Chapter 16: Friday
[B8, C25] [B10, C11]
With the late morning sun overhead, Bart watched as several imps worked to remove cobblestones from the street and stack them on a pallet. “Seriously? They are even ripping up the bricks?”
Rose, dressed in a high-waisted, light-green gown, twirled her matching parasol as she stopped beside him. “The supervisor is likely serious. The imps themselves are likely to be doing the absolute minimum amount of work required to satisfy their contract and obtain payment for services rendered.”
“Yup.” One of them extended his wings and sat down. “Union break!”
“What, exactly, are we trying to accomplish now?” Bart frowned. “The kids all seem to have taken to Kathal. I’m not sure what they are doing, exactly. But whatever it is, I guess that gives us alone time… sort of.”
“There is more to being a couple than the activities of the bedroom.” Rose pointed to a man behind a table that was set up in an apparently random spot off of the street. “I recognize him.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Rose shrugged. “He is an auctioneer. Queen Wyked employed his services to dispose of the most egregious of the purchasing sins of her predecessor. I was one of the purchasers of note. And yes, I did turn a profit on that transaction.”
“I remember you saying something about that. The details aren’t coming back to me.”
“That is not crucial.” She walked towards the man. “Mister Zephyr, what merchandise are you contracted to liquidate?”
“Everything you can see.” The man wore a ten-gallon hat and spoke with a Texas drawl. “I have a temple right there, ready to go!” He pointed to a colorful building with curved support beams. “Right next to that is a hot sauce fermentarium. If you are crazy enough, you can culture the pepper vats to make your own sadistic culinary delights and market them to your content. I have a private laboratory used for illegal, immoral, and impossible research, as well as a warehouse containing a unique collection of rare beer cans from… the mortal world!”
“Indeed. Are there any required disclosures?”
“Of course.” Zephyr nodded. “I’m not sure if this adds to the value or subtracts from it, but, after the last priestess of that temple was banished, members of some group called the Gideons stopped by. There’s a book on monotheism in every nook and cranny in there now.”
“Gideons?” Bart blinked several times. “Here?”
“Yep.” Zephyr looked up at the sky. “No Angelic warning, though. Although with the Templars running the show now, I guess that makes sense. They are already here, sort of.”
An elderly man with dark brown skin and gray, tightly curled hair walked up, although his path swayed from side to side. “Dammit, I’m here too early!” He spoke with the deep roughness of an aged set of vocal chords.
The auctioneer rolled his eyes. “My merchandise today is far, far too valuable for your budget, at least as judged by your past behavior.”
“Your opinion doesn’t matter. I need a bidder number.”
“The name?” Zephyr picked up a pencil.
“You know it.” The man pointed an accusing finger at Zephyr, who refused to write. The man sighed. “Fine. Be that way. The name is Red Stanford.”
“The man who is the lord of the largest Junk Empire in all of the Realms.” Zephyr rolled his eyes as he wrote. “I suspect you have that title on account of the utter lack of competition for the title and complete lack of value in the title.”
“I am highly offended by your opinions.” Red snatched his bidding card from the table. “Even if they might be accurate. This is a liquidation auction, right? That means, no reserve? No minimum bids?”
Zephyr narrowed his eyes. “It is limited to the smallest integer denomination of the acceptable currency.”
“I got my collection of pennies. We are good.” He grinned and walked over to a bench. Just as he was about to sit down, two short, furry creatures ran up, grabbed, it, and ran off with it. “I was going to sit there! What’s with the goblins stealing things?”
“Oh, that bench was sold yesterday.” Zephyr scoffed. “The local unemployment rate is so low as to be negative, as there are more courier and moving jobs than there are people.” The auctioneer sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Yes, negative employment rates can result in goblins being used in such a capacity. That detail is disturbing.”
A woman with long brown hair, wearing a long white laboratory coat, walked up to the table. “I’m here for the laboratory.”
“You’ll have to bid on it like everyone else, missy. Give me your name, and I’ll give you a bidding card.”
“It is currently Shannity.”
“Currently?” Zephyr tilted his head.
“You are unlikely to be able to understand the full implications.” She narrowed her eyes and the back of her lab coat moved. A slit in back let a long tail, covered with brown fur, swoosh back and forth.
“As long as it’s legal for contract law purposes.” Zephyr wrote the name down and handed the woman a card.
Bart looked to Rose. “Are you planning to get a card?”
She twirled her parasol. “Due to the nature of my personal finances, it would likely be prudent for me to decline. However, if you are interested in participating, then do not let me stand in your way, either figuratively or literally.”
A pair of pixies flew towards them, then landed on the table and left scroll cases.
Pixies. I miss Electra. I hope she’s okay.
Zephyr opened them up. “Well, it seems my list of items to be sold for the day has been greatly expanded upon! Thank you two!”
“Well, I have no idea what to get or why.” Bart put his arms out. “Or what is a good value or a bad value. Or if I could afford it.”
Rose fluttered her lashes. “I would be more than happy to act as an expert advisor on these matters. I am extremely knowledgeable and practiced in these matters. And, remember, you may set as conservative of a budget as you wish.”
“That would help if I had any clue as to the currency used.”
