“Can Dummy come?” Grimbledung asked hopefully. “He never gets to leave the store.”
“He stays in the store.” Drimblerod said emphatically. “It’s bad enough we’ve got brooms at Nulu and now Pozzuoli’s place, AND that crazy sign talking up every adventurer that comes by. How I ever let you talk me into that scheme I’ll never know. We need to keep a low profile with the Mechanimation. I’m telling you, you don’t want to have to deal with the Magicians Guild.” He shuddered involuntarily. “Ever. Those Magicians are ruthless!”
Grimbledung sighed loudly. “All right. The last thing I want to do is cause some sort of trouble.”
Just then the door clattered open and the bell jingled. Two cloaked figures walked in. Their cloaks were gaudy patchworks of colors with bright stars and moons of different sizes sewn on them. Though their heads were covered for ambiguity, their cloaks would easily have been spotted in a full-on siege of a castle from a league away. Drimblerod blanched as his caught sight of them. His knees buckled and he dropped from sight below the counter. The figures turned to watch the door close behind them and did not see him do it. They conversed in hushed tones still watching the now closed door. It rattled self-consciously. Grimbledung was torn between watching the two mysterious and yet flamboyantly dressed figures and his partner on the floor in a heap. Drimblerod looked up and held a finger to his lips. His eyes were wide with terror.
“Are you the propriethor of this esthablishment?” Asked the shorter of the two figures haughtily.
Grimbledung examined them. They could have been Elves but were most likely short Humans. Or really tall Dwarfs. Possibly short, famished Orcs, he considered. Of course, the accent was not Orcish at all. In fact, he was unable to place it even though he was sure he had heard it before.
“You awake?” The man said as he snapped his fingers several times.
Grimbledung snapped his fingers back without realizing it. It was at the bathhouse! That’s where he had heard the accent before. It was from the Eunuchs working the Ladies Baths. He snorted. It had been ages since he had been to the Baths. Maybe that’s what he needed- a day at the Baths, and a night of carousing. Or maybe the other way around. He considered the pros and cons of both courses of action. Grimbledung was pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of someone tugging on his pant leg. He looked down and Drimblerod was still holding his pant leg with one hand and was furiously waving the other.
“You awake?” Said the man testily. “Whaths the matter with you?” He asked in the same tone.
“Greetings!” Said Grimbledung. “Welcome to the shop. Please feel free to peruse the merchandise.” He gestured with both hands.
The figures stood rock still, examining Grimbledung for a full minute. “Do you speak Common?” Asked the taller figure. “Or just Gnomish” he asked. The way he said ‘Gnomish’ sounded like he had had an entire murder of crows take up residence in his mouth.[15]
“What?” Asked Grimbledung, smile fading from his face. “ ‘Course I speak Common. What do you take me for?” There was more frantic tugging at his pant leg but he didn’t look down. His attention was wholly on the taller of the two figures. He narrowed his eyes menacingly.
The taller figure stepped back. “We’re not looking for trouble, Gnome.” This time when he said it, a Batch of Brownies may have moved into his mouth.[16] He even wrenched up his face as if the Brownies had been whipping up some Grub Flambé while they were there.
“Then I think you should go someplace else, because trouble is what’s on sale today.” Grimbledung said flatly. He did not try to hide the motion and the two figures followed his hand as it went from the counter to disappear in his sleeve. “It’s a two for one special we’re having.” He growled, hoping it would have the same effect as when Akita did it. His hand remained up his sleeve.
The shorter of the two looked up and met eyes (figuratively) with Grimbledung. “Listhen, Gnome,” he began. Nothing seemed to reside in this one’s mouth as he said it but even so, it came out as an insult. “We are here on offithial business.” He straightened up and pulled his hood back in a flourish. “We’re from the Magithian’s Guild and we’ve got some questhions for you.” He said once again testily. It seemed to be his go-to tone.
Humans thought Grimbledung as he examined the older man in front of him. He was balding with more hair on his brow than on his head. There was also a great deal of hair protruding from his ears. A Gnome would be proud to have that much hair on and in their ears.
He considered what the Human had said. “You’re a Magithian? What’s that?” He asked. He had heard of Magi’s, Magistrates, and even Magicians, but never a Magithian. It sounded like some sort of creature that lived deep in the sea. “Isn’t that a creature that lives deep in the sea?”
