by Jean Rabe
“It’s only a gold piece a jar—a small price to pay for beauty,” Carmen gushed. “The more wrinkles you have, the longer it will take for them to go away. But in most cases, if you apply the cream tonight, by morning your skin will be as soft and wrinkle-free as a baby’s bottom.”
“I’ll take a jar!”
Fenzig slipped back through the crowd. If I had any money I’d spend it on a hot bath so I could get this stinky stuff off me, he thought. Who knows where I lost those three silver pieces and that crystal salt shaker? Probably left them for the craven cats in the Haunted Woods. He settled for splashing in the nearby fountain and scrubbing furiously. Afterward, he dried his face and hands on the cape of a tall man caught up in Carmen’s sales pitch.
“I have an abundance of ointments for all kinds of ailments,” Carmen proclaimed. “And as a thank you for your patronage, I will perform a magic show for you in just a few hours. Right after dinner, and right before dusk. But first, let me show you some more of my unique and fabulous unguents and balms.”
“Do you have anything for rashes?” Fenzig heard the tall man say.
“Of course I do!” Carmen replied. “Step right up, sir, I’ll be glad to demonstrate.”
The gnome ran from the courtyard before he could be singled out to “demonstrate” anything else. He found a nearby alley and clung to the shadows. Selecting a crate that was relatively clean, the gnome sat on it and watched the audience grow and Carmen’s supply of miracle cures dwindle. He rested for a time, and headed toward the duke’s estate just as the peddler started his magic act.
8
A Gem of a Plan
“We’re a lot alike, Carmen and I,” Fenzig muttered. “He steals from people, too. He’s just more upfront about it than I am. He takes their gold in exchange for worthless concoctions that smell bad. I, on the other hand, just take their gold. I don’t suppose either approach is very honorable. But at least I’m not cheating anyone to their face. And I’m not lying to them.”
But I’m not being fair to them either. All right, stealing might be wrong, he admitted to himself, and maybe King Erlgrane had a right to punish me. But to punish me by making me commit another crime? That’s not right either. Two wrongs never ever made the proverbial right in anyone’s life. If I get through all of this in one piece, I think I’ll have a long talk with my father. Maybe he needs some help with his woodcarving business. I could give it a try anyway. Again. It might not be so bad this time. Maybe I’ll even go back to school.
At the moment, however, the gnome knew he didn’t have any choice but to steal from Duke Rehmir—not if he wanted to live. And it was only three emeralds, he kept telling himself. Just three gems. Someone as rich as the duke might not miss them.
No. He won’t miss them at all.
It was not yet so dark that Fenzig couldn’t see the line on his arm, so he risked a glance. The end of it was just at his elbow, meaning tomorrow it would start toward his shoulder. The line is moving faster than the wizard estimated it would, Fenzig thought. Too fast. But perhaps the wizard’s estimate was based on a human, who would naturally have longer limbs. Seven more days at best, the gnome judged, seven more days that he had to live. Six at the minimum, eight and a half at the outside. And he knew it would take at least three days to get back to King Erlgrane’s, probably four.
“I’m still doing all right,” he whispered, attempting to bolster his sagging spirits. “I’m on schedule, but not as much ahead as I hoped I’d be.” His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since the breakfast Carmen had made for him. “I’ll take care of you later,” he said, giving it a soft swat.
The gnome reached the edge of the duke’s estate by sunset. On his way out of town he’d “appropriated” a leather sack and a belt that had a couple of pouches attached to it—things he’d need for hauling away other things, namely things that glittered and sparkled. He vowed to take enough wealth with him to buy a means of transportation to Burlengren. If not, he’d have to steal a pony from the nearby village, though he didn’t like to perform back-to-back thefts. He considered it tempting fate.
He followed the route he’d visualized earlier in the day, moving quickly over the relatively flat landscape and using the trees and bushes for cover. He hovered amid the evergreens in the garden outside the stone wall until dusk overtook the land. Then he slid quietly from shadow to deepening shadow and scaled the wall.