Zephyr perked up. “I don’t normally eavesdrop like this, but, as it’s directly connected to my business, I get a general pass on the consequences of breaking this particular rule of etiquette. Tell me your preferred currency, and I’ll convert it as I go. This is just what I do.”
A dozen more people of a variety of species arrived and formed a line in front of the table.
Bart looked back and forth between Rose and Zephyr. “I guess.”
“Your hesitation has resulted in this upcoming delay.” Rose shrugged. “However, our plans at this point are rather… loose, and may be filled with whimsical recreation of our choice.”
“Recreation?” Bart winced as understanding plopped down into his brain. “This is, um, shopping, isn’t it?”
“Why yes, it can be categorized as that.” A smile touched her face.
“Recreation. I have no idea what I’m going to buy.”
“I frequently begin my adventure in that way. I have faith in my ability to determine the answer to that when the opportunity arises.” And if, of course, you might select a suitable gift to serve as a memento of our time together here, that would be exceptionally noteworthy.”
“I’m not good at picking out gifts.”
“I beg to differ. However, yes, it will be challenging to match up to the one that truly caught my attention, one utterly unexpected and unique.”
When I gave her the blood. Why did I do that? What did I want? In a moment of overlapping memories that crystallized into clarity, he suddenly understood his motivation. I wanted her attention. I wanted to be noticed. I wanted to be on her radar, as a person, not just a daily task she had to take care of.
I guess I succeeded.
“You.” A man in leather armor with curly horns stared at Rose as he stood at the end of the line.
“That sounds like an accusation.” Rose turned around. “Do I know you?”
Bart stepped up beside her, then moved to be a few inches closer to the stranger than Rose was.
“It seems that you do not.” The man scoffed. “I assume that you are here to aid Snow White, in some way?”
“Not particularly.” She raised an eyebrow. “Any such obsession with that subject would likely reside entirely within your thoughts. And in the matter of knowledge of you, it is possible that I know you by reputation. However, that is difficult to ascertain without knowing your name.”
“Until recently, I held the title of the Huntsman of Yindale.”
Snow White? Huntsman? Hold on. That was her cottage at the Fair, right?
“Oh!” Rose widened her eyes. “Kathal did give me an account of the betrothal. It was quite a peculiar event. Rather than trying to seize the poor woman from her own nuptial ceremony, wouldn’t it have been easier to ride off into the sunset with Aphrodite? I understand that she had consumed an exceptionally large amount of wine and showed absolutely no inhibitions whatsoever.” Rose turned to Bart. “We should get in line.” She nodded towards others who appeared to be converging on their location.
“She was irrelevant.” The Huntsman scowled and tilted his head. “She has been irrelevent for quite some time. At some point, she should accept that fact. However, that was not, is not, and likely will never be a major concern of mine.”
“Hold on. Aphrodite?” Bart looked between Rose and the Huntsman. “The same one from Greek mythology?”
“There is none other.” A chuckle escaped Rose’s tightened lips. “Zinnia was most displeased when the goddess excused herself early from her tea party to seek out… well, that which she seeks out. And it was certainly not present at her party.”
“What in the world?” Red jumped backwards and landed on his rear. An instant later, a large horse appeared as if from nowhere, bearing a man in black clothing. A woman with long wings hovering just above him, then landed, straightening out her long, very slim skirt before retracting her wings.
Bart instantly recognized the man. “Raymond?”
“Ah, I am remembered.” He dismounted from the horse. “I am merely a means of conveyance.”
The woman looked around, then made her way to the table with a series of many short steps due to the confines of her attire. “I believe protocol allows for an interruption if the question is of sufficient relevance.”
“I’ll answer while I’m doing the paperwork.” He scribbled down notes and handed out another auction card. “How can I help you, missy?”
“The name is Lala, not missy. Accuracy is of the utmost importance. I am led to believe that structures of various sorts are being sold.”
“Very true.” Zephyr looed up. “I assume you are gonna ask a question?”
“Yes.” Lala narrowed her eyes. “Does the purchase of the structure also include the temporal and spacial component of the associated property?”
He paused and scratched his chin. “I don’t see why not. But, you have to understand, we don’t have anyone able to disassemble and transport that. If that’s what you have in mind, you’ve got to do it yourself or get it done at your own expense.”
“That is more than acceptable.” After giving him a curt nod, Lala wiggled her way to the next position in line, behind Rose and Bart.
From behind the auctioneer, a mechanical wheezing noise appeared to come from empty space. Over the course of several seconds, a dusty blue telephone booth, in the style of something used a century ago in the British Isles, appeared.
Lala rolled her eyes. “Him.”
A scruffy man dressed in a tweed suit exited. Around his neck was draped an excessively long, colorful knitted scarf. “We are here, just as I said. Come on.” He held the door open.
“I don’t think you properly understand the nature of my services.” A familiar woman, speaking in a thick British accent, exited. She wore a red bustle dress appropriate for the late 1800’s and wore a matching hat.
Rose sucked in a breath as she stared. “Margaret.”
“Why the hell would she be here?”
“To fornicate with someone, of course.” Rose rolled her eyes.
“Companionship!” The man with the scarf smiled. “My last one met with an unfortunate… well, let’s not talk about that. Dalahkas and Cyberpersons are unsavory. And I absolutely require a companion for my journeys through time and space.”
