The Quillan Games (25 page)

Mr. Pop. Who was he? To the challengers he was obviously some kind of hero. Was he a challenger himself? No, that couldn't be, because he wasn't here, he was out in the city somewhere, hidden. The people who rescued me from the police dados were trying to protect him. The idea that I might have led the dados to Mr. Pop's secret hiding place was horrifying to them. Whoever he was, he was being protected by people who weren't on the same side as the dados, which meant they weren't on the same side as Veego and LaBerge and this mysterious Blok that was run by a group of trustees. Confused? Yeah, me too. I really hoped that Nevva Winter would clear things up . . . right after she cleared up who the heck she was. Sheesh.

As I stood there watching the fun, the party began to make sense. These guys were under a death sentence. None of them knew how much longer they'd be around. My guess was that they needed to relieve some of the stress and enjoy what little time they had left. It felt like a victory party. Maybe they were rejoicing in the fact that three challengers made it back alive from the Tock game. Four if you counted me. On the other hand, there wasn't a whole lot of grieving going on because a challenger
had
just died. Challenger Yellow. Remudi. Maybe it was because he wasn't around long enough for anybody to get to know him. Or maybe it was because they were so used to death, grieving wasn't a part of the equation.

Veego and LaBerge said the challengers were treated like royalty. Judging from this party, they definitely were given the chance to have some fun. These guys were taking advantage of every second of life they had, for none of them knew how long they had left.

I wasn't in the mood for partying. I had other business. I was about to move on, when something caught my eye. A lone challenger sat at the table. He wasn't dancing, he wasn't laughing or telling stories. He sat alone at the end of the table . . . looking at me. He was the only one in the room who even knew I was there.

I caught my breath. Why did I know this guy? It took only a second to remember. Challenger Green. The champion. The record breaker. The guy who killed Remudi. Challenger Green stared at me and lifted his goblet, as if in a toast for my eyes only. In that moment it all came clear to me. I was being set up. Whatever the Grand X was, if it was as big a deal as they said it was, it would have to involve their champion. Challenger Green. If I was going to be part of it, it meant I would be competing against this guy. He was the all-time doo-da big cheese that nobody could beat. How could I possibly stand a chance against him?

I guess I should have been scared, but you know what? I wasn't. Just the opposite. The realization actually gave me a feeling of hope. I was going to go up against the guy who killed a Traveler. I would get the chance to avenge his death. I gave the guy a small salute. He drank from his goblet, and I continued on. I knew we would be seeing each other again.

As I made my way cautiously down toward the courtyard, I found that the castle was strangely empty. Once I left the blowout challenger party, everything became eerily quiet. I wondered where Veego and LaBerge lived, but wasn't curious enough to try to find out. It was tough enough finding my
way through the dozens of twisted corridors and intersections to make it down to the courtyard. It was slow going, because I didn't want to risk being caught. Finding Nevva was too important. So I kept to the shadows and tried to be quiet.

Finally, after twenty minutes of wrong turns and dead ends, I found a side door that led outside to the courtyard. The next part was tricky. I got my bearings by looking out on the wide space and finding the front door, where I had first entered the castle. Looking directly across from that door, I saw a wide archway that seemed to lead into a small garden. According to Fourteen that was the octagon. The trick was to get across the wide open space without being seen. I stayed along one wall, moving quickly, holding my breath. I'm not sure why I held my breath. It didn't make me invisible. It just seemed like the thing to do. Thirty seconds later I ducked through the archway and into the octagon.

It was a pretty garden that was ringed by, you guessed it, an eight-sided wall. Three of the sections were the outer walls of the castle. The other five were built out from the castle and rose up too high to think about climbing over. It was maybe thirty yards across in all directions . . . big enough to hide in the trees and bushes. There were lots of flowers, a brook, small flowering trees, and some stone benches. It was the kind of place where you'd see old people hanging out to feed the ducks. The sky was full of stars that were so bright they provided plenty of light to see all this. I wondered briefly if one of them might be Second Earth. I had a quick feeling of homesickness, and forced myself to change gears. I didn't need to be feeling sorry for myself right then.

Nevva said to meet her there “later.” When was later? An hour? Three hours? A quad? A click? I found a small bench nestled between two flowering bushes, and settled in for I didn't know how long to wait for her.

