D. MacHale - The Quillan Games

“When did you learn about being a Traveler?” I asked.

“Shortly after my father was sent to the tarz,” she said. “A man paid me a visit and said there was something important he needed to show me. He was a stranger, but there was something about him that made me trust him.”

“It was Press, wasn’t it?” I asked.

For the first time since I’d met her, Nevva smiled.

“He told me all about you,” she said. “He told me that one day you would arrive and help me guide the territory out of this horrible time. That was so long ago, I never thought this day would come. In the meantime he took me through the flumes and showed me the wonders of Halla. I saw all three Earth territories and learned of their history. I could relate to how the Milago were treated by the Bedoowan on Denduron, and how badly the gars were treated by the klee of Eelong. I swam underwater on Cloral and jumped into my own fantasy on Veelox. Without those experiences, I never would have believed I was a Traveler.”

“Do you know that Press is dead?” I asked.

Nevva nodded. “I understand we have lost many Travelers.”

“There’s been a boatload of tragedy,” I said. “The one thing I hang on to is that I don’t believe anybody died in vain. Saint Dane is getting weaker. At one time I thought for sure that Halla would be his, now I’m thinking we’ve turned the tide. We’re going to stop him.”

“Do you think he’s come to Quillan?” Nevva asked me.

I wasn’t sure how to break the news to her. Nevva seemed like somebody who was all about being control. I didn’t want to just blurt out: “You idiot! He’s a trustee!” That wouldn’t have been cool, so I answered carefully.

“I’ve seen Saint Dane take many forms,” I said. “Sometimes he creates his own character, other times he takes on the life of someone who already exists. Don’t ask me how he can do it. Uncle Press never explained it, and I haven’t figured it out myself. Let’s just say he’s got powers, and he uses them to confuse us.”

“You’re about to tell me he’s already here, aren’t you?” Nevva asked.

“Mr. Kayto,” I answered. “Saint Dane assumed his character.”

For a second I thought Nevva was going to faint. She actually seemed to sway, like it was going to be lights-out. I almost jumped up to grab her, but she collected herself and looked right at me.

“For how long?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “He revealed himself to me after I was in front of the trustees. He likes to tell me he’s around, just to make me squirm.”

“What is he trying to do here?” Nevva asked.

“If he’s telling the truth, he’s not doing anything to harm Quillan.”

“Really?” Nevva asked hopefully.

“That’s not good news,” I answered. “It’s because he thinks Quillan is already doomed. He’s just hanging around to pick up the pieces.”

“Oh,” Nevva said softly.

“There’s more,” I said. “He wants me to compete in the Grand X, just to see me lose. Humiliated, embarrassed, whatever.”

Nevva’s eyes lit up. “Are you serious?” she asked. I could have sworn she was happy about that news.

I said, “Why don’t you tell me why you put these challenger clothes at the flume.”

Nevva jumped to her feet and said, “Quillan can be saved, Pendragon. The time is coming. Change is coming. All we need is one last piece of the puzzle before the revival can begin.”

“Revival,” I echoed. “That’s what you said when I was brought here. What is it?”

“It’s the future of Quillan,” Nevva answered. “And the past. Quillan is not dead. There’s hope. It rests with the revival. That’s what I want to show you. I can explain it all, but it’s best you see for yourself. You need to see.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“The planning has taken a generation,” she said. “The revival is ready to erupt; all that’s needed is one more element.” “Which is?” I asked. “You, Pendragon. It’s you.”

(CONTINUED)

Nevva made me put the cloth bag back over my head before leaving the cell so I wouldn’t be able to see where I was.

“Trust me,” she said. “This isn’t my choice.”

“Yeah?” I said. “Whose choice is it?”

“You’ll find out very soon,” she said while handing me the bag. I had to trust her. What else could I do? I put the bag over my head, and she led me on what seemed like an elaborate journey up stairs, down corridors, up elevators and down elevators. It felt like we walked for half a mile. Then again, she could have been walking me around in circles. I had no idea. Finally I felt the warmth of the Quillan sun. We were out on the street. When she pulled the bag off my head, I had to squint against the bright light.

“Is it safe?” I asked. “I mean, if a dado sees me, I could get yanked right back to the castle.”

“You tell me,” she said as she pointed around the corner. I along both sides of the street, jamming the sidewalks. She said, “Without the loop it’s easy to get lost.”

I felt like a needle about to jump into a haystack. It helped that I wasn’t wearing the bright red challenger shirt anymore. As we walked along, I never felt more insignificant. It was like being one of those fish that moved around in a giant school, with everybody turning at the exact same time. No, I take that back. At least fish have interesting things to look at. The city of Rune was nothing but a whole lot of gray, and loaded with zombies. I’d rather be a fish.

Nevva took me on a short tour, proving that everything Saint Dane told me about the territory was true. If anything, it was worse. Who knew? The demon wasn’t lying. I guess he didn’t fool around when it came to giving bad news. He enjoyed it too much. I told Nevva what Saint Dane had explained to me about Blok. I was hoping she would tell me he was making it all up, and it wasn’t as bad as all that. She didn’t.

She first brought me to the apartment of a family she knew. It was in one of the tall, gray, featureless buildings that lined the wide avenues. Their home was on the twentieth floor, with no elevator. We had to climb, and that wasn’t the worst part. Fifteen people lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Fifteen. It looked barely big enough for two. My first thought was that these people had fallen on hard times and had to make the best of their situation. I was wrong. Nevva told me their living situation was normal. The rents were so expensive that entire families had to live together in order to survive. I thought back to my home on Second Earth, and how Shannon and I used to argue over who was spending too much time in the bathroom-in a house with three bathrooms. It’s amazing how easy it is to take something for granted.

The food situation wasn’t much better. The family invited us for dinner. I wish they hadn’t. We all sat on the floor as a woman handed us each a portion. There wasn’t any meat. We got a slice of bread, a hunk of brown something that I think was a potato, and two pieces of a tribbun. That was it. I was hungrier after I ate. It killed me to take food out of the mouths of these people, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. As bad off as they were, they still wanted to share. It told me a lot about them.

As we left the apartment, I asked Nevva, “How can they survive on so little food?”

She answered, “You’re beginning to see why these people will grab at any chance to better their lives. Betting on one of the Quillan games might mean an extra slice of bread on everyone’s plate. Or something to drink with more calories than water.”

“Or it could mean losing it all,” I said soberly.

Nevva nodded. We walked several blocks until we came to a large, windowless building. Inside, I saw it was a manufacturing center. Nevva and I moved along a catwalk that looked down on a huge room holding row after row of people sitting at stations, assembling shoes. I’m serious. They were making shoes. These weren’t happy cobbler elves, either. It was a massive assembly line of people, all doing it by hand. It was one of the most depressing things I had ever seen. Nobody spoke or even looked at the person next to them. They worked diligently, hunched over their stations. Some sewed, others dyed, still others cut pieces out of material. The only sound came from the clattering of tools or the cutting of fabric.