I thought I might cross in front of the dais toward Deborah Messenger.

But before I got that far, the cluster at the table broke up, leaving Rasmussen alone with one of the microphones. She didn't look like she was about to use it, however, so I deflected myself in her direction.

Presuming on my exalted status, I ascended to the head table. I still needed a lot of general information.

The Master of Ceremonies was a short blonde with flouncing hair and a scrubbed and open cheerleader's face. Her confident demeanor suggested that she could chat happily with total strangers during a nuclear holocaust. Nevertheless something about her conveyed the sense that she'd disappeared into her blazer that Sue Rasmussen in other clothes would be a different person entirely.

She smiled like a flashbulb as I strolled toward her, but I didn't take it personally.

"Time to start, Ms. Rasmussen?" I asked. Just breaking the ice. The dais was the perfect vantage point. I could watch the events as well as the crowd. Once I adjusted to the tournament's rhythms, the particular ebb and flow of its manufactured tensions, I could spot disturbances from here better than anywhere else.

Being a dignitary had its advantages.

Sue Rasmussen shook her head.

"Not yet. Registration is still hard at work. I won't go on duty for another ten or fifteen minutes."

I took that as permission to ask her questions. Gesturing out at the hall, I inquired, "This is as busy as it gets?"

Widening her eyes, she pretended to be shocked.

"No way." Then she lowered her voice.

"We don't usually admit it, but we schedule the less popular events on Friday. Too many people aren't free until the weekend. So we do kids and color belts, since their parents and instructors are the only ones who pay attention anyway. And all the katame, which " "

"Katame'?" I interrupted.

"Grappling," she explained easily.

"Some of the best techniques in the world are joint locks and throws, but even at their best they're hard to see from the stands.

"Of course" she laughed politely, her hair bouncing "if we didn't have any crowd-pleasers today, no one would come. At least not until the Bill Wallace demonstration this evening. And we need judges. So we'll do most of the team kumite sorry, sparring this afternoon, and finish the color belts before we start the brown belts tomorrow morning.

"Still," she admitted, "the real crowds won't be here until Saturday and Sunday. That's when we'll hold the black belt events. And the Masters'."

I nodded like I understood.

"So team sparring is popular." Why wasn't I surprised? Garner seemed to have a bottomless appetite for watching people in pads thump each other.

"What else?"

"Well, the demonstrations, naturally." As she went on, she sounded more and more like a cheerleader. Maybe she got off on wearing that blazer.

"Bill Wallace is famous. They call him "Superfoot' you'll see why.

Benny Urquidez could probably out point a tiger. And Demura sensei trains his students beautifully.

"Then there's individual sparring. Black belt kata I mean forms. And the Masters' divisions. Don't miss them, they're really impressive.

Kata and kobudo, weapons. And then the finals, the grand championships. You won't see kata and kumite like that anywhere else.

Sunday night this place is going to rock."

That sounded like my cue to burst into applause, but I didn't. Instead I remarked, "I wonder why. What's it all for?" All this sanitized violence?

"Why do you do it?"

I guess my cynicism showed. Her manner stiffened.

"Don't dismiss it until you've seen it, Mr. " Her voice trailed off.

She'd obviously forgotten my name.

"Axbrewder," I supplied.

"Mr. Axbrewder." The cheerleader was gone. Now she sounded like an indignant schoolmarm.

"This is part of any martial artist's education. We'll see an extraordinary display of knowledge and expertise. And competing here brings people as close as possible to testing themselves in real life.

We keep it safe, Mr. Axbrewder, but we put on as much pressure as we can. If martial artists don't know how they react to stress, they can't learn to deal with it."

She was actually better looking when she got pissed off. If she tried to deck me, she might be downright beautiful.

I kept at her.

"You make it sound like altruism, Ms. Rasmus-sen. Surely that's not all the IAMA is interested in?"

The blazer at the laptop flicked a quick glare at me like I'd insulted his mother. Then he turned back to his LCD.

Rasmussen's tone froze.

"No, of course not." Apparently she'd just written me off her Christmas list.

"We're also here to promote the martial arts in general, and the IAMA in particular.

"But," she insisted, "this isn't about money." She said the word like it tasted bad.

"Everyone who works here is a volunteer. And I assure you, we wouldn't do it if it weren't worth doing for its own sake. The martial arts are good for people, Mr. Axbrewder. If we want to share the benefits, we have to grow."

"Excuse me." Dismissing me, she turned back to her paperwork and the microphone.

"We'll be starting soon. I need to get ready."

Some days I could take a hint.

"Thanks for your time." I bowed insincerely.

"You've been very helpful." Then I crossed the dais and stepped down to the main floor.

Under other circumstances, I might've asked her, Good for people? What the hell's that supposed to mean? But at the moment I was more curious about why she sounded defensive when she mentioned money.

Unfortunately I'd spent too much time talking to her. While I was on the dais, the Watchdog people had disappeared. I couldn't believe that Posten didn't plan to attend the tournament. If I was right about him, he'd want to defend the chops with his personal vigilance. But maybe a Security Associate's job didn't involve standing around for days while nothing happened. Maybe I wouldn't see Deborah Messenger again.

Well, drat. She'd caught my interest in ways that I hadn't felt for a long time.

But there was nothing I could do about it, so I decided to look for Bernie. I wanted to know what he'd say if I spent most of my time up on the dais, acting exalted. And I could always think of more questions for him.