Schemes of the Rat Cult

This is a standalone story, and you can understand and enjoy it without reading any of my other stories. If you like it, you can read about Colin's other adventures in Wish Come True and Lair of the Emerald Enchantress.

*****

Colin sat at a table in a shady corner of a shady bar called The Raven. He nursed a pint of warm, watered-down beer while he waited for his contact. He scanned the bar anxiously. He saw the usual crowd of non-Guild thieves, dissidents, freelance mercenaries, artists, and other undesirables. Many of them scanned the same room with the same visible anxiety.

"Gods damn you, Lem," Colin spat under his breath. His usual fence and business associate should have been there already. He told Colin to find him at The Raven, where they were to meet with an emissary from a client who wanted to remain anonymous.

A haggard-looking woman in a low-cut blouse and a skirt that was little more than rags entered the tavern and started walking from table to table. Colin craned his neck for a better view, wondering if this was the emissary. If she was, he hoped this was a clever disguise, and her rags weren't an indication of the mystery client's ability to pay.

"Hey there, handsome," the woman said when she arrived at Colin's table. She had a face that was leathery and heavily lined, and when she smiled at him he could see that most of her teeth were missing. "You want to pay me two crowns for the best night of your life?"

Colin waved her away impatiently, looking over her shoulder for Lem.

"I tell you what: because you're so handsome I'll let you have me for half price. How about it?"

"Please leave," Colin said through gritted teeth.

"How about you feed me a warm meal, and I'll have your cock for dessert. That's my final offer."

"Go away," Colin said in a growl. The woman snorted at him and walked to the next table to make her offer to another man.

"You know, they say teeth are highly overrated in a woman," Lem's voice said from behind Colin. "There are advantages to being with a woman who doesn't have any."

"How did you get past me without me seeing you?" Colin asked with a start.

Lem shook his bald head and chuckled. "I may be fat and old, but I still have some tricks up my sleeves," Lem told him. He was a heavyset man at the far end of middle age, and his clothes looked like he had slept in them every night for the previous week. He sat himself next to Colin.

"So, why did you want me for this job?" Colin asked Lem.

"They didn't give me details," Lem responded, "but it sounds like some noble's daughter has joined a cult. I figured you would be able to convince her to leave. The emissary will tell us more when she gets here."

Colin nodded and sipped his beer. "If it's a 'she', then I'm sure I can make her tell us what we need to know."

Lem chuckled. "This one's not for you."

Colin shrugged. "You'd be surprised. I have a way with women."

"You think you're so special. You should have seen me when I had hair." Lem proceeded to regale Colin with stories of his youth while they waited. Colin found them suspicious but entertaining. Lem was halfway through a story about how he seduced a pirate queen when a woman walked into the bar.

The woman was tall and stood with a proud, upright posture. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves. She wore calf-high boots made from shiny leather with intricate patterns on them.

She wore a collar made from small gemstones that caught the light, diffracted it into rainbows, and threw it in all directions. The silver wires holding the gems together were thin enough to be invisible from a distance. The cuffs at her wrists and the belt that hung across her hips were made from the same materials.

Besides the boots and the jewelry, the woman was completely naked. Her breasts were full and seemed the exact right size to fill Colin's hands. Her small pink nipples were erect. Her hips were narrow but curved invitingly. Her thighs didn't quite touch, and Colin could clearly see her protruding labia in the gap between them. They glistened slightly in the dim light of the tavern.

The bar fell silent as she walked in. Everyone stared. She took in the room with an aura of pride and confidence, her back straight and her head high. She spotted Colin and Lem and strode towards them.

"You must be the men I'm here to see," the woman said, looking down her nose at them.

"I sure hope we are," Lem said. He indicated the seat across the table. "Please, have a seat."

She wrinkled her nose. She gingerly sat down on the edge of the chair, her hips twisted so only one leg touched it.

"So you're..." Colin asked.

"Yes," she sighed, "I've been put under a Writ of Free Use." She held up her arms and shook her jeweled cuffs.

"My body has been declared property of the kingdom. Any noble can use me however he or she deems fit. Of course, if anyone who isn't a noble touches me, these jewels would detect it and mark him. He'd be put to death." She stared meaningfully at Colin while she said this.

