“What, then,” questioned Treneth, “would you say could be a wise move to garner some favor from Master Pecklesworthy?”
Rimpertuz pursed his lips. He began pacing and mumbling as well, stepping repeatedly on the loose floorboard in the process. Treneth allowed this to continue for a while before deciding to offer some assistance.
“It is the man’s birthday.”
“A gift!”
“A gift, you say? Hmmm, that’s rather ingenious, my apprentice.”
“It is? Yes, I mean…yes, that’s right. Ingenious.”
“What kind of gift, though?” Treneth tapped his desk. “I wouldn’t want to influence your decisions here.”
“It’s okay, sir. What should I get him?”
“No, really, I don’t want to get involved with your quest. Unless, of course, you are asking me because it is part of your quest. That would be a different matter entirely.”
Rimpertuz pulled out a little notebook and began fishing around for a writing instrument. Treneth withheld a sigh, opened his desk drawer, and grabbed one of his own. He handed it to his apprentice.
“Sir,” Rimpertuz said formally. “I am, um, doing a quest on my own.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir. That’s okay, right? I mean you were saying that I should—”
“It’s fine, Rimpertuz,” Treneth responded, almost feeling sad for how dimwitted the man could be. “I’m just happy to see you taking some initiative.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rimpertuz was beaming. “Um, I was wondering if you knew what a good gift may be for Master Pinkelhurley.”
“It’s Pecklesworthy,” Treneth said, spelling it out as Rimpertuz wrote. “I suppose a box of cigars would be nice. Hmmm, no, I don’t believe he smokes cigars.” Treneth crossed his fingers and looked off in mock-thought. “A new pair of slippers is always a useful gift, but that could come across as a bit too personal.” Treneth continued the play as Rimpertuz was writing and then scratching out idea after idea. Once Rimpertuz had gotten to page three, Treneth felt it was time to drop a solid hint. “I guess the obvious one would be his magical source. Every wizard is in constant need of that store.”
A moment or two passed.
“Do you happen to know Master Pickleherpie’s magic source, sir? That may be a good gift, yes?”
“It’s Pecklesworthy, and that is an inspired idea, Rimpertuz.”
Rimpertuz puffed out his chest. “I once heard that every wizard is in constant need of their magical store, sir.”
“Just recently, no doubt,” Treneth said under his breath. “Yes, well, un-shucked pea pods are his source, my apprentice.”
“Pea pods?”
“Un-shucked pea pods, to be exact.”
“Any idea where I could get those?”
“Farmer Idoon, Rimpertuz,” Treneth said with an amazed groan.
“I just saw him earlier today, sir. I’ll ask him to ship a box of pea pods up to Kek straight away then.”
“Just remember that a late present is not as promising as an early one, and do underline the fact that they must be un-shucked pea pods.”
“I’ll expedite the shipping.”
“Let me give you a word of advice,” Treneth said, trying to drive the point home and make sure that things ended the way he wanted them to. “Tell Idoon that you will pay double his costs if the shipment leaves by tomorrow morning, and that you will provide an additional twenty-five percent bonus if they arrive on time. Fifty percent, if early.”
“That’s a great idea, sir!”
“I do try,” Treneth replied. “Also, you may consider sending a healthy supply indeed. What better gift than, say, a year’s helping of one’s power source? That would make quite an impression indeed, no?”
Rimpertuz looked excited before he frowned.
“Sir,” he said as he shuffled his feet. “I don’t really make much money as an apprentice.”
“Ah, yes,” Treneth grabbed his coin purse. “I would happily loan you enough to cover ten—”
“Twenty!”
Treneth raised his eyebrows at Rimpertuz.
“I want to do this right, sir.”
As an excited Rimpertuz scuttled purposefully out the door with ample coin in hand, Treneth smiled and rapped his desk.
“Sometimes it really is too easy,” he said to the empty room.
