“It was your Synergy skill.”

  Jacob’s words barely pierced my distracted haze. He had been waiting for me when we returned with the army. I had too many thoughts pulling at the corners of my mind to focus. The letter from Racquel remained unopened. Plans for assaulting the locked Orb consumed me. I wanted that Orb more for Chowwick’s legacy than for the Flows or glory it represented. He had died to ensure we gained the key fragments needed to open it. I needed his death to mean something.

  Somewhere, I became aware of what he had said. I returned my attention to the old priest. “What?”

  We were sitting in the Tower Garden. Some great excitement had driven the ancient being to leave the Tower and meet us at the gate, but once he had me in his grasp, he had hurried back to the Order Field of the Tower that had preserved him so unnaturally.

  Jacob rasped, “Magneblade. I spoke to him while he was in his pod. I was astonished—astonished, let me tell you—to hear that young Olaf had a skill! He’s not in the suit a wet week and he has a skill. Tiberius, do you understand what that means?”

  Wearily, I said, “That means he’s level—”

  Jacob spoke over me. “It means he’s level 10. At first, I’ll admit, the thought crossed my mind that the boy was another savant, like your esteemed self. It might sound outrageously ridiculous to consider such a statistically unlikely anomaly occurring—two such rare beings—but it was a reasonable explanation. It made me consider that perhaps there is some change happening in the Griid, that you might not be so much an anomaly but rather the first of a new generation of rapidly progressing Griidlords. But my excitement got the better of me, and the simpler explanation revealed itself to me.”

  He stopped talking, smiling vacantly as he stared across the verdant grounds that sprawled around us. I waited, expecting him to continue. The old man just continued to gaze serenely, suddenly satisfied.

  After another few moments, I said, “And that would be…?”

  My voice seemed to startle him, interrupting his little reverie. His ancient eyes snapped to me, and he seemed almost surprised, almost confused, to find me sitting there. Then he nodded in quick understanding. “Oh? What? It’s what I just told you. Don’t you listen? You have to get better at listening. I can’t have that much time left on this earth, and I need to impart what wisdom I can to you, and that’s not going to happen if you don’t listen.”

  Quietly, with more reverence than I felt, I said, “What was the simpler explanation you came to?”

  “What? Oh, that? I thought we were finished with that. Your Synergy skill, Tiberius. Your Synergy skill. Olaf amassed a staggering amount of experience in the tournament in Houston. He spent more time wearing and fighting in the suit than I have ever considered an unchosen might experience. I can’t guess what level he would have been at, but it would be reasonable to consider that he may have gained several. Could he have gained ten levels? Certainly not. I know, I know, you’ll say that he spent so much time fighting and wearing that surely that’s a possibility, but it just isn’t so.

  “You must remember, Tiberius, that the progression a Griidlord experiences as they gain victories is directly tied to the quality of their opponents. In Houston, Olaf would have been battling other babes, few of them as skilled as himself even. The experience that could have been garnered from each victory was probably surprisingly low.”

  I said, “So my Synergy? I don’t understand. It gave him several levels of a boost? It didn’t do that for the others. It might have pushed them on a level—a level they had probably acquired most of the experience for already.”

  Jacob shook his head, almost seeming angry at what he considered my lack of understanding. “No, no, no. You don’t understand. The value of Synergy is not that it made them go up a level. They’re all veterans—veterans at or near their ceilings. Your Synergy skill will allow them to grow faster and exceed those restrictions that they’ve been bumping up against. The value of Synergy is not the level that they might have gained, but the levels to come.”

  I sighed heavily, working to keep the frustration from my voice. I said, “That… Jacob, that still doesn’t explain how Olaf jumped, what, five levels?”

  “Mmm, at least. At least five, I would say. Though maybe not. Could he have been level six? We can’t rule it out.”

  I gritted my teeth. “And how did he gain the extra levels so suddenly?”

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  Jacob said, “Oh, we can’t know, my boy. We can’t know.”

  I said, “But you said you knew.”

  Jacob recoiled from me, his face horrified. “I said no such thing! I wouldn’t dare to make assumptions such as that. Don’t confuse the assumption of fact with a hypothesis.”

