The Quillan Games (8 page)

The dados looked from the guy to the woman, as if they weren't sure what to do. Finally one of them said to the other, “Come. We must continue the pursuit.” Without another word the two dados took off running after their quarry.

The excitement was over. The crowd started to move along again. I didn't. I kept my eye on the woman and the man. Something didn't feel right. What happened was an accident, sure, but it all seemed to happen a bit too perfectly. The woman on the bike hit the sidewalk at the exact right time to nail the dados. Was it intentional? Who knew? Maybe it was a total accident. But one thing definitely happened because of it. The guy the dados were chasing got away.

There was one other thing that made me think there was something more going on. It happened a moment before the crowd filled up the sidewalk once again. The woman got to her feet, brushed herself off, and looked to the older guy. I followed her gaze. The older guy was looking back at her. His anger seemed gone. That's when it happened. He reached up and clasped his hand over his left biceps. It was an odd move. I quickly shot a look back to the woman in time to see her do the exact same thing. Her expression didn't change; all she did was clasp her right hand over her left biceps. It was fast. By the time I looked back to the guy, he had been swallowed by the crowd.

I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what I had just seen. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but it
sure seemed as if these two people had given each other a silent signal. I couldn't begin to guess what it meant, but there was no question, the accident allowed the running guy to get away, and the older guy made sure the woman didn't get in trouble for it. It all happened so fast, the dados didn't know what hit them. I couldn't help but feel that I had witnessed something important.

I didn't have much time to think about it. There suddenly came a huge fanfare from the overhead screens. It was much more dramatic than anything I had heard up until then. It was an electronic trumpet tune that called everyone's attention to the screens. Everyone stopped and looked up at them. Literally. Everyone. All at the same time. This was way different from when the other announcements were made. The people barely paid attention to those. But not now. I felt an excited buzz travel through the crowd. People came alive. They exchanged looks. They chattered to one another. All the way up and down this crowded street, you could feel the electricity. Cars stopped, which wasn't that big a deal because they weren't going anywhere anyway, but the drivers got out of their vehicles to look up at the screens. Whatever was going to happen, they were excited about it. Thousands of people were suddenly all staring up, in anticipation of . . . what?

Naturally I looked up too. The screens were all blank for a few more seconds as the fanfare built. Finally, as the music reached a crescendo, a single word appeared in a shower of light and drama.

BLOK
.

There it was again. Blok. What the heck was it? The way it appeared on-screen with such a flourish, you'd think people would cheer, as if their favorite wrestling champion had just been announced. They didn't. They continued to look up
with anticipation, but there was no cheering. The inspirational music continued, and a man's voice was heard.

“The competition is about to begin,” the voice said, teasing the crowd. He sounded excited, almost giddy, as if this news were as exciting to him as he was trying to make it for the crowd. I guess it worked, because I could feel a buzz growing. The people of Quillan were getting psyched up. “We are in midquad, which can only mean one thing!”

Suddenly everyone in the crowd shouted out: “TATO!”

Yikes! The roar was deafening. They all shouted out the word and began to applaud and cheer. It was like the fuse had reached the dynamite and the crowd had exploded. Whatever “Tato” was, the crowd thought it was pretty good. The word
TATO
flashed on-screen, which made them cheer again. I couldn't imagine what was so incredibly great about this “Tato” thing that it could finally inject some life into this listless world.

The man's excited voice continued over the roar, louder, so it could be heard: “Place your bets, the time is near; the greatest games on Quillan are here!” He sang this out like a singsong children's rhyme. The people responded with a cheer and applause. I didn't. Rhymes. I had heard a rhyme recently. Where was that? Why did this give me an uneasy feeling? I couldn't remember.

On the screen the word
TATO
dissolved in a brilliant flash of orange. What was left was a close-up of the announcer. The guy had a big toothy smile. His hair was long and blond and totally wild like he had stuck his finger in a toaster. He was an older guy, in his forties maybe. Whatever age he was, he was way too old to be acting so crazy. He reminded me of one of those nutty guys in cheesy TV commercials who try to sell you kitchen stuff, or used cars. Or report the weather. His eyes were wild and always moving. Above all, he looked
like he was having a great time. The people responded.

