Prudence

by Gail Carriger

  The man bowed his head, repeating those two words “Gauri” and “Lakshmi” over and over and attempting to hum his own version of “Eat Bertha’s Muscles”.

  Rue wished she knew how to say the words “leave me” in Hindustani but, lacking any grasp of the language, she stood completely still with what she hoped was a stern impassive goddess-like expression and pointed to the door.

  She didn’t know what she expected. Perhaps for the man to leave by climbing around the elephant cheek the way she had.

  Instead, he ran to the door, pushed it open and leapt out.

  Rue suppressed an un-goddess-like shriek. She didn’t want to kill the poor man!

  She rushed after him, only to see that he had deployed some kind of parachute, which he must have grabbed from near the door. It looked a lot like a large conical parasol. He floated down to land a good distance away, on the other side of the gorge, in the unnamed forest. Rue heard him shout in elation and then the glad tones of “Eat Bertha’s Muscles” wafted up to her. Presumably he was happy with life and the blessings of his holy visitor.

  Well, thought Rue, at least I made somebody’s evening.

  The sky train Ganesha might look like a creature of Hindu mythology come to awesome mechanical life, but inside the guidance cabin was all classic British engineering. It was actually a rather simple, an old-fashioned steam engine out of the Poedunkle-Boof Manufacturing Company in Bacon End. Rue’s eyebrows arched as she read the plaque – it was a decade or more out of date! It’s been a while since the far reaches of the empire received upgrades. This is nothing compared to Quesnel’s domain back on The Spotted Custard. She stopped that thought before it started. Rue did not want to think about Quesnel. Given the catastrophe that her evening had become, he had not been as far from the truth when he had tried to stop her from starting all this.

  The firebox was cold and dead which was odd as, even overnight, most steamers simply banked their coal. Also, the boiler was half full, hardly enough water for much of a journey. Perhaps there was a watering station on the other side of Tungareshwar?

  Rue was undaunted. All she had to do was get everything up to temperature and the steam going, make certain all her dials, levers, and settings were configured correctly, keep the firebox stoked, and the elephant head would move. Actually, that’s rather a lot. Fortunately, she had flint and tinder with her.

  It took some time to stoke the boiler. The moon had moved a great deal since she started her escapade – the night was near half done. Eventually, she did manage the happy bubbling and steam emission of an operational engine. It was not easy to guide the Ganesha and stoke at the same time. Luckily, the elephant was inclined to stick to the cable although it did rattle a great deal. All steam engines by their nature need at least two people to run efficiently. With only one at the helm and stoking the boiler, the locomotive moved in fits and starts along the cable, an embarrassing stuttering that to any observer would seem as though the elephant god was overcome with occasional malaise. Not to mention that it was merely the head of the creature, with no body following behind.

  If her thievery of the front of the sky train had been noted by the crew sleeping in the freight cars, Rue couldn’t hear them shouting over the clanging of the engine. And if they had tried to jump the coupling, they were unsuccessful, for no one came after her. Some distance along, Rue took a moment to open the door and crane her head back to see, and there was no one following.

  She stoked the boiler and jerked onward. She had no concrete plan except to take the Ganesha on into Tungareshwar’s heart. Hopefully, there she might see or receive some sign.

  Rue developed a pattern of stoking, checking her dials, pumping the guidance lever and glancing out of the two windows. Occasionally, she cracked the door and looked down into the forest, hoping for an inkling of Percy or Miss Sekhmet, not certain what form that inkling might take. After all, she was the only one with the fire sparkler. And if there was a path beneath her, it was overarched by trees.

  After an hour or so of stoking, Rue was beginning to think her arms might never recover from the night’s experience. And I still have to climb back down. She considered stopping next to one of the poles, but her stubborn streak kicked in and she soldiered on.

  Idiotic stubborn streak as it turned out. Because on her next check of the cable ahead Rue realised several things at once.

  First, there was no more cable.

