49
Firian
No more light streamed through the little window in his room. Firian pulled off his shirt and rubbed it absently over his hair. Tomorrow morning, he would start fighting one-on-one with the best mental warriors Brithnem had. To fight made his mind and blood tense in a satisfying way. His breathing shallowed thinking about it. But he already knew that a victory would be two-edged. Kiria would know. Fighting Amir almost seemed unfair, like Masters fighting Learners. They could only struggle for so long.
And ever on the edges of his mind was the old Tanyuin Head, looking down at his unmoving hands.
“Master Firian!” He looked up. Bard, with his face still wet from the washroom. “I heard! So, you’re not going to get one of those houses in town?”
“No need,” Firian said. After they
