“A couple of brooms,” Drimblerod considered it. “I don’t know, Grim. If word gets out that there’s lots of Mechanimated things around here, the Magician’s Guild might come poking around. I don’t know if I can go through that again.” His face paled, “You have never dealt with those people.” He thought again and sighed, “All right, so what are we hiring these folks to do? Bring us wands? How do we get them to do that?” Asked Drimblerod. If the plan were too absurd he would just nix the whole idea, but there was no sense in not listening to his partner; he’d surprised him once already.
“While they are out and about, if they find Unicorn horns, Basilisk scales, any sort of item we can use for wands. Dragon spines even. If they come across something and bring it back, we’ll buy it. If they come across actual wands, we buy those too.”
“But what if they don’t come back?”
“That’s the beauty of it,” Grimbledung said, “if they just wander off or get eaten by a dragon, we’re not out any coins.”
Drimblerod shook his head. “But what about complaints from next of kin?”
“That’s the best part! We won’t be liable if anything happens,” explained Grimbledung. “We won’t be tasking them to do anything, or signing any contracts. We’ll just sensitize them to what we’re interested in. All we’ll do is ask them to keep an eye out for peculiar items. If they come across something and bring it back, we’ll buy it from them if we like it.”
Drimblerod sipped his ale and thought over the plan.
“We can set up a display in the store advertising the start of this brand new part of adventuring- Wand Gathering.
“You could call them the Gathering Division and give them a badge with GD on it,” suggested Rat.
“A ‘Gee’ and a ‘Dee’?” Said Drimblerod hesitantly.
“Sure! Either Gathering Division, or you two; Grimbledung and Drimblerod!”
Grimbledung looked hopefully at his partner. “Neat!”
Drimblerod put down his tankard, “Grimbledung, that is underhanded and conniving. Completely below board. Even for a Gnome.” He squinted his eyes at his now squirming partner. After a moment he continued, “And I have to say absolutely, positively brilliant. You truly have a dizzying way with business.”
Grimbledung squealed and clapped his hands. “So, can we call them the Gathering Division?”
“Sure, we can even give out bonuses to the best Gatherers. We can have them all come to a year-end ceremony.”
Grimbledung jumped from his chair and it once again clattered to the floor on its back. The Dwarf looked again. It was most interesting thing happening in the bar. For a moment, Drimblerod thought he had said something wrong again. Until Grimbledung shot his hands in the air and cheered. “A Jamboree! I’ve always wanted to host a Jamboree!” Grimbledung clapped his hands. “And a bar-b-cue?” He asked hopefully.
“I suppose so,” said Drimblerod hesitantly.
“A Jamboree and Bar-B-Cue!” Sang Grimbledung as he hopped back and forth. Nulu walked up to the table hefting two large racks of lamb surrounded by vegetables.
“What now?” She asked Drimblerod. “He’s an all or nothing kind of Gnome, isn’t he.”
“Apparently so,” said Drimblerod.
Nulu leaned over and slipped the platters with the racks of lamb across the table.
“Wow, nice rack" commented Grimbledung with a wry smile- his eyes aimed nowhere near the platters.
“Watch it buster” warned Nulu as she straightened.
“It’s hard not to” said Grimbledung.
“No vegetables for me” warned Rat. “If I eat vegetables, I get the toots something fierce.”
“I got you taken care of” said Nulu as she pulled a saucer from her apron.
Rat sat on his haunches. “You really are a fine Trolless. Load up that plate, Grim!”
Grimbledung stopped dancing and sat down. His stomach growled loudly.
“I’ll leave you to your meal and we’ll talk later,” she said as she dropped some cloth squares and two knives on the table. “I’ll get those drinks freshened up in a bit.”
“Cut some for me before you push any vegetables against the meat” said Rat, “otherwise, I won’t be responsible for my actions later.”
They (all three) dug into the meat and vegetables (not Rat) heartily without much chatter beyond a comment about a morsel or the taste of the chilled ale.
Soon, the lamb was reduced to bones and small bits of meat scattered on the platters and table. Rat lay on his side panting. “I’m embarrassed to say someone’s going to have to carry me out of here.”
