“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)
QUILLAN
No 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…
That didn’t last very long.
I suddenly had a rooting interest in this contest. The crowd wasn’t impressed with Challenger Yellow. There was some cheering and applause for him, but nothing compared to the champion. That guy was cheered like he was the heavyweight champion of the world. He stood inside one of the squares on the floor of the platform, arms at his sides, glaring at Challenger Yellow. He looked calm. Challenger Yellow didn’t. There was no doubt, he was in trouble.
Each of the challengers held something in his hand that looked like a short steel club. The word “weapon” sprang to mind. I would have been much happier if they’d had a ball. Or a Frisbee. Or anything else that said “game,” as opposed to a lethal-looking club that could break bones.
A loud, steady tone sounded, and everyone became quiet.
“The betting is closed,” boomed Veego’s voice.
As the two challengers octagon, the platform began to lift up into the air. At the same time the crowd joined in with a loud, sustained chorus that sounded like they were chanting: “Taaaaaaaaaaaa…” The platform rose higher and higher, revealing a single heavy post underneath. The two challengers didn’t move. I didn’t blame them. The platform was getting pretty high. One slip and they’d go over the edge. I hoped they weren’t afraid of heights. At least, I hoped Challenger Yellow wasn’t afraid of heights.
“Taaaaaaaaa…,” droned the crowd.
The platform continued higher. I’m guessing it rose four stories before it finally stopped. Whatever it was those guys were going to do on that platform, they had to be careful. It was a long way down. My fear rose along
