“Exactly!” Dax shouted.
He kept the debate going, but my mind filled with a horrible vision. I saw myself twenty years in the future, working at a huge glass factory. Workers crafted glass messengers and I made an endless circuit, blowing magic into each one, creating hundreds a day. Since society couldn’t function without my glass messengers, I couldn’t leave for fear I would be hurt or killed, and would spend the rest of my life imprisoned in the factory.
11
“Opal?” Dax’s soft voice held concern.
I glanced up. The other students had left. “Sorry.” I grabbed my books and stood.
“I hope I didn’t upset you.”
“Not at all,” I lied. “You just gave me a lot to think about.”
“Good. You’re in a unique position. You should be considering all the possibilities. This extends beyond the Keep and the Council.”
His words haunted me throughout dinner. My future vision wouldn’t dissipate no matter how hard I tried to focus on another topic or memory or my food. What would happen if I stopped making my glass now before it became ingrained in society?
Could the Council force me? Of course. All they needed to do was threaten harm to my family or Kade or threaten to invite Devlen to help change my mind. Would the Council stoop to such measures? If they believed it was vital to society, I guessed they would.
I arrived at Master Bloodgood’s office at the appointed hour. Worry gnawed on my ribs like a hungry tree leopard. He called me in before I even knocked.
“Please sit down.” First Magician sat behind his desk, all traces of a friendly grandfather gone. He studied me as if I were prey. “How were your classes?”
I wouldn’t play this game. Not anymore. “Master Bloodgood, please don’t pretend. Do me the honor of acknowledging the fact you already know how my classes went and everything I did and said today.” Suicide. I braced for his reply.
“Very well. What I do not know is why you skipped your morning classes.”
“I already earned high marks for them. Saying I need a refresher is an insult to my intelligence. What is sorely lacking in my education is the ability to defend myself. My...ah...adventures in the field have taught me I need to improve my fighting and self-defense techniques.” And picking locks.
“Are you saying you know better than me?”
“Yes, sir.” Double suicide. Was that even possible?
The silence pressed on my skin, sending darts of fear through my chest. I resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. To apologize. To beg his forgiveness.
“Good for you. I approve your new schedule.”
I needed a few seconds to recover. Master Bloodgood didn’t wait. He launched into a lecture about examining the past to predict the future. At the end, he assigned me a research project.
“Go through the history books and search for any mention of another glass magician.”
An odd request, considering he knew more about Sitian history than most history professors. “Wouldn’t you have remembered reading about one before?”
“Yes and no. If one was mentioned by name or by direct reference, I would have remembered. However, many times bits of information are scattered throughout and I do not think they are important because I do not know enough about the subject. You have the experience, and will be able to pick up on those subtle facts.” He swept an arm out. “You’re welcome to read the books here or take them along. Make sure you are careful with them. Many are very old.”
“Yes, sir.” I pulled a few dusty tomes from the shelves and carried them back to my rooms before I reported for my hour in the glass factory.
The magician assigned to “watch” me waited outside the door with ill-concealed dislike etched into his large forehead. He had been an apprentice when I started my studies at the Keep. I couldn’t remember his name and he didn’t bother to introduce himself.
“The null shield is down,” he informed me in clipped tones. “If you deviate from what you are supposed to do, I will have it up in an instant.”
“Do you know anything about glass blowing?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter. I know about magic and am quite powerful. That is all I need to know.”
Of all the people the Masters could have assigned, I had to get him. I stifled my frustration. “Okay, Skippy, let’s get started. I only have an hour.”
The thick, roaring warmth embraced me as I entered the shop. Hot smells of glass and the dusty scratch of sand filled my nose. Mara worked at a bench, shaping a bowl with Piecov assisting. A young novice heated the end of a blowpipe. Her hands left sweaty smudges on the metal.
Mara introduced Emilie as my new assistant. Emilie’s blond hair clung to her neck and she shrank back when I extended my hand in greeting. Wonderful.
“Thank you for the consideration, Mara. But you know I’m quite able to work on my own. I’m sure Emilie has homework to do.”
Before my sister could voice her protest, Emilie dashed out with hurried thanks. It was bad enough to have Skippy hovering; I wasn’t going to endure the girl’s frightened flutterings. Cranky? Who, me?
I pulled the blowpipe from the heater and blew through the pipe, checking to make sure nothing blocked it. The far end pulsed with reddish light. Hot glass only stuck to hot metal. I opened the kiln and gathered a slug of molten glass onto the pipe.
Using metal tweezers, I shaped the glass into a dog. When I reached the step where I should channel magic from the blanket of power and into the heart of the dog, I skipped it. Instead, I cut in a jack line and cracked the dog off the pipe. He went into the annealing oven to slowly cool.
Magicians would know he lacked magic. The dog wouldn’t glow with an inner fire, and they would see what everyone else saw when examining my sculptures. An ugly cocker spaniel.