Colin swallowed. "And what should we call you?"

"I'm a creature of pure desire, your wettest dreams come true," she purred. Her voice was husky and resonant. "You may call me Siren."

Colin looked to Lem.

"So... what can we do for you Miss Siren?" Lem asked.

"You," she said without looking at Lem, "can't do much of anything.

"You," she said, reaching across the table to run one finger down Colin's chest, "can work your charms on a young woman for us." She licked her lips and glanced down in the direction of Colin's crotch.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Colin asked.

Siren batted her lashes. She licked her lips and twisted one of her nipples between two fingers.

"I wouldn't mind. You know these things make me constantly horny?" Siren touched her collar with one finger. "They prepare me to be a fuck-toy who's ready for an endless buffet of cock, only for me to be neglected and sent to talk to commoners. It's like the nobles of this city only want to fuck you if they know you wouldn't enjoy it.

"The jewelry is enchanted to keep all of my fun parts healthy and constantly ready. You can be as rough as you want and you won't hurt me. Did you know my back door lubricates itself? What's the point of that if nobody's going to use it?

"I've been free-use for two years now, and nine commoners have died for the chance to fuck me. I'd be flattered if you were number ten."

"You know, my family used to be noble," Colin told her.

"Then you used to be able to fuck me wherever you want, whenever you want, however you want," she retorted. "Used to." She wiggled from side to side for emphasis.

"So..." Colin continued, pulling his gaze up from her full breasts, "if we assume you're not going to convince me to do that, then what do you want?"

"Yes, of course," the woman said in a breathy voice. She dipped her finger in Colin's beer, put it in her mouth, and moaned as she briefly worked it in and out of her soft lips. "Let's assume you're not brave enough to put your dick in me.

"There's a young lady who's been taken in by the Rat Cult. They're calling her Carver. She's being held in their shantytown in the woods outside of the city."

"And you need me to bring her home?" Colin asked.

"The men I work for want her returned. They'll accept her in any condition you can deliver her, but they would prefer to see her alive and intact." Siren rolled her eyes. "I'd rather not have any more trouble from her."

"You want me to... kill her?"

"No!" Siren waved a hand at him. "I don't want you to kill her. I want you to know that she's dangerous. If something happened to her and she didn't make it back alive and intact..."

The woman reached between her legs. She rubbed her pussy with one finger, then raised her hand and placed that finger in Colin's mouth.

"I'd be very grateful. Personally. Besides the money, I might be able to get you a knighthood and all of the..." she looked down at her own body, "privileges that go with it."

Lem cleared his throat. "Can you describe this Carver?"

"She's nineteen years old. Curly brown hair. Slight overbite. Scar on her left shoulder from diving into shallow water as a child." Her eyes never left Colin as she answered Lem.

"And what's her real name? Why does your employer want her so badly?" Lem asked.

"Come, come now," Siren responded, finally looking at Lem. "A girl has to have some secrets. If I can't have this one I'm not sure there's any mystery left to me." As she said this she leaned back on the chair and put her elbows behind her back, causing her chest to thrust forward.

"And what if I bring her back alive?" Colin asked.

The woman sighed and looked down. "You'd still get your money, but I'd be a bit disappointed." She looked up at Colin. "You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

Colin shook his head. "I'm not desperate, you know. You're not the only woman in Drake's Landing."

Siren kept her head down and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I know you're not desperate," she told him. "I just think you'd rather be friends with me than with the asshole nobles who think they can use you and me as their playthings.

"Besides, this isn't some naive innocent girl we're talking about. She's dangerous. You'll see for yourself. When the time comes, I want you to remember that my employer will pay the same to get her back whether she's alive or not.

"So, do we have a deal? Are you going to go get her for us?"

Colin stared intently into Siren's eyes, trying to read her. She returned a seductive look and bit her lip suggestively. He looked back down to her hard nipples. He exhaled heavily. She smiled triumphantly, excused herself, and sauntered out of the tavern.

*****

Colin reached the top of the winding stairs and set his cage down with a heavy thunk. The rats inside made a noise that set his teeth on edge. He picked the cage back up. The rats ran about in a way that shifted the weight to one side. Colin wanted to grab the body of the cage to steady it, but didn't want the rats to bite him through the openings between the bars on the side. He carefully put a hand on the wooden bottom to steady it.

