by Naomi Novik
He did have one more letter, from his mother, which had been forwarded on from Dover. Aviators received their mail quicker than anyone else, post-dragons making their rounds from covert to covert, whence the mail went out by horse and rider, and she had evidently written and sent it before receiving Laurence’s own letter informing her of their departure.
He opened it and read most of it aloud for Temeraire’s entertainment: she wrote mainly of his oldest brother, George, who had just added a daughter to his three sons, and his father’s political work, as being one of the few subjects on which Laurence and Lord Allendale were in sympathy, and which now was of fresh interest to Temeraire as well. Midway, however, Laurence abruptly stopped, as he read to himself a few lines which she had made in passing, which explained the unexpected silence of his fellow-officers:
Naturally we were all very much shocked by the dreadful news of the Disaster in Austria, and they say that Mr. Pitt has taken ill, which of course much grieves your Father, as the Prime Minister has always been a Friend to the Cause. I am afraid I hear much talk in town of how Providence is favoring Bonaparte. It does seem strange that one man should make so great a difference in the course of War, when on both sides numbers are equal. But it is shameful in the extreme, how quickly Lord Nelson’s great victory at Trafalgar is Forgot, and your own noble defense of our shores, and men of less resolution begin to speak of peace with the Tyrant.
She had of course written expecting him to be still at Dover, where news from the Continent came first, and where he would have long since heard all there was to know; instead it came as a highly unpleasant shock, particularly as she gave no further particulars. He had heard reports in Madeira of several battles fought in Austria, but nothing so decisive. At once he begged Temeraire to forgive him and hastened below to Riley’s cabin, hoping there might be more news, and indeed found Riley numbly reading an express dispatch which Hammond had just given him, received from the Ministry.
“He has smashed them all to pieces, outside Austerlitz,” Hammond said, and they searched out the place on Riley’s maps: a small town deep in Austria, northeast of Vienna. “I have not been told a great deal, Government is reserving the particulars, but he has taken at least thirty thousand men dead, wounded, or prisoner; the Russians are fleeing, and the Austrians have signed an armistice already.”
These spare facts were grim enough without elaboration, and they all fell silent together, looking over the few lines of the message, which disobligingly refused to offer more information regardless of the number of times they were re-read. “Well,” Hammond said finally, “we will just have to starve him out. Thank God for Nelson and Trafalgar! And he cannot mean to invade by air again, not with three Longwings stationed in the Channel now.”
“Ought we not return?” Laurence ventured, awkwardly; it seemed so self-serving a proposal he felt guilty in making it, and yet he could not imagine they were not badly needed, back in Britain. Excidium, Mortiferus, and Lily with their formations were indeed a deadly force to be reckoned with, but three dragons could not be everywhere, and Napoleon had before this found means of drawing one or the other away.
“I have received no orders to turn back,” Riley said, “though I will say it does feel damned peculiar to be sailing on to China devil-may-care after news like this, with a hundred-and-fifty-gun ship and a heavy-combat dragon.”
“Gentlemen, you are in error,” Hammond said sharply. “This disaster only renders our mission all the more urgent. If Napoleon is to be beaten, if our nation is to preserve a place as anything more besides an inconsequential island off the coast of a French Europe, only trade will do it. The Austrians may have been beaten for the moment, and the Russians; but so long as we can supply our Continental allies with funds and with resources, you may be sure they will resist Bonaparte’s tyranny. We must continue on; we must secure at least neutrality from China, if not some advantage, and protect our Eastern trade; no military goal could be of greater significance.”
He spoke with great authority, and Riley nodded in quick agreement. Laurence was silent as they began to discuss how they might speed the journey, and shortly he excused himself to return to the dragondeck; he could not argue, he was not impartial by any means, and Hammond’s arguments had a great deal of weight; but he was not satisfied, and he felt an uneasy distress at the lack of sympathy between their thinking and his own.
“I cannot understand how they let Napoleon beat them,” Temeraire said, ruff bristling, when Laurence had broken the unhappy news to him and his senior officers. “He had more ships and dragons than we did, at Trafalgar and at Dover, and we still won; and this time the Austrians and the Russians outnumbered him.”
