Tales From a Second Hand Wand Shop- Book 1: They Were the Best of Gnomes. They Were the Worst of Gnomes.
Page 62
Chapter Thirty-Six
Wherein Gatherer Division Wands
Actually Begin to Arrive
Drimblerod looked at the curtain, “How can you already be having a crisis? We’ve only just opened!” He called.
“Drim! There’s a line out here!”
“A line? Of what?”
“CUSTOMERS!”
Drimblerod was off like a shot and through the curtain as Grimbledung flipped the sign, “A line of people wanting to get in?”
Grimbledung opened the door, “Come in and peruse the merchandise.” He added a welcoming smile for good measure
“What?” Said the human at the front of the line.
Grimbledung’s smile faltered, “Ahhh, buy a wand?”
“I’m not here to buy a wand.”
Grimbledung moved past the man and looked down the street. There were a goodly number of people in line behind the Human- various races of people but all kind of haggard looking, he suddenly realized. “Are any of you here to buy a wand?” He asked hopefully.
The group had a quiet conversation among themselves. A Dwarf- the second in line shook his head, “Nae Laddy, we’re not here to buy wands.”
Grimbledung’s faltering smile finally gave out completely. A frown replaced it. “Then what are you all standing here for? Is there a parade I don’t know about?”
The Human looked at Grimbledung (he was still behind him), “Is this Second Hand Sorcery?” He asked.
Drimblerod stepped forward also into the doorway, “Yes, it is. Is there some sort of trouble?” He looked down the side of the shop. There were at least fifteen in the line.
The Human shook his head, “No, no. The two-headed fellow said you gents bought wands so that’s why ...” the man was cut off as Grimbledung hugged him, “Say now. This is a friendly shop. The two-headed guy didn’t mention that part.”
“Grimbledung, let go of that Human and let these people come into the store!” Scolded Drimblerod as he pried his partner off him, “Sorry, he gets emotional sometimes.”
“Fine, fine. No harm done. Say can we get down to business? I’ve got to meet a blacksmith about some swords.”
“Yes, come in. Let me get our other partner and we’ll get started. Grim, show these people in.” He moved quickly to the curtain, “Rat! We need your help out here. We’re swamped!” Drimblerod made it back to the counter just as the human came to the counter in front of Grimbledung. ‘So, kind Sir, what wand do you have to sell?’ he heard him ask hopefully. Almost too hopefully; a little bit of disinterest always helped when dickering over prices. He would have to give Grimbledung a few more pointers in the fine art of Haggling.
“Don’t rightly know. I picked them up and carried them along ‘cause that two-headed fellow said you’d buy them.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a Levitation Wand.
“Ohhh! A Levitation Wand!” Cooed Grimbledung. A thought occurred to him. “Those are nice to have.” He got a bad feeling.
“And here’s the other one,” said the Human.
“Oh dear. An Incinerator Wand.” Grimbledung gulped. “Did you by any chance find a large backpack as well?”
“Yes, I sure did,” the Human said. “Taking it to the Haberdashery to see if I can get a store credit or something. That’s some lucky guess!”
Grimbledung stuck out his tongue. “I don’t know how much luck had to do with it. Anyway, those are some great finds and we’re glad to have them.” He stopped himself before he added ‘back’.
Drimblerod shot him a glance that foretold of a great deal of ear whacking in the very near future for drooling over wands they were supposed to be buying as cheaply as possible.
Grimbledung returned to help the Human in hopes that the whacking would be forgotten. “So a Levitator and Incinerator then.”
“Yes, that’s it. Didn’t see any others.”
“How about two copper for them?” Grim asked in the most emotion-free tone he could manage.
“Sounds good to me. Didn’t cost me anything and that’ll buy me a drink or two across the street said the Human.
Grimbledung did a little back-flip in his mind, “Great. Tell them we sent you and you’ll get a frosty ale for no extra charge.” Mentally he made a note to make sure and tell Nulu about that new arrangement. Hopefully it wouldn’t cost him too much later on.
“Great, great. Nice doin’ business with you.” He took the coins and walked out of the store.
The next in line – inexplicably the adventurers maintained their line as they entered the store. They were, without a doubt, the politest, orderly adventurers Grimbledung ever saw. “What have you?” He asked the Half-Orc hopefully (again to Drimblerod’s displeasure).