  Nearly ready to give up my line of questioning, I said, “And what exactly is your hypothesis?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Olaf was accumulating experience in the suit, but the boy was unchosen. The suit couldn’t vest him with new levels if he was unchosen. So the experience accumulated as he fought. He was in a full suit in the tourney in Houston, not the half-suit you wore in your own Choosing. The full suit allowed for more complete accrual of experience, but it wasn’t until he was Chosen—a matter we must discuss further, because the manner of his choosing is something I can’t say I’m comfortable with—that the experience accrued into levels that were awarded to him.

  “But, when he was Chosen for the suit, his Sword had the Synergy skill. It multiplied the experience he had accrued, as it will for all future experience your teammates acquire. The Synergy skill pushed his initial level to at least 10, awarding him a skill.”

  I felt dazed at the experience. My voice breathed, “Saving Magneblade.”

  Jacob nodded happily. “Indeed, most fortuitous.”

  We watched a butterfly as it drifted between plantings. It was discordant. From this perch on the rise that bore the Tower, the landscape beyond Boston was clear to see—a stark land of snow and cold. The roofs of the houses on the slope below us bore the weight of winter, ice shining and snow resting everywhere. Yet here, there was nothing but greenness and light. It was bizarre. It was uglier than one might imagine.

  After a moment, I said, “You don’t approve of the manner Olaf was chosen.”

  He shook his head, slowly but quite ardently. “No, most certainly not.”

  I said, “I’m confused. I thought the priesthood was bound to perform Choosings and rituals based on the charter of the city. If the charter is changed, why would the priesthood care? I’m not arguing with you, Jacob, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t understand.”

  Jacob said, “Don’t paint me with the same brush as the rest of my brothers. It’s a mixed bag in the ranks. Some are like me, sad to see old traditions go and worried about what the transition might mean. But there are others, like Ra, who are excited by the change. This new procedure of direct selection creates room for maneuver. It will allow players like Ra to exert influence on future Griidlords.”

  I said, “And it’s the tradition that saddens you?”

  I didn’t say that I felt no sadness at the loss of the tradition. I harbored no fondness for my memories of The Choosing. It had been a brutal ordeal. It had been an ordeal that could have killed or crippled us. It drove more divisions than it healed. It was terribly illogical—there was too much randomness, too many resources wasted. It did little to level the playing field. The potential contenders were not selected on merit as it stood, so why not just skip to the end?

  Jacob said, “A lad like you, born common, will never have another chance to take up the mantle of Griidlord.”

  I said, “I don’t know if that’s true. Balthazar will wield the greatest influence over future Griidlords. I think merit will count more with him than blood. And I think he will pick common folk on occasion to appease the masses.”

  Jacob’s lips thinned. “Don’t be so sure of that. The lands are not infinite. The city cannot afford to keep raising common folk to the status of lord. And there’s more to contemplate than that. It is the very nature of the change that worries me.”

  I said, “How?”

  He said, “Balthazar wields so much power now. I don’t know if any man has ever held so much sway in his own right since the founding of the city. He chose you, he advocated for and fought for you. You have delivered the greatest Falling in living memory. His cache has grown. The common folk love him for helping raise one of their own to the status of Griidlord. The nobles will love him as long as he keeps bringing them Flows, wealth, and glory. His will and decisions will be unassailable.”

  I said, “Would that be such a bad thing? The city has floundered. So much is wrong in the world, Jacob. The Falling itself is a waste of life and resources. I’ve killed so many people to steal Flows for our city just to impoverish another. The people of Boston have suffered for so long. Would it be so terrible to change things?”

  Jacob sighed. There was an odd lingering sadness to him. It might have been something almost like reluctant defeat. He said, “Do you know your histories, Tiberius?”

  I said, “Pretty well. I read a lot. Especially when I was younger.”

  He said, “Do you know much of the Before?”

  I said, “Before the Fall?”

  He nodded.

  I said, “As much as one can. So much of it is clouded—myths and legends mixed up with facts.”

  He said, “History is laden with societies handing power over to strong men that can make things better. Societies, tired of governments that failed them, giving control to powerful personalities who make strong decisions, daring decisive actions. People always seem to want change, no matter how comfortable they are.

  “I shouldn’t care. I’m bound to the priesthood, not the city. But I’ve been here a long time. It saddens me.”

  I said, “Balthazar won’t make himself a tyrant.”

  He said, “Rome said that. Germany said that. America even never dreamed she would follow suit. History, Tiberius, is rich in men who took power to help the lesser men—and bereft of those who were willing to hand that power back.”