Мария Снайдер - Fire Study - Study 03
“Look at how they glow!” he said. “Which one would you pick? The snake?”
“No. I’ve had my fill of snakes. I like the horse, but the eyes are the wrong color. They should be blue.”
Leif laughed. “You’re biased. I’d buy the tree leopard. The detail is amazing. I wonder how the artist is able to get the leopard’s green and yellow pattern just right.”
“The pattern is inside.” Opal exited the store. “There’s a thin layer of clear glass on the outside.”
“Did Tula make these?” I asked.
Sadness welled in her eyes. She blinked back tears. “No. Tula’s are too precious to sell.”
“Opal, I’m—”
“Don’t say it,” she said. “Starting anew, remember?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s go.” Opal led the way.
I worried the girl’s parents wouldn’t be so forgiving, but they greeted us warmly. Their house and glass factory had been built on the edge of the city, surrounded on three sides by the Avibian Plains. The location explained why Ferde had chosen Tula. Keeping the kilns hot, Tula had been in the factory all night alone where no one could witness her abduction.
Opal guided us on a tour of her family’s business and we met her remaining sister, Mara, and her younger brother, Ahir. The promised meal consisted of beef stew served in a bowl made of bread.
“Less to wash,” Opal’s mother, Vyncenza, said with a grin.
Leif sat next to Mara and flirted with her. He even joined her in the kitchen to help clean up. I couldn’t blame him, the beautiful loose curls of her golden-brown hair hung past her shoulders. Kindness radiated from big tawny eyes, and she listened to Leif’s tales with rapt attention.
While the others cleared the table, Opal’s father, Jaymes, regaled me with stories about his business and his family.
“…she wasn’t paying attention and set fire to her mother’s apron! It was another four seasons before we would let Tula handle a punty iron again.” He laughed and launched into another one.
When he had run out of anecdotes, I asked him about news from Booruby.
“The Cowan elders are always arguing about how many trees to cut down, and now they want to start taxing the sand I import for my glassware.” He tsked over the prospect. “Rumors about the other clans have always been good fodder for the gossips. This year’s is about those Daviians. Everyone’s worried about them, but the magicians have Tula’s killer in jail and I’m sure the Sandseeds will take care of the rest. They always do.”
I agreed, but my mind snagged on the fact that he still believed that Ferde was locked away. Not good. Why hadn’t the Council informed the populace? Probably to avoid frightening them. Ferde was still weak, and they had hoped to recapture him by now. Should I tell Jaymes? He had two other daughters. The people should also be told about the Vermin’s Kirakawa ritual. They could help find the Vermin and keep their families protected. But would they panic and hinder our efforts instead?
It was a difficult choice to make on my own and the benefits of having a Council to vote on important issues became clearer to me. No one member could be held responsible for a bad judgment.
Delaying a decision, I asked him if his children still worked alone at night.
“No. No. I work the entire night shift. We’ve learned our lesson and won’t be caught unaware again.”
“Good. Keep vigilant. The Cowan Clan leaders are right to be worried about the Daviians.”
Opal returned, giggling. Water splotched her long skirt and she tucked a few stray strands of damp hair back under her kerchief.
“Water fight,” she said. And before her father could scold, she added, “Mama started it!”
He sighed but didn’t appear to be too upset. Opal grabbed my hand, wanting to give me a tour of the house. The room she shared with her sister resided on the second floor of the stone house. The air smelled of honeysuckles. Hanging over the one empty bed was Tula’s grief flag. The white silk banner had been part of her funeral ceremony. The Sitians believed that once raised, the flag released Tula’s soul into the sky. Having freed Tula’s soul from Ferde, I knew the Sitian custom just helped comfort the families.
“Why is the flag hung over her bed?” I asked.
“It’s to keep her spirit from returning to earth,” Opal answered. “All the things that she might want to come back for are under the flag. She can’t see them there.”
I looked under the banner and spotted a small shelf filled with glass animals. The figurines were lifelike and well-made but had not captured the inner fire like the ones I had seen earlier.
“Tula gifted a couple statues and sold many others, but those she kept for herself. I tried to copy her, but mine come out differently. I have only sold a few.” She shrugged.
“You made the ones in the store window. Didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Again she made a dismissive shrug. “The store owner is a kind woman. She knew I was coming today and put them in the window. My animals are dull in comparison to Tula’s.”
“Opal, they’re stunning. How did you get them to glow?”
She pressed her hands over her heart as if she couldn’t believe what she heard. “You see the light?”
“Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”
“No!” she cried. “Only I see it—and now you!” She twirled with delight.
“And Leif. He saw it also.”
“Really? How odd. No one else in my family or my friends can see the inner light. They all think I’m daft, but they humor me anyway.”
“How do you make them?”