"So, what can you tell me about this Rat Cult?" Colin asked as he carried the cage into the circular room. He set the cage down next to a solidly-built man with white hair.

The white-haired man was named Palin. He worked as beastkeeper for a local lord named Mosel. In his younger days he had belonged to an elite group of warriors known as the Boundary Wardens. Colin knew him to be knowledgeable and resourceful.

"Hard to say," Palin answered as he opened a hatch at the top of the cage and reached inside. The rats bit at the thick leather glove that covered his hand. He grabbed one of them by its tail and pulled it out. He held the rat up to inspect it for a second before he tossed it into the air. A large hunting bird with feathers the color of gold launched itself from a perch on one side of the room and snapped the rat out of the air.

"I had to deal with the Rat Cult in Kormak long before you were born. I don't know if you're familiar with Kormak, but the city has been destroyed and rebuilt a hundred times. There are ruins under the city that go down and down - nobody knows exactly how deep. They call it the Undercity. A lot of unpleasant things dwell in the Undercity, and the Rat Cult was one of them.

"Of course, this Rat Cult is all different people, and even they would tell you this is a new Rat God they worship. The constant cycle of death is part of their faith." He threw another rat into the air, and the large gold bird flew across the room again, devouring the live rat in mid-flight.

"That's kind of their whole deal. They're a doomsday cult, of sorts. They want to see the city torn down, and to watch a new one emerge from its ruins."

"So they're anarchists?" Colin asked.

Palin turned to fix Colin with a hard stare. "Nihilists. Anarchists believe that... do you really not understand the difference, or are you trying to provoke me?"

Colin shrugged. "I don't actually care. Do you think I could just walk into their camp? Would they stop me if I started looking around for the girl they've kidnapped?"

"You're sure they kidnapped her?" Palin asked. "Ransoming hostages is something I associate with more practical criminal organizations. The Rat Cult I dealt with was more interested in stealing, killing, and sowing chaos."

Colin shrugged again. "I don't think it's a ransom situation. Maybe they've brainwashed her? I don't know a lot."

Palin sighed. "Well, if they're anything like the Rat Cult in Kormak they won't let outsiders in. If you want to join they'll make you prove you're a survivor and a scavenger. In Kormak they made initiates prove they were survivors by spending a day and a night in one of the lower levels of the Undercity. They made them prove they were scavengers by stealing something from one of the noble houses."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Colin responded.

Palin shook his head. "Whatever they make you do, it won't be pleasant. The whole point is that it's supposed to be unpleasant. The kind of people who worship a Rat God who wants to see civilization destroy itself don't want anyone to be too comfortable."

"Yeah, they sound like a fun group," Colin said. "If there's nothing else I can do to prepare, I guess I have to just give it a shot."

"Be careful," Palin said as he threw another rat into the air.

*****

Colin carefully approached the shantytown the Rat Cult had built in the woods. The settlement was surrounded by a palisade made of sharpened logs planted in the ground. They weren't tightly fitted, and Colin could see into the encampment through the gaps between.

The shelters inside were made mostly from rope and canvas. There were scraps of wood here and there. Colin could see smoke rising from a central location, but couldn't see the fire that was producing it.

He looked up at the branches of the old trees around him. Some of them grew over the settlement. He considered climbing up and dropping in, but quickly rejected the plan. He didn't think he could avoid detection once he was inside, so there wasn't much point to sneaking in.

Colin backed away from the palisade for some distance, then headed towards the guarded opening in the wall. He walked loudly, making no effort to avoid snapping branches. As he expected, two cultists came out to meet him before he arrived at the entrance. They were small and gaunt, with sunken eyes and rags wrapped around their thin bodies. They each held a long knife in one hand.

"Who are you? What do you want?" one of them asked with a dry cough.

"I've come to serve the Rat God," Colin told him.

"Do you think we're stupid?" the other cultist asked. "Why in the fuck would someone as clean and well fed as you want to starve in the filth with us? We're all here because the city chewed us up and spit us out, but you..." He looked Colin up and down.

