Abram Mathers - The Slums
A dirty gray-haired old man sat on the curb of a busy street with a treasure in his hand. It was worth more than all of Auroris' nobles combined. More beautiful than the rarest gem, more colorful than the Sun Level's finest gardens. It was one of the man's finest possessions.
It was a rock.
Only it wasn't just any rock. No, this was Abram Mathers' rock. He found it, no one else. It was the fifth one he had come across, but by far was the most beautiful, almost as beautiful as
the rock, but not quite. It was so round, so smooth, so gray. And the smell! He brought the fist sized stone close to his nostrils and inhaled deeply; savoring its earthy and slightly metallic aroma. Then he tasted it. He slowly passed his tongue over every inch of the rock, then paused to swish the flavor around in his mouth and smack a couple of times.
It tasted like dirt.
Yes, dirt, shoes, and perhaps a hint of something else. But what was it? He licked the rock again; this time concentrating harder on the flavor.
Ah! Yes, his first instinct was correct. It was horse manure, definitely horse manure.
Abram grinned, very pleased with his conclusion. The ragged old beggar continued to examine the rock for a few more moments before carefully putting it in the pocket of his tattered pants. He reached for the tin beer mug at his side and rattled its contents. The sound of jingling coins caught the attention of a passerby who dug into his pockets and dropped a few coppers into the tin before hurrying on.
"Thank you! Thank you, sir! The gods bless you!" The beggar called after the man. The man, of course, ignored him. Everyone knew not to talk to Abram. He was thought to be not quite right in the head, and a bit of a religious nut. But Abram didn't mind. As long as he got enough coppers to buy his bread and the occasional rock to taste, he was happy. He continued to rattle his mug and hum softly to himself; patting the pocket that held his latest treasure.
