He waved away the looming ships, all casual, but there was a complex hand signal involved. They moved a little way off. The three ladies – Rue still a monkey – entertained the three gentleman with politics. And the three ladies, as is often the case when women of sense serve tea to men of passion, prevailed.

For the Vanara Alpha, Rue spun a yarn about this new breed of tea and how it might provide economic independence. She bragged of her personal political connections, implying that she could draw up an agreement based on the tenets of SAD that would name the Vanaras as allied not with the queen but with others, one of them a werewolf. Percy faithful translated it all and did not laugh once.

“In fact, I’m sure Percy here could write you up a nice mock treaty while you rest for the day. Would that be acceptable? Of course, I would have to take it back to England for the official seal of approval but I think I can guarantee it will be passed through committee. In the interim, if you, brigadier, would abstain from any further action?”

“Yes, dear,” pressed his wife. “Do abstain, do. It’s very manly to think seriously about a course of action and not go rashly dashing into war.”

“Is it indeed, Snugglebutter?” huffed the husband.

“Why yes, don’t you find, ladies?”

Grave nods all around.

Rue suggested, in a mild tone, “This new treaty, we might consider naming it the Featherstonehaugh Accord.”

The brigadier and his wife looked positivity delighted. The brigadier said, “Well, I am needed in Waziristan. If we could finish up here relatively quickly, I might just forget to file a report on this matter until I return from campaign.”

Sensing a favourable shift, Prim called for celebratory muffins and jam.

Muffins and jam seemed to sooth everyone’s temper, particularly the Alpha Vanara’s whose delight in the jam was that of a child discovering blancmange for the first time. Rue could sympathise. She often felt that way about really good jam, not to mention blancmange. And this was, after all, gooseberry.

The sun was soon to rise, at which point the werewolves would lose their wolf forms and the Vanaras – including Rue – their monkey shape. All but the very strongest supernatural creatures would be driven into shade and sleep, and any chance at further discourse would have to wait until the following night. Rue was prepared to land her ship and invite all on board, offering up sleeping quarters if she had to.

Muffins consumed, jam admired, and bellies full, Primrose said in her most motherly tone, “Well, dears, bedtime?”

Rue rose. “Perhaps, gentlemen, if we all slept on it? Percy, I believe it is time to take us to ground. Then, Spoo, I think it is safe to lower the gangplank. We have guests to accommodate.”