The Clock Winked (The Sagittan Chronicles Book 2) (3 page)

“I guess not. I thought no one would show up, but word must
spread fast around here.”

“Probably a book club phone tree,” said Bronwyn, giving a
small chuckle.

At eight o’clock sharp Auvek opened the door. A flood of
people rushed into the shop, talking animatedly and immediately gravitating
towards the discount shelves.

“Never since I've been alive has an Oliphant opened the shop
on time!” an elderly woman announced loudly.

“Upon my word,” another old woman added, “I've never seen
such a young Oliphant doing so well!”

“In all my years,” a silver-haired man interjected, “I've
never seen such low prices. Oliphant was a stickler for keeping his money!
A tight-wad, that old geezer!”

“Which old geezer you talking about?” someone shouted.
“They're all old geezers!”

A chorus of laughter filled the shop.

“Young man, are you an Oliphant?” An elderly man in a suit
and wearing a monocle hobbled up to the desk. He leaned heavily on an ornately
carved cane with a gold handle.

“Yessir.
Auvek
Oliphant the thirty-seventh.”

A hush fell over the shop.

“Auvek?
An accountant?” the man
asked.

“Yessir.
I'm doing an internship
with my Uncle William.”

“Ah.” The noise level in the shop resumed to normal. The man
scratched his nose. “Well, where is the young fellow?”

The bell dinged.
In stumbled Oliphant,
shirtless and with a plastic cup over his fist.
“People
in my shop.
Whoa. Who are you?” He stared at Auvek, moving his face
closer and closer, leaning precariously over the counter. His breath reeked of
alcohol.

“Auvek.
Your
intern.”

“Oliphant, Oliphant, funny, funny Oliphant,” Oliphant sang.

“You're drunk. Go to bed,” Auvek ordered him.

“Nephey-poo telling me what to do,” he continued singing. “
Me
do what I want to doooo!” He ended with a flourish,
waving his arm through the air and then slapping the counter clumsily. Then he
giggled and lay down in the middle of the floor. In seconds he was fast asleep.

Auvek sighed. “Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, while we take
care of this little problem. Feel free to keep browsing.”

“We could put him in there,” Bronwyn suggested, pointing at
the door Oliphant had forbidden him to open.

“He told me not to open that door. I’m not sure it’s such a
good idea…”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do with him?” Bronwyn
put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows. “It would take hours to drag
him outside and to his house, assuming he has one around here somewhere. And we
have customers waiting! Unless there’s somewhere else we can stash him?”

“His house is right out back, but you’re right—the customers
come first. I’m sure my Uncle would agree, were he actually sober. I don’t know
of any other rooms, so let's check to make sure there's no avalanche behind
this door, first,” Auvek replied. He strode over and opened the door a crack.
To his surprise, the room behind it was clean. It only contained a large table
and a few chairs; dusty curtains hung over the windows.

“Works for me.”
Auvek leaned down
and grabbed Oliphant by the armpits and pulled, grunting.
“Too
heavy.”

Bronwyn bent down to help. Each grabbed an arm and dragged
him across the wooden floorboards and into the back room. They left him lying
in a heap in a corner with a book as a pillow.

“It's good to know that this man is supposed to be my role
model,” Auvek muttered as he closed the door behind him.

“I wonder what's so special about that room.” Bronwyn moved
back behind the counter.
“Nothing in it.”

“Probably some William Oliphant family secret,” Auvek
suggested. “May I help you, sir?”

A youngish customer, probably in his mid-300s, sidled up to
the counter, glancing shiftily over his shoulder as he slid his card across the
desk. The card read “Sauvignon Pincer, journalist,” and the letters of his name
seemed to extend from the branches of a beautifully illustrated tree. The paper
was dark and stiff—almost like cardboard. “Mind if I ask you a few questions? I'm
a reporter for the Pomegranate City Star.”

Auvek glanced at Bronwyn. She shrugged, and suggested, “Free
publicity?”

“Sure,” Auvek answered. “But can you ask me while I check
out customers?”

“Of course, of course.
And you can
call me Salve for short.”

