Chapter 57

I woke up feeling vaguely groggy. I was not familiar with this feeling of fuzziness. Father, in his better moods, would let me share a drink with him. But the man measured my pleasures meanly. He would never let me indulge enough to affect my next day's training. He policed my sleeping patterns religiously.

Waking that morning, with my head feeling vaguely sore, and my mouth strangely dry, I was grateful that there was no contest that day. I was disoriented for a moment. The light was too bright through the window. It was much later in the day than I was used to waking.

I sat up in the large, canopied bed. The events of the night played back in my mind. Snapshots passed through my mind. Lauren's smile, broad and unrestrained. Katya's light but devious laughter. I blushed as I recalled Katya's rude jokes. I blushed deeper as a memory came to me of my hand resting on Lauren's leg, her expression completely unobjecting to the gesture.

For all the desires that ran through me, it was the closeness of the memories that filled my heart. I had no friends. There had been no room for friends in my life.

A memory surfaced. A memory of a time when my limbs had been much shorter, but before they had started to fail me. I could other children running in front of me. Their clothes were dirty and tattered but their faces were bright with laughter. I was running after them, my bare feet tramping the dirt of the street. Their faces were known to me, familiar, but the names were long lost. I had fallen. Another boy had picked me up. His face was right there in my memory, just for a moment. He had a hare lip. But I barely noticed it. I saw his eyes, the way they looked down at me with real concern.

Those times were long gone now.

I dressed quickly. As I tied my shirt my wrist reminded me of what it had suffered on the day before. The stiffness troubled me. It hurt sharply when I tried to flex it.

A few hours later, I found myself in a hospital that only lords and the richest merchants could afford. It was a house of miracles that were denied to the common folk. There were machines there that could see inside the body without piercing the skin, devices that could keep a body breathing and a heart beating even when the brain that it housed was long deceased.

I was subjected to treatment by a strange piece of equipment. A priest, not a doctor, was the one who managed the item. It must have been a truly rare relic from the time before if one of the priests insisted on its operation. Strange vibrations and warmth spread through my injury as I sat there for an hour. When the treatment was completed the injury was much improved, if not completely healed.

As I sat there, a medic approached. A younger man, his face tired, but kind.

He said, "You'll still have pain after the treatment. Not so bad, not nearly, but it's going to hurt. And it will be weaker for a while."

I nodded, distracted by the sensations of the machine.

The medic held up a vial of pills. He said, "These will help though, I don't know how they'll affect your performance in the arena, but-"

I shook my head, interrupting him. I smiled, thanking him for the thought. I said, "I can't. My trainers warned me against drugs that dull the senses. The suit is directed by my nervous system. Alcohol and other drugs that dull consciousness, are bad. Things that dull the central parts of the nervous system are bad. But painkillers that block nerves from working... There are horror stories of how the connection with the suit has failed Griidlords taking medicines like that."

The medic seemed uncertain. He said, "You'll have substantial pain though. Why don't you take these with you, you can always choose not to take them."

I shook my head, again smiling gratefully for his attention. "No. Thank you, but no. I'll take the pain now. The rewards are just... too great.

It was hard to experience that miracle knowing that there were children in the outer parts of the city dying from common illnesses.

Harold was distracted when I returned home. I found him in the den, leaning over a table with his head hanging. When he heard me enter, he suddenly straightened. There was a moment of awkwardness between us. I understood that it was kindest to pretend I had seen none of it than to inquire about him. But I couldn't suppress my curiosity, my concern, as he spoke.

"Good morning, young master," Harold said. His voice betrayed none of the heavy emotions I had seen weighing on him a moment before.

"Morning, Harold," I said. "Has my father returned from Dodge yet?"

Harold's eyes wavered, just for a moment. The pause might have meant nothing, but it prodded my concerns. "Not yet, Master Tiberius. He is still attending to business matters."

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I frowned. I didn't want to embarrass him. Harold was truly dear to me. He had shown me more affection over the years than my own sire had. But I couldn't stop myself. I said, "You seem worried, Harold. Is everything alright?"

Harold hesitated. His perfect composure faltered briefly. Then he repainted the mask of professionalism on his face. He said, "It's nothing to trouble yourself with, young master. Your father is a capable man. He knows how to handle himself."

I studied his face.

"If there's something I should know, Harold, please tell me."

He sighed. I wondered if it relieved him a little to say more.

