It was close to start time and people were still filing in. The box seats had long since been occupied. The city council members and their families had taken up five sections of the box seating shortly after Rand's match ended, and other dignitaries and celebrities were seated in the remainder of them.
The crowd was becoming restless. The combined noise of loud talking, yelling, and laughter was beginning to sound like the roaring of a pride of Chaision lions smelling the blood and seeking the kill. It wasn't something Lyil had ever experienced in her new-found spectator sport, as she had never been to a match with this many spectators.
Rand finally returned. He handed a mead to Lyil and then one to Tam as he sat down. "You should see the lines out there. Horrendous is the only word I can think of." He leaned back in his seat and took a drink.
The names and scores on the scoreboard were cleared away leaving a blank array of red lights. "There goes my name," said Rand. The names of the next two contestants appeared: Ben Hillar vs. Xil Kilter.
"I've never seen so many people at one of these matches," said Lyil in a slightly awed voice. "There must be more than a hundred thousand spectators, and they all seem so anxious as if they were waiting for the match of the century."
Tam said, "That's because you weren't here last year when the man who placed number eleven in the Galactic Games was in the tournament."
"You know I had to work or I would have been here."
"I know, but it's always like this for those who place in the Galactic Games."
This pleased Lyil. "It'll be fun to watch Ben compete against a swordsman who has placed in the Galactic Games," she said. "I'm glad I took the time." Lyil figured it was likely Ben wouldn't win, but if he did or didn't, it would be exciting to watch.
The people kept filing in. And Lyil could see very few empty seats. The spectators were beginning to sit in the aisles or were standing behind the last row in each tier. The noise was becoming louder as the crowd grew.
Just then a man stepped into their box.
Rand looked up, and then stood up. "Dr. -ejjon," he said putting forth his hand to be shaken. "It's good to see you."
"Hello Rand," said the new comer as he grabbed the outstretched hand and shook it. He looked down at Tam. "Hello Tam," he said. He shook her hand. And then he looked at Lyil, smiled, but said nothing.
Rand came to his rescue. "Dr. -ejjon let me introduce you to Lyil Zornburst—a most trusted friend."
"Good to meet you," he said and bent over to shake her hand.
"A pleasure," responded Lyil. "It's always nice to meet a famous man." Lyil noticed that he was different from most Tarmorian men in that he was small and slender, other than that he was typical in that he had brown skin, black hair, brown eyes, and that deep Tarmorian voice. He was dressed in upper class attire.
Dr. -ejjon laughed amiably. "By famous, I hope you mean in a good way."
"Of course," said Lyil. "I love your comic books."
"That's wonderful," Ros said with an air of honest relief. "I was afraid you might be offended by them."
"Not at all. I find some of the episodes quite humorous, and well written with a plot that keeps me interested."
"Thank you. That is always my goal." He stepped back so as not to crowd them. "I noticed yours is the only box left with some empty seats, and since I volunteered to give up my seat for the Mayor's daughter—who rarely comes to a swording event, I . . . "
"My dear Dr. -ejjon," interrupted Rand. "Please say no more. Come and join us."
"Thank you. It's most kind of you." He walked down the row until he came to the next empty seat, which was next to Lyil’s. He sat down. "How were you able to commandeer one of these boxes?" he asked.
Lyil swept her red hair off her shoulders with a dignified, graceful motion of her hands. "Dr. Hillar is a guest of the Galaef's, and I've been showing him around the city." She looked at Ben in her mind’s eye. She had been telling herself that he was just a friend, but Mandril was probably right when she said Lyil was fooling herself. Even so, it didn’t make sense that she could be attracted to a man she had met only three days ago?
"It’s fortunate," said Ros, “that you’ve gotten to know Professor Hillar.”
"Most fortunate," agreed Rand. “It’s not that often we get to watch a Grand Master in one of our tournaments, let alone two of them.”
Lyil started to ask about the two Grand Masters, when one of the competitors, in the upcoming match, emerged from the tunnel.
Tam pointed. "Look, is that Ben?" She asked in her husky voice.
“You’re trying to be funny,” said Lyil in an irritated tone. “But it’s not working.” Lyil, knowing that the top seeded swordsman always came in last, was quick to realize that Ben was the Grand Master.
Just then a heralder appeared in the tunnel at the other end of the arena. "And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Grand Master of the Galaxy, Professor Ben Hillar." The microphone around his neck amplified his voice throughout the stadium echoing off the walls.
The entire audience rose in a standing ovation. They cheered, clapped, and stomped their feet as Ben walked out of the tunnel.
