“I have my reasons,” I dodged loftily.
“Well, so has Don Bruce,” Shai-ster scowled. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a few questions about this place. If we try to move in here, won’t language be a problem? I can’t understand anything these freaks are saying.”
“Take a look,” I instructed, pointing.
Don Bruce and the Deveel proprietor were haggling earnestly, obviously having no difficulty understanding each other, however much they disagreed.
“No Deveel worth his salt is going to let a little thing like language stand in the way of a sale.”
“Hey, everybody! Look what I got!”
We turned to find Don Bruce bearing down on us, proudly waving a small rod the same color as his clothes.
“It’s a magic wand!” he exclaimed. “I got it for a song.”
“A song plus some gold, I’d wager,” Shai-ster observed dryly. “What does it do?”
“What does it do?” Don Bruce grinned. “Watch this.”
He swept the wand across the air with a grand gesture, and a cloud of shiny dust sparkled to the ground.
“That’s it?” Shai-ster grimaced.
Don Bruce frowned at the wand.
“That’s funny. When the guy back there did it, he got a rainbow.”
He pointed the wand at the ground and shook it… and three blades materialized out of thin air, lancing into the dust at our feet.
“Careful!” Shai-ster warned, hopping back out of range. “You’d better read the instructions on that thing.”
“I don’t need instructions,” Don Bruce insisted. “I’m a fairy godfather. I know what I’m doing.”
As he spoke, he gestured emphatically with the wand, and a jet of flame narrowly missed one of the bodyguards.