“What do I do with this information?” Demir asked, not bothering to hide the edge of desperation in his voice. He felt as if a massive burden had been placed upon his shoulders. “What did my mother have to do with it? What is the prototype?”
Kastora took a deep breath, as if summoning some reserve of inner strength just to get the words out. He seized Demir by the arm. The master’s hand was surprisingly strong. “Do you know what a phoenix channel is?”
It sounded familiar, like something Demir’s studies had brushed upon long ago. He glanced at Idrian, who just shook his head.
“It is the great goal of the silic sciences,” Kastora explained, “a mechanism by which energy is turned into sorcery, effectively allowing us to recharge spent pieces of godglass.”
Demir scowled. Memories of long-forgotten studies leapt forward. What had his tutor called the phoenix channel? Simple. Elegant. Unobtainable. “A phoenix channel would allow us to avert the disaster of sorcery running out,” Demir replied slowly. He could feel his eyes widen at the implication. “You made one, didn’t you?”
“I did! Your mother and I designed it together. It was her idea to use cinderite, rather than just regular godglass. It was destroyed in the fire. You can find what remains…” Kastora shuddered again, closing his eyes briefly. “… in the corner over there. It can be rebuilt, but you will need the schematics and someone talented enough to follow them. I sent both away.”
Demir searched his pockets for a small notebook and a pencil. He wrote down the word “cinderite”. It was a rare material, formed naturally when lightning struck deposits of cindersand. “Where did you send them?”
“To your hotel. Her name is Thessa Foleer.” Kastora took a deep breath. “She is a twenty-two-year-old journeyman, and my protégé. She is the only one I’d trust to finish my work. I have not seen more raw silic talent in my lifetime. If she does not make it to the hotel, you must find her.”
Demir stared over Kastora’s head, mind churning, trying to form some kind of a plan. Thessa could be anywhere – captured, dead, on the run. She might be at the hotel by the time he returned, or she might have already boarded a ship for Purnia to escape the fighting. “What does she look like?” Kastora stared back at him with the eyes of a dying man who’d just been asked for a laundry list, but Demir did not retract the question. “I need to know,” he pressed.
Finally Kastora said, “A little taller than you. Dirty-blond hair. Soft features. Light skin.” He seemed to push the words out with great effort, and Demir wondered if he had more than moments left. Kastora continued, “She has the scars of a siliceer but … she is also an experienced falconer. You’ll see those scars as well.”
Demir scribbled more notes – Thessa’s name, her description. He let Kastora talk, giving him additional details about both the siliceer and the phoenix channel. He could sense the life slipping out of Kastora, each word growing more pained, each breath more labored. When he finished, his whole body seemed to sag in exhaustion.
“The soldiers who attacked you this morning,” Demir asked, “did they know about the phoenix channel?”
“I’m not sure,” Kastora gasped painfully. “They didn’t seem to be looking for anything in particular. They just wanted to capture the glassworks. Good strategic sense at the start of a war.” He chuckled, though Demir wasn’t sure what was funny about it. Perhaps the giddiness of so much pain-killing milkglass. Kastora’s head lolled to one side, his skin pale, the light in his eyes growing dim. Demir squeezed his hand, silently wishing the old man more life so that he could get more information.
Kastora gave another shuddering sigh, and this one felt more final than the others. His face relaxed, his body sagging against his makeshift bed. His grip on Demir’s hand loosened. “I can’t fight it anymore, Demir.”
“Is there anything else?” Demir begged, shaking Kastora’s shoulder once more.
“It’s time to let him go,” Idrian said.
Demir swore under his breath. So many questions. No time. This wasn’t Kastora’s responsibility anymore. It was now Demir’s. “It’s all right,” Demir relented, “I’ll make sure your work is finished.”
“You must find Thessa,” Kastora ordered. “Enough of this. Let me die.” He spat the cureglass out of the corner of his mouth, and though he still held the milkglass between his teeth, he began to convulse. It took him several minutes to die, and he did not go quietly.
Demir clutched the master’s hand until long after he was dead, thinking. There was so much to consider, more than he could fathom in a single day. Finding out that the cindersand was running out was enough to stagger anyone. The possibility of a phoenix channel – of recycling pieces of godglass – was a light at the end of a very dark tunnel. He was brought out of his reverie by the appearance of Idrian, who he did not even realize had left. The breacher carried a piece of canvas, which he laid gently over Kastora’s body. Demir got to his feet and took a step back to stand next to Idrian, wondering what was going through the breacher’s mind.
“You understand what you just heard must remain a secret?” Demir asked.
Idrian nodded solemnly.
If it were anyone else, Demir would have already killed them with a shard of glass through the back of their neck. There was enough lying around to make it easy and this was too big to be trusted to flapping mouths. But he knew Idrian’s character. He trusted him, just as Kastora had trusted him. Demir forced himself to walk away from the body and found, resting in the opposite corner of the furnace room, the remains of what had once been Kastora’s prototype. It was an odd contraption, mostly destroyed by the flames, but what remained was a box containing a broken tube, several large pieces of godglass, and half-melted sheets of tin.
Kastora had said that the design was Demir’s mother’s idea; another gift she’d left behind, but one that had been destroyed by idiot soldiers trying to capture the glassworks. Demir ran a hand through his hair. “I have no idea how I’m going to do this. I don’t have the knowledge to make a new one of these. I don’t even have the connections with people who could try.”
Idrian snorted. “Find Thessa. I know her, and she’s just as skilled as Kastora claimed.”
“And if I can’t find her?”
“You’re the Lightning Prince. You’ll think of something.”
“The Lightning Prince has been dead for nine years,” Demir snapped. “He lived a short and horrible life.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get his temper under control. This was too much for one man and he could feel the very concept of it threatening to break him. He pushed back. He could not afford to break again. There was too much at stake. In mere minutes everything in his life had become an afterthought. Hiring Kizzie to pursue those killers on his behalf suddenly seemed like the smartest thing he’d done in years. “I apologize.”
He turned to find Idrian staring at him. The normally stoic breacher had a desperate, almost crazed look in his eye. For half a moment, Demir thought that he was going to be attacked.
Idrian said, “This phoenix channeclass="underline" It can recharge spent godglass?”
“That’s what Kastora said.”
“So if you rebuild that, you could recharge the godglass in my eye?”
Demir was taken aback. “I suppose I could.”