“That’s a Leviathan,” said the taller one as he too pulled back his hood. When he said ‘leviathan’ it seemed that there was a school of overfed blowfish swimming around inside his mouth. This Human was also bald but only on one side of his head. He was also missing his eyebrow on the bald side. There was no scarring but his face was pink. “What’s the matter with you?” He demanded.
“The problem is that I like Humankind, it’s people I can’t stand,” said Grimbledung, “people like you.” It seemed like something had taken up residence in his mouth as well. Apparently the condition was contagious. “Especially people like you. So why don’t you just go.” Grimbledung pointed at the door. “Away,” he said with quite a degree of finality. “We’re closed as of right now.” He slid his hand out of his sleeve and his wand right along with it.” There was furious tugging at his leg. He didn’t bother to look down.
“We’re here on offithial business!” Said the shorter one again, “and you will listhen to us if you know what’s good for you.”
“I sure do. Ale.”
“What?” Asked the man, more confused than testy. It was unusual territory for him when being testy.
“Ale is good for me. And you don’t look like you’re selling Ale, Magi Thian.” Grimbledung glowered. He tapped the end of the wand on the counter as he spoke. Tiny sparks flew from it every time it hit.
“We’re from the Magician’s Guild” said the taller man angrily. “And you’ll be smart to not give us any grief.” He stepped forward, his wand in his hand in a flash. Grimbledung looked at the magician’s wand. It was not tapered like normal wands- it was a solid tube from hilt to tip. It was also colored a glossy black, which would have been menacing if a finger’s width at each end weren’t painted a bright white. “We’re representatives of the Magician’s Guild and have the FULL power of the ...”
Grimbledung jabbed his wand at the man. The man’s wand clattered noisily to the floor of the shop as the man disappeared from under his Official Magician’s Guild Enforcer Cloak®. There was no smoke, no dust, and no smell of disintegration. It was as if the man had never been there in the first place. The Anti-Magic enchantment on the cloak had protected it but the blast had caught the man square in the chest where there was nothing to protect him.
“Oooohhh! What have you done? Oooohhh! Now you’re in for it!” Screamed the shorter man. “You will reap the full power of the Magithian’s Guild now!” He fumbled in his cloak. “Ooohhh you’re going to get it!” He continued to fumble. “Ohhh justh you wait! You’ll thee!”
“While you’re looking” began Grimbledung, he raised his wand. He had a difficult time aiming because of the tugging on his leg. He felt as if it were in the mouth of a crocodile.
“Ah ha!” Said the man triumphantly, “thith will show you who YOU’RE dealing with. Prepare to be thorry AND amathed as I now perform the ...”
As his body swayed back to line up with the Magician, Grimbledung slashed his wand at the man. His wand also clattered to the floor beside his cloak. As his wand hit, it emitted a puff of smoke and a dove flew up out of the cloud. Door dutifully opened and let it fly out into the blue Aution sky.
Drimblerod let go of Grimbledung’s leg an
d hopped up. He grabbed his partner by both shoulders and shook him violently. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?” He screamed. “You know what will happen when the Guild finds out we killed two of their Enforcers? When they find out YOU killed two Enforcers?” Drimblerod looked ill. He reached for the counter to steady himself and missed it. He staggered backwards and sat roughly. His face was covered in sweat and his arms trembled. “What have you done?” He asked again meekly.
Grimbledung looked down at his partner. “Do you want a stool?” He asked.
Drimblerod shook his head. The room spun around him and he swooned.
Visions of a year bedridden as he was fed soft foods flashed before his eyes. A year without bones. Now he was on his back writhing and moaning.
“How about a drink of water?” Offered Grimbledung. Just then the bell on the door sounded. Grimbledung looked up and saw Nulu walk in. “Nulu! Get some water. Drimblerod’s having a fit!”
“What? Drimblerod is having a fit?” She asked incredulously. Nulu moved quickly to the counter and peered over it. Drimblerod was now on his side, legs curled up to his chest. He was still moaning and while the twitches had stopped, he was now drooling. “What did you do to him?” demanded Nulu.
Grimbledung raised his hands in defense. “Not a thing!” He realized he was still holding his wand which was smoldering. He quickly shoved it up his sleeve into his arm sheath. He winced as it singed his arm. “I was being helpful. Minding my own business. Not doing nothing to nobody, when all of a sudden current events happened right around me. Same as always. Except this time, I was being helpful too.”
