by Jean Rabe
The gnome looked at her. She was telling him the truth, the necklace he wore revealed that. And he knew that she was right. If they’d been here, they would have fled, or more likely died.
The peddler’s face was sweat-streaked, her short, black hair was plastered against her head, and her breath came raggedly. The spell had taken a lot out of her. Fenzig helped her stand.
“Let’s find my father,” he said.
She nodded and followed along. Normally, the gnome would have had trouble keeping up with her long legs. Now, fatigued from her magic, it was the other way around.
“Wonder why the monsters would attack your village?” she huffed.
“They’re called craven cats, but I’ll agree with you that they are monsters. I used to think they were only in the Haunted Woods.”
“So I wonder what provoked them to come here?”
“Erlgrane’s wizard.”
She reached forward to stop him.
“Impossible,” she huffed.
“No, not at all impossible. When I was in that cage in his laboratory, I saw two craven cats dangling from the ceiling. Erlgrane’s wizard made the craven cats, from people I think. And if he could make them, he could control them, send them here.”
“That’s not what I mean. Fenzighan, this attack happened two days ago. The wizard died many days before that—in my father’s study. And he couldn’t have summoned these cats before he died. He was with us—in your pocket, barely alive.”
Fenzig shrugged and resumed his trek toward the woods. “All right. So it wasn’t the old wizard. But it was some wizard, one of Erlgrane’s lesser wizards. I recall what Erlgrane said to me when we were fighting at the edge of your father’s estate.
“I have another wizard, wee-one,” Fenzig remembered the king saying. “He will retrieve me—I guarantee it. I will not be so easily undone. I will have what I want. And I will have you and Rehmir and all his daughters dead. Already I have made you pay for your insolence. All I need do now is finish my work!”
“The king arranged this,” the gnome said sadly. “He told me as much.”
Carmella pursed her lips. “If that’s true, then how?”
“He said he had another wizard. A powerful king can have all manner of wizards, I suppose. Doesn’t matter who he has in Burlengren. I intend to go back to his castle and find a way to deal with them.” The gnome continued marching toward the forest, shutting out Carmella’s argumentative thoughts, and ignoring the dried pools of blood on the ground, where he knew the craven cats had brought down and devoured some of the gnomes. Tired, he forced himself to walk as fast as he could manage and thrust the sensations from his aching chest and feet to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to be caught in the woods—any woods—after dark again. He wanted to find the rest of his people and . . .
“And then what?” he muttered aloud. “Then what’ll I do with them? There’s no more Graespeck.” He heard Carmella struggling to keep up behind him, considered slowing down to accommodate her, and then thought better of it. The sun was halfway swallowed by the horizon. He didn’t have much light left.
“Father!” Fenzig cried as he neared the treeline. “Father!” He called other names, too, the names of gnomes he recognized from his recent trip to town with Carmella. He hollered until he was hoarse, until he wore himself out enough that the peddler finally caught up.
“Fenzighan,” she huffed, as she tugged on his sleeve and sagged against a tree. “I can find life, remember?” She slid down the trunk, grimacing when she heard her shirt snag against the bark. “Just give me a moment.”
The gnome did, grateful for the brief rest. He sat next to her, watching her hands, spotting the firefly lights around her face now that it was darker. They danced about her head for the briefest of moments, then flitted off into the embrace of the trees. He lost sight of them. It seemed like an eternity, this waiting, though the gnome suspected only minutes passed. The shadows hadn’t gotten a chance to get thicker before the lights returned and melted into the smooth skin of Carmella’s face.
“There’s a spring, about a half-mile or a mile deeper into the woods,” she said, weakly gesturing with her hand. “That way.” Her breath was even more ragged than before, the continued use of her limited magic taking a toll on her. “There’s plenty of life there, not animals, too strong I think. Lots of life. Gotta be your people. Not much of a wizard. Sorry, Fenzighan.”
