He stopped in front of a door that already had the sign challenger red on it. I stood there, letting his last comment sink in.
“They all die?” I finally asked. “Every last one?”
Fourteen didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
“Good night. Challenger Red,” he said. “I hope you have a restful evening.”
Restful evening? After having a death sentence dropped on you? Nighty night! Sleep tight! Yeah, right.
“Oh, hey, do you know where the octagon is?” I asked.
“Yes. It is a small garden across the courtyard from the front entrance to the castle,” he answered.
Wow, that was easy.
“Thanks,” I said. “Good night.” I started to open the door when-
“Remudi,” Fourteen said.
“Huh?” I said, thinking I didn’t understand him.
“Remudi,” Fourteen repeated. “I believe that was the given name of Challenger Yellow.”
Remudi. The name meant nothing and everything to me.
“He appeared to be a talented combatant,” Fourteen added. “Yet he was oddly gentle. I cannot say that of all the challengers.”
I nodded. I knew what he meant. There were a few other Travelers who fit that description.
“Remudi,” I repeated out loud. I had a name for the face.
Fourteen added, “I do not know many of the challengers’ given names. We are instructed to call them by their titles. But he was somehow different. Much like… you.”
The robot sensed that there was something different about us. About the Travelers. I was beginning to think that this dado dude actually had some feelings. Was that possible? I mean, aren’t robots dispassionate machines? Like walking toasters? At least that’s the way it worked in sci-fi stories. I couldn’t know for sure, because before coming to Quillan I hadn’t run into any real robots.
“Did you like Remudi?” I asked.
“Like is not something I am familiar with, though I understand it,” he said. “I regret that he died.”
“What happened to his body?” I asked.
“He was cremated,” Fourteen said. “The ashes were scattered. That is always the way it is done.”
I nodded. Another Traveler turned to ashes.
“If you need anything, no matter what, touch the call light inside your door,” Fourteen said. “I am assigned to you and will make your stay here as comfortable as I possibly can. Would you like me to bring you food, or drink?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “I just want to sleep.”
“Very well. Good night. Challenger Red.”
“Pendragon,” I said. “My name is Pendragon.”
“Pendragon,” Fourteen echoed, as if trying it on for size. He nodded and left.
I was about to enter the room, when I stopped and took a look around. The corridor was wide, with large windows that looked out onto a starry sky. Thick ornate carpets ran the length of the hall, with various sculptures and elaborate lamps lining both walls. It was strange. I was being held captive. If I followed in the footsteps of the other challengers, I would die. This place may have looked like a fancy hotel, but it was death row. Yet my door wasn’t locked. I had to believe that if I tried to leave the castle, I’d have a couple of dados on my butt firing their nasty little golden tranquilizer guns, but could I go wherever I wanted inside? As badly as I wanted to lie down and sleep for a week, my job wasn’t to be a good little challenger and rest up so I could put on a good show for the zookeepers. My job was to find Saint Dane. To do that, I first needed to find Nevva Winter.
I watched as Fourteen walked to the end of the long corridor and disappeared around a corner. I actually liked that bald little robot guy. Mostly because he said some nice things about the Traveler Remudi. But he also treated me like a human instead of a commodity. Still, he worked for Veego and LaBerge. I didn’t want to trust him and have it come back to bite me in the butt.
I walked in the opposite direction from the one Fourteen was going. The idea was to find my way down to the courtyard without running into one of those dado goons. Or a Veego or LaBerge goon, for that matter. I quietly crept along the dimly lit hallway, tuned for any sign of life.
I turned down another corridor and heard faint far-off sounds. I stopped and listened for a moment, and was surprised to realize that what I was hearing sounded like a party. It was muffled, but I definitely heard music. People were talking loudly and laughing. Not that a party is all that strange, but in this twisted death-house castle, the idea of people partying it up didn’t compute. I followed the sound. It grew louder as I got closer. It was definitely a party. I figured it was probably LaBerge getting crazy, which for him wouldn’t be a big stretch. Though I didn’t want to know what kind of people that guy would party with. Probably clowns. Who else would hang with that loser? The thought made my skin crawl.
I approached an open doorway and cautiously took a peek inside. It wasn’t LaBerge and a bunch of clowns, I’m happy to say. It was a full-fledged, raucous party of… challengers. The room looked to be a dining hall. It had long wooden tables and heavy padded chairs. There were plants and paintings and lamps that cast a warm, pleasant glow to the place. The table was heaped with food and drink. It was a feast! Servant dados scurried around, making sure that plates stayed loaded with steaming delicacies and that tankards remained filled with drink. All the servants looked exactly like Fourteen. You’d think they would at least have them wear numbers to tell them apart.
None of what I just described was as interesting as the challengers themselves. There were about twenty of them, all young, all in great shape. They weren’t all guys, either. There were just as many girls. I knew they were challengers because most wore their striped jerseys. But many had the jerseys off and wore T-shirts of the same color. They were laughing and telling stories, and clapping one another on the back and talking too loud and basically having a great time. One guy took a goblet of something and dumped it on the head of another guy. Everybody cheered and whooped like it was a frat party.
The music came from a band that was set up in the far corner. It was made up of more Fourteen clones. Dados. They played a weird tune that was kind of like rock, but had a haunting, loopy undertone. Their instruments were electronic keyboards. The band stood up and played like a regular house band, but it looked like they were standing at computers. Even the drum guy was on a computer. He was good, too. They played a dance tune with a driving beat. They may have been robots, but they could play! Yes, there was dancing. It didn’t look like any couples were together, it was more like a mosh of gyrating, sweating bodies. They were having a blast.
I didn’t get it at first. How could these guys be partying like high school kids when they were in such a bad way? I even recognized the three guys who’d tried to behead me in that gruesome game of Tock. They were dancing and shouting like everybody else. The only sign that they were any worse for wear was the blood stain on the sleeve of Challenger White.
One of the challengers leaped off the dance floor, jumped up onto the table, and held up a goblet, shouting, “To Mr. Pop!”
Everyone screamed in approval, raising their goblets and toasting. A chant started: “Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop…” They stomped on the tables and clapped their hands. The chanting reached a crescendo, everyone cheered, and the party continued.
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