"There have been some... concerning reports from the areas your father is visiting. The Horde's activity has increased. But your father has taken ample precautions. He is guarded by a small army of the best. He carries his own relics."

The relics that exceeded the budgets of even wealthy lords were available to Father. The man had absolutely no skill with a weapon, but he armored himself with ancient treasures that would make him almost impervious save in the most desperate situations. I too, carried some relics on my person. They were concealed. A pendant that hung beneath my shirt. A belt buckle that had been modified to look plain and normal. The sword I carried at my waist. It was better to conceal the items rather than draw the greedy eyes of those would try to take them from me. But, between my relics, and Zeb, I had little to fear from mugger or assassin.

Of course, during the contests, Zeb held my relics for me. They were not permitted in the arena. The advantage they would bestow on their user would be a capital violation of the sacred rite.

I felt a pang of worry. "And you're sure he's safe?"

Harold nodded, though his eyes betrayed his uncertainty. "As sure as one can be in these times. Your father is not one to take unnecessary risks."

Before I could press further, Harold cleared his throat and changed the subject. "There was a message for you, Master Tiberius. From Lord Baltizar. He requests your presence in the tower foyer immediately."

I straightened, the name snapping me out of my concern. "Baltizar? Did he say what it was about?"

Harold shook his head. "No details were provided, only that it is urgent."

I nodded. There was a pause as I considered Harold's veiled concerns about Father. I wanted to say more, ask more.

In the end, I just said, "Thank you, Harold. I'll head there right away."

As I made my way to the tower, my mind raced with possibilities. Baltizar's summons could mean any number of things, and in the volatile environment of The Choosing, every moment was fraught with potential danger and opportunity.

The Tower was not far uphill from my Father's house. The wealthier the household, the closer it seemed to stand to the tower.

I moved with the crowd of people that flowed in and out of the titanic structure. The guards checked everyone. Too many people wanted access to the tower. Too many people wanted access to the power of the people who dwelt there. But my name wasn't even required. My face was known to the guards from the viewscreens they watched in their private hours. I was expected and I continued inside.

The foyer was busier than usual. It was thronged with bodies. Foreign garbs and accents crowded my senses. Important persons from far and wide had come to enjoy The Choosing, and they wasted no chance to conduct their business while they visited the city.

Then I saw him. Magneblade stalked across the room towards an elevator. He moved with the same restrained rage as I had seen before. It was easy to see the contempt he held for the milling politicians and bureaucrats. They parted before his armored form. As he passed by, he paused for a moment and noticed me. He saluted. He saluted me. This man, this living God, had taken the time to recognize me.

I was lost in that moment when suddenly Baltizar was standing alongside me.

Baltizar said, "My boy, I'm glad my message found you. I couldn't be sure where you would be on a day off to spend training."

I replied, "Less training than I might have, my lord. I needed to attend to my injuries."

I waited, unsure of how to ask him what his message was about. He saw my uncertainty and said, "You're wondering why I summoned you here? You should probably have guessed."

He spoke low, "I want to give you a tip-off about tomorrow's competition."

As he spoke, an aide dashed up and took his attention. He spoke with the man, annoyed at the distraction, then turned to me, "Why don't you wait in the gardens for a minute? I'll need a moment here."

As he walked off, I started to cross the foyer to the door to the gardens. Suddenly, the voice was in my ear, startling me but not exactly surprising me. Whatever it was, it was real. I couldn't be going mad; the voice had given me information, like demanding the Oracle be consulted when the bishop was trying to have me ejected, knowledge that couldn't have come from my subconscious, it was knowledge I'd never owned.

The voice said, "We're getting close, Tiberius, can you smell it?"

I thought back to the voice, I need to take every round as it comes. But the voice didn't respond. I whispered as I walked, "I need to take every round as it comes."

The voice answered, "Oh yes, of course, of course. You had your wrist healed, how does it feel now? It was a nasty blow. The suit will compensate for a lot of that, but all the same, a little injury like that can get in the way, impede you."

I said, whispering since there were people about, "It's good now. Besides, it's my left hand, my sword hand is fine. I don't see how it can matter all that much."

I paused in the doorway to the gardens and said, "How come I can only hear you when I'm either wearing the suit or spending time in The Tower?"

The voice giggled, "Those aren't the only times, but... that's very observant of you..."

I was frustrated that the comment didn't actually include an explanation. I was about to ask something more when Baltizar came striding towards me. He said, "Come, let's take a little walk around the garden."