by Naomi Novik
Temeraire had eaten heartily that morning: a couple of young venison, with some stuffed ducks as a relish; he did not ask to eat, but looked a little wistfully at a smaller purple dragon eating roast suckling pigs off a skewer. But down a smaller alley Laurence also saw a tired-looking blue dragon, his hide marked with old sores from the silk carrying-harness he wore, turning sadly away from a beautifully roasted cow and pointing instead at a small, rather burnt sheep left off to the side: he took it away to a corner and began eating it very slowly, stretching it out, and he did not disdain the offal or the bones.
It was natural that if dragons were expected to earn their bread, there should be some less fortunate than others; but Laurence felt it somehow criminal to see one going hungry, particularly when there was so much extravagant waste at their residence and elsewhere. Temeraire did not notice, his gaze fixed on the displays. They came out of the district over another small bridge which led them back onto the broad avenue where they had begun. Temeraire sighed deeply with pleasure, releasing the aroma only slowly from his nostrils.
Laurence, for his part, was fallen quiet; the sight had dispelled his natural fascination with all the novelty of their surroundings and the natural interest inherent in a foreign capital of such extents, and without such distraction he was inescapably forced to recognize the stark contrast in the treatment of dragons. The city streets were not wider than in London by some odd coincidence, or a question of taste, or even for the greater grandeur which they offered; but plainly designed that dragons might live in full harmony with men, and that this design was accomplished, to the benefit of all parties, he could not dispute: the case of misery which he had seen served rather to illustrate the general good.
The dinner-hour was hard upon them, and Zhao Wei turned their route back towards the island; Temeraire also grown quieter as they left the market precincts behind, and they walked along in silence until they reached the gateway; there pausing he looked back over his shoulder at the city, its activity undiminished. Zhao Wei caught the look and said something to him in Chinese. “It is very nice,” Temeraire answered him, and added, “but I cannot compare it: I have never walked in London, or even in Dover.”
They took their leave from Zhao Wei briefly, outside the pavilion, and went in again together. Laurence sat heavily down upon a wooden bench, while Temeraire began to pace restlessly back and forth, his tail-tip switching back and forth with agitation. “It is not true, at all,” he burst out at last. “Laurence, we have gone everywhere we liked; I have been in the streets and to shops, and no one has run away or been frightened: not in the south and not here. People are not afraid of dragons, not in the least.”
“I must beg your pardon,” Laurence said quietly. “I confess I was mistaken: plainly men can be accustomed. I expect with so many dragons about, all men here are raised with close experience of them, and lose their fear. But I assure you I have not lied to you deliberately; the same is not true in Britain. It must be a question of use.”
“If use can make men stop being afraid, I do not see why we should be kept penned up so they may continue to be frightened,” Temeraire said.
To this Laurence could make no answer, and did not try; instead he retreated to his own room to take a little dinner; Temeraire lay down for his customary afternoon nap in a brooding, restless coil, while Laurence sat alone, picking unenthusiastically over his plate. Hammond came to inquire after what they had seen; Laurence answered him as briefly as he could, his irritation of spirit ill-concealed, and in short order Hammond went away rather flushed and thin-lipped.
“Has that fellow been pestering you?” Granby said, looking in.
“No,” Laurence said tiredly, getting up to rinse his hands in the basin he had filled from the pond. “Indeed, I am afraid I was plainly rude to him just now, and he did not deserve it in the least: he was only curious how they raise the dragons here, so he could argue with them that Temeraire’s treatment in England has not been so ill.”
“Well, as far as I am concerned he deserved a trimming,” Granby said. “I could have pulled out my hair when I woke up and he told me smug as a deacon that he had packed you off alone with some Chinaman; not that Temeraire would let any harm come to you, but anything could happen in a crowd, after all.”
