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Zitora’s voice cut through the storm’s rage, calling me. I rushed to catch up to her as she led Sudi into a low cave. Although the horse ducked her head, it was a tight fit. The top of the opening scraped along Sudi’s back.

Once inside, the cavern’s ceiling rose to twelve feet. The area was roomy, with horse stalls near the back and torches blazing along the walls. Cots and chairs had been set up, Zitora helped start a fire, and Raiden filled a pot with water.

“You shouldn’t bring that in here,” Raiden said, pointing at the orb in my hands.

“It would take a lot more than dropping it on the ground to break,” I said.

“I know it takes a hard blow to shatter it, but I don’t want my people to start being careless with them. Every Stormdance Clan member knows to handle the orbs with the utmost care and I want to keep it that way. Would you want to risk losing a life?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “There is a reason for the fear.”

Chagrined, I said, “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Next time, you might want to think before you act.”

Chastised, I stared at the floor.

“There is a reason for everything, Opal. You might not be able to figure it out, and time might have made us all forget it, but the reason is there all the same.” Raiden hung his pot over the fire. “Who’s hungry for clam stew?”

Raiden gave everyone who said, “me” a bucket of clams to open. I carried the orb to a safe spot in the back, setting it down on a pile of blankets. My hands and arms were numb from holding it. I covered it with another blanket to muffle its song. Between the roar of the storm and the trill of the orb, I would soon have a headache.

I checked on Quartz before returning to the fire. She munched her hay, appearing to be unconcerned about the weather. I scratched behind her left ear and she groaned in contentment.

When I sat down, Raiden handed me a dull knife and a handful of clams. I wouldn’t be allowed to partake in the meal without helping. I fumbled for a while, trying to pry open a shell. It didn’t take me long to find a rhythm, discovering another use for my strong hands.

Tal arrived soaking wet and sullen. He popped open a few clams without looking or speaking to anyone. The rest just ignored him.

Conversation focused on the orbs. I had been reluctant to state my theories before seeing how the glass was made, but when I examined the new orb in the firelight I felt more confident.

“Something is wrong with the mix,” I said, holding up my hand to stop the protest perched on Indra’s lips. “The recipe is right, but the sand, soda ash or lime isn’t.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Nodin asked.

“You could have gotten a bad batch.”

“Not helping.” Nodin tossed a clam into the pot.

“There is something in the mix that is causing the glass to be less dense. It can’t absorb the energy from the storm.”

“Which ingredient is deficient?” Indra asked.

“I don’t know. I could take samples of each to my father. He would be able to find out.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Raiden asked. “The storms are only going to get worse.”

“Kade is dancing now. Why can’t you have all your Stormdancers bleeding off energy until we figure out what is wrong?”

Tal snorted with derision. “All he’s doing is taking a small stick out of a big fire.”

“It’s dangerous. No other Stormdancer would do it. There’s no reason for the risk.” Raiden nodded at me as if we shared a private joke.

“The almighty Kade likes to show off,” Tal grumbled. “Rub it in.”

“He has his own reasons.” Raiden stirred the stew.

After we had tossed the empty shells to the beach, Nodin asked about my magic. “Tell me again how it works.”

Zitora and I explained about the two uses of my pieces.

“I can use this new one when my unicorn is spent,” Zitora said.

“No.” The word sprang from my throat before logic could be applied. “I want to keep it to…to compare it to…my other works.” Weak explanation, I knew, but this orb hummed like Kade’s sphere and I was reluctant to give it away.

“How is this different?” Nodin asked.

“It has a different…call.”

“Call?” Nodin cocked an eyebrow, inviting enlightenment.

“Each of my glass pieces calls to me. I don’t hear it like sound. I feel it.” I tapped my chest. “Inside. Whenever one of my animals is close to me, I know which one it is and where it is even if I can’t see it.”

He whistled. “You could feel this before you fell into the water and hit your head on the rocks? Right?”

“Yes.”

“Because it makes more sense the other way.”

“Nodin,” Raiden warned. “That’s enough.”

We ate our stew in relative silence. The keening of the wind echoed in the cavern and errant gusts fanned the flames. Soon a fine sea mist coated everything in the cave.

I didn’t sleep well. My cot felt as if it bobbed on a wild sea and the wind infiltrated my dreams, moaning a name over and over in my mind. Laced with grief and loss, the wind’s cry filled my heart with sadness.

The storm passed by daybreak. Kade arrived. Exhaustion lined his face and his clothes dripped with seawater.

“Fall in?” Tal asked with barely concealed spite.

If Kade noticed, he didn’t show it. He nodded. “Lost my grip for a second and was blown into the water.”

Raiden shot Kade a horrified look.

“Luckily I managed to construct a bubble and climb back onto the rocks.” Kade squeezed the ends of his hair. Water rained to the floor.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Raiden said. “Your powers have grown since—”

“Don’t say it,” Kade snapped.

Raiden frowned. “The storm almost killed you. You shouldn’t dance anymore.”

The Stormdancer lingered near the cave’s entrance. He peered out to the sea. “You’re right.”

Raiden covered his surprise by turning away to concentrate on breakfast. I guessed Kade didn’t agree with Raiden very often. Kade walked to the back of the cave to retrieve his orb. When the sphere was uncovered, I flinched with the sudden intensity of its song.

Tal narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t tell me you hear it.”

When I didn’t reply, he flew into a rage. “You can’t possibly hear it. You’re younger than me. And you’re not even a member of our clan.” He brushed past me, knocking me down.

“Raiden,” Indra said.

“I know.” The older man sighed. He helped me to my feet. “Sorry about that. Tal’s getting worse. I’ll send him home.”

“Wait,” Varun said. “He’s having a hard time adjusting. Before Opal’s device gave him proof, he still hoped he might develop magical powers. It’ll take a while for him to accept it. I’ll talk to him.”

“Fine. But tell him one more outburst and I’m sending him home for good.”

Varun agreed and followed Tal.

Raiden served the rest of us bowls of warm oatmeal. The thick mush had a fishy taste.

He laughed at my expression. “All our meals have fish in it. Cuts down on the amount of supplies we need.”

“Speaking of supplies,” Indra said. “What do we do about the glass ingredients?”

“Can you get a new batch?” Zitora asked.

“No. We stockpile the ingredients inland near Thunder Valley and bring only enough for each season. If one of the compounds is tainted, then the whole stockpile will be suspect,” Indra explained.

“How about ordering in fresh supplies?”

The glassmaker shook her head. “We wouldn’t get them in time. The special components in our mixture come from far away.”

“We really need to know which one is causing the problem,” Nodin said.

“Are the different components in separate stockpiles?” I asked.

“Yes. They’re mixed right before we leave.” He paced around the campfire, pulling at his tight curls. They sprang back as soon as he released one.

“Opal, you wanted to take samples to your father. Is there anyone else who is closer?” Zitora asked. “How about the Citadel’s glassmaker?”