by Jean Rabe
I actually considered throwing this bag at those men, he realized with dismay. I thought the flour might startle the horses. Talk about throwing away your life. He cradled the gems in a fold of his shirt and carried them forward. As he sat on the wagon bench, he reverently ran his fingers over their sparkling facets. They were a handful, each about the size of his fist. In the sun they sparkled warmly and glistened like green fire. Fenzig admired their perfect beauty. No wonder King Erlgrane wants them so badly, he thought. I’ve never seen any gems as exquisite as these. They’ve got to be priceless, or very close to it. I’ll bet if I knew a wizard he’d get rid of this homing spell in exchange for one of these—maybe even for just a look at one of these.
The green was dark and bright and flawless and almost mesmerizing, and the gnome had a hard time tearing his eyes away from the gems. However, the desire to save himself finally rose to the surface, and he thrust the jewels in his belt pouches and pulled up his sleeve. He scowled. The blue line had reached his shoulder.
“It’s going much, much too fast. He said he’d never cast it on a gnome before.” I’ve got a few days left, he judged. Maybe a little more, but I doubt it. The line’s moving so terribly, terribly fast, probably because my arm’s so short. And I’m guessing it’ll take me almost a day and a half to make it back to the duke’s—and that’s provided I stop only briefly to give the horses a rest. Sure hated to leave that little brown pony behind. Hope the duke won’t be upset. No chance now of making it to King Erlgrane’s on time. Bet the duke did something to speed up the spell so I wouldn’t have a choice. He returned to the inside of the wagon and found Carmen’s stash of dried venison and a flask half full of water.
Satisfied he wouldn’t starve before the homing spell killed him, the gnome picked up the reins and turned the horses around so they headed south. But he kept them off the road, guiding them over the farmland and behind a windbreak of trees as they passed near the village they’d just left so precipitously. The gnome had no desire to be spotted and chased. When he was a couple of miles past the village, he urged the horses back onto the road and made them pick up the pace.
He munched on the venison, drained the waterskin, and finally had hope that he might yet get out of this alive.
You can’t have those emeralds. They’re not yours to take. The voice was inside Fenzig’s head.
“Huh? Who said that? Who said I can’t have the emeralds?”
I did. You’re reading my mind. You have my necklace around your scrawny neck, so you can read anyone’s mind. It was Carmen—rather Carmella—who was thinking to him. You don’t understand. I didn’t really steal the emeralds, and you certainly can’t steal them.
“You didn’t steal them? Then who—looking just like you—snuck into the duke’s place and lifted them off the mantel while I had to deal with the guards?”
Listen, you little idiot. You don’t understand, but I’m going to explain it to you.
“No, you’re not,” Fenzig replied as he removed the medallion and thrust it in his pocket. “I gagged you so I wouldn’t have to listen to you speak. And I’m not about to listen to you think. Now why don’t you get some rest? You and I are going back to the duke’s.”
The gnome heard an angry “Mmmmph!” as Carmella tried to talk through the gag. It was about that time that the wagon passed the two men tied to a tree.
“I caught the peddler for you!” Fenzig called to them. “I’ll send someone by to free you.” He knew better than to release the two angry customers who were sure to slow him down—or worse. “I don’t have time to help you right now. I’ve got a homing spell to beat.”
11
Return to the Duke
Fenzig drove the horses until well past midnight—until they were exhausted and he could barely keep his eyes open. The gnome’s captive was more awake than he was, and she had made some progress on her bonds. He grimaced and tied them again, adding more twine and knots that she didn’t have a prayer of undoing. Satisfied, he propped himself up on the wagon seat for a quick nap. He didn’t even bother unhitching the horses. They could graze, and they could rest, and that was all that mattered for the moment.
Though there were a multitude of stars, it was too dark to see where the line was on his arm, so he fretted about it and guessed that it might be near his shoulder and well on the way to his neck. He thought about death, wondered if the end would be painful, and hoped fervently that something lay beyond this existence. Otherwise, what was the point to all of this?
I don’t want it all to be over, he thought as he slipped off into a troubled slumber. I don’t want to die. There are so many things I want to do, so many places I want to see. There are so many things to discover.
He awoke shortly before dawn, still tired. After a quick look at his trussed-up captive, he hurried the horses toward K’Nosha. He made relatively good time getting back, though he elected to go around the town rather than through it to get to Duke Rehmir’s estate. He suspected there were still some angry townsfolk who wanted a piece of the peddler, and there was nothing he could do to disguise the wagon from them.
Well, maybe the duke will let them have the peddler—after he’s done with her, he thought happily. I’d certainly like some retribution for this wonderful rash that’s still giving me fits.
Shortly after noon Fenzig found himself roughly ushered into the duke’s study. His captive was unceremoniously carried there and deposited on the floor before the duke, who was sitting in his comfortable chair. The gnome noticed that the duke looked very tired and pale and probably hadn’t slept much.
“I was successful,” the gnome said proudly, pointing at Carmella and pulling the emeralds from his pouches.
The duke jumped to his feet, moving more quickly than Fenzig had suspected possible for one of his age and bulk. He grabbed the jewels from the gnome’s small hands and held them to his eyes.
