By careful degrees the Vanara came closer. When he was within arm’s reach Rue folded herself over the railing and flailed down, fingers stretching. She caught the whites of his terrified eyes – this man does not want to be mortal – precisely before her hand brushed his cheek. He craned his neck to bite her finger but it was too late. He was now suspended there – a mortal Indian prince netted out of legend, all dark eyes and liquid beauty. Rue was now a weremonkey once more, wearing a very proper English dressing-gown of ice-blue silk with pastel embroidered flowers up the front. Her tail made the back of the robe tilt up in a ridiculous manner. But at least she was covered. She thought that a nice tassel wrapped about her tail tip to match the tassels down the front of the gown would complete the look to the height of absurdity. Or possibly a fez. However, she had no time to attend to tassels.

She now understood why werewolves hated to fly. Her stomach turned into a hive of wasps that had been recently poked with a sick. All her muscles, many of them new and extra big, ached as if fevered. This had nothing to do with shifting shape. She felt queasy and dizzy. She contemplated succumbing to the vital humours in a faint, or having a bout of hysteria. On top of all that discomfort, it was as if she could sense the aetherosphere high above her. This was difficult to articulate, even in her own head, but she felt it in her blood like a thorny stinging blanket draped inside her, between skin and flesh. She had a certain instinctual knowledge that flying up any further and entering that grey nothingness would drive her mad with pain and loss.

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.