Half an hour later, Ben was lying in bed with his eyes closed, when he heard Sharpie's voice, "I thought you were conscious?" she whispered.
Ben looked up. "I am," he stated.
In a reproachful tone she said, "You didn't hang in there like I told you."
Ben frowned. "I'm not a joiner," he replied.
"A joiner?"
"Yeah, you know, the gangs."
"Oh," she said in a hesitant voice. "Yes, the gangs." She looked as if she were trying to figure out how to say something. Finally, she said, "You won't have to worry about the gangs anymore." She looked at the two men on the other side of the room and then back at Ben. "Last night someone threw Rodde over the edge of the pit, either that or he accidentally fell. Personally I pick the first of the two."
Ben looked distressed. "Did you have something to do with it?" he asked.
"No," she answered. "But I think I know who did."
They both looked at each other for a moment, and then Ben asked, "Jobbe?"
"It doesn't really matter 'who.' The point is the gangs won't bother you anymore, because if they do they're going to end up, or maybe I should say, ‘end down’ at the bottom of the pit like Rodde." She said it a little louder as she looked across the room at the other two men.
The man with the cast on his foot and leg averted his eyes.
"I guess I can live with that," said Ben, "but I wouldn't have had Rodde killed."
"Yes, it's unfortunate," she said, "nevertheless the point's been made." She walked between the two beds until she was parallel with Ben's chest. "I guess I'll have to cancel the swording match."
Ben raised his head. "Not on my account," he said without hesitation. "With the administration of the SR I'll be up in three days."
"But you'll be weak."
"Maybe, but I'll be ready." He said with a tone of conviction.
“I can see you’re a man of determination. I guess that comes with being a great athlete.