Glass Collection: Storm Glass / Sea Glass / Spy Glass. Maria V. Snyder
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the bundle when she first arrived. Either that or I had noticed, but denied its implication.
Two days. Two days wasn’t so bad. The kilns reached the perfect temperature in two days. My brother would finally apologize to me two days after hurting my feelings. Mother roasted her succulent pork for two days before she would let us eat the juicy meat. Two days was … two days of being a suspected criminal, locked in a drafty cell.
I fell asleep on the cot, waking only to the sound of a metal tray being slid under the door. Dinner. I gnawed on the stale bread, drank the tepid water and ate all of the thick soup.
The lanterns had been lit. Shadows, thin and black, vibrated on the stone wall opposite my cot. Shutters outside my window had been closed and bolted. With nothing else to do, I watched the flames dance inside the glass lanterns until the guard extinguished them, leaving me in darkness. I tried to sleep, hoping to spend as much time as possible in the oblivion of my dreams.
A click of a bolt and a gush of cold air woke me. Crouched next to my window was a figure. The person gestured. I stood on the bed for a better look.
Zitora sawed through one of the bars with a thin metal thread. The cord glittered in the pale moonlight. I figured she was a dream, until the unmistakable high-pitched rubbing sound of the diamond string reached me. With a pop, Zitora moved to the bottom of the bar.
“Watch for guards,” she said.
I hopped to the floor and positioned myself near the cell’s door, keeping alert for any signs. After enduring the nerve-racking, blood-numbing slide of the diamond string for an hour, I marveled that the guards, let alone the entire town hadn’t come over to investigate.
“Let’s go,” Zitora said.
“But—”
She shushed me. “Later. Pass me your cloak.”
I did as ordered.
“Give me your hand.”
Surprisingly strong, Zitora helped me through the narrow opening. Once I stood in the alley, she handed me my cloak and a rucksack. “Put these on and follow me.” She slung a bag over her shoulder.
I tied the garment under my chin, glad of the warmth. The heavy pack dragged on my shoulders, and liquid sloshed inside. Probably water skins, but I wondered where our original packs were. “I thought you were playing nice with the locals.”
“Changed my mind.”
We ghosted through the sleeping town, staying in the shadows as much as possible. The half-moon’s position in the sky indicated four hours remained until dawn. I asked Zitora about the horses, when we headed out of town.
“Too hard to hide,” she said.
I puzzled over her reply. With her magic, surely hiding two horses wouldn’t be any trouble.
We continued on the road, traveling north toward the Krystal Clan lands. The indigo plantations thinned, replaced with a smattering of pine forests. I tried to question Zitora on why she rescued me and where we were going, but only received clipped and vague answers.
When dawn brightened the eastern sky, we encountered a few fellow travelers on the road. Zitora turned into one of the clusters of pine trees. Pushing my way through the fragrant branches, I tried to keep up with her.
“Why are we in here?” I asked.
“Too many people. We’ll hide until dark.”
We reached a sandy clearing.
“Breakfast.” Zitora dropped her bag and rummaged through the contents.
I joined her in the open area and sat on the ground with relief. My legs ached from the hours of walking. Fire burned from my blistered shoulders. We split a few hunks of cheese and an apple. During the meal, Zitora kept glancing into the surrounding forest as if expecting someone to burst from the trees.
“Do you sense something?” I asked.
“No.”
I studied her. Her emotions were hard to decipher. Each interaction with Zitora seemed off. She acted distant and our student-teacher relationship was gone. Now she gave orders without explanation. Perhaps she was angry with me for causing so much trouble.
The sun cleared the treetops, warming the clearing. Tired from our flight, I considered napping.
Zitora stood and wiped the sand from her clothes. “I’ll check the surrounding area.”
Confused about why she wouldn’t just use her magic, I stared at her back. When she strode out of sight, I caught a glimpse of her shadow.
My heart locked. The black shape following her heels was not Zitora’s shadow. It was the shadow of a man with a sword hanging from his belt.
13
MY FIRST IMPULSE was to deny what my eyes had seen. In the quick glance I had of Zitora’s shadow, I couldn’t have discerned a man’s shape or a sword. Could I?
But it made perfect sense. Zitora had acted strange since freeing me last night. Even the rescue was out of character. She had been determined to prove me innocent.
I cursed myself for my incredible stupidity. If I was killed, it would be a good thing, preventing my idiocy from being passed on to my children. My self-recriminations wouldn’t help me now, so I ceased them and concentrated on what to do next.
Who was the shadow man? Blue Eyes? He wanted me for an unknown reason—unknown to me. Disguising himself as Zitora and tricking me into going with him was plausible. As a magician, he possessed the skill.
Scanning the surrounding pine trees, I searched for signs of his return. What should I do? Run? Hide? Yell for help? All three? In order or in a different order? My thoughts spun in place, failing to produce an answer.
Gut instinct urged me to run. Logic argued for hiding, but I dismissed the idea, knowing he would find me with his magic. We were away from the road, doubtful anyone would hear me if I screamed.
Another option presented itself, and every inch of me wanted to reject the notion. I could play along and find out what he wanted. That was the logical plan.
Taking in a few lungfuls of air, I settled my spinning thoughts. If I intended to pretend everything was normal, I needed to act calm.
Of course, as soon as he returned, a wedge of fear lodged under my heart. I hoped the terror hadn’t spread to my face. Concentrating on Zitora’s image, I tried to ignore the mismatched shadow and pretended the Master Magician was with me.
“Find anyone?” I asked.
“No, but there’s a trail through the forest. Let’s go.”
I regained my feet and brushed the sand off my pants. “Where are we going?”
“North to the Krystal Clan lands.”
“Then back to the Citadel and the Keep?”
“Eventually.” He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Let’s go.” Blue Eyes led the way through the pine trees.
Thick branches whacked me in the chest, but soon we broke through the dense cluster and traveled along a thin path. Conversation was kept to a bare minimum just as before. This time, though, I was glad for the quiet.
We stopped for a quick lunch. Fatigue dogged my steps and I lagged behind. Eventually, he decided to find a spot to sleep.
Worried about what the imposter would do while I slept, I fought to stay awake. I tried to think of a few questions to ferret out information about our destination or about his plans, but my overworked mind refused. Sleep won.
My round house of glass shook. It rocked in the wind and threatened to break. Cracks appeared, carving a spiderweb pattern along the smooth walls.
“Opal, wake up.” A man’s voice hissed in my ear.
My