Okay, this could either turn into a complete disaster or a relative success. I honestly have no idea at the moment. But I do know it'll be reasonably long when complete and will take forever to write. Of course, this is not a popular fandom, so I don't expect a lot of readers for this story. So maybe I won't upset too many people with this thing.

All right, here's some background knowledge. "Another Fine Myth" was written in 1978 by the late Robert Aspirin (who passed away in 2008). I was not alive then. I wasn't alive even a decade later after he wrote several more stories for the series. I did not discover this series until many years later in my father's library. Specifically, I discovered them during the long break between the publication of "Sweet Myth-tery of Life" and "Myth-ion Improbable." And I deeply enjoyed the series and continued to read it once Robert Aspirin started writing again, when he started collaborating with Jody Lynn Nye, and when she took over the series after he passed. In summary, I loved the books and I highly recommend them to anyone who enjoys a fantasy/adventure/comedy series.

Now this story is something a bit different than most of my works. The first and most important fact is that this is a retelling/rewrite of the first book with a small alteration. Yeah, that sounds like the laziest thing possible, but it is actually a lot work to rewrite an entire story. You have to faithfully recreate a professional work while incorporating small alterations and figure out how they would affect later events and the entire plot. I've done it before with a film (rewriting the entire "Transformers: Dark of the Moon" film). It's just hard to do a good job with it. And now I'm doing it with one of my favorite books and that makes me a little nervous.

Second, this is my first time writing a fanfiction for a piece of literature. I've done movies, television shows, cartoons, and even video games. But books are different. You either have to match and copy the writing style of the original or figure out a way to copy the tone in your own style. And you have to make sure that your quality is just as good since it is easier to compare writing to writing than it is a movie to writing.

And third, since the books are generally in first-person, I'm going to be mostly using first-person for this story. I usually prefer third-person limited, but the book series almost always used Skeeve's first-person viewpoint. So that's what I'm going to attempt. And if I feel the need to show someone else's viewpoint, I'll switch to third-person for them to make it easier to recognize the change.

Finally, I won't tell you what my minor alteration is at the moment. When you first start reading this, it'll seem really similar to what you read in the book (though you should hopefully be able to understand and follow the story even if you aren't familiar with "Another Fine Myth"). But read closely anyway so that you can start picking up the hints for when the change becomes obvious. It isn't the most original change in the world, but I thought it might be interesting to see what happens and it isn't like there are a huge number of fanfiction stories for this fandom.

I do not own the characters, the plot, the multiverse they exist in, or anything else. They originally belonged to Robert Aspirin and I believe that Jody Lynn Nye has possession of them now. I can barely claim even slight ownership to this plot since it is based directly on "Another Fine Myth." I really don't own anything except my paperback copies of the series.

Maybe no one will ever read this. Or maybe someone will actually give it a chance and like it. I have no idea. But I'm going to give it a try.

Yet Another Fine Myth

"Be a man and face your problems." – P. Oliver

One of the few nice aspects of adults that I'd long since realized was that they could be fooled when dealing with someone younger. It was true when my mother taught me to read, a skill she still managed to share before her death. It was true when my father tried to trade me to the richest man in the small village, leading me to act like I agreed that saving the farm during the drought was worth it until I could manage to run away. And it was true now while learning magik.

"You haven't been practicing!" Garkin's harsh admonishment rang out.

"I have too!" I protested. "It's just a difficult exercise."

As if in response to my words, the feather I was levitating began to tremble and wobble in midair.

"You aren't concentrating!" he shouted accusingly.

"It's the wind," I argued.

Part of me wanted to add "from your loud mouth," but didn't dare. Not only did Garkin demonstrate early in our lessons that he didn't appreciate cheeky apprentices, but a lifetime of experience before magik had already taught me that I wasn't meant to draw too much attention to myself. Even years later, I couldn't completely overcome the instinct to be seen and not heard sometimes.

"The wind," he sneered, raising the pitch of his voice to mimic mine. "Like this, dolt."

My mental contact with the object of my concentration was interrupted as the feather darted suddenly towards the ceiling. It jarred to a halt as if it had imbedded in something, though it was still about a foot from the wooden beams. Then the feather slowly rotated to a horizontal plane before spinning gradually on its axis. After that, it swapped ends and then glided around in circles.

I snuck a quick glance at Garkin. He was draped over his chair, his feet dangling lazily, and his entire attention devoted to biting into a leg of roast lizard-bird, a bird I snared and roasted in the first place. Concentration. Right…

He looked up suddenly and our eyes met. Once again, my constant fear flickered. Did he know? But as always for the last year, I immediately shoved it down. He didn't. He couldn't even suspect it. I made certain of that.

