The Brotherhood of The Black Rats

5.44 Old Feuds

Thompkins stood alone in the storage room with only the faint sounds of squeaking rats to keep him company after the others had left. He rummaged through the array of auction items. 

There were a number of other rare paintings. None save the Langsly seemed to be from Spiderâs dwelling, yet each one was unique in its own way. 

He pulled the sheet off and exquisite portrait of subterranean Venice. Submerged foundations bore ancient carvings never seen by the Mundane. Fish swam in and out of view around them as though it were a natural made coral reef and not the watery underbelly of a man made metropolis that had once been home to one of the greatest wizarding schools in history. 

Another find brought him face to face with an elderly dragon slumbering peacefully in a far off cave. The late nineteen seventies had seen a rise in not-so-still-life paintings of many mythical creatures back when journeying between the realms was easier and less of a hassle. One painter in particular had won acclaim for herself and her work after venturing into uncharted territory and painting several sleeping dragons. Her work was considered quite rare, and for all his years as an art lover this was the first time Thompkins had ever seen one of the paintings up close. 

A third, marked a scene just outside of Pairs along the French Rivera. A shooting star passed along the night sky behind the iconic Eiffel tower in the distance. It was a tranquil piece Thompkins nearly fell into were it not for the sounds of the rats at his feet. 

The Pair of them had come out of hiding. A sign that the confusion spell had worn off and that they were no doubt well aware that they should not be rats. Thompkins scooped the first one into his hands and spoke to it. 

âI want you to know thereâs no hard feelings,â he said holding it up to the painting. âYou have your job to do and I have mine, were the situation different weâd probably all be enjoying a good drink somewhere.â  

Very gently he carried the first up to the canvas where it fell into the painting and on to the distant riverbank. 

âSame goes for you,â he said picking up the second rat as it squeaked. âDonât worry itâs only temporary, youâll be back to your old selves again in a few hours, just stay out of trouble and you should be fine.â 

He watched them both scurry along the river now a part of the painting with Paris towering in the distance behind them. Again the shooting star cut across the sky.         

Thompkins then turned his attention toward the wall of bookcases that cut across the center of the room.  They were packed with old and rare spell books the members of The Belvedere Court would no doubt be paying handsomely for. His thoughts turned to Gabriel and brought out his cards in an attempt to contact the magician. 

He found the King of Hearts easy enough, but when he attempted to reach his partner he was met with only a wall of fuzzy noise in his ears followed by the searing pain of the connection terminating. If Reinhardt wasnât on his way already, he would be now.

The books varied as much in age as they did in subject matter. Thompkins pursued them while he waited. Scrolls bearing the fading hieroglyphs of Alexandria sat next to old medieval illuminated texts and even a few leather bound turn of the century tomes could be made out from the collection. 

There were books on pyromancy, elfish mythology, ancient clockwork mechanisms and even a few rarer subjects like Shadow Alchemy and Necromancy. He scanned each dusty shelf with the same eagerness Simon and Gabriel would examined the offerings at a new bar or Mana lounge.  Thompkins spotted a half-torn copy of a book he had not seen in sometime entitled Travels with The Trolls and could not help but smile to himself. It was the kind of smile that came with being reunited with an old friend, the friend in this case being a long out of print book he had so desperately been searching for only to come up short so many times in the past.