“That’s great to hear. All right, I’ll be there when I can.”
They were watching one of Steene’s adult students compete when the officer appeared behind them. “Morning, Steene. Morning, Bensin. I heard you’re doing well so far.”
“Oh!” Bensin whirled around. “Oh, uh, Officer Shigo.”
The man chuckled. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Sorry I missed your first match, but Saturday breakfast is a family tradition when I don’t have to work, and just try dragging Nate out of bed before nine on a weekend. He would have come too, but he and some classmates are getting together later to work on a project for their Imperial history class. Am I in time to watch your second match, at least?”
“Yes, sir.” But now Bensin looked anxious. I hope having the officer here isn’t going to throw him off his game, Steene thought.
However, Bensin did just as well in the second duel as he had in the first. Midway through, his opponent started to force him back, but Bensin leaped into the roundhouse spin-and-switch maneuver he and Steene had been practicing. The other boy, caught off guard, managed to deflect the kick with his shil but struck out at an angle designed for an opponent wielding a cavvarach in his right hand. The next instant Bensin struck out even harder, and with a clang, his opponent’s weapon sailed out of his hand. If it hadn’t been for the netting draped around the ring, it would have landed far off in the middle of the crowd.
Steene and the officer cheered as Bensin ducked out of the ring. “You are really impressive,” Kalgan told the boy as Steene helped him off with his padding. “Nate’s going to be sorry he missed this.”
“I didn’t think I was going to be able to beat that guy,” Bensin confided, sweat shining on his face in spite of the air conditioning. “He was so fast. But you’re right, Coach, the switching thing really throws people.”
Bensin won his third match almost as easily, which put him in the quarterfinals. It was noon by that time, and there was a break for lunch at the end of the rung. Spectators dispersed to grab fast food from restaurants in the area or from the grill someone had set up out in front of the gym, while those who had brought their own food gathered in the cafeteria in the basement.
Kalgan had brought a sack lunch as well, and he joined Steene and Bensin at one of the tables. Bensin, obviously still uncomfortable around the officer, kept his eyes on his food for most of the meal. He ate in silence, only speaking when one of the adults asked him a direct question.
“Why does he keep coming to my tournaments, Coach?” Bensin whispered when the officer finally got up to throw his trash away.
“Why shouldn’t he?”
“Well, he — I — he arrested me.”
“So? He was doing his job that night, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be a decent guy who cares about young people like you, even those who make mistakes now and then.”
“But he warned me what would happen if I ever got in trouble again. I feel like he’s keeping an eye on me, like he’s always watching for me to mess up somehow.”
“Oh, come on. He wouldn’t show up at your tournaments on his days off just to see if you’re going to somehow break the law.” Actually, Steene thought it was great the way the officer had welcomed the boy to hire in at his place and even come to watch him compete. A teenager could always use more adult role models in his life, especially when he didn’t have parents of his own in the picture.
“Then why’s he come these two times, Coach?” Bensin persisted.
“He likes you. He wants to show his support.” But the boy didn’t look convinced. “Anyway, I don’t know why you’re so worried about that. After all, you’ve been working at his place every Monday.”
“This is different, Coach.”
Different, how? Different because I’m here too? Steene had noticed that Bensin seemed to get extra uncomfortable every time he and Kalgan talked. Perhaps there were details of his attempted escape a few weeks ago that the boy didn’t want Steene to know.
“Well, get your mind off of that and back on cavvara shil,” he advised as the officer returned, “and finish up that sandwich so it has time to digest before your next round.”
Though noticeably more tired, Bensin did well in the quarterfinals too. “You think he’s going to place today?” the officer wanted to know as they watched him switch his cavvarach from his right hand to his left mid-spin.
“Yeah, I’m sure he is. I’m certain of it.”
As if to prove him right, Bensin’s hook connected with his opponent’s, and he yanked the weapon smoothly out of the other boy’s hand exactly the way they had practiced. “What did I tell you?” Steene laughed. “He’s guaranteed at least fourth place now, and he’s on a roll.”
