* Herding a Triop

*

Biting at my fingers, I waited anxiously in Phyllis’ shoppe for the triop to show up. The sun had already set, meaning the usual flow of people had dwindled to the odd Lich House student coming and going. At the far end of the room, I watched a leather-clad Vathos gently feather-dusting suits of armour as, without warning, the duster flew from his hand and began to slap at his face.

He turned to look at me, pouting as he squinted through the dusty abuse. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, even though there was nothing I could do in that moment to assist him. If I joined in, I would be subjected to the assault, and there was no magic I knew to halt the object.

"Don't look at me, my guy," I replied with a lacklustre expression. "Magic really isn't my thing. Have you tried offering it dustier armour?"

"Lubricate!" Phyllis's voice echoed from the walls.

Just as fast as the duster had turned on Vathos, it transformed into a giant squeeze bottle, coating the unimpressed devilkin in a slippery spray. Throwing his arms and legs out wide in an attempt to steady himself, he had no such luck before tumbling to the ground.

"Ow." He sighed.

"Mwahahaha!" The lich bellowed. "Never gets old! Now clean up that mess, Vathos. Then take a bath, you're all slimy. And you better use the one with the cameras this time, or so help me! I need some fresh material for my Lonely Fans!"

"Phyllis," I groaned. "Leave Vathos alone. You shouldn't treat your employees that way."

“Shut up! Wait, what are you doing here? Are you still waiting for your employees?” Phyllis said as she emerged from one of the nearby barrels.

Floating on her cane-rifle towards the cash wrap that I moped behind, she eyed me curiously. 

“Always tough when they’re late for the first day of work. That’s why I always keep the lubricant spell handy. Makes everything slippery and hard to handle. Serves them right.”

“Yes, I know all about your addiction to watching people fumble slippery objects,” I mumbled, watching Vathos struggling to stand.

After observing him tumble to the ground several times, I felt bad that it also brought me joy. Clearing my throat and adjusting my gaze towards the saloon doors, I continued to only partially listen to Phyllis as she rambled on about what she could and couldn't do with employees.

“And they’re not employees," I responded, thinking of the triop I waited for. "They’re my adventuring party...potentially.”

“Tomato, potato—or whatever. Just remember, you need to give them a short leash. Teach them who’s the boss. And ultimately that’s me, Phyllis.”

“Yes, yes. Now will you go away before they show up?”

“Remember, they’re never going to be colleagues; they don’t have an equal share. They’re employees, that’s why I recommended hiring some scumbags who—”

Just at that moment, the doors to the shoppe flung open as the triop arrived with a surprising collection of smiles plastering their faces. My heart fluttered upon seeing them, especially the beautiful expression that hung on Rionriv's lips. I had never imagined she had it in her to smile, but seeing it firsthand, her radiant glow of happiness, drove me wild. She came through the door, mid-laugh about something, and the joy that hung in her cheeks mesmerized me. My heart thudded against my chest, threatening to give out under the strain.

But she wasn't the only one who was happy. Nor was she the only one who was causing the blood to pump through my veins at the speed of sound. 

All three appeared to be relieved, and with the weight lifted from their shoulders, the tension I had felt when I met them was gone. It was as though a whole new trio of girls had walked through the shoppe doors. They were beautiful. Their smiles were radiant. Their joy was intoxicating. Just seeing them made my world a little brighter.

Phyllis noticed this too.

“Them?!” Phyllis bellowed, releasing an agitated grumble.

Pulling out a wand, she flicked spit wads the size of gumballs at my face. They struck me with wet smacks, ripping me from my passionate daydreaming.

“I said scumbags," She continued to scold. "Scum-bags! Not cum—erm—harems.”

Floating a few feet away from me, her face crumpled into a disappointed pout as she crossed her arms.

“Well, they’re employees, remember that! You can’t sleep with them. No sexing, you hear me?!”

“What?" I felt my face go red, the thought having crossed my mind plenty of times already. "I would never!”

“Don’t play coy, dongle-diddler. I know you want to dip your toe in that Beltane bounty with a triop that looks like a poster promoting magical diversity. But it violates Employee-Employer Clause Sixty-Nine-Dash-Oh. And if you so happen to slip a single finger below their pleasure horizon, it becomes a breach of contract!”

My heart began to race. I never remembered writing that clause into any of the stories. Typically, Phyllis had been very open to a little bit of pocket pool, late-night snacking, and limbering up before a quest. At least, in my stories, she had been.

Oh shit! No. No. No. Wait, does that mean—

“And what does that mean, exactly?” I asked, gulping down the knot that had formed in my throat. “Asking for a friend, of course.”

With a flick of her skeletal wrists, a comedically long scroll unfurled a list of potential punishments for a sexual breach of contract. And as quickly as it appeared, Phyllis snapped her fingers, and it was gone again.

"Wait, you took it away too fast. But did one of those say castration by crocodile?"

“I love alliteration—just don’t do it!” She quickly turned towards the approaching triop, putting on a professional smile. “Oh, hello, children. How can I help you today?”

“We’re just here for him,” Rionriv smirked as she nodded my direction. “We’ve got to talk.”

“And sell some things.” Aesandoral butted in, dropping the loot from the adventure on the table.

“Oh, very nice,” Phyllis mumbled pleasantly as she began her appraisal of the items. “I can give you four hundred and ninety-five gold for the lot. A special rate since the loot was gained while on a mission for Ishara. One of the many benefits you could expect working for him.”

