Glass Collection: Storm Glass / Sea Glass / Spy Glass. Maria V. Snyder
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we transport the orb to one of our factories. But with these new orbs, as soon as they are sealed the energy bursts through them, sending shards of glass out with killer speed. We lost two Stormdancers.”
The three glassblowers seemed to sink down into themselves. Their guilt and pain piercing them as lethally as the glass debris had penetrated the Stormdancers.
“What is different with these orbs?” Zitora asked.
“Nothing!” Roused from his misery, Nodin jumped to his feet. “We’ve been following Father’s methods exactly. Same recipe. Same temperature. Same equipment.”
“How do you make them?” she asked.
Nodin began a lecture on glassmaking. I stopped him after a few sentences.
“Better to show me exactly what your father did to make the orbs,” I said.
They led me outside and up the trail.
“We make all the orbs before the two stormy seasons,” Nodin explained.
Out in the sunlight, the tight curls of his short black hair shone. The three siblings all had the same color of hair. Indra had pulled her shoulder-length curls into a ponytail and Varun had twisted his longer hair into rows of braids tight against his head.
“We’ll have to relight the fire,” Varun said.
“You let it go out?” I asked in amazement. Getting the kiln heated to the proper temperature could take days.
“We finished the orbs for the cooling season storms,” Indra snapped. “We were in the process of shutting it down until next year.”
“Is there another kiln nearby?” I asked.
Varun barked out a short laugh. “No. Nothing is nearby. We bring all our supplies when we arrive for the storm season.”
“We’re wasting time.” Indra glanced out to sea. Her brothers copied her. They seemed to be scenting the wind, judging the air. “Not much time left before the big storms hit. Our expert wants to see how we make the orbs. Let’s get to work.”
The kiln was housed in a large cave tucked behind a shale wall, protected from the wind and high water. A chimney had been drilled through the ceiling to vent the heat and smoke.
The glassmakers moved as one, reminding me of my family. While the brothers shoveled white coal, Indra gathered driftwood from a stack. Wood was easier to light than coal, but once a hot fire burned, more coal would be added.
Indra’s little jab at me hurt, but I didn’t want to stand there and do nothing. “Can I help?” I asked her.
I translated her grunt for assent. I collected wood. When we had a pile, the brothers made a lattice of branches. Nodin pulled out flint. Interesting how none of the three could light the fire with magic. I couldn’t, either, but I had assumed a Stormdancer could. I glanced around. Kade wasn’t in sight.
Zitora, though, hovered nearby with Raiden. She halted Nodin’s efforts. With the smallest of frowns, she lit the branches. When she looked away, the fire died down to a respectable burn.
“Can you keep the fire hot?” I asked her.
“How long?”
“Long enough for the coals to ignite?”
She nodded and once again the flames intensified.
A purse of appreciation settled on Nodin’s lips. “One benefit to having a Master Magician around.”
“And she’s good in a fight, too.” I winked at her.
“Time to add the sand,” Indra said.
The sand, soda ash and lime had been premixed and loaded onto a wheeled cart which had been parked in the back of the cave. Indra held a large metal bowl and a trowel. She paused before filling it. “How much?” she asked.
“Enough for two orbs,” I said.
She scooped sand. I grabbed a fistful of the mixture and carried it into the sunlight. Once there, I let the grains fall through my fingers, inspecting them as they fell. Yellow and brown grains, large and coarse were mixed with small white grains. A number of red-tinted particles and a few black specks peppered the mix.
“Our family’s secret recipe,” Varun said as he joined me on the ledge.
I considered. “Forty percent local sand, forty percent from the Krystal Clan’s sand quarry, fifteen percent from the Bloodgood Clan’s red beach and five percent lava flakes.”
He opened his mouth in astonishment. Closed it. Then stuttered, “That’s … that’s … There’s no way … Who told you?” Suspicion tainted his voice.
“The mixture.” He didn’t brighten with understanding. I asked him, “What other glasswares do you manufacture?”
“None. Our sole job is to make the orbs and protect the recipe. Only my family and the lead Stormdancer know the percentages.” He clutched my arm. “You’re the first to figure it out. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry.” I gently pried his hands off. “I won’t. I know how important it is. Growing up in a glass factory, my family made many different types of glasswares from drinking glasses to fancy bowls and custom vases. My father has hundreds of sand recipes for various colored glass, as well as glass with assorted qualities and clarities. Father delights in bringing home a new mix and making us guess the composition.” I smiled at the memory. Most fathers brought presents home for their children. Mine brought sand. My smile grew wider as I realized how excited my sisters and I had been when Father’s wagon was spotted in town, returning with a new batch of sand.
I brushed the sand from my fingers.
Varun gazed at me with frank curiosity. But before he could voice his question, Nodin joined us. “The coals are heating. We should have melt by dawn.”
Zitora’s magic had accelerated the process by a full day.
“Until then, let me show you the orbs we’ve made,” Nodin said.
I followed him along the cliff trail to a small cave high above the beach. We crouched down to step inside.
“Another protected cave. The wind doesn’t blow in here and the water never reaches this high.”
I peered over the edge. “How high does the water get?”
Nodin grinned. “Depends on the storm. The stronger the wind, the higher the water.”
He shuffled to the back of the cave and returned with a glass orb. He handed it to me. The sphere weighed as much as a healthy newborn baby. The orb had a small lip and opening, making the sphere resemble a fat coin purse.
“When the rubber stopper is inserted, it seals the energy inside,” Nodin explained.
“How do you release the energy without hurting anybody?”
He picked up a stopper. “There is a hole that goes about halfway through. See?” He poked a finger up to his knuckle in the one end. “A glass tube is inserted in this end and, when in place, a small hole is made that goes all the way through the rubber. The energy flows through the tube and into the machinery.”
I brought the orb closer to the sunlight and stroked the glass with my fingers. Smooth and translucent, the orb had a purple iridescent film on the outside as if it had been dipped in soap. As wide as the length of my forearm, it had no seams; the glass was blown into this shape. No bubbles or other flaws marked its surface.
It sat inert in my hands. No glow. No singing. No magic.
“Why glass?” I asked Nodin. “Why not metal or silver to contain the storm’s energy?”
“Only glass will work. I don’t know why.” Sadness blanketed his face. “Now even the glass won’t work.”
“Do