Page 20 of A Case of Possession
“You’re getting the abridged version,” Crane told him. “Willetts could keep this one going all night, including the interludes with the priestess, and the serving maid, and the priestessandthe serving maid.”
Esther’s eyebrows shot up. “Definitely miss out that part.”
“So, anyway, what it boils down to is, the priestess calls the Red Tide on Mr. Willetts and the maid, right? Only the maid’s seen this coming, cos she’s fallen in love with Mr. Willetts for real by now”—Esther sighed heavily—“and she’s given him a thingy what will save him from it.”
“An amulet belonging to the gold-mask priest chap,” Crane amplified.
“And the Red Tide comes, and what it is is this whole load of giant rats.”
“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.
“Hewhat?”
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.”
