by Jean Rabe
The man is muttering to himself, Fenzig thought. No, he’s not muttering, he’s sobbing. And whatever he’s upset about has made him pretty well oblivious to his surroundings. Lucky for me. Fighting the duke wasn’t part of my bargain with King Erlgrane, thank you. The gnome took a deep breath, steadied his frazzled nerves, and waited until the top of the duke’s head bobbed out of sight.
Two more deep breaths and Fenzig darted to the door the duke had closed behind him. Locked! Well, of course he’d lock it if he keeps emeralds on the mantel.
The gnome eyed the keyhole and jiggled the knob. I’ve nothing to pick it with, he cursed to himself. Wait! Fenzig grinned and unclasped the belt that held his sword scabbard. Using the prong, he worked the lock open and stepped inside. I am so very, very clever! The room was lit by a thick candle on a table; its flame provided just enough light so Fenzig could make out the place’s most impressive features. The room smelled strongly of sweet pipe smoke, the scent having nowhere to go with the only window closed. The lingering traces of smoke tickled the gnome’s senses. Fenzig enjoyed a good pipe now and then, as did most gnomes.
Later, he told himself. After I’m done here. This place looks more like a museum than a study, a look-but-don’t-touch kind of place.
Two suits of polished, ornamental plate mail flanked a fireplace that hadn’t been used in months. A long sword rested in the right glove of one, and a gleaming halberd in the left glove of the other.
Definitely museum pieces, the gnome noted. The suits have to be a hundred years old or more, judging by their designs and faceplates. And I’ll bet they’re worth a lot. Too heavy to carry out with me, though. Good thing King Erlgrane didn’t want those.
Richly colored shields and pennants from various countries were draped on the walls, and across from the gnome hung a massive tapestry embroidered with unicorns and other mythical beasts and shot through with gold and silver thread. He guessed the tapestry was worth a small fortune. There was only one chair, a high-backed, overstuffed one that was worn on the arms and the seat. A favorite, comfortable chair, Fenzig thought. It faces the fireplace where you can warm your feet and admire the . . . emeralds.
The gnome padded all the way into the room, closing and locking the door behind him so anyone outside would not realize there was something amiss. Standing in front of the fireplace, he looked up. Set in a crystal case with a black velvet lining, the gems were tilted so that the person sitting in the chair could admire them. Each was as big as Fenzig’s fist and gleamed warmly in the room’s meager light. The gnome knew quite a bit about gems, and he didn’t need a jeweler’s lens to tell him these were cut perfectly.
My gods! the gnome thought to himself. They’re worth more than I could imagine. If I had but one of those I could buy my own castle and furnish it well. I wonder what they’d look like under a brighter light. Light? The duke didn’t snuff out the candle. That means he’s probably coming back, and that means I’d better get out of here fast.
The gnome stood on his tiptoes and reached for the gems, but they were just out of reach. Muttering under his breath, he turned and strode toward the chair, intending to tug it closer to the fireplace and use it to climb up on. His small hands were on the chair’s worn arms when he heard a clink behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that one of the suits of plate mail had lifted up its visor, revealing the weathered face of a man underneath.
“I’d say you’re not supposed to be here, wee-one. Wouldn’t you, Drollo?”
The other suit flipped up its faceplate, showing the visage of a darker-skinned man with tight black curls plastered across his forehead. “Oh, I can guarantee you he’s not supposed to be here.”
“Shall we have at him, then, Drollo my friend?” the first guard quipped. He raised his long sword in a mock salute to the gnome. “Never much cared for gnomes.”
“I could use a bit of sport,” the other replied. “I was getting tired of just standing here. This is the most boring guard duty in all of the duke’s holdings.”
They’re going to kill me! Fenzig’s mind screamed. He drew his short sword and cringed as the guards laughed. Their longer weapons could let them stand out of his reach while still fighting him.
“C-C-Couldn’t we talk this over?” Fenzig stammered. “I could leave.”