“Thanks Carmella. I . . . “ The gnome studied her face. Her eyes were closed, and her head sagged on her shoulder. She’d fallen asleep from the exertion. Fenzig quietly got up and relied on his thiefly skills to move silently so she could rest. He briefly worried about craven cats. If they came, Carmella would be a quick meal, alone and unprepared. But if they came, Fenzig knew it would be only minutes later before he became dessert.
“Father!” It was twilight by the time Fenzig found the spring and the gathering of gnomes around it. The small cookfires the gnomes had burning led him here—either Carmella’s gesture was a bit in the wrong direction, or his feet had led him a little off course.
The elder gnome hugged his son, began talking about the craven cats, about being not able to stand up to the beasts. Fenzig didn’t stop his father, though he knew exactly what had happened because of Carmella’s spell and had even witnessed some of the atrocities that happened as his father was fleeing. Other gnome voices buzzed around him: Apple-Pie Annie, Alicia, Leonard Smithsward, Nura, and more. To complicate matters, he was picking up so many of their thoughts with the necklace he’d forgotten to return to Carmella, that he was getting a terrible headache. Extricating himself from his father’s embrace, Fenzig plucked the necklace off and stuck it in his beltpouch. She must know how to use this so she only hears one person at a time, he thought.
“Father, it’s dark. We’ve got to get out of here,” Fenzig said. “I’ve a friend at the edge of the woods.”
“That peddler?”
“Yes! She helped me find you. I don’t want to leave her alone. I can’t. It’s possible the craven cats could . . .”
”Come back. Yes, we all know that. We won’t run this time.”
“Not that it would do any good,” Apple-Pie Annie grumbled. “We’re no match for the beasts.”
Fenzig tugged on his father’s sleeve. “All of you, c’mon!”
“Where are we going?” His father asked softly. “We’ve nothing to go home to.”
In the end, a rested Carmella was able to convince the Graespeck gnomes that K’Nosha was the place to go. But she hadn’t yet convinced Fenzig.
“Fenzighan, don’t be a fool!” she lectured. “You can’t go to Erlgrane’s castle.”
“I intend to do something about those other wizards, make them pay,” the young gnome fumed. “Settle things.”
“Oh, do you? And how will you do that? By ending up in the dungeon again? The last two times you broke into the castle you were caught.”
“We were trying to get caught, remember?”
“We would’ve been caught even if we hadn’t tried. You’re a thief, not a hero!” She paced in front of him, balled her fists, then spun to face him. For emphasis, she bent over until she was nose-to-nose with him. “I’m not about to lose my best friend because he hasn’t the sense of a common ground squirrel. Even though Erlgrane’s rotting in my father’s dungeon, there are guards in his castle, wizards probably, people who don’t know their king’s a prisoner. What are you going to tell them, Fenzighan? The king won’t be coming back? Don’t hurt the gnomes or anyone else anymore? That’d be smart. You’d start all sorts of power struggles. Maybe there’ll be fights to see who the next king is. Maybe the guards and wizards will scheme and try to get Erlgrane back. And you’d start it all.”
“Best friend, really?”
“You’d be an idiot to go to that castle. We’d be far better off to go back to my father’s estate. We need to warn him about the band of craven cats, Erlgrane’s lesser wizard. I might not always agree wit
h my father,” she continued to fume. “But he’s wise, and he’ll know what to do. Maybe we can use Erlgrane for leverage. Did you think of that? Get his people to cooperate if they know he’s our prisoner. Then we might have a nice, peaceful, safe way at our fingertips to deal with who and whatever’s left in the king’s castle.”
“Best friend?”
Carmella nodded.
“That’s nice. I’m not sure I’ve been a best friend before.” Fenzig seemed insatiably pleased with himself, temporarily forgetting that they stood in a demolished gnome village with the stars winking into view overhead. “All right. K’Nosha for all of us. But it’s gonna take a lot longer to get there,” he said, indicating the throng of displaced gnomes.
Early morning found Apple-Pie Annie and Leonard Smithsward perched on top of the Carmen the Magnificent wagon, with Carmella and Fenzig taking turns at the reins. A half-dozen other gnomes, including the mad old man from the blacksmith’s, were squeezed inside, and a couple hung from the back. Fenzig’s father proudly rode Summer. The rest of the Graespeck residents walked in front, to the sides, and behind the garish wagon, all of them chattering—about the wagon, Carmella, Fenzig, and the craven cats.
