Written for the livejournal community 31days, the June 2006 set. Inspired by Lady Silvamord's lovely Morning Glory (May 2006).
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June 1: wind chimes moved by solar winds, feat. Lindhall Reed and Arram Draper
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"So how exactly do these work?"
Lindhall Reed raised a gray-blonde eyebrow at his new companion. "Did they not have wind chimes in Tyra?"
Arram Draper fixed him with a withering glare. "Of course they did. Contrary to popular belief, we did have artists in that repulsive swampland. But we also had winds to make these" – he jangled the delicate squares of colored glass, held together by fine strands of thread, for emphasis – "make their pretty sounds." He stilled his hand, but the chimes continued to sway as if in an invisible wind, casting rose and turquoise hues on the sand while their sweet ringing drifted through the hot air.
"They're spelled so that they can be moved by solar winds," Lindhall explained, his enthusiasm for even a minor enlightenment apparent. "Or, as you can see here, simply by the power of the sun itself."
"That's all?" Arram snorted. "What's the point, when mages can do the same?" He held his hand before the chimes. Black fire gathered over his palm before leaving his skin to blanket the pieces of glass, until they were obscured by the cloud of his magic.
The chimes shattered in an explosion of tinkling glass. When he had uncovered his eyes, Lindhall burst out laughing.
Arram scowled at him, then tossed back his long hair so that he could look down his long nose at the shorter man. "It just shows how powerful my Gift is. You won't be laughing when I'm a Black Robe."
Lindhall did sober a bit at his friend's words. "I already knew that, you dolt. It's just . . ." Mirth brightened his pale eyes again. "Those were Ozorne's chimes. I can't wait to see how the heir to the Carthak throne reacts when he sees you've destroyed one of his sparkly trinkets."
Arram fixed him with the same contemptuous glare he would place upon a daft seven-year-old. "And you really think that the heir cares about some strung-together pieces of heated sand?"
Lindhall directed the role of idiot back onto him as well as if he had a reflecting charm. "Did you see how cranky he got about his necklace last week? And that didn't even have rubies and emeralds strung along with it. Plus, he probably uses this to scry."
Arram inspected the decimated chimes more closely, and he grew pale beneath his developing tan.
Lindhall grinned complacently. "You had better start perfecting your glass-blowing skills, my friend. Of course, with your luck, you'll end up burning down a wing of the Imperial Palace."
Arram scooped up a fistful of the abundant orange sand and hurled it at the other youth.