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Robert Barlow
Robert Barlow
United States, Oregon

Words: 3623
Access: Public
Comments: 26

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Sneaky Pete's Really Big Burglary (Retitled)

Part thief and part illusionist, Sneaky Pete embarks on the greatest burglary of his life.


(Author's Note: This humorous fantasy was originally published online at AlienSkin Magazine in August 2004 as Sneaky Pete's Little Brother." It was subsequently revised as the first chapter of the novel length manuscript Sneaky Pete's Family Jewels. This is the original version retitled.)

The sentry snoring almost as loudly as the other blanket rolled men made it look too easy. A sparkle under the half open saddlebag cried out for rescue. The bag sat on a blanket covering a jumble of supplies. Just a quick grab and I'd be on me way. That's when Ham, the cook with the bad breath, grabbed me legs from underneath the blanket. I'd have stuck him, but the rest of the men were ready with the net. Very inconvenient actually. Those humans were quite dishonorable to kick a gnome while he's down. I would never kick someone while they were down. Rifle there pouches maybe. Fortunately, I had me leather vest and their chief stepped in.

'Pull off him.' I knew the voice right off. Bloody Bancroft of the Blood Brothers. Not very inventive, that's for sure. Even their messy murders weren't unique. Anyhoo, up they pulled me by the roots of me snowy beard, still netted, and over to the fire now stirred anew.

'Pete, the sneak thief,' Bancroft said. 'You are much too predictable. If I didn't need you for a job, I'd never ask you to join the Brothers.'

'Job?' said I, looking the fellow over in the firelight. He hadn't changed at bit. All that long brown hair and nice teeth were no good, of course. It was the broken nose and wart above his upper lip that were his best features. Much like me own warts, except mine have little beards. Anyhoo, Bancroft had a proposition for me.

'You'll pick your way into the Humphrey mansion and take care of any traps.'

'You want me to go into the middle of a wild beast preserve?' Bancroft had the gall to nod. 'I can recommend a good priest instead.'

'What for?'

'For last rites, you fool.' Not me most keen of moments. After they pulled me back upright, I realized that mad or not he was quite serious.

For the next several days they kept me trussed in the back of a wagon. They thought they were quite generous with a few gobs of soggy bread. While we traveled I saw more than they expected. If they'd been smart they'd have covered me eyes as well. Big folk often under think us smaller ones.

I saw right away that Bancroft's only true friend was Grant. That man carried a nasty sharp rapier, but his water flask might as well have been a whisky bottle. He might've been a threat if ever caught in a sober moment. There was a truly dangerous fellow though, called Kaki. He was quite dark, much browner than me. Hooded most of the time I had only one chance to look him over. Though brief, I got an eye full of finger bone necklaces, braces for small blades, and a piercing stare. That was the look of a killer if I ever saw one. Of them all he was most likely to pierce gnomish backside.

There was also Frankie, their tough man with the spiked club. Fargo the cruel woodsman carried the usual axe and bow common to his type. He had a bad temperament against the little furry creatures and big ones now that I mention it. The twins, Bill and Bart, kept up an annoying game of head butting one another. There never was a clear winner, but the obvious losers were their tiny brains, bouncing inside their thick, dented bone caps. They loved to double-team the extra men, knocking them about whenever they had the chance. Those poor chaps were Tom, Dick, Harry, Larry, Daryl and a couple of other damn fools who weren't worth remembering. Those boys left me alone most of time, unlike that damnable cook. Ham had those two bloody meat cleavers. He never cleaned them; I swear. Him it was that fed me the sop and whispered with fetid breath how he might go about cooking up gnome. It was enough to curl me beard.

When we arrived at the edge of the preserve we had to leave the wagon behind when we climbed over the long rock wall next to a stream meant to ward the creatures on the other side. Over the years Archibald Humphrey would safari to remote places and bring back many a strange beastie. Those brigands forced me to tramp around the trees and then through the grass over me head. I would've been off at the first hint of trouble, but for the inconvenience of the collar and lead Bancroft pulled me about with. I slowly worked a way to slip the wrist bindings and once I'd picked the collar lock I'd be gone in a pixie poof. That was the plan until that obese unicorn found us.