Margaret rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Doctor. Although, for being a doctor, you see to have misplaced your medicine bag, that you did!”
The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a cylindrical metal item. “I’m sure that my combination Sonic Wrench and Ultrasonic Screwdriver will get us through any tight spots along our journey.” His eyes widened. “Oh, we may have overshot our intended moment slightly. The Dartis that carried us here must need a bit of calibration. We can attend to that later.” The two of them approached the line.
“You seem to be giving more than the typical share of stink-eye that I’m accustomed to.” Margaret stopped near Rose and met her glare. “It’s almost like you know me.”
“I wish, so dearly, that I was ignorant of your existence.” Rose’s voice dripped with acid and ice. “Unfortunately, I cannot currently achieve that state.”
“Well, missy, if you were spying on me, and your man managed to find me on the streets of London for a little fun because you had your hoity up in your toity, I would have to say that is entirely your fault, yes I do! And if I gave two shakes of my fanny about upsetting the sensibilities of other folk, I wouldn’t have much of a job, would I?”
“Margaret, please join me.” The doctor took a spot at the end of the line. “Your identity and credentials will be required.” He focused his gaze on Lala. “My dear, you seem very familiar.”
“That is because I am.” Lala tilted her head. “Oh. I was somewhat shorter then. I was your Companion.”
“Lala! You were but a pixie back then! You were also one of the few of my Companions to survive!” The Doctor swallowed.
“Pardon?” Margaret stood beside him. “I’m not quite sure that I like the sound of that.”
The scarf around the Doctor’s neck appeared to tighten of its own accord. “Remember, you were moments away from a grisly death by the name of Jack the Ripper. I would think that you would be grateful for a different fate than a grisly and gruesome end.”
Rose, who had turned to look, shook her head. “You chose poorly, Doctor. I believe that it would have been better for all parties involved if you had simply stood back and watched.”
“Someone took a double dose of castor oil this morning, didn’t they?” Margaret met Rose’s glare without flinching. “If I made any implied apologies towards what I might have done to you or your man in the past, I withdraw them, yes I do! You seem to be the sort that brings such things upon herself with that chamber pot attitude of yours.”
“Oh, what a momentous day!” The Doctor nodded. “This will go down in the history books as the day that started it all.”
Bart furrowed his brow. “And how do you know that?”
“Well, it’s a perk of the position. I am the last of the Time Barons. I travel through time in a… less than linear fashion.”
Two imps pounded a large metal stake into the ground near them. The yellow one wiped his brow. “This is a lot of work, Ardegel.”
“I know.” The orange one nodded back. “I’m more than aware of that, Blygren. We should take a break.”
“But there’s a performance bonus based upon timely completion.” Ardegel pounded the stake further in. “And we are broke.”
“Very true.” Blygren swung his own hammer.
The spike lit up. As two imps stepped back, the air above the spike turned wavy and distorted. A moment later, a large bipedal creature with scales, clawed hands, and bony crest on its head appeared a foot above the ground, then fell, staggering before righting itself. <<The positioning of the beacon is incorrect.>> The voice felt as if it resonated straight into Bart’s brain.
Ardegel reached into the pockets of his dangerously loose pants and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper. “The place we were supposed to put your spike beacon thing was carted away! We were almost carted away with it!”
“We made reasonable accommodations for an otherwise impossible request.” Blygren folded his arms over his chest, then pulled out a pipe from his own pocket that appeared to already be lit and took a deep breath through it.
<<Where are the Pylons?>> The creature stomped towards the table with slow, deliberate steps.
“Take your place in line.” Zephyr pointed. “I don’t care if you hang around the Edge of Chaos and have your eternal war going. There’s a procedure. Get your card, then bid on what you want when it comes up. Bid enough, and it’s yours.”
The creature clenched one hand into a fist. Then, without further fanfare, turned and took a place behind the Doctor and Margaret. <<Constructing additional Pylons is a never-ending process. Acquisition of reserves by means of a purchase will expedite our responses against any future rush.>>
Rose nodded to the creature. “Yes. Some things are certainly best purchased, rather than crafted. I suppose it depends upon the particular details.”
The line had finally moved forward to the point that Bart and Rose stood in front the auctioneer. “Name?”
I assume I have to stay incognito. “Thomas.”
“That is indeed a name.” He scribbled the name down on a list and presented Bart with a bidding card. “You mentioned a preferred currency for bidding translation purposes.”
“Dollars.”
The incoherent muttering and din of the others around them suddenly quieted. Zephyr looked up and tipped his had. “I see. That definitely puts you in the category of the serious bidders.” He looked to Rose. “And you?”
“Oh, I am merely serving as the lovely and talented assistant of Thomas.” Rose patted Bart on the arm. “There is no need to pay particular attention to me or have an official record of my presence. What are the exact terms of payment?”
“Cash or Formal Honor Invoicing. There’s a ten percent surcharge for the latter.”
“That is relatively standard for liquidation auctions.” She nodded, picked up the card, and walked away from the table. “We have been designated as the number thirteen.”
Bart followed her and let out a long sigh. “That sounds about right. This just seems… random.”