  Second, the upcoming pole was her last and she was moving too quickly towards it.

  Third, the boiler had been cold and the water reserves low because this engine wasn’t meant to go anywhere at all. It was meant to test the stability of the line at each stage of installation.

  Fourth, that was why it was so antiquated. As it was only there to check the cable, they had used cheap old technology.

  Fifth, the man in the cabin to whom she had appeared as a goddess was not an engineer but a guard.

  Sixth, no crew would be chasing her because there was no crew.

  Rue realised all of this even as she grabbed for the break lever, hauling back on it as hard as she could with a strength mere moments before she would have believed impossible. If only she had a second person to cool the boiler, to rake back the coals. Alone, her best option was a mechanical one. She hoped the lever wasn’t too old. Her arms screamed in pain almost as loudly as the brake screamed in reality.

  The Ganesha head slowed. The brake locked down, no longer requiring Rue’s measly strength. The engine shuddered against it. Freed suddenly, Rue dived for the firebox. Grabbing the rake, heedless of her own safety, she pulled the coals out into the slop grate, although part of her knew it would not be sufficient to cool the boiler. A few embers fell to the floor of the cabin, scorching Rue’s bare legs. She hardly noticed.

  The firebox was empty and the brake had managed to slow the elephant head, but not enough. With relentless precision Ganesha crawled towards the last pole, after which the cable dangled down like a limp snake.

  Rue slammed open the door and looked for a second parasol parachute – nothing. At a complete loss of what else to do, she grabbed her sparkler and dipped the fuse into the slop grate, aiming for a still smouldering coal. It lit. She leaned out of the door and threw it as hard as she could up into the air.

  She heard its loud bang and the forest below lit up with a flood of yellow light. Everything was in sharp and sudden relief, the vibrant green of the trees extending endlessly in every direction, every leaf painfully clear. Rue could see the end pole with its builders’ scaffolding, obviously in the middle of construction, coming relentlessly closer.

  And then Rue saw something she wasn’t expecting. The face of an extremely unfriendly-looking monkey pressed upside down to the window of her cabin.

  Rue screamed and backed away from the door, slamming it shut.

  The monkey creature swung over the top of the elephant head with consummate skill, performing a flip that put him on the other side of the door. A door he proceeded to rip off of its hinges and discard casually into the jungle below.

  Well, I call that unnecessary. The door has a perfectly good handle.

  The creature swung through the opening to land gracefully on the floor facing Rue.

  He was much bigger than a monkey should be and stood fully upright like a human, but with more muscles than any human Rue had ever seen – except maybe one strongman at a carnival. He had very long arms and an extremely articulate tail. He was wearing a loincloth of expensive blue silk, a breastplate of beaten gold, and a great deal of jewellery.

  Rue stared at him, open-mouthed. Impressed despite herself. Well, golly. I guess Vanaras do exist.

  Without an attempted introduction or making any noise whatsoever – could he speak in that form? – the creature advanced towards her. His eyes were riveted on the monkey charm necklace.

  He made as if to pick her up.

  Rue held out her hands, warding him off, not because she didn’t want the help – if he wanted t
o rescue her, she had no objection to being rescued – but because she would likely steal his form just as she could steal that of a werewolf or werelioness.

  With a noise of disgust, the Vanara ignored her non-verbal protest as a hysterical female reaction and scooped her up with his tail. Wrapping it tight about Rue’s naked midriff.

  Only to suddenly have no tail at all.

  The man who now stood before Rue was comely with dark almond eyes, ridiculously thick eyelashes, and velvety tea-coloured skin. He was slighter as a human than he was in his monkey form, muscles having been redistributed into lankiness rather than bulk. As a monkey he was golden with black feet, hands and face, but as a man he was a true child of India, princely in his bearing and appearance. If not in his utter shock at being suddenly mortal.

  Rue tried to look apologetic.

