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  Storm Glass

  ( Glass - 1 )

  Maria V Snyder

  Untrained. Untested. Unleashed. With her unique magical abilities, Opal has always felt unsure of her place at Sitia's magic academy. But when the Stormdancer clan needs help, Opal's knowledge makes her the perfect choice — until the mission goes awry. Pulling her powers in unfamiliar directions, Opal finds herself tapping into a new kind of magic as stunningly potent as it is frightening. Now Opal must deal with plotters out to destroy the Stormdancer clan, as well as a traitor in their midst. With danger and deception rising around her, will Opal's untested abilities destroy her — or save them all?

  Storm Glass

  (The first book in the Opal Cowan series)

  A novel by Maria V Snyder

  To my sister, Karen Phillips, for all the advice, support

  and good times (BFF). This book has a definite sister vibe!

  Author Note: Mixed Up Weather by Maria V. Snyder

  I’ve been receiving a bunch of questions from my readers about why I chose Opal to be my next protagonist, how did I think of the idea for her glass magic, and what’s up with the weather stuff? I hope everyone is comfortable—this is going to take a while. I can wait while you get something hot/cold to drink ;)

  For the first part of that question, I must admit it was my editor's idea. After Fire Study, I wanted to write a different book—one not in the Study world (I had been writing about Yelena for eleven years—I like her, but come on—enough already). My editor really wanted another Study book to keep up the momentum. She mentioned Opal as a potential character.

  I liked Opal and she surprised me by how valuable she became in Fire Study, but I couldn't think of a story idea with her. I was explaining this to my editor in Austin, Texas, during a World Fantasy Convention, and was literally in mid-sentence (she claims I was in mid-whine—but don’t believe her) when the idea for Storm Glass popped into my mind. At first we were going to title the book Glass Study or Crystal Study, but I wanted a new title since I had a new main protagonist.

  Most of my readers know I don't plan my stories in advance. I do have a general idea for a book and will write a synopsis for my editor to approve—but the finished book usually doesn't match the synopsis at all (at least, not yet). Writing is a discovery process for me and it’s what I love the most about it.

  The second part of the question is why glass? In Magic Study I had a kidnapped victim named Tula who was in a coma. Yelena needed a family member to help her revive Tula so I needed to invent a family for her. I created parents, an older sister, a younger sister and a younger brother (gotta have options). Then the question arose—why would Tula be all alone at night?—with two sisters, she didn’t sleep alone. The answer was the family owned a glass factory and had to keep the kilns hot all night—so a member would baby-sit the kilns, shoveling coal when needed. Usually two together, but Opal wasn’t feeling good and Tula sent her to bed. (Note: Opal’s original name was Gale—but my editor suggested I change her name because it was too close to Goel—a major character in Magic Study—I got Opal’s name from the Pickles comic strip).

  So Tula’s family was created to back up her reason for being alone. I thought I was done with them. Oh no, they appeared in Fire Study. Completely unplanned—Yelena, Moon Man and Leif were in Booruby and I remembered Tula’s family also lived there and I thought it would be interesting to get them together. First for Yelena to get caught up on the political gossip about this Daviian Clan, but then Opal’s talent revealed itself to Yelena and to me

  But why glass? I remember a trip to a glass factory when I was very young. I don’t remember the details, like where or when, but I remember the glass mouse I wanted to buy. It had a long thin tail that swirled up, and my mother said I would break it. I promised not to, and I kept my promise until I moved out of my parent’s house when I was 22 (a box fell off my father’s truck during the move and the tail broke then). I think that trip planted an idea in my mind so when I was writing Fire Study and needed to help Yelena out of a nasty jam, the glass-making interest bubbled to the surface of my mind.

  Memories of a glass mouse unfortunately don’t help with writing scenes located in a glass factory. As I write, I'll come to a place where I need more information. I'll put a note in brackets to do research in my manuscript and keep on writing. I do prefer hands-on as it's the best way to learn and helps so much in translating that experience for my readers. (No, I didn’t do hands-on for learning how to pick locks…honest.…the police cleared me of all charges!).