LIZARDS AND LOAN SHARKS
Winchester Hargrath Jr. III was still getting used to seeing the world from his new size. Spending thousands of years as a creature that could extend its height upwards of thirty feet made for a rather large juxtaposition to being able only to rise a few inches.
In fact, Winchester had decided that being little had afforded him the ability to explore life in an entirely new way.
As a dragon, he’d spent most of his days sleeping in a pile of gold, and he was always being hunted. The only chance he got to be clever was when he was dropping riddles on would-be thieves before devouring them, or if he was hired to defend an army. He would never have been able to walk around Dakmenhem, talk to the locals, or start up his own business in the town.
While it was quite a change in how he viewed the world, Winchester found the entire ordeal fascinating. The thought of being a dragon again wasn’t even appealing.
If anything was bothersome, it was getting used to being so tiny. He was acclimating as best he could, but this hanging upside stuff was nauseating.
“So where the dough?” said Curdles, the local crime boss. He was holding Winchester precariously over a grinder by the tail.
If Winchester could have sweat, he would have.
“I just need a little more time,” Winchester said.
“Oh,” Curdles said to Zooks and Yultza, a couple of henchpeople. “He needs a little more time.”
Zooks chuckled in that not-so-funny way. Yultza wasn’t the laughing type. Winchester found her to be dreadfully serious, which he decided was immensely attractive. Of all the orcs Winchester had met in his lifetime, Yultza was by far the most horrendous…in a good way.
“You could just drop me and be out of a hundred gold completely.”
Curdles scowled. The mob boss didn’t like to be reasoned with. Not many orcs did.
“Your dragon tricks aren’t going to work on me, lizard.”
Winchester crossed his arms, adopting as stoic a visage as he could manage.
“It’s not a trick, Curdles. It’s simple logic. If you drop me, how will you regain your hundred gold?”
“Seems I won’t regain it whether I drop you or not.”
“Now, that’s unfair,” Winchester said. “You lent me ten gold upon my arrival and I paid you back fifteen within two weeks.”
“Yeah, out of the hundred that I lent you the second time.”
“Well, yes, that’s true, but I could have simply stepped away with the full one hundred and be in your debt one hundred and ten now.”
Curdles looked thoughtful for a moment and then clicked off the grinder and pushed it out of the way. He dropped Winchester on the desk.
“I don’t know why,” Curdles said, “but I like you, Winchester.”
“I am quite likable.”
“Nope, that ain’t it. I think it’s because I like the thought of having my own pet dragon.”
“Pet?”
“Yeah,” Curdles said with a hint of menace. “You got one week, Winchester.” He moved in closer. “One. If I don’t have one hundred and fifty gold on my desk in one week, I’ll have me a pet dragon living in a little aquarium.”
“Ninety-five, you mean.”
“Nope, I don’t mean ninety-five. One fifty. One week.” Curdles pointed to an empty spot over by a credenza. “Or there will be a little glass home right there for you. Got it?”
Winchester looked over at the table. It sat directly under a wind vent and that god-awful painting of Curdles's mother. The thought of living under her constant sneer was enough to make him shiver.
“Got it,” Winchester said with
a gulp.
“Good,” Curdles motioned at Zooks. “Take our friend here out back and give his tail a little snip.”
“Wait!” Winchester said, looking over Zook’s thumb. “If he cuts off my tail the vertebrae won’t grow back.”
“Lizards get their tails back,” Curdles said. He held up a book entitled Caring For Your New Pet Lizard and tapped the cover. “I’ve been reading up.”
“You can read?”
Curdles frowned. “Don’t push me, Winchester. The tail will grow back. Your head won’t.”
“The bones won’t grow back,” Winchester exclaimed. “Instead, it’ll fill in with a cartilaginous tube.”
“So?”
“So I could suffer from phantom limb syndrome and that would not make for a great pet. I would be quite cantankerous indeed.”
“Fine,” Curdles said, looking like he didn’t want to be one-upped. “Have him tell you where to snip from,” he said to Zooks. “We wouldn’t want our little Snoogums to be grumpy all the time.”
