“Dozens and hundreds of rats, in a furry, flowing, stinking, snarling tide.” Crane remembered this part vividly. “They flow over the maid and the golden-mask chap and strip them to the bone with tooth and claw. They knock Willetts down too, but he’s unharmed because of the amulet. He really went to town on what it felt like, having these great heavy animals all over him, bare tails lashing him, the smell and the coarse wet belly hair rubbing over his face, and the claws treading and flattening over him. It was very convincing.”
“It was good, yeah,” Merrick agreed. “So eventually the lady finishes up, and the rats move off, and Mr. Willetts ain’t dead but the golden chappy is. And…what happens then?”
“She declares undying love, which he returns, and then he wakes up next to her cold corpse because some other priest has strangled her in her sleep.”
Merrick was shaking his head. “No, that’s not it. What it was, she wanted Mr. Willetts to take the mask and be the new god bloke. And when he says no, she summons the guards, and Mr. Willetts accuses her of blasphemy, and he has it away on his toes while the guards strangle her.”
“How on earth do you get those mixed up?” asked Stephen.
“Oh, the ending changed a few times,” Crane said. “When a chap was telling it in the Traders the other night, she renounced her duties to run away with Willetts, and before she could get on a ship with him the rats came for her, sent by the betrayed god. She always died, though.”
“Funny, now you say that,” said Merrick. “His ladies usually just pined after him, in the stories. They didn’t usually die.”
“Anyway. That’s it, in a very large nutshell.”
“It’s not, perhaps, the most plausible story I’ve ever heard,” said Stephen. “Points of interest, though.”
“By God there are,” said Janossi.
Esther nodded slowly. “How much truth would you say was in this?”
Crane shrugged. “Willetts did travel a lot. And strange things happen more openly in that part of the world. That said, he was an awful liar about some things, especially women. But in general, I’d say he embroidered, rather than making things up of whole cloth.”
“He told the one about the crabman pretty much as it happened,” Merrick offered.
“He what?”
Merrick grinned unsympathetically. “What, you thought he’d keep a story like that quiet? But he was spot on with it, as I recall.”
“That…man can count himself lucky he’s already dead,” said Crane. “And I’ll speak to you later, you turncoat. Anyway. It’s possible that some of the story was accurate, but what and how much is anyone’s guess.”
Esther frowned. “How did she call the Red Tide? How much detail did he go into?”
“That I don’t remember. It would doubtless have been a fair bit, he had an astonishing memory, but I don’t. Merrick?”
Merrick shook his head. “Chanting, was it? Singing?”
“When you say an astonishing memory…” Stephen began.
“Very good indeed. He picked up languages like nobody’s business. Terrific ear.”
“Good enough to remember and repeat a chant?”
“Perhaps.”
Esther nodded. “And what happened to the amulet?”
“No idea.”
“How did the rats leave? Where did they go?”
“I don’t recall anything about that.”
“Or where they came from?”
“Sorry. If Willetts put it in the story, I’ve forgotten.”
Janossi made a disgusted noise. “The one man we need to speak to, and he’s dead. And that’s why he’s dead, of course.”
“Likely, certainly,” said Stephen. “Well, now. Giant rats used as a weapon. A method of calling them. A protective amulet. The man who might know the call or own the amulet stabbed to death down in Poplar last week.”
“Rats springing up through the East End and heading into Limehouse,” Esther continued. “Two dead Chinese practitioners.”
“And a houseful of corpses on Ratcliffe Highway,” Janossi finished grimly. “Chance, or someone trying out a new toy?”
“There’s a thought,” said Esther. “Here’s Saint coming.”
There was a banging at the front door a few seconds later. Merrick let the girl in, and Esther gave her a rapid summary of events. As they spoke, Crane edged over to Stephen and propped himself on the desk.
“Interesting day?”
“As you see. Thank you for this. I thought you’d help but I didn’t expect quite such a contribution.”
“I am forever at your service,” said Crane lightly, and felt Stephen’s eyes flick to him.
“Well, I’m in your debt,” he returned equally lightly. “Please do collect.”
“I shall.” Crane allowed just a hint of promise into his voice. “So you think Willetts’ tale was more than a lot of tommyrot?”
“His murder lends it credibility. Of course it might just be coincidence, but you know how I feel about that.”
“You spurn it as you would a rabid dog.”
Stephen grinned up at him, then looked over at the others. “Alright, everyone, plan of action. We need to find out how the shamans died and if it’s linked to the rats; we need to find out more about Willetts’ death; most crucially, we need to look for evidence of whether the rats are appearing at random or being called. Are there many Sumatrans in London, Lord Crane?”
“Not that I know of. The odd lascar, perhaps, not a big migrant settlement.”