“I remember.”
“I specially rewatched the footage of that night from the cameras focused on your table. Back then, your neighbors were, to put it mildly, not particularly friendly to you. Hell, all four hundred contestants couldn’t wait to tear you apart. But what do I see now? You’re sitting… oh-ho-ho!” Octius looked to the camera and smiled widely, spreading his arms. “Do you see that? Who would have thought that one week later, Anna would be your ally and would be sitting on one side of you while Destiny Windsor sits on the other! We’ll come back to her later…” He chuckled. “Meister has become one of your most loyal comrades! Shemshur fell today in efforts to save you, — again as your ally! Of the four with whom you found yourself sitting on opening day, only one fought on the other side today, but Frankie was knocked out of the games, felled at your hands! Do you feel proud of yourself and the strategy you chose? Today showed it was the right one!”
“I’m angry at myself, Octius, not proud. I made mistakes that led to many of my allies being eliminated. I lost 80% of my people. There’s nothing to be proud of.”
“Yesterday you might have lost them all, Alex,” the gamesmaster argued. “And even today, you could have twice lost your people, and been eliminated yourself. But in the end, you made it. Believe me, you have reason to be proud!”
He clapped me on the shoulder and returned to the stage. I breathed out and sipped from a glass of non-alcoholic beer — I’d rather be ground down by a Living Sieve than be at the center of attention.
But the torture didn’t end there. Octius moved on to what he called the main sensation of the day:
“Alex Sheppard…” He paused. “And Destiny Windsor… Allies! Who could have predicted that? Truly, characters don’t just level up faster in the Games, apparently alliances change faster than this girl’s mood! Yesterday’s teammates become today’s deadly enemies while the fiercest foes create alliances…”
He flew over to our table, looked at Destiny and me, continued:
“We have reliable information that Miss Windsor visited Alex last night. The young duo spent quite a lot of time together, but as for what happened between them or what they talked about, that remains under the veil of mystery. Let’s ask if they would like to lift it for us!”
We refused, of course, although even our allies were shouting for us to tell them. To the sound of booing from the audience, along with insults from Marcus, Urkish and Messiah, Octius returned to the stage in disappointment.
“We traditionally round out the overview of the best moments of the day with the results of the viewers’ vote!” the gamesmaster declared. “The viewers have declared the best player of the day to be…”
I waited for him to call my name, then opened my eyes wide when Octius shouted:
“…Yu-uu-uu-lan! No doubt about it, our viewers were impressed by the spellcaster’s impressive maneuver to the enemy flank. She cut down half her enemies and then successfully escaped from Scyth and his immortal demon!”
Youlang sat surrounded by Marcus’s officers, and seemed to be the only one among them who wasn’t drunk. A thin middle-aged Asian woman with short faded hair, a fine line of thin lips and a frowning gaze from beneath her brows.
Commenting on her reward, she said:
“Those who think the Games are over are mistaken. They’re only just beginning!”
Catching my eye, she smiled widely and mouthed something silently. Something short, two or three words.
The viewers’ decision didn’t bother me. Whatever awesome reward she got, the level 16 spellcaster couldn’t go up against us. Tomorrow would be her last day at the Games.
In the absence of others, the worst player of the day was declared to be Bloomer, leaving him extremely unhappy. He took to writing an angry poem about ‘unworthy fools hungry for circuses.’
Midnight approached when Octius finally said goodbye to us, wishing all the eliminated a good time on their last night in the Games.
In the media center, I was immediately at the center of the journalists’ attention. They crowded round me, and Kerry had to organize a press conference in the biggest conference room.
There were so many questions that the interview took nearly two hours. My throat kept drying up, but I put up with it, knowing how important it was to explain the logic of what I’d done. All the same, I thought for a long time when Axel Donovan asked me directly:
“What’s between you and Destiny Windsor, Mr. Sheppard? Business in common or something… more romantic?”
“Do you like Miss Windsor, Mr. Donovan?” I asked the journalist.
“Uhm… To be honest, I’ve never looked at her that way before…” Axel said, at a loss. “But of course, Miss Windsor is renowned for her practically perfect beauty…”
“You’ve answered your own question,” I said, muddying the waters. I answered all further questions about Destiny and me the same way.
My conversation with Despot caused the most confusion. Little Peter Davis from Disgardium Daily, friend of Ian Mitchell, even voiced his own suspicions:
“We analyzed the live stream, and in the part where you take Hox to the cemetery, you’re clearly talking to Despot about something. The structure of the conversation and the involvement of the other contestants creates the impression that you understand what the demon is saying, as do the others, but all the viewers heard from Despot was ‘Groghghr!’”
“What’s the question, Mr. Davis?”
“Did you understand what Despot was saying?”
“Yeah, I learned demonic,” I joked.
But I made a mental note — Snowstorm wanted to hide my ally’s suddenly revealed talent of seeing into people’s souls. Only I didn’t