The gym was emptier by the time the semifinals started. Many competitors headed home after they had been eliminated, along with their families and friends. But there were still enough people left for Bensin to receive a pretty decent round of applause when he won his semifinal duel. The further a fighter made it, the more people were impressed, even when he or she was a slave.
The officer shook Bensin’s sweaty hand. “Congratulations. You’re doing awesome.”
“Thank you, sir.” Bensin was breathless but excited. “I can hardly believe it,” he told Steene. “It’s like everything keeps going perfect. The switching thing is working like magic.”
“But don’t get cocky,” Steene warned. Still, he was too proud to be stern for long. “You’ve won second place at minimum,” he reminded his student. “A hundred imps!” And nine hundred for me. His bank account could sure use that refill. “But keep it up a little longer and you’ll earn a hundred fifty.”
What he didn’t tell Bensin — though the boy would realize it soon enough — was that Jayce had also made it to the finals. The two of them would be battling each other next.
There was enough of a break for Bensin to drink part of a smoothie and rest up a little before the finals. Steene left him and Kalgan sitting by their stuff and went to reconnoiter behind enemy lines.
He found Jayce surrounded by a crowd of friends at the other end of the gym. “How’s it going?” Steene greeted him.
“It’s great!” the boy beamed. “Did you see me fight?”
“I’ve seen bits and pieces of your matches. Nice job today.”
“Thanks! I’m going to win.”
“Oh, really? Pretty confident, aren’t you?” Jayce was always confident, but he wasn’t always right.
“Absolutely! I won last weekend, too. Did you hear? My parents drove me down to Krillonia to compete in the Winter Special and I got first place. That’s three tournaments in a row! This will be number four!”
Resisting the urge to say something snippy and childish, Steene just smiled and walked away. But Markus unpeeled himself from the crowd of fans and came after him.
“The kid’s awesome. Have you been watching him?”
“Not much. I’ve got my own student to watch.”
“Several of mine competed today. They all did well, of course, but Jayce is by far the best. Really, I think he’s the best athlete I’ve ever trained, if I do say so myself.”
Yeah, because I got him that way before he ever started with you. But Steene kept walking. There was no point in arguing with somebody who was convinced they could never be mistaken. Seven years with Serra had taught him that much.
“I saw Bensin made it to the finals as well. I got that kid pretty good too, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I hope he doesn’t have his hopes too high for the last rung, though. It’s not going to be any different than when he faced Jayce before.”
That was too much. Steene stopped and turned to face him. “We’ll see about that,” he told Markus, eyes narrowed. “Bensin is better now than he was last time.”
“Maybe, but so is Jayce.” Markus grinned. “We’ll see, all right.”
Bensin started the final round nervous. Steene could tell. He had been focused; he had been in his Zone; but then Jayce swaggere
d into the ring with his trademark smirk and custom-designed cavvarach, and Bensin’s confidence collapsed.
“It’s not going as well as it was,” Kalgan observed, watching as Jayce dodged a blow and administered a flying kick that sent Bensin reeling.
Steene scowled. “It’s been a long day. He’s worn out.” But Jayce has had just as long a day.
The audience — a huge crowd surrounding the ring, since this was the final match — began to chant. “Jayce! Jayce! Jayce! Jayce!” If Bensin had been in his Zone, he wouldn’t have heard or cared. But it was obvious that he wasn’t, and Steene saw him grit his teeth, saw him gather himself for the front kick that would give him space to switch hands. But Jayce parried or sidestepped all his attempts, pressing him so hard Bensin didn’t have a chance at anything but desperate defense.
“Come on, come on,” Steene yelled. “You can do it. Turn on the offense. Get yourself some breathing room and switch already!”
But Bensin couldn’t seem to. Jayce kept pressing forward, backing him all over the ring. Finally the older boy caught him off balance, swinging one foot out in a spinning hook kick that swept Bensin’s legs out from under him. Steene saw his student try to roll out of the way, but Jayce pounced.
