Chapter 10

chapter ten My mayoral campaign is off to a strong start—we get our first supporter not fifteen minutes later while walking down one of the mall's many hallways in search of election supplies. "You have my vote, Dirk's friend," says a low, unfamiliar voice. I pause and look around. Who on the Mallusk knows Dirk? The voice is coming from a mall kiosk: "Every Little Thing We Sell Is MAGIK."

Hey, it's yoursel yoursel. These are my buddies. June Quint and Jack. Guys, you're still help me out a bit-after I beat her in a game of HORSE, I WILL HAVE MY REMATCH. The two unlikely friends catch up while I remember what Dirk told us about Yursl: weird conjurer type, helped him out in a pinch. Here in her mall kiosk, she's surrounded by a cloud of glowing mist, and her skin glows a faint neon purple. It would all be very mystical if she weren't spinning a basketball on her fingertips and arguing with Dirk about best and worst Dunk Contest champions. Also, the mist is not magical at all. I only figure that out after Yursl begins coughing, curses the fog machine at her feet, and shuts it off with a swift kick. "I have so many questions..." Quint says, eyeing the kiosk with awe.

"Hey dudes," June says. "I'm going to check out that paper goods store. We're going to need a lot of paper goods for our campaign." "Sure," I agree. "Wait, why?" "Jack." June raises her eyebrows at me. "Trust the expert." "I'll help," Dirk offers. "I'll do whatever it takes. I have a lot riding on you winning," he adds. "Y'know?" I nod, picturing Drooler in his cage. "I know." Dirk gives a wave. "Yursl, I'll see you around?" "Not if I see you first," she says. Then, after a moment, she adds, "Which I will. Of course. 'Cause, y'know. Conjurer powers." With Dirk gone, Quint can ask this strange witch-type lady all his questions. Which, because it's Quint, are a lot of questions.

Excuse me, your What is all this? It may have previously been an ordinary magic and gag kiosk, but now Glowing crystals, throbbing blobs. It's anything but ordinary. IDEAL IN CONJURE OBJECTS AND ITEMS. Look finger drops. "Do you think..." Quint seems suddenly bashful. "Could I maybe learn how to use some of these conjurer objects? Would you possibly... teach me?" But I can't wait for Yursl to answer, because I'm realizing I maybe made a giganto mistake. "Uh, hey, guys? Er... ma'am?" I say, lifting my hands, which I have just stuck inside one of those little finger traps. "Uh, there's something wrong with this finger—OW! It's, like, alive and—yep, it is currently

gnawing on my pointer fingers. Could you remove this now, please, please?" Yursl just stares at Quint, totally ignoring my finger- devouring dilemma. "Your stick... It reminds me of a conjurer's cane. May I hold it?" Quint happily hands it over. "Conjurer's cane..." he says softly, and I can tell he likes the sound of that— way more than "staff" or "stick." "Yes, very reminiscent..." Yursl says, turning it over in her hands. "The shape, of course. But more than that... its intention." "Um... 'intention'?" Quint asks. "Well, when I began building it, I had extensive plans... but then we got started on this road trip, and I haven't had much time to work on it."

I MEAN, ITS PURPOSE. OK we get it. You're very wowed by Quint Stick-Cane and its INTENTION and purpose. Now please GET THESE FINGER EATERS OFF MY FINGERS. "Oh... Oh!" Quint says, finally noticing that I'm in real danger. "Right. Um, Ms. Yursl? Would you mind helping out my friend?" "Let me put that question back to you," Yursl responds. "Since you're interested in conjurer objects, what would you use to free your friend's hands from the grasp of the Schloop?" "Hmm..." Quint taps his chin as he looks around the kiosk, his eyes sliding across bubbling cauldrons, oddly shaped bottles, and glowing keys. "There are just so