, but they’re off-limits and the security is impossible to breach.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Janco said. He practically drooled with gleeful anticipation.

“The Cloud Mist Clan has been mining precious stones for ages. Thieves and their own workers have been trying to steal them for ages. They have a complicated network of security. You can’t just go in there and have a look around.”

“Ah! A challenge.”

Nothing I said dimmed his enthusiasm. In fact, it had the opposite effect. I hoped we found the Warpers before then.

After dinner, I suffered through Janco’s lecture on safety.

“Make sure you have your spiders with you,” he said.

“Janco, I—”

“Stay in well-lit areas, and, if you see the Warpers, don’t confront them. Just follow them and we’ll talk to them together. If you run into trouble, go to the town’s guards. Better to be arrested than killed. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He remained stern.

“What? I agreed.”

“Next time try it without the sarcasm.”

We left the inn together. Wearing all black, Janco melted into the shadows. I continued along the main street. Torches blazed and groups of people strolled. Even at this hour merchants called prices and the rapid exchange of haggling filled the air.

Scanning faces, I wandered in the busy downtown area. I stopped to peruse one seller’s glasswares, looking for Ulrick’s unique style. He would need money to support himself. None of the vases popped with his magic. However, I found a beautiful statue of a Sandseed horse. A red heart nestled within its clear glass chest.

I held the horse in my hand. A faint throbbing pulsed through my fingertips as if the heart beat inside. The cause of the vibration could be from magic or from my imagination.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the merchant asked.

“Yes. Do you know how the artist managed to keep the red glass’s shape?” The first gather of molten glass could be shaped and colored, but, when another layer of glass is gathered around the shape, the heat would melt the shape, leaving the color behind.

“It isn’t glass. It’s a ruby.”

That could explain the pulse. When I touched diamonds, they would either flash hot or cold and a vision of where they were mined filled my head. Perhaps rubies vibrated.

The merchant continued, “And not just any ordinary ruby. It’s a Vasko ruby. The best of the best. Each stone comes with an authenticity seal from Vasko Cloud Mist himself!”

Perhaps only Vasko rubies throbbed. I thought of Pazia. Her family owned the Vasko mine. I would have to ask her if I could touch one.

“The horse is eight golds, but, for you, I’ll sell it for six.”