The stones were nondescript, apologetic.

Anansi came to the ground silently a few feet from him, stalkedpast the low grey markers and crouched beside him.

Saul glanced at him, nodded in greeting. He did not offer Anansiany of the old fruit he had scavenged. He knew he would not takeit.

Saul sat and ate. ‘Now was it really a little bird, Nansi?’ heasked mildly. ‘How is Loplop?’

Anansi jerked his head.

‘Him still screaming angry, bwoy. Him mad, too. Them can’tunderstand him, the birds dem. Him have lost a kingdom again, thinkyou take it from him.’ Anansi shrugged. ‘So we no have no birds. Justmy little spiders and the rats, and you and me.’

Saul bit into his bruised apple.

‘And Loplop?’ he asked, and paused. ‘And King Rat? They going tobe there with us? They going to be there when we take him?’

Anansi shrugged again. ‘Loplop is nothing, whether him there ornot. King Rat? You tell me, bwoy. He’s your daddy…’

‘He’ll be there,’ said Saul quietly.

The two sat for a while. Anansi rose presently and walked to therailing in front of them, looked over at the train-line below.

‘I’ve sent the rats to find the Piper,’ said Saul, ‘but they’llfail. They’re probably all sitting stuffing their bellies right now.They’ve probably forgotten what it is I wanted them to do…’ Hesmiled humourlessly. ‘We’re going to face him on his terms.’

Anansi said nothing. Saul knew what he was thinking.

Anansi had to come to the Junglist Terror, because Saul would bethere. Saul was the only chance he had to defeat the Piper, but heknew it was a tiny chance; he knew that he was walking into a trap,that by being there he was doing exactly what the Piper wanted. Buthe had no choice. Because if he were not there, Saul’s chances ofdefeating the Piper were even smaller, and if Saul failed, the Piperwould have them all, the Piper would hunt Anansi down and killhim.

It was paradoxical. Anansi, King Rat, they were animals. Preserveyourself, that was the whole of their law. And that law would compelthem to go to Junglist Terror. To their almost certain death. BecauseSaul had to go, because of his human friends, because Saul wasrefusing to act as an animal.

Saul was going to kill Anansi.

They both knew it. Saul was going to kill Anansi and Loplop andKing Rat, and Saul was going to die, all in an effort to prove thathe was not his rat-father’s son.

Anansi looked back at Saul and shook his head slightly.

Saul returned his gaze.

‘Let’s talk about what we’re going to do, Nansi,’ he said. ‘Let’smake a few plans… let’s not let everything go this fucker’sway.’

They had spiders, they had rats… they had Saul.

The Piper would have to make a choice. One of the armies would bedefeated as soon as they all entered the fray, but the Piper had tomake a choice. Anansi and his troops had half a chance of remainingfree from the Piper’s thrall. And so did the rats.

A handful of rats still scoured London for… something…

They could not remember exactly what.

These were the pride of the nation. These were the bravest, thefattest and strongest and sleekest, the leaders of the pack.

As smooth as seals through the water they roamed.

One raced like a chubby bullet along the Albert Embankment.

It had come up from the kitchens of St Thomas’s Hospital, next toWaterloo, there on the South Bank of the river. It had snatched foodto fortify itself, had searched the attic spaces and cellars. It hadrun like a ghost through the hospital, leaving its footprints inthick dust, dirtying obscure and forgotten diagnostic machinery.

It had passed through others territories, but it was a great biganimal, and it was on royal business. They did not challenge it.

It had found nothing. It made its way out of the building.

In the open space it scampered along the bank of the river towardsthe medical school.

The Thames glinted balefully beside it, oozing fatly through thecity. On the opposite bank stood Westminster Palace, London’sabsurdly crenellated seat of power. Its many lights flickered on theriver’s skin.

The rat stopped.

Lambeth Bridge loomed up over the water before it, darkening themuck of the Thames.

An indistinct shape bobbed sullenly in the water beside it. Anancient barge, one of the various hulks that littered the river,untended and ignored. It heaved gently to and fro in the current,little waves slapping its greasy boards like petulant children. Thecorpse of a boat, its black wood leprous and decaying, a vasttarpaulin slung across it like a shroud.

The rat moved forward nervously, stopped, uncertain.

It strained its ears. It could hear something, faint and sinister.Sounds emanating from under the heavy waterproof cloth.

The barge rocked back and forth. The water was digesting it. Butin the meantime, before the wood splintered and dissolved into theThames, someone was on the vessel, desecrating it, interrupting itslong death.

Two old ropes still tethered it to the bank. One dipped in anelegant curve below the surface of the water, but the other wasnearly taut. Tentative, the rat stepped onto the mooring. Like atightrope walker it scurried over the water.

It slowed as it approached the boat. Foreboding flooded its tinybrain, and it would have turned to run if it could, but the rope wastoo narrow. The rat was stuck with its choice, its impetuouscourage.

The rope was strung like a necklace, with huge lumpy beadsdesigned to impede a rat’s progress. But unable to turn back, anddreading the water, the rat was tenacious. It hauled itself over theimpediments until only a few feet of rope remained.

Stealthy now, silent, the rat continued. The sound from the bargewas clearer now, a low repeated thump, a thin, plaintive wailing, thecreaking of wood under moving bodies. With the lightest of touchesthe rat set foot on the barge.

It crept around to the side, seeking a gap in the tarpaulin. Itcould feel vibrations in the wood that were nothing to do with thewater.

Slinking below the boat’s lip, the rat found a place where thematerial was rucked up, where it could creep through tunnels leftbetween folds in the heavy canvas.

It made its way through this maze until it could hear softmurmurings. It could feel the tarpaulin opening up around it.

With a nose twitching maniacally, the rat crept forward, peeredfurtively up into the barge.

There was an incredible stink. A mixture of decay, food, bodiesand old, old tar. The tarpaulin was stretched out on a frame to makethe barge a floating tent. The rat could see by the weak light of atorch suspended from the frame. It pointed directly down and itsambient light was poor, so everything in the room was glimpsed,half-seen, noticed briefly as the motion of the boat swung the torchone way, then lost as its oscillations took it away again.

A low, very quiet bass thump pervaded the tiny space.

In one corner a man lay on the floor. He looked feverish, movedhis arms and legs as if he were dancing, his face thrashing uneasilyfrom side to side.

A woman stood nearby, facing away from him. Her eyes were closed.She nodded her head and moved her hands in abstract, exact patternsin front of her, her fingers flying, tracing intricate motions.

Their clothes were dirty. Their faces were thin.

The rat stared at them briefly. Saul’s descriptions were muddledin its mind, but it knew that these two were important, it knew thatit had to tell Saul what it had found. It turned to run.

A foot slammed down on its escape route, closing off the waythrough the cloth.

The rat bolted in terror.

It ran around and around the room, everything a dark blur, betweenthe legs of the standing woman, under the arms of the lying man,scratching madly at the cloth all around in a frenzy of fear.