I didn’t want to see.
“I invent the games,” LaBerge said proudly. “All of them. Big and small.”
He reached into his robe and pulled out a small handheld toy. It looked like the wooden handle of a jump rope, with a button on one end. He held it upright and pressed the button. Instantly there was a whistling tweeee sound and a spinning red propeller flew up and out of the end of the handle. It rose into the air for about five feet, then ran out of energy and gently fluttered back down. LaBerge watched it intently, then expertly caught it in the hollow end of the launcher, where it settled back with a click. He looked at me and smiled like a proud kid who had just accomplished the impossible.
“Don’t you just love playing Runkle?” he asked.
“Never heard of it,” I said flatly.
LaBerge’s eyes went wide. “How can you not know Runkle?” he shouted. “Every child on Quillan has a Runkle!”
“Sorry, must have missed it,” I said.
LaBerge dropped the toy on the table and took a drink from his goblet. “You are an odd one. Challenger Red,” he said, pouting.
“Ignore him,” Veego said to me. “He may seem like a buffoon, but he is quite brilliant. One must have a bit of the child in them to concoct such unique games.”
“Unique games where people get killed,” I added, staring right at Veego.
She stared back at me and said, “We provide a service. We didn’t create the demand.”
We held eye contact for a moment. Man, she was cold.
“If he comes up with the games, what’s your job?” I asked.
“I’m the more practical side of this partnership,” she said. “Where LaBerge imagines the games, I make them real. Part of that is to find able contestants, which is why you are here. Challenger Red.”
“So it was your idea to bring me here?” I asked.
Before she could answer, three more identical servant dados entered with trays of food. They placed the trays in front of each of us and backed away. I saw fruit and slices of meat and some orange gnarly-looking vegetables that could have been squash, or carrots, or potatoes, or anything else. LaBerge picked up one of these twisted veggies from his plate, took a big crunchy bite, and said haughtily, “I, on the other hand, love tribbun.”
That answered that question. The thought crossed my mind that this food might be poisoned, but I had to eat. I needed to keep up my strength and there was no telling when I’d get another chance. Besides, I figured if they wanted me to compete in their games, they weren’t going to kill me. At least not yet. I took a bite of the tribbun, and I’m surprised to say that it was actually pretty good. It was crunchy like a carrot, but had the sweet flavor of a melon. Actually, all the food was pretty good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I started eating. I emptied my plate quickly, and Fourteen was right there to heap on more food. Or maybe it was Thirteen. Or Twelve. Sheesh.
“You see?” Veego said. “Challengers are treated very well.” “Until they have to die,” I said.
“You keep saying that!” LaBerge shouted. “Don’t you understand? We offer you a better life! You know what it is like out there. It’s a harsh, miserable existence. Here, the challengers are pampered and fed like they never could be on the outside. Here you have music and art and servants at your disposal. Can you imagine how wonderful that is? And yes, all right, every so often we ask that you compete in our games. And there is some risk. But is that so much to ask in return for living the life of a king?”
“Well… yes,” I said. “I told you, I’m not playing your games.”
LaBerge smacked his hand on the table and shouted, “You will!”
“Sit down!” Veego barked.
“He is making me very upset!” LaBerge yelled back at her. “Get used to it,” I said cockily.
LaBerge shot me an angry look. Before he could say anything, a door opened on the far side of the room. I glanced up, expecting to see Twelve, or Thirteen or Fifteen-and-a-Half or whatever, or possibly another dado cop charging in to see what all the shouting was about. It was none of these. Hurrying in with an armload of papers was a young woman. She was wearing an outfit similar to Veego’s. It was deep blue, with long pants and sleeves, and a jacket of the same color that came to her waist. Her clothes weren’t all that different from what the people wore outside in the city, but looked a bit more stylish. Or better made. Or something. Maybe it was the way they fit her, like the outfit was perfectly tailored. Yes, that’s the best way I can describe the outfit, and the woman, for that matter. Perfectly tailored. There wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. She had straight brown hair that was combed and parted on the side, and fell to just below her ears. Not one hair was out of place. She was pretty, too. Her eyes were big and brown and, I’m not quite sure how else to describe this, but they were… alive. Unlike most of the other people I had seen out there in the city of Rune, this woman looked like she had some spark. If I were to guess, I’d say she was a couple of years older than me. Maybe eighteen? Or nineteen? I’m not even sure how old I am anymore! She entered the room and walked quickly toward us. She seemed to be on a mission.
“Veego, LaBerge,” she said in a quick, professional way. “Good afternoon. I have the budget estimates from the trustees.”
She walked quickly past LaBerge without giving him a second look. This woman was all business. She didn’t have time for that goof. She didn’t notice me, either. She went right to the brains of the operation. Veego. She stood over the woman and held out the stack of white pages.
“I trust these will meet with your approval,” she said.
Wow, how stiff could you get? Veego looked up at her for a long moment without speaking. The woman looked kind of awkward standing there because Veego didn’t take the pages.
“Can’t you see we are in the middle of our meal?” Veego finally said. She may have sounded calm, but her voice was cold. “You come into my home, unannounced, uninvited, and proceed to annoy us with your personal concerns. Have you no manners?”
The woman blinked. Her efficient, professional appearance was shaken. “I–I apologize,” she said nervously. “I was told that getting these to you was triple important. I should have known you were-“
Veego grabbed the papers out of her hand. “Oh, be quiet!” she spat at the woman. Veego looked through the pages, and the woman backed away.
“Don’t move!” Veego ordered.
The woman froze. I felt sorry for her. She was totally intimidated. I can’t say that I blamed her. While Veego scanned the pages and LaBerge played with his Runkle toy, the woman stood there, looking uncomfortable. I watched as her eyes wandered around the room. When she finally saw me, she gasped and jumped back with such surprise you’d think I had shouted “Boo!”
Veego didn’t look up from the papers as she said, “Miss Winter, this is our new Challenger Red. Challenger Red, this is Nevva Winter.”
Nevva Winter. Interesting name. She opened her mouth as if to say something to me, but no words came out. That was weird. I knew the term “speechless,” but had never actually seen it happen.
“Hi,” I said.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t close her mouth either.
LaBerge said in a singsong voice, “Nevva, Nevva, works all day, but doesn’t have the time to play.”
“Close your mouth. Miss Winter,” Veego said without looking at her.
Nevva Winter blinked. Seeing me had really thrown her for some reason. “I–I knew that the new challenger was due, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon,” she said, trying to put her efficient face back on. “In fact, he’s mentioned on page four of the file I brought and-“
Veego tossed the pages into the air.
“Unacceptable,” she declared.
The pages fluttered to the floor, spreading everywhere. LaBerge laughed and clapped. Idiot. Nevva Winter tried to catch the floating pages but only managed to grab a few before they hit the ground.