“Trafalgar was a sea-battle,” Laurence said. “Bonaparte has never really understood the navy; he is an artillery-man himself by training. And the battle of Dover we won only thanks to you; otherwise I dare say Bonaparte would be having himself crowned in Westminster directly. Do not forget how he managed to trick us into sending the better part of the Channel forces south and concealed the movements of his own dragons, before the invasion; if he had not been taken by surprise by the divine wind, the outcome could have been quite different.”
“It still does not seem to me that the battle was cleverly managed,” Temeraire said, dissatisfied. “I am sure if we had been there, with our friends, we should not have lost, and I do not see why we are going to China when other people are fighting.”
“I call that a damned good question,” Granby said. “A great pack of nonsense to begin with, giving away one of our very best dragons in the middle of a war when we are so desperate hard-up to begin with; Laurence, oughtn’t we go home?”
Laurence only shook his head; he was too much in agreement, and too powerless to make any alteration. Temeraire and the divine wind had changed the course of the war, at Dover. As little as the Ministry might like to admit it, or give credit for a victory to so narrow a cause, Laurence too well remembered the hopeless uneven struggle of that day before Temeraire had turned the tide. To be meekly surrendering Temeraire and his extraordinary abilities seemed to Laurence a willful blindness, and he did not believe the Chinese would yield to any of Hammond’s requests at all.
But “We have our orders” was all he said; even if Riley and Hammond had been of like mind with him, Laurence knew very well this would scarcely be accepted by the Ministry as even a thin excuse for violating their standing orders. “I am sorry,” he added, seeing that Temeraire was inclined to be unhappy, “but come; here is Mr. Keynes, to see if you can be allowed to take some exercise on shore; let us clear away and let him make his examination.”
“Truly it does not pain me at all,” Temeraire said anxiously, peering down at himself as Keynes at last stepped back from his chest. “I am sure I am ready to fly again, and I will only go a short way.”
Keynes shook his head. “Another week perhaps. No; do not set up a howl at me,” he said sternly, as Temeraire sat up to protest. “It is not a question of the length of the flight; launching is the difficulty,” he added, to Laurence, by way of grudging explanation. “The strain of getting aloft will be the most dangerous moment, and I am not confident the muscles are yet prepared to bear it.”
“But I am so very tired of only lying on deck,” Temeraire said disconsolately, almost a wail. “I cannot even turn around properly.”
“It will only be another week, and perhaps less,” Laurence said, trying to comfort him; he was already regretting that he had ever made the proposal and raised Temeraire’s hopes only to see them dashed. “I am very sorry; but Mr. Keynes’s opinion is worth more than either of ours on the subject, and we had better listen to him.”
Temeraire was not so easily appeased. “I do not see why his opinion should be worth more than mine. It is my muscle, after all.”
Keynes folded his arms and said coolly, “I am not going to argue with a patient. If you want to do yourself an injury and spend another two months lying about instead, by all m
eans go jumping about as much as you like.”
Temeraire snorted back at this reply, and Laurence, annoyed, hurried to dismiss Keynes before the surgeon could be any more provoking: he had every confidence in the man’s skill, but his tact could have stood much improvement, and though Temeraire was by no means contrary by nature, this was a hard disappointment to bear.
“I have a little better news, at least,” he told Temeraire, trying to rally his spirits. “Mr. Pollitt was kind enough to bring me several new books from his visit ashore; shall I not fetch one now?”
Temeraire made only a grumble for answer, head unhappily drooping over the edge of the ship and gazing towards the denied shore. Laurence went down for the book, hoping that the interest of the material would rouse him, but while he was still in his cabin, the ship abruptly rocked, and an enormous splash outside sent water flying in through the opened round windows and onto the floor; Laurence ran to look through the nearest porthole, hastily rescuing his dampened letters, and saw Temeraire, with an expression at once guilty and self-satisfied, bobbing up and down in the water.
