“That’s about the lowest…”
“Hey! The name’s ‘the Geek,’ not ‘the Red Cross’! I don’t do charity. Folks come to me to bet, not for handouts.”
I haven’t thrown a punch at anyone since I started practicing magic, but I was sorely tempted to break that record just this one. Instead, I turned to the little girl.
“Get your things, Markie. Daddy’s taking you to your new home.”
My partner and I were currently basing our operations at the Bazaar at Deva, which is the home dimension of the Deveels. Deevels are reputed to be the sharpest merchants, traders, and hagglers in all the known dimensions. You may have heard of them in various folk tales in your own home dimension. Their fame lingers even in dimensions they have long since stopped trading in.
The Bazaar is the showcase of Deva … in fact, I’ve never seen a part of Deva that wasn’t the Bazaar. Here the Deveels meet to trade with each other, buying and selling the choicest magics and miracles from all the dimensions. It’s an around-the-clock, over-the-horizon sprawl of tents, shops, and barter blankets where you can acquire anything your imagination can conjure as well as a lot of things you never dreamed existed … for a price. Many inventors and religious figures have built their entire career from items purchased in one trip to the bazaar. Needless to say, it is devastating to the average budget… even if the holder of the purse strings has above-average sales resistance.
Normally I enjoy strolling through the booths, but tonight, with Markie beside me, I was too distracted to concentrate on the displays. It occurred to me that, fun as it is for adults, the Bazaar is no place to raise a child.