The Warlock In London

The new mystery!

...........And so, I was left alone with this singularly queer man from the east and his weird tale balancing itself for reality in my head when he interrupted my chain of thoughts, "We are Shaivyas, a Hindu sect. We have a slightly different interpretation of the scriptures', Das explained.

          'Quite, I have some knowledge of your sect, but I still can't see how some lumbering creature terrorising people in the night has anything to do with you', I responded.

         'Hmm, I suggest that you start at the temple. One of the elders can tell you more about the Rakshasa', said Das.

            I agreed readily and rushed in to my officie, if it can be called so, and shoved my knuckledusters into my pocket. It had become a habit of mine to carry a first grade weapon with me whenever I travel to anywhere except my home, for the times were rough and the streets, bullying.

            We called a hansom and soon were progressing through the thronging streets of London, while Das was explaining that the temple was virtually under siege from the vigilantes and the efforts of the posted policemen were directed into dissuading the violent mob.

            It was a typical London day, the air was thick with swirling smog and foul smells were rising from the sewers. Link lane was an area where many immigrants had settled. It was a cosmopolitian part of the city, but riddled with disease, crime and poverty.

            The cab pulled up just short of the temple and from the windows, I could see that there were people demonstrating outside. There was much pushing and shoving but the three policemen seemed to have the situation under control.

             Das led me through a crowd of onlookers and as i reached the door, a sudden yell caught my attention and I moved just in time as a brick came smashing hard on the wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the man who threw the brick, but it was not worth tackling as the uncontrollable mob was like a herd of rampaging elephants at that point.

              Leaving the yelling and jeering mob outside, I followed Das into the temple. I could easily see that the building had been under attack. Nearly all of the windows were smashed and there was debris on the ground, despite the diligence of an old woman who was buisily sweeping the floor.

               'I will take you straight to see the elder, but I warn you, he has a very broken accent', Das told me. I shrugged, showing that it was okay.

                  A small, shrivelled man, with white hair and glasses perched on the end of his nose, was sitting quietly on a chair in the corner of the temple. His ancient, lined face betrayed not fear but deep concern.

             'Elder, will you please kindly explain the legend of the Rakshasa to this young man here?' addressed Das with grave respect.

              The elder tilted his head and suddenly started out, 'What brings.... the... job for you.... here?', the grim expression of his face and the grotesque pointing at the wall was something I couldn't help but praise. I guessed that he meant what job brought me there.

             'Well, there is a Rakshasa which is notoriously kidnapping people and I thought that I would be graced with some information here', I put in as clearly as i could and using a bit pompous choice of words at my advantage.

              The elder called Das and they discussed something grave and important in a voice that of whisper. Soon Das returned with a depressed face, 'He says that you are not worthy of help and that you disregard his words when he asked you to take a jog at the next room and bring a book.'