The fourth competition was played with two teams of six players each, and played on a much larger court. Otherwise, it was much like the two player game.
Kren was taught the distance and accuracy games on his first day of training, and even though he was still drowsy from too much eating, and confused because of his new brain cells, after an hour with the new javelin, he did better than any of the other athletes present.
Twice, he threw his javelin entirely out of the arena.
The Master of Javelins called all of her athletes around before she dismissed them.
“I want you all to stay silent about what you saw Kren do today. The rules permit any of us to place any wagers that we wish, except that we may not bet that we will lose, or that our opponents win. I plan on betting heavily on Kren at our first competition in four weeks. If everybody knows what he can do, the odds on him will go down to nothing. Enough said? Good. Dismissed!”
As he was going back to the locker room, the master stopped him and said, “Kren, you are the best throw I’ve ever seen. But starting tomorrow, I don’t want to see you throwing any more javelins out of the stadium. What we are going to work on is throwing just a little bit beyond what the next best man on the field has done. If you keep throwing half again better than anybody else, the betting on javelin distance throwing will drop to zero, and we’ll all lose money. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, madam. That seems to be a very sensible program to me.”
Never having admired or envied anyone famous, Kren couldn’t imagine wanting fame, so setting records meant nothing at all to him.
After a pleasant rubdown, he returned homeward.
Once again he found that he was lost, but a memory from the last brain he had partially eaten told him that if he went down a certain nearby staircase, he could quickly get to the train station, from which it was a straight walk to Bronki’s place.
He soon found himself in an absolutely dark tunnel that he had never been in before, but which nonetheless seemed familiar. The complete darkness would have caused most Mitchegai problems, but Kren’s nine gross years in the darkness of the mines had sharpened his other senses.
This had nothing to do with any sort of hypothetical ESP. It was more a matter of being attuned to the slight rustling of clothing, the slight breeze of a body coming close to you, the echo of your own breath and footsteps returning from all that was around you.
He felt, rather than heard or saw, two persons step out in front of him, and two more behind.
“Stop where you are,” a voice to his forward left said in the darkness. “Drop your credit card and all of your money on the floor, and you will be permitted to leave unharmed.”
“Giving you all of my money would be most inconvenient for me. I have had a difficult day, and I am not in the mood for further social interactions. Leave me alone, and I will agree to cause the four of you no harm whatsoever.”
“You are a fool.”
“No, I am a warrior,” Kren said.
“You have been warned.”
“So have you.”
Kren felt, or perhaps heard, them approaching. He dropped his book bag and drew his sword. He heard the one closest, to the front left, hesitate, and then he heard her draw her own blade. Of course knowing that all adult Mitchegai are exactly the same height, Kren stepped forward and made a horizontal swipe with his sword. He felt it connect with the neck, and heard the head separate from the body.
Before he heard the head hit the floor, he heard a slight rustle of cloth as the second mugger in front turned to her right to look at the death of her coworker. This took her a fatal half second, and this was enough time for Kren to decapitate her as well.
One of the muggers to the rear was running forward, but the way that the second hoodlum had turned her head to look troubled Kren. Sensing in the dark, one kept one’s head facing forward. How could she see when there wasn’t any light?
He turned, took two steps back, ducked low, and felt a sword swinging above his body. His return blow was aimed to be just above the pelvic girdle, and he felt his sword go through the skin and heard the vertebrae sever, but then felt it stop before it was all the way out again. Not a perfect cut, but it was sufficient, having severed all of her major arteries.
Above the cries of the dying third one, the fourth mugger could be heard, running quickly in the opposite direction. Obviously, she had chosen the course of discretion.
Leaving the third one to bleed a bit, he went back to the first pair he had killed. Feeling around with his sword, he found one of the heads he’d removed from its body. Leaning his sword on top of the jaw, to keep it from biting him, he bent over and felt around the face. He found a pair of large and heavy goggles over the eyes.
Removing them, he stood up and put them on. He was startled to find that he could see. Not perfectly, for everything was in blue, black, and shades in between. The focus was poor, with things looking fuzzy. Faces, hands and feet looked much brighter than clothing, he could make out the footsteps where he and they had stepped. There seemed to be a strange slowness between the time he moved his hand before his face, and the time that he actually saw it move.
Nonetheless, with this device, one could see in the dark!
With the possibility of more such interesting objects in the offing, Kren carefully searched the three hoodlums he had killed. Besides two more pairs of goggles, there were dozens of other weapons, pouches, and objects.
Most interestingly, the first mugger he had killed had a pistol in a nicely tooled leather holster at her belt. Kren pulled it out and found that he knew precisely how it worked. The bits of brain he had eaten a few days before had been more useful than he had supposed.
It seemed that a swordsman’s normal desire to test his opponent had cost this mugger her life. She could easily have stood back and shot her supposed victim.
Kren was strongly tempted to take a shot with it, but then decided that the noise might attract unwanted attention. And perhaps it was a fear of the noise that had stopped the mugger from shooting him.
A further search of the body revealed four filled clips, and an additional box of ammunition. For now, he put it with the holster and the special belt into his book bag.
He managed to get most of his loot into his bag, and stuck the three new swords under his belt.
Thinking that the fourth mugger might be finding friends to counterattack with, he left as soon as possible. Still suffering from overeating, Kren felt no desire for food.
Walking down the tunnel, he came to a lighted section, and removed his goggles, placing them in his cloak above the outer belt. He soon encountered an old woman who begged him for money, saying that she was hungry.
She was thin and shaking, but her problems looked to be drugs, rather than hunger. Kren did not feel pity, but he did want the evidence of his last encounter to be eliminated.
“Go into that tunnel,” he said to her pointing. “Bring along a dozen of your friends, if you wish. You will find a feast there sufficient for all of you.”
She thanked him, and scurried down the dark tunnel alone.
On arriving at Bronki’s place, he went directly to his room through his back door. Looking in the mirror, he was annoyed to find that his brand new academic cloak had been slashed from shoulder to knee, save where his student belt had protected it. This had happened without his having even been aware of it.
He set down his book bag, dropped his student belt and cloak to the floor, put all four swords on his dresser, removed his inner sword belt, and lay down on the bed. It had been a difficult day, and he was tired.
Before he had fallen asleep, Dol came in.
“Is there anything that I can do for you, sir?”
“Yes. Take everything out of my book bag except for the books, and put it all into a drawer someplace. Take my cloak out and see if it can be repaired. Then go away. I am very tired.”