by Naomi Novik
“It would not have been any less treason,” Laurence said.
“No, but as you were bent on that in any case, it would have been a good deal less pain,” Jane said, and then she rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead. “No, never mind. I do not mean it. I do not suppose there was any decent way to go about it: all decency was already gone. But damn you anyway, Laurence.”
He felt the justice of her rebuke, and bowed his head over his hands. After a moment she added, “And to crown the whole, you must needs come back and make a martyr of yourself, so now anyone who cares a farthing for your life must watch you hanged; that is, if they do not decide to make a spectacle of it and draw and quarter you in the fine old style. I suppose you would go to it like Harrison, ‘as cheerful as any man could do in that condition.’ Well, I should not be damned cheerful, and neither should anyone else who loved you, and some of them can knock down half of London Town if they should choose.”
“I SHOULD CERTAINLY CHOOSE,” Temeraire said, and thought to himself that he would make a point of speaking again to the Ministry gentleman, or perhaps one of those generals, to make it perfectly plain. “Pray do not worry, Laurence,” he added, “I am sure they will not be so foolish.”
“Men can be very foolish indeed,” Laurence said, “and I must, I do, beg you not to enter into a resolution, which should prevent my being able to face death with equanimity. You should make me a coward, if I must fear that my death should turn you against my country.”
“But I do not at all want you to face death with equanimity,” Temeraire said, “if by that you mean letting them hang you, instead of making a fuss. If that should make you unhappy, so should I be unhappy, if you were killed. It was dreadful, so dreadful, when I thought that you were gone. I did not feel as though I knew myself anymore. I even wanted to kill poor Lloyd, for no reason at all, and I do not ever wish to feel so again.”
Laurence said, “Temeraire, you must know that you shall, inevitably; I have two score years or three perhaps at most, and you ten, to look forward to.”
Temeraire flattened his ruff, unhappily, not wishing even to speak of the matter. “But that at least, will not be anyone’s fault; no one will have taken you.” The distinction was very plain in his mind. Anyway he did not mean to think about something so far-away and misty. Perhaps he might think of some way to prevent it, by then; if dragons might live two hundred years, he did not see why people might not, also.
He turned his head gladly as Moncey came dropping down beside him. “Temeraire, they are hungry over by Nottingham Castle: there were not enough deer for everyone.”
“They may come here and share our breakfast,” Temeraire said, indicating the great pit where Gong Su had made them a great thickened wheat porridge flavored with venison and greens and preserved lemons. It had been ingeniously made waterproof by a thick lining of canvas, and heated by stones which Iskierka had fired, dropped in. “And from now on we will all go shares; you must all admit,” he said to the others, “it is perfectly nice.”
“Nothing as good as a fresh hot buck all to oneself,” Requiescat said, grumbling.
“Well,” Temeraire said, “if you prefer, you may take a single buck or a cow to yourself instead of three days of soup or porridge, because that is how far they may be stretched, Gong Su says.”
He was very happy to turn to such mundane affairs, and to pretend that he and Laurence had finished their conversation, and were again in perfect accord, although it made him feel a little ashamed. He knew Laurence would not interrupt anything which was like work: Laurence did not think much of officers who had conversations or pleased themselves while their duty waited. So it was a good excuse, and as long as Temeraire made himself busy, he could be sure not to be asked to return again to the difficult and unhappy subject.
He was quite resolved that he was not going to let Laurence be killed, no matter what. Laurence would certainly never be happy after being killed, so it did not seem to Temeraire much consolation that he should be a little happier beforehand. And Temeraire was now very sure that the only way to be certain of protecting Laurence, would be to make it plain to their Lordships that something dreadful would happen to them, if they dared to hurt him, so he had no intentions of withdrawing his threat. But he could not help but peer cautiously sidelong to where Laurence was speaking now with Admiral Roland: he looked tired, and although of course he would not let his shoulders slump, there was some quality of unhappiness in the way he stood, and Temeraire’s conscience smote him even while he considered his escape from the discussion with gratitude.