I can't say for sure that it was a unicorn. It was the one big horn on its snout that made me think so. The thing was gray all over, with armor thicker than a king's charger. It's own mad charge nearly shook me off me feet. Thankfully that thunderous beastie spiked poor Larry instead. Got him through and through, it did, and he stuck fast over it. We were fortunate that his lumpy mass blinded the thing. Bancroft shouted to Frankie and that brute hoisted me under one smelly pit and off we went. It was some time before fat boy put me on me own two feet again.

I thought we'd have to wander the expanse for a good deal to find the mansion, but then I realized that these folks had been in the preserve before. At least Fargo had. He knew those parts as if he'd ranged them. We went straight to a mining shaft. That hole hadn't been used in some while and it was pretty well hid from sight. They didn't go straight in. Rather a smoke fire they fanned inside and then arrayed themselves about the entrance. It took a while but soon enough the rats came out. Most were average dog height. A few were me own size with the lead nasty as big as a dwarf. Bancroft held me back and then I got to watch the fools display their skills for me. Frankie was an unimaginative bore. His club only knew how to go up and down, the spikes in an out. At least the others had more variety. Grant had the quick stick. Fargo used his axe like he was cutting for the fire. I think that he would've taken the time for torture afterwards if Bancroft had given permission. Kaki's daggers impaled a throat on every throw. Something of a challenge considering that rats face downward when they're not leaping at you. Dick it was who didn't have the mind to side step. One of the bigger rats took a big chunk out of him. He limped along afterwards, but I knew that sooner or later the green stink would take that wound.

We were forced to wait a bit while the smoke cleared. Then out came the brands and we burned our way through the webs. Of course, they had me scout for traps, held at length by Bancroft like a dog on the hunt. There were none, but I spied old tracks that had the same look of Fargo's hart skin boots. We must have trudged for hours. Quite tiresome for little legs. At the end of it all hung the door, a round peg in a hole. Iron no less.

'I'll need me hands for the lock you know,' said I to Bancroft.

'All right. But the collar and lead stay on. If you even think about running we'll poke you're backside.'

'Dead gnomes don't disarm traps very well,' said I. Fortunately he'd freed me hands so I could brace me fall. Nasty cuffer.

The lock wasn't too hard after all. It was the alarm that bothered me. I had more than enough picks for the job, but once the last tine fell in place the rope was sure to jerk the clanger. It took a fair amount of twine to fix an anchor. A fine bit of rigging I should say. Too bad the door was rusted fast. That forced them all to chip in, with Frankie bearing the greater share. I think that he popped something in the lower backside from the way he held himself after. Still the job got done, though you would've thought that the tortured rust breaking free was worse than the alarm. Inside we found an old vintage cellar. Little remained and what did looked like vinegar. Still, Bancroft had to pull Grant away from sampling them all. Of course, I was smart enough to check the run of stairs, and sure enough they were designed to fold.

'Stand far enough back, you louts.' I yanked the string I'd attached to the linchpin and the stairs turned into a slide ending with a wide hole that swung open at the foot. We crept forward to view the nasty spikes at the bottom all decorated with bones. I spied the crank and a few turns set everything back in place.

'Is it safe now?' asked Bancroft.

'It is if you don't put your weight on the pressure steps,' said I.

'You first. I'll extend the lead at the side of the staircase while you show us where to step. Use this chalk.'

I shrugged and did me part. It was easy really. After all, I'd seen the mechanism. The real challenge would've been figuring the pattern from the top down. I've never seen such big men step so lightly after me. All except Dick. He moaned about his awful wound and asked leave to stay behind. Bancroft told him to guard the exit.

We emerged into the kitchen and what a mess. Me handler pushed me toward the dining room. There must have been an inch of dust settled in that room, all except for a path scuffed on the red carpet. That path circled a long table concealed by a pile of dirty dishes. It smelled as if the leavings had been rotting for some time. We followed the path out into the foyer and watched the dusty divide head up wide stairs. Three other causeways appeared to be undisturbed.

'That way,' Bancroft pointed to the library. Now of course it made better sense to me to take the path more traveled; money tended to be near the people. Try to explain that to a bunch of boobies.

