“Very well. What I do not know is why you skipped your morning classes.”

“I already earned high marks for them. Saying I need a refresher is an insult to my intelligence. What is sorely lacking in my education is the ability to defend myself. My…ah…adventures in the field have taught me I need to improve my fighting and self-defense techniques.” And picking locks.

“Are you saying you know better than me?”

“Yes, sir.” Double suicide. Was that even possible?

The silence pressed on my skin, sending darts of fear through my chest. I resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. To apologize. To beg his forgiveness.

“Good for you. I approve your new schedule.”

I needed a few seconds to recover. Master Bloodgood didn’t wait. He launched into a lecture about examining the past to predict the future. At the end, he assigned me a research project.

“Go through the history books and search for any mention of another glass magician.”

An odd request, considering he knew more about Sitian history than most history professors. “Wouldn’t you have remembered reading about one before?”

“Yes and no. If one was mentioned by name or by direct reference, I would have remembered. However, many times bits of information are scattered throughout and I do not think they are important because I do not know enough about the subject. You have the experience, and will be able to pick up on those subtle facts.” He swept an arm out. “You’re welcome to read the books here or take them along. Make sure you are careful with them. Many are very old.”

“Yes, sir.” I pulled a few dusty tomes from the shelves and carried them back to my rooms before I reported for my hour in the glass factory.

The magician assigned to “watch” me waited outside the door with ill-concealed dislike etched into his large forehead. He had been an apprentice when I started my studies at the Keep. I couldn’t remember his name and he didn’t bother to introduce himself.

“The null shield is down,” he informed me in clipped tones. “If you deviate from what you are supposed to do, I will have it up in an instant.”

“Do you know anything about glass blowing?” I asked.

“Doesn’t matter. I know about magic and am quite powerful. That is all I need to know.”

Of all the people the Masters could have assigned, I had to get him. I stifled my frustration. “Okay, Skippy, let’s get started. I only have an hour.”

The thick, roaring warmth embraced me as I entered the shop. Hot smells of glass and the dusty scratch of sand filled my nose. Mara worked at a bench, shaping a bowl with Piecov assisting. A young novice heated the end of a blowpipe. Her hands left sweaty smudges on the metal.

Mara introduced Emilie as my new assistant. Emilie’s blond hair clung to her neck and she shrank back when I extended my hand in greeting. Wonderful.

“Thank you for the consideration, Mara. But you know I’m quite able to work on my own. I’m sure Emilie has homework to do.”

Before my sister could voice her protest, Emilie dashed out with hurried thanks. It was bad enough to have Skippy hovering; I wasn’t going to endure the girl’s frightened flutterings. Cranky? Who, me?

I pulled the blowpipe from the heater and blew through the pipe, checking to make sure nothing blocked it. The far end pulsed with reddish light. Hot glass only stuck to hot metal. I opened the kiln and gathered a slug of molten glass onto the pipe.

Using metal tweezers, I shaped the glass into a dog. When I reached the step where I should channel magic from the blanket of power and into the heart of the dog, I skipped it. Instead, I cut in a jack line and cracked the dog off the pipe. He went into the annealing oven to slowly cool.

Magicians would know he lacked magic. The dog wouldn’t glow with an inner fire, and they would see what everyone else saw when examining my sculptures. An ugly cocker spaniel.

Usually in an hour, I could make a dozen animals. This time, I ended up with five. None of them glowed with magic.

Skippy peered at me. His close-set brown eyes pinched together with suspicion. “I didn’t feel you draw magic.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t. I’ve been surrounded by a null shield for the past ten days. Perhaps I’ll be able to do it tomorrow.”

When I reported my lack of usable glass messengers to Mara, she tapped a finger on her desk. As the glass-shop manager, she ordered supplies, scheduled workers and maintained the kiln.

“Every day I’ve been getting orders for more,” she said. “The supply you left me is almost gone.” Her voice remained neutral, yet a question lurked.

“I’ll try again.”

“If you need help just let me know. You have my full support.”

We confused Skippy. He might be a powerful magician, but I suspected he lacked basic common sense.

He announced the return of the null shield with sneering glee. I ignored him, returning to my rooms to delve into history for Master Bloodgood. The project intrigued me and I scanned for information about glass magic as well as diamond magic.

I wanted to explore the possibility of using diamonds in my glass messengers. They might be useful someday when I reached an understanding with the Council. Until then, I would keep it quiet.

After a week of going through the motions at the glass shop and not producing any usable glass, Master Bloodgood questioned me in his office.

“What is the problem, child?”

“The null shield.” I flipped through an old book, seeking a reference.