"Hungry?" he asked, his grease-flecked salt-and-pepper beard suddenly framing a wolfish smile. "Then show me how much you've been practicing."

It took me a heartbeat to realize what he meant; then I looked up desperately. The feather tumbled towards the floor, already halfway down. Forcing myself to instantly let go of all tension even in my panic, I reached out with my mind… gentle… like a pillow… easy…

The feather halted a couple hand-spans from the dirt floor.

I heard Garkin's low chuckle, but refused to let it break my concentration. I hadn't let the feather touch the ground in a couple of years and I wouldn't mess that up now.

Slowly I raised it back up until the feather regained eye level. Wrapping my mind around it, I slowly enticed the feather to mirror the man's previous example. As I led it through its paces, its movements were not as smooth or sure as when Garkin set his mind to the task, but I also didn't make any mistakes.

I hadn't been practicing with the feather. I hadn't even been practicing levitation that much, though I did work with keys a bit since I could use that skill. Levitating keys was practical, especially for someone with aspirations of being a thief. But I'd mostly been working on a more advanced and subtle spell I'd discovered in his books, one that I'd been perfecting since near the beginning of my apprenticeship. I was depending desperately on the effectiveness of the spell and ensuring no one noticed it.

"Good enough, Lad. Now put it back in the book."

I nodded and smiled slightly. This part I did practice a little. Everyone deserved a little fun in their lives and this was mine.

The feather swooped towards the open book on the end of the workbench. I sent it to pass gently over the pages before floating past the book. The feather then stopped and swung back the way it came, approaching the book a second time. I disengaged part of my mind to reach towards the book. As the feather crossed the pages again, the book snapped shut like the jaws of a hungry predator, trapping the prize.

"Hmm…" said Garkin. "A trifle showy, but effective."

"Just a little something I worked on while practicing," I said with a little pride.

Certain that Garkin would now be satisfied, I reached out with my mind for the other lizard-bird leg. Instead of floating gracefully to my waiting hand, however, it remained stationary on the wooden platter.

"Not so fast, my little sneak-thief. So you've been practicing, eh?" he said as he stroked his beard thoughtfully with the half-gnawed bone in his hand.

"Certainly. Didn't it show?"

Perhaps he wasn't as easily fooled as he looked. But if he was going to notice something, it was better to realize I wasn't practicing my magik as much as I should and certainly not the spells he wanted me to. My other secret was of far greater importance than my perceived laziness.

"In that case, I'd like to see you light your candle. It should be easy if you have been practicing as much as you claim."

"I can certainly try, but as you have said many times in the past, some lessons come easier than others."

I tried to sound confident, but my spirits plummeted as the large candle came floating to the work table in response to Garkin's summons. In four years of being his apprentice, I had yet to succeed at this particular exercise. If Garkin was going to keep me from food until I was successful, I was going to starve.

"Say, uh, Garkin, don't you think I could probably concentrate better on a full stomach?"

"What I think is that you're stalling."

"Couldn't I just…"

"Now, Skeeve."

There was no swaying him once he used my proper name. I'd learned that much over the years. Lad, Thief, Idiot, Boy, Turnip-Head, and so on and there was still a chance to change his mind. Once he reverted to my real name, my fate was sealed. It was truly a sorry state when the sound of your own name becomes a knell of doom.

Of course, I felt rather fond of my name. While not the most impressive name, Skeeve was common enough that no one would blink twice when they heard it. And while more often used for boys, people would name any of their children Skeeve and almost any decent-sized village would have one. It made my disappearance easier. No one ever noticed another Skeeve sneaking around with plans to steal them blind. Not that I managed to make it that far yet…

Well, if there was no way around it, I'd just have to give it my best shot. There would be no half-effort or feigned concentration. I would have to use every ounce of my strength and skill to summon the power.

I studied the candle with a detached mind, not thinking or looking at anything else in the room. The cluttered workbench, Garkin, and even my own hunger faded away as I focused on the candle. It was unnecessary though; I'd long since memorized every feature.

The candle was stout, nearly six inches across to stabilize its ten-inch height. Copied carefully from Garkin's books at his instructions, I'd carved numerous mystic symbols that were now partially obstructed by old dribbles of wax. I'd burned the candle for many long hours to light my studies, but it was never lit directly by my magik.

Negative thought. Stop it. Focus.

I will light the candle this time. I will because there is no reason I should not.

