Chapter 79

I turned to stare at the woods, oscillating between going in there to answer the unknowns and staying away from the madman with the relics. Suddenly, there was a soft touch on my shoulder. I spun around, my adrenaline kicking in, my body reacting to the surprise. I expected Harold, maybe a well-wisher. The face behind me was new. The man was new.

He was tall and slim. His form was largely obscured by the large black overcoat he wore. His face was deeply tanned. He wore a beard of strangely elaborate fashion that I wasn't familiar with. His eyes seemed to be darkened with eyeshadow.

"Hello, friend," I said.

"Hello, Tiberius," the man replied. "I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk with me."

I hesitated. What was I suddenly doing to draw strange lunatics to me? "I... I don't mean to be rude, I've had a long day," I said, nodding to the arena. "As I'm sure you know... I need to go home."

"Of course, no doubt. A trying day, filled with great success. I won't keep you from your rest. Perhaps I could walk with you as you return home."

I hesitated again. At least this way, I would be in public, in the presence of guards. I didn't know what it was about this man that made me feel threatened. He had an aura of unreality about him that left me vaguely queasy.

"Of course," I said, and he took a few steps toward the city gate. I followed. "So, ah, what can I do for you?"

"You've been doing well in the tournament, Tiberius. Many talk about your success. They say you have done things that were never done before. I could be wrong, but it very much seemed to me like you went from a level 2 CUT to a level 3 CUT in a startlingly short amount of time."

I was impressed. "You could tell that by watching?"

"I am familiar with the ways of the suit," he said.

I eyed him again. Only a few groups of people were truly familiar with the Griidsuits: the priests, of which I very much doubted this stranger was a member, and the Griidlords themselves. But this man bore no Griidsuit, and Griidlords ended their careers either with death, maiming, or the neurodegeneration of decades interfacing with the systems. This man seemed neither dead, maimed, nor degenerated, even if he did seem off.

"Were you in a Choosing once?" I asked.

The man nodded, smiling, his eyes distant. "Yes, I was, what seems like lifetimes ago."

We walked a little further. "Your growth in the suit is amongst the best I've ever seen."

I wondered if maybe he was a coach, a trainer. "Thank you. I've had my struggles, but I've been progressing, thank the Oracle. If I wasn't, I'd be finished already."

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"It looked to me like the other two standing against you would be out of the competition if they'd had to stand against you for much longer. That Lance boy is very good, but you were pressing him and the other one hard."

"Thank you," I said. I was growing accustomed to strangers praising me, criticizing me, remarking on the spectacle I was a part of.

"I wonder..." he began, drawing me in. "Yes?" I said, feeling a sudden and definite tension.

"I wonder... have you been hearing things while in the suit?"

My blood chilled. Not another one, not another weirdo who knew of the voice. "Wh-what do you mean?" Even as I said it, my reaction seemed to bring a satisfied smile to his lips.

"You have then. I knew you must."

I sighed. What was even the point in pretending? How many people knew about the voice? "How do you know about it?"

"I used to hear it as well."

My mind spun. He had been in a Choosing, and he had heard the voice, but clearly, he hadn't won. This unsettled me. I thought the voice came with a touch of destiny; it had become a pillar of my own self-belief. We passed under the arch of the gate and into the city. I had no anonymity any longer. There were cheers, and rare jeers, from the people we passed, but none came to interfere with me. I was part of the Choosing; there was a sacred component to that.

"So you can hear the voice, and it's been helping you. I'll bet it got excited when you started skipping increments while leveling," he said.

I nodded. "Yes, it practically lost its mind over it."

"The voice will like you, Tiberius. It's been looking for someone like you. It's been searching since the dawn of our history, and it's come close a few times, but we always seem to slip away from it before the end."

More inane riddle talk, another half-daft stranger. "What do you mean? I don't understand. What does it want exactly?"

"It wants to find someone who can connect with it completely, and in that, you are extremely rare but not unique. There have been others over the centuries that connected with the voice intimately and completely enough to serve its ultimate purpose, though the incredible extent of your affinity must have the thing shaking with eagerness."

I admitted, "Yeah, it does seem to be excited about me."

"If you win the suit, you will live with the voice, all day, every day, in your waking times, in your sleeping times, while you drink, while you fight, while you feast, while you make love. It will always be there. Not necessarily always talking, but you will never be alone, never be far from a comment or a suggestion."

I shuddered slightly. He went on, "The voice will guide you, help you grow faster than you possibly could without it. But you will also be an agent of its agenda, and that's why I've come to talk to you."

Something snapped in me at that. Who were these strangers, coming with their knowledge of the voice, oozing their own plans and schemes, coaxing me with their mysteries, with their answers? I was to be a Griidlord. In another day or two, with the help of destiny, I could be Sword of Boston, an eminent entity, a power onto myself. It was time to drop the boy face and talk like a man.

I stopped walking, and the stranger did too. I stared at him. I realized then that as much as he seemed tall and imposing, we were on one level with each other. I was easily as broad and strong as he was. What reason did I have to fear anyone?

"What could you possibly know about what the voice wants? What interest do you really have in me? For Oracle's sake, who the hell are you anyway?" I demanded.

The man did not seem taken aback. He casually looked down and away, as if thinking for a few beats, then looked back at me, meeting my gaze. Oh, there was madness there alright, but a deep cleverness too, and a serenity that I couldn't explain. The bearded face melted into a gentle smile, and he said, "I'm sorry, I failed to introduce myself. My name is Danefer."

My stomach tightened. No, it couldn't be.

"I am Danefer Ma'at-Ra."