As he squeezed between the spikes on top and looked toward the manor house, he swallowed hard. The duke’s home was much larger than he’d thought, and searching for a study that displayed three emeralds could take longer than he’d originally anticipated. Although the land surrounding the garden and outer wall was flat, the grounds that lay beyond the wall and that directly surrounded the manor were in a bowl-like depression. It effectively hid much of the place from view—until one was directly upon it. The bulk of the manor house was actually eight stories tall, not five as the gnome had guessed earlier. And it was more spread out than he’d first thought.
Fenzig whistled softly. This is a palace, not a manor house. And it’s huge, bigger than King Erlgrane’s castle even—maybe one hundred and fifty rooms, give or take a dozen. It’s a good thing this is in another country and not under the king’s jurisdiction, the gnome said to himself. If it were on the king’s lands, he’d claim it. The property is very defensible, perfect for a monarch. The duke would be homeless, and the king would be moving in his furniture tomorrow. Searching this place is going to take a while.
He dashed toward the building. There wasn’t much cover in the depression, just a few ornamental shrubs. Good thing I’m a gnome, Fenzig mused as he nimbly leapt over a patch of mud. If I were any taller those sentries on the parapets would spot me. Of course, if I weren’t a gnome, I wouldn’t have fit through the window in King Erlgrane’s tower, and I wouldn’t be in this mess.
Within moments he was at the base of the immense palace. Selecting a wall practically covered by ivy, he started his climb. The thick vines smelled strongly of musk. Their scent was almost overpowering, but they did make climbing easier. The odor clung to his nostrils and reminded him of Carmen’s delicious tea. He yawned, and his eyelids felt heavy. The tips of his fingers were becoming numb.
Concentrate, you idiot, he scolded himself. These vines are probably supposed to discourage thieves and put them to sleep before they can get inside. But they can’t discourage me. I’m not going to fall for it. Fenzig bit his lower lip. The pain helped him to focus his attention on climbing. The white stones of the manor felt cool against the palms of his hands, and his fingers fit perfectly in the cracks between the stones. Higher, higher, that’s it, he coaxed. I’m just about to the second floor. Let’s try for the third.
He stifled a yawn, closed his eyes, felt his fingers relax, and he bit down harder on his lip. A warm trickle of blood ran down his chin, and his eyes snapped open. No wonder there aren’t many sentries, he thought. If you get too close to the building, you’ll take a nap. All the sentries have to do is come by and scoop you up. Come on, that’s it. I’m almost there.
The gnome passed by a second-story window, and though he was groggy and yawning and having visions about a soft feather bed, he made it to the third floor. He sat on the outside window ledge for a moment and shook his head in an attempt to clear his senses. This vantage point put him almost even with the base of the wall that circled the manor. Satisfied he would remain awake and alert, he rubbed his sleeve across his mouth to wipe away the blood, then set to work on the window. It was latched from the inside, but to a thief of Fenzig’s skill it presented little challenge. He eased the frame back and forth and up and down just a fraction of an inch. Still, it was enough to jimmy the latch. He slid open the window and entered the hallway beyond. His scabbarded sword thunked up against the sill, and he flinched.
No one hear me, he pleaded silently. Please, no one hear me. I promise I’ll try to go straight if no one notices me. My father can teach me the
woodworking trade. I’ll make window frames, not break into them. No one hear me.
It seemed no one had, as no one came out to investigate. Satisfied that everything was proceeding smoothly, Fenzig looked into the first doorway. “Wow,” he whispered. “Too bad everything’s glass, or I’d take a couple of pieces with me.” The room contained an exquisite collection: clear, blue, and green vases, cups, goblets, and bowls. A chandelier in the center of the room caused light to dance off every piece, dazzling the gnome and causing him to stand transfixed for several moments.
“Next room,” Fenzig murmured, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from the colors. He crept like a cat a few more feet and narrowly avoided a glowing spot low on the wall. Hmm. A magical alarm, he guessed. Well, you didn’t catch me. I’m too clever. No one is going to catch Fenzig the Dashing, Fenzig the Fabulous, Thief Extraordinaire. Ha! There, I gave myself a title Carmen would approve of. This is the real reason I chose this profession, he inwardly crowed. Overcoming obstacles, bypassing locks and tricks and traps, avoiding guards. The challenge. The thrill. The . . . Uh-oh.
