Dragon Spear Read Online Free PDF Page B

smirking at me. I hadn’t meant to scold. I hid my embarrassment by going to stand beside Luka as he picked up one of the covered buckets and presented it to Shardas.
    “Er, thank you,” Shardas said, taking the bucket with a puzzled look. Then he lifted the lid. “Black sand!”
    “Black sand?” Velika had lumbered up in her stately yet cumbersome way. “What is it for?”
    “It melts into a fine red glass,” Shardas told her with delight. “I shall make you a scarlet vase.” He looked down at Luka and me. “Thank you so very much!”
    “Luka found it on some secluded beach in Moralien,” I said, squeezing my betrothed’s waist. “I wouldn’t have known it was different from any other sand,” I admitted.
    “It’s hard to see how something like this could change into red glass,” Shardas agreed, running a claw through the coarse, dark grains. He carefully poured some of the sand into an iron pan and set it in the oven.
    “Do you use these to shape the glass?” Hagen picked up a long tube lying by the base of the oven.
    “Does everyone in this world know how to make glass except me?” I huffed.
    “Barten Foss is a glassmaker,” Hagen said with a shrug.
    “Barten Foss? That horrible, gangly boy who used to call me ‘Spotty’?” I wrinkled my nose.
    “I wouldn’t call him horrible or gangly around our cousin Leesel,” Hagen said. “They’re courting.” Then it was his turn to look embarrassed suddenly. “Although, Aunt Reena told her not to get too attached. She’s planning on arranging marriages for Leesel and Pella to any nobles caught unawares in the palace.”
    Luka laughed until his eyes watered. “I almost wish we were back at the palace to witness that,” he said when he could speak.
    I hid my mortification by trying to peer into the oven. “So the sand will melt?”
    “Yes,” Shardas said, taking pity on me and tapping the pan with a claw. I had to shield my eyes as the fire crackled and the heat made sweat break out across my forehead and down my neck. “When it becomes the consistency of soft toffee, it is ready to be shaped.”
    “Have you had much success so far?” I had to step away from the oven, and Velika obligingly coiled her tail so that I could sit on it. The heat had quite taken my breath away.
    At least Luka had the sense to stay well clear of the fire. Hagen, though, was still caught up in studying the metal tubes and the exterior of the oven.
    “Well,” Shardas said slowly, “the glass is certainly clear.” He ducked his head and scuffed at the sand around our feet.
    “I’m sure that with practice your creations will be more regular in shape,” Velika said reassuringly.
    “More regular in shape?” I arched an eyebrow.
    “Less lopsided,” Shardas admitted. “And less lumpy.”
    I laughed, but not to be rude. “You should have seen my first embroidery samplers. Awful!”
    “You see, my dear,” Velika said, “if you want to do anything well, you must practice.”
    Tapping the pan again, Shardas gave a sulfurous sigh. “I know. But I shall make you a vase from this sand, Velika, and it will not be lopsided.”
    “I’d still like to see what you’ve done so far,” I said. “I haven’t seen your cave yet.” But then the oven made a hissing sound and my attention was drawn back to our current experiment.
    “Almost ready,” Shardas said. He blew a single thin tendril of blue flame into the oven, and the hissing turned to a bubbling. “Stand back.”
    Luka and Hagen lined up beside Velika and me, away from the oven and the long pipes. Hagen’s face was wistful, and I knew that he longed to stand right beside Shardas, maybe even hold one of the pipes. I sympathized, but at the same time, I did not want to see my little brother get burned. I took his hand and he gave me a brief smile before both of us turned back to Shardas.
    Having selected one of the pipes—a gleaming shaft about double my height but not quite big enough around for me to put