Tales From a Second Hand Wand Shop- Book 1: They Were the Best of Gnomes. They Were the Worst of Gnomes.

by Robert P. Wills

Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Wherein Gnomes Decide to

  Visit the Local Wizarding School

  Drimblerod peered out from behind the curtain and, as he had done for the past five days, asked “Is it safe?”

  “Yes, Drim,” replied Grimbledung flatly, “I told you; I sent them to the middle of the Great Sandy Desert. Those two are gone forever. Even if they made it out of the desert which they won’t, they’ll have to figure out which way to go, which they won’t, and even if they go the right way, they have to deal with those treacherous Pics and their caravans, which they won’t. Then they have to get through the entire of Orcistan, without getting eaten, which they won’t. They have no wands, and no cloaks, no food and no water. You’re never going to see them again. Ever.”

  Drimblerod moved cautiously to the counter, “These aren’t people you cross, Grim.” He shuddered. “But if they went where you said they went; I guess we’ll be fine. But why didn’t you send them to the middle of the Eastern Sea? Without a boat, that would have solved the issue once and for all.”

  “I’ve never been there,” replied Grimbledung casually. “I’ve been to the middle of the Great Sandy Desert. I used this great little underground shelter right in the middle of it as a hideout once. It’s built on top of a spring. Very cozy and out of the way.”

  Drimblerod looked up over his shoulder. “Well, in any case, I still wish you had thrown those things away.”

  “It’s like when they put heads on pikes. It’s a warning.” He appraised his work. Above the curtained doorway was a lopsided shadowbox which contained two crisply folded, gaudy cloaks each with a black wand with white tips on them. “I think it really brightens up the place.”

  They both looked at the wands in silence. Finally, Grimbledung spoke up, “You know what would help? Why don’t we take that trip to the Wizard’s School like you were saying, a day out would be a fun mini-adventure.”

  Drimblerod exhaled slowly. “I suppose that would take my mind off these recent events. Let’s pack the wagon and we’ll head out at first light. Rat, would you mind being a Shambler for a little while?”

  Rat was lying on his side in front of the fire as usual. “Sure thing, Drimblerod. After how the past few weeks have been going, I owe you a few pulls of your wagon.”

  “Then it’s settled!” Exclaimed Grimbledung. He hopped back and forth and sang:

  We’ll ride in the wagon and visit the school!

  Talking to students and Big Old Jule’,

  Drim’ll talk wands and it’ll be great!

  I’ll run the halls, and climb the gates!

  He thrust his hands in the air.

  And visit the cafeteria and eat some chow.

  Visit the Cafeteria and eat some chow?

  Yes!

  Visit the Cafeteria and eat some CHOW -OW!

  He finished the song on one knee, arms splayed out to his side. His fingers were all waggling.

  “One more song and you’re staying home.”

  “I agree, Rat,” said Drimblerod. “AND there are no songs on the Wagon.”

  Grimbledung slowly got to his feet, pouting, “What about once we get there?”

  “We’re there on business, not as part of some traveling minstrel show,” scolded Drimblerod. “No songs while we’re there either.”

  “Fine no more songs.” Grimbledung sighed heavily. “Until we get back, right?” He added worriedly.

  “Yes. Now let’s flip the sign and get some food. We’re starting early in the morning.

  Grimbledung hopped to the sign, humming a tune as he went. “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” He said as he scooted to the back of the store.

  “Tomorrow will be a really long day,” lamented Rat as he too turned to go.

  Drimblerod followed Rat to the back of the shoppe. “How bad could it be?”

  The sky was just turning pink as the wagon pulled out the back of the shop and down the street. “Why’d we have to start so early?” Complained Grimbledung for what was already probably the tenth time.

  “It’s not healthy to see the sun rise,” said Drimblerod at the same time as Grimbledung did, “yes, I heard.” They were not even out of the Shoppe, not even on the main road heading south out of Aution and he was already tired of the journey. He concentrated on the back of RatShambler. “Keep up the good work Rat” he called.