Usually in an hour, I could make a dozen animals. This time, I ended up with five. None of them glowed with magic.
Skippy peered at me. His close-set brown eyes pinched together with suspicion. “I didn’t feel you draw magic.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t. I’ve been surrounded by a null shield for the past ten days. Perhaps I’ll be able to do it tomorrow.”
When I reported my lack of usable glass messengers to Mara, she tapped a finger on her desk. As the glass-shop manager, she ordered supplies, scheduled workers and maintained the kiln.
“Every day I’ve been getting orders for more,” she said. “The supply you left me is almost gone.” Her voice remained neutral, yet a question lurked.
“I’ll try again.”
“If you need help just let me know. You have my full support.”
We confused Skippy. He might be a powerful magician, but I suspected he lacked basic common sense.
He announced the return of the null shield with sneering glee. I ignored him, returning to my rooms to delve into history for Master Bloodgood. The project intrigued me and I scanned for information about glass magic as well as diamond magic.
I wanted to explore the possibility of using diamonds in my glass messengers. They might be useful someday when I reached an understanding with the Council. Until then, I would keep it quiet.
* * *
After a week of going through the motions at the glass shop and not producing any usable glass, Master Bloodgood questioned me in his office.
“What is the problem, child?”
“The null shield.” I flipped through an old book, seeking a reference.
“It should not be up when you are at the shop.”
“It isn’t.”
“Hale has reported that you have not accessed the power source.”
“Hale?” I thought. “Oh! Skippy.”
“Opal.” First Magician’s voice sliced the air. “He is a magician and your elder. You must show
him respect.”
“I’ll show him respect when he earns it.” I marveled at my audacity. This refusal to back down and be a good little girl had bubbled from deep inside.
“Is he the reason you are not producing the messengers?”
“No. It’s the null shield.” The penetrating way Master Bloodgood looked at me sent warning vibrations along my spine. If he wanted, he could lift the null shield and read my mind. He could force me to craft my glass if the Council granted him permission. The Ethical Code didn’t apply to convicted criminals.
“I see.” A shrewd gleam shone in his eyes. “I will talk to the Council. However, if they agree, Hale might be assigned as your almost constant companion.”
“He shouldn’t hinder my work.” An annoyance, but I could deal with his presence. One thing at a time. First the null shield.
* * *
The Council granted my request after a week-long debate. By this time, the shortage of glass messengers had reached a critical level. I increased my output and filled orders. Skippy and his friends, Junior and Buddy, took turns babysitting me.
At the beginning of the warm season, I invited Pazia to my rooms after my shift in the glass shop. Fifteen days had passed since I won my concession.
As soon as my door closed, she asked, “Why do you think babysitters are better than the null shield?”
“I’m hoping to outwit the babysitters.”
“Good luck.” She pulled her golden hair out of a ponytail, letting it cascade past her shoulders. Even dressed in stained work clothes, her slim waist and petite build were enhanced. She could wear a burlap sack and still have Piecov follow her around like a dog in heat.
“Tea?” I offered.
“Sure.” She glanced around my living area. “You could use a few pretties to brighten up the place.”
“I’m not allowed to have glass in here.”
“Oh.”
I placed a couple chunks of wood on the banked coals, prodding a fire to life for the teakettle.
“Mara would flip if she knew you had her coal.” Pazia grinned. “How about you do my mathematical assignment and I won’t rat you out?”
“Nice try. I’d rather endure Mara’s lecture than do pages of equations.”
“Me, too. I used to be able to get out of doing those assignments.”
I poured the hot water into two mugs. “How?”
“Most of my instructors were weaker than me. I just convinced them they had seen my homework.”
A reminder of how powerful she had been. She’d had the potential to be a Master Magician if it wasn’t for me. I handed her a steaming mug.
“Don’t start,” she said, correctly reading my expression. “You defended yourself.” She sipped her tea. “I’m sure you didn’t invite me here to reminisce.”
“No. We could only do that if we had good times together.”
“Well, visiting you in jail was fun for me,” Pazia teased.
“And saving you from those thugs at the jewelry store was fun for me,” I countered.
“All right. Point taken.”
We drank our tea in silence. I then asked her about her diamond-edged bowl. “Where did you get the idea?”
“The cobalt glass reminds me of sapphires and I love sapphires with diamonds. Blue and silver.”
“Where did you get the diamonds?”
She shot me a shrewd look. “You’re going someplace with this. Right?”
“Right.”
“I bought them from Elita. And, yes, she’s still in business. She helped to capture Mr. Lune, so was only slapped with a huge fine and probation for selling black-market diamonds.”
“Could the diamonds give you a power boost?”
“From hardly anything to barely something?” Sarcasm rendered her voice sharp. She drew in a breath, held it and released it. “Sorry. At a quarter carat, the diamonds are too small to hold any usable power. Maybe if I had put carat-size or larger on the bowl, I could enhance my magic.”
“How about if you put the diamond inside the glass?”
