Eventually, she realised they were heading up the side of one stream into a valley and the sound was coming from a large waterfall. They rounded a bend in the river and there it was ahead of them, extraordinarily picturesque. The moon hung in three-quarter glory directly over the white falls, trees dipping in all around. To each side of the falls built out of – but also part of – the cliff was a massive sandstone temple. Rue assumed the stones ranged in colour, although at night she could only see shifting shades. It was clearly very old – the dominating motif was one of steep arches rather than spires or onion shapes. It was naturalistic, modelled on leaf shapes, its doorways like open flowers and its columns like tree trunks.

Rue gasped appreciatively. “It’ssh beautiful!”

Her unwitting guide did not turn when she spoke, merely continued marching up the right side of the waterfall. This side of the temple was lit by a large bonfire in the enclosed front courtyard. Around this was a group of shadowy figures. Some crouched, others perched, a few sat in proper formal fashion on top of strangely modern large spheres. The figures jerked and twitched in a frenzied manner, unable to keep still. They all wore a quantity of gold plate which gleamed in the firelight. They were all quite furry.

The newly made mortal man marched through the wide entranceway towards the group, trailing Rue behind him.

The assembly was engaged in some manner of civilised discourse, sipping earthenware cups of spiced tea. It comprised a dozen or so Vanaras, Miss Sekhmet, and Professor Percival Tunstell.

Behind the group and up a level was a beautifully ornate silver birdcage – many times larger than a normal birdcage – in which Miss Sekhmet’s lioness form sat, looking disgruntled but unhurt. Rue wondered if the silver cage kept her from turning back to human shape or if there were some other reason she remained a cat. Piled next to her and around her was more gold. The Vanaras were obviously fond of the stuff.

Percy sat in the centre with silver manacles around his wrists chained to a matching set around his ankles and from there to a ring in the stone floor.

Rue and her escort took up position near Percy in front of the weremonkeys, who all stopped talking and stared at them.

The spheres they sat upon proved to be transport containers, brass-made and slitted open on the sides in wedges like a sporadically eaten orange. Each one held a quantity of dirt and a selection of healthy-looking seedlings, suspended above which was a series of tubes and bulbous bladders that could only be an automated watering system.

Dama’s missing tea!