Alex Bell - Fighting with fire

For someone who put such a high premium on having a sharp mind, a quick tongue and always being one step ahead of everyone else, Lex stayed well away from drink and drugs of any kind. But Jeremiah once again seemed to misunderstand him, for he said, ‘Dear me, you are a stickler for the rules, aren’t you? I used to be like that? terrified of breaking a rule and getting into trouble. Don’t worry. You’ll grow out of it in time.’

‘I’m not scared of breaking the rules-’ Lex began at once, rather heatedly for the very suggestion couldn’t have been any further from the truth. If he wanted to drink alcohol then he most certainly would? rules be damned. It was mere coincidence that his own preference happened to coincide with the rules just this once.

‘Well, a pint of Grandy then,’ Jeremiah interrupted, in such a jovial voice that Lex had to refrain from his protests because to continue them would appear churlish. ‘You can still drink with me and the lads if you just stick to the soft stuff.’

And Lex found himself being manoeuvred into the tavern that was attached to the Town Hall. Well, what could it hurt? The feast wasn’t due to start for another hour. He had told Jesse where and when he had to be there and he was sure the cowboy would turn up because there was going to be food and he knew that Lex could force them to switch if he wanted to, just by biting into the nearest pork pie. Besides which, a cowboy never passes up the chance of free food. When they went into the building, the hall was on their right and the tavern on their left. As they walked past the doorway Lex noticed that the hall was already set up for the feast? with rows of long tables lining the huge room and colourful bunting hanging from the walls and the ceiling.

‘My friends were going to meet me here,’ Jeremiah said as they walked into the tavern. ‘Oh, yes, there they are at the back.’

The feast was invitation only? so that just the important people would be there and not any plebs gobbling up the free food and drink. It seemed that quite a lot of people had had the same idea as Jeremiah and his friends, to come to the tavern for a couple of drinks first, for the place seemed to be stuffed with city officials and lawyers and important men who were no doubt all on the guest list. Jeremiah bought a round at the bar and then they went to the table at the back where he introduced Lex to his five friends. Lex could hardly tell them apart for they were all tall, dark and handsome with names like Jones and Smith, and they all persisted in calling each other things like Jonesy and Smithy and Williamsy and Easty. It was quite baffling to Lex who, of course, had not been privately and expensively educated at the prestigious Academy.

‘What are you drinking, Trenty?’ one of the friends asked, peering at the pint of Grandy with a puzzled expression.

‘Don’t call me Trenty,’ Lex said.

‘He’s having a pint of Grandy, poor boy,’ Jeremiah said, thumping Lex on the back so hard that his face almost ended up in his drink. ‘He’s not eighteen yet.’

‘You don’t say?’ One of the friends? Lex thought it was Jonesy? practically goggled at him in astonishment. ‘I didn’t realise they let children play in the Games!’

Lex stared at him. With a tremendous effort of will he just about managed not to hurl his Grandy in the twit’s face. ‘I am seventeen years old,’ he said coldly. ‘In the last Game I defeated a minotaur and a medusa simultaneously; I became a king? my name is on the Royal Monument in the square out there; I went on to the Space Ladders; I saw an underworld pass by with my own eyes; I went down to the Lands Beneath and? at the end of it all — I won the bloody thing!’

Lex felt extremely vexed. There was something most undignified about having to tout his own victories in such a way. Usually, whenever anyone said anything to him about the previous Game, Lex made a great show of being modest about it. ‘It was nothing,’ was his usual response. But he was only going to say that if the person he was speaking to knew full well that it was quite far from nothing. Modesty only worked when people knew just how splendid he really was. And these nobles didn’t seem to have the faintest clue.

‘You did follow the last Game, didn’t you?’ he said.

‘On and off,’ Jeremiah said. ‘But we had studying to do, too, you know. After all, we are Academy educated.’

‘Well, some people have to bother about things like that I suppose,’ Lex said.

The root of the problem was that Jeremiah and his friends seemed like stuck-up snobs to Lex, and Lex seemed like an irritable little upstart to them.

It was Jeremiah who came up with the brainwave of spiking Lex’s drink.

‘Take him down a peg or two, eh?’ he said to Jonesy when they were getting another round at the bar. ‘Do him the world of good.’

Perhaps it was because Lex had never drunk before, perhaps it was because he hadn’t eaten much that day or perhaps it was simply because he was so skinny… whatever the reason, it turned out to be an unfortunate fact that Lex could not hold his drink. It went straight to his head. One minute he was sitting there feeling quite normal, the next he was slurring his words and talking in a much louder voice that he would normally. He was hardly aware of this himself, although he did notice that the others seemed to have distinctly warmed to him and they were now all having rather a good time when they hadn’t been getting on at all well before.

The really unfortunate thing about it, though, was that, when each of Jeremiah’s friends went up to buy their rounds, they too thought it would be a splendid idea to add a little something to Lex’s drink. By the time an hour was up, he was thoroughly drunk and just trying to get his muddled head around why he wasn’t feeling normal when someone tapped him on the shoulder and he looked round into a familiar face.

Mr Montgomery Schmidt, through a series of unfortunate mishaps, had been Lex’s companion in the last Game. He was a tall, thin old lawyer with the sense of humour of a dead mollusc. He certainly did not look at all amused right now as he addressed the table with his sternest expression.

‘You reprobates! You ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves!’ He pointed at Smithy and said, ‘I saw you, young man, not a moment ago spiking that drink at the bar. Don’t drink it, Lex.’

‘ You spiked his drink?’ the others all said at the same time, then they grinned foolishly at each other as they realised what must have happened.

‘You mean to say that you have all…’ Schmidt trailed off, horrified. ‘Good heavens, the feast is due to start any minute! Come along, Lex, you’d better get some fresh air-’

‘I don’t need your help,’ Lex said, waving the lawyer’s hand away. ‘And I’m not drunk.’

He stood up to prove his point but that instantly made him feel ten times worse. His head spun, the room tilted, he lost his balance and staggered. Instinctively, he reached out to stop himself from falling but only succeeded in dragging a whole table down with him in a spectacular crashing and rolling of tankards.

Oh my Gods, he thought, face down in spilt beer. I really am drunk!

It was even worse than he had imagined it would be. No quick thoughts were coming into his head; no snappy comebacks were presenting themselves in his mind; no brilliant, genius plans were clamouring for his attention. This must be what normal people felt like all the time! He was dimly aware of Jeremiah and his friends cheering and clapping behind him like this was all some huge joke. Schmidt grasped Lex’s collar and dragged him upright as Jeremiah and the others got up and made their way to the hall, still laughing heartily.

‘You’ve got to go in, Lex,’ Schmidt was saying urgently. ‘The feast is about to begin. Where’s your companion?’