Colin's head spun as he tried to come up with a new plan on the spot. These men had a point, and he realized he should have thought of it.

"I didn't mean I want to live here. I want to serve the Rat God in another way," Colin said with deliberate slowness.

The cultists looked at each other and then back at Colin.

"And what way would that be?" the one with the cough asked.

"It's a sensitive matter. I can only talk about it with your leader."

The two drew back a few steps to discuss what to do. They were evidently unprepared for this response.

"Highpriest Blacktooth doesn't see visitors. It's not a risk he likes to take," the coughing cultist replied.

Colin raised one eyebrow. "And you expect me to believe you two are in a position to make that decision for him? Do you think I'm stupid?"

They looked nervously at each other again.

"Fine, we'll take you to Greybeard. He's Blacktooth's number two. But you need to leave your sword with us. And don't try anything!"

Colin sighed. He reached to unfasten his sword belt, but stopped when one of the cultists advanced on him with his knife. Colin put his hands in the air and waited for the other cultist to strip off the belt and take it from him.

They led him into the settlement. They took a meandering path through haphazard shelters thrown about in no pattern or order Colin could detect. The cultists Colin saw were filthy and emaciated.

They finally arrived at a tent near the center of the shantytown. It looked to Colin like the kind of tent armies set up to act as a headquarters. It was sun-bleached and dirty, but it was the first thing he had seen that looked like it would provide actual protection from the elements.

The cultist with Colin's sword entered the tent while the other stayed with Colin. A short time later he poked his head back through the tent flap to grunt at the other cultist. This was evidently the sign that Greybeard had agreed to see him, because the cultist pushed Colin into the tent and followed on his heels.

The inside of the tent was mostly empty, but the sparse furniture was clean and the few belongings were tidy. The tent had been divided into sections with sheets hung from ropes, and Colin estimated that the front section where he was represented about a third of the tent. In the middle of the section of tent was a high-backed mahogany chair with tattered upholstery in a cream-colored paisley pattern. On this chair sat the man Colin thought must be Greybeard.

Colin was surprised to find that Greybeard was young. He was as weathered as the other Cultists, so Colin had a hard time estimating exactly how young. What little hair the man had was mostly grey, as was his disheveled beard.

"I heard you have a message for me?" Greybeard said to Colin.

"You heard wrong," Colin told him. Greybeard raised an eyebrow and Colin explained, "I have a message for Highpriest Blacktooth. A warning, actually."

"You're threatening the Highpriest?" Greybeard said, sounding more amused than angry.

"No. I'm bringing him a warning. And he'll want to hear it."

Greybeard squinted at Colin. "So tell me, and I'll tell him."

Colin shook his head. "It concerns a sensitive matter. I can't talk about it in front of just anybody." He indicated the other two cultists with a tilt of his head.

Greybeard stared at Colin while he thought. After a while he stood and took Colin's sword from the cultist who was still holding it. He drew the blade from its scabbard and held it pointed in Colin's general direction, its point touching the dirt floor.

"Leave us," Greybeard said to the cultists. They scampered out of the tent without a word.

Colin looked theatrically over both shoulders and took a step towards Greybeard. "There's a plot," he said in a loud whisper. "A plot to assassinate Carver."

Greybeard took a step back. His face showed concern for the first time since Colin had come into the tent. "What makes you think someone is trying to kill Carver?"

"Because," Colin told him, "they tried to hire me to do it. Who knows who else they've hired. I'm taking a risk telling you."

Greybeard considered this. "So what do you want?" he asked.

"I want to talk to her. I need to find out who's behind this. And we'll need privacy."

Greybeard scratched at his tangled beard while he thought about this. "Fine," he said, "I'll bring her to talk to you, but I'll be in the room. You don't get to see her alone."

Colin shook his head. "It's a sensitive matter. We'll need to speak alone."

In truth, Colin was worried about getting Carver alone because he wanted to show her his penis. He had an enchanted phallus, and in his experience no woman could resist or refuse it. He could convince women to do anything he wanted with the promise that they could have his cock afterwards. He was confident he could convince Carver to leave once she saw it, but he didn't think Greybeard would react kindly when he pulled it out.