(Glass #3) Spy Glass

by Maria V. Snyder

  “No.” I pulled Councilor Moon’s letter from my pocket and handed it to him. “I’ve a request.”

  Alden scanned the document. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Take Nic and Eve with you. The three of you seem to work well together.”

  I barked out a humorless laugh. Originally, I had planned to request them. “I don’t think they would…enjoy the assignment. I’ll take your two best officers.”

  He gave me a sardonic smile. “They are my best officers. I don’t assign people based on enjoyment, but on skills. When do you need them to start?”

  “Right away. I should brief them.” I suppressed a cringe. This was not going as I had imagined.

  Gesturing for me to take his seat, he strode to the door. “There’s no privacy out there, I’ll send them in for the briefing.”

  I sat down, placed my elbows on the neat desk and rested my head on my hands for a moment. The air thickened when they entered. A surly resentment pulsed from Nic, but Eve seemed more annoyed at her partner than at me.

  Tossing a small sackful of coins across the desk, I outlined what I needed them to do. They nodded in understanding. Eve tucked the purse into her pocket, and they left to prepare for the assignment.

  I had completed my business at HQ before noon. Glad for the extra time, I led Quartz to Justamere Farm and groomed her. The owners were happy to see her, but I explained she would be there for one night only. After I had brushed all the road dirt from her copper coat, I checked on my factory.

  Stale air and dust puffed in my face when I entered the factory. Darkness filled the first floor and I groped for the lantern, hoping it remained in the stone alcove. I found and lit it, breathing a little easier when the soft light illuminated the kilns. Walking around, I inspected the equipment. In order to return this place to a true glass shop, I would have to tear down the boards on the windows and install shutters.

  The apartment upstairs looked undisturbed. I pulled back the curtains and the late-afternoon sunlight revealed the dust motes. Valek had left a few of his belongings behind. I straightened a couple things and rolled up the blueprint of Wirral. The place echoed and I longed for company. After shaking out my sheets and dumping my pack onto the bed, I debated about supper.

  I had planned to go to the Pig Pen and have a bowl of Ian’s stew with my friends. The memory of Nic’s accusation ruined my appetite. And I would not visit Devlen. Instead, I lit extra lanterns and brought them downstairs. I practiced blocks and strikes with my sais.

  Concentrating on perfecting a set of moves, I almost dropped my weapons when a loud bang cracked through the air. It took me a second to realize someone had pounded on the door.

  I peered through the peephole and groaned. Nic waited on the other side. This would not be fun. Wiping my sweaty hands on my stained practice tunic, I opened the door and let him and the gray twilight in.

  We stood in the front room. Gressa had used this space for her store. Nic carried a package wrapped in wax paper, and I still held my sais with the tips pointing toward the floor.

  He eyed them. “Planning to attack me?”

  I glanced at his uniform and sword. “Depends. Did you come to arrest me for murder?”

  He sucked in a breath. I waited.

  Releasing the air in a rush, he said, “Damn it, Opal. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you really? Or did Eve make you come?”

  “I am. I was mad and had jumped to conclusions.”

  “Heck of a jump.”

  “No it wasn’t. You didn’t trust us with your plans. Why would we trust you?”

  “I trusted you with my life, Nic. Remember all those early mornings?”

  “Yeah, well…I said I was sorry.” He held out the package to me. “Peace?”

  I sheathed my sais and took it. Warmth radiated under the wax paper. Curious, I peeled back an edge, releasing a yummy scent. Ian’s stew. My stomach growled. “You’re forgiven,” I said.

  With those two words he returned to his old self. “Are you going to tell us more about this new assignment?” he asked.

  “Is Eve waiting outside?”

  “No. She thought I should talk to you myself or you’d think she made me apologize.”

  “Did she?”

