“You can’t—” Zetta clamped her mouth shut when her brother slapped her arm.
I waited, but they remained silent. Good. “Now think. Wheeling a hundred pounds is doable on a flat surface, but what happens when you try to pull it up a slope?”
“It’s harder?” Ziven answered.
“Right. How did these wagons of supplies arrive?”
They both looked at the stable. Quartz’s and Moonlight’s heads poked out.
“They’re not our horses,” Ziven said. “Ours go home after we bring all the supplies in.”
“All you need to do is ask.”
“The owners?”
“The horses.” I found a harness hanging in an empty stall. “Quartz, will you help us?”
She nickered and I secured the leather straps and attached the cart. Within minutes, we arrived at the kiln’s cave. After we unloaded the sand mixture into the kiln’s cauldron, I suggested they blend another batch and store it up here. They had plenty of time as the melt wouldn’t be ready for another eight to twelve hours.
They agreed to my idea and I helped them prepare and deliver a second batch. Once we finished, I led Quartz back to the stables. I rubbed her down and fed her a few treats. My stomach rumbled. The sun hovered above the horizon, painting the sky with yellow, orange and red streaks.
I headed to the main cave. Kade wasn’t on the rocks. I found him talking with the other Stormdancers. They sat around the cook fire with Leif and Skippy. All held bowls of steaming white liquid. Even Leif.
“I thought you didn’t like seafood,” I said to him.
He slurped the juice straight from his bowl. “Fish. I said I didn’t like fish. This is soup.”
“There are clams in it,” Raiden said. He ladled a bowl for me.
“Clams aren’t fish.” Leif helped himself to another portion.
“I can cook fish so it tastes like steak,” Raiden said.
“Really?” An avid glow lit Leif’s eyes. He and Raiden launched into an intense discussion about cooking.
I found a seat next to Kade. He draped an arm around my shoulders but didn’t pause in his conversation. Prin looked at us in surprise. She continued to study us with a speculative frown. Wick leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed and an empty bowl in his lap. Tebbs perched on the edge of her seat, listening intently.
“…a few big storms are forming out at sea, but nothing will come close for a few days,” Kade said.
“Then why do we have to come here so early?” Tebbs asked. She had tried to catch Prin’s gaze, but gave up when Prin wouldn’t glance at her.
Tebbs’s rookie question confirmed my guess at her young age.
“There have been early season storms in the past, so it’s always prudent to be prepared and ready early,” Kade said. “Hopefully, the first storm will be mild and you can dance with Prin.” He smiled at Tebbs. She blushed and glanced down.
“Is this your first storm season?” I asked her.
“I was supposed to start my training last time, but with the orbs breaking and…” She played with the hem on her linen tunic. “Well. You know.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, my powers came in much later than most of the others. Mother said I purposely ignored them before.” At this point Tebbs realized she babbled. “Yes. This will be my first time.” She settled her expression, trying to appear mature.
“Do the Stormdancer powers begin at puberty, too?” Usually, magical ability flared to life at the same time as a child’s body matured to an adult. For most, the transition complicated an already difficult time period, and a person’s power could be overlooked at first. It was one of the reasons for Irys Jewelrose’s annual trip to find and assess potential magicians. The threat of a young magician becoming uncontrolled and flaming out was another reason for her trip. Flameout would damage the power source, creating trouble for all the magicians.
“Yes, but there are exceptions,” Kade answered. “Heli could make a dust devil when she was ten and Tebbs, here, didn’t realize it was her mood affecting the weather instead of the other way around until she was eighteen.”
I thought of Master Jewelrose’s annual task again and groaned. Everyone looked at me. “Why didn’t I think of it before? Kade, you can use one of my glass messengers to find new Stormdancers.”
“That’s a great idea!” He beamed.
I suppressed the impulse to kiss him. “I’ll make you a bunch when we’re done with the orbs.”
“You don’t need a special glass mixture?” he asked.
“Nope. Any glass will do.”
“You can’t do that,” Skippy said.
I noticed he had been listening ever since Kade mentioned the storms out at sea.
“Why not?” I asked.
“The Council has set up protocols for obtaining a messenger. He’ll have to put in a request to the local station, who will pass it on to Councilor Stormdance, who will present all requests to the messenger committee, who then decides who to approve,” Skippy explained as if I should already be aware of this chain of command.
And he was right. I should be informed about what the Council did with my messengers. No wonder Vasko Cloud Mist was so happy to have his own; by giving him three I had bypassed a season’s worth of paperwork. It explained why Pazia had asked me if it was allowed.
The other Stormdancers peered at us in confusion, except Wick, who snored. Kade enlightened them about my messengers.
“…if you see the glow inside, then you have magical power.”
“But aren’t they the things that let you communicate from far away?” Prin asked.
“Yes. They have many uses.” Unmistakable pride filled Kade’s voice.
Prin blinked at me. “You make them? You’re the glass magician?”
“Why are you so surprised?” Kade asked.
“I…it’s just that…I never made the connection before. She was here only a few days.” Prin sounded aggrieved. “No one told me.”
“Not too many people know,” I said. “It’s safer that way.”
Everyone remained quiet for a moment.
“In any case,” I said, “they are my creations and I can give them to whomever I want.”
“The messenger committee isn’t going to like that,” Skippy said.
“I don’t care.”
“You should. I can prevent you from making them.” Skippy straightened.
“It’s not part of your assignment.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s the right thing to do.”
“I don’t agree.”
“That doesn’t matter, either,” Skippy said.
“Yes, it does,” Kade said. “Opal’s opinion matters to me.”
“We’re away from the Keep, Stormdancer. I can erect a null shield at my discretion.”
“You’re outnumbered. There are five of us. Seven if you include Leif and Opal. And a null shield isn’t going to stop me from dumping you in the ocean.” Kade remained relaxed in his seat, but a dead-serious expression touched his face.
Skippy wisely kept quiet. Prin and Tebbs exchanged a look. Wick snorted and mumbled in his sleep.
The glassmakers arrived and hesitated by the cook fire as if scenting the tension in the air.
“How’s the melt?” I asked.
“Good, good,” Ziven said. He poured soup into two bowls, handing one to his sister. “We should be able to make orbs tomorrow morning.”
“Excellent,” Kade said.
The friction eased a bit. Conversation resumed. I wanted to ask Raiden about the glassmakers’ experience, but would wait until we could talk in private. A few of the Stormdancers had their own caves to sleep in; others collapsed on cots around the main cavern’s fire.
When I visited before, I slept with the others. I wondered if Kade’s cot was big enough for two. Despite being the leader of the Stormdancers, he had chosen a small cave with only enough room for a cot and a brazier. He claimed the room was a nice respite from the vastness of the sea.