“We are proud, so very proud, to bring you the greaaaaatest Tato match in history!” He was whipping the crowd into a frenzy. The shot on-screen widened out to include another person. A woman. She was as still and intense as the guy was animated and nutty. She stared out at the world with an unwavering glare. Her hair was dark and slicked back so severely, it almost looked like she was bald. Her features were sharp, like a fox's. Whoever she was, she meant business.

“The match will begin in moments,” she said clearly but with no emotion. “Wagering must be completed by the tone. Do not dally. If you plan to wager, the time is now.”

What an odd couple these two made. The hyperactive nutty guy who looked like he was auditioning for a kids' TV show, and the intense, glaring woman who was everybody's nightmare of a strict teacher. Who were these two?

The nutty guy gave me the answer. He sang out another rhyme that went, “The time is now; let's have some fun; we're ready for the show. Our games aren't tame; you know our names, your friends LaBerge and Veego.”

I remembered where I saw the rhyme.

LaBerge and Veego. Veego and LaBerge. These were the guys who sent me that odd rhyming invitation to come to Quillan. I pulled the thick paper out of my back pocket and read it one more time:

Riggedy riggedy white

Come and spend the night

We'll play some games

Some wild, some tame

Cause if you will, you might

Your hosts on Quillan,

Veego and LaBerge

More importantly, this invitation was in a box that was sent to me through the flume by Saint Dane. Somehow these two wack jobs on the video screen were tied in with the demon Traveler. I needed to know who they were, and what they were all about. My hunt for Saint Dane had officially begun.

Veego said, “LaBerge and I feel this will be an exciting, well-played Tato. Not since the famous match of twelve-oh-six have there been two competitors who are so closely matched.” (She pronounced LaBerge like la-bearj. It sounded French, but there was no such thing as “French” on Quillan. As far as I knew.)

“They are entering the Tato dome now!” LaBerge announced. “Last chance for betting. The action is about to begin!”

The screen flashed white. Veego and LaBerge disappeared and were replaced by an overhead shot of what looked to be a sports court of some kind. It was a big platform in the shape of an octagon, about fifteen yards across. There was a red logo in the center that said
TATO
in the familiar block letters. Or should I call them “blok” letters? I saw five black round domes spaced evenly in a circle on the floor of the court, near the edges. Each looked to be a couple of feet in diameter and about a foot high in the center—like shiny bumps on the floor. They appeared to be made out of dark glass. Finally, there were two squares across from each other that were nothing more than marks on the floor of the court. I guess it goes without saying that this didn't look like any kind of court I had ever seen.

“Announcing!” came LaBerge's voice. Music started to
build. The excitement was growing. “He is undefeated in six Tato matches and is looking to set the new, unheard-of record of seven straight wins. Citizens of Rune and all Quillan, we present to you, everyone's favorite . . . Challenger Green!”

The crowd cheered. A chant of “Green, Green, Green” went up from most of the people gathered on the street. I watched as the contestant stepped up onto the platform and stood in one of the squares. Challenger Green was a guy who looked about my age with long, wavy red hair that fell below his shoulders. He was a big light-skinned guy who looked very much like an athlete. But what I zeroed in on was his shirt. It was bright green with five diagonal black stripes . . . just like the red shirt I was wearing. Things were starting to come clear. The bald guy at the arcade had called me a “challenger.” He must have thought I was one of the guys who competed at this Tato thing.

It was not a realization that made me particularly happy.

What I saw next made me even less happy.

Veego announced, “Competing against Challenger Green is a newcomer. Though he has never entered the Tato dome, he has so impressed the judges that he has been fast-tracked into this very special match. If Challenger Green is to break the record, it will have to be against the most promising challenger to have ever stepped into the Tato dome. Introducing for the first time here in Rune or anywhere else on Quillan, today's worthy adversary . . . Challenger Yellow!”