  His face creased into his wounded puppy dog expression. “No. She just explained a few things, made me remember you aren’t the killer type.” He hooked his thumbs on his weapon belt. “When I get mad my brain turns off.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” I smirked. “And Eve’s right, I’m not the type to murder my husband. He committed suicide. Poor guy had rotten aim.”

  I laughed as Nic sorted it out.

  “I knew it was you!” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “But if you didn’t kill those prisoners, who did?”

  “Finn.”

  “You’re sticking with that?” Nic asked.

  “Yep.”

  He grunted, but didn’t comment.

  The stew cooled in my hands. “Come upstairs. I’ll give you a few more details about our trip to Ognap.”

  Nic shook his head. “Tell us tomorrow. I wasn’t planning to stay.”

  “Oh.”

  He smirked at my disappointment. “I know I haven’t been that supportive of your…new interests. So I brought you another peace offering.”

  “A mug of Ian’s mulled ale?”

  Nic didn’t answer. He opened the door and disappeared.

  While he was gone, I tried to guess—a new weapon, a bottle of Ian’s house wine—but none of them came close.

  Nic returned with Devlen.

  22

  I STEPPED BACK AND I THINK I GASPED. “HOW…? When…?”

  Devlen stood in my front room. Devlen. He wore civilian clothes. His hesitant smile faded and he glanced at Nic in uncertainty.

  Nic said, “We can sign prisoners out for a few hours at a time. Only the ones who have earned a ton of trust. Your guy here stopped a riot at Dawnwood. He received major points with the prison along with a nasty gash and death threats from his fellow inmates. He’s being housed in protective custody—a special wing of the prison.” He looked at Devlen. “I hear they have real beds in there. It’s pretty nice, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Devlen said, but his worried gaze was fixed on me.

  My muscles had petrified. I couldn’t move or speak.

  “Anyway, I thought you two would like to catch up. You have three hours before he has to return,” Nic said. “I’ll be back then.”

  “Opal, are you okay with this?” Devlen asked in concern.

  More than okay. That was the problem. I nodded and forced myself to relax as Nic left. Devlen didn’t move. An awkward silence filled the air.

  “Come upstairs,” I said to Devlen. “I need to heat this up before I starve to death.”

  A tentative smile flashed as his blue eyes shone with hope. My insides liquefied and pure willpower kept me from tossing the stew aside and…what? Why could I be so rational about him when I was with Kade, yet when he stood mere feet from me, my heart acted like a teenage girl with her first crush?

  With effort, I concentrated on moving my feet without falling as I led him through the factory.

  “Grab a lantern,” I said to break the quiet. “I didn’t light a fire upstairs.” Which meant Nic’s peace offering would have to wait.

  As expected, darkness covered the upper rooms. I lit a couple more lanterns while Devlen crouched next to the hearth and stacked kindling. His quick and sure movements reminded me of his skills with a sword. A chill zipped along my skin and I rubbed my arms. Still damp from my workout, my practice tunic smelled rank.

  I hurried to the washroom to change and rinse off as much sweat as possible with a sponge and small bowl of water. At least my extra tunic and dark brown pants were clean and dry.

  By the time I returned, Devlen’s fire blazed on top of a bed of coals and he had transferred my stew to an iron pot. He sat close to the flames. The bright light illuminated his sharp features a
nd the scar on his neck. He wore a plain white shirt half tucked into black pants. I wondered if he’d borrowed them from one of the correctional officers.

  I perched on the edge of the hearth, joining him.

  “I miss having a fire at night,” he said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It reminds me of my childhood in the plains. At night, the elders would gather around the fire and tell stories. It was the best part of the day.”

  “Were they Story Weavers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have a large family?”

  “No. My mother died in childbirth and my father was always busy. He was one of the leaders of the clan. He only became interested in me when I developed magic, which just fueled my desire to irritate him as much as possible.” Devlen added another log. “Things might have been different if I had a big family like yours.”