At least Laurence was dressed respectably now: Temeraire felt that there, at least, he had done his duty a little better. He had whispered a quiet word to Lady Allendale, last night, and she had sent down some clothes from the house: a warm thick cloak, and some of Laurence’s old things, which had been given her to keep when Laurence had been put in prison. It was not quite how Temeraire should have liked to see him dressed; but at least he had his sword again, and better boots, and a coat which fitted.
Then Palliatia landed, with four more Yellow Reapers, and a couple of Grey Coppers, hungry, and punished him by making his subterfuge quite real. They fell upon the porridge, were noisy and quarrelsome while eating, and when it was all gone she said belligerently, “And where will we eat tomorrow? No treasure and no food either; what of all your fine promises now?”
He was rather taken aback to be so challenged, and said, “You needn’t snap at me, because we have lost a battle. After all, if Napoleon were so easy to beat, he would not have any treasure worth taking. So you must expect some difficulties, and I call it poor-spirited to begin to complain only because you were not clever enough to find yourself enough dinner last night.”
“Oh, you did not talk of difficulties before,” she said, “and you did not seem to think so much of Napoleon either. If he has so much treasure, then it stands to reason he must be very difficult to beat, and perhaps we are not going to win at all.”
“And if we do,” a Grey Copper named Rictus said pointedly, raising his head out of the porridge-pit, “I expect there will be no pavilions anyway, or treasure, not for us, or leastways not for those of us who haven’t got our captains again, and a place in the Corps waiting for us any time we like. No, it’ll be back to the breeding grounds with us, and if we are only to end up as we began, I don’t see why we are going about getting ourselves shot, and clawed, and flying across all Creation hungry.”
There was a low scattered murmur of agreement, and worse, several other dragons raising their heads, in some interest, to see how he would answer. Temeraire sat up angrily. “I am not a sneak, and if you like to call me one, you may say so at once, and plainly, instead of creeping about implying it.”
“Well, what do you mean to do, when we have won?” Ballista said, having listened in so far. “Rictus isn’t wrong to say that you needn’t worry about the rest of us anymore: you are not unharnessed anymore, even if you haven’t much of a crew to speak of.”
Temeraire flattened his ruff at this last remark. After all, he had Gong Su back now, and Dorset—even if Dorset was not quite so desirable as Keynes—and of course Emily and Demane and Sipho, and Fellowes and Blythe, and even Allen, so he had a perfectly respectable number, which in any case had nothing to do with the matter. “You had a crew before, and might have one again, yourself, and so might any of us,” he pointed out, “so the question is not whether one is in harness, but whether one may choose to be, or not, and if it is only a choice between being in harness or being in the breeding grounds, that is not enough of a choice at all, when the breeding grounds are so boring; and that is the case even if one is in harness for the moment.”
“Yes, but,” Ballista said, and then paused until Majestatis, lying next to her, said bluntly, “Look, old worm, we are all doing what you say, so what if they should offer you something you want, if only you keep us quiet and fighting with the rest of the harnessed fellows? We all know they
want to hang your captain—what if they should offer you his life?”
Temeraire paused in his turn. “Well, I am not going to let them hang Laurence no matter what,” he said, with a hasty glance to be sure he had not been overheard, “but I do see: they might offer me a very large pavilion, or a great deal of gold.” He rubbed a talon back and forth over his forehead, thoughtfully. “It would not be fair,” he said at last, “if I took anything that should be for me only, when I should be getting it not for my own work but for all of ours: we are all sharing. So perhaps,” he added, “one of you had better come along, when I go and talk to the generals again: one of the little ones who can go all about and let everyone know what it is they will give us.”
“I will come along,” Minnow said. “I have never been harnessed, and I don’t look to be ever, so no-one can say I am inclined to go soft on them. Anyway I would like to see a general, I never have.”
