A Day in the Antique Trade
Author's Note
All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.
(All rights have been freely assigned to Knick Knack in return for much kindness. She has graciously permitted the posting of the tale.)
A Day in the Antique Trade
A Day in the Antique Trade
by
Glen Ten-Eyck
© 2013 by Glen Ten-Eyck
2227 words
Writing begun 03/17/13
Kinck Knack was humming to herself as she dusted and polished the case. She had to put her newly opened shop up for collateral to purchase the contents. She still wondered at the wisdom of doing so. Old Marchhare had brought several items in the past.
Each one was a valuable antique but often not what the old donkey thought that it was. Some had been pretty valuable and others of less but still fair worth. Surprisingly, Marchhare had never even attempted to bargain. Each thing had been something that sold quickly.
Knick Knack really hoped that these, a complete set of Coronation Cups from the Joint Coronation of Celestia and Luna as the Princesses of the Realm of Canterlot would sell too. And soon. After taking the loan to pay the old donkey, she was near to destitute.
What made these cups so valuable when other Coronation sets were available for a tenth of the β110,000 that she had paid for these? It was simple. These had passed authentication as being originals from the FIRST Coronation, prior to the Exile of Luna and later the terrible times of the Nightmare Moon. Writing to the Royal Archives in Canterlot had also proved that this set had never been reported as stolen. Not even the Royal Museum had a complete set like this one. Priceless.
There was a small jangling noise from the door bells on their spring. They were the fine work of Metalchanger in his forge outside of town. They could be rung by a small chain and bob from the outside of the shop but were cleverly designed to also ring if anypony tried to enter, however surreptitiously.
Turning quickly to face the door, the lighter and darker brown hair of her mane almost flying, Knick Knack saw an elderly blue unicorn through the small panes of the door. He was politely pulling the chain with his magic.
The white of his mane, tail and bearded muzzle proclaimed his age. Knick Knack pulled the door open for him and escorted him into her shop, noting the bulging of his shoulder purse.
As she was about to go for a guest cushion, the elderly unicorn slid it out with his magic and sat as if familiar with her store. Knick Knack was sure that she would have recognized the old fellow if he had ever been in the store before.
Politely, she offered, “How may I help you, sir?”
“De Writer,” he replied, “and you are Knick Knack. I would appreciate some of the tea that you have steeping in the back room. We can share it while you send for your assistant, Mortis.”
The surprised Knick Knack ducked her head in acquiescence. Taking a chalk in her teeth, she wrote on a slate board, “Mortis, please come to the shop. I need you. KK.” The writing lasted only a moment and disappeared as if rubbed out.
Knick Knack went into the back and brought out her tea service and laid it out on a small table. She set out three tea bowls and poured tea into two of them. She felt a light touch at her hind hocks and glanced back. The pale blue magic of her visitor was just leaving another cushion. Smiling her thanks, she sat.
They sipped the tea for a few moments. A brown unicorn with a gray mane sauntered into the shop. Kinck Knack gave him a smile as well and offered, “Mortis, pull up a cushion and sit. Have some tea. I am not sure why, but our guest has asked for you.”
Her visitor spoke. “You recently acquired a very rare set of cups. They cost you dearly, I know that. I have watched you more closely than you are aware of and for an excellent reason.
“What would you need to make to pay off the loan that you took out and make yourself a fair profit from those cups? They will need to be packed carefully for shipment to their Highnesses Celestia and Luna in Canterlot. I have one other item that you may send or keep for yourself. You may even send it later and charge their Majesties whatever you wish. That is why we need your assistant.”
They both regarded De Writer carefully. Mortis was looking puzzled and said, “There is something about you, sir, that puzzles me. May I check you with a simple identity spell?”
The blue unicorn nodded, his white beard bobbing. “I would be disappointed if you did not. There are considerable sums involved.”
A pulse of magic flowed from the brown unicorn's horn. Only one thing changed. Their visitor's cutie mark became an antique D with a quill pen behind it.
Knick Knack's eyes widened and she reached for her reference shelf. Ancient Equestrian Marks lay open on the table in almost no time. Mortis' eyes also looked a bit shocked.
“How old are you?” he asked in awe.
De Writer sat back a bit and said, “I really don't know. I was appointed Chronicler Royal by the mother of the Princesses. I recorded the laying of the first stones of Fortress Canterlot, before the Princesses were grown.”
He paused thoughtfully and added, “It has been a long time. I am tired.”
Knick Knack looked up from the book and said, “I believe you. This says that you disappeared just before the Exile of Luna. You would have been presumed dead, except that new pages keep showing up in the Chronicle on a regular basis.”
De Writer grinned, “I know. They seem to have given up trying to trace me by using those pages. I hope that I can settle here. Ponyville is a good place for an old unicorn.
“Now, about the money. You know where the purchase is to go. Do not forget to include packing, shipping and insurance. Name me an amount.”
Knick Knack got up and went behind her counter and pushed beads on a modern reproduction of an old Han abacus. As she was getting her answer, Mortis leaned over to their guest and whispered, “She won't get a modern machine. She says that is just as fast and it fits the mood of the shop better.”
De Writer, not bothering to whisper, retorted, “She is right, too.”
