Percy made a sputtering noise about not being ready for a trip, until Virgil appeared at his elbow with a warm jacket, a belt from which dangled various tools in pouches, and a satchel full of books and scrolls. Percy said, “Is the ancient Hindustani language derivation text there?” Virgil nodded. “And the Epic of Ramayana?” Another nod. “And my maps?” More nodding. “Well,” said Percy, in surprise, “perhaps you are good for something.”

Virgil said, “Don’t stay out too late – Footnote will worry.”

Rue gestured for Miss Sekhmet to accompany her belowdecks to her private quarters, Prim alongside, for the sake of appearances. The aforementioned Footnote encountered them in the hallway, got one whiff of the werelioness and puffed his tail hugely, sidestepped on his toes, and took off back to the library. Miss Sekhmet gave a funny hiss-like laugh.

In her room, Rue slipped behind the changing screen and switched her gown for a loose robe and nothing else. She emerged and turned to the werecat.

Miss Sekhmet looked impassive, but Rue suspected the werecat was nervous.

“Very well, then.” Rue looked at Prim. “Ready?”

Prim nodded.

“Miss Sekhmet?”

The werecat nodded. And before she could think to change her mind, Rue stepped in and touched her bare hand.

It was as painful as ever. In that matter, werelioness was no different from werewolf. Rue felt herself morphing, falling, and shifting all at once.

Her bones re-formed into those of a fleet four-footed creature. Her hair became fur all over her body. Her spine stretched out into a long tail. Her fingernails became claws. Her nose expanded and moistened. Her teeth elongated. Her sense of the world shifted. Colours faded and became less important.

All that was similar to a werewolf, but other things were different. Sounds were clearer and more minute. The balance of her muscles was altered. This form was made to climb and to leap. Her long tail could balance back, her claws could flex and extend.

Rue sniffed. The sense of smell was good – perhaps not quite so good as wolf but still infinitely superior to human. There was Prim, all flowery powders and soaps, and a faint sheen of sweat she would be mortified that Rue knew about. Miss Sekhmet, still standing close, smelled of exotic spices and dry grasslands. There was the hint of kipper still on her breath, mixed with remnants of milky tea.

Miss Sekhmet said, “Amazing. Truly amazing. You lift cat away from me so easily. And I have carried her with me for so very long.”

Prim said sympathetically, “Do you feel abandoned?”

“By my own immortality? No more than when a preternatural touches me. And before you ask – yes, I have met a soulless. But it is remarkable not to have to remain touching. How long is the tether?”