“Why would you do that?” The idea dismayed her.
I explained about the glass animals in Ognap with their ruby hearts.
“Odd. Most people who own jewels want to be able to touch them.”
“I felt a vibration, but I thought that was just me.” The animals had pulsed in my hand as if their hearts beat.
“It is you. Normal people feel a connection to the stone. More an affection than an actual buzz. To encase it in glass would...frustrate me. I would never do it.”
“I guess your father doesn’t mind. The sculptures had Vasko certificates.”
Pazia thumped her mug on the end table. “My father would never allow anyone to put his rubies in glass. Are you sure the certificates were genuine?”
“No. They could have been fakes. But how can your father control where his rubies go? Once he sells them, they could be resold without his knowledge.”
A humorless smile spread on her face. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to get your way when you have a lot of money and power. My father has contracts with his sellers to ensure they are sold properly. He hires auditors and undercover investigators to keep track of them.
“Hell, he tracks his rubies from the moment they are mined. No one steals from Vasko. He probably already knows about the fake certificates, but I’d like to send my father a message just in case.”
A reasonable request. “Sure. But before you go, do you think you could access magic from, say, a two-carat-charged diamond encased in glass?”
“I don’t know. We could experiment.”
“You could. I’m not allowed to experiment with glass.”
Understanding lit her face. “Who is going to pay for the diamond?”
“Wait here.” I retreated to my bedroom. Digging through the pockets of my cloak, I felt for an appropriate-size lump. When my fingers touched the smooth gem, an ice-cold pain pierced my hand. An image of Crafty filled my mind.
My arm turned numb as I rejoined Pazia. “Is this big enough?” I dropped the gem into her palm.
She pinched the diamond between her thumb and index finger. Holding it up to the firelight, she examined it. “It’s already charged with magic.” Awe filled her hushed voice. “Who’s magic is this?”
“Doesn’t matter. Keeping this quiet is all that matters right now.”
“Why?”
“Just testing a theory.”
“Opal...”
“It could be nothing. Just trust me on this.”
“You will explain it to me sometime?”
“I promise.”
“All right.” She pocketed the diamond. “I’ll let you know what happens.” She walked to the door and paused. Grinning, she yanked it open. Skippy tumbled into my room, landing in a heap on the floor.
Pazia tsked and stepped over him. “How rude, listening through the keyhole. Have you forgotten already?”
He untangled his legs and stood. “Forgotten what?”
She rapped on the open door. “Thick mahogany wood to protect the students. Almost soundproof. I hope the splinters in your ear don’t get infected.” Pazia turned to go, but glanced over her shoulder. “I take that back. I do hope the splinters get infected.”
* * *
I played the good little girl for another two weeks, then stopped making the messengers again. Called into Master Bloodgood’s office, I explained how the constant surveillance of Skippy and his crew had distracted me.
“He listens at my door when I have company,” I said. “I’ve no privacy. I’m sure after demonstrating my willingness to cooperate after a month and a half, the Council can relax. I’m in the Keep after all, surrounded by magicians.”
W
ith an amused half smile, Bain Bloodgood said he would present my...ah...request to the Council.
“Are you making any progress on your assignment?” he asked.
“No. I’ve gone through ten history books and haven’t found anything.” I couldn’t be the only glass magician. Then again, I hadn’t known about my powers until Yelena’s visit, when she saw the inner glow in my sculptures. Perhaps another possessed the same ability, but hadn’t realized the significance. “Master Bloodgood, I need to go to the market.”
He studied my face. “You have an idea. Wonderful. Of course, Hale must accompany you.”
“I’d be lonely without him.”
The next day between my morning workout with the Weapons Master and my afternoon classes, I headed west toward the Citadel’s market. Skippy trailed behind and I ignored his complaints about missing lunch.
Located dead center of the Citadel, the market was open every day until the hot season. Then it only opened one day a week. Many of the inhabitants left when the heat baked the Citadel’s marble walls, turning the whole place into a giant oven.
Businesses and factories radiated from the market like rings around a target. The residences of the citizens occupied the northwest and southwest corners.
The buzz of vendors and shoppers reached me first. Turning a corner, I stepped into the energy-filled market. After living a rather quiet existence, the smells and shouts threatened to overwhelm me. I hovered on the edge, watching the flow of commerce.
Soon a member of the Helper’s Guild appeared at my elbow. “Lovely lady, can I assist you today?” The young girl wore an eager expression. Her bright green sundress matched the color of her eyes.
“Yes. Can you please tell Fisk that Opal Cowan would like to speak to him?” I slipped her a copper.
Her demeanor stayed the same. “Master Fisk has trained me and I can help you as well as he can.”
“I know, but I’m a friend of...Master Fisk’s and I would like to talk with him.” I stifled a giggle over calling Fisk master. At fifteen, he was five years younger than me, but he founded the Helper’s Guild, creating jobs and income for poor and abandoned children. I reconsidered. The title of master suited him.
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