The Case of the Toxic Spell Dump

The dealers who'd been delayed were all setting up their stalls in a tearing hurry. When you try to rush things, a lot of the time you end up doing them wrong. Some of the dealers seemed as if they were doing music hall comedy turns: poles and awnings and signs would go up, then a second later they'd fall down again. One guy had his skin fall over three times in a row. After the third time, he gave it a good kick.

Maybe that knocked the gremlins loose, because on the fourth try it stayed where he put it.

A couple of minutes later - right at ten - I found out why - the dealers were in such a frantic rush. The customer gates opened then, right on time, and never mind that the dealers had been delayed. losef was not about to waste a chance: if he'd held up the customers, some of them might have gotten miffed and gone home.

And customers he had aplenty: Jews, Persians, Hanese and Japanese, and Indians, none of whose Sabbath rituals were disturbed by getting there on Sunday and spending money. Along with them were a goodly - but not godly - number of folks I'd have guessed to be Christian, both of Aztecan descent and every other variety. Some people of any faith feel more attachment to money than to any other god.

It may seem crazy, but every once in a while I wish the Confederation were a little less prosperous, a little less secure. In flush times, people think of themselves, and the devil with anybody and anything else. They sometimes need reminding that what's happening now isn't Forever.

Which probably sounds like sour grapes, since I was out there shopping right alongside everybody else. But you wouldn't - I don't think - have found me there on a Saturday.

Judy and I wandered up one asphalt aisle and down the next, pausing at one stall here, another one there. Judy picked up a green silk scarf that went well with her redbrown hair. I bought a new alarm clock; I was sick of the shrieking horror I had at home, and even sicker of it laughing at me. This one was made in Siam, with a native horological demon. It cost less than five crowns. If I didn't like it, I'd toss it, too, and try one more time.

We both got sausages on buns from a Persian fellow's pushcart. Given his own faith, he wasn't one who'd sell pork.

I think I mentioned that one of the dealers had brought in a load of grimoires. Getting a scarf or a dock at a place like that is one thing, but it never ceases to amaze me that people think you can acquire sorcerous skill and power on the cheap. As with anything important, you need to learn from the one who's best, not the one with the best price.

Naturally, Judy paused at the display. She flipped through a couple of volumes, turned away shaking her head. The fellow who was hawking them scowled in disappointment; he thought he'd found another sucker.

That bad?" I asked.

"Worse," she said. "The fatter book there is one of those compendia of spells in the public domain, and they're in the public domain because they weren't very good to begin with.

The other one, the one in the blue binding, is one of those teach-yourself-to-be-a-mage-in-three-weeks books. I spotted a couple of typos toward the end. They might be dangerous under other circumstances."

"Why not now?"

"Because ninety-nine people out of a hundred won't get far enough in the course to stumble across them and the odd one, the one who does stick to it, will have learned enough to spot them before he does something stupid."

"Okay, I see what you're saying. That makes sense."

But once she got rolling, Judy wasn't one who stopped easily: "The folks who buy those things are the same women who'll plunk down fifty crowns for a 'magic' cream to make their breasts bigger - or men who'll pay a couple of hundred for 'magic' to make something else bigger. The only magic there is the one that the people who sell this land of junk have for spotting fools."

She didn't bother to keep her voice down; a couple of middle-aged ladies who'd been about to inspect the grimoires took off for another stall as if they'd been caught looking at something blasphemous. "Lady, please," whined the guy who was peddling the junk. Tm tryingto make aliving."

"So why don't you try to make an honest one?" she said, but then she threw her hands in the air. "What's the use?"

I'd seen her in those moods before. The only thing to do is get her interested in something new. I said, "Look over there at the jewelry that woman is selling. It isn't something you see every day."