  Remembering my mother’s anger, I said, “I wouldn’t be so sure. Upsetting family members is pretty standard.” I watched the flames lick at the new log as if deciding to consume it or not. “Do you think of the plains as home?”

  “No. What about you? Where’s home?”

  “It used to be my parents’ house in Booruby.”

  “Used to be? What about now?”

  “I don’t know. No place really feels right.”

  “Perhaps you should fire up one of those kilns downstairs.”

  Surprised, I met his gaze. “I’m only here for tonight. Didn’t Nic tell you?”

  “No. He said you had returned, but nothing else. I was just happy you came back.” He grabbed a poker and fished out a few coals. They glowed. He set the pot on top of them to heat the stew. “Was your mission a success?”

  I should have kept the distance between us. But as I had told Kade, I needed him. And Yelena had even suggested I talk to him. So I did. “It was a disaster.” Once the words started to flow, everything poured forth. My immunity, Reema and Teegan, the detectors…everything.

  Finally, from deep down where I had shoved it, a horrible admission bubbled to the surface. “Despite all that, I’d give anything to get my magic back. I’d do anything. Does that mean I’m addicted to magic?”

  Devlen had listened without uttering a word. He spread his arms, inviting me close.

  The knots already twisting in my stomach tugged harder. I remained in place. “I’m confused about that, too.”

  He tried to cover his disappointment by ladling the stew into a bowl and handing it to me.

  “I can’t—”

  “Eat something. You’ll feel better,” he said.

  “You sound like my mother before I landed on her bad side.”

  “I’m sure her ire is temporary.”

  I considered. “But how many times can you upset someone and still return to normal? Isn’t there a point when the person gives up on you?”

  “It would depend on the person. I think in the case of mothers, you’d have to do more than be late for your sister’s wedding.”

  What about with Kade? I filled my mouth with stew to keep from asking Devlen that question. The warm meat tasted divine, and I attacked the rest.

  “Feel better?” he asked when I finished.

  “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “One problem solved.” He moved to a more comfortable position on the couch.

  “And only three hundred more to go.” I joked, but it was halfhearted.

  Devlen smiled. “One at a time.”

  Not good enough. I wanted to snap my fingers and be done with the decisions and the problems.

  “Opal, come here.” He pointed to the cushion next to him. “To talk,” he added, sensing my reluctance.

  I sat, but couldn’t relax. When I stood to pace, Devlen grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, tucking me under his arm. For a moment I stiffened. Then I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder.

  “There’re no easy answers,” he said. “The only thing I can assure you of, is you are not addicted to magic. We both know there’re many things you wouldn’t do to get your magic back. Wishes and desires don’t mean an addiction. I know.”

  “How about an obsession?”

  “No. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone to the Citadel to help Teegan. You would have stayed with Valek to hunt for your blood.”

  “But—”

  He put his fingers on my lips. “Stop second-guessing yourself. Do what you need to do. Don’t apologize. When the time comes, you’ll know what is important and what isn’t.” He dropped his hand.

  “I thought you said there weren’t any easy answers.”

  “I didn’t say it would be easy. Sometimes being true to yourself is the hardest thing to do.”

  I straightened and met his gaze. “That sounded like a Story Weaver platitude.”

  “Platitude number five. My favorite,” he teased.

  I punched him. It was a light blow, but he winced. Before he could stop me, I pulled his shirt up, revealing a six-inch wound on his torso. It was stitched closed with black thread.

  “Didn’t you go to the healer?” I asked.

  “There aren’t any healers in prison.”

  “Devlen, stopping riots and becoming a target isn’t necessary. You’ve proven your commitment.”

  “I did it for me.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  He tugged his shirt back down. “My actions earned me three hours with you here and not in a sterile visiting room. If I accumulate enough points, I could be released early. So I am being selfish.”

  Released early? The words hit me hard. I sprang to my feet. This time he didn’t pull me back. I paced.

  “What would you do?” I asked.