Temeraire stretched his head over to ask Laurence and Admiral Roland who was presently in command, and where they might be; which he thought quite a straightforward question. “Well, it isn’t,” Admiral Roland answered him. “It is still Dalrymple for the moment, I suppose. But he is likely to be replaced as soon as we get to Scotland and Government have a chance to take him out of harm’s way: our harm, that is. If there is a lick of sense among them it shall be Wellesley in his place, but we ought not put our hopes so high.”
“But then who am I to talk to?” Temeraire said. “I do not like to say so, but the others are not quite happy—after all our hard work, we have lost, and got no treasure, and they would like to know what use it is to keep on. Not,” he added hastily, in case Laurence or Admiral Roland should think that he was a poor officer, “that we have no discipline, but after all, they are not harnessed, so they wonder why we are helping so much.”
Laurence was silent a moment, and then he said, “We may as well speak to Wellesley: it cannot much matter who we have made arrangements with, if the war is lost.”
Admiral Roland nodded and said, “I will tell you: now we have got the guns out of the way, I meant to send some of us back anyway, to cover the infantry when they come out of Weedon. It is too close to London, and Bonaparte has too many dragons by half. I think I have worked out where he is getting them from,” she added. “He is using unharnessed beasts, too, pulled out of his own breeding grounds: I dare say that Celestial of his can talk them out of their caves as well as Temeraire can ours.”
“I do not see that she needed go to any special effort,” Temeraire said, with feeling, “when Napoleon is doing everything nice, and giving his dragons pavilions and treasure, too, I expect: I am sure no-one is complaining to her.”
Admiral Roland snorted. “Well, whether she has had much work or not, I am confident this is the best explanation for how he has laid hands on a hundred spare dragons, in so little time; he hasn’t taken a single beast off his eastern borders at all. And that means he can afford to spend a few dozen of them to harry our foot, on the march.”
Laurence nodded, and Temeraire saw the danger plainly: with the infantry walking to Scotland, they would be an easy target on the road for aerial assault; and going at their creeping pace of twenty miles a day would be in striking range of dragons headquartered at London for a week.
“The unharnessed beasts can less easily be taken by boarding, if Bonaparte should manage to put together some clever little strike,” she went on, “so it would be just as well to make Temeraire’s regiment the guard; and let him hash this out with Wellesley, before we have a mutiny on our hands: I haven’t the right to promise them anything, and you may be sure if I did their Lordships wouldn’t abide by it. And if you do secure them any pay,” she added dryly, “pray be sure it comes to the harnessed dragons, too: I am sure Excidium would not say no to a little treasure of his own.”
“It seems a great bother to me, to be flying back,” Armatius grumbled, when Temeraire had brought back the news: he did not much like always carrying Gentius around, but he was the least maneuverable of the heavy-weights, save Requiescat, so it fell to him nearly all the time.
“At least you do not need to carry a gun, too, in this direction,” Temeraire said, “and flying slower we will be able to find more food. Anyway, we are going to go arrange for our pay, which is like treasure that is given you every month without your having to work for it, so you cannot complain.”
Except the harnessed dragons sharing the park with them, who were disgruntled at not being allowed to come along and get some pay themselves. “Well, I am going back with you,” Iskierka announced, and would not be dissuaded, no matter what Granby said; and to Temeraire’s deep disgust Admiral Roland finally said, “No, it is just as well, Granby: she will only fuss, lying about in Scotland or going on patrol.”
But despite this setback, it was in any case satisfying to be flying back south, even though they were not to stay, because it felt to Temeraire a little as though they were reclaiming their territory; or at least refusing to acknowledge it was not theirs anymore. He still did not like to fall back all the way to Scotland, no matter how much more secure it should be, for regrouping; but if they must do it, at least they should not have run there directly from the battlefield, with the French dragons on their heels all the way: and perhaps they would even have a little fighting, if the French tried to attack the infantry on the march.
