The gentleman in a suit, top hat, and carrying a cane gave the crowd a perfectly proper bow.
The gentleman's attire was divided down the middle: black on the left, white on the right. His suit lining was a black-and-white checkered shirt, his tie was white on the left and black on the right, and his cane spiraled upward in black and white.
"Who the hell are you?!"
A sudden shriek rose from the crowd.
Dark glanced over and saw an elderly
Prophet who bore an uncanny resemblance to Gargamel.
The prophet had already squeezed into the inner circle and stood extremely close to the master of the Star Tower, clearly emboldened as she spoke.
The people around her were much the same, immediately growing noisy and rowdy, nothing like the mysterious Prophets people imagined. They were more like the thugs and hooligans found on any street.
But manners hardly mattered at a time like this.
Edgar Swift and the others merely watched coldly.
The black-and-white gentleman actually smiled. "Who I am is not important. However, you may call me A."
Another prophet asked on the spot, "Mr. A, where is this? How do we get out? Why did you bring us here?"
With a smile at the corner of his lips, Mr. A answered them one by one. "This is the Fate Chessboard, the Question-and-Answer Space. Every time you enter a square, you must answer a question. Your answers will determine your fate. As for how to leave this place, look."
As he spoke, he turned slightly and pointed behind him.
About thirty squares away, an oval-shaped portal suddenly lit up.
Mr. A smiled. "The exit is there. As long as you reach the square where the 'door' is located, you can leave this place. But if you answer