“You will leave, thief, in a box—dead,” the darker man said. With that, he stepped forward and swung the halberd. The weapon consisted of an axe-like blade at the end of a long metal pole and looked entirely too formidable to Fenzig.
The gnome fell flat to the floor and felt a rush of air as the blade swished above him. “I’m going to die,” he gushed.
“Yes, you are,” the other guard agreed as he raised his long sword and brought it down. “And I will not lose any sleep in killing you.”
Fenzig rolled to the side and heard a sickening thunk. Jumping to his feet he saw that the blade had sunk deep into the polished floor. The guard effortlessly pulled it free in a heartbeat and advanced on the trembling gnome. This time the sword sliced through the air on a course with Fenzig’s neck. The gnome ducked and watched in horror as a clump of his brown curls fell to the floor, neatly severed by the guard’s blade.
“Stand still and we’ll make this painless!” the guard with the halberd barked.
“Not a chance!” Fenzig spat back. In that instant the gnome remembered his ring. Concentrating, he felt his skin tingle, as if he’d just stepped out of a warm bath into chill air. Goosebumps raced up and down his arms and legs, then his arms—and his whole body—seemed to blink out of existence. He grinned with delight when he watched the guards glance about the room, looking for their quarry. Why didn’t I use this before? he wondered. I could have waltzed in without anybody spotting me. I guess I’m not used to having nifty magical maguffins at my disposal.
“Where’d he go?” The guard with the long sword, the one named Drollo, seemed furious. “He was right here!”
“You stand by the door to make sure he doesn’t leave. I’ll start searching.” The guard held his halberd cautiously out in front of him. “We’ll get him—even if there’s sorcery at work! I hate wizards!”
So do I. Fenzig ducked behind the leather chair and snickered.
“I heard him!”
The gnome gulped as the chair was shoved backward, knocking him on his rump. His short sword flew from his grasp and skittered across the floor, instantly becoming visible.
“Indeed it is sorcery! Start swinging at the air, you might connect with him!” Drollo barked. The guard took a step away from the door, bending to retrieve Fenzig’s blade. “Gnomes! Distrustful little people. I’ll bet they’re all thieves!”
I can’t be defenseless! the gnome scolded himself. I can’t let him get that weapon. Without another thought, Fenzig launched himself forward, his belly struck the polished floor, and he slid the few feet to his weapon. As he grasped the hilt it became invisible again, and he instinctively brought it up to parry the thrust of the long sword. As the two blades connected, a flash of bright green light filled the room. When the glow vanished, the stunned guard held a thoroughly rusted sword. Within a few heartbeats more, it fell to pieces.
“Amazing,” Fenzig whispered. “The king told me this was magical, but not what it did.”
“I hear him!” The guard with the halberd was persistent. Despite what had happened to his companion’s blade, he swung the poleaxe, and the gnome had to jump back to avoid being sliced through the middle. “He’s nearby! I can hear him breathing!”
As Fenzig dodged a second blow, his short sword accidentally touched the armor of his previous victim, who was moving up behind him. Another flash of light followed, and the man was howling in rage and standing there in a quilted outfit that had served as padding for the armor.
“Get back!” Fenzig sneered at the remaining armored guard. “Keep your distance, or I’ll rust your weapon and armor too! That’s it, back away some more.”
The guard paused for an instan
t, looking about for some sign of the invisible intruder, and in that quiet moment the gnome heard the pounding of feet coming up the stairs. More guards will be here any second, he thought. I’ve got to get those emeralds and get out of here.
He whirled on the guard holding the halberd and urged him toward the tapestry. The gnome kept his back to the fireplace so he could also see the unarmored guard to his left by the door. “Drop the weapon, or I’ll rust it and your friend!” Fenzig doubted the blade would rust people, as it hadn’t rusted any of the craven cats. But he made the threat sound forceful, and the guard complied. “Now, if you two want to live, walk over to the mantel and take down the emeralds.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The voice was sultry and feminine and came from behind him. “I’m taking them.”
