Maria Snyder - Sea Glass

“Of course. I know better.” I tried to sound convincing, but wondered if the effort was for Janco’s benefit or mine.

“He’s got to have another reason for being here.”

He enjoyed twisting my emotions. Dismissing the thought, I said, “Your turn.”

“That big oaf, Ox, must wrestle bulls. He’s stronger than Ari and he wrapped me so tight in the whip, I couldn’t move a muscle.”

I suppressed a smile. Janco liked to exaggerate. This would be an interesting story.

“After waiting all day for the authorities to arrive, they wouldn’t hear our side of the story. Just carted us down to Robin’s Nest and dumped us in jail.” He shot me a cocky grin. “Local yokels. They did a sloppy search. My lock picks went undetected. But then I was in a quandary.” His grin turned sardonic. “I wished Ari was with me. He’s good with planning. But then again he would have lectured me on getting whupped by a man named Ox. I would have never lived it down.”

He swigged his ale and gazed at the liquid as if considering his near miss. Janco’s mood matched the waves in the sea, constantly up and down.

“A quandary?” I prompted.

“Oh, right.” He perked up. “If I escaped, the authorities would assume I was guilty and send soldiers after me. No big deal, except what to do when I caught up with you and Devlen? I couldn’t have him arrested if I had a posse on my tail. But I didn’t want to waste the night waiting for the town’s guards to confirm my story. I’ve seen what he’s done to you. It about killed me to decide.”

Judging by the time of Janco’s arrival with a team of Sitian soldiers, I figured he must have waited. “You did the right thing.”

He downed his ale and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “There is one problem.”

Oh no. I held my breath.

“In exchange for help to rescue you, I had to promise to escort you to the Citadel.”

I relaxed with relief, but my smile froze. A very un-Janco expression hardened his face. He was serious.

“I don’t go back on my word,” he said.

Bad news. I needed to find Ulrick. My mind raced. “What exactly did you promise?”

“I promised to take you to the Council. They’re frantic for your return.”

“Frantic? You could tell this from a message?”

“Yes. It read frantic.” He crossed his arms. “And considering the torture I thought you were enduring, I wasn’t going to waste time negotiating with them.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

He huffed, not mollified.

“Did you promise them a certain time? Like as soon as you rescued me or just that you would escort me home?”

A slow smile lit his face. “The time was implied. As in the sooner the better. But no. I just said I would bring you to the Council.”

“Then we need to make sure you come with me when I return after we find Ulrick.”

Janco ordered another ale to celebrate. “I like the way you think.”

Locating Ulrick proved to be difficult. The next morning, Janco and I talked to the Tulip Inn’s owner. He remembered Ulrick and Devlen because he had worried they would cause trouble. He thought Ulrick had been in a drunken brawl by the way he leaned on his companion and by the fresh blood on his face.

“They rented a room and I didn’t hear a peep out of them all night. In the morning, they left,” the owner said.

“Together?” I asked.

“Yep.”

Devlen had said they parted company. Another lie. No surprise there. “Do you know where they were going?”

“Nope.”

“Have you seen the big Sandseed since then?”

“Nope.”

I thanked him for his time. We left.

“Now what?” Janco asked.

“Check the other inns. See if he stayed anywhere else. If that doesn’t work, we can ask around town and hope someone has seen him.”

Janco groaned. “This is going to take all day.”

We searched the entire morning and half the afternoon. All to no avail. No one remembered seeing Ulrick or Devlen.

Janco gestured to the row of buildings. “He could have locked him in any one of these houses, and paid someone to care for him. I hate to give up, but I think we’re searching for a raindrop in a storm. I vote we put the screws to Mr. Warper’s pressure points and squeeze the information from him.”

“You would have to hit the perfect spot,” I said.

“I’m a patient man.”

Dubious, I looked at him.

“All right, all right. So I have the patience of a two-year-old. Happy now?”

“No, but before we try Devlen there is one more place I want to go.”

“Where?”

“Scene of the crime. Perhaps Ulrick had returned to his sister’s glass factory. Gressa’s his only family in the area. The rest live in Booruby.”

“But you said she ran off when Ulrick confronted her about making those fake diamonds.” Janco rubbed the place where the lower half of his left ear used to be.

“I’m guessing she’s long gone, but maybe someone has seen him. Do you have any better ideas?”

“Yeah. Torturing Devlen. That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Janco followed me to Gressa’s glass factory. I imagined the storefront would be boarded up or a new business opened in its place. A colorful sparkle from the window display greeted us. Rows of elegant glassware lined the shelves. Perhaps a new glass artist had bought her studio.

I peered at the vases and bowls. The excellent craftsmanship and intricate designs were the unmistakable marks of Gressa’s vast talent. She had returned.

We entered the store. More of her pieces decorated tables and filled shelves. The centerpiece of her collection spanned over four feet—a delicate yet top-heavy, fan-shaped vase crafted with translucent orange glass defied gravity. The saleswomen wore silk tunics. Their serene smiles and sales pitch were as smooth as the glass they sold.

A tall woman glided toward us. Her expression didn’t change after her gaze swept our dusty travel clothes. Bonus points.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I need to talk to Gressa,” I said. No sense wasting time on niceties.

A tiny wince creased her saleswoman mask, but in a blink of the eye, it was gone. “I’m sorry. The Artist is on important business right now. Perhaps you would like to leave a message?”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“No. She is extremely busy. If you leave her a message, she might arrange a time for you to talk.”

“Might.” Janco huffed. “Which translates to not in a million years.”

The woman strained to keep her polite demeanor.

“This is regarding her brother, Ulrick. It’s very important,” I said.

“Brother?” The woman’s confusion appeared genuine. “She never mentioned a brother.”

“Is she here? Or do we need to search the place?” Janco’s threat was not idle.

The heart of the factory—the kilns and equipment needed to melt and work with molten glass—resided behind the storefront along with Gressa’s office.

Flustered, the woman gaped at Janco.

He turned to me. “We should search anyway. Ulrick could be hiding in the back.”

I led him to the door marked Employees Only. Alerted by the saleswoman’s attempts to stop us, the rest of the sales staff turned their attention our way. Unconcerned, Janco barged into the factory, trailing a line of protesting women.

“Let me know if you see anyone,” Janco said.

We wove through the heat surrounding Gressa’s four kilns, annealing ovens and various benches. The workers glanced at the parade, but kept spinning their rods to keep the molten glass from sagging toward the ground. My hands itched to help. It had been a long time since I’d worked with glass, and the need ached inside me.