“And whose perturbed spirit is in danger of getting lost?” asked Stephen.
Crane gave him a swift smile. “That’s the thing. You see, ghost poles aren’t usual these days, even in China. I doubt many people around here get the standard funerary rituals, let alone the ancient trappings. But there is one class of person for whom you would be insane not to erect a ghost pole. Even if you wanted their death an absolute secret, even if you were modern and enlightened, even if you barely believed in spirits at all, you would put up a ghost pole for them.”
Esther was frowning slightly. “And they are?”
“Shamans,” said Crane. “Practitioners. The lost souls of shamans make vampire ghosts of appalling evil and depravity. No offence.”
There was a silence.
Janossi spoke first. “Are you pulling our legs?”
“No, he’s not,” Stephen said.
“You think the shamans are dead.” Esther unfolded her arms. “That’s why they wouldn’t let us see them?”
“Li Tang wouldn’t speak their names aloud, no matter how I pushed him, which is suggestive—it would attract the wandering soul’s attention to name them while they’re still unburied. And it is not Li Tang’s, or anyone else’s, place to control access to shamans. Shamans see whoever they want to. They don’t hide away. Everything about the conversation I just had was wrong—unless he was trying to conceal that the men we were discussing were dead.” Crane raised his hands. “I don’t know. This is guesswork. I might be mistaken. But in my view, if that business had been intended simply as a snub, it would have been delivered in a way that left no room for other interpretation. My gut feeling is that you couldn’t see the shamans because they aren’t there to see.”
“How recently would this have happened?” asked Esther.
Crane shrugged. “If the ghost poles are up, they’ll have died within the last three days. That’s all I can say. But, bear in mind, Li Tang wasn’t just trying to bluff me, he was speaking to be heard by the people around him. I suspect he’s under orders to keep it quiet. Are there other Chinese shamans here?”
“Not ones we’ve been permitted to meet. They don’t deign to mix with us, apparently, but it’s hard to say. Rackham was our only point of contact and he”—Stephen clearly changed what he was going to say—“he’s not available for discussion.”
“Here’s Saint,” said Esther.
The girl came sauntering round the corner a moment later, with a cocky little sneer, which evaporated as everyone turned to her simultaneously and Esther demanded, “Well? Flagpoles?”
Saint nodded. “Two of ’em, looking like he said. What’s this about?”
“Well, well, well.” Stephen’s eyes met Crane’s for a second, glowing warm, and flicked away again. “Nicely done, my lord. And what do we suppose they died of?”
“Rats,” said Janossi.
“Or a knife in the ribs,” Crane suggested.
Esther’s dark brows contracted. “Why?”
“It’s why I wonder if you’re looking in the right place. Look, will you all come back to my office? There’s something else that you may need to know, and it might take a little while to explain. And I think we could use Merrick, my man, at this time.”
“My man?” muttered Janossi.
“Be quiet, Joss,” said Esther. “Lord Crane, if Saint identifies the addresses marked by the flagpoles, might we—you—be able to find out from the Chinese about the deaths, if they are practitioners, and what killed them?”
“I can try.”
“Good. Saint, get back up there and find the flagpoles, and then meet us at Lord Crane’s office. Do not even think about trying to act alone. Lead on, your lordship.”
Chapter Seven
The building was empty except for Merrick when they arrived. Crane made brief introductions, and the two of them stood with the three justiciars in Crane’s office, looking at the dead rat Janossi had dumped on the floor.
Merrick poked it thoughtfully with the toe of his boot. “Giant rats. Sumatra business, is this, my lord?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“What’s Sumatra?” asked Janossi.
“A country, sir,” Merrick said politely. “One of the Sunda islands. Go south from Kampuchea, you can’t miss it. Is this to do with Mr. Willetts, my lord?”
“My question exactly.”
“Feel free to explain.” Stephen was sitting on the edge of the desk, legs dangling, and Crane was having a certain amount of trouble not thinking about his daydream of the other evening.