Ziven and Zetta didn’t move. I handed a shovel to each.

“How do we measure out percentages?” Ziven asked.

I blinked at him. He asked about a fundamental skill. “By weight. The kiln can hold one hundred pounds of mix. After you put in the lime and soda ash, the sand ingredients will balance out the rest.”

Comprehension failed to light their faces.

“You’ll need eleven pounds of lime and fourteen pounds of ash, which is twenty-five pounds. So to figure out how much Krystal sand, you’ll need to take forty percent of seventy-five pounds, which is thirty pounds.”

“Why didn’t you just say thirty pounds of white in the first place?” Ziven asked.

“She’s showing off,” Zetta said.

As they shoveled and weighed the sand, I calculated the rest. “Eleven and a quarter pounds of Bloodgood red and three and three-quarters pounds of lava flakes.” I pressed my lips together before I could say more. My father taught me how to calculate percentages into weights before I could read. All his recipes used percentages, as did most glassmakers’, since kilns were built in different sizes, depending on the need. If the Stormdancers bought a kiln that could hold a hundred and fifty pounds, then the ingredient weights would all change.

I worried about their qualifications, remembering Helen’s comments about these two. At least they knew to mix the substances together. The drum mixer resembled a metal barrel laid on its side. Inside the container were fins to help stir. After securing the lid, a handle turned the drum to blend everything.

But when they began pulling the wheeled cart, I couldn’t conceal my amusement. By their fury, I knew any chance for a civil relationship was gone.

“You could help. Or are you too valuable?” Ziven asked.

“Experts don’t get their hands dirty,” Zetta said.

She’d pushed me too far. I’d had enough verbal abuse.

“Do you want to keep your jobs?” I asked them.

They shared a glance.

“It’s an easy question even for you. Either yes or no.”

“Yes,” Ziven said.

“Then shut your mouths and listen to me. Making the orbs is vital. Screwing up means killing Stormdancers. Right now, I’m the only person in the world who knows how they’re made.” I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “I don’t care if you like me or not. But if you utter one more snide comment, you’re both fired.”

“You can’t—” Zetta clamped her mouth shut when her brother slapped her arm.

I waited, but they remained silent. Good. “Now think. Wheeling a hundred pounds is doable on a flat surface, but what happens when you try to pull it up a slope?”

“It’s harder?” Ziven answered.

“Right. How did these wagons of supplies arrive?”

They both looked at the stable. Quartz’s and Moonlight’s heads poked out.

“They’re not our horses,” Ziven said. “Ours go home after we bring all the supplies in.”

“All you need to do is ask.”

“The owners?”

“The horses.” I found a harness hanging in an empty stall. “Quartz, will you help us?”

She nickered and I secured the leather straps and attached the cart. Within minutes, we arrived at the kiln’s cave. After we unloaded the sand mixture into the kiln’s cauldron, I suggested they blend another batch and store it up here. They had plenty of time as the melt wouldn’t be ready for another eight to twelve hours.

They agreed to my idea and I helped them prepare and deliver a second batch. Once we finished, I led Quartz back to the stables. I rubbed her down and fed her a few treats. My stomach rumbled. The sun hovered above the horizon, painting the sky with yellow, orange and red streaks.

I headed to the main cave. Kade wasn’t on the rocks. I found him talking with the other Stormdancers. They sat around the cook fire with Leif and Skippy. All held bowls of steaming white liquid. Even Leif.

“I thought you didn’t like seafood,” I said to him.

He slurped the juice straight from his bowl. “Fish. I said I didn’t like fish. This is soup.”

“There are clams in it,” Raiden said. He ladled a bowl for me.

“Clams aren’t fish.” Leif helped himself to another portion.

“I can cook fish so it tastes like steak,” Raiden said.

“Really?” An avid glow lit Leif’s eyes. He and Raiden launched into an intense discussion about cooking.

I found a seat next to Kade. He draped an arm around my shoulders but didn’t pause in his conversation. Prin looked at us in surprise. She continued to study us with a speculative frown. Wick leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed and an empty bowl in his lap. Tebbs perched on the edge of her seat, listening intently.

“…a few big storms are forming out at sea, but nothing will come close for a few days,” Kade said.

“Then why do we have to come here so early?” Tebbs asked. She had tried to catch Prin’s gaze, but gave up when Prin wouldn’t glance at her.

Tebbs’s rookie question confirmed my guess at her young age.

“There have been early season storms in the past, so it’s always prudent to be prepared and ready early,” Kade said. “Hopefully, the first storm will be mild and you can dance with Prin.” He smiled at Tebbs. She blushed and glanced down.

“Is this your first storm season?” I asked her.