“We have absolutely nothing else scheduled for this period of time, except, perhaps, lunch. It may be challenging to find a functional restaurant, but, I suspect, not impossible. Unplanned events are not always unfortunate. I do not see the point in declining to at least examine this opportunity.”
“It seems like they are going to auction off buildings. What would I do what that?”
“Have it installed on your property. It is rather expansive.”
“That doesn’t…” Bart furrowed his brow. “They could do that?”
“We couldn’t help but overhear.” The yellow imp approached. “Due to my uncouth nature, I frequently ignore the polite rules of society. I am Blygren.” He pointed to the orange imp. “That’s my associate, Ardegel.”
The other imp nodded. “Yes. I’m the couth one of us. I didn’t overhear anything that I shouldn’t have.”
“We do deliveries as a side job. We have contacts, and ways to make things happen.” Blygren winked at Bart. “We have license to take anything away from here to where it needs to go, as long as it’s a part of the auction process.”
“It’s quite proper.” Ardegel nodded. “There is a great deal of paperwork made up that, I was told, is quite correct.”
Rose shrugged. “Informal couriers have their uses. I have employed similar measures in the past.”
“So, what did he mention? A temple? A laboratory?”
“Attention!” As another pixie flew away from him, Zephyr climbed up on the table. Even with the height added by his hat, he could not have been more than five feet tall. “I have been informed that the scope of my auction has been expanded. If you see something you are interested in, place a bid. Also, be informed there are bidders participating from a distance. If any of you get the feeling you are watched, it’s because someone’s using clairvoyance, a scrying crystal ball, or some other similar appliance.” He sat back down and continued to process bidders.
Rose smirked and chuckled. “There is a great deal of humor in this moment.”
“How so?”
“The proceeds go into the coffers of the Templars.” She narrowed her eyes. “And there are accounts that need to be… reconciled.”
Just as the last members of the line received bidders cards, several pixies in black-trimmed brown uniforms landed at the table. “This just got bigger! Way bigger! Just like happens back in Texania, where everything is bigger!” Zephyr grinned and flipped his hat into the air, where it twirled and landed right back in place. “These messenger pixies are shuttling bids back and forth between the other auction sites here in North Bregnip. We are all linked together, like I hear happens in the mortal world, into one giant twitter-bay-net-interweb-link! And…. To start things off, we have the outhouse on the corner of Pillsberry street and Cheezecurd avenue! Do I hear five anise stars?” Zephyr pointed to a scowling dwarf. “Ten toe-tacks beats five stars. Do I hear ten toe-tacks?” A pixie flew in and landed and whispered into the auctioneer’s ear, while another took off. “From a distance bidder, we are up to thirty crystals of cherry moxie!”
“I don’t need an outhouse.” Bart rolled his eyes and stepped away from the bidding.
Rose followed him. “Those are easy words to say before you have enjoyed the buffet.”
“Do I hear four brontosaur ribs?,” Zephyr continued. “Yes! Anyone else? Going once? Going twice? Sold!”
“Yabba dabba do doodoo!” A man in a leopard-print loincloth ran off, with the awkward gait of one dealing with digestive urgency.
Rose nodded to the man. “My point exactly.” She furrowed her brow as a pigeon coop was the next item to be auctioned. “It would certainly have been nice to be able to browse a list of items, along with the order of auctioning.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been at an auction.”
“Oh?” As the auctioneer continued his work, Rose moved closer. “I do not recall hearing this tale.”
“It’s not exactly a tale. I hit several estate sales, looking for good deals on antique furniture that I could refinish.” Bart let out a long sigh. “That used to be my happy place, calm, when I could just work through the process of fixing up the pieces I’ve collected. I miss it. I’m not sure how to make time for it.”
“Perhaps one of your numerous offspring would have the inclination?” Rose raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps a future one would? I would think that passing on your lore to another would be motivation to reconnect with your passion in the subject.”
“That’s… a really good idea.”
Rose smiled as she nodded to him. “Those do, on occasion, enter my mind and exit through my lips.”
“Next up for auction, the refuse pit, and the contents just north of the main city.”
“Now we are talking!” Red’s eyes lit up. “One cent!”
Bart smacked his lips several times. “That’s not exactly what I am all that interested in.”
“Excuse me.” Shannity, the woman in the lab coat approached them. “Are either of you scientifically inclined?”
“Um, I read the occasional articles, but it’s not my big thing.” Bart shrugged.
“I fear my own education in the matter is sporadic, at best.” She furrowed her brow. “In some small sense, you are familiar. The voice. But not the details of your face. Have you undergone some sort of transformation?”
The woman’s face turned momentarily rigid, then it relaxed. “Oh, that was a serious inquiry. Not a snide comment that acts a thin veil over heavily implied derision.”
“I’m confused.” Bart furrowed his brow. “People changes shapes here in the Realms. Spells, potions, all that. One of my sons is a shapechanger.”
“The Realms.” Shannity focused on Bart. “That implies that you are more familiar with locations that are not the Realms. Relatively few locations of states of being would match that description.”
Bart looked to Rose.
“It isn’t a great secret that needs to be concealed.” Rose turned to the woman. “My inquiry is sincere, if idle. If you choose not to shed light on the matter, I will not suffer great annoyance or insult.”
