don’t want to hear it. Opal, stir the fire to life and heat up the teakettle.
Jaymes, take Master Cowan’s bag and saddle the horses.”
I laughed at Zitora’s chagrin as we hurried to complete our assigned tasks. “You might as well sit down and enjoy the attention,” I told her. “Next time you visit, you’ll be considered a member of the family and she’ll order you around, too.”
A slight wistful tone crept into the Master Magician’s voice. “I would like that very much.”
With stomachs full of Mother’s special sweet cakes, Zitora and I said our goodbyes to my family, and headed into the heart of Booruby. It was about an hour past dawn. The streets hummed with early-morning activity. Citizens bustled along the sidewalks as wagons rumbled over the cobblestones, making deliveries.
“Wicent’s factory is down Morgan Street.” I pointed to the curl of gray smoke hanging above a stone building. “Where do you want to meet?” Wicent was the other glassmaker who knew about Brittle Talc.
“The main road near the west side of Booruby. Stay in populated areas, Opal. We still don’t know where Blue Eyes is or why he wants you.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Zitora nodded and urged Sudi down Morgan Street. I stayed on the main road for a few blocks before turning left onto Glass Alley, so named for the numerous glass factories located here. I found Cesca’s factory. The largest on the block, her building housed ten kilns. A store to sell her wares occupied the front section of the factory.
I tied Quartz to a hitching post and entered the crowded store. All the sales staff were busy, so I examined the goods. Plates and bowls with swirls of colored and clear glass lined the shelves along with matching wine goblets. Water pitchers and vases all had the same delicate twist of color. A few pieces showed the artistry of another hand, with thicker handles on the pitchers and heavy drops of color in the bowls.
In the corner, a few of Ulrick’s pieces rested on a shelf. Covered with dust, the decanter and matching goblets were bumpy with bubbles. The glass resembled frozen sea foam. I stroked the decanter. Pulses of energy darted through my hand, numbing my fingers.
“Can I help you?” a woman’s voice asked.
I removed my hand and looked up. A saleswoman waited with a polite smile and bored eyes.
“I need to speak with Cesca. It’s important.”
“I’m sure you think it’s important.” The woman eyed my travel clothes and sighed. “She’s busy working.” She put her hand on my elbow and guided me toward the door. “Send her a message, perhaps she’ll agree to meet.”
Before I knew it, I stood outside on the sidewalk. Quartz snorted in what sounded like amusement. I shot my horse a sour look. Peering through the window of the shop, I flinched. The rude saleswoman laughed with a customer. She pointed and everyone in the store turned to look at me. I moved from their sight. Not wanting to make a scene, I circled the building, searching for another entrance.
The storage sheds were located behind the factory. Workers pushing wheelbarrows moved between the shed and main building. I followed a man with a load of soda ash into the heat and roar of the factory. A sense of urgent production radiated from the workers. Serious expressions and quick motions kept them absorbed in their tasks. I spotted a few women bent over their work, but none resembled Cesca.
A hand touched my arm and I spun to deflect it, thinking about the rude saleswoman. A man stepped back with his hands out. I stopped and stared. The green in his eyes was so vivid it reminded me of lush grass lit by morning sunlight. Long black eyelashes outlined his eyes and matched his short dark hair. Even the smudges of dirt on his chiseled chin enhanced his features.
“… doing here?” He shouted over the din.
“I’m looking for Cesca. Do you know where she is?”
He peered at me with distrust. I hadn’t realized Cesca was so famous.
“Why do you want to see her?”
“Tell her Jaymes’s daughter, Opal, wishes to see her about an important matter.”
“Mara’s younger sister?” Interest flared in his gorgeous eyes.
Every man in Booruby knew and worshipped my sister. He looked close to her age of twenty-two, which probably meant they went to school together. I suppressed my annoyance. “Yes. And the matter is rather urgent.”
“Follow me.” He led me from the factory and into the cooler air. The man cut down an alley.
I hesitated on entering the quiet narrow street, remembering Zitora’s orders to be careful. But I decided the need to talk to Cesca was more important.
He stopped midway and knocked on a door, ushering me into a large storeroom filled with glasswares, crates and packing material. In the far corner an elderly woman sat behind an immense desk. Her thin skin clung to her face, revealing the contours of her skull beneath.
“This had better be imperative, Ulrick, or I won’t let you near my kilns for a season.” Her voice barked surprisingly strong.
I glanced at Ulrick with interest. He was the popping glassmaker. Unaware of my appraisal, Ulrick introduced me to his mother and retreated to the other side of the room to allow us more privacy. I explained to her about the Stormdancers orbs and the Brittle Talc.
“Nasty,” she said. “That horrid stuff almost ruined me. How can I help?”
I paused. Knowing I needed to choose my words with care, I gathered my thoughts. “Does anyone else know about the properties of Brittle Talc?”
“Yes. My children all know. We still check every shipment of lime for the contaminant.”
“And you have …?”
“Five children, three boys and two girls. Two daughters-in-law, one son-in-law and six grandchildren.” She beamed with pride. “They all work here, except the grandchildren and my daughter Gressa—she’s in the Moon Clan’s lands. All have been trained to work with glass. They make wonderful pieces. Well … most do.” Cesca glanced at Ulrick.
He sorted goblets, rolled them in cotton sheets and placed them into a wooden crate. His movements precise and efficient; the strong muscles in his arms and body apparent to me even though he wore plain gray overalls.
Cesca’s family created eight more suspects. I wouldn’t have time to talk to them all. “Has anyone asked you about Brittle Talc?”
“Besides my family?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“But someone within your family was interested?”
The woman shot me a scathing look. “I hope you’re not implying one of my family members could be responsible for those brittle orbs.”
I rushed to assure her. “Of course not. But they may have talked to a friend or colleague. We’re just trying to find out who knows about the substance.”
“Ulrick had asked for more information about it. He wanted to use it. The boy likes to craft flawed pieces,” she said with a disdainful tone in her voice. “I told him if he ever brought Brittle Talc anywhere near Booruby, I would report him to the authorities. That is a criminal offence around here.” She pounded on her desk with a bony fist. “He never mentioned it again. Smart move.” Her pointed stare implied I should do the same.
Time to retreat. “Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else about this matter, could you please tell my father?”
She agreed, but, by her dismissive wave, I knew she wouldn’t pursue the subject. As I threaded through the crates, I spotted another one of Ulrick’s vases lying on the floor. I picked it up. The blue glass contained bubbles that had been stretched into long thin tubes. Marvelous. Tiny tremors