“No, nothing of the kind was attempted at all; our guide was a little rude to begin, but perfectly civil by the end.” Laurence glanced over at the bundles stacked in the corner, where Zhao Wei’s men had left them. “I begin to think Hammond was right, John; and it was all old-maid flutters and imagination,” he said, unhappily; it seemed to him, after the long day’s tour, that the prince hardly needed to stoop to murder, with the many advantages of his country to serve as gentler and no less persuasive arguments.
“More likely Yongxing gave up trying aboard ship, and has just been waiting to get you settled in under his eyes,” Granby said pessimistically. “This is a nice enough cottage, I suppose, but there are a damned lot of guards skulking about.”
“All the more reason not to fear,” Laurence said. “If they meant to kill me, they could have done so by now, a dozen times over.”
“Temeraire would hardly stay here if the Emperor’s own guards killed you, and him already suspicious,” Granby said. “Most like he would do his best to kill the lot of them, and then I hope find the ship again and go back home; though it takes them very hard, losing a captain, and he might just as easily go and run into the wild.”
“We can argue ourselves in circles this way forever.” Laurence lifted his hands impatiently and let them drop again. “At least today, the only wish which I saw put in action was to make a desirable impression upon Temeraire.” He did not say that this goal had been thoroughly accomplished and with little effort; he did not know how to draw a contrast against the treatment of dragons in the West without sounding at best a complainer and at worst nearly disloyal: he was conscious afresh that he had not been raised an aviator, and he was unwilling to say anything that might wound Granby’s feelings.
“You are a damned sight too quiet,” Granby said, unexpectedly, and Laurence gave a guilty start: he had been sitting and brooding in silence. “I am not surprised he took a liking to the city, he is always on fire for anything new; but is it that bad?”
“It is not only the city,” Laurence said finally. “It is the respect which is given to dragons; and not only to himself: they all of them have a great deal of liberty, as a matter of course. I think I saw a hundred dragons at least today, wandering through the streets, and no one took any notice of them.”
“And God forbid we should take a flight over Regent’s Park but we have shrieks of murder and fire and flood all at once, and ten memoranda sent us from the Admiralty,” Granby agreed, with a quick flash of resentment. “Not that we could set down in London if we wanted to: the streets are too narrow for anything bigger than a Winchester. From what we have seen even just from the air, this place is laid out with a good deal more sense. It is no wonder they have ten beasts to our one, if not more.”
Laurence was deeply relieved to find Granby taking no offense against him, and so willing to discuss the subject. “John, do you know, here they do not assign handlers until the dragon is fifteen months of age; until then they are raised by other dragons.”
“Well, that seems a rotten waste to me, letting dragons sit around nursemaiding,” Granby said. “But I suppose they can afford it. Laurence, when I think what we could do with a round dozen of those big scarlet fellows that they have sitting around getting fat everywhere; it makes you weep.”
“Yes; but what I meant to say was, they seem not to have any ferals at all,” Laurence said. “Is it not one in ten that we lose?”
“Oh, not nearly so many, not in modern times,” Granby said. “We used to lose Longwings by the dozen, until Queen Elizabeth had the bright idea of setting her serving-maid to one and we found they would take to girls like lambs, and then it turned out the Xenicas would, too. And Winchesters often use
d to nip off like lightning before you could get a stitch of harness on them, but nowadays we hatch them inside and let them flap about for a bit before bringing out the food. Not more than one in thirty, at the most, if you do not count the eggs we lose in the breeding grounds: the ferals already there hide them from us sometimes.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a servant; Laurence tried to wave the man away, but with apologetic bows and a tug on Laurence’s sleeve, he made clear he wished to lead them out to the main dining chamber: Sun Kai, unexpectedly, had come to take tea with them.
Laurence was in no mood for company, and Hammond, who joined them to serve as translator, as yet remained stiff and unfriendly; they made an awkward and mostly silent company. Sun Kai inquired politely about their accommodations, and then about their enjoyment of the country, which Laurence answered very shortly; he could not help some suspicion that this might be some attempt at probing Temeraire’s state of mind, and still more so when Sun Kai at last came however to the purpose for his visit.