Fenzig ducked and hid in the shadows inside a door frame. He watched as a half-dozen men in uniform exited a room a few yards away, turned in unison, and retreated down the hall.
Sentries, the gnome surmised, though these are dressed a little better than the ones on the grounds and on the roof. Maybe these guys are better, or maybe different clothes mean they’re from different units. Doesn’t matter, I can avoid all of them.
When they were out of sight, he stepped from the shadows and stretched. His head was still a little foggy from the odd ivy, but his senses were growing sharper. The air in here smelled better, too. It smelled of cedar, which was what the doors and floor were made off. The boards were well polished and glowed faintly in the light from a sconce halfway down the hall. As he padded forward, he heard regular and multiple footsteps above him.
Probably the guard force prowling upstairs now, the gnome inferred. Guess you can’t be too careful when you’re a duke and have lots of valuables to protect. Too bad your sentries aren’t sharp enough, though, Duke Rehmir, and too bad your ivy isn’t potent enough. Too bad for you. Too good for me.
His confidence growing, and all thoughts of woodworking with his father evaporating, he smiled slyly and glided several more steps, looking in rooms to his right and left where the doors were open. He’d look behind the closed doors later, he decided. No use opening them now and risking squeaking hinges and clicking latches. He’d eliminate the open rooms first.
The next three rooms he passed contained little furniture: a few chairs, a couch, low tables filled with knickknacks that didn’t look particularly valuable. The next room was a library, poised just at the edge of a staircase that twisted up into more shadows and curled downward to the level below. Fenzig paused to look at the shelves that covered every wall and stretched to the ceiling. The room smelled like leather from all the dyed bindings on the tomes and the upholstery on the chairs. For a moment the gnome regretted not knowing how to read.
There must be something to the skill, he sadly mused as he moved toward the steps. Maybe if someday they write everything in magical ink, like Carmen’s paint . . .
Heavy footsteps ascending interrupted his thoughts, and he slid into the library. The footsteps came closer and were unevenly paced, indicating these probably weren’t guards. Fenzig scooted into the niche under a desk just in time to see an old gentleman in a uniform similar to those worn by the sentries—though more ostentatious—and a portly middle-aged man in a robe and sleeping gown enter the room. The gnome nervously fidgeted with his fingernails as he hoped neither one of them would come close enough to see him. He breathed a sigh of relief when they stayed near the doorway, each selecting a well-padded chair. From the gnome’s vantage point, he could see only the older man, but he could hear both clearly.
“I just don’t know, Ketterhagen.” It was the portly man speaking. Fenzig saw that the older man offered a sympathetic smile. “King Erlgrane is marshaling his forces. I suspect he’s going to try a raid on my manor—as if he hasn’t done enough to me already. Why this blasted land is so important to him is beyond me.”
“He’s obsessed with it. Perhaps he’s gone mad because of it, sir,” the aged sentry replied. “Your army is large, and under my command Erlgrane cannot defeat it—not in a fair, straight-up fight. You have more property than he does, and it is in a better location. So defensible. And valuable. From here, he could strike out against the Northern Kingdoms if he’s a mind to. He’s already acquired land to the south, all the way to the sea. But you mustn’t give in to him, no matter what. My forces are at their finest. King Erlgrane knows he doesn’t have the men to overrun your estate. That’s why he’s tried so many different strategies on and off through the past few years. I suspect he’s just marshaling his men to worry you, sir.”
“It’s working, my old friend. I am worried. I’ve refused his every offer for him to come to my estate and discuss matters. I don’t want him here. I don’t trust him. I’m a stubborn man, I’ll admit, my dear General. This land has been in my family for centuries. And since King Erlgrane refuses to undo the terrible thing he has wrought, why should I even consider dealing with him?”
“Indeed, sir!”
The gnome stopped fidgeting and listened more closely. The portly man must be Duke Rehmir. If he could follow the pair out of here, perhaps he might follow them right to the study. Please let them go to the study. It’s a better place to chat than a library, he thought.