“No mars, no flaws. Still perfect, unharmed,” Duke Rehmir whispered. He continued to stare at the emeralds for several minutes, letting their facets catch and hold the light streaming in from the window. Then he reluctantly tore his eyes away from them and carefully placed them on the mantel. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Fenzig replied. “Now about this homing spell, the line creeping up my arm? You said you’d take care of it, make it go away. How about taking care of it now?” The gnome unbuttoned his tunic and craned his neck around to look at his shoulder. The line extended past where he could see. The gnome continued to twist and turn, and soon realized that if he couldn’t see the end of the line, it had to be nearing his neck. He frantically felt about with his fingers, trying to find it that way. But his attempt was futile; the line was flush with his skin.
“The line is nearly to your neck,” the duke said softly, noticing the gnome’s gyrations. Then he turned to his guards and ordered them to release Carmella.
“Sir?” Fenzig pleaded. “The spell. You said . . .”
The duke seemed to ignore him.
“But, sir? You promised. You said . . .”
Duke Rehmir instead turned his attention on the girl thief. “Why did you do this to me? How could you? I thought there was a truce between us. I thought we were at peace.”
The gnome was curious as to what was transpiring between the two, who obviously knew each other, but he was more concerned about his own well-being. If something wasn’t done to negate the spell quickly, his being wouldn’t be well for long. Fenzig took a step toward Duke Rehmir, but one of the guards interceded. The human pointed a weapon at the gnome and scowled.
“I didn’t really steal them,” Carmella said. “I picked up the gnome along the road a few days ago and read his mind. I learned that he was going to steal them. In a way, I thought I was keeping them safe by getting them before he did, and in a way I thought I’d get your attention. I guess I still felt like hurting you.”
“You certainly got my attention, Carmella,” the duke said dejectedly. “But you’ve always had my
attention; you just never realized it. And you did manage to hurt me, so I suppose you got what you wanted.”
Fenzig listened to the banter with more than idle curiosity now.
“Father—” Carmella started.
“Father?” the gnome blurted. “You mean she’s your daughter?”
The duke nodded but still faced away from the gnome. “My youngest daughter,” he replied tenderly, “and a treasure in her own right.”
“Treasure!” Carmella huffed. “If you truly considered me a treasure, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. I’d be sitting on your mantel with those . . . those . . . emeralds!”
“Carmella!”
“It’s true, and you know it!”
Duke Rehmir sobbed openly, dropping his pudgy face into his thick-fingered hands. His great shoulders shook. Fenzig watched as Carmella’s hard expression softened, just a little. She took a step forward and reached out to touch him, but stopped herself.
“Maybe I should be happy that I didn’t hold as high a place in your heart,” she said finally. “At least I’m still human.”
“I don’t understand,” Fenzig stated. The gnome wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted the duke to keep his promise. “All this family stuff is puzzling and touching and has absolutely nothing to do with me. But Duke Rehmir and I had a bargain, and now he’s got to . . . arrggh!”
Fenzig stiffened as a jolt of pain shot from his hand up his arm. His chest felt tight, as if the skin across it were much too small, and he struggled to catch his breath. The room was growing warmer, terribly so. It felt as if he were in an oven that was being stoked. He gasped for breath and felt his lungs burn.
His eyes bulged slightly, and he fell to his knees. I’m dying, he thought. The homing spell is doing its job. It’s killing me, and it hurts so very, very badly. His chest grew tighter still, and a wave of hot darkness washed over him.
He heard voices, faintly, the duke’s and Carmella’s. They were distant, and they seemed to echo about the gnome, at first buzzing like bees. Concentrating, he picked out a little of what they were saying, hoping to find anything but the pain to fixate on.
“He has a homing spell on him, courtesy of King Erlgrane,” the duke said.
“I know. I gained that from his mind within an hour of giving him a ride,” Carmella answered. “It moved so quickly on him, I gather, because he was always so nervous, his heart beating so fast and speeding everything along.”
“I told him if he retrieved you and the emeralds I would have the spell broken.”
“You don’t know how to break a homing spell.” It was Carmella’s voice, growing even more distant. “Only a wizard can do that.”
“I know it takes a wizard. But I suspected that if he brought you back, you would be able to break it. Can you lift it?”
“You assume too much,” she said icily. “Though I’ll grant that you have learned something about what I’ve been up to, spellcasting and such. A homing spell is simple, but it is a very potent and vicious enchantment.”
“Can you save him?”
“I hope so. I’m certainly going to try. He’s a fine little fellow, and I enjoy his company. But the spell is already smothering him in its dark magic. I don’t know if I can live with myself if he dies because I waited too long.”
There were other words, but the gnome was beyond hearing them. His ears were filled with a roaring sound, similar to a massive wave breaking against a beach. Except the wave didn’t recede. The noise persisted and grew and was drowning him.
Fenzig experienced a tingling sensation rushing up and down his arms and legs. He felt cold, then hot, then colder than he’d imagined possible. It was as if he were sitting in front of a fire and someone was putting ice all over him and, as soon as it melted, they started pouring the ice all over again. His head throbbed mercilessly, and he imagined that he could hear his own heartbeat. It grew louder and louder, competing with the roar, until it sounded like drums or thunder and overpowered everything.