He dashed back up to the deck; Granby and Ferris were peering over the side in alarm, and the small boats that had been crowding around the sides of the ship, full of whores and enterprising fishermen, were already making frantic haste away and back to the security of the harbor, with much shrieking and splashing of oars. Temeraire rather abashedly looked after them in dismay. “I did not mean to frighten them,” he said. “There is no need to run away,” he called, but the boats did not pause for an instant. The sailors, deprived of their entertainments, glared disapprovingly; Laurence was more concerned for Temeraire’s health.
“Well, I have never seen anything so ridiculous in my life, but it is not likely to hurt him. The air-sacs will keep him afloat, and salt water never hurt a wound,” Keynes said, having been summoned back to the deck. “But how we will ever get him back aboard, I have not the least idea.”
Temeraire plunged for a moment under the surface and came almost shooting up again, propelled by his buoyancy. “It is very pleasant,” he called out. “The water is not cold at all, Laurence; will you not come in?”
Laurence was by no means a strong swimmer, and uneasy at the notion of leaping into the open ocean: they were a good mile out from the shore. But he took one of the ship’s small boats and rowed himself out, to keep Temeraire company and to be sure the dragon did not over-tire himself after so much enforced idleness on deck. The skiff was tossed about a little by the waves resulting from Temeraire’s frolics, and occasionally swamped, but Laurence had prudently worn only an old pair of breeches and his most threadbare shirt.
His own spirits were very low; the defeat at Austerlitz was not merely a single battle lost, but the overthrow of Prime Minister Pitt’s whole careful design, and the destruction of the coalition assembled to stop Napoleon: Britain alone could not field an army half so large as Napoleon’s Grande Armée, nor easily land it on the Continent, and with the Austrians and Russians now driven from the field, their situation was plainly grim. Even with such cares, however, he could not help but smile to see Temeraire so full of energy and uncomplicated joy, and after a little while he even yielded to Temeraire’s coaxing and let himself over the side. Laurence did not swim very long but soon climbed up onto Temeraire’s back, while Temeraire paddled himself about enthusiastically, and nosed the skiff about as a sort of toy.
He might shut his eyes and imagine them back in Dover, or at Loch Laggan, with only the ordinary cares of war to burden them, and work to be done which he understood, with all the confidence of friendship and a nation united behind them; even the present disaster hardly insurmountable, in such a situation: the Allegiance only another ship in the harbor, their familiar clearing a short flight away, and no politicians and princes to trouble with. He lay back and spread his hand open against the warm side, the black scales warmed by the sun, and for a little while indulged the fancy enough to drowse.
“Do you suppose you will be able to climb back aboard the Allegiance?” Laurence said presently; he had been worrying the problem in his head.
Temeraire craned his head around to look at him. “Could we not wait here on shore until I am well again, and rejoin the ship after?” he suggested. “Or,” and his ruff quivered with sudden excitement, “we might fly across the continent, and meet them on the opposite side: there are no people in the middle of Africa, I remember from your maps, so there cannot be any French to shoot us down.”
“No, but by report there are a great many feral dragons, not to mention any number of other dangerous creatures, and the perils of disease,” Laurence said. “We cannot go flying over the uncharted interior, Temeraire; the risk cannot be justified, particularly not now.”
Temeraire sighed a little at giving up this ambitious project, but agreed to make the attempt to climb up onto the deck; after a little more play he swam back over to the ship, and rather bemused the waiting sailors by handing the skiff up to them, so they did not have to haul her back aboard. Laurence, having climbed up the side from Temeraire’s shoulder, held a huddled conference with Riley. “Perhaps if we let the starboard sheet anchor down as a counterweight?” he suggested. “That with the best bower ought to keep her steady, and she is already loaded heavy towards the stern.”
“Laurence, what the Admiralty will say to me if I get a transport sunk on a clear blue day in harbor, I should not like to think,” Riley said, unhappy at the notion. “I dare say I should be hanged, and deserve it, too.”
