Chapter 6
AFTER THE SUN SET, Janco and I packed our supplies and headed for Ognap. We found a small goat path south of the town and entered the city through a side street. About half the size of Fulgor, the town’s business centered on gemstones. Once mined from underneath the mountains, the stones arrived in Ognap to be cleaned, faceted, categorized and polished before being sold or traded for goods.
Armed guards accompanied the caravans and watched the gemstone factories. Large barracks had been built on the east side of town to house them.
Torches blazed along the main boulevard as loud groups of citizens hustled between pubs under the watchful gaze of the town’s security force. Shops and market stands buzzed with commerce. By the hum in the air, I guessed the evening’s activities had just begun. Miners arrived for a few days’ rest, bringing stories of rich veins and huge stones. They spent their wages, then returned to work.
Janco and I avoided the more popular areas and checked into the Tourmaline Inn. The innkeeper, Carleen, rented us two single rooms—all she had left—and served us a wonderful beef stew and sweet berry pie. The explanation for the inn’s name hung around her neck. A beautiful heart-shaped pink tourmaline rested on her broad chest.
She stroked the stone often, especially when speaking of her late husband.
“Pink.” Janco spat in disgust when she left to help another customer. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
The common room’s decorations tended toward fluffy pink and soft. Hearts crafted from wood, stone and glass lined the shelves, and bright paintings of flowers hung on the walls.
I stifled a chuckle when Janco entered his room. His polite smile strained to hide his dismay at the mountain of pillows heaped on his bed.
“One of my favorite rooms,” Carleen said. “It has a wonderful view of the mountains.” Her fingertips brushed her pendant. She wrinkled her petite nose when she glanced at Janco. “There’s a bathhouse across the street—you need to make use of it before retiring for the evening.”
Carleen ignored his reaction and unlocked the next door for me. “It has my best mattress, sweetie.” It was identical to Janco’s. “Make sure you go along with your friend to the bathhouse.” She waggled her fingers in farewell, and hustled back downstairs.
Janco leaned on the threshold of my door with his face creased in annoyance. “Did she just—”
“Yes.”
“But I don’t—”
“Yes. You do. We both stink.”
“Well, I’m not—”
“Yes. You are.”
He huffed. “You won’t let—”
“No. No complaining. Let’s go.” I grabbed a clean shirt and pants from my saddlebags.
“Well, she could have handled it better,” he grumped.
“No. She couldn’t.”
He settled into a sulky silence as we visited the bathhouse.
Janco might not’ve appreciated the inn’s excessive pillows, but after so many nights spent on the hard ground, I luxuriated in the bed, sleeping well past dawn. I snuggled deeper into the mattress until someone knocked on the door. Covering my ears failed to block the insistent rapping.
“Come on, Opal! We’re burning daylight,” Janco called through the wood.
I yelled for him to go away and the noise stopped. A moment of peace before the door swung open.
“Holy snow cats, did you sleep with all those pillows?” Janco asked.
Despite my cries of protest, he pulled them away and swept the blankets back. “Let’s go.”
With the utmost reluctance, I followed Janco outside. We walked from inn to inn, asking if anyone had seen Ulrick or the two Warpers that Devlen spoke of. No one recognized the descriptions. We tried the pubs and taverns next and then the stables. Nothing.
“What’s next?” Janco asked.
“The barracks. The Warpers could have gotten jobs guarding the gemstone caravans or even be working in the mines.”
“They could. And Devlen could have lied and there is no one here to find.”
I agreed. “Or they could have left. We need to make sure either way.”
Janco rubbed his scar. “Asking questions won’t work in the barracks. Guards for hire are usually ex-soldiers. They tend to stick together and protect each other. I’ll wait until dark and do a little reconnaissance.”
“And I can visit the pubs again and see if they show up.”
“What if we don’t find them?”
Good question. “We should check the mines, but they’re off-limits and the security is impossible to breach.”
“Nothing is impossible,” Janco said. He practically drooled with gleeful anticipation.
“The Cloud Mist Clan has been mining precious stones for ages. Thieves and their own workers have been trying to steal them for ages. They have a complicated network of security. You can’t just go in there and have a look around.”
“Ah! A challenge.”
Nothing I said dimmed his enthusiasm. In fact, it had the opposite effect. I hoped we found the Warpers before then.
After dinner, I suffered through Janco’s lecture on safety.
“Make sure you have your spiders with you,” he said.
“Janco, I—”
“Stay in well-lit areas, and, if you see the Warpers, don’t confront them. Just follow them and we’ll talk to them together. If you run into trouble, go to the town’s guards. Better to be arrested than killed. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He remained stern.
“What? I agreed.”
“Next time try it without the sarcasm.”
We left the inn together. Wearing all black, Janco melted into the shadows. I continued along the main street. Torches blazed and groups of people strolled. Even at this hour merchants called prices and the rapid exchange of haggling filled the air.
Scanning faces, I wandered in the busy downtown area. I stopped to peruse one seller’s glasswares, looking for Ulrick’s unique style. He would need money to support himself. None of the vases popped with his magic. However, I found a beautiful statue of a Sandseed horse. A red heart nestled within its clear glass chest.
I held the horse in my hand. A faint throbbing pulsed through my fingertips as if the heart beat inside. The cause of the vibration could be from magic or from my imagination.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the merchant asked.
“Yes. Do you know how the artist managed to keep the red glass’s shape?” The first gather of molten glass could be shaped and colored, but, when another layer of glass is gathered around the shape, the heat would melt the shape, leaving the color behind.
“It isn’t glass. It’s a ruby.”
That could explain the pulse. When I touched diamonds, they would either flash hot or cold and a vision of where they were mined filled my head. Perhaps rubies vibrated.
The merchant continued, “And not just any ordinary ruby. It’s a Vasko ruby. The best of the best. Each stone comes with an authenticity seal from Vasko Cloud Mist himself!”
Perhaps only Vasko rubies throbbed. I thought