Fenzig glanced over his shoulder, and his mouth fell open in surprise. A lithe woman clad in a tight black tunic and leggings was already absconding with the emeralds and their glass case. Her short-cropped hair was as dark as midnight, and her brilliant blue eyes flashed mischievously, seeming to lock onto the gnome’s gaze—even though he was still invisible. She had black powder or soot smeared on her face and hands. About the only thing that wasn’t black was a gold and coral necklace that she’d likely lifted from another room in the duke’s manor.
Something’s familiar about her, Fenzig thought. The way she moves . . . so catlike. An expert thief.
She backed toward the window, which Fenzig noticed was now open. “Those emeralds are mine!” the gnome howled. “Mine! You’ve got no right to them!” His bare feet slammed on the wood, closing the distance between himself and the competing thief.
He was nearly on her when the door to the study burst open, and a half-dozen sentries poured in. To complicate matters, the guard with the halberd was leaping at the gnome. Though Fenzig could not be seen, his footsteps could be heard, and the guard’s flailing arms managed to strike the side of the gnome’s head.
The impact sent Fenzig down. The other thief dashed out through the window. And the armorless guard finally bellowed, “Intruder! Summon the duke!”
Fenzig scrambled to his feet. At the same time, the guard who’d struck him flailed about again and grabbed a handful of shirt. The gnome brought the short sword around, touching it to the guard’s armor, and in a flash the surprised man was left in padded clothes.
The gnome heard the gasps and curses of the six sentries, and he uttered a few curses of his own as the persistent, near-naked guard refused to let go of his shirt. Not wanting to hurt the man, but desperate to be after the other thief, Fenzig balled his free hand and smacked it backward, connecting with the guard’s face.
The man yelped in pain and relaxed his grip, just enough for the gnome to tug free. Again he darted toward the window. But this time his path was blocked by the first guard—who slammed down the pane and latching it. “You’re not getting out of here, ghost!” he barked. “Whatever foul manner of creature or wizard you are, you’ll not get away from us.”
“What’s going on here?” The portly duke stomped into the room, which was in a bit of disarray because of the struggle. “My jewels! Someone will die for this, I swear it! Where are the emeralds?”
Several guards started talking at once, and words such as “thief,” “sorcerer,” and “ghost” were spoken the loudest. Fenzig tried to use the confusion to slip away.
As the duke strode forward into the room, with more guards behind him, the gnome padded softly toward the door. The window was blocked off, so he’d have to leave by a different exit to pursue the female thief. He sheathed his sword and slid past the angry duke.
“I can’t believe you let someone steal my jewels!” the duke’s voice boomed. “Some guards you are! Bumbling idiots!”
I might feel sorry for you, sir, Fenzig thought as he neared the door frame. But right now I’ve myself to think about. If I don’t get those emeralds, I’ll be . . . “What?”
Just as the gnome’s right foot stretched out into the hallway, blackness enveloped him. It was a smothering darkness, heavy and thick and all-enveloping. A rug? No, it’s the unicorn tapestry, Fenzig’s mind wailed. The gnome realized the guards had tossed it, hoping it would connect with something unseen—which it had. Several pairs of hands fumbled about the tapestry, closing it in even more tightly around the frightened thief.
“I’ve got him, sir,” the gnome heard one guard proclaim.
“He’s a little fellow!” another shouted. “A child!”
“He feels awfully solid for a ghost!”
“Be careful! He’s got a weapon that rusts metal.”
The gnome felt himself being lifted. He struggled to reach the scabbard where the sword rested. If I can just get to it, he huffed, I can cut myself free, rust the rest of the sentries’ weapons, and get out of here. If I can just. . . .
The guards were holding him so tightly he was having difficulty breathing, so tightly he couldn’t maneuver his arm down to his waist where the weapon was tied. When he struggled to find an opening so he could get more air, someone struck him on the back of the head. His senses reeled, and blackness claimed him.
9
Another Proposition
“I’ve got him, sir! He’s not going anywhere.” The voice belonged to the guard named Drollo. “Shall I cut off his head, sir? I’m sure we can figure out where it is. We beheaded the last thief!”