“Lung Tien Qian sends you an invitation,” Sun Kai said. “She hopes you and Temeraire will take tea with her tomorrow in the Ten Thousand Lotus palace, in the morning before the flowers open.”
“Thank you, sir, for bearing the message,” Laurence said, polite but flat. “Temeraire is anxious to know her better.” The invitation could hardly be refused, though he was by no means happy to see further lures thrown out to Temeraire.
Sun Kai nodded equably. “She, too, is anxious to know more of her offspring’s condition. Her judgment carries much weight with the Son of Heaven.” He sipped his tea and added, “Perhaps you will wish to tell her of your nation, and the respect which Lung Tien Xiang has won there.”
Hammond translated this, and then added, quickly enough that Sun Kai might think it part of the translation of his own words, “Sir, I trust you see this is a tolerably clear hint. You must make every effort to win her favor.”
“I cannot see why Sun Kai would give me any advice at all in the first place,” Laurence said, after the envoy had left them again. “He has always been polite enough, but not what anyone would call friendly.”
“Well, it’s not much advice, is it?” Granby said. “He only said to tell her that Temeraire is happy: that’s hardly something you couldn’t have thought of alone, and it makes a polite noise.”
“Yes; but we would not have known to value her good opinion quite so highly, or think this meeting of any particular importance,” Hammond said. “No; for a diplomat, he has said a great deal indeed, as much as he could, I imagine, without committing himself quite openly to us. This is most heartening,” he added, with what Laurence felt was excessive optimism, likely born of frustration: Hammond had so far written five times to the Emperor’s ministers, to ask for a meeting where he might present his credentials: every note had been returned unopened, and a flat refusal had met his request to go out from the island to meet the handful of other Westerners in the town.
“She cannot be so very maternal, if she agreed to send him so far away in the first place,” Laurence said to Granby, shortly after dawn the next morning; he was inspecting his best coat and trousers, which he had set out to air overnight, in the early light: his cravat needed pressing, and he thought he had noticed some frayed threads on his best shirt.
“They usually aren’t, you know,” Granby said. “Or at least, not after the hatching, though they get broody over the eggs when they are first laid. Not that they don’t care at all, but after all, a dragonet can take the head off a goat five minutes after it breaks the shell; they don’t need mothering. Here, let me have that; I can’t press without scorching, but I can do up a seam.” He took the shirt and needle from Laurence and set to repairing the tear in the cuff.
“Still, she would not care to see him neglected, I am sure,” Laurence said. “Though I wonder that she is so deeply in the Emperor’s counsel; I would have imagined that if they sent any Celestial egg away, it would only have been of a lesser line. Thank you, Dyer; set it there,” he said, as the young runner came in bearing the hot iron from the stove.
His appearance polished so far as he could manage, Laurence joined Temeraire in the courtyard; the striped dragon had returned to escort them. The flight was only a short one, but curious: they flew so low they could see small clumps of ivy and rootlings that had managed to establish themselves upon the yellow-tiled roofs of the palace buildings, and see the colors of the jewels upon the mandarins’ hats as the ministers went hurrying through the enormous courtyards and walkways below, despite the early hour of the morning.
The particular palace lay within the walls of the immense Forbidden City, easily identifiable from aloft: two huge dragon pavilions on either side of a long pond almost choked with water-lilies, the flowers still closed within their buds. Wide sturdy bridges spanned the pond, arched high for decoration, and a courtyard flagged with black marble lay to the south, just now being touched with first light.
The yellow-striped dragon landed here and bowed them along; as Temeraire padded by, Laurence could see other dragons stirring in the early light under the eaves of the great pavilions. An ancient Celestial was creeping stiffly out from the bay farthest to the southeast, the tendrils about his jaw long and drooping as mustaches. His enormous ruff was leached of color, and his hide gone so translucent the black was now redly tinted with the color of the flesh and blood beneath. Another of the yellow-striped dragons paced him carefully, nudging him occasionally with his nose towards the sun-drenched courtyard; the Celestial’s eyes were a milky blue, the pupils barely visible beneath the cataracts.