“I dunno.”
“Do you have a wand?”
“A what?”
“A wand.”
“For what?”
“To sell.”
“No.”
Grimbledung frowned. “Then why were you in line?”
“I dunno.”
“How about I give you a copper and you go get yourself a drink across the street?”
“I can do that?”
“Sure. They serve everyone over there.” Grimbledung took a copper out and handed it to the perplexed looking Half-Orc. “Here you go. Have a drink on us.”
“Sure.” The Half-Orc left the store content in knowing that a few moments in line (Half-Orcs were as notorious for cutting in line as they were for pulling arms out of sockets) had earned him a free drink. If he finished the drink quickly, he would try the line at the Furrier next.
Drimblerod shook his head at his partner’s annoying charity. There was going to be a list of lessons for his partner once the day was done. “Who’s next?” He asked disinterestedly to no one in particular- he was a pro at this.
“Tha ... tha ... tha ... that’d be me,” said a shaky looking Elf. He looked over his shoulder twice before Drimblerod could call him forward.
“Step right up, kind Elf” he coaxed.
The Elf looked over his shoulder again and hobbled to the counter. When he got there, he leaned on it.
“Are you alright?” Asked Drimblerod anxiously. The last thing he needed was another incident that brought Akita by. He had seen the Constable more in the past month than he had in almost five years in town.
The Elf alternated between nodding and looking over his shoulder. “I ... I ... I ... I’m fine.”
“This is a safe shop, Elf, you don’t have to worry about anything in here,” Drimblerod lied. “How about you show me your wands, and then you can get going?”
“Not wor ... wor ... worry? How many toes you got?”
Drimblerod shrugged, “Eight. Just like any other Gnome. Why?”
“I got th ... th ... th ... three.”
“On each foot?” Drimblerod asked hopefully.
“Toe ... toe ... total.”
“Gads! How’d that happen?”
The Elf winced with the one shoulder that wasn’t holding him up. “Dunno. I remember sp ... speaking to that Runion fel ... fel ... fellow and the next thing I know, most of my toes are gone.” He pursed his lips, “And I just had them done too. Think he had something to do with it?”
“No way. Not Runion,” Drimblerod lied again. “So how about you show me your wands, and then you can get going?” He tried again. The Elf, and Runion - by proxy- was giving him the willies.
The Elf gave another half-shrug, “Sure.” He took a small bag off his belt, “Go ... got ... They’re here.” He loosened the drawstring on the bag and upended it. A dozen small wands of different colors spilled out. “Pixie Sticks,” he explained.
“Yes. Very nice.” He surveyed the pile of wands. They were easily worth two gold coins (retail). “How’d you get them all?” Drimblerod said
“Walking around. I’m a Pixie wrangler.” The Elf reattached the pouch to his belt.
“Pixie wrangler?” Asked Drimblerod, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one of those. What, do you tr
ain them or something? Put on a show?”
The Elf shook his head. “No. I get rid of inf ... infestations.”
Drimblerod nodded, “That’s a tough job. Once you get a bunch of Pixies settled in, they’re real ...” a thought popped into Drimblerod’s head, “Wait a grain of sand, Pixies don’t use Pixie Sticks. Folks use Pixie Sticks against Pixies. How do you get these wands?”
“When I get rid of them, the people give me the Pixie Sticks because they don’t need them anymore,” the Elf said.
“So, what do you do with the Pixies? Shoo them away?”
“No ... no ... nope. I sell them to the Orcs. They eat them you know,” explained the Elf.
Drimblerod blanched. Most people considered Pixies to be pests but even so, they were mostly harmless. “Orcs?”
“Ago ... ago ... gold coin.”
“You sell the Pixies for a gold coin to the Orcs?” Drimblerod didn’t feel sorry for the Elf anymore. “That’s horrible!”
The Elf shook his head, “No. That’d be ter- ter - terrible”
Drimblerod sighed, glad that he had misunderstood.
“I give them to the Orcs so they leave me alone.” Drimblerod blanched. “I want a go ... gold coin for the wands,” the Elf finished quickly.
Drimblerod stuck out his tongue, “Here’s your coin, Elf.” He frowned, “Take it and go.”
The Elf pocketed the coin and daintily hobbled out of the shop.
“Next!” Called Drimblerod.