The time until my return to the Griid-trains was burning away quickly. The week of respire was little enough, all considered. I knew that the return to work would carry nothing like the franticness of the last months. I would have scheduled time off, plenty of it. Griidlords had long negotiated comfortable working conditions with their cities. But the week was precious to me, and I was aware of how quickly it was boiling away to vapor.

It was interesting to just stand in the hall of the tower and see how people reacted to me. No knight spat at my feet. The servants and diplomats and administrators largely averted their eyes. Some paused to salute me. Some passed a comment of gratitude or cheer for what the Flows I had won would mean to the city.

It was heartening and deflating at once. What young man wouldn't enjoy the respect, the adulation, even the fear of the populace? It made me feel powerful, important, successful. But it was also isolating. They saw me as apart from them. I supposed I was apart from them. I wielded the strength of a dozen men, perhaps more. I had the power of a god. I had the unsettling awareness—though not the full comprehension—of the idea that I would live for generations after any of them had grown old and died.

I didn't mind the smiles and glances of the young, pretty maidens. A Griidlord was a fine catch to make. Even for those who had no hope of wedding one, a Griidlord would make a fine conquest. As I watched them saunter past me, I felt like I wouldn't mind being their conquest.

But I was distracted. I was utterly distracted by what Harold had said. My mother had been a Montagnion. What did that mean? Was she his cousin? A grand-niece? It had been a century since he left the suit behind him, so I felt it safe enough to assume that she hadn't been his daughter. I shuddered at the thought of it. His blood ran in my veins. It was madness to consider.

I also labored under the guilt I had felt. I had used my old friend. I had plied him with alcohol and hurt him deeply—for what? I had turned what could have been a memorable night of drinking and sharing into a violation. All to satisfy my curiosity.

The guilt was terribly real. I had hurt him—I had seen that. But the curiosity was just as real, and irrepressible.

Down the hall I heard the door slide open. It was why I was here.

Balthazar swept through the opening, himself a being of not-quite-human power. Two knights flanked him, knights of the finest appointment. They bore power weapons and armor, possibly relics even, that would make them no small consideration—even to a Griidlord such as myself.

I smiled for a moment. To any member of the citizenry, these two men were indomitable. To me, they were considerations.

Balthazar saw me and deigned to offer one of his reptilian smiles. It was an expression he couldn't seem to master. I wondered at the success he had made in politics without ever truly mastering the art of that performance.

I smiled in return, and he paused by me on his way down the hall.

"Lord Bloodsword, I would have a word if you could spare the moment."

I smiled innocently. He knew well enough that I could spare the moment. He knew why I was here.

"Of course, Lord Supreme."

He stepped closer to me, the two knights standing back. He adopted a casual ease that was not natural to him. I envisioned this man sleeping standing up. Standing up and clenching. There was no ease to him.

He said, "Regarding Olaf—he needs some guidance."

I said, "I'm sure he does. He's a natural, everyone says it, but it wasn't long ago that he was without a suit. I keep thinking my own journey has been a whirlwind, but Olaf went from citizen to Griidlord to Falling in a matter of days!"

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Balthazar nodded. "Exactly. He needs someone to guide him, as Chowwick did for you."

I started to realize he was going somewhere with this. I said, "Chowwick was a great mentor… he would have been a great mentor for Olaf. Perhaps Magne—"

He cut me off. "Magneblade is attending to duties I have for him. Besides, can you imagine the kind of guidance one would receive from him?"

Balthazar chuckled. It was genuine. I couldn't help but laugh in sympathy. One thought of the battle-obsessed, competitive freak that was Magneblade left me with no lack of understanding.

I said, "Tara possesses every trait of human kindness that Magneblade lacks."

His eyes darkened slightly. I was confused by the expression. He said, "I see no reason… I think we can find a better match for him than Tara."

I was left bewildered. Alya would guide trains on occasion. During peacetime, she was at little risk. Vulnerable as her Scepter suit might be to other Griidlords, there were no brigands in all the lands that could pose a real threat to her. But I felt he didn't mean Alya.

I said, "No… he's my peer. We were in the Choosing together. I can't train him. I still need training!"

Balthazar said, "What level are you?"

I said, "I… ahm… thirty-three."

He said, "That's a level many Griidlords spend a lifetime trying to achieve. Few—precious, damn few—arrive at that level without decades of work. How could you not be an asset to him? Besides, you're friends. Would you not be excited to travel and camp with him for a few days or weeks while you show him the ropes? While you hunt fiends together? Jacob will adjust your assignments so you both find worthy prey suitable to your standings. You could gain some levels yourself."

I stammered a little. "But… I…"

Balthazar reached out and took hold of my shoulder. "You don't think you're worthy of being responsible for training another Griidlord. But you're wrong. You're more than ready. You're a rare prodigy. Take this chance to deepen your bond with your Shield. Sword and Shield should be close, Tiberius. You should make sure he's ready. Your life will be in his hands when you take the field again."

I said, "Why… why can't Magneblade do it?"

Balthazar paused. He was considering something—I could see it. He glanced around, assessing our odds of being overheard.

He said, "There are things we must yet speak of, Tiberius. Do you know of the Children of the Fountain? Or the Cult of Aos? Magneblade has missions I need him to perform…"

I felt some resonance with the names. Had Chowwick told me something of them?

I hesitated.

His voice sunk lower, to a bare whisper. "There are forces at work, Tiberius. There is more to what I want to achieve as Lord Supreme than simply improving the fate of Boston. There are forces…"

He straightened, as if realizing he had been surrendering to a temptation—an urge to speak that was entirely unlike him. More loudly, he said, "We must walk in the gardens together sometime, Lord Bloodsword. We must make an appointment of it."

Then more directly, he said, "You would serve the city well by taking Olaf with you. Can I count on you for this?"

I shrugged. I had no objection to taking Olaf with me. If anything, the prospect excited me. I had never had a friend my age. I felt a kinship with Olaf. I respected him. In some ways, he humbled me—his purity, his honor. I just didn't feel qualified. I was starting to feel a need to let Baltizar know I wouldn't just move to his pulls on me strings. I'd shown resistance, but this wasn't a fight I needed to, or wanted to win. That strange fire was puzzling me.

In the end I nodded, and Balthazar departed with his venerable knights.

And I was left in the corridor alone, my true purpose for being here laid before me.

I proceeded down the hall to the door Balthazar had exited.

Balthazar had been meeting with an agent of his. And I wanted some time with the man myself.

I stopped before the door. I could feel some strange moment hanging over me as I looked at the closed sliding panels. For some reason, my heart was beating ever so slightly more quickly.

Was I anticipating meeting him again, after these long months? Greeting him as a Griidlord? Or was it the task I had for him that made me nervous?

I took a breath and stepped forward. The doors slid open with that faint, perfect hiss, baring the room beyond to me.

It was nothing but a minor conference room. A long table, lined with chairs, big enough for a dozen people, stood in the center of the room. There was little space beyond that. Room in the tower was desperately precious, and space wasn't wasted.

At the end of the table a hulking figure sat, draped in his cloak and somehow almost invisible where he sat.

But his head came up as I stepped in. Something almost akin to a smile swept across his face at the sight of me.

"Ti!" he said.

I looked back at him. The greeting was as word-laden a statement as I had expected.

I said, "Hello, Zeb."

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