Chapter 59

Baltizar said, "They keep trying to knock you down, Tiberius, but they've failed every step of the way. I think you should reflect on that when you feel the stress and worries of this whole event bearing down on you. No matter the odds so far, you've always triumphed, always made it through, no matter the challenge."

I looked aside, taking in a glimpse of a bird smacking a snail against a rock under the shade of a topiary. The snail cracked open, the bird's persistence rewarded. The intricate shapes of the topiary cast shadows over the meticulously maintained pathway.

I said, "Should that really give me confidence though? Each time they fail, they just come back stronger, finding a new angle. This isn't exactly an even field. I have to keep beating them, surviving, getting through. They just need to knock me out once, and it's all over."

Baltizar said, "Tiberius, can you imagine the political capital I have to spend to support you? The people might love their commoner champion, but the nobles and bureaucrats I'm dealing with, they have no such adoration for you. You are the most politically expensive of any of the candidates for me to support, and yet I do it. Do you know why?"

My mouth worked, but no words came out.

He said, "I've told you before, I don't want to be Lord Supreme for the honor of the role. I want my term in this office to be something spectacular, enough to force those other bastards to elect me back to it, time and again. Boston has been a periphery of the world for too long. We need to stake our claim, win Flows for the people, plant our flag as one of the premier powers in the world. And I believe that if you become the Sword of Boston, then we have a chance to have one of the true greats in our ranks.

"Any of the young people who remain—Lance, Katya, Lauren, Gideon—any of them could make a good Griidlord. They all have the potential to fill the role, some of them to even be better than average. But you, Tiberius, you're a case of big or bust. You're intangible, different. I'm throwing my lot in with you despite all the expense. You just need to have a fraction of that belief in yourself."

I felt a surge of mixed emotions: the weight of his words, the pressure of expectations, and a spark of hope. If Baltizar, the Lord Supreme, believed in me, maybe there was a chance.

I looked at him. I was aware I was dealing with a political animal. Nobody rose to the rank of Lord Supreme without being terribly good at playing the games, at saying the right things, and being charismatic and probably a little psychopathic. The face that looked at me seemed sincere, though. I wondered how good he might be at painting an expression like that on himself and finding those perfect words to provoke the perfect response. But as I looked at him, I might have believed. I definitely wanted to believe in his faith in me.

Baltizar glanced aside; another aide was standing at the door of the tower. He said, "My time is up. Once again, the duties of management beckon. Let yourself out the side gate and seize your day. The competition resumes tomorrow. Don’t waste the chance now that you know what tomorrow will bring. The guards know who you are; they won't bother you as you go."

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I watched Baltizar's back disappearing down the path. I waited for him to be gone, then turned to look back at the red flowers. I visited the fragment of memory that had come back to me. Why was mother crying? Why was she dressed so poorly and he so finely?

AGILITY would be needed for the Tower. But I had none. Would there be time to grow it during the contest? Could I use Katya's meditations to find a way to tap into it before I even entered the arena? I wondered. What a trick that would be.

I made my way through the town, out the main gate, toward the arena. The fields beyond the city were dotted with groves of trees. This was bad practice for a fortified town—trees like that were cover for attackers, a place to muster forces, prepare siege equipment. But in the event of a siege, there would be warning, and these stands of trees and small woods could be torched, or blasted away by The Scepter, in very short order. The very fact that they grew here said a lot about the state of Boston, and a lot about how warfare worked in a time of Towers.

Smaller settlements warred, sieged, fell, and burned. But a city with a Tower was different; it had control of the Order around it, so defenders could use cannons, rifles, and artillery, while the attackers could be left with nothing to deploy save for trebuchets and arrows. It meant that besieging a City with a Tower was an exceptionally rare event. This led to a certain kind of complacency, with small forested areas sprouting up, perhaps tended as a resource for those who wanted to nurture lumber or charcoal. For now, the trees called to me—a place like the garden around the tower, peaceful, serene, private, a place where I could possibly stretch my meditation muscles and try to gain that advantage Baltizar had urged.

I entered the shelter of the trees. For once I managed to catch the shadow of Zeb as he moved ahead of me. He would be compelled to search the cover around me. Zeb saw assassins everywhere, in every face, in every figure I ever met. I can't say they bothered him. But few were above the suspicions of my bodyguard.

The air was cooler here. The air was wetter and richer. And I was alone. I was completely alone, in a setting of perfect privacy. Well, except for Zeb. But his presence was like my own shadow's at this point.

How often was I ever truly alone like this, with my own thoughts?

I didn't sit cross-legged as Katya had shown me. I wanted to feel my body as I sank into the state of mindlessness she had shown me, opening myself to the suit, to the memory of it. My AGILITY was a 0.4. Could I find a way to raise it?

I gave myself over to the act. My mind melted away. It was surprising how quickly I could do this, with so little instruction. Soon I was in the suit. It's hard to write about or recall the experience. My conscious mind faded from existence while I was in this state, it leaves me with little I can actually relate.

I had some vague awareness of the angle of the sun changing, the dappled shadows changing.

Then Zeb's voice pierced by concentration. He hissed at me, "Tiberius!"

The sound was urgent. Very urgent, very serious. What on this earth could alarm Zeb so?

I opened my eyes and gaped.

In the clearing, before me, stood another man. His body was covered in a long flowing cape that cascaded over his body. But through the opening, I could see weapons. And not just weapons. He carried power weapons and relics. I could see the grips of two different pistols jutting from his belt. Strange-looking guns that barely resembled their name. There was so much gear there that it dazzled me.

Even with all the wealth I had grown up around, it seemed impossible for a single man to carry such a fortune. A man like this would be titan. A man like this would make even Zeb seem like nothing more than a brief nuisance. Armed as he was, this stranger could maybe rival a Griidlord.

And this strange figure, armed with a terrifying array of exotic powers, was focused intently on me.