“Hello, Pendragon,” came a voice. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

I whipped around to see Nevva standing behind the bench. Phew. “Later” meant now. Good thing. I didn't like the idea of sitting on a hard bench for long. I was too beat.

“I can't stay long,” she said. “I wouldn't know how to explain to Veego and LaBerge why I'm still here.”

Nevva came across as somebody who was überefficient and buttoned up. I wouldn't be surprised if she had “to do” lists. I was never like that. I'm more of a “wing it” kind of guy.

“You are everything Press said you would be,” she said.

“You knew my uncle?” I asked. It still surprised me to hear how Uncle Press had covered all the territories before I even knew I was a Traveler. Man, I missed him.

“Of course,” Nevva answered. “He came to Quillan a long time ago to tell me of my true destiny, and to give me this.” She pulled out the ring that dangled from her dark beaded necklace. When she spoke it was quickly and precisely. She seemed to know exactly what was going on. I, on the other hand, was floundering.

“Your true destiny,” I repeated. “What exactly
is
your true destiny? Who are you?”

“I'm the Traveler from Quillan of course,” she said as if she didn't understand how I didn't know that.

I stared at her for a long moment. I think my brain went back into the deep-freeze again. Nevva was the Traveler from Quillan. Then who was Remudi? Here I was looking for answers, and everything she said only led to more questions.

She continued, “I've been receiving journals from acolytes all over Halla, detailing your encounters with Saint Dane.”

“Acolytes send you journals?” I asked dumbly, trying to keep my head above water and make sense of all this.

“Yes,” she said. “Many share information, though I have
yet to hear from your acolytes, Mark Dimond and Courtney Chetwynde.”

“I don't think they know they're supposed to be writing,” I said.

Are you guys writing journals? Are you communicating with other acolytes? I have no idea.

“I haven't chosen an acolyte myself yet,” she said. “I simply haven't had time. In fact, I may not choose one. I can operate more efficiently on my own.”

“Whoa, wait wait, slow down,” I said. “If you're the Traveler from Quillan, wasn't Remudi your acolyte? He had a ring, didn't he?”

Nevva frowned. “That should never have happened. I tried to stop him from competing, but I have no power. You saw how Veego and LaBerge treat me. I am only an assistant to the trustees. Remudi was a brave and talented soldier, but he wasn't ready to compete. I'm heartsick that we've lost another Traveler. Perhaps if he'd had more time . . . ”

“What?” I shouted. “You just said that
you're
the Traveler from Quillan! Was Remudi the Traveler before you?”

“No,” Nevva snapped. She sounded irked that I didn't know the whole story, but she softened quickly. I think she finally realized that there was no way I could know the whole story. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew
what
?” I insisted.

“Remudi was the Traveler from Ibara,” she said.

For the third time that day I stared at Nevva Winter as my brain left to go on vacation somewhere. She had just dumped a truckload of information on me that I wasn't even close to expecting.

“Ibara?” I croaked. “That's another territory?”

“Well, of course,” Nevva said with surprise. It was if I had just said, “United States? Is that a country?”

“How did a Traveler from another territory end up here on Quillan?” I asked. “No, how did a Traveler from another territory end up
dead
here on Quillan?”

Before Nevva could answer, we heard a car pull into the courtyard. Nevva grabbed me and pulled me down into the bushes.

“Remudi is the least of it,” she whispered hurriedly. “There is so much to tell. You need to see it all. Quickly.”

Yeah, no kidding.

“Who is Mr. Pop?” I asked. I couldn't get the questions out fast enough. “And who are the trustees? And what is Blok?”

I heard voices coming from the courtyard. It sounded like Veego. She was barking orders to somebody.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “You will learn it all tomorrow. That's why I needed to see you tonight, to give you this.” She handed me a small silver clip that looked like a thick staple.

“And this is . . . ?”

“A blocking diode,” she explained. “Keep it with you, but don't let anyone know you have it. And don't use it unless it's absolutely necessary. You can only use it once. After that they'll know you have it.”

“O . . . kay,” I said skeptically. “It would help a little if I knew what it did.”

“Clip it onto your loop,” she said. “It blocks the signal. They won't be able to track you.”

Oh. Cool.

“I'd rather just take the loop off,” I said.

