The brigadier looked as if he would like to object but as Percy translated what Rue had said, the Vanara Alpha perked up.
“Nothing to do with Rakshasas or their alliance?”
Rue thought fast, calculating what she knew of the Shadow Council. How would her mother react? Dama, she suspected, would want peace. As potentate he tended to favour the most civilised non-violent road if possible. But he’d want his tea back. The werewolves and the Vanaras were getting along well enough that the Kingair Pack would return a favourable report to the dewan. So she could probably count on his vote. Her mother? Well, her mother could be persuaded eventually. So Rue felt safe in offering an alliance with the Shadow Council, as if it were an independent entity. The Vanaras need not be told of their intimacy with Queen Victoria. She wondered if the brigadier even knew of the existence of the Shadow Council. She would have to speak with circumspection around him. Nevertheless, it seemed the most promising course of action.
“My father,” she said, “has some business interests here in your land.” She purposefully did not mention which father. Better if the brigadier thought she spoke of Lord Maccon, otherwise he might let slip the fact that her adopted father was a vampire. The Vanaras wouldn’t like that at all.
Everyone looked perfectly blank at this seemingly unrelated statement.
“He, like you” – Rue acknowledged the Vanara Alpha with a nod – “ish a great fan of tea. Thish new breed” – she gestured at the spheres all around them – “will grow well in this climate, in the fields next to Tungareshwar Forest. If we were to offer the Vanaras a trade agreement, perhaps governorship and control of these new tea plantations? As part of an alliance?” Dama is not going to like this.
The brigadier looked upset. Rue turned to him and said under her breath, “Bloody John has its alliance with the Rakshasas. It’s time to balance the books.”
It was not an outright admission that she was going against the East India Company, but it was implied. If the brigadier was anything like most military men, he opposed the Company’s military influence. Rue listened to Paw’s pack gossip and more often than not they objected to the might of Bloody John. It was politically challenging because of vampire involvement in the Company, but Rue had guessed right, for the brigadier’s militant expression relaxed.
He huffed, more thoughtful than combative. “Are you saying this agreement would circumvent the East India Company?”
“Yes, exactly. And the Rakshasas.” She nodded at the Vanara prince.
Both men looked interested. Rue was pretty certain she’d get an earful from Dama about bargaining away his private tea investment for an alliance with local weremonkeys, but he was a reasonable man and if all else failed, she could use her daughterly wiles.
Percy said for the Alpha Vanara, “Tell me more?”
Then Percy said for Percy, “Oh, I say!”
The floatillah was upon them.
Cannons deployed out of the base of the airships, trained on The Spotted Custard.
Rue’s entire crew held its breath and stared at the brigadier. No doubt all of his subordinates in the floatillah had binoculars trained on him. The only reason they had not been instantly attacked was the fact that the brigadier was sitting unharmed in the company of a British lady, taking tea. It wasn’t exactly a hostile situation – Vanaras or not.
Beads of sweat appeared on the brigadier’s brow. If he signalled his ships to fire, indicating that he was a hostage, then he risked his own demise, as well as the end of any possible treaty.
Primrose reached one trembling white hand forward. “Please, good sir, call off the floatillah. For my sake?”
He looked to the pretty young aristocrat and said nothing.
“For all our sakes?” Prim pressed her luck, batting eyelashes.
Rue wondered if Prim would risk mentioning Aunt Ivy given that there seemed to be history between them. That proved unnecessary, for mere moments later, a lioness leapt aboard the ship, carrying Mrs Featherstonehaugh atop her back.
Mrs Featherstonehaugh was less excited to ride a leaping lioness than Spoo had been. She dismounted looking as fragile as fine china. She’d lost her cane and had to limp to her husband and the tea table, one of which – the husband – rose at her arrival.
“My dear!” He rushed to her. “The major let you go? I’ll cashier the blighter.”
Mrs Featherstonehaugh looked at the werecat. “The major had no choice, Jammykins. The lioness was most insistent.”
The cat in question disappeared belowdecks, no doubt to borrow another robe. If Miss Sekhmet would keep shifting form on board, Rue supposed they should stock a selection of those colourful drapes she preferred and assign her a wardrobe.
The brigadier looked at Rue. “Is that your cat?”
Rue considered, then used the escape she had given Sekhmet at the beginning of their acquaintance. “You know cats. They don’t really belong to anyone.”
Primrose said, still sitting demurely at the table, “Mrs Featherstonehaugh? Do join us for tea.”
Such a smart girl, Prim, for in that simple request, she had ensured everyone’s wellbeing. Mrs Featherstonehaugh couldn’t refuse tea and still be thought anything like a respectable lady. And the brigadier wasn’t going to let his floatillah attack a ship with his wife on board. He may risk his own life, but he wasn’t going to risk hers. Not again.
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.”