“One!” yelled the crowd, delighted, as the two boys struggled on the floor. “Two!”
“Come on,” Steene repeated. “Throw him off!”
“Three!”
But he saw Bensin go limp, defeat in his face. “Don’t you dare give up!”
His voice was swallowed up as the crowd bellowed louder, “Four! FIVE!” A roar of excitement filled the gym, so loud they could barely hear the whistle that signaled the end of the match.
Jayce stayed put a moment longer, bending low over his pinned opponent. Steene couldn’t hear what he was saying, but that smirk was back, and he thought he read the word collar from the boy’s lips. Then Jayce was on his feet, cavvarach held high, grinning and whirling in triumph as his fans went crazy.
Bensin finally rolled over and pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t look at anyone, keeping his eyes glued to the floor as he trudged across the ring and ducked under the netting.
Steene forced his way through the crowd toward him. “Why did you let him get to you?” he couldn’t help demanding as soon as the boy was within earshot. “You let him knock you out of your Zone right at the beginning. You could have beaten him if you’d just done it the way we practiced. And what were you thinking, giving up before the end? You don’t ever, ever stop fighting until the whistle blows!”
Bensin, blinking hard, stared down at his bare feet. “I’m sorry, Coach.” His voice was barely audible above the cheers and applause.
Seeing his obvious misery, Steene softened. “Still, you did come in second. That’s better than last time, and this was a harder tournament, too.”
“Second place is nothing to be ashamed of,” Kalgan agreed from beside him. He chuckled. “That’s better than Nate’s team did in their last soccer tournament. You’ll have a shiny silver trophy to take home, and — what? — did I hear that you get to keep a hundred imps from the prize money? That will be a nice addition to your savings.”
Bensin’s head came up and he froze, for all the world as though he were alarmed at something the officer had said or might be about to say. “You’re right, sir, it will be,” he put in hastily. “Thank you, yeah. Not as good as first place, but I’ll do better next time. Hey, Coach, I’m going to go get some water, okay? My throat’s parched.” And he darted into the crowd without even taking off his padding.
Steene and Kalgan stared at each other, perplexed. “What in the world was that about?” the officer wondered.
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen a kid snap out of a funk that fast. Well, I guess it’s better than having him sit around feeling sorry for himself.”
But Steene turned to stare after Bensin’s retreating back. What is it that he’s keeping from me?
Chapter Thirteen: Less than Legal
Bensin was stiff and sore when he woke up Sunday morning, as usual after a tournament, but his pride was injured worse than anything else. Jayce. Someday I’ll show him. The free boy had beaten him twice now, but at least Bensin had made it a lot further yesterday than the first time. He had become a way better fighter already under Coach Steene’s instruction, and he knew he would continue to improve.
And yet he had a discouraging suspicion that no matter how good he got, Jayce would always be just a little better.
Or a lot better.
But still, he reminded himself as he pulled on his clothes, I did come in second. He had competed in the Young Warriors of Jarreon Tournament last year and had not even placed. Now his silver trophy was displayed on the shelf beside the bronze one.
But even better was the money. Bensin had stuck it in the envelope he kept under his mattress with the rest of his savings, which he counted every day. Including what he had been earning each week from yardwork at Officer Shigo’s house, he now had three hundred sixty-nine imps and forty-five slivers. I just have to figure out how much it will cost to get Ellie’s collar removed. Maybe today Ricky would finally have that information for him.
He had finished scrubbing the floor and was in the kitchen chopping nuts to add to oatmeal when Coach got up. “Morning, Bensin. How you feeling today?”
“A little sore, Coach,” he admitted, measuring oats into the pot of boiling water. “I can feel every spot where I got kicked or whacked. It’s not too bad, though.”
