Zitora joined me.

“Where are the Stormdancers?” I asked. No life stirred on The Flats and only seabirds circled below. “I don’t see any signs of them.”

“Farther south. This is the only smooth part of The Cliffs.” She pointed to the left. “And it’s where the trail starts.”

A narrow ledge of shale jutted from the edge of The Cliffs. A pregnant mare wouldn’t fit on it. I eyed Quartz’s middle. My leg would probably dangle over nothing.

“You’re not afraid of heights are you?” Zitora asked.

“I guess I’m about to find out.”

“We’ll walk the horses down.”

“Good idea.”

“Just follow me and keep your eyes on Sudi.” Zitora squeezed my shoulder.

During the first hour of our descent, I wasn’t sure if I led Quartz down or if she guided me. My legs tended to freeze in place whenever I contemplated the thin ribbon of ground under my feet, and my breath came in short huffs whenever I caught sight of the rocks gleaming below.

The pungent scent of salt and fish dominated my senses. And the constant shushing of the waves filled my ears. Eventually, the soothing rise and fall of the water calmed my breathing, but the occasional harsh cry of a seagull would jolt a gasp from me.

Once we descended into the twisting network of the wind-sculpted cliffs, my fears disappeared. The Stormdance Clan had carved the trail through ripples of shale. Stunning wings of rock reached out to the sea and between these wings were caves and grooves.

Lower down on the cliff, the water added its own artistic touch, carving deep caverns and wearing away enough rock to leave bridges and chimneys behind.

According to Zitora, the Stormdancers lived in the caves closer to the sand. The higher ones were all empty. The lower ones had wood and cloth screens pulled across the entrances. Probably for privacy. When we finally arrived at the base of The Cliffs, the sun shone directly overhead—midafternoon. In a large cavern, we found a small group sitting around a fire.

Before going inside, I glanced up. This time, the sheer beauty and height of The Cliffs pressed down on me.

“Opal, give Quartz’s reins to Tal, he’ll take care of her,” Zitora said.

A young man with skin the color of coal dust flashed me a shy smile. Tal led both horses along the sand.

“Where are they going?” I asked.

Another man had joined us. Around forty years old, he appeared to be about twenty years older than Tal. “We have temporary stables set up past the outcropping.” He pointed. The sun had tanned his skin to a warm brown and his short black hair was peppered with flecks of gold. “If a storm comes, we can move them into the higher caves for protection.” He smiled, showing the reason for the wrinkles.

“I should go help unsaddle—”

“Don’t worry. Tal will take care of them. We don’t get many horses here, but Tal knows what to do. Come inside, we have much to discuss.”

I followed Zitora and the man. With Tal gone, only four others waited by the fire. The man introduced us to them. Nodin and Varun were brothers and, along with their sister, Indra, the three of them made the special glass orbs. The fourth, Kade, was a Stormdancer.

By their solemn and dire expressions, they didn’t appear happy to see us. The man—Raiden—was the camp manager.

“I sent the others back to the village,” Raiden said. “No sense having everyone here if we can’t dance. I hope you can help us out, Opal.”

“I don’t see how,” Kade said. He threw a stick into the fire and stood. “She’s younger than Tal.” He stalked out.

The silence thickened until Raiden sighed. “Bad times, but we’ve been through worse. I sent for an expert and here you are. I trust the Council and Master Cowan.” His round face and kind brown eyes radiated hope.

I knew I was supposed to respond with a comment about being the right person for the job, but I tended to agree with Kade. At least Raiden used Zitora’s title.

“Tell us what’s been happening,” Zitora said.

Raiden explained about the orbs shattering. “…when the energy is captured inside, the Stormdancer seals the orb with a rubber stopper and we transport the orb to one of our factories. But with these new orbs, as soon as they are sealed the energy bursts through them, sending shards of glass out with killer speed. We lost two Stormdancers.”

The three glassblowers seemed to sink down into themselves. Their guilt and pain piercing them as lethally as the glass debris had penetrated the Stormdancers.

“What is different with these orbs?” Zitora asked.

“Nothing!” Roused from his misery, Nodin jumped to his feet. “We’ve been following Father’s methods exactly. Same recipe. Same temperature. Same equipment.”

“How do you make them?” she asked.

Nodin began a lecture on glassmaking. I stopped him after a few sentences.

“Better to show me exactly what your father did to make the orbs,” I said.

They led me outside and up the trail.

“We make all the orbs before the two stormy seasons,” Nodin explained.

Out in the sunlight, the tight curls of his short black hair shone. The three siblings all had the same color of hair. Indra had pulled her shoulder-length curls into a ponytail and Varun had twisted his longer hair into rows of braids tight against his head.

“We’ll have to relight the fire,” Varun said.

“You let it go out?” I asked in amazement. Getting the kiln heated to the proper temperature could take days.