Storm Glass (9 page)

  “No. She’s my horse. I’ll take them.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  I hopped into the saddle and Kade settled in behind me. It was a tight fit. I tried not to think about his legs pressed against mine, and about where my backside was nestled. Strong arms wrapped around my waist. I was suddenly glad he couldn’t see my flushed face. His chest molded to my back and the orb’s song grew louder. Its energy vibrated in my heart.

  I urged Quartz into a gallop, hoping to distract myself from the hot tingle pulsing through my blood.

  We aimed toward the setting sun and kept going once the light disappeared. Zitora slowed our pace, allowing the horses to find a good path in the darkness.

  Kade had remained quiet, but I felt him draw a breath. “When I asked you what the orb says to you, I meant just general feelings like happy, sad or angry. Stormdancers hear the storm’s personality in the orb. I wanted to see if it was the same for you.” A pause. “You surprised me with your answer.”

  Was this an apology? I searched for a reply. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I know that…now.”

  We rode for a while without saying anything. Finally, I asked, “Storms have personalities?”

  “Yes. There’re subtle differences in the storms. A few blow big and angry, others delight in their energy, some rage with malice, while others brood. Strange, I know.”

  “Not strange to me. It’s similar to my glass animals. They all call to me in different ways. If I really thought about it, I could assign emotions to them like you do with the storms.”

  He huffed. “I never would have thought storms and glass could have something in common.”

  “But you put the storm’s energy into glass.”

  “Before I met you, I thought glass was just a container. No personality. I didn’t realize what could be done with it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A grunt of frustration. “It’s like paint.”

  “Paint?”

  “Yes, paint. I can dip a brush and smooth paint on a canvas, but all I end up with is a smear of paint. While another can use that same paint and create a masterpiece.”

  “I would hardly call my animals masterpieces.”

  “Can anyone else do it?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Then they are truly unique and you should be proud of them.”

  I squirmed at the thought. I was proud of what they could do, but Tula’s glass creations were crafted better. More lifelike in detail and sought after by collectors, especially since there would be no more. A flare of grief burned in my throat. I swallowed it down and changed the subject.

  “Why do you keep the orb?” I asked.

  His grip on my waist tightened for a moment before he relaxed. “I was filling the orb when my sister died. Kaya worked on another outcrop two hundred feet away during a sullen storm. I knew the instant her orb shattered. By the time I reached her, she had lost too much blood.”

  I wanted to express my regret, but, after what had happened in his cave, I kept quiet.

  “I keep the orb because it…comforts me. I don’t expect you to understand, but it reminds me of Kaya. She could be sullen and moody, yet when she smiled, all was forgiven.”

  I understood all too well. Siblings fight. They hate each other and love each other, and there are times when one emotion is a heartbeat away from the other.

  “Perhaps that’s why the orb sings her name,” I said.

  “Perhaps.” A long pause, then he whispered, “But I don’t hear her name.”

  Zitora finally stopped when the moon reached its zenith. We made a fire from the driftwood we had packed. After sitting on the ground for a few minutes, I wished we had taken a couple chairs, too.

  “We’ll have to buy fresh supplies,” Zitora said. “How far are your stockpiles from the market?”

  “Not far. The market is an hour’s ride east,” Varun answered.

  I thought about the location of their stockpiles. “How do you get the glass ingredients down to the beach?” I asked Varun. “Wagons won’t fit on The Cliff’s trail.”

  “There is another way to the beach. If you head northwest through the Krystal Clan’s lands, there’s a wide slope down to the coast. Then you go straight south to reach The Cliffs. It’s the long way. When we’re in a hurry, we take the loads over The Flats and lower them with ropes. An unpleasant task.”

  He launched into a story about losing a whole load of lime when a rope broke. “It looked like it snowed on The Cliffs” He chuckled. Then he added-with a touch of sourness-“Being the youngest, I was assigned the task of scraping lime off the rocks and picking out impurities before my father and sister could put it into the glass mix.”

  “Why make the orbs on-site? Why not make them in Thunder Valley and transport them to The Cliffs?” I asked. “It would be easier.”

  “I asked my father the same thing.” Varun squirmed into a more comfortable position. “He quoted me three reasons. Tradition, secrecy and convenience in case more orbs are needed during the storm seasons. Although having to wait twelve hours for an orb seems long to me.”

  “Better than two days,” Kade said. “And it could be the difference between life and death.”

  Varun and I talked for a while about glassmaking in general.

  At one point, Varun shook his head. “I don’t feel the same…enthusiasm you do about working with glass,” he said. “To me, it’s a job to get done so I can go do other things.”

  “You have time for other activities?” I asked.

  “Sure. We work for four weeks making orbs, wait out each season just in case they need more, and then have the rest of the year to ourselves.” Varun picked up a stick and poked the fire. “Usually we work other jobs.” Poke. Sparks flew. “We don’t get enough money from crafting orbs to live.” He jabbed at the embers.

  “You’re well paid for a half a season of work,” Kade said. His tone held a warning note.

  Varun snorted, but said nothing.

  Zitora broke the awkward silence with orders for everyone to get a few hours’ rest.

  “A few?” Varun asked.

  “Seventeen days left,” Zitora replied.

  “What about setting a watch schedule?” I asked her.

  “No need. I’ll know if anyone comes close.”

  “Will you let them? I’d like a little notice if I’m going to wake up with a sword pointed at my throat again.” I shivered at the memory.

  “Again?” Kade asked.

  Zitora filled him in about the ambush.

  “Does Raiden know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isolated attack or can we expect more trouble?” Kade asked.

  “We didn’t have time to find out. I’m hoping Master Jewelrose has interrogated them before we arrive in Thunder Valley. Do you know anyone who wants to keep you from dancing?”