She explained the process of glassblowing to me. More detail than I needed, but I understood the basics.
“Usually you shape animals from solid glass, but, when I try it, the animals resemble blobs. To make a tumbler or vase, you have to blow an air bubble into the glass. I can’t do that either. I turn purple trying to get a starter bubble but have never accomplished it. However once I fail to make the bubble, I shape the piece so I don’t waste the glass. That’s when I get results. Not only does my animal look real, but a spark remains inside even when the piece has cooled.”
I thought for a moment. “But eventually the middle would cool. What keeps it glowing?”
She threw her arms out in a frustrated gesture. “I don’t know. I put my heart into these.”
The answer popped into my mind. “Magic.”
“No. Master Jewelrose has tested me. I didn’t have enough power to stay at the Keep.”
I smiled. “She should test you again.” Dax’s taunt about weird powers replayed in my mind. If Opal had been born a Zaltana, the test would have been different. “You have enough power to capture fire inside your statues.”
“Why can’t anyone else see it?”
“Perhaps a person has to have some magical ability to see the fire,” I theorized. “If that’s the case, you need to sell these at the Citadel’s market where there are many magicians.”
She pursed her lips in thought. “I obviously don’t meet a lot of magicians. Can you take one of my statues along and test your theory?”
“On one condition.”
“Anything!”
“That you let me pay for it so I can keep it.”
“You don’t have—”
I put my hand up, stopping her. “You said anything.”
She laughed. “Okay, but I’ll charge you the wholesale price. I know just the piece to give you, too. It’s in the factory.”
Opal dashed down the steps and flew out the door. The cold rush of night air reminded me that we needed to get back to the inn. I thanked Opal’s parents for the meal. They told me Leif had gone with Mara to the factory.
I found Opal there. She handed me a package. Wrapped with layers of cloth to protect the glass, the fist-size parcel fit neatly in my hand.
“Open it later,” she said. “I had another one in mind for you, but this one…called. Crazy. I know.”
“I’ve heard stranger things. I’ll write you a letter when I get back to the Keep and let you know how the experiment went.” I gently placed Opal’s package in my backpack, slung the straps back over my shoulders then paid her for the statue. “Do you know where Leif is?” I asked.
She blushed. “I think he’s sweet on Mara. They’re in the back in the mixing room. She’s supposed to be measuring sand.”
I wove my way through the kilns, workbenches and barrels of supplies. The hot air baked into my skin. Light gray smoke rose from the burning coals and flowed through the chimneys to vent outside. Opal’s family used a special white coal mined from the Emerald Mountains to heat their kilns. Cleaner than the black variety, the white coals burned hot enough to reach the two thousand degrees needed to melt the sand ingredients.
In the back room, a table filled with mixing bowls lined the far wall. Leif and Mara leaned over a deep bowl, but they were looking at each other instead of the concoction. The cloth masks used to prevent them from breathing in the fine particles hung around their necks.
I paused before interrupting them. Mara’s hands were coated with sand, and granules peppered Leif’s hair. He looked younger and his face shone with delight. It was a side of Leif I hadn’t seen before, and I wondered if he had someone he cared about back at the Keep. I realized I knew nothing about certain parts of Leif’s life.
Taking a few steps backward, I moved from their sight. I called Leif’s name loud enough for them to hear me over the noise of the kilns. He now stood away from Mara when I came into view, the sand gone from his hair.
“It’s getting late. We need to get back.”
Leif nodded but didn’t move. I understood the hint and left.
Outside the factory, a strong breeze hustled the clouds overhead. Shafts of moonlight poured from the sky between the breaks. When Leif joined me, we headed back to the inn. He was quiet.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“No.”
After several steps, he asked, “Did you learn anything about the Vermin from Jaymes?”
“The city is worried about them, but there is no information on where they might be if they’re even here at all.” I told him about Opal’s glass animals, and he seemed intrigued by the magical element.
“Did you tell Mara about Ferde’s escape?” I asked.
“No. I just told her to be extremely careful.”
We walked for a while in silence. The air bit through my shirt and I wished I had my cloak. Booruby resided on the edge of the temperate zone with warm afternoons followed by cold nights.
“I like her,” Leif said, breaking the quiet. “I haven’t liked anyone before. Too busy and too worried about you to care for another. I couldn’t keep you safe. I didn’t lift a finger to help you. Finding you became more important than living my own life.”
“Leif, you were eight years old and would have been killed if you had tried to stop Mogkan from kidnapping me. You did the right thing.”
“Getting killed would have been easier. No guilt. No worries. No fear. Caring for someone is terrible and wonderful. I don’t know if I have the strength to do it for another. How do you deal with it?”
“I focus on the wonderful parts and suffer through the terrible parts, knowing it will end eventually.”
