“Maybe, but don’t forget my screen.”
“As much as I enjoy basking in your love and affection, we need to pack,” Leif said.
“You go ahead. I’ll catch up once the orbs are finished.”
“Opal, you can’t ignore a direct order again. You’re gaining their trust. If you don’t return, you’ll lose it.”
“So what! Maybe I don’t want their trust. One of the Councilors is probably behind the assassination attempt.”
“Whoa. That’s a big leap without any evidence,” Leif said.
I shrugged. “The orbs are more important than the Council’s orders.”
“You’re using molds. Can you teach one of the Stormdancers?”
“No. Too many variables. Ziven and Zetta did their homework. Their skills with glass were rudimentary, but they had plenty of knowledge.”
“How about the other glassmakers who interviewed for the job?” Kade asked.
“You want me to go?”
“No, but I don’t want you to get into trouble with the Council, either.”
I couldn’t trust those glassmakers. There could be another assassin hiding among them or worse—they could be unskilled!
The solution popped into my head. Helen, the glassmaker in Thunder Valley. An accomplished craftswoman, she wouldn’t even need to use the molds.
“Would the Council be agreeable to a compromise?” I asked Leif.
“Does it involve zapping?”
“No.”
“That’s a good start.”
I calculated travel times. “Ask them if I could stay for five more days. That will give me enough time to train Helen to my satisfaction.”
“Helen? Who’s Helen?” Leif asked.
“A skilled glassmaker in Thunder Valley.”
Leif looked at Kade. “Are you okay with this?”
“If Opal says she’s qualified, that’s all I need.”
While I waited for Helen, I continued to make orbs. I also created a few of my glass messengers for Kade to use to test his clan members for potential magical abilities, and I designed one for Leif. The magic inside his sea horse had faded.
Three days into my five allowed by the Council, Helen arrived in the early morning with her mother. Helen’s joy at being selected radiated throughout the main cavern, sending a sizzle of energy to the sleepy Stormdancers. She introduced her mother, Chava, to everyone, except Kade and Leif. Kade had gone to his spot on the rocks to scent the wind, and Leif was at the stable.
“I needed an assistant for such important work,” Helen said. She had twisted her long brown hair into a bun, exposing an elegant neck. “And since the orb makers are always family members, I brought my mother.”
“Has she worked with glass before?” I asked.
“A little. But she isn’t good with taking orders.”
Chava pished her daughter. “You aren’t good with giving orders.” She appealed to me. “She tells me to hand her a pontil iron. There are four different sizes. How am I to know which one she wants!” The stocky woman threw up her arms in mock disgust. “But don’t you worry. This is the greatest thing to happen to our family ever, and we’re not about to ruin this opportunity. If she needs a pontil iron, I’ll bring all four over and let her pick.”
Smiles erupted on everyone’s faces, including Wick. This pair would be an excellent addition to the seaside community.
“Can we get started?” Helen asked me. “We’re nine days into the heating season. There’s no time to lose.”
I led them out to the beach as Kade returned from the rocks. I presented the mother-and-daughter team to him.
Helen’s ginger-colored eyes filled with awe. Her long, graceful fingers grasped his hand, and she shook it as if dazed.
“I’m glad you could come on such short notice,” Kade said.
“It’s an honor,” Chava said. “You won’t regret inviting us. My daughter will create the most beautiful orbs you’ve ever seen.”
“Mother,” Helen scolded. She kept Kade’s hand in hers. “She exaggerates. I’ll do my very best, of course. You’re the ones risking your life for all of Sitia. Thank you so much.”
She finally released him. I studied her oval face to determine her sincerity. Her acting skills could be well honed, or she might actually be genuine. I didn’t remember her being so striking at the market. Her large almond-shaped eyes and small nose complemented her full lips. A few inches shorter than my own five feet seven inches, she appeared to match my age, though her curvy figure made my athletic build look scrawny. Jealous? Who, me?
I showed Helen and Chava the stockpiles and the kiln.
“Those…things can be thrown into the sea,” Helen said with distaste, referring to the molds. “How many orbs have you made so far?” she asked me.
“Twenty-five.”
“Then we have lots of work to do.” Helen examined one of the finished orbs, then gathered a slug of molten glass with a blowpipe.
With her mother’s help, she produced an orb in record time. Her skills amazed me. I felt relieved I had picked an outstanding replacement, but at the same time, suspicion churned in my mind. She seemed a little too qualified, too confident. Her comments at the market about molds had hit too close to the mark.
During the next two days, Helen and Chava gave no evidence of being anything other than a mother and daughter determined to prove they possessed the skills to be the new orb makers. When a squall raced by, her orbs passed the test, containing the storm’s energy without breaking.