A few other dragons emerged also: Imperials rather than Celestials, lacking the ruff and tendrils, and with more variety in their hue: some were as black as Temeraire, but others a deep indigo-washed blue; all very dark, however, except for Lien, who emerged at the same time out of a separate and private pavilion, set back and alone among the trees, and came to the pond to drink. With her white hide, she looked almost unearthly among the rest; Laurence felt it would be difficult to fault anyone for indulging in superstition towards her, and indeed the other dragons consciously gave her a wide berth. She ignored them entirely in return and yawned wide and red, shaking her head vigorously to scatter away the clinging drops of water, and then paced away into the gardens in solitary dignity.
Qian herself was waiting for them at one of the central pavilions, flanked by two Imperial dragons of particularly graceful appearance, all of them adorned with elaborate jewels. She inclined her head courteously and flicked a talon against a standing bell nearby to summon servants; the attending dragons shifted their places to make room for Laurence and Temeraire on her right, and the human servants brought Laurence a comfortable chair. Qian made no immediate conversation, but gestured towards the lake; the line of the morning sun was now traveling swiftly northward over the water as the sun crept higher, and the lotus buds were unfolding in almost balletic progression; they numbered literally in the thousands, and made a spectacle of glowing pink color against the deep green of their leaves.
As the last unfurled flowers came to rest, the dragons all tapped their claws against the flagstones in a clicking noise, a kind of applause. Now a small table was brought for Laurence and great porcelain bowls painted in blue and white for the dragons, and a black, pungent tea poured for them all. To Laurence’s surprise the dragons drank with enjoyment, even going so far as to lick up the leaves in the bottom of their cups. He himself found the tea curious and over-strong in flavor: almost the aroma of smoked meat, though he drained his cup politely as well. Temeraire drank his own enthusiastically and very fast, and then sat back with a peculiar uncertain expression, as though trying to decide whether he had liked it or not.
“You have come a very long way,” Qian said, addressing Laurence; an unobtrusive servant had stepped forward to her side to translate. “I hope you are enjoying your visit with us, but surely you must miss your home?”
“An officer in the Kin
g’s service must be used to go where he is required, madam,” Laurence said, wondering if this was meant as a suggestion. “I have not spent more than a sixmonth at my own family’s home since I took ship the first time, and that was as a boy of twelve.”
“That is very young, to go so far away,” Qian said. “Your mother must have had great anxiety for you.”
“She had the acquaintance of Captain Mountjoy, with whom I served, and we knew his family well,” Laurence said, and seized the opening to add, “You yourself had no such advantage, I regret, on being parted from Temeraire; I would be glad to satisfy you on whatever points I might, if only in retrospect.”
She turned her head to the attending dragons. “Perhaps Mei and Shu will take Xiang to see the flowers more closely,” she said, using Temeraire’s Chinese name. The two Imperials inclined their heads and stood up expectantly waiting for Temeraire.
Temeraire looked a little worriedly at Laurence, and said, “They are very nice from here?”
Laurence felt rather anxious himself at the prospect of a solitary interview, with so little sense of what might please Qian, but he mustered a smile for Temeraire and said, “I will wait here with your mother; I am sure you will enjoy them.”
“Be sure not to bother Grandfather or Lien,” Qian added to the Imperial dragons, who nodded as they led Temeraire away.
The servants refilled his cup and Qian’s bowl from a fresh kettle, and she lapped at it in a more leisurely way. Presently she said, “I understand Temeraire has been serving in your army.”
There was unmistakably a note of censure in her voice, which did not need translation. “Among us, all those dragons who can, serve in defense of their home: that is no dishonor, but the fulfillment of our duty,” Laurence said. “I assure you we could not value him more highly. There are very few dragons among us: even the least are greatly prized, and Temeraire is of the highest order.”