Consciously deepening my breathing, I began to draw in the power. Everything narrowed further until all I was aware of was the curled, blackened wick of the candle.

I am Skeeve. My father has a farmer's bond with the earth. My mother was an educated woman from distant lands. My teacher is a master magician. I am Skeeve. I will light this candle.

I could feel myself beginning to grow warm, the energies beginning to build within me. I focused on directing the heat on the wick.

Like my father, I tap the strength of the earth for the power I need. The knowledge and spirit my mother gave me before it killed her now served as a lens, enabling me to focus what I have gained. The wisdom of my teacher directs my efforts to the points of the universe most likely to yield to my will. I am Skeeve.

The candle remained unlit. There was sweat on my forehead now. I was beginning to tremble with the effort. No, that was wrong. I shouldn't tense. Relax. Don't try to force it. Tensing hinders the flow of power. Let the energy pass freely. I'm just a passive conductor. I force myself to relax every muscle, my face and shoulders going slack as I try harder.

The flow was noticeably more intense now; I could almost see the energy streaming from me to my target. I stretched out a finger to help focus the energy even more. The candle remained unlit.

I couldn't do it. Negative thought. Stop it. I am Skeeve. I will light the candle. My father… No, that's wrong. Do not rely on others for your strength. Especially not him. I will light this candle because I am Skeeve.

I was rewarded by a sudden surge of energy at the thought. I pursued it, confidence feeding into the power I pulled in. I am Skeeve. I am stronger than any of them. I would have to be stronger in order to be where I am today. I escaped my father's attempt to chain me to the son of the richest man in the village in order to benefit him and my brother. My mother died from the idealism and spirit she'd brought from another kingdom, but I kept my head down long enough to use her teachings to survive. My teacher was a gullible fool who took a thief for an apprentice and never realized my secret even before I studied his books. I have beaten them all. I am Skeeve. I will light the candle.

I felt like I was floating now. I could see how my abilities dwarfed those around me. Whether the candle lit or not was inconsequential. I am Skeeve. I am powerful.

I am a worthless girl.

That intrusive thought shattered my focus and confidence, causing my gathered power to slip away. Another failure. I slumped tiredly, just now noticing the headache my efforts caused. There was no point trying again immediately. My concentration was too broken.

"Honestly, Lad."

Garkin snarled practically in my ear, making me jump. How long had he been that close?

"You can't be this dense. Are you even trying? It is not a difficult spell," he continued. "But you cannot fail forever, Lad. You managed levitation eventually. By the stars, we'll make a magician out of you yet." Shaking his head in frustration, Garkin said, "Here, you should eat something before you keel over."

I barely get my hand up in time to catch the remaining lizard-bird leg before it whacked my face. It was cold.

"What is causing you so much trouble? What makes this lesson so hard? Has it occurred to you that you could use this spell to give you extra light when you're picking a lock or even to start a fire to serve as a diversion?"

"I thought about it, but the extra light could draw attention. And using it for a diversion could be dangerous. I don't want to hurt anyone accidentally, just…"

I stopped, realizing what I was saying too late. A heavy cuff from Garkin sent me sprawling off the stool onto the dirt floor.

"I thought so! You're still planning to be a thief. You want to use my magik to steal!"

He was towering in his rage, the force of his emotions terrifying to behold. But while I knew it was expected of me to cringe meekly, that's not what happened. For once, the sting of impact prompted me to stand my ground.

"And why shouldn't I?" I snarled. "It beats starving. What's so wonderful about being a magician, anyway? I mean, your lifestyle here gives me so much to look forward to."

I gestured at the cluttered room that was the entirety of the hug. Other than the curtain drawn in front of his bed, everything in the roughly-constructed structure was easy to see. Wood walls, thatch roof, and dirt floor with the exception of one stone section, it was a simple place that was just a few steps above being homeless vagabonds. It honestly wasn't that impressive.

"Listen to the wolfling complain," Garkin sneered. "It was good enough for you when the winter drove you out of the forest to steal. 'It beats sleeping under a bush,' you said."

"It still does, which is why I'm still here. But I'm not going to stay here forever. Hiding in a little hut in the woods is not my idea of a decent future. You were living on roots and berries until I showed up and started setting snares. Maybe that's you idea of a wonderful life, Garkin, but it's not mine!"

We glared at each other for several long moments, but doubts began to creep in. Now that my anger was vented, I was more than a little afraid. While I had not had a lot experience on the subject, I suspected that sneering at magicians was not the best way to ensure a long and healthy life.