WEEDON WAS VISIBLE aloft from a long way: the walls of the depot were built of thick grey blocks of granite, with tall narrow turrets at each corner reaching far into the air, bristling with pepper guns. Around the walls, enormous stands of long halberds and arrow-headed spears had been planted on the ground in lines, so a great company of men might sleep safe from aerial assault, and the remnants of the infantry and cavalry were bivouacked among them. It did not look at all comfortable to attack, and thanks to the defenses, Temeraire had to lead everyone else to land all the way on the far side of the camp.
Wellesley came the long distance out to speak to them with no good grace, especially as he had to walk most of the way. “What the devil are you doing here? You ought to be nearly to Scotland by now, and half my cavalry are in fits.”
“We are here to protect you,” Temeraire said, injured, “and also to talk to you about pay, and our rights, since we did not win treasure.”
“Why, damn you, you can wait to bring the lawyers into it until after we have run the French out,” Wellesley said. “Good God, you may be sure Bonaparte does not have to argue his way through every battle.”
“If you would like to be compared to him,” Temeraire said, “then Bonaparte has also made a marketplace in Paris, for his dragons, and built them pavilions, and he is not penning them up in breeding grounds, either, if they do not like to be there—”
Laurence laid a hand on Temeraire’s leg, and Temeraire swallowed the rest of his remarks; it was difficult to remember that one must be respectful to a senior officer, even if the senior officer was unpleasant in return, and to have to think carefully about what one said, instead of laying everything out plainly, even if it was perfectly obvious and fair.
“Sir,” Laurence said, “we have been ordered to cover your retreat,” and handed Wellesley the note from Admiral Roland: a brief scrawl in her bad handwriting, which Temeraire could not quite read from overhead.
Wellesley scowled through the explanation, and then he crumpled the note and pitched it away; one of his aides hastily retrieved it out of the mud behind his back, to be sure it did not lie about to be picked up. “That woman is more to be relied on than half the general staff; it is a damned embarrassment. So this Chinese beast is managing Bonaparte’s dragons for him? How did he get the creature to obey him in the first place? He was not there for her hatching.”
“She is snobbish, so I suppose she liked that he is an emperor,” Temeraire said, “and that he should make it easy for her to be nasty to me: she is a very unpleasant sort of dragon.”
“I think perhaps you dislike her too greatly to be
just, Temeraire,” Laurence said, and to Wellesley said, “Sir, she had lately lost her companion before coming to France, and being bereft was perhaps more vulnerable to a kindness which ordinarily pride would have armored her against. But Bonaparte has not won her by any trick, but with a high degree of real affection, and certainly all the outward shows of respect; and he has materially altered the conditions for dragons under his rule, for the better.”
“So anyone can manage a dragon, then, if you bribe the creature properly, and cosset it like a woman,” Wellesley said.
Temeraire laid his ruff back. He did not think he was unjust to Lien at all, himself; but he did see that of course, Laurence’s explanation was the more important one, for their own case, and even Lien was not just helping Napoleon because he had given her a few presents. Not that Temeraire would have said no, to a diamond as handsome as the one she had been wearing at the Battle of Jena; but that was after she had decided to help. “It is not bribery or cosseting, if you pay someone what they deserve, and if they do not like to help you otherwise.”
“It is a good two thousand pounds to feed a beast your size for a year,” Wellesley said. “Do you expect more?”
“Then give me the two thousand pounds,” Temeraire said, “and I will undertake to feed myself, and put aside some of the rest, as I like.”
“Hah,” Wellesley said, “and when you gamble it away, and are starving, and you steal a cow to eat, then what is to be done with you?”
“Of course I would not gamble with treasure,” Temeraire said repressively. “If I wanted to take someone else’s treasure, I would fight them; and if I did not want to fight them, then I would not want to take it with a game anyway, because if I did win, then of course they would want to fight to get it back afterwards.”
“And I suppose every other dragon has as much sense?” Wellesley said.
