Chapter 113

The foyer was amazing. Don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t more impressive than Father’s house, but to have so much space here, in the Tower, left my jaw hanging for a moment. It was an opulent room. The sleek walls were adorned with framed paintings of Boston’s Griidlords through the ages, all the way back to the first, after our Tower rose some 640 years ago.

As I looked at those portraits, it struck me—Boston had never produced a truly legendary Sword. Not like the savage Bloodsaw of Pittsburgh, the fleet Montagnion of San Francisco, or a Danefer like Miami had claimed. A strange certainty settled over me then: I could be that great Sword. I could be the one.

After starting The Choosing so ineptly, so uncertain, it was strange to feel this way. I knew the feeling had grown in me over time, but something had been distinctly different when I awoke that morning. It was as though destiny had whispered to me in my sleep, and, for the first time, I truly believed in myself.

The attendant left me then, promising to send refreshments, and I settled into an ornate armchair, carved and gilded.

I had one day. On the morrow, I would face Lance. I tried to calculate the time. I had woken early and spent some time walking here. It still had to be before breakfast time for most common folk. I had time. I needed that time. It was only one day, and I had much to do. As I settled into the chair, I felt a rush of amazement at the certainty I now felt. All through the events of the last few days, I had been passive, snatching victory at the least likely moments. Even as the days passed and I grew into my powers, I failed to realize I had some semblance of control over my life.

But at that moment, sitting in that chair, in perfect silence and solitude—save for the low hum of the ventilation—I found confidence in myself. Not confidence in my father's guidance, nor in the attributes I could gain so quickly, but in myself. I had survived the last round because I had picked my teammates. It was my judgment, not my father's, nor the voice's, that allowed me to survive the catastrophe of my incapacitation. That might have been part of what lifted me so much that day.

Sitting in that chair, waiting for Baltazar, had been my plan. Meeting the Lord Supreme and gleaning something from him about the coming challenge might help me, but the real reason I had come was for this privacy. I opened my mouth and, clearly but a little quietly, said, "Voice, are you there?"

In a moment, I had a response, leaking into my ears. The weird childish voice said, "Of course I am, Tiberius. Where else would I be?"

I considered his choice of words, then said, "I've come here to talk to you."

The voice said, "Oh, I know. I know you too well now, Tiberius. I understand that you don't give much of a shit about Lord Farty Pants. You came here to talk to me. I think I knew this was coming. I just thought maybe it could wait until after you won the suit."

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I said, "That's exactly the problem. I need to know if I really want to win the suit."

A heavy silence stretched between us then. I let it stretch. I had come to know the character of this voice a little, and there was one thing I was certain of.

The voice finally said, "You love the suit."

"I do."

"Of course, you want to win it."

"I do want to win it. I want to own it. I never want to leave it. But I don't know if I want to be married to you for eternity."

The voice responded, hurt like a jilted wife. "Tiberius, how can you wound me so? Through all of this, who has been more by your side than I have? I’ve been with you through all of it, guiding you, helping you. I’ve never steered you wrong. Your father hasn’t even attended every day of the tournament. Those girls only tease you. That oaf who wore the shield is as fickle as the rest. Who has been a truer friend to you than I?"

I paused. When it mentioned Father, I felt a sickening lurch in my gut. But what interested me most was the lack of mention of Harold. If the suit wanted to compare itself to loved ones in my life, why not mention him?

I said, "What about Harold?"

There was no response.

I said, "You never mentioned Harold."

Silence again. I can't say I didn’t feel satisfied by the silence I had inflicted. I couldn’t understand, at the time, why I only heard the voice in the Tower and in the suit, but I knew that was the case, and I wanted an explanation.

When the voice didn’t respond immediately, I said, "Harold hasn’t been to the Tower, and I’ve never spoken to him in the suit, so you don’t know who the hell I’m talking about, do you?"

The voice said, "Well, I... ah..."

I said, "Why can I only talk to you here or in the suit? Why can I talk to you without speaking in the suit, but need to speak out loud to you here?"

The voice came back, certain and self-assured. If anything, it sounded condescending. "Tiberius! I’ve told you, I will reveal all over time, but first, I need you to win the suit. I can’t reveal my secrets if there’s a chance you might not be the Griidlord of the future."

I said, "I thought my future was assured if I listened to you."

It said, "But you don’t always listen to me!"

I said, "Then I promise to listen to you, without question, if you just tell me what the hell you are."

The voice hesitated, stuttered even, then said, with more menace than I’d ever heard from it, "We can talk tomorrow after you win the suit."

I steeled myself then. What I was about to say would be difficult. I thought about the ecstasy of the suit, the perfection of existing sheathed in its power. I thought about a life that could stretch for centuries. Yes, part of me still wanted to please Father, if he were alive—if I could find him. But mostly, I thought about what I could do for me. Make me a living god in the city. Make me eternal.

I thought about visiting Lauren on her estate. I thought about presenting myself to Katya, glowing with the power of a Griidlord. For a fleeting second, I even thought about how I could have both of them. If I won enough Flows, if I proved myself enough, what woman wouldn't be willing to share me with another just to have a piece of that glory?

Then I ripped myself away from those thoughts, those fantasies, and said, "If you don't tell me, then I won't compete tomorrow."