“Helpful. He was helpful. Helpful” Drimblerod muttered. The twitching began anew. “Helpful.”
“See?” Said Grimbledung pointing at the Gnome. “Even Drimblerod agrees!”
Nulu shook her head. “I don’t think that is agreeing. I think that is babbling.”
Chapter Twenty Eight and a Half
Wherein Semfeld and Liverioso
Deal With Their Fate
...Poorly
“Magicians Guild behind us and ... and ...” Semfeld realized he was no longer in the wand shop. As far as he could tell he wasn’t anywhere. In front of him, flat sands met blue cloudless skies. He turned in a small circle and surveyed his surroundings. He may as well have kept looking straight ahead because the scenery was the same in all directions- flattened sand dunes meeting blue sky. He looked up and noticed with more than a little bit of worry, that the sun was directly overhead. It was more than just overhead. It was looming overhead. It was blazing overhead. Pounding heat down upon him, overhead.
OVERHEAD.
Semfeld felt penned in by the blast of the sun and heat. On all sides it pressed in on him. Even from below. He pulled his shirt off and stood on it. Even through his shirt he could feel the heat of the morning’s baking seeping through. He looked up again at the sun. It glared at him with the same hot hatred as that vile little Gnome had. Except now instead of glaring back, he was sweating. There was a substantial river of sweat beginning to flow down his face, and from what he could tell, it had somehow found its way to the middle of his back and continued down from there.
Semfeld sat down on his shirt and began what he believed were going to be his last few hours of existence with as much dignity as an Official Enforcer of the Magician’s Guild could muster. Semfeld began to cry.
“Never before duplicated Dithapearing Bones Trick ...” Continued Liverioso. “Wait. Thith isn’t right,” he protested. He squinted into the distance. “Thith isn’t right!” He shouted at the sand meeting the sky, miles in the distance. Hearing sobbing, he turned quickly. “Themfeld! Whath’s going on?”
Semfeld looked up from his sobbing, tears still running down his face. “We’re going to die right here.” He pointed at his shirt under him. “I’m going to die right here. You should find a place of your own.” He wiped a tear from his face. “Want to sit and die with me?”
Liverioso glowered at his friend. “Nonthense! How can WE die? You’re the Athtounding Themfeld and I’m the Mysterious Liveriotho.” Liverioso’s inability to pronounce his own stage name had caused quite a stir within the Guild. There had been rumors that the lisp was a part of Liverioso’s act that had somehow gotten out of hand and he now affected all his speech with it. Other’s thought it was some sort of curse. Either way, it was only after threat of being kicked out of the Magician’s Guild that it was discovered that he was completely unaware that he even had a lisp. ‘What do you mean I can’t pronounth my own name?’ was his entire argument to suggestions that he become the Great Earl instead of Mysterious Liverioso. After careful consultation of ancient texts and Guild Bylaws, it was decided (by a healthy majority) that Liverioso was, in fact, an idiot. This judgment guaranteed he would also be added to the ranks of the Magician’s Guild Enforcers. “Thay, ith’s hot out here.” He looked around. “Where are we?”
Semfeld looked to the sun, which was still beating down on him as if it were an entire gross of Ogres wielding flaming morning stars.[17] “If I were to make a guess, I’d say we’re in the Great Sandy Desert east of the Kingdom of Pictistan, south of Orcistan. Really far south of Orcistan”
“Why are all of theth places called something-Thtan? I never underthood that” remarked Liverioso.
“Stan means ‘not flat’. If you go far enough, there’s mountains pretty much all around us,” answered Semfeld. He became upset, “Who cares WHAT this place is called? Soon this place will be called Where Liverioso and Semfeld Died!” He rubbed his hands together, “Of course, no one will call it that because no one will know we even died out here!” Tears once again began to run down his face.
“I don’t like Pics. Think we’ll thee any Pics?”
“No, I don’t think Pic caravans come this deep into the desert. No one does,” he said testily.
Liverioso looked down at his partner then to the horizon and then back at his partner. “How can you be thure thith is the Thandy Dethert?”
“WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE which DESERT WE ARE IN?” Howled Semfeld. He got to his feet and picked up his shirt. “I’m leaving! I refuse to die next to you!” He began to walk away.