“That’s good.” Coach pulled out bowls and spoons and set them on the desk. “We’ll take the morning off from running. Take it easy and rest up a little until you head out for work. This evening we’ll watch a movie over dinner and then sleep in tomorrow. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds great, Coach.” Bensin gave the pot a stir and pulled out the bread to make himself a sandwich for lunch. A movie would be a fun end to the day. In the meantime, just one yard to work in, and then he had four hours to spend with Ellie.
He got to the neighborhood a few minutes early and decided to check if Ricky was around. There was no sign of him in the park where he usually spent his days off, so Bensin headed for Ricky’s owner’s house. As he approached, the front gate opened and his friend appeared.
“Hey, Ben. Saw you coming. I just got up. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. I took second place in a tournament yesterday.”
“Wow, congratulations! Wish I could have seen it.” Ricky lowered his voice. “You want to come hang out? I’ve got some answers for you finally.”
“Tell me!”
“Not here, bro.” His friend glanced around. “Come on. Come with me to the park.”
“But I’ve gotta work. It’s my day to do Mrs. Endison’s lawn and garden.”
“Yeah, and you want Mrs. Endison and all the neighbors to hear? Rule Number Forty-Two: don’t let free people overhear anything they don’t need to.”
“Okay, then we’ve gotta hurry. My owner knows I left home a little early, so he’ll think it’s weird if she calls him to complain that I’m late.”
The park was full of slaves and free people of all ages enjoying the weekend, but Bensin and Ricky stopped at the edge away from everyone else.
“So what did you find out?” Bensin prompted as soon as he was sure no one would overhear them.
His friend kept his voice low. “A guy I work with got ahold of a guy he knows whose cousin has a girlfriend who told him about someone who might be willing to — you know — help you with what you want.”
“Yeah? How do I get in touch with this person?”
“I don’t know where his place is, but it’s an auto body shop. It’s called Wenn’s End Auto Repair and Detailing. Wenn is the owner’s name, and supposedly he’s been known to occasionally make deals with slaves who want their freedom.” Ricky said those last five words under his breath so that Bensin had to read his lips. “Supposedly if you go there and say that Bruno sent you to a
sk for work, Wenn will know what you want and arrange it with you.”
“But you don’t know where this Wenn’s End is?”
“Only that it’s here in Jarreon somewhere. You’ll have to look it up.”
“Did your friend’s friend’s cousin’s girlfriend say how much it would cost?”
“No, you’ll have to work that out with Wenn.” Ricky glanced around again. “But listen, bro. Be careful, all right? You’re talking big trouble if you get caught even looking into this. Big trouble. Trouble for Wenn, too. You know he and his family will all be sold as slaves if the authorities find out.”
“If he does this kind of thing, he must have a plan for keeping his family out of trouble.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Not every parent thinks ahead that way.” Ricky’s voice was bitter, and with good reason. He had been born free but had been sold into slavery at age ten. His dad, who had worked as an accountant, had been caught embezzling money — an especially serious crime considering that he worked for a government agency — and he and his entire family had been clapped in collars and sold at auction. Bensin knew that Ricky hadn’t seen his parents or older brother since.
“I’ll be careful,” he assured his friend. “I won’t get caught, and I won’t tell anyone else about this guy or where I heard about him. But I need to do it for my sister. Thank you so much for finding this all out. You ever need a favor from me, just let me know.”
“Yeah, I will.” But Ricky still looked troubled as Bensin turned and jogged back the way he had come.
He repeated the information silently to himself so he wouldn’t forget as he mowed Mrs. Endison’s lawn and weeded her flower garden. Wenn’s End Auto Repair and Detailing. Bruno sent me to ask for work. Wenn’s End Auto Repair and Detailing. Bruno sent me to ask for work. It couldn’t be that hard to find out where the place was.
After he was done there, he hurried to mow the Creghorns’ lawn, the usual payment for visiting Ellie. Today, however, he might not actually have time to hang out with her. Not if he wanted to find this Wenn.
The Collar and the Cavvarach Page 17