“The most likely place that I would have encountered non-technical folk is at the Multiversity. To generate extra funds, I… tutored.” A look of distaste crossed Shannity’s face.
“Did you mention science?” A portly bald man, also in a lab jacket, approached. “I am Doctor Honeydont. I am currently employed in Research and Development.”
Another man followed him with an awkward, stiff walk. His head and neck were indistinguishable, fused into what looked like a cylinder, and the head and neck bobbed in and out of his labcoat as he swiveled his head frantically, as if looking for threats from every direction, while the tuft of red hair appeared to have a severe, permanent static charge sending the strands everywhere.
Doctor Honeydont gestured to the man. “This is my assistant, Flask.”
“Are you considering bidding on the research laboratory?” Shannity fidgeted with her hands.
“Absolutely!” Honeydont nodded his head several times. “That will allow us to apply for full accreditation. And, um, recover from the last safety incident.”
Flask babbled incoherently, then pulled his head-neck almost completely into his coat, showing only the top half of his eyes.
“Then, while we wait, would you mind participating in a study?” Shannity’s left eyelid twitched several times. “I have an assortment of refreshing beverages with experimental properties that I would love to have documented by outside reviewers. Others with science backgrounds would be the… ideal candidates. You will be listed as co-authors in the research paper, when published.”
“A citation? In a professional publication?” Doctor Honeydew beamed. “We would be delighted!”
Flask, with his head-neck still in his coat, rotated it back and forth several times, in an unambiguous version of a ‘no’.
Shannity reached into her coat and extracted a pair of small vials with colored liquids. “I have selected these especially for your ideal experience.”
Doctor Honeydont downed his with glee, while Flask pulled his head-neck entirely into his labcoat, showing only a disorganized shock of red hair.
Shannity turned back to Rose and Bart. “Please, pardon my lack of social graces. I will be departing from your company, on account of the fact that your presence is completely irrelevant to my current mission.” An instant later, she walked away.
A few seconds after the woman left, Rose winced. “Now I remember!” She grimaced.
“Something bad?”
“Only in a sense that I could have committed an unintended rudeness. I did have a limited encounter with the woman, although, at the time, she was merely a spawn. A laboratory rat.”
“She was a rat? I thought you said spawn didn’t grow up.”
“There is no… controlled, safe, scheduled, or reliable way. It may happen. Clearly, as you can see, in her case, it did happen.” Rose waved towards the woman, who was now conversing with a man that had a transparent glass instead of the top half of his skull that revealed a throbbing brain. “She appears to have retained the tail and powerful incisors. My understanding from limited information is that former spawn commonly retain some small hint of their previous forms.”
“I’m picturing… I’m not sure what I’m picturing. Yizzad as a freckled teenage girl with a laugh that’s like fingernails on a chalkboard. Ribley as a guy working as a bomb technician. Affa being one of those crazy bush pilots flying planes in the middle of nowhere, but she always brings her own lunch, because no one else can make it right.”
“It will be their choice to pursue that. You may choose to research details. However, being too forward about that may be perceived that you are… displeased at what they are, and that you would rather they risk their own lives to become something else.”
Bart sucked a breath in through his teeth. “I didn’t think about that. This all sounds very complicated.”
“That appears to be the nature of the continuation of life and the state of existing.”
A residential suburb of small, vine-covered cottages was the next item up for bid. With his face tensed, jaw clenched, the Huntsman put up his own bidding card.
“I wonder if it would fit on your own property.” Rose raised an eyebrow. “Do you desire to have an exceptionally large family that would require more space than your house allows? The totality of my siblings, on both sides exceeds the suitable available spaces of the royal castle.”
“Oh, you did say you had a really big family. I have no idea if that would be a good idea.”
“I think that it is a matter of taste. Does the process of filling a village with your offspring appeal to you? Is Tamara interested in assisting you in this endeavor? And, at some point, my own womb will be available.” Rose fluttered her lashes. Nearby, a trio of horned devils worked to uproot a tree that had been providing some small measure of shade.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Is there any way of checking on what is going on with her? With everything going on at home?” His chest tightened up. “Oakton is still back there! I said I’d summon him. But we keep moving. And if I brought him here, he could just be auctioned off!” As if on cue, the devils hauled the tree, roots and all, over to a wagon, then drove off.
Rose tightened her lips. “I fear I have been in a state of somewhat deliberate procrastination on the matter. I did not see any easy way to influence or learn of the events back on earth.” She looked up at the sky. “It is getting more than a touch hot. Let us move to the shade provided by that statue of a giant flying eagle.”
“At least until it is auctioned off.” With his heart still pounding, he led her there.
“I have heard your desire.” A tiny, but familiar voice whispered into his ear.
“What? Stanley?”
Rose frowned and looked about. “I am unfamiliar with the name. But I did indeed hear a voice, whispered. However, I cannot make out the particulars of the words.
“He’s, um, a friend of mine.” What did he say? He’d be in darkness and shadows? Something like that. “Stanley, nice to hear from you again.”
“I have been addressed. You may also start the conversation.” He had the tone of implied admonishment.