  “Do you want the truth? Or for me to tell you something that wouldn’t scare you?”

  I halted. “What does that mean?”

  “Right now, I think the truth would scare you away.”

  Unable to remain still, I carried the pot and stew bowl to the kitchen. Reema had worried about the same thing. But, damn it, I wasn’t easy to scare anymore. And I was tired of avoiding uncomfortable situations.

  I returned to the living area. “Tell me.”

  He kept his face neutral, but his gaze burned with intensity. “There’s only one thing I wish to do when I’m released. Be with you.”

  Proud I didn’t panic, I asked, “What if I recover my magic and am sent on missions for the Council?”

  “I’ll provide backup.”

  “What if I decide to join Valek’s corp?”

  “I’ll sign up.”

  “What if I decide to stay in Fulgor and make glass?”

  “Just tell me if you need a slug gathered on a pontil iron or a blowpipe.”

  “What if I decide to stay with Kade on the coast?”

  He didn’t flinch. “I’ll respect your decision.”

  “And?”

  “I’d find a job here. I do enjoy helping others, and maybe I can put my Story Weaver skills to use. Perhaps Nic’s captain would hire me.”

  “He’d be an idiot not to.” I wondered if I would be an idiot to walk away from someone who would be content being with me no matter what. But I didn’t quite understand why. “I get that you want to make amends. But don’t you want a life of your own?”

  “I already did the life of my own and I did horrible, terrible things. As I said before, you inspire me to be a better person. I fell in love with you while I was disguised as Ulrick. Even through the haze of addiction, I saw your willingness to sacrifice for others. And even with your search for your blood you still gave up precious time to help Councilor Moon, Reema and Teegan. Any one of those delays may have cost you the return of your magic. Do you regret doing them?”

  “No.”

  “That’s why I want to be with you. And perhaps, someday I will deserve your kindness. And eventually I might even earn your love.” Unable to wait for my reaction, he asked, “Have I scared you away?”

  “It would be easier if you did.”
I joined him on the couch, and tucked my feet up under me. “I do admire your calm acceptance of your life and how you know exactly what you want.”

  He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “You will, too, Opal. Give it time.”

  “I need to find my blood.”

  “And that will solve all your problems?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes. But before you go all Story Weaver on me, it also isn’t an excuse to avoid making decisions.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because once I either reclaim my blood or I know it’s lost forever, then I’ll know who I am.”

  “I see.” His tone implied otherwise.

  “I’ll either be Opal Cowan, the glass magician, or Opal Cowan, the antimagician.”

  “Antimagician?”

  “You know…” I gestured. “Immune to magic. Yelena occasionally uses it to describe Valek.”

  “Interesting. But why can’t you be Opal Cowan without a descriptor?”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, then tried to explain. “A person’s actions define who they are. It doesn’t matter what he says, or what he wishes he could do. It all comes down to…”

  “What she sacrifices,” he said.

  “I miss it, Devlen. More than Kade, more than…anything. I miss the way my glass pieces sang to me. The magic connected me to the world. I feel cut off. Isolated.” All my energy fled. I had worked hard to suppress those feelings. To not admit it to myself, let alone another. I didn’t want to dwell on the grief, but to focus on fixing it because there was only one cure.

  “Your anger is gone. And you’ve filled the emptiness.”

  I pulled away. “Haven’t you been listening? I haven’t. It’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “I’ve been paying attention. You haven’t. But you will.”

  “Another Story Weaver inanity. You have it easier.”

  He shook his head. “Waiting is never easy.”

  After five days on the road, I arrived in Ognap alone. Nestled in the foothills of the Emerald Mountains, Ognap buzzed with activity. The town’s main income centered on the gemstones mined from the mountains. Factories charged with transforming the raw uncut stones into sparkling gems lined the busy streets. Well-protected caravans of loose stones headed west toward the Jewelrose Clan where they would be set into various types of jewelry and goods.