looked even larger than it had from the outside, as if that was even possible. Shelves lined the floor and walls, there was even a stairway leading up to a second floor.
“There couldn’t be this much up there too can there?” Chad asked.
“Maybe,” replied Riyan.
The store had maybe two dozen customers moving along the free standing shelves lining the floor. Riyan stopped one of the ladies and asked, “Do you know where I can find Mr. Tinton?”
The lady glanced around the shop for a moment before saying, “You might try upstairs.”
“Thank you,” he said then headed for the stairway up.
They walked past shelves containing a variety of items ranging from tunics to rope, and even one shelf with a display of deadly looking knives. This place held more merchandize than a dozen chandler shops.
Upstairs they found more of the same. It didn’t look like the merchandise was laid out to any sort of plan either. For instance, in one spot as they began moving through the second floor in search of Tinton, they found one freestanding shelf containing nothing but blankets. On its right was another holding a variety of candles, while on its left were dozens of brass cooking pots. All in all, a very odd place.
They wended their way through the second floor and still didn’t find Tinton. When they saw an older boy that looked like he worked there, they flagged him down. “Excuse me,” Riyan said as the boy came to them, “could you tell me where I could find Mr. Tinton?”
“I’m Tinton,” the boy said.
“You?” asked Seth incredulously.
“Yes,” the lad said, turning to him. “Is there a problem with that?”
“Look sonny,” Seth said. “We don’t have time for games. We need to find him.”
A crooked smile crossed the lad’s face. “Well, when you find him, let me know.” With that he turned about and walked off.
“Someone should teach that kid some manners,” Seth said as the boy disappeared around one of the free standing shelves. The way the boy had said what he did, and then turned his back on him and walked away, grated on Seth’s nerves.
“We don’t have time to ‘teach him some manners’ right now,” Bart said. Looking around, he saw a man walking among the shelves not far away. The man was dressed well and had an air of ownership about him. “That must be him,” Bart said to the others. Moving forward, he worked his way through the shelves toward the man.
“Excuse me sir,” he said. “Would you be Mr. Tinton?”
The man stopped and turned toward him. “Me?” he asked with a laugh. “Hardly.”
“Could you point him out to me?” Bart asked. “We need to speak with him.”
“Assuredly,” the man replied. He glanced around for a moment then pointed down to their right. “There he is.”
Bart looked to where he was pointing and saw the older boy that they had talked with earlier. “The boy?” he asked incredulously.
“Boy?” the man retorted. “He’s over four hundred years old.” When Bart still looked confused, he said, “He’s a gnome.”
“A gnome?” he asked. The man nodded in return.
Then he took a better look at the lad, uh gnome, and could begin to see characteristics one would associate with such creatures. The slight upturned point to the ears, the youthful appearance that the eyes contradicted if you but looked.
None of them had ever seen a gnome before. Oh they had heard tales of them their whole lives, but who would have thought to find one in such a place. They were supposed to be cutesy little creatures that lived in the forest.
The boy, or rather Mr. Tinton, took notice of them looking his way. His gaze lingered in their direction for a second before he turned and began making his way through the store.
“Damn,” cursed Riyan under his breath as he hurried to catch him. Riyan wended his way through the freestanding shelves as he worked to catch Mr. Tinton. Behind him, the others hurried after.
“Mr. Tinton!” Riyan hailed when
“There couldn’t be this much up there too can there?” Chad asked.
“Maybe,” replied Riyan.
The store had maybe two dozen customers moving along the free standing shelves lining the floor. Riyan stopped one of the ladies and asked, “Do you know where I can find Mr. Tinton?”
The lady glanced around the shop for a moment before saying, “You might try upstairs.”
“Thank you,” he said then headed for the stairway up.
They walked past shelves containing a variety of items ranging from tunics to rope, and even one shelf with a display of deadly looking knives. This place held more merchandize than a dozen chandler shops.
Upstairs they found more of the same. It didn’t look like the merchandise was laid out to any sort of plan either. For instance, in one spot as they began moving through the second floor in search of Tinton, they found one freestanding shelf containing nothing but blankets. On its right was another holding a variety of candles, while on its left were dozens of brass cooking pots. All in all, a very odd place.
They wended their way through the second floor and still didn’t find Tinton. When they saw an older boy that looked like he worked there, they flagged him down. “Excuse me,” Riyan said as the boy came to them, “could you tell me where I could find Mr. Tinton?”
“I’m Tinton,” the boy said.
“You?” asked Seth incredulously.
“Yes,” the lad said, turning to him. “Is there a problem with that?”
“Look sonny,” Seth said. “We don’t have time for games. We need to find him.”
A crooked smile crossed the lad’s face. “Well, when you find him, let me know.” With that he turned about and walked off.
“Someone should teach that kid some manners,” Seth said as the boy disappeared around one of the free standing shelves. The way the boy had said what he did, and then turned his back on him and walked away, grated on Seth’s nerves.
“We don’t have time to ‘teach him some manners’ right now,” Bart said. Looking around, he saw a man walking among the shelves not far away. The man was dressed well and had an air of ownership about him. “That must be him,” Bart said to the others. Moving forward, he worked his way through the shelves toward the man.
“Excuse me sir,” he said. “Would you be Mr. Tinton?”
The man stopped and turned toward him. “Me?” he asked with a laugh. “Hardly.”
“Could you point him out to me?” Bart asked. “We need to speak with him.”
“Assuredly,” the man replied. He glanced around for a moment then pointed down to their right. “There he is.”
Bart looked to where he was pointing and saw the older boy that they had talked with earlier. “The boy?” he asked incredulously.
“Boy?” the man retorted. “He’s over four hundred years old.” When Bart still looked confused, he said, “He’s a gnome.”
“A gnome?” he asked. The man nodded in return.
Then he took a better look at the lad, uh gnome, and could begin to see characteristics one would associate with such creatures. The slight upturned point to the ears, the youthful appearance that the eyes contradicted if you but looked.
None of them had ever seen a gnome before. Oh they had heard tales of them their whole lives, but who would have thought to find one in such a place. They were supposed to be cutesy little creatures that lived in the forest.
The boy, or rather Mr. Tinton, took notice of them looking his way. His gaze lingered in their direction for a second before he turned and began making his way through the store.
“Damn,” cursed Riyan under his breath as he hurried to catch him. Riyan wended his way through the freestanding shelves as he worked to catch Mr. Tinton. Behind him, the others hurried after.
“Mr. Tinton!” Riyan hailed when
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