  For the glass-blowing scenes, I took a class at the Goggle Works in Reading, PA. A little far away, but closer than Philadelphia or Pittsburgh (the only other places in PA that taught glass). And I learned glass is an amazing medium. The best aspect of learning was the limitless possibilities - molten glass can be shaped into anything. Also being able to re-use glass over and over appeals to my save-the-environment lifestyle. I have since taken more glass classes and have learned to fuse glass, to make stained glass, and to make glass beads (technically they are beads—even if they aren’t round per say).

  By now you’re thinking—this is interesting, but what’s with the weather? So far you haven’t mentioned it at all. Well here it is…In Fire Study, Yelena and Leif are traveling north along the border of the Stormdance Clan and Leif gives Yelena a little history lesson about the Stormdancers—they dance during storms to harvest the storm’s energy into glass orbs. They use these energy-filled orbs to fuel their factories. Pretty neat, but where did that idea come from??

  First, I included that information to give the readers a little taste of Sitia. It’s called world-building in the writing biz. Details like this make the fictional world more real (at least that’s what writers are trying to do—success is sometimes debatable). I never expected this detail to be a major part of a novel.

  Second, I must admit to being a.…looks over shoulder..…weather geek. I’ve been fascinated by the weather ever since I got over my fear of thunderstorms last week. Just kidding—I think I was 11 or 12 when I recovered (my father and I got caught in a thunderstorm while on a walk—nothing like facing your fears and having it pour down your back, soak your shirt and puddle in your shoes). I was so fascinated; I went to Penn State and earned a BS in Meteorology. So I am an educated weather geek. (At Penn State, we called ourselves weather weenies—but I don’t think that’s PC anymore )

  Unfortunately, forecasting the weather was not only boring (I want to chase tornados), I was bad at it—really bad. In order to chase tornados, you need to know where they’ll form and when, which brings us back to the whole forecasting snafu. But being concerned about the environment, I found a job in the environmental field doing air quality work and did use my degree for ten years (take that Mom!).

  I’m still fascinated with storms and will watch thunderstorms advance over the fields behind our house. We live on a slight ridge, which I named Storm Watcher’s Ridge (aren’t you amazed by my creative talents?). When we bought our yellow Labrador Retriever puppy named Hazelnut and registered her with the AKC (American Kennel Club), I wrote Storm Watcher’s Ridge Kennel’s Hazelnut as her official AKC name. Snotty eh? We call her Hazel for short.

  So weather degree plus glass equals Storm Glass. Simple right? (No don’t ask me why it took me sixteen paragraphs and 1,265 (so far) words to tell you—just nod politely, sip your drink and chalk it all up to crazy writers).

  PS: I also love dogs—so I wrote a story for middle-grade readers (8-12 yrs old). Here’s a short summation: weather degree plus search and rescue dogs equals Storm Watcher. (No, it isn’t a book you can buy.…yet—I’m working on it).

  1

  THE HOT AIR pressed against my face as I entered the glass
factory. The heat and the smell of burning coal surrounded me in a comforting embrace. I paused to breathe in the thick air. The roar of the kilns sounded as sweet as my mother’s voice.

  “Opal!” Aydan yelled above the noise. “Are you going to stand there all day? We have work to do.” He gestured with a thin gnarled hand.

  I hurried to join him. Working in the heat had turned his gray hair into a frizzy mop. Dirt streaked his hands. He grimaced in pain when he sat at his workbench, rubbing his lower back with a fist.

  “You’ve been shoveling coal again,” I admonished. He tried to look innocent, but before he could lie, I asked, “What happened to your apprentice?”

  “Ran off once he figured out how hard it is to turn fire into ice.” Aydan grunted.

  “Well, I’m here now.”

  “You’re late.”

