Age of Swords (The Legends of the First Empire #2)

Suri frowned. Why did she have to pick butterflies as her example? “Maybe I like being a caterpillar. What’s wrong with inching along and eating leaves?”

Arion sighed and switched once more to Fhrey. “You don’t really believe that. Now that you know…now that you’ve seen what it’s like, you’ve had a taste and are hungry for more. Now that you’ve touched the chords, you can’t help wanting to fly. None of us can. I remember my first time. Nearly a thousand years ago, but I remember it so clearly. I never felt so alive as when I first touched the chords, when I saw what was possible…like being born a second time. Do you honestly think there are any caterpillars who, upon learning that they can become one of those beautiful winged creatures, say, ‘No, thanks. It’s not for me. I don’t really want to fly. I don’t want to be beautiful and soar to the sun on painted wings.’?”

“Maybe not, but I would.”

Arion sat down. “Why?”

Suri wished she would just go away.

“Why not be a butterfly, Suri?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have much time.”

Suri sighed to show she didn’t want to talk about it, but Arion just waited. So did Minna, who looked at her friend with expectant eyes; Minna loved stories. Suri sighed again, took a new breath, and spoke in Fhrey because she didn’t want to have to repeat the whole thing. “I once found a grove of perfect strawberries. I love them, and these were big, and ripe, and wonderful. Usually, other animals get to them before I do, but that time I was first. Completely alone, I considered myself so very lucky, didn’t have to share. I ate all of them, one after another, whole handfuls at a time. So wonderful! I should have taken some for Tura, but I didn’t. I devoured them all. I became very sick. My stomach twisted and cramped. I went home to ask Tura for help, but she wasn’t there. I lay in bed for hours, feeling terrible.”

“Are you saying that pain can come from too much—”

“Quit trying to get ahead of me,” Suri snapped. “This has nothing to do with the strawberries; they were just what brought me home.” She waited, and Arion didn’t say any more. “So all night I was sick. I called out for Tura, but she never came, even though she had always done so in the past. The next day I went looking, and I found her facedown in the garden.”

“Are you saying—”

Arion stopped when Suri pushed up and glared at her.

“Boy, you are impatient.” Suri huffed. “Do you want me to explain or not?”

Arion made a show of closing her mouth.

Suri frowned at her then went on. “Tura was dead, and I was alone. All my life Tura had taken care of me. Told me what to do and what to avoid. She was the mystic, and I was her apprentice. That’s what she always said. And she also said that when she finally died, I would be the mystic—just me, no one else. The forest would be all mine, and I wouldn’t have any more rules to obey, no more restrictions, no one to report to. I used to long for the day when I would finally be in charge of myself. But that morning, I knelt beside Tura and begged Wogan to wake her. All of a sudden, I didn’t want to be the mystic anymore. But”—she paused and this time looked right into Arion’s eyes—“once you’re a butterfly it’s impossible to go back to being a caterpillar, even if you want to. You’re stuck with those wings, and you have to fly away, and life stops being a simple thing of inching happily along leaves and eating in the sun. Life becomes something else entirely. You don’t get to stay in the Hawthorn Glen beside the gurgling brook. You’re forced to go away, away from the forest that had been your home, away from everything you’ve known and loved. You have to be something different and give up everything. There’s always a cost. And I can’t imagine those pretty wings come cheap. Nothing has so far.”

They sat for a while, not speaking.

The sun was warm enough to be called hot. The bees didn’t care. They labored as they always did, going from one flower to the next, landing and straining the stalks with their weight. When they left, the stalks sprang back and waved goodbye. Suri didn’t know these bees—at least she didn’t think so. She was already too far from home. The breeze was nice, and she was certain it was the same one she knew from the forest. Nothing like a good breeze on sweating skin to make a person feel loved.

“I know why you did it,” Suri finally said.

“Did what?”

Suri wasn’t looking at Arion. She stared out at the hazy summer horizon where hills rose above hills until they became mountains of faint blue. “Why you had me free the giant instead of doing it yourself. It’s because of your head. It hurts when you do magic. You haven’t done any for a long time, but you put out Magda when she was on fire. That’s why you needed to lie down. And after you had trapped the giant, you could barely walk. You slept even though it was the middle of the day. You wanted me to free him so you could avoid the pain.”

Suri didn’t know what she wanted Arion to say, or even if she wanted her to say anything. She told her because the knowledge had been trapped inside and needed to get out. Otherwise she would feel as if she was holding a secret, and having secrets was like keeping a weasel inside a house. They don’t like it one bit and dig and claw to escape. A weasel will make a terrible mess of a home, and a secret does the same to a friendship. Suri had come to think of Arion as a friend, a good friend. They had known each other for only a short time, but already Suri knew that, next to Minna, Arion was her best friend.

When Arion didn’t say anything for several minutes, Suri turned to look. The Fhrey was sitting hunched forward in the grass surrounded by wildflowers that gently patted her. The sun was on Arion’s face, and Suri saw glistening silver lines running down both cheeks. Her eyes were closed and her body trembled, but she didn’t make a sound.

Suri was puzzled, but just for a moment. Then she understood, and she slid over to the Fhrey. She put her arms around Arion and felt her lean in. “It wasn’t your fault, either,” Suri told her. “Wogan wanted the giant to die. After what he and his brothers had done to the forest, I imagine all of creation wanted revenge.”

“I don’t believe in revenge,” Arion said in a wet whisper as she clutched at Suri’s waist.

“Then I suspect you’re the only one.”

Suri held her, feeling Arion quiver, then pause, sniffle, and quiver again. She had never held anyone before, except Minna, and it felt strange. Not bad, really, just odd because she didn’t know exactly what to do. Maybe it didn’t matter. She only had to be there.

“Suri,” Arion said, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

Arion didn’t answer, and the two went on hugging each other among the swaying flowers under the afternoon’s summer sun.