The Second Book of Lankhmar

tranthformed, in fact, to ratth!”
    He swallowed hard down his raw, wearied throat. Why the devil had Grig had to have a lisp?
    His suggestion appeared for a moment to stupefy the other members of the Council. Then Siss said, wonderingly, admiringly, enviously, and as if against his will, “I never thought of that.”
    Skwee said, “The temple of the Gods of Lankhmar has long been avoided by man and rat alike, as you well know, Grig. Nevertheless...”
    Lord Null said peevishly, “I am against it. Why meddle with the unknown? The humans of Lankhmar fear and avoid the temple of their city's gods. So should we.”
    The Mouser glared at the black-robed rat through his mask slits. “Are we mithe or ratth?” he demanded. “Or are we even cowardly, thuperthtitiouth men? Where ith your ratly courage, Lord Null? Or thovereign, thkeptical, ratly reathon? My thratagem will cow the humanth and prove forever the thuperior bravery of ratth! Thkwee! Thith! Ith it not tho?”
    The matter was put to a vote. Lord Null voted nay, Siss and the Mouser and—after a pause—Skwee voted aye, the other nine bobbed, and so Operation Black Toga, as Skwee christened it, was hastily added to the battle plans.
    “We have over four hours in which to organize it,” Skwee reminded his nervous colleagues.
    The Mouser grinned behind his mask. He had a feeling that the Gods of Lankhmar, if ever roused, would side with the city's human inhabitants. Or would they?—he wondered belatedly.
    In any case, his business and desire now was to get out of the Council Chamber as soon as possible. A stratagem instantly suggested itself to him. He waved to a page.
    “Thummon a litter,” he commanded. “Thith deliberathion hath tired me. I feel faint and am troubled by leg cramp. I will go for a thhort while to my home and wife to retht me.”
    Skwee looked around at him. “Wife?” the white rat asked incredulously.
    Instantly the Mouser answered, “Ith it any buthineth of yourth if it ith my whim to call my mithtreth my wife?”
    Skwee still eyed him for a bit, then shrugged.
    The litter arrived almost immediately, borne by two very brawny, half-naked rats. The Mouser rolled into it gratefully, laying his ivory staff beside him, commanded “To my home!” and waved a gentle good-bye to Skwee and Lord Null as he was carried joggingly off. He felt himself at the moment to be the most brilliant mind in the whole universe and thoroughly deserving of a rest, even in a rat burrow. He reminded himself he had at least four hours to go before Sheelba's spell wore off and he became once more human size. He'd done his best for Lankhmar, now he must think of himself. He lazily wondered what the comforts of a rat home would be like. He must sample them before escaping above ground. It really had been a damnably tiring council session after all that had gone before.
    Skwee tuned to Lord Null as the litter disappeared by stages beyond the pillars and said through his be-diamonded white mask, “So Grig has a mistress, the old misogynist! Perhaps it's she who has quickened his mind to such new brilliancies as Operation Black Toga.”
    “I still don't like that one, though you outvoted me and I must go along,” chittered the other irritably from behind his black vizard. “There's too much uncertainty tonight. The final battle about to be joined. A magically transformed human spy reported in Lankhmar Below. The change in Grig's character. That rabid mouse running widdershins a-foam at the jaws, outside the Council Chamber, and which squeaked thrice when you slew him. The uncustomary buzzing of the night-bees in Siss's chambers. And now this new operation adopted on the spur of the moment—”
    Skwee clapped Lord Null on the shoulder in friendly fashion. “You're distraught tonight, comrade, and see omens in every night-bug,” he said. “Grig at all events had one most sound notion. We all could do with a little rest and refreshment. Especially you before your all-important mission. Come.”
    And turning the table over to Siss, he and Lord Null went to a curtained alcove just off the Council Chamber, Skwee ordering on the way that food and drink be brought them.
    When the curtains were closed behind them, Skwee seated himself in one of the two chairs beside the small table there and took off his mask. In the pulsing violet light of the three silver-caged glow-wasps illuminating the alcove, his long, white-furred, blue-eyed snout looked remarkably