“What can I do for you?” Auvek asked the customer standing
right behind Salve. He gestured for Salve to move aside. “Good morning, ma'am.
Will this be all?”

The customer handed him four books, all with fifty percent
off stickers. Her fingers were drowning in rings.

“There are some rumors concerning William Oliphant, the
thirty-third. Was he, in fact, arrested by state officials several months ago?”
the reporter asked.

“I believe it was several years ago,” Auvek corrected.
“Oliphant, the thirty-fourth has been here for two years.”

“And the inheritor of the estate is, in fact, the drunken
gentlemen sleeping in the next room?”

“I don't know who owns what, only that he lives here. Have a
good day, ma'am.” He pushed the books across the counter to the woman with a
dozen rings.

“Well, you know,” she said, “when they came to arrest the
thirty-third, it wasn't state officials, no, it was the interplanetary police.
That's what my niece
said,
she was right outside when
it happened. Said he was crying and begging them not to take his store, that it
wasn't his fault.” The old woman nodded. “We pay attention to these things, you
know. Arrests aren't good for the community.”

“Although, it can’t all be true,” called a woman from across
the room. “Clearly they didn’t take his store.”

“No one said they
was
going to!”
exclaimed the woman with a dozen rings. “He just thought they
was
!”

“
Yes,
and this here store was
blocked off for weeks,” the gentleman behind her added. He had a top hat.
“Couldn't come or go.
Couldn't buy anything.
But you
know what? The people from the Globe who build planets, their scientists, they
were the ones who kept coming in and out and in and out. It was all mighty
strange, if you ask me.”

“We heard there were drugs involved,” called a middle-aged
woman from over by the shelves.
“Drugs and slave
trafficking.”

“The Life Stars, that crazy cult that appeared a few years
ago, were all up and angry about it, if I recall,” the journalist said.

“Rioted outside the Globe,” the first woman added. “Said
Oliphant hadn't done anything wrong. But then the case went all hush-hush and
they released that statement about breaking and entering into the Globe or some
such nonsense.”

“Sounds like a cover-up to me!” the gentleman stated
resolutely. “Government keeps all kinds of secrets these days!”

“Can I help whoever is next please?” Auvek called over the
commotion. The woman with rings moved towards the door and the top-hatted
gentleman took her place.

“So why have you come to
William Oliphant, bookseller
's
little hovel?” Salve asked.

“It's an internship,” Auvek replied. “There isn't much
chance of me inheriting
Auvek Oliphant, accountant
, so my father thought
it would be a good idea for me to intern somewhere else in the family. There
aren't any more Williams old enough, so we picked here.”

“How did you convince William the thirty-fourth to agree to
it?”

“He was drunk. Here you go sir, have a wonderful day.”

“I will, lad. And thank you for bringing some respectability
back to this ancient establishment!” The gentleman tipped his top hat and
strode confidently out the door.

“Just a few more questions,” the reporter continued. “What
do you plan to do with the place?”

“I can't do anything without Uncle Will's permission,” Auvek
replied.

“What would you like to do with the place?”

“Clean it. I'm sorry, but could you please come back when
we're not so busy?” Four people now stood in line at his register. “I’m feeling
a bit distracted, and I would really like to be able to answer your questions
all the way. I’m sure I could give you more interesting details if I felt less
rushed.”

“Oh, of course,” Salve replied. “I’ll come back soon, to
finish our chat—hopefully when it’s less busy. I'm delighted to have made your
acquaintance. Please keep the card. Have a wonderful day, and I hope your sale
is successful!”

“Bye,” Auvek replied. He glanced at Bronwyn.

“Well,” she said after the bell had rung the journalist's
exit, “He'll have a field day with that one.”

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity. Hundreds of
customers swarmed the shop, looking for all sorts of books and eating up nearly
all the volumes on the fifty percent off shelf. A hum filled the air; it was a
mixture of sounds from pages flipping to quiet chatter, overlaid by the snores
emanating from the next room. Eventually the customers had their fill and at
five o’clock the last few customers ambled out of the shop.

“I'm starving,” Bronwyn said. “Let's get pizza.”

“If you want to go grab some, I'll give you money.”

