Despite her hatred of walls, Suri remained indoors. She stayed because Arion asked her to. Arion was afraid something bad might happen if Suri left. What that was, Suri couldn’t sense or imagine. She had lived all her life in the wilderness among killer bears and hungry wolf packs, and that was before she could redirect the course of rivers and order the sky to rain. Suri also understood that Arion didn’t want to be alone. Suri had discovered a comfortable companion in her fellow misfit, Raithe, but in this place, at this time, Suri was all Arion had. In the span of one short year, the Miralyith had become Suri’s mentor, substitute mother, dependent child, and best friend. Even though Arion was fully recovered, Suri still worried about the Fhrey’s health, about her using the Art—not because of remaining symptoms, but because she could still see the scar on her head. The small white half-moon was always there as a reminder of how close Arion had come to death.
“So, what am I not supposed to do today?” Suri asked as the two looked out at the waking world over steaming cups of tea. That was another wonderful thing about Arion. She, too, got up early and enjoyed saying “good morning” to the sun.
“Same as yesterday—unless something unusual happens.”
Suri looked down at the Fhrey camp being revealed by the growing light. “Yesterday they threw lightning and blasts of fire—what is it you consider unusual?”
“Yesterday they didn’t know about the runes,” Arion said. “Tactics will change. I’ll try to counteract them. From what Nyphron told me, few of the Spiders survived. I think I can deal with those that remain. I don’t want to boast, but now that Gryndal is dead, I think only Kel Jerydd and the fane himself could best me.”
“You’re Cenzlyor.”
“That’s right.” Arion took a sip. “And you’re Cenzlyor of the Rhunes—ah, humans. Sorry.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“When the first person to wield the Art names you Swift of Mind, the implication is that you’re the best Artist in the world.” Arion shrugged. “Honestly, I think it was just a pet name Fenelyus made up for me and had nothing to do with my skill, but the title impressed a lot of people.”
Suri watched her standing at the wall resting, her cup on the edge while she was still holding it with both hands. Bright blue eyes looked out at the horizon, as if she could see something there. Suri had seen that look before.
“I don’t think it was just a pet name,” Suri said.
“Oh, really? You, who never met Fane Fenelyus, can tell me her mind?”
Suri nodded. “Don’t need to know her—I know you. And I can see the same thing she did.”
“Really? Okay, what does it mean?”
“Swift of Mind.”
Arion smiled. “Well, yes. Literally, sure, but it doesn’t mean I am the best Artist. Like I said, Lothian is more powerful; so is the kel. Even Gryndal—”
“Gryndal was a monster.”
Arion neither nodded nor shook her head. “And if Raithe hadn’t killed him, I’d be dead. But the question remains, why did Fenelyus choose to call me that? I clearly wasn’t the best Artist.”
Suri looked at her curiously. “It has nothing to do with being an Artist. She wasn’t speaking about your skill in the Art at all, she was describing you. I can see the same thing. You’re a lot like Tura. A lot like Magda, too. I think Fenelyus called you Cenzlyor because she thought you were wise. That was why she wanted you to tutor the prince. Not to teach him the art of magic but the art of wisdom.”
Arion stared at her with a look of shock. Then slowly a smile grew. “I suspect I’m not the only wise one here. You know what? You really are Cenz—” Arion looked out east with a concerned face. “Mawyndul??”
Suri felt the hair on her neck rise. She began to put up the shield, but before she could, Arion shoved Suri backward with an incredible force. She stumbled and fell down the stairs, banging her elbows, pain jolting up her arms. She tumbled down a dozen steps before stopping.
“What was—” Suri began, when a flash of light blinded her and the whole upper portion of the tower exploded.
Suri felt the heat and heard a sizzle. This wasn’t fire, and it wasn’t lightning. This was raw, naked power, concentrated and devastating. Stone burst to powder, wood incinerated. Everything above was gone, including the room they had tea in, leaving Suri on the stairs of the now shorter tower. For an instant, Suri thought the worst, then she spotted Arion. She lay sprawled across three steps. Her eyes were open, but she wasn’t moving.
She’s not moving!