“But Rat,” offered Grimbledung, “you were carried in.” Grimbledung spoke around a rib that stuck out of his mouth like a pipe.
“I’m stuffed” admitted Drimblerod.
Grimbledung pulled the bone from his mouth and tapped it on his platter. “I propose a toast to the founder of the feast.”
“Our customers?” Asked Drimblerod.
“No” said Grimbledung, “to Rat, of course.”
“What’d I do?” Asked Rat without moving.
“Was the sale his idea?” Asked Drimblerod.
Grimbledung shook his head, “No, the idea was the easy part.” He smiled broadly. “He spelled all the words right.” Grimbledung lifted his almost empty (for the fifth time) tankard.
“Well, I’ll drink to that!” Said Drimblerod hefting his also nearly empty tankard high.
“You’ll just have to pour mine down my gullet because I can’t hold my glass,” slurred Rat.
Grimbledung picked up the shot glass and poured the ale into Rat’s open mouth. Most went down his throat, some sloshed past his whiskers. Finally, Rat’s one eye rolled back in his head and he flopped back onto the table.
“Is he dead?” Drimblerod asked as he leaned forward to examine Rat.
Grimbledung shook his head, “Rat can’t die. I enchanted him as a familiar. He’s tried getting squashed, skewered and burned. Nothing does him in. He’s over 100 years old. More or less.”
“Has he tried getting himself eaten? It seems to me that would work.”
Grimbledung stuck out his tongue. “You’d think that, but apparently not. It seems the enchantment resists digestion as well.”
“That must have been traumatic for the poor thing” Drimblerod gazed at the sleeping Rat.
“Not as traumatic as it was for the cat. That was a one-way Rat-trip of sheer terror for that cat, if you get my meaning. Rat wasn’t too pleased about it either. Cats are a subject you do NOT bring up around Rat.”
Drimblerod blanched. “Gads! Good tip. No discussions about cats.” He thumped his tankard on the table loudly. “One more drink while we talk to Nana.”
“Nulu” corrected Grimbledung.
“Nulu. Then we get bock to the shap.”
“Agreed.” Grimbledung also banged his tankard on the table. “One more please!” He yelled to no one in particular.
A Halfling approached the table, “Whatayawant?”
“Two more drinks if you please, Mister Halfling. And ask...” Drimblerod looked at Grimbledung who nodded once at him, “Nulu if she has time to speak to us.”
“Fine,” scowled the Halfling as he gathered Rat’s numerous empty shot glasses. “What about the rodent?” He gestured to the sleeping Rat.
“I think he’s had his fill. Let’s just let him sleep it off.” Grimbledung said, “Bless his little heart. I’ll take mine though.”
The Halfling scrunched up his face. “Yeah,” he snapped. “Yeah, you’ll get yers,” he snapped (again) as he walked off.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Said Drimblerod.
Grimbledung shrugged. “It’s probably nothing” (see footnote 6). He nodded once and let his chin rest on his chest.
“Hey! Wake up, Grim!” Drimblerod nudged the table.
Grimbledung startled awake, “I’m awake, don’t worry about me.”
“You better be” tut-tutted Drimblerod, “we
have drinks on the way. We Gnomes have a reputation to hold up.” He blinked. “Up hold.”
Grimbledung giggled.
“Don’t you dare get the giggles,” warned Drimblerod, “we’re going to have a serious business meeting with Nala.”
Grimbledung giggled again.
“And the last drink I need for you to is....” Drimblerod paused. “What was I saying?”
“You were saying that we had drinks on the way,” suggested Grimbledung.
“Exactly,” agreed Drimblerod as he slapped his hand on the table, “we have drinks on the way!”
“And Nulu to talk to.”
“Right” agreed Drimblerod.
“What do we want to Nulu about?” Asked Grimbledung. That wasn’t right. “What do we want about Nulu?” He tried again. He concentrated. It didn’t help. “Nope. I give up.” He took a drink. “Something about Nulu. We’re curious about her. Or something.” He finished off his drink and sat it down with a forlorn look. “Curious, I suppose.”
Chapter Seventeen
Wherein the Gnomes Make an Offer to Nulu
“That makes two of us,” said Nulu as she placed two mugs on the table. “I went a little smaller on the mugs or I’d have to carry you two out of here.”