Returning to her place, Knick Knack said, “I am afraid that it may be impossible for you to get the set. With the insurance, it is β192,000.”
The old unicorn replied soberly, “That does seem like a lot but it is the insurance that is hitting you the hardest. You know that I have been about for a long time. I understand how business works. What are you going to get for a profit?”
Knick Knack smiled at the old blue unicorn and said, “I will get over β5,000.”
“I see.” De Writer rummaged in his shoulder purse and pulled out a draft book, quill and stamp. Gripped in experienced magic, the pen flew across the draft. The stamp followed. He extended the draft to her with his magic.
Knick Knack nearly dropped it in shock. She stuttered, “You, you have given me too much! This is for β200,000!”
Dryly, De Writer observed, “I did notice that and it is not a mistake. There is one more thing to be done. That β8,000 is for the rest of our business. First, get that draft approved at your bank.”
Kinck Knack turned to Mortis and asked, “Have you been truth checking De Writer?”
“Yes. And that draft is solid. I felt it when he wrote it.”
Knick Knack looked at De Writer and said firmly, “The bank can wait. I will trust you. What is the rest of our business?”
The blue unicorn simply laid his shoulder pouch on the table and, using magic only, fished out a spherical object a few inches across. It was a transparent and flawless pale green. It was attached to an ornate stand with three feet. Around the base was an inscription in an unfamiliar script.
Strain showing in the way that his magic was changing from a glowing cloud to slender lines, De Writer laid the object on the table in front of Knick Knack.
Before Mortis could stop her, she picked up the object and turned it about, reading the inscription. Mortis tried to reach for it with magic to take it from her. The magical recoil almost knocked him off of all four feet.
De Writer looking over the rim of his tea cup, observed, “It is perfectly safe for her, no matter how dangerous it is for anypony else. She is absolutely honest. I cannot tell you how long I have searched for a new guardian for the Orb of the Ages.”
Knick Knack looked at the old pony before her and said in a puzzled voice, “What is special about honesty?”
It was Mortis who answered first. “The simple fact that you can ask that question shows how special you are. Trust me.”
De Writer, in a voice filled with the weight of his millennia, asked her, “Will you take the Orb of the Ages? It can be a heavy burden.
“No matter what the legends say, it will not show the future. It shows only the past. The instant that it is perceived, the present is already the past. The only influence that it has is letting the user know what is happening in time to aid, influence or prevent.
“It will do one thing to you. It will trap your body in the moving instant of the present. You will not age nor can you be changed physically while you keep the Orb. You may think immortality is a gift but it is a deadly curse as well. Some will claim that your ongoing youth is an evil thing and try to hunt or hound you. You will see all of those dear to you age and die.
Tears in his eyes, he pleaded, “Please, take this burden from me.”
Knick Knack thought carefully and then asked, “You said that I might keep this or send it to their Majesties in Canterlot. Is there a reason that you have not done that?”
With a twist to his lips, De Writer said, “I am afraid so. I wrote some things in the Chronicles that sort of upset both of them. They wanted me to write what they wanted. The One who set me the task of Chronicler was very clear about being honest. I was sent away by the young Princesses.
“You are under no such restraint. I can teach your friend Mortis to make good wards to keep both you and the Orb of the Ages safe. You could return it without risk.”
Knick Knack took the Orb in her hooves and asked, “How do I use it? I have no magic.”
De Writer laughed in relief and said amazed, “No magic? Earth Magic may be different and not as flashy as unicorn and pegasi magic but it is the magic that is the true foundation of all the others. What is planted by Earth magic grows. What is built by Earth ponies stands. You are holding the Orb of the Ages securely in your hooves. You have the magic. Never doubt that.
“To use it just say aloud what is written around the base and you can see what you wish for the next hour. There are few limitations but some do exist. I have carried it for a long time. It cannot see me at all, as I could not see the One who created it.
“As I said earlier, it cannot see the future. What does not exist cannot be seen. Now that it is no longer mine, I can say the spell that starts it. “The Future is Forbidden.” Not even the One could see that.”
Honest concern in her voice, Knick Knack asked, “What will become of you now? Will you age and die like those around you or will you go on like you are?”
Getting up from the table and donning his shoulder bag, De Writer said, “That I do not know. I will find out in a few years, I expect. Thank you for taking this burden from me, Knick Knack.
“Come, Mortis. I have warding spells to show you that will make this shop impossible for ordinary ponies, including unicorns like us to harm.”
For the next hour Mortis found his magic linked to the old blue unicorn's while spell after spell expanded his knowledge of wards and other protective spells.
At the end of the session, Knick Knack interrupted to say, “I found out some of how you tested me, MARCHHARE, you old donkey!” She booped De Writer's nose with a grin. “You said that the Orb could not show you. I looked back some and I could not see that nice old donkey with antiques for sale. He was you in disguise!”
“True, Knick Knack! Well done. I must be going now. It is a pleasure to know you. Over a life as long as mine, one gets a LOT of antiques. I will be seeing you. Often.”
Pale blue magic from De Writer's horn flowed like water over his body. With a jangle of the door bells, the old donkey Marchhare, wandered out of Knick Knack's Antiques.
--THE END--