“If there is any danger of capsizing, he can always let go in an instant,” Laurence said. “Otherwise we must sit in port a week at least, until Keynes is willing to grant him leave to fly again.”
“I am not going to sink the ship,” Temeraire said indignantly, poking his head up over the quarterdeck rail and entering into the conversation, much to Riley’s startlement. “I will be very careful.”
Though Riley was still dubious, he finally gave leave. Temeraire managed to rear up out of the water and get a grip with his foreclaws on the ship’s side; the Allegiance listed towards him, but not too badly, held by the two anchors, and having raised his wings out of the water, Temeraire beat them a couple of times, and half-leapt, half-scrambled up the side of the ship.
He fell heavily onto the deck without much grace, hind legs scrabbling for an undignified moment, but he indeed got aboard, and the Allegiance did not do more than bounce a little beneath him. He hastily settled his legs underneath him again and busied himself shaking water off his ruff and long tendrils, pretending he had not been clumsy. “It was not very difficult to climb back on at all,” he said to Laurence, pleased. “Now I can swim every day until I can fly again.”
Laurence wondered how Riley and the sailors would receive this news, but was unable to feel much dismay; he would have suffered far more than black looks to see Temeraire’s spirits so restored; and when he presently suggested something to eat, Temeraire gladly assented, and devoured two cows and a sheep down to the hooves.
When Yongxing once again ventured to the deck the following morning, he thus found Temeraire in good humor: fresh from another swim, well-fed, and highly pleased with himself. He had clambered aboard much more gracefully this second time, though Lord Purbeck at least found something to complain of, in the scratches to the ship’s paint, and the sailors were still unhappy at having the bumboats frightened off. Yongxing himself benefited, as Temeraire was in a forgiving mood and disinclined to hold even what Laurence considered a well-deserved grudge, but the prince did not look at all satisfied; he spent the morning visit watching silently and brooding as Laurence read to Temeraire out of the new books procured by Mr. Pollitt on his visit ashore.
Yongxing soon left again; and shortly thereafter, his servant Feng Li came up to the deck to ask Laurence below, making clear his meaning through gestures and pantomime, Temeraire having settled down to nap through the heat of the day. Unwilling and wary, Laurence insisted on first going to his
quarters to dress: he was again in shabby clothes, having accompanied Temeraire on his swim, and did not feel prepared to face Yongxing in his austere and elegant apartment without the armor of his dress coat and best trousers, and a fresh-pressed neckcloth.
There was no theater about his arrival, this time; he was ushered in at once, and Yongxing sent even Feng Li away, that they might be private, but he did not speak at once and only stood in silence, hands clasped behind his back, gazing frowningly out the stern windows: then, as Laurence was on the point of speaking, he abruptly turned and said, “You have sincere affection for Lung Tien Xiang, and he for you; this I have come to see. Yet in your country, he is treated like an animal, exposed to all the dangers of war. Can you desire this fate for him?”
Laurence was much astonished at meeting so direct an appeal, and supposed Hammond proven right: there could be no explanation for this change but a growing conviction in Yongxing’s mind of the futility of luring Temeraire away. But as pleased as he would otherwise have been to see Yongxing give up his attempts to divide them from one another, Laurence grew only more uneasy: there was plainly no common ground to be had between them, and he did not feel he understood Yongxing’s motives for seeking to find any.
“Sir,” he said, after a moment, “your accusations of ill-treatment I must dispute; and the dangers of war are the common hazard of those who take service for their country. Your Highness can scarcely expect me to find such a choice, willingly made, objectionable; I myself have so chosen, and such risks I hold it an honor to endure.”
“Yet you are a man of ordinary birth, and a soldier of no great rank; there may be ten thousand men such as you in England,” Yongxing said. “You cannot compare yourself to a Celestial. Consider his happiness, and listen to my request. Help us restore him to his rightful place, and then part from him cheerfully: let him think you are not sorry to go, that he may forget you more easily, and find happiness with a companion appropriate to his station. Surely it is your duty not to hold him down to your own level, but to see him brought up to all the advantages which are his right.”