“Well, I can’t imagine you’d have trouble doing that,” observed Drimblerod.
Grimbledung giggled.
“SO ... our shop seems to be doing well. But we seem to have an issue with time management,” continued Drimblerod, “and what we need is an outside party to keep us on track.”
“You want to borrow my sun dial?” Asked Nulu.
Grimbledung giggled. “I like that word. Sundial. Sun dial. Sun. dial.” He giggled again.
Drimblerod shook his head, ignoring his partner, “That wouldn’t work. Once it was in the shop, it wouldn’t work right either.”
“So what is it you want?” Nulu asked, wishing she had a drink as well. “Maybe we should have talked before all those drinks.”
“No!” Said Drimblerod almost too loudly as he slapped his hand on the table, “what we need is tea and cakes.”
“But I’m stuffed” complained Grimbledung as he patted his belly.
“Not now, you. I mean during the day when we’re open,” explained Drimblerod. “Say mid-morning and mid-afternoon.”
“Mid-morning” repeated Grimbledung obediently. And cluelessly.
“And what would that do?” Asked Nulu.
“Mid-afternoon” interjected Grimbledung. Still clueless.
“It would give us an idea of what time it was,” continued Drimblerod. “We lost two days today.”
“Tea Time!” giggled Grimbledung.
Nulu considered the offer. She took a swig of Grimbledung’s ale, who promptly took back the mug and caressed it. “So since I’m outside the store, I’ll know what time of day it really is.” Nulu thought out loud, “And when I bring over snacks, you’ll know too.”
“Exactly!” Cheered Drimblerod, this time definitely too loudly. “I couldn’t have said it better myself!”
“What’s in it for me?” Nulu asked flatly.
“You can charge an extra half copper for frosty drinks, all day, every day,” said Drimblerod.
Nulu feigned offense, “You think I’d charge my loyal customers extra for cold drinks? I love my customers and I can’t believe you’d even suggest I’d jack up my prices for frosty mugs.”
Drimblerod stared at her, eyebrows raised.
“Well,” Nulu shrugged, “maybe half a copper.”
“And to help you out even more, we’ll even throw in a mop!”
“A mop,” Grimbledung agreed. “Oh yes... A mop.”
Nulu did not look impressed. “A mop? Really? How’s a girl to turn down a gift like that?” She crossed her arms. “A mop.”
“Yes, but not any mop,” continued Drimblerod as he leaned forward and whispered (loudly) “An enchanted mop. It will keep your cellar floor clean and dry.” He held up a finger. “Plus every evening you can let it run around up here to clean up.” He held up a second finger. “And along with frosty ale,” he continued as he held up four fingers, “your vegetables will stay fresher long ... fresher longer.” Drat. “Good.” He smiled in triumph.
Nulu considered the offer as she looked between the two. “So some tea and maybe crackers and toast is all you are going to need twice a day?”
“Do you think maybe you could maybe bring some scones once in a while? Maybe?” Asked Grimbledung. “I like scones.”
“It’s a Pub and Restaurant, not a Restaurant and Pub,” reminded Nulu. “It took me weeks to get my cooks to not char every piece of meat they dragged across the grill. Now you want them to bake scones?”
“Well, it’s just a thought. Maybe,” said Grimbledung dejected. “You can’t have a proper tea without scones, is all.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“So is that a yes?” Asked Drimblerod as he set his mug down.
“I may regret this, but yes. It’s a deal.” Nulu stuck out her hand.
Drimblerod slapped it. “Deal.”
“But” said Nulu, “we’ll discuss and reassess the deal every month. I won’t be roped into a lifelong arrangement. It’s not like we’re getting married.”
“Once a month, we sit down and see how things are going. That works for me,” said Drimblerod as he now stuck out his hand.
Nulu slapped it.
Drimblerod winced. “Wow, I’m glad that’s settled.”
Grimbledung had been looking back and forth between the two during the negotiations, smiling and sipping his drink.
Both Nulu and Drimblerod stared at each other. When after several moments, neither added anything to the arrangements, Drimblerod clapped his hands. “It’s settled then.”
