Sea Glass

5

NOT REMAINING LOCKED IN THE “GUEST” ROOM HAD BEEN MY plan all along. I’d been in the Councilor’s Hall before, but I doubted I could waltz out the front door without raising any alarms. Instead, I followed Devlen.

The guard stationed at my door lay in a heap on the floor. I touched his neck. A strong pulse throbbed. Thank fate.

Stepping over him, I hurried down the hallway as fast as I could without making too much noise. Devlen disappeared around a corner. Only one torch lit the corridor. Its weak light struggled against the darkness.

When I reached the turn, I almost ran into him. He placed a finger to his lips and gestured for me to wait. A glow at the end of the hall brightened, illuminating an intersection. Faint voices echoed on the smooth marble walls. Two people strode into sight. One held a blazing torch. They conversed in tight whispers, arguing at low volume.

I steeled myself as they turned down our hallway. Devlen grabbed my hand and pulled me back around the corner. We pressed against the wall. If they came our way, we would be seen. If they kept straight, we should be fine.

Their shadows arrived before they did, and snatches of the two men’s conversation reached me.

“…doesn’t matter. She’s the Councilor…”

“…acting…we can’t trust…”

We froze as they crossed the intersection, but the intensity of their argument claimed all their attention.

I relaxed until I realized Devlen hadn’t released my hand. Before I could pull away, he drew me forward. Our connection made ghosting through the Hall easier. Whenever Devlen paused to listen or to wait for a late-night worker to clear an area, he signaled me by squeezing my hand.

We exited the building through the kitchen door, which led us to an empty alley. Our footsteps ricocheted in the silence, and I fought the urge to tiptoe. Devlen strode without stopping. He slowed after we traveled a few blocks from the Councilor’s Hall, but kept my hand in his firm grip.

When I tried to yank it away, he said, “At this time of night, it would be better if we are seen holding hands, adding to the illusion we are lovers going for a moonlit stroll.”

I snorted. “Who would see us? And why would they care?”

“The Moon Clan soldiers are out in force tonight. A prisoner has escaped from jail earlier this evening.”

Janco. He probably had led the guards on a merry chase through the city just to pass the time. Or perhaps Devlen referred to himself? No. From what Tama said, no one believed me about the switched souls.

“When were you released?” I asked.

“Yesterday morning. In fact, you have spent more time in a Fulgor cell than I.”

“Wonderful,” I snapped.

We reached a main street. A few citizens hustled over the cobblestones. They kept their gazes down and shoulders hunched as if walking into a stiff wind. But the cooling air remained calm and the half moon’s sharp edge gleamed in the clear night sky.

Guards patrolled the streets. We passed a few who squinted at us. Each time, Devlen would smile at me, pretending to be in the midst of a pleasant conversation.

“Do not stare, Opal. Your attention should be focused on me. We are having a lovely chat.”

“Okay. Now you can tell me why I needed to leave the Councilor’s Hall.”

“My sister, Gre—”

“Gressa is not your sister.” The words growled from my throat.

He held up his free hand. “No sense arguing. This is important. The Councilor told Gressa you had no intention of using your leverage with the Council.”

“I promised I would think about it.”

“I am sure you would. But we all know you will comply with the Council’s decision.”

“I disobeyed their order,” I retorted. He had called me an accommodating doormat before. Although I had proven him wrong and freed myself and Kade, my current situation didn’t support my argument. I avoided contemplating my current predicament. It wouldn’t be good for my mental stability.

“I was quite proud of your defiance. But it is obvious that you will not turn rogue and stay in Fulgor. Gressa knows this, as well, and she is intent on keeping you here.”

“It wouldn’t work. She can’t force me to make the glass messengers.”

I wanted to ignore Devlen’s expression. His raised eyebrow implied she damn well could. He would only need a few hours.

“How would she explain about my failure to return to the Citadel and the fact she has my glass animals?”

“For your disappearance, she will report you have escaped. As for the messengers, she could claim her brother has learned how to craft them, and that is why you are so intent on discrediting him…me.” He shot me a sly smile.