“Snoogums?”
“Oh yeah,” Curdles smiled. “That’s what I’m going to name you when you become my pet.”
“Snoogums?”
AOPOW STATION
Aopow Station was one of the larger portal hubs.
The structure was massive. There were rows of stores and restaurants reaching so far that they were just barely in sight. Its smooth walls moved into a high arching ceiling that had numerous indentations carrying miles of cabling and pipes. The grounds were equally detailed in their etchings and layout, though much of it was covered with grime. It wasn’t one of the more cared-for stations.
“Wow,” Bekner said reverently. “I’ve not seen the likes of this before.”
“We are in a portal hub, gentlemen,” said Whizzfiddle. “Aopow, to be exact.”
“Is this what wizards does?” Gungren asked.
Whizzfiddle ignored him and glanced around. It had been some time since he’d traveled the systems and portal nodes had a way of moving around. There was no sense in ending up surrounded by werewolves or trolls, so he studied the map to be sure he knew where they were headed.
“I don’t mean to bother you, Master Whizzfiddle,” Orophin whispered.
“I do so appreciate it.”
“It’s just that there seems to be some interest in our arrival.”
The elderly wizard dipped his head under the directory podium and took inventory of other travelers. Sure enough, there were a few scrags closing in on Whizzfiddle’s position.
Scrags littered the Aopow hub and local authorities did little to prevent them, which was primarily because there was no local authority in Aopow. Many people carried weapons to ward off the scrags, but wizards weren’t known for their weaponry and magic was rendered moot in this particular hub due to something called an electrical variance. Whizzfiddle never bothered to learn the ins and outs, he just knew that even attempting to light a pipe with an incantation would prove futile.
“Bekner,” Whizzfiddle said as he refocused on the podium, “we may have need of your size here.”
“I ain’t got a weapon.”
Whizzfiddle craned his neck. “My good dwarf, you are a weapon.”
Zel slipped behind Beckner.
“Especially after those beans you ate at lunch,” added Orophin.
Zel jumped out from behind Beckner and squatted beside Gungren instead. Whizzfiddle shook his head.
“Enough out of you, elf,” Beckner said.
“I don’t need you to actually attack the scrags—”
“The what?” Gungren said.
“Scrags. That’s what they call the portal thugs. Anyway, I don’t need you to attack them, but I need some time to learn the maps before we exit the portal. So, act menacing or something.”
Bekner began cracking his knuckles as Whizzfiddle resumed his search.
He traced the thin colored lines that ran from station to station, searching for Dakmenhem. With all the overlying routes, each having its own color, except where they ran together, it was a tricky proposition. #219 looked to be the ticket. Whizzfiddle began carefully spinning the dials. He took his time since they were known to stick if handled too roughly.
“The scrags are getting closer,” Zel squeaked.
“I just need another minute or so.”
“I don’t think we’re after having another minute, wizard,” Beckner replied.
“Why we just not go?” said Gungren.
“Because it takes proper handling to do these things.”
“Why?”
“Because you have to set the dials to the location you’re going to.”
“Why?”
“Because each number represents a portal and if you don’t input the proper sequence you’ll end up somewhere you didn’t intend.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how it was designed.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know why!”
“Um…Master Whizzfiddle,” Orophin said, pointing at the scrags, who were about twenty feet away and closing in quickly.
“I don’t get the trouble,” Gungren said as he reached out a stubby finger, pressing the green button. “Just hit this one.”
“No!”
THE UPDATE
Treneth of Dahl hated loose ends. He wanted nothing more than to gain a seat on the council, and eventually gain the council’s chair, but a very close second was the disbarment of his former master. Once Treneth took on a project, he saw it through.
And that meant he had to put another call into Teggins.
“My boys spotted them in Aopow Station,” Teggins said through the TalkyThingy.
“So they’ve been delayed then?”
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“They fled to Gorgan before my guys could shake them down.”