“Crap, I didn’t understand… okay. Now I know. Sorry.”
With raised eyebrows, Rose stared at him as she twirled her parasol.
“I forgot to tell you about it. I ended up in a completely dark place when I crossed over. Maybe it was a forest. Stanley is the wisp that talked to me. He helped me out. And I did that book spell on him. Stanley, what’s up?”
“Currently the sky. However, from watching and whispering, that may, also, be sold off. You desire to know what occurs in another place. Should it have darkness and shadow, I may journey there, observe, and return.”
“Seriously? Even if you’ve never been there before?”
As Bart waited for a reply, the next item up for bid was a garden with a pond and a decorative fountain.
“That would be a pretty addition to your back yard. So, in regards to this Stanley that you have befriended—”
“Directions!” The voice next to Bart’s ear was so loud that he winced. “With directions, I may attempt. With luck and perseverance, I may succeed.”
“Directions… my place is on the other side of the transit point. That should basically be where I showed up. I want to know what’s going on there. Is anyone alive? I have a son, Oakton. Well, he’s an oak tree, or bush, who talks.”
“Trees provide shade. And thus, I may linger. This is best done at night, when I can travel unimpeded.”
“That’s fine. Please, get back to me with some sort of information.”
“I will make the sincere attempt. I ask, I plead, for a favor, in return.”
“I’ll try.”
“My name. The one from the past. The one that has been stripped from my being. I wish to possess it again. I can feel the loss, yet I do not have the proper words to express it.”
“I have no idea how I would do that, but if I figure it out, absolutely. I’ll keep an eye and an ear out for your previous name.” Bart felt a very soft breeze against his cheek.
“I find myself… impressed.” Rose nodded to him. “I have the sense that you are now a full participant in the drama that unfolds, rather than a… shall we say… bystander.”
“I’m not exactly comforted by that.”
“This is it!” The Doctor with the scarf bounced up and down. “Margaret?”
“Oh, the bidding card thing? You know I’m a bit short of cash now. Rent and all that. Living, even in a gingerbread house with the worst of all reputations, still isn’t free, that it isn’t!”
“We will supply the funds.” The scarf slithered around the Doctor’s neck, as if it was a snake with a life of its own.
“We?” Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Getting all royal now? The royal We?”
“And the next item up for bid is a restaurant, known as LeShooter à Salade, one made famous, or infamous, by acquisition of a recipe written in an ancient mortal-world script, and enchanted to infinite permanence and durability.” Zephyr’s eyes lit up. “This tablet is included in the purchase.”
Margaret put her card in the air. “I’m bidding on the bloody thing!”
A pixie flew in and landed on the table and spoke to the auctioneer. “Well, an all-you-can-eat buffet pass to Le Pain?” Zephyr scowled. “That’s not a currency I can accept.”
“A fine dining establishment?” Rose tilted her head. “I do not think I have the patience for the managerial details.”
“Not my thing either.” Bart shook his head. His heart rate finally had slowed. At least I’m doing something about the mess back home. Even if it’s indirect. An idea started to tickle the back of Bart’s brain as it formed into something coherent.
“My card is still up!” Margaret shouted. “Someone tell me when we’ve won the bloody thing.”
One pixie flew off, while another arrived at Zephyr’s table, and the auctioneer rolled his eyes. “No! The two items will not be split up. The recipe may not be purchased separately. I don’t care if the bidder is Doug Adams, LLC, who owns the Restaurant at the Other End of the Universe. But we do have a bid from the Kemet Royal Acquisition Minister, representing Pharaoh Ramses the Second. The current bid is one gold sarcophagus!”
“Kemet. Ramses the Second.” Bart thought back. “Rashaad talked about his trip there.”
“Yes. That was a very prominent assignment given to him.” Rose sucked in a breath through her teeth. “My dear, do not even think of raising your bidding card.”
“I wasn’t. Why do you say that?”
“There is a mortal world term that I think applies best here.” Rose paused with tightened lips. “He may be considered to be something of a ‘heavy hitter.’”
Zephyr focused on Margaret. “You will need to prove some sort of verification that you may exceed the current bid. Formal Honor, in your case, will not suffice.”
“What? Saying I don’t have any honor? Are you insulting my lifestyle? Calling me dishonorable harlot?” Margaret narrowed her eyes. “Why, I ought to drub you within an inch of your life, that I should!”
Another pixie flew in and whispered in Zephyr’s ear. “We have an entire golden fleece as the bid!” Zephyr focused on Margaret. “You must provide concrete evidence of financial worthiness to participate further. I have viewed your credit report.” He shook his head. “The income possibilities that exist beneath your dress, although above zero, cannot be used to justify this level of purchase.”
Margaret turned to the Doctor. “I’m doing what you asked. It’s not like I can pull a sack of gold out of my arse!” She lowered her card. “That’s what you were supposed to do! Where’s the sack? Where’s your arse?”
“But…” The Doctor gulped. “This is not the proper continuation of the timeline!” The scarf tightened around his neck. “I did what you asked!” His voice was choked off as the scarf continued to tighten.
“I need to verify the Formal Honor credentials of the Golden Fleece bid.” Zephyr pointed, and the pixie flew off. Another arrived. “And, while we are waiting, the representative of Ramses the Second have doubled their bid.” The auctioneer grinned. “Oh, the commission!”
