House of Sacrifice

“Doctors are mad, scientists are baffled! The scribes’ wrist ache and the bards can't stop singing. Your dreams? They come true. Your enemies’ nightmares? They'll never end.” The assault on the senses carried out by a small jar was the first thing to greet me at ‘Korban's House of Sacrifice’.

The jar, Wilfred, flew about promoting some enchanted cinnamon sticks emphasized by wisps of green light and blue sparks held within it.

“Come Wilfred” called a voice from the far end of the store “you’ll do more to scare people off than get them to take anything home with that approach”.

The House of Sacrifice on Market Street was the first registered magiceer in the city, and despite its ominous name, its good reputation preceded it. I guess that legacy is why I found myself at the store's threshold, trying to wrangle my hesitation into submission. I leaned forward, hoping that gravity and any other law of physics which still found its place in a changed world would be on my side.

I knew this place's schedule like the back of my hand. My more recent extensive research into peak and off-peak hours was eclipsed by a perpetual window-shopping habit. I would find myself drifting into the store seduced by my curiosity more frequently than I had reason to walk down Market Street. A deep desire to know the unknown and unveil the novel, combined with a roster of magical goods that metaphorically and literally flew off the shelves, meant that there was always something new to see, and I was always there to see it.

However, this time my eyes were set on something greater, a legacy of my own, perhaps. Not through the mere purchase of magical item but prospecting this era's gold mines. I would dedicate myself to the House of sacrifice immersing myself in this study of its in infinite wares.

The obstacle that stood before me was Shaen Jiddan. The sole proprietor of Korban's House of Sacrifice was a man who claimed to hail from the “other world” that crashed into our own at the time of the Confluence, yet had no known roots in either. Such cases were not entirely anomalous, though often considered dubious. I didn't care, all I cared about were the promises of dreams realized that flowed into one’s mind like a river delta into the sea, depositing the sweet sediment of unrealized possibility that made mortals feel immense. It made the old feel young and the young feel old enough, and I wanted that. Not the magic itself, but the magic of hope that the wares carried.

“Hello, Shaen.”

“Hello Mr. Wolk.”

“Come on, age aside, I was hoping we'd be past formalities.”

 “Fine, Hikmah, what would you be interested in not buying today?”

“I'm very rarely interested in not buying anything. My apologies, it's usually about my ability to purchase. You know that.”

“Especially these days, I assume. You've been showing up during work hours. My condolences.”

“Such is life, it's a blessing I've managed to hold on this long. It’s a miracle I managed to keep my job when AI started taking people’s jobs, let alone competing with magic solutions.”

A music box shaped like a ladybug fluttered down onto the counter, settled into place, and slowly started to open its wings up and let music seep out. Shaen gently petted the box’s wings closed and ushered it back onto the shelf.

“So, what brings you here? Not looking for a job, are you?” he said, seemingly joking.

“That's actually exactly why I'm here. Since my first time seeing your store, I have hardly been able to imagine myself feeling enthusiastic about waking up and going anywhere else every day.”

“Don't I know it. Listen, Mr... Hikmah-”

“I will be nothing but an asset to this place”, I interrupted.

“Bold. Do you know what the most important thing in my line of work is?”

“Efficiency?”

“No, it's whether or not people like you. Do you believe people like you?”

“I don't think people dislike me.”

“Even though you clearly have an issue with interrupting them- “

“I mean, you don't dislike me.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“Well, I come here pretty much every day and haven't bought but one or two things.”

“You know exactly how many things you've bought from here.”

“Two, but you don't kick me out.”

“Because I'm holding out in the hope that you'll buy a third and a fourth thing, maybe.”

“I'm not so sure. You probably would kick me out even if I was buying more - that's if you didn't like me.”

“If I disliked you.”

“Still, I don't know if being liked is the most important thing.”

“I could agree, but people don't like being told they're wrong. That might be the first lesson in learning how to get people to like you.”

A small parade of compasses flowed down off the shelf, each one with a different symbol on it which indicating what the compass would help you find. Shaen directed them back to the shelf they had come from like a Tai-Chi master.

“I think people like magic, not real magic, people love real magic, but they really, really like magic. Like the one from our world my world, you know? Where they can tell there's a story they're being told one that's too good to believe.” I said.

“People do like things that are seemingly too good to believe.”

“You said people don't like to be told they're wrong, you're right, but they do love it when you let them figure it out on their own. Or when you set their expectations up only to have them betrayed. When you pull a salmon out of a hat, then another, then follow it up with a final rabbit. I've seen you do it. I know I can do it too.”

“I don't perform magic tricks here” he said with a smirk.

“Every sale you make is a magic trick shade. I've seen people come into the store thinking that a magic mirror will answer all their questions about the world and leave with a barely magical pen that would let them answer questions about themselves. If that isn't a rabbit from a hat, I don't know what is, especially if the pen needs refills unavailable anywhere else.”

While we spoke a jewelry set, an alarm clock and power-bank each sporting their own magical enchantments had found their way to the space around and between us.

 “Just because you know a magician's playing a trick don’t mean you can perform his tricks.” Shaen said as he escorted the Jewelry set and alarm clock back to their displays.

“I suppose not.” I replied as I guided the power bank to the electronics section. “But I like to think I might be able to come up with a few magic tricks of my own.”

“Is that so?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

We were interrupted again by a loud proclamation “Doctors are mad, scientists are baffled! The scribes’ wrist ache in the bards can't stop singing.”

“I’ll wait.” I said.

“No need, I’m curious to see what kind of magic show you’ll put on.” replied Shaen.