“Percy!” Rue was not in a temper to play flighty word games with her resident academic. Nor was she a particular fan of the Socratic method. It impinged upon efficiency. “Just tell me.”
Percy sniffed. “Very well. I believe we may be dealing with Vanaras, not local dissidents. Or, more precisely, the Vanaras may be local dissidents.”
Rue had never heard the word before but she wasn’t going to dignify him with continued questions. She crossed her arms and glared.
Percy, in classic Percy fashion, remained oblivious to her frustration. He said nothing further, apparently feeling that this one statement was sufficient to explain everything that had happened to them since they landed in Bombay.
Rue finally crumbled. “Percy, what do you mean by Vanaras? Is it a different tribe? A thing? A population category? Please, O brilliant one, illuminate me.”
Percy relaxed, enjoying his superior knowledge. “Actually, this book held the key. She had the pages marked. It was almost too easy.”
“Please, Percy, enlighten me with your genius.”
“Since you ask so nicely. Vanaras – to wit, mythological creatures featured in Hindu legends, most specifically the Epic of Ramayana which your Mrs Festtenhoop was reading.” He tapped a passage in the book Rue had so recently retrieved. “They are extolled as brave and inquisitive, amusing and mildly irritating, honourable and kind, and so forth. They are reputed to have, at various points in the distant past, assisted local kings and generals in resisting Rakshasa domination.”
“You think these legendary creatures might have intersections with reality?”
“Well, the first British explorers determined them mere legend, flights of local fancy. Since then, British forces in India have never encountered evidence of Vanara existence. But what if they were real? After all, the Rakshasas are real, although perhaps not exactly as depicted in the myths. What if Vanaras simply didn’t want to be found? India is a very big country.”
Rue nodded. “Go on. What other evidence do you propose to support their tangibility? After all, there are myths about Ganesha but I don’t hold that we will see a giant elephant-headed man with multiple arms marching over the horizon any time soon.”
“I am afraid I must appeal to Mr Darwin on this. We have now seen evidence with our own eyes that Indian Rakshasas differ from European vampires. Vanaras are reputed to be shape-shifters.”
“Are you saying these Vanaras are what amounts to India’s version of werewolves?” Rue couldn’t help but be deeply enthralled by the idea.
“Why ever not? Different kind of vampires, ergo different kind of werewolves. If we have supernatural men who change into beasts, what is to stop other countries from having their own version thereof? It would be terribly conceited of us to believe Europe unique in this matter. Only…”
“Only what?”
“I don’t think they are wolves exactly.”
“Oh, no?”
“If my translation is correct, of which I am certain, of course, for I am never wrong in the matter of foreign tongues, then the best wording would be, well…”
He trailed off, acutely embarrassed. Wherever else this new theory was taking him, it was into questionable territory. It must be very questionable indeed to unnerve the man who once publicly hypothesised that bacon could be blamed for the explosion of Mount Vesuvius.
“Go on, Percy. Out with it,” urged Rue.
“I suppose the best way of putting it would be… weremonkeys.”
Rue couldn’t help it – she snorted a surprised laugh. It seemed so very undignified. “Men who change into monkeys?”
Percy nodded. “Very, very large monkeys.”
“Goodness, it hardly seems worth the effort. There is not so much difference, is there?”
Percy shrugged. “I suppose monkeys are stronger, faster, and can climb with greater dexterity.”
Rue cocked her head. “Climbing could be useful. So where in India might we find these Vanaras, should they exist?”
“All the various epics describe them as forest-dwelling. So, unless all my suppositions are entirely misguided––”
“Never that.”
“Exactly, highly unlikely. Your Mrs Fetherpottoot––”
“Featherstonehaugh.”
“Will be in a forest. I suspect there’s one nearby.”
“You don’t know?”
“I can’t do everything for you,” protested Percy, forgetting who’d procured him the book in the first place.
It was as good a theory as any and at least it indicated a course of action. This was a great relief to a girl of Rue’s particular character. She could now start planning. “Percy?”
“Yes, Rue?”
“Please go and find out the location of the nearest forest.”
“But, Rue, I haven’t even finished this book.”
That’s Percy for you. “Well, if you can’t help, I suppose I could ask Quesnel to check his areal…”
“You think I can’t figure it out? I have maps.”
“Of course you do, Percy.”
Rue suddenly thought of something and went to rummage about in her peach dress from that morning’s tour of Bombay.
Absentmindedly she said, “Thank you, Percy dear, you’ve been extraordinarily useful.”
Percy puffed up with pride. “Yes, well.”
Rue emerged, triumphant. From the interior of her small bag she discovered the stone monkey on the cord she’d found after the flowers exploded.
“Percy, what if Miss Sekhmet was speaking for them?”
“For whom?” Now it was Percy’s turn to be confused.
Rue showed him the little statue. “The Vanaras.”
“She was a very odd sort of woman.”
“Terribly careless of us to let her get captured like that. But why didn’t she just say something? Was that why she kept harping on about my mother? Did she think the Shadow Council knew about the weremonkeys?”
Percy look shocked at the idea. “I highly doubt it. If they do exist – and it’s just a working hypothesis, mind you, Rue – they have taken a great deal of care not to be known by the British government.”
“Which would be why Miss Sekhmet kept being so mysterious. Then what was her negotiation about?”
Percy shrugged. “You can’t depend on me for everything, Rue, especially if it isn’t written down.”
“Of course not, Percy. I do apologise. Still” – Rue tapped Mrs Featherstonehaugh’s copy of the Epic of Ramayana – “exceptional work.”
Percy actually blushed. “It’s all in the books.”