The shop hadn't been there the day before.
This was not nearly as unusual as most would assume, but the fact that the customer realized that fact was. Normally, such a shop would somehow have always been there even though it had never been there. But this time, the shop had not been there and it had never been there and people were aware of the fact, a matter that called for special measures.
Thus the somewhat surprising sight of a wizard with a badge.
Tunny Maplethorne was a graduate of the University, although not a high level one. He didn't have the power or knowledge of the average Faculty member, for example. In Roundworld terms, he would have a Baccalaureate degree- enough to do most common work that required a wizard, including if need be a decent fireball, but not the 'higher' sort of thing. Although he did have a curious talent for analysis of magical fields and residues, which was how he was Detective Sergeant Maplethorne of Pseudopolis Yard's Forensics Division.
And he knew damn well that this wasn't right.
As he entered the shop, the proprietor- who was the expected elderly sort, of uncertain ethnicity, but almost certainly human- almost- looked up with an expression of... well.
The expected expression in this sort of shop was a vague kind of avarice, not the tired resignation this individual held. Weary eyes fixed themselves on the Detective, and the old... man, Tunny assumed, although... said, "Whatever you're looking for, we ain't got it."
"I... wasn't looking for anything, sir. I was here to make inquiries about this establishment."
"Hunh. That's a new one," the old man said. "Well, if you do decide to get something, we ain't got it. What are you, anyway? You look like a wizard collided with some sort of soldier. And got stuck."
Tunny looked down at himself, and sighed. He had to admit, he did look somewhat schizophrenic. He wore the robes of a wizard, true, but they were surmounted by a breastplate, and his helmet was oddly broad-brimmed and pointy- quite literally styled after the normal wizards' hat. And his staff was technically listed on the books as a "Truncheon, special, extra long".
He looked a right prat, but it was the closest compromise that could be made with his dual role.
"Just here to ask a few questions, sir, if I may. This establishment seems to have... well, not to put too fine a point on it-"
"It wasn't here yesterday, it won't be here tomorrow, and of course people are going to notice that. It's meant to be noticed so we can fail to sell anything. It's what we're here for."
Tunny simply blinked.
"Oh, all right," the old man- he was fairly certain it was a man, now, because it had a sort of scruffy beard and certainly wasn't a dwarf- sighed. "Look, you're some sort of wizard thing, right?"
"I am. I'm also an officer of the Law, so-"
"So am I. Cosmic law, so to speak. Now, you know about shops that appear, and then disappear, and all that goes with that, right? Being a wizard?"
"Well, yes..."
"And what's the one thing every one of them has in common?"
"They always have a somewhat cantankerous proprietor," replied Tunny, somewhat testily.
The old man blinked, much alike to Tunny. "Okay. That, I'll give you. What's the other thing they have in common?"
"Suppose you tell me, sir?"
"They always have that one thing that you need. You might not know it, might never have known it, but you need it. And it's there in that shop that happens to be there so you can find it."
Tully nodded. "Well, now that you mention it... Haggleswaithe's Second Law of Narrativism in Respect to Retail Est-"
"Fancy names aren't the point, officer. Having the thing for the person is. Now, what's one of the fundamental laws of Universal Balance?"
"There's eighty-four of them."
"Ah. Well, the one I'm thinking of is 'For every thing that is a thing, there is a thing that is the true opposite of that thing'. I believe that the most common example is drunkeness and knurdishness."
"Yes, I'm famil- good Gods."
"And now you see."
"This store literally won't have anything I need."
"Or particularly want. Oh, there's all sorts of fascinating things on the shelves, but nothing you'll actually buy. Certainly nothing you'll need. It's why people notice it wasn't there- a few get up the courage to come in, hoping to find that thing they need for a grand adventure, and they will be disappointed. Because it ain't here. We don't sell it. We sell everything except what you need. Or even want. And people need to know it."
"Because... opposites."
"Exactly."
Tunny sighed. "Must be an unsatisfactory sort of job, sir."
"Oh, not really. I dislike customers. Take a great deal of pleasure in not being of service. I freely admit I'm something of a bastard that way."
"Ri-ght. Well, there's no law against this. That I'm aware of at any rate. Will you be-"
"Staying long? No, I'll be gone by tomorrow. Have a nice day, sir."
As Tunny left, he sighed deeply. Filling out the report on this one would be a bear and a half, for certain. And the pens at the office never were adequate for the job.
He would have picked one up, but the shop hadn't had any- dammit.