Surprisingly, it was Garkin who gave ground first. He abruptly dropped his gaze and bowed his head, giving me a unique view of the wild and unkempt mass of hair atop it.

"Perhaps you're right, Skeeve," he said, his voice strangely soft. "Perhaps I have been showing you all the work of magik, but not the rewards. Perhaps that's why you can't be motivated to succeed with this spell. I constantly forget how suppressed magik is in these lands."

He raised his eyes to mine again and I shivered at the intensity. They were not angry, but deep within burned a glow I had never seen before. And that fire unnerved me.

"Know this, Skeeve. Not all lands are like this one nor was I always as you see me now. I've been to lands where magik is recognized instead of feared as it is here; it is respected and commissioned by those in power. There, a skillful magician who keeps his wits can reap a hundred times what you could ever claim as a thief. And wield such power that…"

He broke off suddenly and shook his head as if to clear it. When he opened his eyes again, the glow I'd seen burning before had died to an ember. But the fire wasn't completely gone, so I was still cautious. I knew that fires burn.

"But you aren't one to be impressed by words, are you, Lad? Come, I'll show you a little demonstration of some of the power you may someday call upon. If you practice your lessons, that is."

The joviality of his voice was forced. I nodded my agreement in response to that burning gaze. Honestly, I needed no further demonstration. His soft, brief speech had awed me more than any angry tirade or magik display, but I did not want to contradict him at this time.

I don't believe he actually noticed my response. He was already striding towards the large pentagram permanently etched into the large flat stone that made up one section of the floor. As he walked, he gestured absentmindedly and the charred copper brazier scuttled forth from the corner to meet him in the center of the pentagram.

The brazier was probably the first thing to draw me to Garkin. I remembered the first time I peered through the window of his hut, my hair already messily cut short and my clothes loose shapeless things. I looked for objects of value for later theft and caught a glimpse of my future teacher pacing around the room. He kept his nose buried in a book, a rare and valuable object, while the brazier followed him like an impatient puppy too polite to jump on its master for attention. From there, I watched him start mixing ingredients from his workbench, but my mind already started considering the possibilities that magik might offer. If magik could make a copper brazier scurry around like that, perhaps it could change or disguise what I was. The brazier initially drew me to Garkin, but his books sealed the deal.

Whenever he left the hut, I read his books desperately for a spell that could help me. I didn't expect to find anything in the impressive-looking tomes with mystic symbols on the cover that Garkin used for my lessons, so I searched the others. A few were written in tongues I didn't recognize and I couldn't understand what other books were talking about, the discussions and theories far too advanced. But in a book that looked more like the ones my mother brought secretly from a different kingdom when she was young and later used to teach me to read, a book that looked nothing like the ominous and mysterious tomes that Garkin preferred, I found a spell that did exactly what I needed.

The book called it a Crypton Detail-Oriented Perception Obscurer, but I figured secret-hiding spell was less of a mouthful. From the description, a magician could take a small fact or trait about themselves and lock it away so no one would notice that fact. Others would not be able to even consider the possibility. It worked best when there were no obvious signs of the secret, otherwise the spell would require more power and would become more noticeable to other magicians, but it was meant to be a subtle and easily missed spell. I couldn't understand the in-depth descriptions of how and why it worked and the references to other techniques didn't make sense to me, but the actual process seemed a little more comprehensible. And even though I still couldn't understand half the words the book used, I spent the next couple of years working on it every chance I could. I stubbornly stuck to the process of trial and error.

While keeping my blonde hair short and wearing loose clothes hid my gender for a while, I was aware of and dreaded the day my age would make it impossible to hide. And I knew the slightest mistake at the wrong time could spell disaster and I would end up just like my mother, if not worse. So the day I locked away the fact I was a girl using the spell, ensuring that no one would be able to even suspect the truth about me, I started to feel like I could finally relax and work on my other lessons.

Something wrenched my attention back to the present. What was it? I checked Garkin's progress. No, he was still at work, half-hidden by a floating cloud of vials and jars, mumbling as he occasionally plucked one from the air to pour into the brazier. Whatever he was working on, it promised to be truly spectacular.

Then I heard it again, a muffled step outside the hut. But that was impossible! Garkin always set the… I began to search my memory. I could not recall Garkin actually setting the protective wards before he started to work. Ridiculous. Caution was the first and most important lesson he beat into my head and part of that was setting wards before you start working. He couldn't have forgotten… but he had been rather intense and distracted...

