Shatterglass - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,46

crucible to make sure the glass in it was still fit to be worked. “It doesn’t have anything to do with your magic.”

Tris sighed. “Most things don’t have anything to do with my magic,” she said, trying to be patient. “I just like to know about them. I almost never have anything to show for what I do. To me glassmaking, weaving, medicines, metal-smithing, now that’s magical. You make something and it lasts. It isn’t gone in the blink of an eye. And you’ll be able to earn a good living with it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You won’t?”

“Not like a craft mage can. Not if you don’t want to kill people with lightning. Not if you can only bring rain or winds when you’re sure you’re not stealing them from others who need them. If you don’t want to work that way, it’s hard to make a living as a weather mage,” she explained. She could see he didn’t believe her. Time to get to work, she told herself, and said aloud, “Now, Keth — don’t try to blow a globe this time. Let’s just see what happens.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, a combination that always made her want to box the ears of the person who did it. “I’ve blown globes since I was an apprentice, Tris,” he told her. “The fishermen of the Syth always need them as floats for their nets. It’s child’s play. Now that I know what the problem is, it’ll be easy.”

Tris nibbled on her lip. He could be right, though she doubted it. “Do as you like, then.”

He stood for a moment, blowpipe in hand, the light from the furnace casting his face into high relief. Tris settled on a bench to watch. She could feel the forces in the shop come together. Lightning flared from his skin more powerfully than it had before. Quickly Tris sent extra power into the protections that enclosed the shop. She did not want any stray magics to come in now, as they had two days ago. His next accident might not be as wonderful as Chime.

Tris breathed with him and waited as he returned to meditation. At last Keth slid his blowpipe into the furnace. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, though Tris had seen journeymen and even guild masters flinch from it. She removed her spectacles and closed her eyes, sketching the sign for fire on them with a finger. When she opened them, Keth and his surroundings were a blur, but the quivering heat of the furnace was as clear as his magic. The heat twined around Keth like an affectionate cat, sinking into his skin and bones.

Tris wiped a thumb over her eyelids and restored her spectacles to their proper resting-place. Whether it was due to lightning or his own expanded seed of glass magic, Keth could bear higher temperatures than most people. He might even be able to hold fire in his bare hands, Tris thought. She would ask Daja, the smith mage, when she got — “Home” was the next word of her thought. Tris’s eyes burned with sudden tears. After all this time, she still tricked herself, thinking Discipline cottage was nearby and that Daja, Sandry and Briar would be there when she returned for the night. But they weren’t. Discipline and Sandry were in Emelan, months of travel to the north. Daja was in Kethlun’s home country of Namorn, even further north; Briar was on the road to Yanjing in the distant northeast. They were truly scattered and Daja wasn’t here to judge Keth’s magic.

Tris sniffed and locked her attention on her student. Keth brought his gather of molten glass out of the furnace, twirling his blowpipe as he did. His grip on his breathing was shaky.

“Gently,” she murmured, watching the reddish-orange glass change colour as it began to cool. “Remember the feel of your magic.”

He kept the pipe spinning and carefully blew down its length. Tris saw the lightning blaze of his power show through the pipe. He blew steadily, far longer than she could have managed. When his lungs were empty, Keth reheated the glass as he took in fresh air. The power in his breath was brighter still in the pipe this time. Tris, about to say something, held her tongue. He reheated again, but she knew he’d lost the count of his meditation. This time, when he blew into the pipe, glass-coated lightning darted from the end and dropped to the earth without

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