It took the entourage of one human, two horses, and one hundred and sixteen gnomes seven days to reach K’Nosha—the garish wagon was prudently hidden outside of town. And it took a little less than one day for Carmella to call upon the kindness of the citizens and encourage them to take the gnomes into their homes for a while.
Apple-Pie Annie, the appointed gnome spokesman, retold the craven cat attack in great detail and made it clear the Graespeck gnomes intended to return to their village and rebuild it, and that the K’Noshans’ charity would be repaid as soon as possible.
Fenzig was quick to interject his speculation that King Erlgrane was behind the attack.
And Carmella added she wanted to make sure the gnomes would be safe—that everyone in K’Nosha would be safe from the influence of King Erlgrane’s magical and human forces. When she could guarantee that safety, she said she’d have someone personally lead the gnomes home.
“Duke Rehmir will deal with Erlgrane’s forces,” she finished, noting with satisfaction that the crowd of humans and gnomes were hanging on her every word. “My father will not let that foul man’s tyranny spread to K’Nosha and the Northern Reaches. My father will enforce the peace we’ve come to love!”
Amid the cheering, Carmella and Fenzig slipped away from the crowd. “Now to tell my father about all this in person,” she whispered. “He’s not one for surprises.”
“When’s dinner?” Apple-Pie Annie’s voice cut through the air behind them.
17
An Affair of State
“The day after tomorrow, Carmella.”
“But, Father . . . why not tomorrow morning? Why not now? Armies can travel at night. Do travel at night. The men could. . . .”
Duke Rehmir gently held his youngest daughter’s hands. “I intend to do something, Carmella. I intend to do the very thing you suggest. In fact, I’ve already taken the necessary steps—and that was without knowing about the gnomes and Graespeck and those horrible craving cats. . . .”
“Craven cats,” Fenzig quietly corrected.
“In the days since you’ve been gone, Carmella, I’ve increased the number of my troops by a third. The general has recruited young men from K’Nosha and from the Northern Kingdoms. They flocked to my banner when there was even the slightest suggestion they’d see some action. I fully plan to march them . . . peacefully I hope . . . into Burlengren, right to Erlgrane’s castle. My general hopes to peacefully come to terms with the men at Erlgrane’s estate, give them evidence that we hold their king and give them an opportunity to walk away or join us. Erlgrane has no heirs, only distant relatives, and if I do not try to absorb the land into my own holdings, take over the entire area, there could be a civil war in Burlengren. And any war there could adversely affect us and all of the people of K’Nosha and farther north.”
“Set yourself up as the king? Of the entire area?” Fenzig asked. “Is that really such a good idea? I mean, I know somebody has to do something about the wizards and the craven cats. But wouldn’t you be happier just tackling the whole affair while just staying a duke? Less worry, less responsibility. Let someone else take over Burlengren.”
Duke Rehmir seemed not to hear him, continued to talk above Fenzig’s softer gnomish voice. “Carmella, I will hope with all of my heart that my soldiers’ presence won’t start a war. But just in case, I’ll make sure the general has enough men with him to quash any resistance.”
“But the wizards, Father. . . .”
“The general will have plenty of men, Carmella, plenty. And the general is more than capable of resolving matters—peacefully or otherwise.”
She relaxed a little, squeezed his hands, and glanced down to offer Fenzig a smile. “Then why wait, Father? Why not head them out tonight? You’d be a far better king for Burlengren and the southern lands, the entire area, than whoever could possibly arise out of Erlgrane’s castle. King Rehmir. I like the sound of that, I think. Why not start everything moving now?”
“You think he should be a king, too?” Fenzig asked Carmella. But she was caught up in her father and the moment and didn’t hear the gnome.