“This sounds important.” Bart tilted his head. “But I have no idea why. Mainly, I’m confused.”
“You cannot let that hold you back, or you will accomplish nothing in life, especially in the Realms.” Rose placed her lace-gloved hand on Bart’s shoulder. “Sometimes, the appearance of comprehension is what is needed, and one can sort out the factual minutiae later.”
“Bidder verified! Acting as agent is Hades, of the Greek Pantheon, raising the bid to two golden fleece!” Zephyr looked around. “Is anyone here even remotely interested or capable of participating in this particular bidding war?”
The din of the crowd, at least momentarily, silenced as many individuals shook their head.
Rose suddenly looked upwards. “That does seem at least a bit out of place.”
Bart followed her gaze, and recognized the outline of a biplane against the blue sky. “It does. That looks an awful lot like a mortal-world airplane.”
“I must inquire.” Lala pointed straight upward. “Is that flying contraption on the list of items to be bid upon?”
“Currently, no.” Zephyr scratched his hat. “However, if you want to request that we add it, you may. The only hard restriction is that you cannot bid on the other bidders. That just gets too complicated.”
“I Formally Request.” Lala continued to point upwards.
Zephyr nodded. “Request approved. Lala, your bid?”
“Six penningar, Viking minted.”
Bart looked upwards. “I can’t fly one of those things.”
“Then perhaps you should not bid.” Rose chuckled.” I suspect the proper item will appear that will compel your sincere inquiry.”
Bart sat on the ground and rubbed his eyes as he tuned out the auction. “Is this a usual sort of thing that happens in the Realms? Entire Realms being auctioned?”
“Well, no.” Rose furrowed her brow. “Yet, on the other end of things, it is sometimes challenging to actually find something that is best categorized as ‘usual.’”
“I just thought of something. What if I win?”
“Well, you anticipate the future use of your purchase, that was likely obtained at a great bargain due to your fortune of being her and skill at the art of purchasing.” Rose scowled. “Your tone implies some other detail.”
“These are buildings. Statues. Parks. Trees. First of all, I have no idea how to arrange for transport. Second… how can they go in my own property on earth?”
“Ah.” Rose grinned. “This is when your business partner may be of aid. Although my credit situation does not allow for direct participation in this endeavor, I do have Realms that I personally administer. I am sure that one of them can serve as a temporary storage location, and the final details can be worked out later. Marmota would, most assuredly, be willing to accommodate any reasonable request.”
“Okay.” Bart stood back up. “I’ll keep my ears open.”
“And now, we have a laboratory!” Zephyr studied a piece of paper in front of him. “This one has a disclaimer. The buyer assumes all liability for the contents, including any and all disruptions in the normal fabric of reality that may or may not be present. The responsibility for decontamination, cryogenic maintenance, radiation mitigation protocols, xenomorph containment, and biohazard remediation is also completely transferred to the buyer the very instant that the purchase is considered final. The new owner also is responsible for any corrective or remedial actions that the Powers That Be might impose, on account of the paradoxical effects of time travel and related temporal anomalies linked to this laboratory or past uses of this laboratory. Is that understood?”
Shannity narrowed her eyes. “Completely.” She raised up her own bidding card. “I open the bidding with ten cheddar cheese wheels, aged for one century, gold-foil wrapped, certified for commerce.”
The man with the glass skull top that exposed his brain put his card up, then lowered it. “I do not feel well.”
“Intriguing.” Shannity pulled out a spiral-bound note book and scribbled. “Please describe your experiences. They may be connected to the experimental beverage that you
“Something just occurred to me.” Doctor Honeydont scratched his bare scalp. “The group of people that you offered your experimental refreshments to is the very same group that would be likely to bid against you for this laboratory.”
“And intriguing observation.” Shannity nodded and scribbled. “What are your own experience?”
“I feel very much like I am a peacock, and I must strut and impress the females.” He put his arms down at his sides and flapped them in the manner of wings, while wiggling his butt as he walked back and forth.
“Thank you.” Shannity wrote down more notes.
Flask’s hair caught on fire. He ran around in circles, swatting at is own head, while screaming incoherently.
“Spontaneous combustion.” Shannity frowned. “Flask, what hair products did you use this morning? That may have had an interfering effect upon the experiment.”
Other potential bidders, most of whom wore some sort of lab coat, fell over, screamed, and vomited.
“Interesting.” Shannity continued to write. “I was not anticipating the actual melting of the flesh.”
“Miss.” Zephyr narrowed his eyes. “It sure looks like you did something to take out your competition. It almost seems like you cheated.”
“You could certainly draw that conclusion.” Shannity walked over to a woman with a laboratory coat that quickly iced over. “What are your experiences?”
“I’m mutating!” The woman grimaced. “I don’t think this is a very useful mutation.” An instant later, she was entirely coated with ice, save for her head and neck, which still frosted over.
“Metabolic adaptation as well. Self cryofreezing.” Shannity nodded and scribbled. “You will certainly have an extended shelf life. I suspect that you will be best suited to study volcanoes, as you will likely become thawed due to the typical heat output.” She turned to the auctioneer. “Is there any other bid?”
