There was a long silence while Prim and Percy pretended not to have heard anything, and Miss Sekhmet tried not to look curious.
Rue took a deep calming breath. “Primrose, you have command while I am away. Technically, I suppose it ought to be Mr Lefoux but since he is proving a tad unstable, I think you had better see to the necessities. I’ll leave you to tell him so later.” Which would also save Rue from having to call down to the boiler room with the transfer of command and get another earful from Aggie Phinkerlington.
Prim said tentatively, “Might I suggest a gunpowder display sparkle? If you took one with you and trouble arises, you could set it off and summon help? Any local militia would surely respond.”
Rue was not above sensible suggestions. “Excellent notion.”
Prim crinkled her forehead. “I’ll find you one of the smaller ones and tie it about your neck in a reticule. Also, I think you should take one of those long scarves I bought this morning in case you have to change shape in the middle of a forest. Or in case something happens to Miss Sekhmet.”
The werecat looked a little nonplussed. “I don’t know exactly where they are in the forest. We have always discussed things through an intermediary. Territory is territory, after all.”
“Then we have to follow Mrs Featherstonehaugh’s trail.”
The lioness asked, “Do your skin-stalker abilities extend beyond the mere stealing of form? Do you possess enhanced tracking skills as well?”
“Naturally,” lied Rue. This may be her only chance to be a lioness. There was no way she was going to suit up in thick clothing and ride Sekhmet into the forest. It had to be the other way around.
The werecat said, “Very well, then, no time like the present. We are only losing darkness.”
Prim scuttled off to the stores and reappeared with a flint and tinder, one of the sparklers, a reticule that looked like a water lily, and a large orange scarf.
Percy made a sputtering noise about not being ready for a trip, until Virgil appeared at his elbow with a warm jacket, a belt from which dangled various tools in pouches, and a satchel full of books and scrolls. Percy said, “Is the ancient Hindustani language derivation text there?” Virgil nodded. “And the Epic of Ramayana?” Another nod. “And my maps?” More nodding. “Well,” said Percy, in surprise, “perhaps you are good for something.”
Virgil said, “Don’t stay out too late – Footnote will worry.”
Rue gestured for Miss Sekhmet to accompany her belowdecks to her private quarters, Prim alongside, for the sake of appearances. The aforementioned Footnote encountered them in the hallway, got one whiff of the werelioness and puffed his tail hugely, sidestepped on his toes, and took off back to the library. Miss Sekhmet gave a funny hiss-like laugh.
In her room, Rue slipped behind the changing screen and switched her gown for a loose robe and nothing else. She emerged and turned to the werecat.
Miss Sekhmet looked impassive, but Rue suspected the werecat was nervous.
“Very well, then.” Rue looked at Prim. “Ready?”
Prim nodded.
“Miss Sekhmet?”
The werecat nodded. And before she could think to change her mind, Rue stepped in and touched her bare hand.
It was as painful as ever. In that matter, werelioness was no different from werewolf. Rue felt herself morphing, falling, and shifting all at once.
Her bones re-formed into those of a fleet four-footed creature. Her hair became fur all over her body. Her spine stretched out into a long tail. Her fingernails became claws. Her nose expanded and moistened. Her teeth elongated. Her sense of the world shifted. Colours faded and became less important.
All that was similar to a werewolf, but other things were different. Sounds were clearer and more minute. The balance of her muscles was altered. This form was made to climb and to leap. Her long tail could balance back, her claws could flex and extend.
Rue sniffed. The sense of smell was good – perhaps not quite so good as wolf but still infinitely superior to human. There was Prim, all flowery powders and soaps, and a faint sheen of sweat she would be mortified that Rue knew about. Miss Sekhmet, still standing close, smelled of exotic spices and dry grasslands. There was the hint of kipper still on her breath, mixed with remnants of milky tea.
Miss Sekhmet said, “Amazing. Truly amazing. You lift cat away from me so easily. And I have carried her with me for so very long.”
Prim said sympathetically, “Do you feel abandoned?”
“By my own immortality? No more than when a preternatural touches me. And before you ask – yes, I have met a soulless. But it is remarkable not to have to remain touching. How long is the tether?”
Prim was always circumspect with other people’s secrets, especially when they were right there listening. She said only, “That is a conversation for you and Rue to have when she can speak again.”
“Indeed, indeed. Forgive my curiosity – a curse I was born to. Believe it or not.”
Prim said, “I fully understand. Now, I assume you have ridden a lioness before?”
Miss Sekhmet nodded. Her face, more expressive in mortal form, looked sad. “A long time ago. But, yes.”
Well done, Primrose, now we know there are more of them. Or once were.
Miss Sekhmet settled herself astride Rue. “Can she communicate?”
Prim nodded.
“Fully?”
“She can understand you. She has possession of all her capacities, unlike a newly changed werewolf. But she no more possesses the ability to articulate with the tongue than you would as a lioness.”
Rue gave a little mew of inquiry and felt Miss Sekhmet twine her hands into the thick fur of her neck, a sign that she was ready. Rue tried to purr her approval, but nothing but a stuttering sputter emerged. Rue gave up and ran through her quarters out into the hall and leapt up the staircase out onto the quarterdeck.
She almost overshot it. Lioness shape was powerful in distinct ways from werewolf.
Percy was waiting for them, looking impatient. Virgil was fussing about his master, ensuring Percy was all buttoned up for the evening ride, that his boots were dusted, and his hat in place.
Rue stopped next to him, tail thrashing.
Percy looked her over doubtfully. It had been a while since he had ridden her as a wolf, and this form was vastly different. Plus, while he had grown bigger, Rue had mostly not.
Rue yowled at him, dictatorially.
Percy legged over and sat, tucking his knees up, presumably wrapping his arms about Miss Sekhmet’s waist.
“I do beg your pardon, miss, having only just met you and all.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, you British and your manners. Just grab on to me, man!”
“Yes, miss,” said Percy meekly.
Rue merped a question at them both.
“All set,” said Percy, his voice a little strangled.
“Ready,” added Miss Sekhmet.
With which Rue dashed over to the shoreside railing of the ship and, in one great leap, cast herself and her passengers over the edge.
It was a spectacular manoeuvre. The decklings behind gave a gratifying communal gasp. It was further down than Rue had thought. Fortunately, it was not too far for her supernatural body to absorb the impact. She landed and stumbled only slightly, righting herself so quickly even Percy didn’t fall off. She suppressed a small surge of disappointment that Quesnel had not bothered even to look out of the engineering port hole to see her away. Shaking off thoughts of the difficult Frenchman, Rue set off through the city.