“Why would they go to Gorgan?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know, Treneth?” Teggins answered. “All I know is that they’re off the grid now so getting back to Kek is going to take them a while.”
“Fine,” Treneth responded. “I will make the arrangements to have your case reviewed with the council, Teggins. Once that is done, we will be even again.”
“Yeah, even,” Teggins said, followed by a click and a solid tone.
Now that Whizzfiddle and his quest was sufficiently tied up, Treneth could keep his focus on other matters.
The plan would begin tonight and the first step would be getting Muppy alone. The biggest hurdle toward that goal was it being Friday night.
Friday evenings were the notorious party night for wizards. Many would be partaking in drink, dancing, and various forms of debauchery. Muppy was known for being in the middle of that mix.
It was doubtful that another party at the Croomplatt twins’ estate was planned seeing as how the Croomplatts had just managed an event the week prior.
Zotrinder wouldn’t be with her. The elf tended to play dress up at the end of the week in a manner that made him look more like a woman than most women felt comfortable with, mainly because he looked better than the majority of them.
Ibork, too, was out of the question. Muppy despised the halfling. Who didn’t? Aside from Treneth, Ibork was the least favored wizard in Rangmoon.
So Treneth just had to get to her before she set out on the town.
He judged the time to be nearing five o'clock. The partying didn’t begin until well past nine.
He had time to prepare. He would scrub his hands and fingernails until they were flawless. It would be an arduous enough task to convince Muppy that he was seeing her purely socially. To arrive with hands gloved would be evidenced as business to her. He would be cleaned, clipped, filed, dressed smoothly, and carrying forth an air of change and personal interest in the council chairperson.
Rimpertuz would play his part as well, though he wouldn’t understand his role until it was beyond repair. Even if he had misgivings, his apprentice would comply
so as to avoid the wrath of his Master. After all, the man did say that he would do anything to garner forgiveness.
Ah, the beauty of creative thought. This, Treneth mused, is how a wizard should play the game of magic.
“Rimpertuz,” he called out, “that is enough for now.”
His apprentice set the shovel aside, closed up the barrel and dragged it over to the rest of the heap, and then approached Treneth.
“I shall need you to shower and dress nicely, Rimpertuz,” he said. “You are going to run an errand for me.”
“Yes, sir,” Rimpertuz muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Now, now,” Treneth said. “We had agreed that you would not take a sour attitude toward your debt.”
“No, sir.”
“Good,” Treneth said. “Oh, what happened with Idoon?”
Rimpertuz brightened.
“He says it’ll be on the road first thing tomorrow even if he has to personally pick each pea pod and load it himself.”
Money may not be able to buy love, Treneth thought, but it sure can afford satisfaction. That shipment would serve to solidify another challenge for Whizzfiddle. If the old wizard did somehow manage to get to Kek, Peapod Pecklesworthy would be far too busy shucking pods to be worried about anything else. Addiction was a powerful thing.
“Well done, Rimpertuz,” Treneth said. “I daresay you will make an impression on Master Pecklesworthy indeed. You did sign your name to the shipment, yes?”
Rimpertuz’s face fell. Treneth hadn’t expected the man to think of such a thing, but it would have been a nice touch on solidifying that Rimpertuz had acted on his own.
“No matter, my apprentice. I’m certain that Farmer Idoon will reveal your name when Master Pecklesworthy asks.”
Again, Treneth reveled in his own ingenuity.
“Yes, sir. That’s a good point.”
“Those are the only kind of points I make, Rimpertuz.”
“Where am I going for this errand, sir?”
“Hmmm? Oh, yes, well, I’m having you carry a message to the council chair.”
Rimpertuz’s eyes opened considerably. “Councilwoman Muppy, sir?”
“That’s correct,” Treneth said, tilting his head. “Is that an issue?”
Comedic Fantasy Bundle #1: 4 Hilarious Adventures (Tales from the land of Ononokin) Page 7