I was still trying to decide if it would be wise to interrupt Garkin's work when he abruptly stepped back from the brazier. He turned his gaze towards me and any thought of speaking died instantly. This was not the time to do anything except remain silent and docile. The glow had returned to his eyes stronger than before.

"Even demonstrations should give a lesson," he intoned solemnly. "Control, Skeeve. Control is the mainstay of magik. Power without control is a disaster. That's why you practice with a feather even though you should be capable of moving larger and heavier objects. That's why you must master lighting a candle before we consider anything more impressive. Control. Even your meager powers would be dangerous unless properly controlled and I refuse to teach you more until you learn that control."

He carefully stepped out of the pentagram.

"To show the value of control, I will now summon forth a demon, a being from another world. He is powerful, cruel, and vicious. He would kill us both if given the chance. Yet despite this, we need not fear him because he will be controlled. He will be unable to harm us or anything else in this world as long as he is contained within that pentagram. Watch closely, Skeeve. Watch and learn."

With that firm command, he turned once more to the brazier. He spread his hands and five candles at the points of the pentagram ignited. The lines began to glow with an eerie blue light. Silence reigned for several moments. Then he began to chant in a low mumble. A tendril of smoke appeared from the brazier, but poured to the floor rather than rising to the ceiling. A small cloud of smoke that seethed and pulsed formed in the center of the pentagram. Garkin's chanting became louder and the cloud grew and darkened. The brazier was almost obscured from view but there… in the very depths of the cloud… something was taking shape.

"Isstvan sends his greetings, Garkin!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, my heart leaping into my throat. The voice came from inside the hut, but not inside the pentagram! I spun around towards the source. A figure stood just inside the door, blinding in a shimmering gold cloak. For a mad moment I thought it was the demon answering Garkin's summons. Then I saw the crossbow. He was a man, but the cocked and loaded crossbow in his hand did little for my peace of mind.

Garkin did not even bother to turn and look.

"Not now, you fool!" he snarled.

"It has been a long hunt, Garkin," the man continued as if he hadn't heard. "You've hidden yourself away well, but did you really hope to escape…"

"You dare!?" shouted Garkin as he spun away from his work, towering in his terrifying rage.

The man saw Garkin's face now, saw his eyes, and the intruder's face contorted into a grotesque mask of fear. Reflexively, he loosed the bolt from his crossbow, but too late. I did not see what Garkin did; things were happening too fast. But the man suddenly disappeared in a sheet of flames. He shrieked in agony and fell to the ground. The flame disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving only the smoldering corpse and the scent of burnt meat as evidence it ever existed.

I remained frozen for several moments before I could manage to move or even speak.

"Garkin," I said at last, my voice shaking a little, "I… Garkin!"

Garkin's form was a crumpled lump on the floor. I jumped to his side in one bound, but I was too late to do anything for him. The crossbow bolt protruded from his chest, his shirt already staining red and his eyes blank. Garkin had given me his last lesson.

As I stooped down and reached to shut his eyes, I noticed something that froze my blood in its veins. Half-hidden by his limp body was the extinguished candle from the north point of the pentagram. The lines were no longer blue. The protective spell was no longer active.

Terrified by what I might see, I reluctantly raised my head and found myself gazing at a pair of yellow eyes, flecked with gold, that were not of this world.

Yeah, if you haven't figured it out now, I've turned Skeeve into a girl. I was curious about how that might end up affecting things. There are hints in the books that gender equality is not a universal thing across the dimensions, especially in Skeeve's original kingdom and Possiltum next door. His mom's "idealism" got her killed somehow. Brockhurst just refers to Tanda as "a woman" when he's listing the group while trying to be as insulting as possible about each member. Bunny felt the need to hide her intelligence and act as a ditzy moll because she figured that's all anyone was ever going to see her as. Now, I'm not saying that attitude is universal in the book series (far from it), but there are hints that some corners of Klah are pretty backwards in their thinking about women. And since Skeeve was originally a kid from a farm who ran away with no higher aspirations than being a thief and have never setting foot in a decent-sized town prior to the book series, I thought he might have grown up in some of those more primitive corners of the dimension.

So I switched Skeeve's gender and played up those sexist attitudes that were hinted at for at least Skeeve's home kingdom. I wanted to explore how that might change certain parts of the story, the way Skeeve thinks and reacts to certain situations, and how hard it might be to keep that sort of secret for long. Not everything will turn out exactly like the original plot, but it'll certainly be close at times.

Like I said, this is mostly an experiment to see how this small change could affect things. And don't expect fast updates. I'm not expecting many reviews. I just thought it would be interesting to give this a try.