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

Chapter Five

  Wherein Drimblerod Prepares for His New Partner

  Drimblerod entered his shop. From the outside, the shop appeared to be only a little wider than a standard six-pane window and a door. “Second Hand Sorcery” was painted across the top of both. Below it hung a bright banner- “Psychotic Readings” it proclaimed in neon-red letters. The shop was nestled between a Haberdashery and a Cobbler. It was an ideal location as adventurers on their way out of town stopped by the latter for comfortable adventuring shoes of some sort and the former for their essentials. The shop itself was painted a mystical flat black with stars scattered here and there that twinkled on their own. A moon was magicked over the door so it mimicked the phases of the actual moon. It hovered a full foot away from the building- just enough to catch the eye of pedestrians but just not enough to break any local codes. Variances cost money (especially with institutionalized graft) and that was bad for profits. He closed the door behind him, the small bell dinging yet again as the door hit it. The shop was easily three times as wide as it appeared from the street. A simple Disburse! Spell keep the actual boundaries of the neighboring stores from infringing on Drimblerod’s magically maintained square footage. A broom swept haphazardly in the corner. It never really cleaned anything; an automatic Disintegrate spell handled that, but Drimblerod felt that the brooms added a bit of expected whimsical magical ambiance to the shop.

  “You only have to do that when we’re open!” Drimblerod sighed. “Wow, many times do I have to tell you that?”

  The broom stopped, seemed to flex in the middle in a slight shrug, and then leaned against the wall. Drimblerod moved behind the counter and dumped his full sack onto it. Emptying his pockets, he added to the sizzling pile of wands. Since his staff of testers had called his bluff and he was forced to fire them (who would have thought?!) it would take the better part of two weeks to test them all. He went to the back room- it was again as big as the front showroom. He pulled down his Murphy bed and sat on it. He would have to add another bed back here as well, as well as make room for whatever junk Grimbledung brought with him.

  “We give it a couple of months, then I shove him into the Abyssmal Box and keep his wagon” he said to another sweeping broom, “How does that sound to you?” The broom kept up its ineffectual sweeping. “I really need to work on that enchantment so you brooms actually do some work.”

  The broom perked up.

  “No I do not count the incident with the buckets of water as working.”

  The broom perked down.

  “Work?” Drimblerod dug through a pile of boxes, tossing wrapping and random items about. The brooms would at least sweep everything back into a pile later. “Success!” He cheered. “Brooms! Clean up this mess!” He moved to the living area of the shop, “Caldrons make some stew!” He called to a corner of the area. He was rewarded with the clattering of lids and spoons clanking. Drimblerod pulled a crate to the edge of the bed and put a battered and beaten jousting dummy torso on it. “My precious tester! You would never leave me, would you?” He asked the dummy. “No, no you won’t” he cooed at it. “Now to make those arms move. He tilted the box lid back, careful not to dump the dummy as he blindly felt in the crate. He was rewarded with a charred wooden box. “Let’s see,” he muttered as he rummaged through his personal stash of wands. “Reanimators? Displacers?” He glanced at the dummy, “How about a good old fashioned Mechanimator?” The dummy sat silent. “You agree? Excellent.” He took the wand and stepped back from the dummy. He thought for a moment, cleared his throat and intoned:

  Hacking and Slashing not towards the living

  To do that, never are you willing!

  Discover a wand’s purpose and use and sort them in some way

  he paused and considered for a moment

  However you choose!

  He jabbed the wand at the dummy. It bucked and jerked- if it had legs it would have done a jig. After a few moments Drimblerod approached it cautiously. It spasmed several times but seemed to be accepting its new enchantment. He poked it with the tip of its wand and it tried to grab it. “No! You’d set the whole shop running amok through town!”

  Dejected, the dummy dropped its arms.

  “I’m going to get you set up and you can go through dozens of wands. How does that sound?”

  The dummy bopped and flailed like a happy puppy. A battered, legless puppy.

  Drimblerod picked up the dummy and kicked the crate along with him as he moved to a clear corner of the room. Excited to be out and about, the giddy dummy bounced up and down.

  “Quit squirming, you!” Drimblerod put the dummy on top of the crate.

  The dummy looked around this new area of the room. It gave an approving nod.

  “Don’t wander off,” Drimblerod commanded.

  The dummy looked at him, hands on its hips.

  “I’m starting to regret this,” he muttered as the dummy began to wave a nonexistent wand at various objects in the room.

