Chapter 18: Aderan’s Eddingburgton Market 

“What’s this for?” asked Jackson.

“Standard protocol. Tarza will make sure you get where you need to go. But before you do…” The Watchmaker motioned for Tarza to give them a moment. 

She grabbed the warp-port, checked her pocket watch, then left the room silently. Although time was of the essence, she was careful not to let the Watchmaker know that she was letting them talk begrudgingly, or even worse, grudgingly.

The Watchmaker reached into his drawer and put a clenched fist on the table.

“Jackson, the people of my planet thought me a fool for chasing Those in Charge. You see, we live hundreds, sometimes over a thousand, years, and they do not get wrapped up in the squabbles of the galaxies if they can help it. They feel it will all work out in the end.”

“And you?”

“I feel it only works out better if you work to make it better.”

Jackson nodded. He felt he was beginning to understand the Watchmaker.

“But there was one who supported me: my grandmother, the Clockmaker. And before I left, she gave me this.”

The Watchmaker opened his hand and revealed a brass pocket watch. It was simpler than Tarza’s. Simpler than any watch he’d ever seen, when Jackson thought about it. Just two silver hands on a brown background. There was an inscription on the back that Jackson couldn’t read from where he was sitting. 

“I want you to take it,” said the Watchmaker.

“No, but I–”

“I insist, and there’s no time for arguing. If you ever need help along your journey just remember to flip it. ” He placed the watch into Jackson’s hand just as Tarza opened the door again.

“Flip it?” asked Jackson.

“Flip it,” repeated the Watchmaker.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but we simply can’t wait any longer,” Tarza said. 

As Tarza pulled Jackson into the main room, he looked back at the Watchmaker, smiling in a way that seemed neither scared nor uncertain. 

Bandango Fazaar is a lawless place. While it’s true that it offers the most exotic, extra-extra-ordinary foods, pets, trinkets, treasures, inventions, and things from all corners of the universe (including the two hypothetical corners), it is also true that, should you visit it, and I certainly cannot advise that you do, you will be dealing with some of the most unsavory characters one can deal with. That is what happens when you visit a market outside the jurisdiction of the Rainbow Realm, especially one as infamous yet mysterious as the Bandango Fazaar. 

For a truly pleasurable market-shopping experience, you cannot beat Aderan’s finest market, located in Eddingburgton. Run in strict accordance with the rules and regulations of the Rainbow Realm, you can rest assured that your purchases are above board, and fully refundable. It is such a fine market that it’s even been rumored that members of TIC have shopped there themselves, though this is just a rumor and not a legally binding claim.

It is hard to imagine someone requesting, let alone getting, a refund from a merchant in Bandango Fazaar. Their stands, some half-underground, some on stilts, and some guarded by bouncers who most wouldn’t dare to even look at, are not frequented by the types who would ask for their money back politely. Nor are they run by the types of merchants who would take such a request kindly. No, when there is a disagreement in Bandango Fazzar, polite words and civil discourse are rarely part of the chosen solution. Simply put, it’s not the kind of place you want to find yourself for the first time without someone who knows their way around. 

When Jackson warped to a booth at the far end of Bandango Fazaar, he was immediately grateful to have Tarza and Dusty and Plod by his side. Feeling queasy from the trip, he gathered himself and moved aside the dusty, draped cloth that hid the booth. 

“This…,” he said, “is not Earth.”

“Of course it’s not!” said Tarza, looking annoyingly unaffected by their travel. “We can’t just warp there from Ridgea without risking giving away its location. Bandango Fazaar is the only place we can safely warp.”

Jackson looked around. “Safely?”

There were new aliens and buzzing lights and smoky food and dark corners and hypnotic colors and strange scents and secret whispers and it all seemed so dangerous and full of life and somehow exciting. 

Tarza looked to Plod.

“Where is it?” she asked.

“Two rows left. Seventeen booths up,” Plod answered.

“Follow me, Jackson. If we take a spaceship from here we should get there in just enough time for the debate,” she said.

“About the debate…”

“There’s no time for debate, Jackson!” she said firmly.

“But you just said there’s still time to make the debate.”

“No, there’s time for us to make the debate, but there is no time for us to debate about the debate,” she said, turning and making her way past the booths. 

Jackson followed.

“It’s very important that you don’t talk to anyone. Don’t wander off. And whatever you do, do not touch anything!” she added.

Jackson’s stomach gurgled, on cue. 

“Ok but, sooner or later I’m going to need to eat something, and some of this food smells pretty good actually, and I just really think I’ll be a much better debater if I don’t have an empty stomach.”

Tarza thought for a moment, then conceded. “That’s fair,” she said. “And I could use a bite myself. Here, come with me.”

The group made their way to a booth just one over from their path. It had a striped awning and an owner with a smile larger than Jackson’s whole head and a face wider than it was tall. There were steaming spirals sitting atop a counter, and pieces of something brown on sticks. Jackson didn’t know if he’d ever smelled anything better. 

“Tarza!” said the owner.

“Clema!” said Tarza.

“Been too long,” added Clema. “Haven’t seen you in ages. And good to see Dusty and Plod by your side again. What can I get for you?”

“Can we have two crumblets and two schwardets, please? My friend here has never tried either.”

Clema smiled and quickly wrapped up two of the spirals and two of the sticks. “If it’s his first time, then he needs to try the special sauce.” She pulled out a small bottle with a spout and covered both schwardets with a red sauce.

“Thanks! What do I owe you?” Tarza asked.

Clema rolled her eyes and waved her off. “You kidding me? Your money’s no good here. How ‘bout next time you find a tri-condigated spool cylinder, you bring it here first.”

“Count on it, Clema. And thanks again.” 

They walked back to their row and Jackson took his first bite.

There are just a few meals that Jackson truly, deeply remembers. The first was a bowl of ice cream that his mom gave him after getting into a scuffle with Arn Brule. It was Mint Chocolate Chip, and somehow it had made everything feel better. The second was a chipped ham sandwich that he bought for himself after securing the job of Personal Assistant to the Non-Personal Assistant to the Executive Assistant to the President of Earth. And the third was his meal at Bandango Fazaar. Each bite seemed better than the last. He got lost in joy as he finished the crumblet. He was brought almost to tears by the delectability of the schwardet. And for his last bite, he closed his eyes, and the stars in the sky seemed to shine brighter when he opened them. However, something else had changed as well when he opened them. He could no longer see Tarza, Dusty, or Plod. 

He looked around once. Then twice. Then a third and fourth time at once. They were gone. He decided that, although he had previously decided to no longer choose to do nothing when he was confused or scared, in this instance, the smartest thing for him to do really would be to do nothing, stay where he was, and wait for Tarza to find him. So that’s what he did, until a grey-haired alien with a wrinkly face and purple beard noticed him from behind a stand.

At first he spoke in a language that Jackson couldn’t understand. But then he put on a necklace with a geode ring at the bottom and spoke again.

“You there, come on in!” he said.

“Me?” 

“Yes, you!” he insisted.

“Oh I don’t think I should. My friends will be here any minute and–”

“They’ll see you in here. Besides, it’s safer to be shopping than standing in the open like that. Someone might try to swindle you out there,” said the alien with a grin.

Jackson had been noticing the looks he’d been getting. And more than once he found those looks from a passerby to be less than friendly. “What could it hurt,” he thought. And then thought about how that’s sometimes what people say before they do something they shouldn’t. But he decided that thinking it was not reason enough to not go into the shop, and made his way inside.