Ulrick frowned at the door to the warehouse. “No one will miss me.”

“Sorry I was rather abrupt earlier,” Ulrick said as we led Quartz through Booruby’s crowded avenues. “I didn’t recognize you. You’ve grown.”

“So have you.” I glanced at him before focusing on the street. Quartz bumped my arm and I almost stumbled into him. “Watch it,” I muttered to her.

“Excuse me?”

“Not you. Quartz.”

Ulrick scanned the horse. His eyebrows cocked into an appreciative arc. “She’s well-bred. Must be a Sandseed horse. I’m surprised there are any left.”

The renegade Daviian Clan had decimated the Sandseed Clan, but a few members survived and started anew on the Avibian Plains. “Quartz is the first one to come to the Magician’s Keep in four years.”

“And she was given to you. You must be a powerful magician.”

“I’m not powerful.” I rushed to explain. “I helped a friend, who put in a good word for me about Quartz.”

“Fortunate for you.” His mouth twisted into a bitter frown. “Fortunate that you were invited to the Keep in the first place. That you get to travel with a Master Magician.” He was quiet for a few paces. “I guess you don’t feel lucky. You seem so casual about it all.”

“Would you rather I flaunt it?”

“I would flaunt it.”

But I didn’t earn my position and, even if I did, I wouldn’t take it for granted. At least, I hoped I wouldn’t. “A combination of tragic circumstances led to the discovery of my talent. You might have the same power.”

“I’m too old. Even my mother has given up on me.” Anger laced his words.

“You’re not too old. The Keep brought in Yelena Zaltana when she was twenty.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And Master Bloodgood mentioned searching for another…glass magician. Perhaps you’ll be one, too.”

“Perhaps.”

He didn’t sound happy about the prospect. I studied his strong profile. Eventually, he turned to me. “I’ve learned not to hope. When I made my first bubble vase, it sang with happiness. I was so proud of my creation until my mother dashed it to pieces in the cullet barrel. She claimed it was flawed and I should try again. Nothing I made suited her, while my younger sister, Gressa’s pieces thrilled her. Mother only let me display a vase in her shop to stop me from pestering her. She figured no one would purchase it, and its coating of dust would deter me from making more.”

“But you’ve sold some. I bought one at the market in Thunder Valley.”

“You did? Which one?”

I stopped Quartz and rummaged through my saddlebags. “The design caught my eye, but the popping sealed the sale.” Holding up the little vase with its green bubbles, I smiled at Ulrick’s surprise. “You just need to find the right customers.”

Tucking the vase back into my bag, I grabbed Quartz’s reins and headed west on Vine Street. The road emptied. Ulrick could now walk beside me without being jostled.

“Nelinda said she could sell my pieces,” he said in amazement. “I didn’t believe her.”

“Well, she claimed the glassmaker lives in Ixia.”

He laughed. It was a rich sound, heavy and deep. “Never trust a saleswoman. I guess an Ixian glassmaker gives them a more exotic appeal.”

“They would sell well in the Citadel’s market.” I thought about Aydan and his kilns. Perhaps Ulrick could work with Aydan and me while he studied at the Keep.

Now I was hoping. I shook my head. After my last year of schooling, I would probably return to my parents’ factory. I should be concentrating on the problem at hand and not daydreaming about the future. My thoughts led to the Stormdancers’ orbs, and I remembered Cesca had said her children knew about the Brittle Talc.

“Do you use any special ingredients for your pieces?” I asked Ulrick.

“A few. I like to experiment with the mixture. I used vinegar once to see if I would get more bubbles in the glass.” His gaze held a faraway look as he grinned in amusement. “I did get bubbles. More than I could handle. The vinegar reacted with the lime as soon as I added it. I cleaned the mess for days and I was banned from the mixture room for a season.”

“What other compounds have you tried?”

He shot me a sly smile. “Fishing for information?”

“Just curious.”

“My mother taught me to never trust a fellow glassmaker. What do you really want to know?”

I debated about what I should tell him. “Your mother mentioned you had an interest in Brittle Talc.”

“So that’s why you came to see her. Has someone spiked your family’s lime?”

“No. It’s regarding another matter.”

He waited. The tight buildings of the city dwindled as we walked. A scattering of houses and factories trailed from Booruby like crumbs from a cookie. The acrid smells of the city faded into the moist aroma of manure and wood smoke.

“Never trust a fellow glassmaker. You said so yourself,” I said.

“You think I used Brittle Talc to taint another’s glass?” His voice rumbled low in warning.

It was possible. Instead, I said, “No. I just wondered why you were interested in the substance.”

He stopped. “It’s none of your business.”

“But it is my business,” Zitora said from behind us.