Glass Collection: Storm Glass / Sea Glass / Spy Glass. Maria V. Snyder

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Glass Collection: Storm Glass / Sea Glass / Spy Glass - Maria V. Snyder


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that I was a jinx to all magicians.

      A knock pulled me from my musings. Going into the other room, I peered through the window. Ulrick.

      Surprised, I opened the door.

      “I thought I saw you in the dining hall,” he said. “Welcome back.”

      I sputtered for a moment before words formed. “Come in.” Moving back, I berated myself for my bumbling. If Ulrick noticed, he didn’t say anything.

      He walked around the room. On the left side, there was a couch in front of the hearth. Table and chairs occupied the right side, and a desk rested along the back wall and next to my bedroom door.

      “This is nice. They have me in the guest quarters for now, but if they see any potential I might get a more permanent spot.” Ulrick peeked into my bedroom.

      “How long have you been here?”

      “Two days. I already met with Master Bloodgood, but he thought we should wait for you and Master Cowan before doing more formal testing.” He scanned the papers on my desk, and fiddled with my quill.

      “I saw you already made friends.” I tried to keep my voice even as if commenting on the weather.

      He shrugged. “The kids are sweet and they’ve been very helpful in showing me the Keep.” Moving over to my table, he picked up one of my sais. He hefted the weapon and jabbed the air with the shaft.

      “You’re bored.”

      He stopped in midsweep. “Is it that obvious?”

      “You’re fighting an invisible opponent.”

      Ulrick laughed and set the sais back down. “I was on the road for six days and here for two. I’m used to working in the factory every day. I need …” He made a vague gesture with his hands.

      “I know what you need.”

      “You do?”

      “Yes. I need it, too. Follow me.”

      “Where’ve you been?” Aydan demanded. Never one to waste time on pleasantries, he went straight to the point.

      I smiled at the old glassmaker. “I’ve been on a mission for the Masters.”

      “Mission?” He glanced at Ulrick.

      I introduced him to Aydan. “Another glass magician?”

      “Maybe,” Ulrick amended before shaking Aydan’s hand.

      The glassmaker snorted. “Another with confidence problems. At least Opal admits she’s a magician.” He handed me a blowpipe. “Gather me a slug.”

      I scanned the small shop. No signs of an assistant. Raising an eyebrow, I looked at Aydan.

      “I can’t find anybody good. They’re all lazy. All whine about the heat and noise.”

      I exchanged a smile with Ulrick. We were probably the only two people in the Citadel who would seek out the glass shop for comfort. “Perhaps you need to hire someone from Booruby.”

      “Pah. I don’t have the time. Besides, I can do it myself.”

      Why did men get so stubborn when they grew older? I sighed. “If I find you an assistant from Booruby, will you let them stay?”

      He gave me a grudging nod. My thoughts turned to my sister, Mara. If she came here to work with Aydan, she would be closer to her beau, Leif. And to me. Selfish, I knew, but I would send her a message.

      “Good. In the meantime, I’ll help you.” I hefted the iron rod.

      Ulrick pulled the pipe from my hands. “We’ll help.”

      Aydan chuckled. “Now we’re talking. Gather me a two-inch slug, boy.” He settled on his bench and arranged his tools. “Opal, make me a domed punty and tell me about this mission.”

      The two of us worked together as Aydan crafted a variety of vases and bowls. I filled them in on what I had been doing for the Stormdancers, skipping a few details. Uncertain about my ability to channel another magician’s magic into glass, I decided not to divulge my role in helping Kade or mention the spider incident. I also failed to tell them about Devlen’s attack in Thunder Valley, although I didn’t know why.

      At one point Ulrick interrupted. “They made a glass studio out of wood? That’s idiotic.”

      “It’s cheaper and faster to build,” Aydan said.

      “And it worked to my advantage.” I continued the story of my escape.

      “Damn. All that equipment burned.” The glassmaker clucked his tongue.

      Ulrick, though, appeared horrified. “How can you say that when Opal could have been killed?”

      “She’s here, ain’t she? Shovel more coal into the kiln, will ya.”

      Muttering under his breath, Ulrick grabbed a shovel.

      When Aydan finished his last bowl, he stood and stretched his arms and back. “There’s some melt left, refill it when you’re done.” Without another word, he left the workshop, heading next door to his home.

      Ulrick stopped shoveling. “What is it with older glassmakers? They order you around and go off without a thank-you or goodbye. My mother’s the same way.”

      “When you have a limited time left to live, would you want to waste it on small talk?” My brush with disaster had caused me to realize again how precious life was. Interesting how after Alea had released me over four years ago, I had felt the same way, intending to enjoy every free moment of life. Yet I had lapsed back into a daily routine, wishing my time away.

      Ulrick looked at me. Strands of black hair clung to his sweaty forehead. The urge to wipe the dirt off his strong chin pulsed in my chest. I wished I could render his proportioned features in glass so I could stare at him without blushing, and I reconsidered sending the note about Aydan to my sister. Ulrick certainly wouldn’t be paying attention to me if Mara was here.

      I squirmed under his continued scrutiny. “Aydan mentioned melt. Would you like to work the glass?”

      “Could you show me how to make animal shapes? My mother always thought it was a waste of time.” He shrugged. “No money in it. But I’d like to learn.”

      We worked together and, with my guidance, he made a swan. The piece didn’t resemble a first effort. Ulrick’s skills with the glass were impressive.

      With the second animal, I gathered the molten glass onto the end of a blowpipe. When he finished shaping the legs and tail of a pig, I instructed him to blow through the pipe. The creature’s body expanded as it should. Although well crafted, the pig didn’t glow with magic. I didn’t mention the lack of power. What worked for me didn’t have to work for him, but my curiosity about how he inserted the magic into his pieces grew.

      “Can you make one of your vases? One that sings?” I asked.

      “No. I need a special sand mix. It’s your turn. I’d like to see you work your magic.”

      Remembering his failure to see the inner glow in Zitora’s unicorn, I said, “You probably won’t be able to see it.”

      “Maybe I just need to be here. What are you going to make?”

      “I don’t know.”

      He huffed. “You sound just like my sister. How can you not know?”

      I shrugged.

      “I have to have the image of my finished piece firmly in mind before I sit down at the bench. Otherwise I end up with a cold slug of glass.”

      When I couldn’t provide the exact reason my method worked for me, he gathered the last of the melt. All distractions disappeared as I focused on rolling the pipe and shaping the glass. My mind open to the slight nuances in the glass, I used my tweezers


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