The library hosted quite a trophy display. It seemed that old Humphrey liked to bring the beasties back both dead and alive. The shelves were chock full of interesting titles about far off places. The first thing that came to mind was the hint of exotic treasures that might be hidden amongst those pages. The stuffed beasties excited the Blood Brothers. Most were the growly sort set to stand upright on their hind legs. The big white one had claws almost as long as me beard. Its arms had been set apart like it was ready to grab a man. And so it was. One of the twins, Bart I think, had the mischief to push old Harry up against it. I'm sure he only meant to give him a fright. The pressure plate lay right in front of the creature and when poor Harry stumbled on it the two arms swung inward. I heard more than one gasp as the rest of them backed away. The design was quite ingenious really. That trap would never have harmed me though. At the most, had I been the brunt of Bart's joke, one of the pinky claws might have snagged me flop hat. Harry, on the other hand, was tall enough to have the paws meet at his neck. Poor bastard.

I made good use of that distraction, as I always do. Out came me slim pick and me collar lock popped free. I left it as is to keep up appearances. A quick scan about and I knew that the others were standing too close to make a dash for it; I needed something else. And there they were, those tall library shelves standing askew. We gnomes have an eye for such things and that depository of knowledge had long been in disrepair. I sidled over bit by bit until I stood near one corner. Sure enough, the shelves were a solid unit supported by the wall, but not part of it. It didn't take much to pull the whole mess over. Now that was a goodly sight. Daryl, Tom and the two other nobs were pinned by the worst of it. Ham took a big dictionary on the noggin, which might be the only way for learning to get in there. The rest back peddled from the clattering tomes and thumped up against the growlies. Fargo fell with one like a pair of lovers. It served him right, caught between the claws stuck into the floor and right underneath the roaring mouth; I didn't feel an ounce of pity about the disturbed spider's nest. Fargo screamed all the louder when the creepsy crawlies tumbled out of the beasties' mouth. I saved me chuckling for later. With the collar off, I ducked between Frankie's bowlegs and was out the library door with me beard wagging after.

The knife quivering in the clock stand announced that Kaki wasn't far behind me. Now I'm not as nimble as I was two centuries ago, but I still manage to give most humans the slip. Not Kaki. That assassin was able to run, follow me sudden changes of direction, and chuck those skin prickers with near deadly accuracy. Now I'm quite good, better than most in fact, but even I have to admit when I'm bested. Had we gone much longer, bad luck would've had me rump for Kaki's pincushion. That's when we ran up against a wall of walking flesh. The body filled up most of the dark hallway. I didn't stop, but popped through those massive leg posts and on down the way. Kaki wasn't as fortunate. I felt relief when I heard the scuffle and felt even better when I found the servant's stairwell to the upper floor.

There were lots of bedrooms upstairs, but I was after the master one. An elaborate affair, it was easy enough to find. The stink was almost too much for me though. Poor old Humphrey managed to escape all those far off dangers only to die in bed. Problem was that's where they left him. Mostly just bones and tattered nightclothes by then, so I figured he wouldn't mind me looking around some. It was an interesting bedchamber if you didn't mind the slow rot of an old man. I used a big clothespin to stop up the sausage on the end of me face. It was the very same clothespin I'd used to start a short-lived career as a grave robber. Anyhoo, the chamber was full of various creature pelts, mostly of the furry variety, but a few bare hides as well. I went through the chests of drawers until I found one that didn't have Archie's woolen long bottoms. Inside of it was a rare find. The drawer was stacked with vials and vials of treatments against the teeth, claws and stingers of various beasties. There were some scent lures as well, but most were antidotes. I swear that there was a little of everything; from the sting of a Cockatrice to the frosty bite of a Winter Wolf. It all went into the hiding places I keep about me body. I was grabbing the last of it when the half ogre walked in.

In the dark hallway he'd been just a shadow. In the light of the bedroom the shaggy hair over a sparse beard nearly touched the ceiling. I knew right off that he was no mere human. And then I remembered the rumor about Humphrey once capturing a great big hill ogre and chaining it up in a cage. Apparently there had also been a very plump woman who ran Humphrey's kitchen. When she brought meals to the ogre she took a liking to him and, um, shall we say that she took advantage of his incapacitation. I realized that the proof of their love stood before me like a small mountain.

'Why are you disturbing the master?' What a voice that one has when he's upset. It's a good thing I've got extra hair growing out of me ears.

'Uh, I don't think that anyone has disturbed your master in some time.'

'If he didn't give you leave to come in here, I'll have to throw you out like I did that other fellow.'

'The one with the dark hooded cloak?'

