The Crystal Rat of Luxor
By: Latif Posted on: June 22, 2008
The shrill cries from the Medina began to fade as Latif scurried down a tiny alleyway. He'd glimpsed the person he was looking for: Crazy Hakhim. Almost as soon as he spotted the old man he lost sight of Shallam's rat buyer. As he ran full speed around the corner he almost collided with a burly, foul-smelling rock of a man, in heated negotiation with Hakhim. "That is the corpse of a red rat, you one-armed, goat's gizzard. You haven't seen one of those in your whole miserable rat sniffling life. It's worth 200 sovereigns if it's worth a Croat. It's the biggest damn rat you've ever seen, and you know it!" Crazy Hakhim muttered something unintelligible to himself as he looked down on the body the size of a big house cat. It was an impressive corpse, with the red eyes of a black rat, but with fangs twice as long. It's coat was a mottled swirl of black and red fur. Finally Hakhim looked up at the bruiser, "One hundred gold, final offer." The colossal brute was a human, even if he stank like an orc. He grinned wide enough for Latif to appreciate the large gaps in his dentures. "Well, I guess I'll just have to take it over to Maric. Now there's a man with a deep appreciation for the nobility of this beast. He can make a pair of gloves for Juliet out of the pelt." "One fifty, and not a sovereign more!" "Good enough, you crazy miser. Now you possess the greatest rat in the world." The bent old man gingerly counted out the gold and handed it to the obese warrior. As this transaction was completing, Latif blurted out, "Actually that's not exactly true." He instantly regretted it. Why did he have to be so impulsive? He could have just bided his time, traded in his measly three baby rats and walked off with enough gold for a decent dinner. Instead he had attracted the unwelcome attention of a psychotic merchant and a monster. Both turned on him. The hulk grabbed his collar before he could run for cover. "That's the biggest rat in all of Sapience and I'll crush the skull of anyone who calls me a liar!" "Great," Latif thought to himself, "whoever said 'The truth will set you free!' has never been pinned up against a rough-hewn stone wall and asphyxiated by a cloud of bad breath smelling of garlic and cheap wine." "No, no, kind sir, you are most assuredly correct. I have never seen a corpse that huge. This is the largest rat one could ever kill. All I meant is that, once, I saw a larger rat. Only no one, not even a great warrior such as yourself, could ever kill it." The bully was not placated. He hoisted Latif even higher. "Do you know who you're talking to here, pip-squeak? I am Strathor, the Unconquerable, the greatest ratter who ever lived! I have plumbed the stinking depth the Serpentis sewer. I have cleaned out the foul cellar of the Seadog Tavern. And I even found a baby rat in the Village of Eleusis. I was ratting before you were born, you little Mhun weasel." Unless he came up with an amazing story, Latif could easily imagine that his career as a jester and his adventure in Shallam might be very short lived. He tried on his most charming smile. "I can't believe it! Strathor, the Unconquerable? I am so honored to finally meet you! Why, your fame has traveled all the way across the Mhojave to Moghedu, where I was born. I have been searching across all of Sapience to find you, just to tell you of my tale; because above all men, you alone would most appreciate the story of The Crystal Rat of Luxor." It was working. The ogre's face softened, and deep trenches of curiosity rippled across his brow. "Really? All the way to Moghedu. I'll be. OK, my foxling. Go ahead, tell me your story." "Oh well," Latif thought to himself, "in for a sovereign, in for a credit. I might get that dinner for free. It was true what The Lord of the Carnival once said, 'Sometimes the best prank is the truth.' " To Strathor Latif said, "Finally, my quest almost complete. But let's get out of this sun. I'm dying of thirst. Since you just managed to sell the most precious rat carcass in the land, let's head over to The Silverdrop. Perhaps you could stand me a round of drinks, while I tell you my tale." A quick, glib tongue is always the best muscle to develop. Strathor dropped Latif to the ground and then threw his massive right arm over Latif's shoulder. The odor of his armpits nearly did the poor young lad in, and that well-muscled arm prevented any flight. They headed off toward the popular pub and gambling den. The bar was the usual crowded smoke filled circus. The strip show in the corner was getting most of the loud attention from the raucous crowd. Latif shouted in the big guys ear, "We gotta get upstairs. I can't hear myself down here!" Upstairs was a relief. They sat at a table and Strathor bellowed at the bartender, "A bucket of mead!" "I'll have a Golden Sunrise." Latif's voice almost squeaked. When Fak'trar the bartender came over to their table Latif added quietly, "and please hold the Tequila." He felt like a wimp. But he was serious about joining the Sentaari. Right now, he had a powerful thirst and he knew too many Golden Sunrises would get him plastered. His mentor, Mistress Lys Darkstar, would nail him for public drunkenness. "So tell me your lies about a bigger rat than my red beastie." Fak'trar came over and slammed down the drinks, and the gold sovereigns to pay for them came out of the rat killer's pack. As Latif took a cool swallow of his tangy drink he noticed that Crazy Hakhim had managed to wander across the city and just happened to end up a short distance away, apparently lost in some inner conversation. "But still within listening range." Latif thought to himself and smiled. The old coot wanted to know about the Crystal Rat, too. "In Moghedu," Latif began, "you learn to set traps and snares almost as soon as you learn to walk. In the heat of the summer nothing stirs on the desert, and any critter you catch in the tunnels may mean the difference between your family eating or not for a few days. It was two years ago, and I was already restless for adventure. But I never neglected the chore of checking my traps. "Late afternoon, and I had only one snare left to inspect. At first, as I held up my lantern, it looked as though the trap had been sprung, and some varmint had already made of with the tiny bite of bait. I was about to reset it