  “Sorry, I had a…test.” I sighed. Another frustrating, fruitless endeavor. Not only had I failed to light the fire, but I knocked over the candles, spilling hot wax all over my classmate Pazia’s clothes and burning her skin. Her expensive silk tunic was ruined. She sneered in disdain when I offered to replace her shirt. Nothing new. Pazia’s hostility spanned my entire four years at the Keep. Why would I expect my last year to be any different?

  After starting my fifth year of lessons at the Magician’s Keep, I had hoped to be able to do more with my magic. Pazia’s abilities had grown so much since we sat next to each other during our very first session that the Master Magicians considered allowing her to take the Master-level test.

  I’d learned about Sitia’s history, politics, how to fight and about the uses for magic, but my ability to tap into the power source remained elusive. Doubts flared and the nagging feeling of being limited to one magical skill churned in my chest. And it didn’t help my confidence when I overheard my fellow students calling me the One-Trick Wonder.

  “Jealousy,” Aydan had said when I told him about my nickname. “You saved Sitia.”

  I thought of the day—over four years ago—when I helped Liaison Yelena capture those evil souls. She had done all the work, I was merely a conduit. I tried to downplay my involvement, but Aydan remained stubborn.

  “You’re a hero and those children can’t stand it.”

  Remembering his words made me smile. Calling fifteen to twenty-year-olds children was typical for Aydan, a proud curmudgeon.

  He tapped my arm with a blowpipe. “Stop daydreaming and gather me a slug.”

  I grabbed the hollow rod and opened the oven. Intense light burst from the furnace as if a piece of the sun was trapped inside. I spun the end of the rod in the molten glass and twisted it up and out, removing a taffylike ball before my eyebrows and eyelashes could be singed off again.

  The cherry-red slug on the end of the iron pulsed as if alive. Aydan blew through the pipe then covered the hole. A small bubble appeared in the molten glass. Resting the pipe on the metal arms of his gaffer’s bench, Aydan rolled the pipe back and forth, shaping the glass.

  I helped him as he created an intricate vase with a twist at the bottom so the piece actually rested on its side yet could still hold water. In his hands, turning glass into art appeared to be an easy task. I loved the unique properties of molten glass which could be molded into such wonderful objects. We worked for hours, but the time flew.

  When he finished his artwork, Aydan stood on creaky legs and said the words that were the reason I came to help him after my Keep classes. “Your turn.”

  He exchanged places with me and grabbed a hollow pipe. While he gathered a slug, I made sure all the metal tools lying on the bench were in their proper places. All I needed was my annoying younger brother telling me to hurry, and my patient older sister helping me to complete the feeling of being in my family’s glass factory.

  Sitting at the bench was home—familiar and comfortable. Here and here alone, I was in control. The possibilities endless and no one could tell me otherwise.

  All thoughts fled when Aydan placed the pipe in front of me. Glass cooled quickly and I had no time to dwell on anything but shaping the molten ball. Using metal tweezers, I pulled and plucked. When the slug transformed into a recognizable image, I blew through the end of the pipe. The piece’s core glowed as if lit by an inner fire.

  My one magical trick—the ability to insert a thread of magic inside the glass statue. Only magicians could see the captured light.

  Aydan whistled in appreciation of the finished piece. Technically his ability to light fires with magic made him a magician, but since he didn’t possess any other talent he hadn’t been invited to study at the Keep. I shouldn’t have been invited, either. I could make my special glass animals at my home in Booruby.

  “Damn, girl.” Aydan slapped me on the back. “That’s a dead-on copy of Master Jewelrose’s red-tailed hawk! Did you make that for her?”

  “Yes. She needed another piece.” I never knew what I would create when I sat down at the gaffer’s bench, but my time spent helping Master Jewelrose care for her hawk must have influenced me. The core glowed bright red and called to me with a song of longing. Each of my creations had a distinctive voice that sounded inside me. No one else could hear its call.

