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

black hair had sprung from his single braid. I stayed out of reach even though I knew he couldn’t move. The drug only allowed a person to breathe, swallow and hear.

      Clean shaven. No wrinkles lined his ginger-colored skin. I guessed he was in his early twenties. My attention kept returning to his diamond-shaped eyes fringed with thick lashes. I forced myself to search for distinctive features. He had a strong nose and an inch-long scar on his throat below his left ear.

      When I returned to Zitora and the horses, my back stung as if Blue Eyes had the power to burn a hole right through my cloak and skin.

      “Should we wait for the guards?” I asked Zitora when she mounted Sudi.

      “No time. Don’t worry, they’re not going anywhere.”

      “What about predators?” A strange prickle crawled along my spine. It felt as if Blue Eyes’ gaze had transformed into a spider clinging to the skin on my back, and that no matter how far I traveled, I wouldn’t be able to lose the spider.

      “If I loop a protective net around them, will you feel better?”

      “Yes.”

      She guided her horse closer to the prone forms. Her brow creased and I guessed she pulled a thread of magic from the power source blanketing the world. Only magicians could tap into this power. When I worked with molten glass, I could draw magic from the source, but couldn’t replicate the action without being in “glass mode.”

      I ignored the spike of envy. Zitora looped a protective strand around the paralyzed people and then connected it back to the power source so it remained in place. Or, at least, that was what she told me she had done. My awareness of magic was only through the glass. I couldn’t see or touch or smell it.

      The protection would guide an animal past the site without incident, but a human would break the net.

      “What happens if one of the Stormdance Clan members stumbles on them? Or worse, if one of their colleagues is waiting for us to leave to help them?” I asked.

      “No one lives on The Flats. And I can’t sense anyone nearby. What is really worrying you?”

      I couldn’t pinpoint the reason for my unease.

      “Perhaps you’re still upset over the attack.”

      “Perhaps.”

      But as we rode away, the spider of doubt burrowed deep under my skin. If I chased my thoughts to the depths of my memories, I might match the anxious feeling to the incident over four years ago when I helped Yelena capture those malevolent souls. Match it to the fact that I heard their voices calling to me in my dreams from time to time.

      Which is why I wouldn’t contemplate those feelings—pure imagination on my part. I hoped.

      4

      I DISMISSED THE whole crazy notion of hearing the voices of the dead and concentrated on keeping up with Zitora. Galloping over the hard shale ground increased the jolting through my body. I clung to Quartz’s mane to keep from bouncing off her saddle.

      By the time we reached the coast the next morning, I couldn’t get off Quartz fast enough. We stopped where The Flats transformed into The Cliffs—a sheer drop-off to the sand below. The sea sparkled as if a million diamonds floated on the surface. It spread before me in all its glorious blue-green waters. White foam capped the waves and fingers of rocks pointed to the horizon. The moist breeze fanned me, smelling of salt.

      Creeping to the edge, I glanced down and sank to my knees. I had never been this high before. Five times the height of the Master Magician’s tower; I guessed the distance spanned a hundred and fifty feet.

      Zitora joined me.

      “Where are the Stormdancers?” I asked. No life stirred on The Flats and only seabirds circled below. “I don’t see any signs of them.”

      “Farther south. This is the only smooth part of The Cliffs.” She pointed to the left. “And it’s where the trail starts.”

      A narrow ledge of shale jutted from the edge of The Cliffs. A pregnant mare wouldn’t fit on it. I eyed Quartz’s middle. My leg would probably dangle over nothing.

      “You’re not afraid of heights are you?” Zitora asked.

      “I guess I’m about to find out.”

      “We’ll walk the horses down.”

      “Good idea.”

      “Just follow me and keep your eyes on Sudi.” Zitora squeezed my shoulder.

      During the first hour of our descent, I wasn’t sure if I led Quartz down or if she guided me. My legs tended to freeze in place whenever I contemplated the thin ribbon of ground under my feet, and my breath came in short huffs whenever I caught sight of the rocks gleaming below.

      The pungent scent of salt and fish dominated my senses. And the constant shushing of the waves filled my ears. Eventually, the soothing rise and fall of the water calmed my breathing, but the occasional harsh cry of a seagull would jolt a gasp from me.

      Once we descended into the twisting network of the wind-sculpted cliffs, my fears disappeared. The Stormdance Clan had carved the trail through ripples of shale. Stunning wings of rock reached out to the sea and between these wings were caves and grooves.

      Lower down on the cliff, the water added its own artistic touch, carving deep caverns and wearing away enough rock to leave bridges and chimneys behind.

      According to Zitora, the Stormdancers lived in the caves closer to the sand. The higher ones were all empty. The lower ones had wood and cloth screens pulled across the entrances. Probably for privacy. When we finally arrived at the base of The Cliffs, the sun shone directly overhead—midafternoon. In a large cavern, we found a small group sitting around a fire.

      Before going inside, I glanced up. This time, the sheer beauty and height of The Cliffs pressed down on me.

      “Opal, give Quartz’s reins to Tal, he’ll take care of her,” Zitora said.

      A young man with skin the color of coal dust flashed me a shy smile. Tal led both horses along the sand.

      “Where are they going?” I asked.

      Another man had joined us. Around forty years old, he appeared to be about twenty years older than Tal. “We have temporary stables set up past the outcropping.” He pointed. The sun had tanned his skin to a warm brown and his short black hair was peppered with flecks of gold. “If a storm comes, we can move them into the higher caves for protection.” He smiled, showing the reason for the wrinkles.

      “I should go help unsaddle—”

      “Don’t worry. Tal will take care of them. We don’t get many horses here, but Tal knows what to do. Come inside, we have much to discuss.”

      I followed Zitora and the man. With Tal gone, only four others waited by the fire. The man introduced us to them. Nodin and Varun were brothers and, along with their sister, Indra, the three of them made the special glass orbs. The fourth, Kade, was a Stormdancer.

      By their solemn and dire expressions, they didn’t appear happy to see us. The man—Raiden—was the camp manager.

      “I sent the others back to the village,” Raiden said. “No sense having everyone here if we can’t dance. I hope you can help us out, Opal.”

      “I don’t see how,” Kade said. He threw a stick into the fire and stood. “She’s younger than Tal.” He stalked out.

      The silence thickened until Raiden sighed. “Bad times, but we’ve been through worse. I sent for an expert and here you are. I trust the Council and Master Cowan.” His round face and kind brown eyes radiated hope.

      I knew I was supposed to respond with a comment about being the right person for the job, but I tended to agree with Kade. At least Raiden used Zitora’s title.

      “Tell