“Wait! Don’t leave me here!” Liverioso begged as he moved to catch up with his partner. “We need to think together if we’re going to get out of here.” He moved to walk beside his partner. A worried look came across his face. “Right?”
Semfeld stopped and faced his partner. “Do you have your wand?” He asked. His tears flowed freely now.
“No.”
“Neither do I.” Semfeld wiped a tear from his eye. His cheeks were streaked where the sand had blown and stuck to the trails of tears and sweat on his face. He held up his hand and ticked off fingers as he spoke, “So we’re out here with no wands, no transportation, no food, no water, no way to call for help,” he switched to his other hand when he ran out of fingers, “no compass, no map, no idea where we are, and to top it all off, no shade.”
Liverioso thought for a moment. “You said you knew where we were,” he countered. “So that means we don’t need a map.” He snapped his fingers. “Hah!”
“Hah? If we’re in the middle of the Great Sandy Desert, and on foot, we’re weeks away from anyone and anything.” Semfeld held up his hand and waggled his fingers. “There’s still a whole hand of things we really need.” He held up his other hand and wiggled a finger, “And there’s still the little mater of not having any shade.”
“We thtill have each other.”
Semfeld jumped on his partner knocking him to the ground. “What good does that do us?” Every time he said a word, Semfeld hit his partner’s head against the sand. “We are still going to die!”
Even though the sand was fairly soft, Liverioso saw spots in front of his eyes, “Thop that! You’re going to kill me!”
“We are both going to die anyway. You might as well go first!” Semfeld continued to accent his yelling by hitting Liverioso’s head on the sand, although not wit
h every word. The heat was getting to him. “You lisping buffoon!”
“Hey now” countered Liverioso, “thath’s getting perthonal.” Although he did not think he had a lisp, he had accepted the fact that most people thought he did. He considered it a widespread delusion.
“I agree.”
“Yeah! Thee? He agreeths too,” agreed Liverioso.
Semfeld looked over his shoulder. The sun was blocked out by a wrinkled face. The haggard, wrinkled face was attached to a haggard, wrinkled man dressed in rags. Semfeld let go of his partner and scrambled to his feet. “Who in all the Blue Blazing Lands are you?” He grabbed the wiry man by the shoulders and shook him. “Are you a mirage?”
The man slapped Semfeld’s face. “Get a hold of yourself. And let go of me.” He shrugged out of Semfeld’s grip and took several steps back. “What are you two doing here?”
Liverioso stood. “Whath are you doing here?” He demanded as his haughtiness returned since he now had a target for it.
“I live here, of course.” The man said matter-of-factly as he turned to leave.
“Live here?” Asked Semfeld. “Why would you live here?” He looked around and still saw nothing except sand and blue sky in all directions. “Where did you even come from?” He called to the man’s back. “Here?”
The old man trudged along. “You deal with what’s dealt to you,” he called over his shoulder. He moved at a slow and steady shuffle so he had not moved very far. “I was banished here by the Magician’s Guild because I was behind on my dues and still doing Gigs.
The Magician’s Guild had worked long and hard on finding an appropriate way to describe their work. For a long time, it was referred to simply as ‘Doing a Gig’ but there were those that felt that did not convey the grandeur that was the life of a Magician and hurt recruitment efforts. At several meetings (and one Jamboree), ‘Performing’ was suggested, but the Mime Guild put an end to that (one just did not cross the Mime Guild). Due to ominous threats from the Wizarding Guild, ‘working Magic’ was also dropped from the list of contenders. After one extremely late running meeting, where everyone was hoping someone would make a motion to adjourn, a lone Magician suggested ‘Practicing the Trade’- he even suggested the capitalization to add emphasis. Another Magician, who was not paying attention, thought that a motion to adjourn had been made, so he quickly seconded it. The President of the Magician’s Guild (local 232) also was not paying attention (it was a very long meeting) and announced that the motion carried. Everyone left, grateful that the meeting was finally over. It was not until the next meeting when the minutes were read that it was discovered that ‘Practicing the Trade’ was the new approved phrase to use. That had happened over six years ago.
They Were The Best of Gnomes, They Were The Worst of Gnomes (Tales From a Second-Hand Wand Shop Book 1) Page 18
