I had been cleaning a lot more these past few months to keep my mind off… things.

  Currently, I was staining the shelves. It looked really great, if I say so myself. I got the supplies from Karla; the Kobold owner of Karla’s Spices and Wares, since there was no way my store would ever sell something so mundane.

  Which, consequently, we had “Asset Procured” three more times since the last time. At least this time I paid for the stuff…

  “Hey It, why do they call me a Warlock?” I asked, idly listening to the terrified whisperings floating from the Aisle Two. “Don’t Warlocks sell their soul or something?”

  It stared at me.

  Then at Vaarg.

  Then back to me.

  He rolled his eyes and turned to walk away.

  I was a little offended.

  “The cloaks called me a ‘Cleaning Warlock’, not a ‘Vaarg Warlock’,” I hissed.

  The cloaks went silent.

  Now, I know it might seem weird, but I had been around them long enough. I knew this particular silence meant disbelief.

  Don’t ask me how I knew.

  It slumped slightly and turned back around, slowly raising his eyes until they met my good one.

  I had to admit, the dim gloom of the store did add to his theatrics.

  “Beeg,” he began with the exhausted exhale of an underpaid mentor.

  Which wasn’t that far off, now that I think of it.

  “Have you ever heard of a Warlock affixing the name of their patron to their title?”

  “Did you just… monotone sass?” I blurted without thinking.

  Stupid giggled from the top shelf 20 feet above me. I have no idea how she got up there, but it probably included a portal.

  It pursed his lips as if he had eaten something sour.

  “Look at your tome from the library, it is about a ‘Cleaning Warlock’,” he graciously overlooked my offense.

  I’d have to get him a roasted newt later.

  “Please don’t tell me you think there is a powerful creature out there named ‘Cleaning’ handing out pacts?”

  He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

  “You’re named It,” I deadpanned. “And she is Stupid,” I pointed straight up at Stupid, who was so high it was normally only darkness, except the Store had sprouted an extra candle, just for her.

  She waved back happily. I returned a smile.

  It was It’s turn to deadpan me.

  “Semantics,” he stated, clearing his throat and moving on.

  My jaw dropped.

  “Let’s focus on what’s important,” he reiterated, raising a finger to forestall my argument. “You started here as a human with slightly pointy ears —“

  “I’m a half-elf!“ I cut in with disbelief.

  Of course, It kept right on monotoning.

  “Again, Semantics. As I was saying. With no powers, nor redeeming qualities.” He paused to think. “Well, except maybe for your resilience,” he amended with a nod, “legendary tier, that one is.”

  I couldn’t decide if I was offended or… no, just offended.

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  Above us, Stupid giggled and dropped a jar. It plummeted to the ground, shattering and releasing jellied tentacle goo everywhere.

  Which—of course—was the point. She was still fascinated with the idea I could make dirty things disappear with “Cleaning Magic.”

  *’Disappear’ meaning ‘Extra Work for Beeg’,* I thought sourly.

  In fact, it was the whole reason she was sitting 20 feet in the air. Except she was terrible at hiding and forgot every few minutes that she was supposed to be hiding — and waved at me.

  Or dropped a new jar to clean.

  “Anyway, you started… let’s call it ‘average’,” It nodded. I narrowed my eye. “Now, an ancient behemoth allows you to paint its shelves,“ here the cloaks started whispering animatedly in an agreement-whisper.

  Yes, I knew what that one sounded like, too.

  “And your patron appears with his court to rearrange the face of the world if someone not himself is dumb enough to torment you.”

  I opened my mouth.

  I closed my mouth.

  I raised a finger.

  I dropped said finger.

  The store creaked.

  Stupid giggled.

  It nodded and sauntered away.

  There was no way he was getting the last word.

  “Court?” I strangled out.

  Rather than the embarrassment I was expecting, he threw a smile over his shoulder.

  “Oh yes Beeg. You are only just beginning to learn.”

  Then he exited the Aisle and was gone.

  “Beeg! We need to discuss your taxes!” Vaarg’s voice slithered through the shadows.

  I sighed, tapping the floor with my foot. The store creaked open a hole in the floor for me to put my things in. Things being the stain and varnish. And brushes. I had to get extra brushes because the Store apparently liked the taste of brushes and kept eating them when I put them down. Twice now the Store had opened a small hole mid-stroke just to nibble off half the bristles.

  I shoved the items in amidst the rest of my cleaning supplies.

  “Thanks, buddy,” I whispered in the dimly lit hall of Aisle Three. The store creaked back happily.

  “He opens portals into the Store itself to store his magics, and it obeys,” one of the cloaks whispered in awe.

  I paused. That is not at all what just happened, I complained.

  I sighed and turned to walk to the front, pulling my hooded cloak around me to ward off the cold — because of course Vaarg was too cheap to heat the store, my wooden leg clicking steadily through the darkness.

  ____

  “…Beeg, would you stop clicking your leg just because it sounds cool,” Vaarg sighed as I made my way to the front.

  “What do you want me to do, float?” I replied.

  Although… it did sound cool, I thought defensively.

  “I don’t know. Replace it with a rubber mallet. Or wrap it with one of your beloved dusting rags,” he responded.

  “You want me to replace my leg with a rubber mallet,” I stated in disbelief.

  “No. I want you to be quiet,” he responded, drawing out the last word like it was the last note of an opera.

  I sighed.

  “You wanted to discuss taxes?” I asked tiredly.

  “Oh yes, this lady here,” he pointed to a small mouse standing on its hind legs, barely a foot tall. Ok, huge for a mouse, small in comparison to everything else.

  “She is from the guild for uh… Well it has to do with collecting taxes,” he finished, clearly uninterested. “She says our store has been ‘evading’ taxes.”

  He chortled, as if the very idea was funny. I didn’t think it was funny, it was probably true. And the last person who tried to rectify it was probably on a shelf to be sold somewhere.

  I looked at the mouse, who was so small I really hadn’t noticed her before. She was staring at me in terror, clutching her baby-pink handbag to her chest and visibly trembling.

  When I thought about it, I was several feet taller than Vaarg, who was the tallest one in the store beside me.

  In my cloak, I probably looked like some kind of hooded giant.

  Poor thing.

  “Hmm, that’s strange. She was so very… verbose a moment ago,” he drawled thoughtfully.

  “Beeg, step to the side,” he barked.

  I stepped to the side, my leg clicking as I went.

  The mouse’s eyes darted to my leg as I walked, licking her lips and flicking towards the exit.

  Vaarg smiled. “Beeg, come here, please,” he said sweetly. Well, his version of sweetly.

  So I walked towards him, which unfortunately also meant I walked towards the lady.

  “Oh Nine-Hells!” she shrieked, scrambling towards the door. “Oh Help Me! Somebody please save me! Oh no please, I see no issues with taxes here! Please!” She squeaked almost too fast to hear.

  But Vaarg heard her, his smile growing into a self-satisfied grin. He waved and the store opened the door to let her out.

  I stared at Vaarg.

  He stared at me.

  “You can keep the leg.”

  I rolled my eye and headed back to my Aisle.