  Only to find that it was very hard to do apologetic wearing a monkey face.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MONKEY HIJINKS

  T

  he transformation was sudden and a great deal less painful than when turning werecat. Rue supposed not as many bones needed to break and shift about when going from human to monkey. Instead, it seemed mostly muscle being redistributed. Her hair turned short and extended to most of her body. It was a mottled dark brown colour, much like her fur in wolf form, only fuzzier. Her arms, previously so sore and tired, recovered and gained additional strength and length. Most peculiar of all was her tail. As a werewolf, Rue’s tail rather took matters into its own hands, as it were, reflecting her moods and waving about indiscriminately. As a werecat, it had seemed only mildly under her command. But as a weremonkey, she had total control over this appendage, like an extra arm with only one finger. It was rather fun.

  Rue had no time to dwell. The Ganesha head was still creeping relentlessly towards the end of the cable, and the embers she had brushed out of the firebox were beginning to find fallen bits of fibre and other combustibles, flaming to life on the floor of the cabin.

  Acting on instinct, Rue did as the Vanara had attempted mere moments before. She grabbed her metanatural victim with her amazing tail and ran to the doorway, carrying him behind her.

  The man cried out in fear.

  Rue stumbled slightly. Her legs did not work quite the same way as in human form. Her large dextrous hands found purchase on the doorframe. She was incredibly strong as a Vanara. It was delightful – like a particularly well-brewed tea.

  The pole top was now in front of her. The Ganesha was definitely going to overshoot it. No time to think, Rue leapt onto it, using her extra-long arms to grab down and stabilise her landing. The man clutched in her tail acted as a counterweight. It was unexpected, that weight, and Rue rocked back and forth, nearly falling. She modified her stance a split-second before they both tumbled over the edge, then held herself down and relaxed into the sensation of a man in her tail. The Vanara stilled in her grasp, sensing the danger in this newly made weremonkey’s shaky understanding of her own agility.

  With a climbing speed unequalled by any other form she’d stolen, Rue made her way down the scaffolding to the ground. There she placed the man carefully on his own two feet and stood before him, feeling guilty. She had tried to warn him. She wondered if she could formulate words with her monkey face and explain herself. Nothing to do but try.

  Her voice came out, slurred and much lower than before, but functioning.

  “Ruehh,” she said, gesturing to herself.

  The man babbled at her in Hindustani.

  Rue shook her head. “Englisssh,” she said slowly, trying to enunciate.

  The man had gone from fear to anger now that he was safe on land. He began yelling and pacing, and pointing at her and then him as if trying to instruct her to give him his shape back.

  Rue shook her head. It doesn’t work like that. I can’t control it. And now I intend to keep it. It’s much warmer and my arms don’t hurt any more. I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to steal from you. She said, “I thhried to warn you not to toucsssh me.”

  The man continued yelling. Then in one furious move, he reached forward and yanked the monkey charm from around Rue’s neck.

  Above them, the head of Ganesha reached the end of the line. At the same time, the fire inside made its way to the oil reserves that lubricated the engine’s gears. It roared into an inferno. A massive elephant head fireball slipped off the cable and fell down into the forest with a tremendous crash.

  The man in front of Rue jumped and whirled. Realising what must have happened, he turned back, yelled at her some more – apparently this was also her fault.

  Rue shrugged at him.

  He finally realised that there was nothing she could do about having stolen his shape. Or he determined she wasn’t giving it back. At least she had not run away. He made a rude gesture and turned, striding into the thick foliage, holding his loincloth up with one hand when it threatened to slide off his now lean hips.

  Rue checked to ensure that her modesty scarf was secured. Her monkey chest was a good deal wider than her lady chest, but her endowments were smaller, so that section had stayed in place. During the course of her climbing adventures the bottom part had loosened, but that meant it fit her now wider, muscled hips. Her legs and arms were covered in the brown fur. Rue wasn’t certain how she felt about that but she supposed it might count as a modesty covering. The society madams would have had something snide to say but Rue strongly suspected that, should she encounter one roaming the Indian jungle, arm hair would not be high up on the list of complaints.

