D. MacHale - The Lost City of Faar

“Agronomers,” Uncle Press said. “I think they’re the only people around here who ever get stressed.”

“How come?” I asked.

“It’s their show. Grallion is about farming and if Grallion doesn’t produce, then they’re not doing their job.”

I looked again at the agronomers, but now with respect. That’s got to be some kind of serious pressure. If they fail, people don’t eat.

“Press!” someone called out above the din. “What kept you? I thought you got into another natty-do with the sharkies!”

It was Spader. He had beaten us there. He sat on the bar, surrounded by a few other people who were laughing and drinking with him.

Uncle Press strode right up to the group.

“I thought you were in for a tum-tigger with Yenza!” exclaimed Press.

Sheesh, we’d just gotten here and Uncle Press was already picking up on the local jargon. I figured I’d better keep on my toes.

“Me?” laughed Spader with huge bravado. “Now why would dear Yenza have a row with me? I fill her life with happiness and joy!” He then added slyly, “And besides, I think she fancies me. If she were to kick me off Grallion, she’d die of a broken heart.”

Everyone laughed at Spader’s high praise of himself, but it was a friendly laugh. They knew Spader was joking. It was all just a goof.

“The chances of Wu Yenza dying of heartache over the sorry likes of you,” shouted one guy jovially, “is about the same as old Grolo running out of sniggers.”

Everyone hooted in mock horror. A quick look around showed me that everyone was drinking from clear mugs that were filled with a deep red liquid that I figured was the legendary sniggers. Spader leaned back over the bar and grabbed the handle of the tap that I assumed was where they drew the sniggers. He pretended to pull it, and his eyes went wide with shock.

“Empty!” he shouted in overblown horror. “Hobey-ho, he’s run out of sniggers! Yenzadoesfancy me!”

Everybody laughed. A heavyset guy behind the bar, who must have been Grolo, playfully shoved Spader away from the tap.

“Don’t go startin’ rumors,” he said, laughing, “or it’ll be up to you to stop the riot!”

Spader laughed and rolled away. Grolo grabbed the tap and drew another mug of the frothy red liquid. Everyone was having a great time and Spader was the reason. He was the center of attention and he didn’t disappoint those who wanted him to keep the party rolling. He grabbed a mug of sniggers and exclaimed, “So where is he, Press?”

“Standing right here, watching the show,” answered Uncle Press.

Who were they talking about? Spader handed Press the mug of sniggers and quickly glanced around. In a second his eyes settled on me. Uh-oh. He was talking about me. I was sure that he had already told the story about how I got tangled up in the water sled and had to be rescued. I wanted to crawl away and hide. If I was going to live on Grallion, I didn’t want people to think that I was a total loser. For a second I thought of turning and running, but that would have made it worse. No, I was going to have to face the ridicule. I could only hope that it would be fast.

“That’s the guy!” shouted Spader.

All eyes turned to me. The best I could do was stand there and take it. I thought that maybe I could come up with something clever to make it all a joke. But my mind locked. I couldn’t come up with anything funny about what had happened. My sore ribs and aching shoulder were a painful reminder of that.

“If it weren’t for him,” began Spader, “Press would be shark meat.”

Huh? I looked to Uncle Press. He raised his mug of sniggers at me and winked.

“Press was trapped under the shelf,” said Spader, spinning a dramatic tale that had everyone enthralled. “The nasty wog-glie was nosing in on him. He was a big ‘un, mind you. But then Pendragon here came flying by with the water sled. With no fear for himself, he distracted the beggar and gave Press the chance to slip away. Bravest thing I ever saw. Of course, I was lucky enough to be in the right place to put the finishing touches on the big wogglie myself.”

He added this last bit with false modesty and everyone responded with hoots, like they didn’t think he deserved any credit at all. No, in their minds, the real hero was me! I couldn’t believe it. Suddenly, a mug of sniggers was thrust into my hand.

“To Pendragon!” shouted Spader. He raised his mug in a toast. Everyone else around the bar raised their mugs toward me as well. Uncle Press did too, with a huge smile on his face.

“Welcome to Grallion!” added Spader.

“Hobey-ho ho!” chimed everyone else as they raised their mugs to drink in my honor.

I couldn’t believe it. Talk about snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, no pun intended. Of course, I felt a little guilty. It didn’t exactly happen the way Spader described it. But still, it was sort of the truth. I looked to Spader and he gave me a little smile that told me he knew it was only sort of the truth too. But it didn’t matter to him. He motioned for me to take a drink of sniggers, and I did.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had tasted beer once before and I guess that’s what I thought it would be like, but it wasn’t. That was a good thing because I hated the taste of beer. To be honest, the first taste of sniggers that hit my tongue was totally nasty. It was like drinking carbonated cabbage juice. But in an instant the sour taste went away and what I was left with was an incredibly sweet sensation that actually left my mouth tingling. I once had this soda in Maine called Moxie. When Moxie first hits your tongue it tastes sweet, but after you swallow it leaves a nasty, bitter taste. This sniggers stuff was like reverse-Moxie. The first taste was foul, but it immediately went away and left a wonderful memory that lingered until your next sip. I liked this stuff! Hobey-ho ho!

“Put these on my tab, Grolo!” announced Spader as he jumped off the bar. “I’ve got business with my friends.”

“You don’t have a tab, Spader,” barked Grolo.

“Then start one for me!” Spader shot back with bravura.

Grolo waved him off with a mock disgusted gesture. I didn’t think he minded giving away a few pints of sniggers to Spader. The aquaneer was the life of the party here at the tavern. The more stories he told, the more everyone else drank sniggers. Spader was good for business. He put an arm around Uncle Press, his other arm around me, and led us away from the group toward the front door.

But when we reached the table of agronomers, he suddenly stopped and turned us to them. The scientists stopped their work and looked up to us expectantly.

“We just want you mates to know,” said Spader, “we think you are doing a bang-up job. Really.”

The scientists didn’t know how to react. They just sat there and stared at us.

“Now get back to work!” snapped Spader and led us toward the door. As we walked he whispered to us, “Scientists. They’re brilliant but easily confused.”

We blasted out of Grolo’s into the sunlight, laughing.

I really liked this guy. But even though I was grateful for his story back there, I couldn’t let it go without saying something.

“That story you told about me,” I said. “You know that wasn’t really how it happened.”

“Says who?” Spader shot back. “That’s how I saw it. There’s always two ways of looking at things, Pendragon. In my few short years I learned that seeing what’s positive about a situation is a lot more fun and gets you a lot further than looking for what might be wrong with it. That’s my philosophy, for what it’s worth.”

Spader may not have been a wise old soul, but what he said made a whole lot of sense. I didn’t think I had ever met anyone who was as full of energy and fun as this guy was. Without trying all that hard, he made you feel good. I could tell Spader had even gotten to Uncle Press. He said that Cloral was his favorite territory. I’m sure there were a lot of reasons for that, but I’m guessing Spader was a big one. It was fun to be around him. Over the next few weeks I learned a lot more about Vo Spader, and all of it was good.