As Fenzig regained his senses, he tried to shout “No!” But they were holding him so tightly that the only thing escaping his lips and coming through the folds of the tapestry was a muffled gurgling sound.
Leave my head alone, you incompetent excuses for fighting men! he fumed. If you were real men you wouldn’t hit people over the head from behind. You’d fight them fairly. Of course, he added, I wasn’t exactly being fair with the invisibility ring, but then I wasn’t trying to fight anyone.
The gnome wriggled an arm upward and gingerly probed at a growing bump on the back of his head, cursing himself for getting caught. Vowing to regain his freedom, he struggled like a fly caught in a spiderweb. Eventually he figured out this tactic was futile and decided it would be better to conserve his strength for when the guards relaxed their grip on the tapestry, affording him a better opportunity to escape.
They’re certainly incompetent enough to present me an opportunity, he thought. And when they do I’ll grab my sword and rust the weapons and armor of all of them!
“Shall I run him through perhaps?” The guard holding the tapestry was bloodthirsty and persistent. “Maybe we should burn him—outside, of course. Or we could string him up from one of the big trees behind the palace. I suppose we could even draw and quarter him, though that’s not done much anymore.”
“Don’t kill him yet.” The gnome recognized the duke’s voice and breathed a sigh of relief at his commuted death sentence. “I want the jewels back first.”
Fenzig felt part of the tapestry being pulled away from him. His captors were in effect fashioning a bag out of the material and were gathering it about his neck. Only his aching head was freed, while the rest of his body sweltered amid the thick bunched-up material. He gasped for air and cursed as he felt someone tug on his hair and yank on his ears.
“Here, sir, here’s his face. If you feel about here and here, you can . . .”
“Oh, my eye!” Fenzig sputtered.
“He feels very small, as if he’s a child. Perhaps, sir . . .”
“Let go of my nose!”
“He certainly doesn’t sound like a child.” This came from the duke.
One of the sentries had a firm hold on the gnome’s ears and was holding his head in a viselike grip. The duke knelt until his face was even with Fenzig’s, and the gnome could smell the hint of sweet tobacco on the portly man’s breath.
“Scoundrel,” the duke began evenly, “you will return those emeralds to me now, or I will give the order for the beginning of your demise. My guards will make sure your death is slow and painful. You will have
hours, perhaps even days, to contemplate the folly of stealing from me before you finally expire.”
“I don’t have the emeralds,” Fenzig gulped. Before he could offer any further explanation, the guard holding his ears jostled him hard. “Hey, cut it out!”
“I’ll cut out your tongue!” the guard spat. “You . . . you . . . you’re a gnome?”
Fenzig watched the duke back away. “Yes. He is a gnome. A wee-one,” the duke said. “A fairly young one from the looks of him. He’s not a ghost or a sorcerer, despite what some of you claimed, though I’ll wager he was employing some type of magic to make himself unseen. But whatever would possess a gnome to steal from me? I’ve done nothing untoward concerning the wee-ones and their land. I treat the wee-ones employed in the kitchen most fairly and pay them well. I’ve done no ill to the gnomes.”
Fenzig saw that all eyes in the room were fixed on him. I’m not invisible anymore, he realized with dismay. Now they can see me. Everyone can see me. Even if I get away they’ll know who to look for. My description will be ingrained in the minds of every guard and bounty hunter in the land.
“Sir,” one of the guards cut in, “the gnome wasn’t working alone. He had an accomplice. While he kept us busy and rusted poor Roderick’s and Drollo’s weapons and armor, his accomplice crept in the window and made off with your gems. They had the caper rather well timed.”
“I was working alone!” Fenzig moaned. “I always work alone.”
“No use trying to defend your partner, thief,” another guard said. “She’ll not be free long. By the way, sir, his partner isn’t a gnome. She’s a human—and a nice looking young one at that.”
“She was working alone, too!” Fenzig continued. “It was a coincidence we were both trying to steal the emeralds at the same time. I never saw her before tonight. Honest!”