Rune. What was Rune? Before I had the chance to think too much about it, the guy called “Challenger Yellow” stepped onto the octagon wearing, you guessed it, a yellow jersey with black diagonal stripes. I guess that meant I was Challenger Red. Lucky me. I wondered why exactly these challenger clothes were left for me at the flume. I would much rather have had something bland and inconspicuous, so that
I could blend into the territory. I made the decision to ditch this shirt and find some boring old Quillan clothes as soon as possible.

I could see why Challenger Yellow was considered to be a strong competitor. He was taller than Challenger Green by at least a head. He was dark skinned, though not as dark as if he were a Batu from Zadaa, like Loor. He moved gracefully, with little wasted movement. I guess “fluid” was the best way to describe him. He was thin, but not skinny. He definitely had some muscle, but with very little body fat. He looked like the kind of guy you'd see competing in the Olympic long jump or something. These two guys were very much opposites. One was tall and lanky, the other broad and strong. I had no idea which was better for this game called “Tato.”

While the two challengers limbered up on opposite sides of the octagon, the big screen showed them in close-up. First it was Challenger Green. He looked confident and relaxed. He didn't look even the slightest bit concerned about Challenger Yellow dethroning him. He was the champion and fully expected to remain so. I wondered if Challenger Yellow stood a chance. To be honest, I didn't care much either way. I had no idea what I was watching and had absolutely no stake in it. That is, until the big screen showed a close-up of Challenger Yellow. I stared up at the huge screen, not believing what I was seeing. I blinked. There had to be some mistake. It was impossible.

Challenger Yellow had his arms folded across his chest. He looked nervous. I could see it in his eyes. He stared at Challenger Green, watching his opponent carefully. I could only guess what was going through his mind, probably a lot of things, but it didn't seem like one of them was confidence. Challenger Green already had the edge in the mind game department. But that wasn't what shocked me. I looked down
the long city street at all the giant screens that projected the image of Challenger Yellow. I don't know why, but I kept looking at screen after screen, expecting to see something different. No,
hoping
to see something different. That was idiotic, because it was all the same image, shown again and again and again. There was no mistake. The image was big enough for me to make it out clearly.

Challenger Yellow wore a ring. It was heavy and silver with a gray stone in the center.

It was the ring of a Traveler.

(CONTINUED)

N
o mistake. It was a Traveler ring. I had found the Traveler from Quillan. Sort of. He was an athlete. A challenger. I needed to get to him, but knew nothing about this match or Veego and LaBerge or, well, anything else. I needed answers, but looking at these mesmerized people of Quillan wasn't going to do me any good. I turned to the guy next to me and asked, “Where is this match happening? Where is the Tato dome?”

The guy looked at me like I was nuts. I guess I must have sounded a little off, seeing as none of the other multiple thousand people were doing anything other than staring up at the screen. Or maybe it was just a dumb question because everybody knew where the Tato dome was. I didn't care if the guy thought I was loopy or not. I got right in his face and repeated with more force, “Where is this match happening?”

The guy took a step back. I scared him.

“In the garden,” he said with a frown. “Where else would it be?”

“What garden?” I shouted. “Where is this garden?”

The guy backed away from me like I was dangerous. Who knows? Maybe I was. I know for sure I was starting to panic. Throw in a little confusion for good measure. Never forget the confusion. I had found the Traveler from Quillan, my one and only ally here on this strange new territory. But I had no idea how to get to him. I looked up at the screen, trying to find any clue that would tell me where they were. It looked as if the octagon were surrounded by dense forest. Wherever this “garden” was, it definitely wasn't anywhere near this gray city. All I could see in every direction were tall, ugly skyscrapers. I decided that as soon as the match was over, I'd find somebody who could tell me where this garden was or, better yet, take me there. I had to smile. I wasn't going to be alone much longer. It was a good feeling . . .