“Nope.” Zephyr rolled his eyes. “It’s yours.”
“Thank you.” Shannity put her notebook back in her pocket, flipped the bidder card to the side, and walked away, tail bouncing from side to side with a palpable, perky energy as she moved.
“Predatory purchasing.” Rose grinned. “I am invigorated just watching this as a spectator sport.”
“We have a cancellation.” Zephyr scratched an item off of his list. “Or I guess you could call it an alteration. The warehouse on fifty fifth avenue, the one that contained pylons, burned to the ground. So, all that’s left is some sort of weird purple glowing gas.”
<<No!>> The creature with the bony crest fell to his knees and pounded his head against the wall. <<This is intolerable!>>
The two imps approached him. “It happens to the best of us,” said Blygren.
“And the worst of us, too,” added Ardegel.
<<I must now construct additional pylons!>> Over the course of several seconds, the creature grew transparent, then, disappeared.
“I empathize.” Rose nodded to the now empty space between the imps.
“And the next item has a bit of a reputation. It isn’t for everyone. Due to an extended incarceration, the Baron of Hargrove Manor lost their property due to a tax foreclosure. And now, due to the Realm Foreclosure, it could be yours. Who wants to own a property designed to entertain and pamper a number of ladies? Who has the physical and emotional stamina to live this lifestyle?”
Rose snorted out a chuckle. “If this does not match your stated dreams and desires, I do not know what does.”
“This…” Bart blinked several times. You would be okay with this?”
Rose looked to the auctioneer and raised her hand. “Does it have a spa?”
Zephyr referred to his paper. “Three. Sauna. Bathtubs. Massage tables. A miniature theater. And suites that would compete with the Seven Heavens Honeymoon Suites. There will be some maintenance to do, of course.”
Rose turned to Bart. “If you are planning to have your own harem of ladies waiting in breathless anticipation of your approach, the least you could do is put them in the mood. Something like this would go a fair way towards that. The rest of the details, of course, would be up to you.”
“You translate currency.” Bart put his card up. “How about… two thousand dollars.”
Rose widened her eyes as she leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “And you have those funds currently available? Later payment by Formal Honor may entail extra scrutiny that may not be entirely favorable.”
Bart nodded, also keeping his voice low as he replied. “I have more than that in cash, right now. That’s from hitting rummage and estate sales, looking for furniture bargains, or just in case I needed to buy a cheap used car, if my own suddenly had problems. I just raised my traveling contingency fund a little bit.”
Most of the gathered bidders frowned, but several grimaced, and one sucked in a quick breath through their teeth.
“Wow!” Red widened his eyes. “That sounds like real money! You got some real ambition, kid!”
After a dozen seconds, a pixie flew over to the table and whispered into Zephyr’s ear. “I have seventeen gilded fire giant’s teeth.” He turned back to Bart. “Do I hear two thousand and fifty dollars?”
Bart nodded and held his card up. “Yep.”
There was no other activity. “Going once. Going twice.” Zephyr pointed at Bart. “Sold, to the cocky bastard holding card number thirteen!”
The crowd focused on Bart, gave a second of brief applause, then moved their attention back to the auctioneer as the next item up for bid was a thunderstorm.
“So, should we go and see it now?” Bart looked around for something that nearby that might match that description.
Ardegel stepped forward. “If we might volunteer our knowledge for a small future consideration?”
Rose nodded to him. “Certainly.”
Blygren joined the other imp. “Although we cannot reveal the details of our knowledge, on account of potential incrimination, we can definitely state that we know the relative position from this position to that mansion, on account of us being a part of the reason that the Baron needed to move from his old Realm to this one.”
Ardegel shook his head. “Crummy timing. Really bad luck there. The big issue is, the Baron’s Mansion is right on the edge of North Bregnip, up a really winding, narrow path. Really isolated.”
“And it would take you quite a while to get there.” Blygren grimaced. “At this rate, by the time you get there, the path, and maybe even the mountain would be gone.”
“The mansion would fall down, go boom.” Ardegel shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Rose tapped her fingers together. “The nature of your approach implies you have a solution. And is this potential solution the consideration you wished in return.”
Blygren whistled. “You are one smart lady. Hot looking, too.”
“We know people.” Ardegel waggled his eyebrows. “Efficient people. Strong people. Ones who do unreasonable jobs for a reasonable fee. Things like… relocation.”
“And we would, of course, get a finder’s fee.” Blygren nodded. “We are aspiring middlemen.”
“Is it going to cost more to move it than it was to buy it?” Bart asked. “If it’s that sort of scam, I’ll just let them move the mountain, and it can crash down.”
Rose sucked in a deep breath. “I am sure you have a way to accommodate these budgetary requirements.”
Ardegel and Blygren retreated, and had a heated, whispered conversation.
“What is with the sudden skepticism?” Rose asked.
“I’ve been burned before. Scavenging for parts, or even things for the theater. The shipping charge was ten times the item. Nope. I should have squared away the delivery price first.”
The conversation between the imps ended. “Yes! We can do it!” they said at the same time, although not at all synchronized.
Rose smiled. “Please arrange for the transportation of the mansion to Marmota.”