Sea Glass
Page 10
“You would have to hit the perfect spot,” I said.
“I’m a patient man.”
Dubious, I looked at him.
“All right, all right. So I have the patience of a two-year-old. Happy now?”
“No, but before we try Devlen there is one more place I want to go.”
“Where?”
“Scene of the crime. Perhaps Ulrick had returned to his sister’s glass factory. Gressa’s his only family in the area. The rest live in Booruby.”
“But you said she ran off when Ulrick confronted her about making those fake diamonds.” Janco rubbed the place where the lower half of his left ear used to be.
“I’m guessing she’s long gone, but maybe someone has seen him. Do you have any better ideas?”
“Yeah. Torturing Devlen. That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
Janco followed me to Gressa’s glass factory. I imagined the storefront would be boarded up or a new business opened in its place. A colorful sparkle from the window display greeted us. Rows of elegant glassware lined the shelves. Perhaps a new glass artist had bought her studio.
I peered at the vases and bowls. The excellent craftsmanship and intricate designs were the unmistakable marks of Gressa’s vast talent. She had returned.
We entered the store. More of her pieces decorated tables and filled shelves. The centerpiece of her collection spanned over four feet—a delicate yet top-heavy, fan-shaped vase crafted with translucent orange glass defied gravity. The saleswomen wore silk tunics. Their serene smiles and sales pitch were as smooth as the glass they sold.
A tall woman glided toward us. Her expression didn’t change after her gaze swept our dusty travel clothes. Bonus points.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I need to talk to Gressa,” I said. No sense wasting time on niceties.
A tiny wince creased her saleswoman mask, but in a blink of the eye, it was gone. “I’m sorry. The Artist is on important business right now. Perhaps you would like to leave a message?”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“No. She is extremely busy. If you leave her a message, she might arrange a time for you to talk.”
“Might.” Janco huffed. “Which translates to not in a million years.”
The woman strained to keep her polite demeanor.
“This is regarding her brother, Ulrick. It’s very important,” I said.
“Brother?” The woman’s confusion appeared genuine. “She never mentioned a brother.”
“Is she here? Or do we need to search the place?” Janco’s threat was not idle.
The heart of the factory—the kilns and equipment needed to melt and work with molten glass—resided behind the storefront along with Gressa’s office.
Flustered, the woman gaped at Janco.
He turned to me. “We should search anyway. Ulrick could be hiding in the back.”
I led him to the door marked Employees Only. Alerted by the saleswoman’s attempts to stop us, the rest of the sales staff turned their attention our way. Unconcerned, Janco barged into the factory, trailing a line of protesting women.
“Let me know if you see anyone,” Janco said.
We wove through the heat surrounding Gressa’s four kilns, annealing ovens and various benches. The workers glanced at the parade, but kept spinning their rods to keep the molten glass from sagging toward the ground. My hands itched to help. It had been a long time since I’d worked with glass, and the need ached inside me.
The familiar hum of the kilns vibrated in my ears. Not all of the factory employees were in the middle of a project. A large man grabbed a punty iron. The five-foot-long metal rod made a formidable weapon. He ordered us to leave the factory.
Janco continued his search, ignoring the man. Using his picks, Janco popped the lock to Gressa’s mixing room and entered. I stayed by the door with my hands wrapped around the handles of my sais, keeping the man in sight.
Janco returned and headed toward Gressa’s glass-walled office. After another order to stop failed to work, the man swung his rod. I yanked my sais from my cloak and deflected his strike. The clang of metal pierced the air. I switched my sais to a defensive position. With the shafts along my forearms and the knobs up, I could attack or defend, depending on the circumstances.
Two things happened. One good and one bad.
The noise created instant silence, but then the sales staff moved away to give their fellow worker more room to maneuver. A few disappeared.
Janco nodded at me. “Keep him busy.”
Great. My opponent pulled back to bash me on the head. Perhaps barging in here hadn’t been the best idea. I flipped my sais out and crossed them into an X-shape, blocking the head shot. The force of his blow vibrated down my arms.
He jerked the rod back, but I followed, closing the distance between us. I stepped to within a foot of him and jabbed him hard in the solar plexus with the sais’s knobs. He stumbled, gasping for breath.
I caught a glimpse of another armed attacker and turned in time to stop a hit to my stomach.
Janco’s voice cut through the din. “No sign of Gressa or Ulrick. Now what?”
The factory workers abandoned their tasks and armed themselves with rods, jacks and battledores.
“Time to leave,” I shouted, but Janco was already engaged in a fight with two men. “Don’t hurt anyone.” I ducked a wild swing. The workers were strong, but unskilled at fighting. They also outnumbered us four to one.