The duke sighed and shook his head, released her hands, and gestured for her and Fenzig to join him and his three other daughters, who were already seated in the dining room. “Not now, Carmella. The day after tomorrow. You see, also in the days since you’ve been gone, I’ve been planning a gala event. I need to celebrate the return of Elayne, Berthrice, and Ruthe. I want the town to know they are here and well, end all the speculation of where they’ve been these past five years. I need to do this, to tell them all the truth.”
“The horrid rumor circulating in K’Nosha was that we’d all eloped with common men in the Northern Reaches,” Berthrice said. She looked down her long nose at the gnome as he settled down to the dinner table. “A simply horrid rumor. Barbaric. Can you imagine, eloping with unlanded men?”
“That was only one of the rumors,” Elayne added. “Some people thought we’d locked ourselves away in here, thinking those outside the estate were too good for us. Father hadn’t told anyone about . . . about . . . “ The words were hard for her, and she drew her rose-tinted lips together and met Fenzig’s stare. “Father never told anyone beyond the estate that we had been turned into gems.”
“I couldn’t. If I had revealed that news to anyone,” Duke Rehmir interjected, “they would have thought me mad. I needed to keep peace in my lands, and I had no proof what Erlgrane’s wizard did. The wizard and king were too crafty. I always feared that wizard. Now I can tell everyone what he did. And what Erlgrane was up to.”
Ruthe nodded. “You did the right thing, Father, keeping things quiet until now.”
“So now you’re throwing a party,” Carmella said, a touch of sarcasm in her voice. “That’s surely the right thing to do. Wonderful.”
“Ah, indeed it will be wonderful. There’ll be an orchestra. Nobles from the north, businessmen and landholders from town, a few of the richest and most influential men from Burlengren. The cooks have dreamed up a magnificent feast. It has been so very long since I’ve had a reason to celebrate.”
“The gnomes of Graespeck have nothing to celebrate,” Fenzig muttered half under his breath.
Duke Rehmir finally acknowledged the gnome and scowled. “To cancel the gala event now would be to invite more rumor, and word might reach Burlengren that something is truly up, alerting the men at Erlgrane’s castle. We can’t have that.”
“You don’t think marching a bunch of soldiers to Burlengren the day after tomorrow isn’t going to alert someone?” Fenzig quipped. “Don’t you think Erlgrane’s men are already on their guard? You’ve had their king locked up for two weeks. Even if they don’t know you have him, which I suspect they do, they have to know he’s somewhere, that something’s up. His old
wizard is gone, too. Dead. Don’t you think they’ll be ready for something regardless of what day your men go? So why wait? Maybe there’re already power struggles going on with all Erlgrane’s shirttail relatives.”
“He has to wait.” Berthrice glared and the gnome, drew herself up, and squared her narrow shoulders. “To cancel the party, little Fenzig, dear Carmella, would be foolish. Everything has been planned. We have new gowns.”
“The general will march the very next morning,” the duke said, ending the discussion. “And Carmella and Fenzig, you will be the gala’s honored guests.” He clapped his hands, and the servants brought out steaming bowls of sweet potatoes, noodles, and smoked turkey.
The conversation meandered to the topic of the Graespeck gnomes, as Carmella regaled her sisters and father with the details of what her magical spell revealed in the leveled village. Berthrice seemed to lose her appetite when Carmella described the craven cats and the several gnomes who were killed, and quickly switched the subject to fabrics and dyed lace. However, by the time desert came, the duke’s youngest daughter again commanded the conversation and explained about placing the homeless gnomes with the good folk of K’Nosha.
Mmmm, apple pie! Fenzig thought. He didn’t need to listen to Carmella’s account—he’d been there and knew exactly what had happened, and he could care less about lace and fabrics, colors and textures. Fenzig was quick to dig in and grab two pieces of pie, noting with pleasure that the cooks hadn’t skimped on the brown sugar and cinnamon. But with every bite, he hoped the Graespeck gnomes were being fed well, too. And with every swallow he hoped Duke Rehmir was doing the right thing by planning the “peaceful or otherwise” takeover of Erlgrane’s lands. King Rehmir. The gnome wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.