“You get special pull with Phyllis?” Rionriv cast me a suspicious glance.

“Yeah, you can say we go way back.”

“Yes! He’s my special little man. I’ve been with him since he was small, watched him grow up and ruin the sleeve of his favourite sweatshirt in a thrilling climax to his first—”

My heart stopped at the embarrassing retelling of Tahvin's coming-of-age moment.

“Ohhh-kayyy, Phyllis, thank you,” I shouted, silencing her.

Jumping over the counter, I snatched the bag of coins from the lich and motioned to the girls.

“Hey, follow me now that you’ve been paid.” Dangling the coin purse, I pointed deeper into the store. "My room is this way."

"Wait, you live in Phyllis' shop?" Rionriv now followed up on her first question as her glare grew more suspicious.

"Yes, Rionriv. Yes. Phyllis and I go way back! Can we save the game of twenty questions for when we're off the main floor, please?"

"Twenty-questions?" Aesandoral asked.

"That's a question." Sharzin interrupted.

Rushing everyone away from Phyllis, I pushed and pulled them through the shop towards the cursed clothing rack that led to my studio apartment. After ensuring no one was nearby, I reached behind one particularly ominous-looking piece of heavy equipment and slipped my hand into the mouth of the wooden gargoyle relief. Grabbing the uvula within, a dull click resonated from behind the wall as the door unlocked before I tugged the barrier open.

With a shove, I forced the triop through and directed them up the stairs before slamming the door behind us. Finally, having escaped the devious lich, I sighed as I locked the entrance. Taking a moment, I remained at the entrance, trying to calm my racing heart. I grabbed my chest as I pulled in deep breaths before releasing them slowly. A mixture of anxiety and excitement had taken hold of me as the thought of three beautiful women sharing my small apartment sent my mind to the wrong places. And, while I wanted nothing more than to explain what a camcorder was and why we should have one facing the bed tonight, all I could think about was Phyllis’ words.

No fugging? Seriously? I thought with a disappointed sigh. This is just great—Contractual Celibacy. I'm a concel now. Not like I could do anything anyway.

My mind drifted to the thoughts of earlier and reaching for Aesandoral's hand. The near-panic attack that followed had only been avoided because of the strength of the mental dam the very Lich telling me not to have sex had erected at my request. And if the feeling I received from trying to hold hands was any indication, I could only imagine what nightmares rested behind the twenty-toe tango curtain.

Resting there long enough to calm my heart, I listened to the upbeat nineties alternative rock and power pop coming from upstairs before voices began to discuss.

“Ooh, what’s that thing?” I heard Aesandoral ask before the sound of disk cases tumbling filled the air. “Oh no, whoops, oh gods.”

“Oh no, not my favourite AI-generated bootlegged movies!”

Ascending the stairs, I saw Aesandoral doubled over on the ground, grabbing at rectangular red cases. Behind her, Rionriv knelt on the bed, looking through the glass at the neon lights of the underground noir city I loved to observe. And, as for Sharzin, she was missing. A concerning turn of events, considering it was a studio apartment.

“Hey, it’s okay, Aesandoral, don’t worry about it,” I said with a forced smile as I rushed up to her. “I’ve got something from Phyllis for just this occasion.”

Grabbing a nearby wand that I kept on the bookshelf, I flicked the Phyll-o-Buster and watched as the movies began to float back into the rack. As they moved, a wave of cleanliness washed over the space, dusting furniture, tightening the bed sheets and arranging the displaced movies alphabetically. At the edges of the room, windows were cleaned of Rionriv’s fingerprints, and even the pile of dirty towels I had forgotten in the corner were cleaned of stains, folded, and put away.

That was when Sharzin appeared from beneath the pile.

“Hey, what are you doing under there? Please don’t hide in my dirty laundry.”

“Sorry, I was—” Sharzin started, but was immediately interrupted.

“Many years ago, our ancient forebearers had before them a difficult decision—” The wand began to speak.

“Damn it, not another one!” I grumbled, looking at the object in my hand.

The wands were great at cleaning up rooms, clothing, people, and pretty much everything. They did have one downside, though. As was the way with all Phyllis products: there was a shelf life. After a random amount of usage, the items inevitably broke down in some way.

“Planned obsolescence isn’t the crime, here. It's these savings!” I could hear her distant voice crying in the store, directly addressing me.

The problem with the Phyll-o-Buster was that, though it helped clean the house, it became corrupted and instead wasted time talking about anything and everything Esserian politics. I’d gone through three already and found the best thing to do was toss it into the extra-dimensional bin.

So, walking over to the trash can, I threw the wand into the one-way portal to the Cosmic Sea, where there were now four of these magic items vying for an ear to listen to their absurdities.

“Damn, going to need to buy another. Or I guess I could just learn the spell. Nah, I’m not going to do that. Anyways, sorry Sharzin, I interrupted—Sharzin?”

And she's gone. I mean, of course she is, that's her shtick after all.

“How does this work?” Rionriv demanded as she discovered the knob that switched the world image beyond my window.

“Like that, you’re doing great. Maybe find a setting you would like as a backdrop to our talk.”

“Ishara, what is this?” Aesandoral asked from her seat at the head of my bed. She was looking at my nightstand, including the bottle of lotion and box of tissues.

Crap! I felt my face burn with embarrassment as I jumped forward and slapped the devious evidence to the Cosmic Sea. I know I put that away. Damn it! Phyllis!

“That, oh, nothing. I get dry and…cry a lot. Uhhh—”

Well, crap, that’s not much better.