The sensations seemed to continue forever, and Fenzig wondered if this was death and if all of death would be an eternity of booming heartbeats and heat and chills. Or was death only like this for people who lived dishonestly? Then the thundering of his heart softened, though his head still hurt, hinting that he still lived. The roar became muted, and through it he heard the indistinct words of Duke Rehmir and Carmella. The blackness turned to dark gray, then to a misty fog, then to the blurry image of Carmella hovering over him. He felt warm, unpleasantly so, but the feeling was not so bad as the hot and cold tendrils that had been racing over his limbs.
“He’s going to be all right,” he heard Carmella say. “See! The line on his arm is fading. I countered the spell just in time. But he will need to rest.”
“I knew you could take care of it, dear.”
She helped the gnome rise, easing him into the duke’s comfortable chair. She ran her smooth hand across his fevered forehead and grinned at him. “Maybe if you’d been honest with me, admitted that was a homing spell when I first met you, I might have fixed it on the spot.”
I doubt it, Fenzig thought. There wouldn’t have been any profit in it for you. Aloud, he said, “You saved my life.”
“She saved your life because you saved my other daughters.” The duke’s voice was stronger now, and the only evidence of his tears was slightly-red eyes. “I—or rather Carmella—kept my part of the bargain. Now, if you . . .”
“Daughters?” Fenzig was curious. “You said I saved your other daughters?”
It was Carmella’s turn. “The emeralds are my older sisters. Like you, they are the victims of King Erlgrane’s wizard.”
I don’t understand, the gnome mouthed.
Carmella sighed and stepped back. “The wizard came to our manse one day with a message that King Erlgrane wanted the hand of one of my sisters—any one of them. My father would never let Erlgrane inside these walls, so the message had to suffice. The note claimed the marriage would strengthen the friendship of the people of Burlengren and K’Nosha. I was too young to be included in the request, and I would have declined anyway. Of course, none of my sisters desired to wed him either. My father stood by their decision, and the wizard promptly ensorceled them—turned them into emeralds right before our eyes. That was five years ago. I don’t remember the exact words the wizard used, but it went something like—‘the daughters you so treasure shall be treasures for all eternity.’ I was spared. I guess I didn’t mean as much to my father. But then, I guess there are benefits to not being so treasured.”
The duke blustered, “Carmella, we have been over this again and again. I love you dearly. Because you were too young at the time to marry the king, you weren’t taken in by the wizard’s spell.”
“You’re a duke, a powerful man,” Fenzig interrupted. “Couldn’t you have paid off the wizard or . . .”
“We couldn’t force the wizard to undo his magic—he cast another spell and vanished in a puff of smoke. No wizard I’ve contacted since has been able to break the spell.”
“Then let the people of K’Nosha and Burlengren know what the king’s wizard did.”
The duke chuckled. “Because King Erlgrane was safe in his castle, I couldn’t successfully blame his wizard’s evil deed on him. So few people have actually seen his wizard, anyway.”
Duke Rehmir looked at Carmella. “It broke my heart to see your sisters like this every day. The only thing that saved me from complete despair was knowing you were spared.”
“I was spared because I was never as cherished as they were,” she continued. “You can’t argue the point with me. I wore mother’s necklace after the incident, knew what you were thinking. I was always a devious child, stealing things, playing pranks, never obeying you. I was never ladylike. I was not like my sisters.”
The duke pursed his lips. “But I love you.”
“In your way, and I suppose I should accept that as being enough.” Carmella explained that her mother had di
ed shortly after her sisters were transformed into gems. “Stress, I suppose, or perhaps she died of a heart filled with sadness. After she was gone, there was nothing to keep me here. Father grieved so much for my mother and my sisters that I just couldn’t stay. I couldn’t handle the pitiful atmosphere. So I took a few pieces of my mother’s jewelry, a couple of her cherished vases and trinkets, and ran away from home. I sold most of it to live—except for her favorite necklace.” She dangled her hand in front of the gnome, and Fenzig grudgingly gave her the medallion and watched her slip it over her neck.
“I stole everything else I needed, and I associated with all manner of people for a while—including a fledgling wizard who taught me a few enchantments. An actor I stayed with for a time taught me how to lower my voice, so I can sound like a man when I’m playing Carmen. Another taught me to sew. Evidently Father kept tabs on me, otherwise he wouldn’t have known I could lift your homing spell.”
“I tried my best to find out where you were and what you were up to,” the duke said, “though I had no idea you were masquerading as a peddler. Why?”
Carmella shrugged. “I’m a thief. I admit it. And I’m very, very good at it. What better cover for a thief than to lead two lives—one that’s so flashy and dashing that all eyes are trained on it, and another that clings to the shadows, unseen and undetected?”
“You could give up that life, come back here and stay with me,” the duke implored. “I’ll need help managing the estate. If King Erlgrane is after the emeralds—your sisters—he is up to no good again. He will not rest until he has this land. He’s tried so many tactics these past few years. The emeralds . . . if he possessed them, I’d have to give in.”