  RatShambler looked at him as he walked. There was pain in his eye; a pain that spoke one word; Grimbledung.

  “Just keep the pace and get us out of town to the south, Rat,” Drimblerod coaxed.

  There wasn’t even a whip on the wagon and Drimblerod wasn’t holding the reins; he felt that would be insulting to Rat. On more than one occasion during the short time of their journey, a peasant eyed RatShambler curiously as it made its way along the streets, yielding where appropriate, nodding to passersby, and taking the right of way as necessary, all without any apparent guidance from the driver of the wagon. In fact, the driver appeared to be asleep while the Gnome next to him bounced on the seat and clapped. It was an unusual display even in Aution.

  Finally, the town was behind them and the sun had cleared the far mountains. The warmth of the day had begun to crawl across the lands.

  “Are we there yet?” Asked Grimbledung. “We’ve been gone for a while, haven’t we?”

  “Grim, we are just barely out of Aution,” explained Drimblerod. “We’ve got a good two hours to go before we’re there. Why don’t you go in the back and count clouds, or have a snack, or take a nap, or something,” said Drimblerod testily.

  “Sorry, Drim” said Grimbledung, “it’s just that I’ve never been on a business trip before. It’s very exciting.” He bounced on the seat and clapped his hands. “You don’t know how much I want to make up a song about riding in a wagon.”

  “I can only imagine,” offered Drimblerod.

  “With the wheels going round and round, the scenery going by and by.” He stopped as Drimblerod gave him a warning glance. After a moment, he pressed on warily, “And there’s a sale in it for you and me. Yes, probably a wand sale in it for you and me.”

  “Feel better?” Drimblerod squinted at his partner. “That’s as close to breaking out in song as I want you to be until the sun has set.” His eyes squinted even more to the point where Grimbledung did not even think he could even see him anymore. “Understand?”

  “Sure thing,” said Grimbledung. Not knowing if his partner could see him, he finished by waggling his ears at him. “Loud and clear,” he said, smiling.

  The rest of the trip through rolling hills passed uneventfully and to Drimblerod’s (and RatShambler’s) relief, unmusically. After what seemed hours, but was only two, the large blades of the windmill that was the main hall of Displaines’ School for Young Wizards and Witches came into the distant view. They were turning slowly even most of their fabric was missing and there was barely any breeze.

  Displaines’ School for Young Wizards and Witches had been established in an abandoned Gristmill. The outbuildings had been renovated to act as classrooms and a large three story building had been built as a dormitory. In total about 100 students actually lived at the school and thanks to a newly opened Teleportal service, again that many students commuted every day to attend classes. The establishment of a magic school – especially a Displaines’ School, was usually a boon to a local economy; restaurants, clothiers, and inns (filled during conferences and sporting events) invariably sprung up soon after a school was opened. This fact made communities interested in having their very own Magic School. The Teleportal service was the first of what would invariably become a business explosion in the area.

  The school itself was actually a franchise operation belonging to the successful businessman and Wizard, Mac Displaines. Buying unusual abandoned buildings was part of a business model that kept start-up costs low. Hiring local instructors and support personnel kept local governments happy and the requirement for bribes to a minimum; graft may take a back seat, but it nev
er got completely out of the wagon. Thanks to operating under the umbrella of the Mac Displaines’ School of Magic Corporation, slick marketing drew in students. Mac had long since retired from the Wizarding School business and he used the franchise scheme to ensure a healthy income. It was a perfect existence; he lived like a king but without the hassles that accompanied being King.

  “FINALLY!” Cheered Grimbledung’s clambering back to the front of the wagon. He had moved to the back of the wagon and had, for the past hour, been describing what he saw in the clouds.

  In detail.

  “Yes, finally,” agreed an exasperated Drimblerod, “now be on your best behavior when we meet Julie. We don’t know anything about her and I sure don’t want you offending her right from the start.”

  “It’ll be the bestest behaviorestes I have-estes.”