  Kade’s gaze grew distant. “The other clans have always complained about our using the storm’s energy to fuel our factories, saying it gives us an unfair advantage in producing cheaper goods. The Krystal and Moon Clans have been most vocal. They’ve even offered to buy full orbs from us, but there are just enough orbs for our factories. And some years are leaner than others. It all depends on how many storms we get and how strong they are.”

  “Hopefully once we arrive at Thunder Valley, we’ll find out who wanted to stop us from helping you,” Zitora said.

  “Then I’d better come to town with you,” Kade said. “We’ll drop Varun off at the stockpiles and I’ll walk back.”

  “I get to babysit piles of sand while you’re in town.” Sarcasm dripped from Varun’s voice. “How exciting.”

  Sleeping on the uneven shale ground proved difficult. I struggled to find a comfortable spot and managed only short snatches of sleep. And Kaya haunted my dreams. She beckoned to me, wanting my help, but I couldn’t reach her. She was encased in glass.

  A shrill sound pierced my mind and I bolted into a sitting position. Kade sat with his orb cradled in his lap, staring into its depths, lost in another world. Zitora and Varun appeared to be asleep. The fire had burned down into a few glowing embers. “Kade?”

  He jerked as if startled, but didn’t look at me. “Go back to sleep.”

  “I can’t.”

  Now he peered at me through the darkness. “Why not?”

  “Your orb.” I gestured. “Your sister. You need to cover it.”

  He returned his attention to the orb. “She was so stubborn. We had a couple of the old orbs left, but she insisted on using a new one despite the danger. Claimed Gian’s death was his own fault. Said he had been too ambitious and caused the orb to shatter. Called the old orbs brittle.”

  I waited, sensing he had more to say.

  “She was the strongest Stormdancer, and therefore in charge of us. She made the final decisions.” He smiled at a memory. “She was a year younger than me, but she bossed me around since we were toddlers.” He laughed. “My parents knew what they were doing when they named her. Kaya means ‘my older little sister.’”

  “And I thought that bossy quality was reserved for annoying younger brothers,” I said. “Mine thinks he knows everything and will argue about it even when I prove him wrong.” Funny how I could miss having him around.

  “I would have liked to have a brother, but all I had was Kaya. Do you have any other siblings?”

  “Two older sisters, but-”

  “Do they all work with glass?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do they have magical abilities?”

  “So far, I’m the only one. Ahir has just reached puberty. The Keep magicians will test him when he visits me this year.”

  “Kaya and I could both call the wind,” Kade said. “Very fortunate and very unusual, considering neither of my parents has that ability.”

  “Who is the strongest Stormdancer now?”

  “I am. Although I shouldn’t be. When Kaya died, my powers doubled.”

  Our early-morning conversation woke Zitora. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Since you’re awake,” she said drily, “you can feed and saddle the horses.”

  I was happy to oblige. Another minute on the hard shale ground and I would have a stiff back. Not pleasant, considering I had run out of Barbasco yams.

  Kade helped with the horses while Zitora roused Varun. In no time we were on horseback, eating a cold breakfast of beef jerky. Yesterday’s awkwardness between Kade and me was gone, but my skin still tingled where our bodies touched.

  Just past the edge of The Flats, we dropped Varun off at the stockpiles. Mounds of sand littered the clearing. Soda ash and lime had been heaped inside small buildings to protect them from the rain. A log building housed an office and modest living area. The building was used by the glassmakers before the season started to make sure the proper goods were delivered from the other clans.

  We left Varun a few provisions and Kade promised to bring back more. I collected samples from each stockpile before we headed east.

  We soon reached Thunder Valley. The main core of the city was only a few blocks long, about half the size of my hometown of Booruby. However, Thunder Valley wasn’t the capital for the Stormdance Clan.

  Kade explained the town grew around the market. “The market was located here so it would be equidistant from all the towns in our lands. It’s also along the main north-south road.”

  People hustled through the streets. Most carried packages while others pulled wagons. The heavy scent of fresh bread floated in the air. The buildings, made of wood or stone or a combination of the two, leaned together in an odd collection of sizes and shapes.

  We stopped at the town’s square. Zitora pointed to an official-looking building that was three times as wide as its neighbors and had been constructed with large white stones. Iron bars covered the windows along the ground floor of the structure.

  “I’ll talk to the authorities about our ambushers. To save time, why don’t you buy our supplies and I’ll meet you at the market.” She recited a list of items to purchase.

  Kade slid off the saddle to join Zitora and I was left to take care of the horses. Without the Stormdancer behind me, the cool air on my back gave me a chill. I couldn’t help feeling left out even though I knew Zitora was right. We shouldn’t linger too long since we had another five days before we reached Booruby.

  I found the market by following the scent of spiced beef sizzling over an open flame. Tying the horses to a nearby hitching post, I wandered through the market’s stalls. The open wooden stands had roofs tiled with shale shingles and all had bamboo shades to protect them from the wind and rain. On a clear day like this morning, the shades were rolled up and tied to the roof.

  I bought a loaf of bread, a hunk of cow cheese and a handful of pork jerky. After I finished shopping, I packed the supplies in our saddlebags. With my chore done, I strolled through the market again. This time I purchased a spiced beef stick to eat for lunch and lingered to examine the glasswares for sale.

  A stall filled with decorative pieces drew my attention. I stopped to appreciate the craftsmanship of a delicate vase. The clear glass had a swirl of green bubbles spiraling around the tall flute. Sometimes bubbles or seeds meant a mistake, but the effect was stunning. The vase didn’t sing, but faint pops throbbed in my fingertips.