“Yes,” said Nulu as she spat into a not-so-nearby spittoon.
Both Gnomes gaped at her.
“Sorry, I was married to an Orc once. It’s a long story.”
Grimbledung hopped up on his chair and began to dance. As he did, he sang:
Trolless and Gnome -ses working togeth - er!
Selling, ale, wands and veg - er – tables!
Nulu looked at Drimblerod who only shrugged.
Once a month, we’ll have some la – amb.
And maybe eat a scone or two?
Yes! We’ll eat a scone or two - ooo!
Yes, we’ll eat a scone or two!
He then fell off his chair, landing in a heap on the floor. Nulu leaned over and examined Grimbledung. He was snoring softly.
“He is really one of the oddest Gnomes I’ve met. And I have to tell you, Gnomes are an odd race,” said Nulu. She added quickly, “No offense.”
Drimblerod shook his head, “None taken. We are a noble and proud race. But on the whole, a bit odd. It’s part of our charm.”
“I see,” said Nulu.
“Oh, one thing I’ve learned at this table,” began Drimblerod.
“Yes?”
“No matter what, don’t ever call Grimbledung stupid,” he warned.
“Oh, is that what brought about the... incident?”
“Afraid so.”
“Well,” Nulu said, “he may be odd, but I don’t think he’s stupid.” She smirked. “If he were rich, they would call him eccentric.”
“That’s a good word for him. Ectrexic. Entrecix?” Drimblerod frowned. “I think it’s time to go home.”
“I think so too. Do you need help with him?” Nulu said as she pointed at the snoring Gnome.
“No, I can handle it,” said Drimblerod as he stood. He used the table to steady himself. “Well, maybe a little help would be nice,” he said as he picked up the still sleeping Rat. “I’d hate to drop one of them.”
Nulu moved to the prone Gnome and easily picked up Grimbledung. She tucked him under her arm like a barrel of ale. “Lead the way, Drimblerod.”
Drimblerod walked in a fairly straight line to the door even though he leaned heavily as he did s
o. “Right this way, Mistress Nulu,” he called over his shoulder as he opened the door, gesturing for her to leave first.
“Can you let go of the door without falling over?”
“No. I think not,” said Drimblerod. “There seems to be something amiss with the establishment in your floor.”
“Come here” she said as she added Drimblerod under her other arm.
“Forward!” Commanded Drimblerod as he pointed with the sleeping Rat. He moved his feet as if he were still walking, kicking Nulu’s arm.
“Let me do the work, will you?” Suggested Nulu as she crossed the street. She reached for the catch on the door and pushed. The door remained closed. Nulu leaned as she pushed, the frame of the door groaning in protest. “It’s locked” she said finally.
Drimblerod, still pointing forward (with Rat), dropped his arm (but not Rat), “Of course it’s locked. The store’s closed. See the sign? Let’s come back when they’re open.”
Nulu shook her head. “You drunk Gnome, It’s your shop! How do I unlock the door?”
Drimblerod looked up, “Say, that’s a nice looking store!”
“Yes, I agree. Where’s the key?”
“Open up you door!” Scolded Drimblerod as he waggled a finger from his free hand at it. “We want to come in!”
The latch on the door clattered open.
Nulu looked down at Drimblerod, “You’re kidding me. That’s all it takes to open your shop? How is it you haven’t been cleaned out by the shadier characters in town?”
“Because the door recognizes my voice, of course,” explained Drimblerod, twisting his neck to look up at Nulu, “you don’t think it would listen to just anyone do you?” Drimblerod looked at the door, “You’re a smart door, aren’t you? Yes, you are. A smart, handsome door. That’s what you are!” The door rattled with joy. “Yes you are! Such a GOOD door. I’ll give you a good waxing later. Yes, I will.” The door shuddered with glee and popped open.
Nulu shook her head and eased sideways through the door. It closed behind her dutifully. She put Drimblerod down. He shakily stayed on his feet. “Can you put Grim on the cot in the back?” He asked as he laid Rat in front of the now cold stove.
They Were The Best of Gnomes, They Were The Worst of Gnomes (Tales From a Second-Hand Wand Shop Book 1) Page 10