  She shuffled after the indignant man, realising that her legs were bowed like a sailor’s when not climbing. Rue hoped that he would lead her to someone who could interpret English or this was going to be a very long night indeed. She considered ways she might pantomime the meaning of metanatural as a monkey. It seemed nigh on impossible.

  Tungareshwar from within was a great deal different than Tungareshwar from above. The undergrowth was mostly made up of thick plants with large wide leaves and a few bushes which looked like sage. Trees of all sizes stretched upwards – Rue recognised palm and banana – and vines grew over everything. It was delightfully tropical. She was no horticulturalist but she spotted a few orchids – her night vision seemed quite decent in weremonkey from. Occasionally they crossed a small stream, its embankment covered in a thick carpet of maidenhair fern. Rue would have enjoyed a stroll through Tungareshwar during the daylight. It must be stunning, everything verdant and lush, green broken only by the black of tree trunks and bright splashes of exotic flowers.

  Then her ears started roaring. She thought it might be a weremonkey thing and tried surreptitiously shaking her head.

  Eventually, she realised they were heading up the side of one stream into a valley and the sound was coming from a large waterfall. They rounded a bend in the river and there it was ahead of them, extraordinarily picturesque. The moon hung in three-quarter glory directly over the white falls, trees dipping in all around. To each side of the falls built out of – but also part of – the cliff was a massive sandstone temple. Rue assumed the stones ranged in colour, although at night she could only see shifting shades. It was clearly very old – the dominating motif was one of steep arches rather than spires or onion shapes. It was naturalistic, modelled on leaf shapes, its doorways like open flowers and its columns like tree trunks.

  Rue gasped appreciatively. “It’ssh beautiful!”

  Her unwitting guide did not turn when she spoke, merely continued marching up the right side of the waterfall. This side of the temple was lit by a large bonfire in the enclosed front courtyard. Around this was a group of shadowy figures. Some crouched, others perched, a few sat in proper formal fashion on top of strangely modern large spheres. The figures jerked and twitched in a frenzied manner, unable to keep still. They all wore a quantity of gold plate which gleamed in the firelight. They were all quite furry.

  The newly made mortal man marched through the wide entranceway towards the group, tra
iling Rue behind him.

  The assembly was engaged in some manner of civilised discourse, sipping earthenware cups of spiced tea. It comprised a dozen or so Vanaras, Miss Sekhmet, and Professor Percival Tunstell.

  Behind the group and up a level was a beautifully ornate silver birdcage – many times larger than a normal birdcage – in which Miss Sekhmet’s lioness form sat, looking disgruntled but unhurt. Rue wondered if the silver cage kept her from turning back to human shape or if there were some other reason she remained a cat. Piled next to her and around her was more gold. The Vanaras were obviously fond of the stuff.

  Percy sat in the centre with silver manacles around his wrists chained to a matching set around his ankles and from there to a ring in the stone floor.

  Rue and her escort took up position near Percy in front of the weremonkeys, who all stopped talking and stared at them.

  The spheres they sat upon proved to be transport containers, brass-made and slitted open on the sides in wedges like a sporadically eaten orange. Each one held a quantity of dirt and a selection of healthy-looking seedlings, suspended above which was a series of tubes and bulbous bladders that could only be an automated watering system.

  Dama’s missing tea!

  Upon registering that one of their number was apparently involuntarily human, the Vanaras all stood up and began talking at once, in Hindustani of course. Rue’s mortal victim threw the monkey charm at the feet of his fellows in evident disgust.

  At the same time Percy, who could not stand, leaned forward squinting in the firelight and said, “Rue, is that you?”

  “Of coursh ish me. Pershy, what ish going on?”

  Percy blinked at her myopically, having lost his spectacles at some point. “Aside from the fact that we just watched the head of Ganesha emit a fire sparkler, catch fire, explode, and fall into the forest?”