“He’s already taken practically everything I value. Why should I give him this?”
“That’s the spirit, sir!”
He doesn’t have your emeralds, Fenzig thought. Not yet, anyway. But I’ll be taking them to him shortly, thank you very much sir. Besides, you have plenty of expensive vases. Just one of those vases is worth enough to feed all the gnomes in my town for a month.
“But that spirit won’t mend my heart,” the duke added sadly. “The king has sundered that. Perhaps I could fall on his mercy and beg once more that he make things right.”
“I doubt begging would work, sir. It didn’t years ago.”
You’re a smart man, General Ketterhagen, the gnome mused. Erlgrane’s not the pitying kind. He’d rather show people the inside of his dungeon than grant them any mercy. And I’ll wager neither you nor the duke would like the dungeon after living here.
“Well, no use worrying about politics tonight,” the duke concluded. “I think I’ll retire for the evening—after a smoke in the study.”
The study! That’s it! Fenzig’s mind screamed. Yes! Yes! Yes! I am such a lucky little thief. Let’s go to the study!
“See you in the morning, Ketterhagen.”
“Good night, sir.”
Fenzig heard the heavy footsteps leave the room, and he was about to dart out from under the desk when he noticed the old general was still sitting in the chair. Leave! the gnome mentally urged him. Get out of here so I can follow the duke! It will save me lots of time. Leave! Leave! Leave! It will . . .
The old general closed his eyes and tapped his foot. “Oh, bother,” he grumbled. “I do wish there were something I could do to make the duke happy. It’s been five years now since King Erlgrane—”
“Sir!” A new voice intruded on the scene.
Fenzig scowled and tried to relax. It looks as if I’m going to be here for a while, he thought glumly. I could care less what the king did to the duke or what the duke did to the king. It couldn’t have been any worse than what Erlgrane had his wizard do to me. And I don’t care who ends up with this estate. I just want those emeralds!
“Sir?”
“Yes, Sergeant Rogan. I’m in here.”
“General Ketterhagen, we discovered footprints in the outer yards in a patch of mud. The prints were pointed toward the house. We think there is an intruder on the grounds. Small, like that of a child or a woman.”
Try a gnome, Fenzig scowled.
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“Perhaps a thief.”
You’re right there.
“We’ve considered that, General Ketterhagen, sir.”
“Well, snap to it then! Find your intruder. It will give you something to do this night. Probably just one of the children from town, out here on a dare. That’s what it was the last time. But just in case it is a thief. . . .”
Rats! Fenzig cursed. I thought I was being careful to avoid any patches of dirt where I might leave footprints. I must have missed a step. Better hurry. Now, Ketterhagen, move! I’ve got to get to the study, and then I’ve got to get out of here.
“In fact, I’ll go outside with you, sergeant. A walk would do these old bones some good.”
“Very well, sir.”
Yes, very well indeed, thank you, the gnome added. Leave! Leave! He waited almost a full minute after the old man had exited the room, then he padded toward the stairway. Up or down? Second floor or fourth, he wondered. Up or down? Which way did the duke go? His eyes narrowed when he spotted depressed nap on the stairway leading up. His fingers ruffled the carpet. Someone’s walked this way recently. I’ll try up.
The stairs were steep for someone Fenzig’s size, and because the ceilings were so tall it was a long way to the next floor. By the time he reached the fourth-floor landing he was huffing and clutching his side. Climbing a wall is easier than this, he scowled. Now to smell for tobacco.
He spent the next several minutes silently racing from doorway to doorway, sniffing for the scent of a pipe or cigar. That floor finished, he climbed another flight of stairs as fast as his short legs would take him, cursing the duke for breaking with tradition and putting his study on the fifth floor or higher. He rounded the corner of the landing and almost slid into the duke, who was leaving a room, smoldering pipe in one hand and pouch of tobacco in the other.
The gnome’s heart thundered in his chest, and he dropped to the floor and rolled to the side. Still prone, he reached for his magical short sword and was about to pull it from the scabbard, but instead watched in amazement as the duke walked right past him and started down the stairs.