“That’s ridiculous.” However, knowing Gressa, I’d bet she could pull it off. And Devlen hadn’t released my hand. I scanned the street. Was he leading me to a place Gressa had prepared for my…stay? A vision of me chained to a kiln flashed through my mind. What happened to all those guards on the street?

Brilliant plan, yell for help from soldiers who work for the Councilor and her top aide. I almost groaned aloud. The unconscious guard next to my room would be used as proof of my escape. This quiet late-night stroll wouldn’t attract notice. I’d aided in my own kidnapping. Idiot wasn’t a strong enough word for me.

Devlen chuckled. “Just figuring it out?”

“Yep.”

“It would have been a neat trick.”

Would have been? Confused, I remembered he had grabbed my wrist, planning to use force, but dropped my arm. Part of the act?

“Opal, look.” He pointed to the end of the street. Quartz and Moonlight’s stable was a block away. “Your Ixian is waiting inside.” Devlen glanced at the sky. “Midnight, or close enough. Did you choose the time for dramatic reasons?”

“I improvised. How did you overhear our conversation in the jail?”

“Once the annoying Ixian escaped, the guards reported everything to the Councilor’s Aide, with whom I happened to be at the time. I figured out your clues, but Gressa did not.”

“Why are you helping me? You obviously intend to keep masquerading as Ulrick. With me…out of the way, it’ll be easier for you.”

He stopped and turned toward me. “Gressa is cunning and smart. She knows what happened to her brother, and has ensured my cooperation by threatening to expose and arrest me. Since I do not wish to be incarcerated, I will follow her orders.” Releasing my hand, he stepped back. “If you are gone, then I will not be ordered to force you to make messengers for her. I do not want to hurt you ever again.”

“You have to come with us,” I said. “Once we find Ulrick, we’ll need you.”

“If Ulrick wants to switch back to his body, bring him here. I am working for Gressa. She has given me a staff position.”

I muffled an hysterical cackle. Devlen a government employee while I remained a fugitive? At this point, I couldn’t imagine how my life could get any more distorted and unreal. “Why would you stay here? Why not run away before she can arrest you?”

His gaze searched the street and he tilted his head back as if scenting the wind. “Something is…odd. I am worried you might be in more danger. If I stay here, I am in a better position to help you.”

“You’ll risk getting captured for a vague feeling?”

He shrugged. “I need something to do while you search for Ulrick.”

“You’re that confident he won’t want to switch back?”

“Yes. And when you finally realize the truth, make sure you stop by Fulgor to apologize to me.”

“Apologize to you!” I almost screamed the words.

“I already apologized to you. Travel safe, Opal. I am missing you already.” Devlen spun on his heel and strode away from the stable. When he reached the end of the street, he glanced back, flashed me a smile and disappeared around a corner.

I hurried toward the stable as my thoughts whirled. Devlen was an evil Daviian Warper, who’d tortured, kidnapped and tricked me. Even though he could no longer access the power source, he remained dangerous. His limited knowledge of the Kirakawa ritual could be taught to another. Or he could try to reclaim his powers. I didn’t know enough about my own new abilities to determine if anyone’s blood would return his magic or if it had to be mine.

Ever since I drained him of power, he had been…different. No longer driven by his addiction to blood magic, he acted content. Acted being the key word. With his ability to sweet-talk his way out of any situation, and with his ease in living in Ulrick’s skin, I would be a fool to trust him. Too bad being a fool was my best skill.

When I reached the stable, Janco had already saddled the horses. Quartz nickered and pushed her muzzle into my chest. I scratched her behind the ears.

Janco tied a couple of feed bags onto Moonlight’s saddle. “How ja escape? I was all set to launch a rescue. A damsel-in-distress story is worth at least a couple of free ales at the pub.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Devlen could tell that tale, though I didn’t think he would. If Gressa discovered he had helped me, he would be in serious trouble. An anonymous message to Gressa would complicate his new life. I grinned.

“Do you have juicy details?” Janco asked. “Do tell!”

“Later. Aren’t you worried about riding out of here? They’re searching for you.”

Janco mounted Moonlight with one graceful movement. Impish delight lit his eyes. “They have me cornered on the north side of town. They believe I’m heading toward Ixia. We have another hour or so before the game is up.”

“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 wasteland 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.