'The same. When I scolded him he got surly and tried to poke me. I had to take his penknife to keep him from scratching me. The fool resisted, and I felt his arm snap. Served him right if he was going to be a rude guest. So I stripped him down to his small clothes and sent him out the front door.'

'You stripped him down?' I couldn't keep the giggle from escaping.

'Yes. That's what my mother used to do to me when I was naughty.'

That was a thought that I didn't find amusing. Nor did I like the thumping coming up the main staircase. I needed an escape route.

'I think that there are some other rude guests on their way to disturb the master,' said I. 'They made a frightful mess of the library I'm afraid.'

'I'll see about that.' Out of his baggy rear pockets the almost ogre pulled two thick mitts, the backs of which were covered in metal studs. On those went. He stepped inside the room and waited to one side of the doorway. I decided to lean against the chest of drawers to have a watch.

The footfalls came down the hallway and sure enough, headed for the open door. The first inside were Bill and Bart, swords ready, but not enough. The mitts wrapped around their necks and swept their heads together. It was the twin's last go at head butting. They fell to the floor in time for Frankie to step in. He was a bit more prepared, but none the smarter. Up swung his club, sticking the spikes into the ceiling. Before he could get it loose, he took two punches that left studded tattoos on what had been a round face. They started wrestling after that, leaving me to be chased by Bancroft and Grant. Now that was a crazy scramble. Under the bed and around the furniture, all the while trying not to get squished by the two whales rolling across the floor. Eventually, I found me way out and downstairs. Bancroft and Grant weren't nearly as quick as Kaki, but I think that it was me poor diet that made me tired. They managed to keep me in sight even when I darted into the kitchen and down the cellar. I swung over the railing with Bancroft following. Behind us, I heard Grant hit a pressure step and slide screaming into the pit. Bancroft ran out the tunnel door, no doubt thinking that he was hot on me. Foolish humans. It doesn't take much to trick you. Anyhoo, I locked him out and that was that.

'Let the unicorn have him,' said I.

That's when I heard poor Dickey moaning in one corner. Now that one never came off mean to me like the others. So I fished out the cure for rodent bite, and gave it to him. It seemed that Dick-o fell in with the Brothers through a misunderstanding. He had his heart set on the thievin', not the murderin'. Clearly, he wasn't qualified, but they kept him on anyway to do their gopher work, which he does for me now.

Anyhoo, old Prescott, me new half-ogre friend, took out the unconscious forms of Frankie, Ham and Fargo. He stripped them down to their small clothes, according to his practice for rude guests you know. I splashed them awake, though not with water. You see, Archibald Humphrey might have let his wine stock go to pot, but he kept a number of good spirits up in his room. I'd sampled a few, and it was too much for me wee little bladder. Anyhoo, up they all went and I warned them to be quick because I'd sprinkled their small clothes with tiger lure.

After that it didn't take much to become a welcomed guest, especially since I look like Prescott's older half brother. Maybe I'll stay on a while to help clean up the library and have a look-see at some of those exotic books.

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Comments  
Kagmi Comment by: Kagmi - 2007-07-19 15:56
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Wow, I really enjoyed that one. Sneaky Pete's voice is indeed quite unique, and I especially enjoyed his descriptions of the other characters. I also found the sort of mix between fantasy and western appealing--not too classically or flashy fantasy, but with that added bit of interest. As I mentioned I really like short stories so I'm very much enjoying your upload gallery. :D
Comment by: - 2007-07-01 23:12
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I really liked this piece because it didn't seem like a fantasy, it seemed much more simple and fun. I want to read more.
cfmillhouse Comment by: cfmillhouse - 2007-05-24 17:14
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This was a fun read. I found myself smiling as I read it. I'm looking foward to reading more of Pete and more of your work.
byzantiumreview Comment by: byzantiumreview - 2007-05-14 20:36
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It's fun and not too tied up on some of the more "formal" fantasy rules, which is refreshing. The only thing I noticed was that some of the language got a little distracting. Fantasy tales generally have a Medieval period setting, however your use of terms like "preserve", "alarm", and "mansion" seem more contemporary than Medieval period would allow for. Not sure if it's all that important, but that's my reaction.
Elmore Comment by: Elmore - 2007-05-04 19:18
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So that is what a gnome sounds like. Love the dry gnomish understatement and humor. Pete is a really cool character. Good luck with him.
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By Robert Barlow

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