“No,” she said. “They'll know if it's off.”

“How come you don't have one?” I asked.

“Because I don't wager,” she answered. “And I'm not a challenger.”

I heard the sound of dado voices outside. More were arriving.

“I have to go,” Nevva said. “Don't lose that; it might save your life.”

She didn't have to tell me that twice. Nevva moved to leave, but I grabbed her arm.

“You can't leave!” I said. “I have to know what's going on! A Traveler is dead!”

“You will,” she said. “It would take too long to explain now, and if I'm caught, two more might join him.”

I couldn't argue with that.

“All right,” I said with resignation. “Let's hope I don't get killed before then.”

“You won't be,” she said. “Just do as they say and you will be fine.”

Nevva started away again, and I said, “Wait, you gotta tell me one thing. Have you found Saint Dane? Why did he leave these challenger clothes at the flume?”

“He didn't,” Nevva said. “I did.”

With that, she was gone.

(CONTINUED)

I
know I've said this before, but I've never felt so alone. Another Traveler had died and I never even got the chance to meet him. Whatever the territory of Ibara was, it no longer had a Traveler. Unless, of course, there was somebody who was going to take Remudi's place, but I had no way of knowing that. I couldn't stress about it, because I had my hands full here on Quillan, and the one person who could help me make sense of it all, Nevva Winter, was beyond my reach because I was trapped inside that twisted castle and forced to play idiotic, deadly games.

Worse, it was Nevva who set me up to play these games in the first place by leaving challenger clothes for me at the flume! Why did she do that? I had assumed it was Saint Dane's doing because seeing me getting beat up was just the kind of thing he liked doing. But another Traveler? She was supposed to be on my side! Why did she put me in this spot? Could the answer be that she was an idiot? No, that didn't fly. If there was one thing I could tell about Nevva Winter, she
was smart. And efficient. She wouldn't have made a dumb mistake like that. There was more to it than that. Nevva promised that my questions would be answered the next day. There was only one problem with that.

She didn't come back the next day. Or the day after that. I kept waiting for her to show up and get me the heck out of there, but she didn't. What was she doing? What had happened? It was making me nuts. I was still as much in the dark about how Quillan worked as when I arrived, and the one person who could help me understand, the Traveler from this territory, had abandoned me.

At least I can say that while I was stuck there, I was comfortable. Veego and LaBerge weren't kidding. I was treated like royalty. The food was great; my new room was big, comfy, and clown free; I had the run of the castle and even had a servant, Fourteen. He was always there to get me anything I wanted. Short of freedom, that is. Doesn't sound too horrible, does it?

Well, it was. I felt as though at any moment I'd get thrown into another one of their wicked games. Like with that Hook game, I feared that whenever I turned a corner or walked by a closed door, I'd be rudely sucked in and my life would be on the line. It's not a good way to live. The challenger party I saw was making all sorts of sense to me. They were blowing off steam and believe me, no matter how sweet the place was, steam built up. It was like being on death row, not knowing when the executioner would come knocking at your door.

I guess it shouldn't have felt all that odd to me. In many ways it was exactly how I'd been living my life for nearly three years. Ever since I left home with Uncle Press, I've had to live with the fact that any moment might be my last. Usually there's so much going on that I don't think about it, which is a good thing. I'd have gone out of my mind long ago.
But hanging around that castle, bored, wondering where Nevva was, and waiting for something to happen—man, it was slowly driving me insane. Bored and scared aren't a good combination. When you're bored, your mind wanders. I ended up worrying about things that I normally try not to stress about. I guess on the top of the list was the constant question of how I ended up here. I'm not talking about Quillan. I mean the whole Traveler gig in general. Why me? How come I was the lucky one who got to be the lead Traveler and match wits with Saint Dane? I'm not proud to admit this, but lately when my mind goes there, I get angry. Where before I'd been confused, frustrated, and scared, I now had to add anger to that list. I'm not even sure who to be angry at, which makes me even angrier! Who put me in this spot? Uncle Press? He definitely started me on the journey, but was it his choice to make me the lead Traveler? Or was he just following orders? That's the big question. Who started this whole thing? Gunny's theory is that there's some big cheese out there who selected the Travelers and is running the show. I guess that's possible, but I have no idea who it might be or how it could work.