  “See? That’s another talent you have.” He bustled about and placed the hawk into the annealing oven so it could cool slowly. “Magicians can now communicate over vast distances with these animals of yours.”

  “Only those who have the power of mental communication.” Another skill I lacked, mind reading. For those who possessed the ability, they only needed to hold one of my animals and they could “talk” to each other through the magic trapped inside. I’d admit to feeling a measure of pride over their usefulness, but I would never brag about it. Not like Pazia, who flaunted everything she did.

  “Pah! It’s still one of the most important discoveries of recent years. Stop being so modest. Here—” he handed me a shovel “—put more coal in the kiln, I don’t want the temperature to drop overnight.”

  End of pep talk. I scooped up the special white coal and added it to the fire under the kiln. Since Aydan sold his glass pieces as art, he only needed one—a small shop compared to my family’s eight kilns.

  When I finished, my garments clung to my sweaty skin and strands of my brown hair stuck to my face. Coal dust scratched my throat.

  “Can you help me mix?” Aydan asked before I could leave.

  “Only if you promise to hire a new apprentice tomorrow.”

  He grumbled and grouched, but agreed. We mixed sands from different parts of Sitia. A secret recipe developed generations ago. It would be combined with soda ash and lime before it could be melted into glass.

  As I tried to trick Aydan into telling me where the pink-colored sand came from, a messenger from the Keep arrived. A first-year student, he wrinkled his nose at the heat.

  “Opal Cowan?” he asked.

  I nodded and he huffed. “Finally! I’ve been searching the Citadel for you. You’re wanted back at the Keep.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who wants me?”

  He glowed with glee as if he were my younger brother delivering news of my impending punishment from our parents.

  “The Master Magicians.”

  I had to be in big trouble. No other reason for the Masters to send for me. As I rushed after the messenger—an ambitious fellow to be running errands for the Masters in his first year, and who’d already decided I wasn’t worth talking to—I thought of the mishap this morning with Pazia. She had wanted to get me expelled from my first day. Perhaps she finally succeeded.

  We hurried through the Citadel’s streets. Even after four years, the city’s construction still amazed me. All the buildings had been built with white marble slabs streaked with green veins. If I was alone, I would have trailed my hands over the walls as I walked, daydreaming of creating a city made of glass.

  Instead, I ran past the buildings as the brilliant color dulled with the darkening sky. The Keep’s
guards waved us through—another bad sign. We vaulted up the stairs two at a time to reach the administration building. Nestled in the northeast corner of the Citadel, the Keep’s campus with its four imposing towers marked the boundaries. Inside, the buildings had been constructed from a variety of colored marble and hardwoods.

  The administration’s peach-and-yellow blocks used to soothe me, but not today. The messenger abandoned me at the entrance to the Masters’ meeting room. Hot from my sprint, I wanted to remove my cloak, but it hid my sweat-stained shirt and work pants. I rubbed my face, trying to get the dirt off and pulled my long hair into a neat bun.

  Before I knocked, another possible reason for my summons dawned. I had lingered too long at the glass factory and missed my evening riding lesson. In the last year of instruction at the Keep, the apprentice class learned about horse care and riding to prepare us for when we graduated to magician status. As magicians we would be required to travel around the lands of the eleven clans of Sitia to render aid where needed.

  Perhaps the Stable Master had reported my absence to the Masters. The image of facing the three magicians and the Stable Master together caused a chill to shake my bones. I turned away from the door, seeking escape. It opened.

  “Do not hover about, child. You’re not in trouble,” First Magician Bain Bloodgood said. He gestured for me to follow him into the room.

  With curly gray hair sticking out at odd intervals and a long blue robe, the old man’s appearance didn’t match his status as the most powerful magician in Sitia. In fact, Third Magician Irys Jewelrose’s stern demeanor hinted at more power than Master Bloodgood’s wrinkled face. And if someone passed Second Magician Zitora Cowan in the street, that person would not even think the young woman possessed enough talent to endure the Master-level test.