“I’m a patient man.”
Dubious, I looked at him.
“All right, all right. So I have the patience of a two-year-old. Happy now?”
“No, but before we try Devlen there is one more place I want to go.”
“Where?”
“Scene of the crime. Perhaps Ulrick had returned to his sister’s glass factory. Gressa’s his only family in the area. The rest live in Booruby.”
“But you said she ran off when Ulrick confronted her about making those fake diamonds.” Janco rubbed the place where the lower half of his left ear used to be.
“I’m guessing she’s long gone, but maybe someone has seen him. Do you have any better ideas?”
“Yeah. Torturing Devlen. That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
Janco followed me to Gressa’s glass factory. I imagined the storefront would be boarded up or a new business opened in its place. A colorful sparkle from the window display greeted us. Rows of elegant glassware lined the shelves. Perhaps a new glass artist had bought her studio.
I peered at the vases and bowls. The excellent craftsmanship and intricate designs were the unmistakable marks of Gressa’s vast talent. She had returned.
We entered the store. More of her pieces decorated tables and filled shelves. The centerpiece of her collection spanned over four feet—a delicate yet top-heavy, fan-shaped vase crafted with translucent orange glass defied gravity. The saleswomen wore silk tunics. Their serene smiles and sales pitch were as smooth as the glass they sold.
A tall woman glided toward us. Her expression didn’t change after her gaze swept our dusty travel clothes. Bonus points.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I need to talk to Gressa,” I said. No sense wasting time on niceties.
A tiny wince creased her saleswoman mask, but in a blink of the eye, it was gone. “I’m sorry. The Artist is on important business right now. Perhaps you would like to leave a message?”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“No. She is extremely busy. If you leave her a message, she might arrange a time for you to talk.”
“Might.” Janco huffed. “Which translates to not in a million years.”
The woman strained to keep her polite demeanor.
“This is regarding her brother, Ulrick. It’s very important,” I said.
“Brother?” The woman’s confusion appeared genuine. “She never mentioned a brother.”
“Is she here? Or do we need to search the place?” Janco’s threat was not idle.
The heart of the factory—the kilns and equipment needed to melt and work with molten glass—resided behind the storefront along with Gressa’s office.
Flustered, the woman gaped at Janco.
He turned to me. “We should search anyway. Ulrick could be hiding in the back.”
I led him to the door marked Employees Only. Alerted by the saleswoman’s attempts to stop us, the rest of the sales staff turned their attention our way. Unconcerned, Janco barged into the factory, trailing a line of protesting women.
“Let me know if you see anyone,” Janco said.
We wove through the heat surrounding Gressa’s four kilns, annealing ovens and various benches. The workers glanced at the parade, but kept spinning their rods to keep the molten glass from sagging toward the ground. My hands itched to help. It had been a long time since I’d worked with glass, and the need ached inside me.
The familiar hum of the kilns vibrated in my ears. Not all of the factory employees were in the middle of a project. A large man grabbed a punty iron. The five-foot-long metal rod made a formidable weapon. He ordered us to leave the factory.
Janco continued his search, ignoring the man. Using his picks, Janco popped the lock to Gressa’s mixing room and entered. I stayed by the door with my hands wrapped around the handles of my sais, keeping the man in sight.
Janco returned and headed toward Gressa’s glass-walled office. After another order to stop failed to work, the man swung his rod. I yanked my sais from my cloak and deflected his strike. The clang of metal pierced the air. I switched my sais to a defensive position. With the shafts along my forearms and the knobs up, I could attack or defend, depending on the circumstances.
Two things happened. One good and one bad.
The noise created instant silence, but then the sales staff moved away to give their fellow worker more room to maneuver. A few disappeared.
Janco nodded at me. “Keep him busy.”
Great. My opponent pulled back to bash me on the head. Perhaps barging in here hadn’t been the best idea. I flipped my sais out and crossed them into an X-shape, blocking the head shot. The force of his blow vibrated down my arms.
He jerked the rod back, but I followed, closing the distance between us. I stepped to within a foot of him and jabbed him hard in the solar plexus with the sais’s knobs. He stumbled, gasping for breath.
I caught a glimpse of another armed attacker and turned in time to stop a hit to my stomach.
Janco’s voice cut through the din. “No sign of Gressa or Ulrick. Now what?”
The factory workers abandoned their tasks and armed themselves with rods, jacks and battledores.
“Time to leave,” I shouted, but Janco was already engaged in a fight with two men. “Don’t hurt anyone.” I ducked a wild swing. The workers were strong, but unskilled at fighting. They also outnumbered us four to one.
