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.