Not expecting this type of an ovation for a Grand Master, Lyil was probably the last one on her feet. "Why didn't you tell me he placed in the Galactic Games?" she shouted.
Tam shouted back. "Why don't you keep up with the results? Or why didn't you read his personal file? You're G-staff. You have access to that information."
"Since I was going out with him, I thought I'd be taking unfair advantage."
"Silly Girl."
Feeling silly was something Lyil hadn’t experienced since she was a young girl in pre-college school on her home planet, and she certainly didn’t feel silly now, however it suddenly occurred to her that in her sense of fairness toward Ben she had violated her job description. Being uniformed was not in the best interest of the Galaef. She was beginning to see that she had let her feelings for Ben, however slight they were, interfere with her duties as a personal interviewer and as a member of the “G Staff. She would never let it happen again.
After a minute of a standing ovation, the spectators started sitting down and the noise subsided.
Not looking at his files might not have been the right thing to do, nevertheless Lyil was glad she hadn't checked Ben’s personal file. There was no question now that she liked him for who he was and not for his fame.
She sat down as Ben stepped onto the swording platform. He whipped his sword in the air a couple of times, and then waited for the buzzer. He didn't appear nervous, but rather, confident.
His muscles rippled under the swording body suit, and his broad shoulders stood out in contrast to Xil's physique. Ben's build was not typical of the athletes in this sport. Because of his muscular build he appeared to lack the agility of the slender swordsman. This was another reason Lyil had not suspected Ben’s status as a Grand Master Swordsman.
The buzzer sounded, and as the match began Lyil noted that Ben's quickness and finesse more than compensated for his broad shoulders and stout chest.
Xil had made it to the fourth round of this tournament, which meant he was no slouch, but against Ben he not only looked like a beginner, but also confused. All of Ben's feints, thrusts, and parries were deft and accurate. Xil was on the defensive immediately and was continually backing away with little in the way of offensive moves.
The match lasted less than a minute. Ben's point found Xil's chest and the electronic sensors in his body suit registered 'kill' on the scoreboard. A buzzer sounded and the match was over.
It appeared there were very few who thought it would last longer than the first round, or even longer than one minute. The crowd jumped up and started cheering. Some of them were waving tickets in the air. They had obviously wagered on a short match, and now, those who wagered most accurately, within the fifteen-second window, and on the number of thrusts, feints, parries, and rare maneuvers would be the big winners. It was a good
time for the Tarmorians. They got to watch a Grand Master and win money too.
After the cheering died down, the audience started filing out, hurrying off to the wagering booths. The stadium was emptying quickly.
Still thinking about the match, which had just ended, Lyil sat down and looked at Tam. "In the two nights that I’ve been out with Ben I hadn’t noticed that he was left handed."
Rand leaned forward. "He's not," he said. "He's right handed, but when it comes to swording he's ambidextrous. He uses either hand equally well. Not even the number one Grand Master can use both hands as well as Ben Hillar. The odds makers are saying, in two years, when the Galactic Games are once again conducted, Ben Hillar will become the next number one Grand Master."
"What is he now?" asked Lyil. She didn't want to keep showing her ignorance, but curiosity got the best of her.
Rand stood up indicating that he was ready to leave. "He placed number three in the games,” he said looking down at Lyil. And I’m sure that he will eventually be known as the greatest swordsman of all time.”
Lyil started musing. "If he's that good, then he'll probably win the tournament."
"I’m sure he will," said Rand. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "The odds makers are saying he will, but the number two Grand Master is also in the tournament."
"The man who placed second in the Galactic Games? And you think Ben will win?"
"Yes," said Rand. "But . . . , well, you would have to have seen the match Ben Hillar lost to him at the Galactic Games. Ben won the first two rounds, and it looked like he was going to win the match easily. Then Zirnen pulled a trick out of the books which Ben Hillar had never seen. From the ground, lying on his back, he thrust his sword up under Ben Hillar's left arm and into the ribcage. He had obviously been saving this trick for a time when he was desperate—about to lose the match.
“Now the odds makers assume he's out of tricks and won't beat Ben again."
Tam tapped her foot a couple of times. "Excuse me for changing the subject, but don't you think Ben will want to get together with you?"
"Of course,” replied Lyil. “He knows I’m here, since the usher told him I was using his box seats."
"It doesn’t matter that he knows you’re here. You better get down to his locker room. If he comes up here he'll be mobbed by the throngs."
"I didn't know we were allowed in the back."
"Of course you are. He's a friend of yours."
"What about you?"
"We'll have a bite of lunch and meet you back here about 5:30 for Ben's next match."
Lyil asked an usher for directions.
Chapter Ten