  Drimblerod moved to the front of the shop and caught a glimpse of the sweeping broom. When he turned toward it, it quickly leaned against the wall. Drimblerod scowled, “When Grimbledung gets here, then you can act like you’re working. Set the mood, as it were.” Moving behind the counter, he picked up a heavy, copper gilded box. Its lid was clamped down on all four corners. Grunting, he hefted it to the living area of the shop. As he came through the curtain, the dummy wheeled around and slashed at him with the non-bristled end of a broom.

  “That is not a wand!” Scolded Drimblerod, “Put that poor broom down! DOWN!”

  The dummy released the broom. It clattered to the ground but quickly righted itself and retreated a safe distance away.

  “No playing with the brooms!”

  The dummy dropped his arms to its sides and sulked.

  “And I thought I told you to never point a wand at a living thing!” Drimblerod dropped the box and opened the lid. Inside was an inky black and red vortex which spiraled down on itself. “’I’ve a mind to put you into the box!” Drimblerod threatened.

  The dummy appeared to look at the box, then gestured with its hands in a classic ‘So?’ gesture.

  “You don’t know what this is, do you, dummy?” Drimblerod shoved the box beside the crate the dummy was on.

  It peered down into the swirling colors. ‘So?’ it gestured again.

  “Allow me to demonstrate then.” Drimblerod looked around the room and spied a piece of lumber three feet long- a shelf that was never put up. He walked over and picked it up. “Hello, jousting dummy” he said to the piece of wood, “So you want to act up? That is not a good idea.”

  Dummy stared at him.

  “But I can do what I want,” Drimblerod said out of the corner of his mouth as he bobbed the wood up and down, “I’m a real smart dummy.”

  Dummy was now standing with its hands on its hips, mitten fingers tapping.

  Drimblerod stretched up so he was almost eye to eye with the dummy. “This. Is. You.” He said in a low voice. He stepped back and without ceremony let go of the wood.

  The dummy tracked it leave Drimblerod’s hand down into the box. It slid noiselessly into the swirling colors. Where it should have bottomed out because it was much longer than the entire box, it continued down into the swirls.

  “Gone,” said Drimblerod as he looked at the dummy. “Into the abyss.”

  The dummy jumped back, arms flailing in front of it.

  “This is an Abyssmal Box,” explained Drimblerod. “Things I drop into it never come back. Ever. I have no idea where anything actually goes and I don’t really care. Sure, I occasionally get an angrily-worded postcard from some low-level bureaucrat from the Nether Regions, but that’s about it.”

  The dummy now had its hands clasped together in front of it. If it had knees, it would have been on them.

  “You understand then?”

  The dummy reached out and shook Drimblerod’s hand with both of its mitts.

  “Fine, fine, don’
t get all mushy on me. Aim the wands at the Abyssmal Box and sort them. Got it?”

  The dummy rendered several salutes. With both hands.

  “I’m still regretting this,” mumbled Drimblerod as he hefted the Abyssmal Box. He carried it several feet away and sat it on a barrel. He tipped the box on its side and aimed it at the dummy. It had been watching his action and ducked quickly, its hands over its head. “Relax, dummy. It doesn’t work that way.” Even on its side, the swirling vortex continued on its spiral towards the bottom of the box. “Aim here,” commanded Drimblerod.

  The dummy again saluted with both hands. Drimblerod shook his head as he again went to the front room. He pulled out an empty display case and gingerly raked the wands onto it. The glass beneath the pile was discolored and warped. He carried the tray to the dummy and sat it on its perch.

  The dummy grabbed a wand and flung it at the Abyssmal Box. The wand dutifully disappeared. Dummy raised its hands in triumph.

  Drimblerod grabbed the dummy’s arm as it reached for another wand, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” He bellowed, “Bad dummy! NO! We do NOT do that. NO!” Drimblerod shook his head at the dummy, “Weren’t you listening?”

  The dummy pointed to its nonexistent ears with its free hand and shrugged.

  “Don’t give me that! How do you know what I’m saying if you can’t hear?”

  The dummy started to raise its hand to make a point then dropped it. It cocked its head to one side, moving an invisible ear closer to Drimblerod.

  “Good. Now that you’re actually listening- what you do is wave the wand at the box. Wave it. Then when you see what it does, you sort them according to what they do. Got it now?”

  The dummy nodded and gave thumbs up sign.

  “I’ll bring in some cans to put the wands in.” Drimblerod heard the bell clatter at the front door. “I’ll bring them later, but please, please get it right.” The dummy saluted again. “Or else!” He called over his shoulder as he walked out. More saluting greeted his back as he went.