Prudence (Page 88)

She swallowed down all of it – her monkey face must look quite green – and put a supporting hand on the railing to steady herself.

“Right, decklingsss, pull him all the way in,” said Rue in her low slurring voice, surprised it wasn’t shaking with strain.

The decklings, with admirable lack of upset at their captain suddenly having a monkey’s face, obeyed her order.

Despite feeling ill, Rue stayed to act as muscle. She had supernatural strength and speed, so she was needed to keep their newest guest under control should he decide to fight. Primrose would not be as effective with this warrior, potent weapon of etiquette though she may be.

The mortal Vanara Alpha was docile under the ministrations of the decklings as they stripped him of his silver mesh. He stood tall and calm until he was entirely free. Once liberated, he made no move to try to fight or escape.

Rue nodded at him and made a gesture towards the poop deck indicating he should follow her. Percy couldn’t leave his post to translate so the Vanara must be taken to Percy. His bearing proud, the Alpha followed Rue with an air of one who was granting a favour.

They arrived at the tea trolley, where the brigadier and Prim were nibbling cucumber sandwiches. Percy was guiding the ship almost casually, biscuit in one hand, helm in the other.

Rue said, voice tired, “Pershy, how low can we shafely go?”

Percy looked at her. “Rue, you feeling quite the thing?”

“No, this floating as a supernatural is no lark. I feel like curdled milk. Can you safely take us down and still evade the floatillah?” Rue covered her mouth on an ugly burp.

Percy gave her a worried look and said, “If we go down much more, we’ll lose this favourable breeze. But if we have to, I will.”

Rue thought about it. They were not yet far enough out to risk loosing the advantage simply for her personal comfort. The floatillah, once it realised what had happened, could still chase them down before dawn. “No. We need speed. I’ll hold on a bit longer. Any sign of a likely clearing?”

“Yes, ten minutes to the north. See – there?”

Rue saw. “Very good. I can make it.”

Percy took her word for it and returned to his duties.

Rue sagged into one of the deck-chairs.

Gingerly, the Vanara did the same.

The brigadier stared at them.

After a pause, Prim poured them both tea.

“Milk?” she asked the Vanara.

He ignored her.

“Sugar? One lump or two?”

“Give him two,” Rue suggested. From her experience with the spicy native version, the locals took their tea sweet.

While Rue battled nausea and weakness to stay at least seated upright, Prim engaged the brigadier in conversation. The Vanara Alpha calmly sipped his tea with an expression of mild shock. No doubt he was as confused by this situation as everyone else. Or perhaps he was merely as surprised by the taste of British tea as Rue had been by the local spiced variety.

Nine and a half minutes later, Percy brought them in and down to hover below treetop height over a bare patch of land. They remained high enough so that neither visitor could jump to the ground without injury. Nor were the Vanaras and werewolves – who soon collected in the clearing to wait expectantly – able to leap up.

Fortunately they were low enough so that Rue’s stomach settled and the oppressive blanket feeling of the aetherosphere no longer troubled her with its spiky presence. In fact, she felt perfectly normal, or as perfectly normal as a girl can when in monkey shape. Percy left navigation to Virgil and Spoo, and joined them at tea to act as translator.

Rue found herself delighted with the civilised nature of it all. She guessed that she had about fifteen minutes before the floatillah arrived and opened fire. Could one broker an end to hostilities, rectify a missed opportunity for peace, and facilitate the introduction of a new species in fifteen minutes?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

IN WHICH TEA SOLVES EVERYTHING

Negotiations, Rue soon came to understand, required a great deal longer than fifteen minutes and were better suited to a personality not hers. Not to mention someone who had mastery of monkey voice and face – she would keep slurring her words. The Vanara Alpha and the brigadier refused to see reason. They didn’t seem likely to come to an agreement before dawn, let alone before her beloved ship was attacked by her own country.

Percy had them almost to the ground and tucked away, partly hidden by overhanging trees. But as soon as the floatillah was close enough they would be easy to spot. The great red, dotted balloon of the Custard poked up too high, slightly out of the trees in such a way as to look like a massive embarrassed mushroom.

Around them in the clearing below, the monkeys and wolves cavorted together.

Lady Kingair had changed shape after Spoo helpfully tossed down one of Rue’s spare dressing-gowns. Occasionally, that good lady would shout something autocratic up at them. She wanted to know exactly what in all atmospheres was going on! Prim would lean over the railing and yell down as much of an explanation as she could.

Rue kept up with negotiations. Uncle Lyall sat in the background, amused by the entire situation.

The pack and the Vanaras settled into a game, something along the lines of chase my tail, chase your tail, flip over, and wrestle. Between these two species, at least, accord had been found. They remained determinedly oblivious to the fact that the floatillah was coming and that the werewolves may be cashiered and the Vanaras imprisoned. Rue supposed for the werewolves it was a little like finding a lost pack, knowing they were not alone in the world, that there were other types of shape-shifters. The Vanaras seemed happy to be out in the open at last, to reveal themselves to their wolf cousins.

Where is Miss Sekhmet? Rue wondered. The werelioness would be most useful in these negotiations.

Rue said to the Vanara for what she felt was the millionth time, “Jussssh sign the Supernatural Acceptance Decree and I’m certain our queen will see reason. The brigadier here would be bound by the termsss, yesh?”

Brigadier Featherstonehaugh huffed into his tiny excuse of a beard. “Well, I don’t see that it’s obvious these creatures are the same as werewolves, in which case…”

“Except that I can pershonally assure you they are immortal supernatural shape-shifters.” Rue waved her monkey tail at him in annoyance. “Ish no difference.”

Percy translated for the Vanara prince, who said, “We are not interested in your queen and her agreements.”

Rue tried to frown. It was challenging with a monkey face. “What if I offered you a treaty with a separate branch of the British government?”