Glass Collection: Storm Glass / Sea Glass / Spy Glass. Maria V. Snyder
a few more of your messengers, Opal.”
Hint taken, I used my workshop time to craft a variety of animals for the Masters to use to communicate.
My worry for Pazia tipped toward panic as three days passed without any change in her condition. She had gone too far in sending so many bees against us, and conjuring Greenblade bees was just plain cruel. I could claim I acted in self-defense. Although I didn’t like her, I hadn’t wanted to cause her real harm.
During those three days, Ulrick’s special sand arrived and we loaded the mix into the kiln to melt, planning for him to demonstrate his vase-making method the next day. Just as we were leaving the shop, one of Healer Hayes’s assistants ran up to us.
“Pazia is awake. Master Cowan wants you to come. Now,” he said, before running back to the infirmary.
Thank fate! Relief gave me a burst of energy and I kept pace with the assistant, slowing only when we reached the door to Pazia’s room. Ulrick was right behind me.
A little color had returned to her cheeks, but exhaustion left dark circles under her eyes. She stared at me. Horror and accusation pulsed from her. Healer Hayes propped her against the pillows and Zitora positioned a tray of food on her lap.
“Eat. And it’s not a request,” she said.
I glanced at Zitora. Her concern was evident, but before I could explain, she asked me, “Did you feel tired after your experiment with Pazia?”
Surprised by the odd question, I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. “No. Why?”
Zitora looked at Pazia. She moved her fork to her mouth as if it weighed a hundred pounds.
“You must have used Pazia’s energy to channel her own magic.”
“Is that why she collapsed?”
“Not the whole reason. Pazia?”
She finished chewing, then paused as if summoning the strength to speak. “You stole everything from me. Every bit of magic. I have none left.”
23
“WHAT DO YOU mean none?” I asked.
Pazia dropped the fork onto the tray and fell back against her pillows. The effort of eating and talking was too much for her. I turned to Zitora. The Master Magician’s worry alarmed me.
“Her magic will come back, won’t it?” I asked.
“We don’t know. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Don’t do any more channeling until we know for sure.”
Ulrick and I left Pazia’s room. We returned to my quarters in the apprentice wing, but I had no memory of the trip. When Ulrick suggested we eat dinner, the thought of food soured my stomach. What if Pazia’s magic never returned? The possibility frightened me to the core.
“If you can strip a person’s magic with those orbs,” Ulrick said, “we don’t have to worry about Tricky anymore. I wonder if you could take Master Cowan’s power.”
“Ulrick, I don’t want to talk about it. I may have destroyed Pazia’s ability to use magic. There is no positive side.” I entered my bedroom and shut the door.
I lay on top of the bed and stared at the ceiling. Unable to stop my thoughts, I watched as they replayed the series of events over and over and over in my mind. Filling the orb with Pazia’s bees felt effortless and I had been fine when Tricky had attacked with the spiders.
What else had I done with the orbs? I had helped Kade with the storm. But then exhaustion claimed me as soon as we finished. In that case, Kade’s energy was depleted—he struggled to control the bubble of calm keeping him from the storm’s fury. I had given him my energy to use as he harvested the storm’s essence. If he had tried to attack me with wind, could I channel it? I shied away from the answer.
I must have fallen asleep, because Ulrick woke me in the morning. I picked at my breakfast, letting the drone of conversation flow around me. Mara joined us and we headed for the glass shop.
Excitement and pride used to bloom whenever I saw the new shop, but not this time. Mara and I helped Ulrick create his vases. Beautiful long-necked pieces with swirls of color. He had purchased a number of different colored crystals to dip the molten glass into. The crystals melted when heated, coloring the glass.
I couldn’t tell if he used magic while working with the pieces. Only when the vases cooled and I could touch them would I know if he had trapped magic inside.
“Opal, you haven’t said a word all day. You shouldn’t worry so much. I’m sure Pazia will be fine,” Mara said.
Cracking off Ulrick’s last vase, I transferred it to the annealing oven.
“No sense moping about it until you know for certain,” Ulrick said. “Come on.” He gathered a ball of molten glass. “I saved you some of my mix to play with.”
Outnumbered, I worked at the gaffer’s bench. The glass moved as if made of silk. It was easy to shape and fun to manipulate. It didn’t take long for my dark mood to lighten.
“Is the flexibility due to the Krystal Clan’s gold sand?” I asked him.
“Nice try, but I’m not telling you the mix ingredients.”
The next day the vases cooled down enough to handle. Popping in my hands, they held Ulrick’s magic within them. But Mara couldn’t “feel” the vibrations at all.
When Ulrick and I both held the vase, it sang a sad tune. Mara heard nothing when she tried holding it with him.
A few of our student helpers had arrived. We tested a vase on each of them. No one could feel the pops, but they heard a song with Ulrick’s touch. The song was different for each person. We puzzled over the discrepancy. After a few more tries with different vases, we discovered a person would hear his unique song no matter which vase he touched.
“Piecov, how are you feeling?” Mara asked him.
The first-year student frowned in confusion. “I feel fine.”
She shook her head. “Are you happy, sad, lonely?”
“Oh. I’m rather glad. I found out this morning I passed my history test.”
“Touch the vase with Ulrick again,” she instructed.
Piecov complied.
“Does the song you hear match your mood?”
He considered for a moment. “Yes.”
She asked the others and they agreed. We strolled around the Keep’s campus and tested the vases on the other students. Even going so far as to interrupt an argument. In each instance, the student’s song reflected his or her mood. We also couldn’t find any other magician who could feel the vase’s vibrations. Not even Ulrick felt it—only me. Even when I held the vase with another, I couldn’t hear a song and the vase remained inert. We returned to the shop.
“A mood indicator,” Ulrick said in disgust. “And not even my moods, but others. A useless parlor trick!”
“I wouldn’t say useless,” I said. “You might be able to use the vases to interrogate criminals, find out if they feel guilty or are lying.”
“Not the job I hoped for.” He snatched a broom and swept the floor with hard strokes.
“We might still discover other uses for your pieces.” I straightened the workbenches, replacing the tools.
He didn’t comment as we finished cleaning up the shop. I understood his disappointment. Four years in the Keep had been one letdown after another for me. But the Keep’s instructors had been trying to teach me to use magic in the traditional ways. Only when I had been in dire situations did my other abilities manifest themselves. While I wouldn’t recommend that method, perhaps Ulrick would have other opportunities to find