when I noticed that the empty noose was shaking. It was a tiny tremble, but all the same, something odd was going on here. Holding the light closer all I could see was the thin rope and the rock floor. But there was a slight blur to the image, as though my eyes were very slightly out of focus. "I reached down to touch the noose, and then something sunk fangs deep into the palm of my hand. And then things got really weird." Latif finished off his drink and motioned to the bartender for some more. "I'll go on, but I need something to lubricate my story. You must understand, it is paradise for a Mhun to be around so much to drink!" Fak'trar said, "Here's your Golden Pyrite Sunrise, sonny boy," and slammed down a pitcher of the nonalcoholic brew. The Unconquerable grumbled a moment, and then said, "More mead here, too! My bucket's almost empty." Then he laid some gold on the table, for Fak'trar to snatch up. Latif took a deep gulp. "There must be a kind of language the underlies the language of words. It's not like I heard someone talking when I got bit. It was far spookier than that. It was like ideas and images were being pulled from my mind and then handed back to me. I can't describe it, so I'll pretend it came in words, so that you will understand me. This very ancient and very different being said, 'Bring my son home to me. The little inquisitive rascal has wandered off again.' "I could feel something furry climb into my hand, and gently lick the blood from my skin. I didn't mind. The wound no longer hurt. And besides, I wasn't really in charge of my body so much any more. I knew that I had to do what this voice bade me do, and I had to do it right now. I somehow knew that, to bring this fellow home to his father, I would have to travel to the top of the Vashnar range, almost to the Pillars of Heaven. "I didn't mind. The request seemed eminently reasonable. I thought about dropping by my home to grab some clothing and water, but the being in my head assured me that I would not need them. I wondered for a moment about grabbing a weapon larger than the dagger I carried, but again that essence calmed me. I knew that I need fear no brigand or no mountain lion as long as I was on this quest. I was protected. And the voice spoke true. I walked day and night without rest, without food and without fear. "Once we entered the sunlight, I could begin to see the blurry form of the critter in my hand. Finally I said to it, 'Hey, what do you really look like?' Immediately he became visible, and I saw that I was holding a young rat, but one seemingly made out of animate clear glass. "The little one could not speak to my mind. He just scurried up my arm, and nestled under my hair stretching around my shoulder and my neck. Soon I could feel the vibration of his tiny snore. He slept for the seven days that I trekked uphill. "I knew exactly where to go, although today I could no more tell you where it was than I could fly to the moon. Towards the end I kept looking for a red colored vein of iron slanting sideways. Once I spotted it, I knew that, behind a thick clump of dead brush, there would be the entrance to the lair of whoever it was who summoned me. I was eager to meet this being. "It was a narrow squeeze, even for a sixteen-year-old Mhun. Once inside, I never got off my hands and knees. Often I was writhing like a snake to get through the tunnel. But it was never dark. Glowing crystals lit my way, now ruby, now goldenrod, now azure. Finally ahead I could see the tunnel light up in a prismatic glow. I had arrived, at last. "I tumbled down into a cavern the size of a small chapel. My little charge scampered down my leg. I could see his glassy form scoot across the floor as it reflected the many-colored glimmering gems shining from the walls around us. "The rat child scuttled up a stone ramp and into the arms of his Dad. There before me was a rat the size of a guard dog. His eyes glowed sapphire blue. His kaleidoscope pelt constantly reflected the rainbow around him. At times he all but disappeared, all but those blue piercing almost human-like eyes. At times he was a swirl of differing colors. In a word, he was breathtaking. "I could feel the magic radiating from him like a tiny sun. I heard him again in my mind. 'Thank you, young Mhun, for this kind deed. My little sire has quite an adventurous spirit, much like your own. I am in your debt; an uncomfortable place for any rat to be. I hope that my debt will someday be fully repaid. Now go back to your home cave. Know that, on your return journey, you will also be under the protection of myself, the monarch of Luxor.' Latif finished the third of his drinks and turned to face both Strathor and Hakhim and said, "The story of my encounter with the Crystal Rat King of Luxor is true, and I swear it on my devoted allegiance to the Goddess Valnurana." "And that's the only part of the story that's true," he thought to himself. Hakhim grunted and walked out the door. Strathor belched and then asked in a slurred voice, "Lot's of rats in Moghedu?" "Black rats run in packs there. But that should never be a problem for a warrior such as yourself. However, the Mhun are a bit testy with strangers. Hey, I forgot. You're no stranger! You're Strathor the Unconscionable! You're my drinking buddy, now!" "Yeah, I'm your buddy!" he agreed, as his right elbow slipped off the table. "I'm gonna' go to Moghedu and bag me a slew of big old black rats. Then I'll go and find that glassy one, and bash his head in! "You're just the man to do it, Strathor. And since you're my buddy now, I'm going to give you a code phrase in Mhunish that you can say to any guard who is giving you a hard time, OK?" "You bet, buddy!" Latif leaned over and whispered a few phrases in the basher's ear. "Now repeat them back to me so that I know you got it!" After a few tries, Strathor had it as close to perfect as the inebriated dolt could get. Soon the giant lay with his head on his hands, snoring from the exertion of language acquisition. Then Latif slipped a few gold pieces out of the big man's purse, as his storytellers fee, and left the tavern. Latif was smiling all the way back to the Archway. His only regret was that he wouldn't be around when Strathor tried on that magic phrase. He wanted to watch the melee when Strathor called some Mhunish guardsman a bastard son of a broken down camel.