“You don't have to pay for it!” she protested.

“You’re not getting paid. It’s the least I can do,” he
replied. “Besides, I'm going to expense it. Here.” He handed her a handful of
cash. “I'll eat anything.”

“Great!
Won’t argue with free pizza!”
She darted out of the shop.

“You know it's not smart to just hand cash to people you
don't know very well,” a voice said from somewhere within the maze of shelves.

“Who's back there?” Auvek called. “We're closing.”

“Forgive me for taking so long. I'm a bit stiff.” Something
crashed.

Auvek climbed over a pile of books and peered around the
edge of a bookshelf towards the avalanche. “Do you need help?”

“Just give me a moment.” A dark figure crawled over the heap
of books pouring from the back room and tumbled down onto the floor in front of
Auvek. “My name is Simon.”

Auvek raised his eyebrows. In front of him sat a monkey
covered in light gray, almost white fur and with a pitch black face. It looked
up at him. “I've been in that room for quite a while.”

“A monkey?”
Auvek asked, a look of
disbelief crossing his face. “A monkey was in that room?”

“To be precise,” Simon stated clearly, “I am a copy of a
Vervet Monkey found on the Southern and Eastern parts of the continent Africa
on planet Earth, built by Lake Oliphant, the sixteenth, engineer. I run on an
X15 Turbo-553 engine. My chief function is to aid and assist the current
William Oliphant in the execution of his tasks, and to keep
William
Oliphant, bookseller
, running smoothly and profitably.”

“You're a robot?” Auvek asked. His mouth opened. “But...
but...”

“You're probably wondering why I appeared to an Auvek,”
Simon stated.

“A little.”
Auvek shook his head,
trying to clear the rising cloud of questions that had exploded in his mind as
the monkey introduced himself.

“Indeed. Well, do you know much about the history of the
William Oliphant line?”

“Well, the previous one got arrested, and the other one is
drunk.”

“Precisely.
This place is going to
be claimed by a bank if someone doesn't fix it. And I've picked you to save us.
You have my allegiance, Master Auvek Oliphant the thirty-seventh.”

“Um, thanks?” Auvek said.

“What would you like for me to do first?” Simon bowed a
little and held out his hands in a gesture service.

Auvek turned and strode toward the counter. His fingers
twitched. “Um, could you find me a copy of
The Clock That Ticked for Ten
Thousand Years
?”

“Of course.
A
very valuable volume.
We own three copies.” Simon disappeared into the
heaps of books.

The bell dinged. Bronwyn appeared with a large pizza.

“Oh, excellent,” Auvek exclaimed, reaching for a piece as
soon as she opened the box.

Simon appeared from the heaps of books with a very battered
looking volume.

Bronwyn's mouth opened. “You have a monkey?”

“A Vervet Monkey, apparently,” Auvek replied. “His name is
Simon.”

Simon bowed.
“Pleased to make your
acquaintance, Mistress Bronwyn.”
He reached out to hand her the book.
“Here is our newest copy of
The Clock That Ticked for Ten Thousand Years.
”

“A talking monkey?”
Bronwyn's mouth
opened further. “It talks?”

“Just say thanks for the book,” Auvek answered, and took a
bite of pizza.

“Um, thanks for the book.”

Simon's head swiveled towards the back room door. Thumping
sounds could be heard coming from the other side. He leaped onto the nearest
bookcase.

“Call me if you need me,” he said, and scampered over the
shelves, disappearing into the dark mound of literature.

“So hung over!”
Oliphant
complained, pulling open the door.
“Ow, bright lights.
Where's my bed?”

“It's in the house,” Auvek replied.

“Pizza,” Oliphant groaned. “It smells.
Makes
me feel like puking.”

“Not in here!” Bronwyn exclaimed. She carefully escorted him
to the front door.

He stumbled down the sidewalk and towards the house.

“He's going to be fun to deal with when he wakes up again,”
Bronwyn commented, pulling the door closed behind her.

“Why are you interested in the Clock of Legend?” Auvek
asked.

“I have some relatives who were involved in the original
event.” Bronwyn shrugged, grabbing a slice of pizza. “But I should...”