Temeraire

This unpleasant task completed, he turned back for the hotel in which he had taken a room; he had invited Riley and Gibbs along with several other acquaintances to join him for dinner, in recompense of earlier hospitality from them. It was not yet two o’clock, and the shops were still open; he looked in the windows as he walked to distract himself from brooding upon the likely reaction of his family and nearest friends, and paused outside a small pawnbroker’s.

The golden chain was absurdly heavy, the sort of thing no woman could wear and too gaudy for a man: thick square links with flat discs and small pearl drops hanging from them, alternated. But for the metal and gems alone he imagined it must be expensive; most likely far more than he should spend, for he was being cautious with his funds now that he had no future prospect of prize money. He stepped inside anyway and inquired; it was indeed too dear.

‘However, sir, perhaps this one would do?’ the proprietor suggested, offering a different chain: it looked very much the same, only with no discs, and perhaps slightly thinner links. It was nearly half the price of the first; still expensive, but he took it, and then felt a little silly for it.

He gave it to Temeraire that night anyway, and was a little surprised at the happiness with which it was received. Temeraire clutched the chain and would not put it aside; he brooded over it the candlelight while Laurence read to him, and turned it this way and that to admire the light upon the gold and the pearls. When he slept at last it remained entwined with his talons, and the next day Laurence was obliged to attach it securely to the harness before Temeraire would consent to fly.

The curious reaction made him even more glad to find an enthusiastic invitation from Sir Edward awaiting him when they returned from their morning flight. Fernao brought the note out to him in the field when they landed, and Laurence read it aloud to Temeraire: the gentleman would receive them whenever they liked to come, and he could be found at the seashore near the bathing pools.

‘I am not tired,’ Temeraire said; he was as curious to know his breed as Laurence. ‘We may go at once, if you like.’

He had indeed been developing more and more endurance; Laurence decided they could easily stop and rest if needed, and climbed back aboard without even having shifted his clothing. Temeraire put out an unusual effort and the island whipped by in great sweeps of his wings, Laurence crouching low to his neck and squinting against the wind.

They spiralled down to the shore less than an hour after lifting away, scattering bathers and seashore vendors as they landed upon the rocky shore. Laurence gazed after them in dismay for a moment, then frowned; if they were foolish enough to imagine that a properly harnessed dragon would hurt them, it was hardly his fault, and he patted Temeraire’s neck as he unstrapped himself and slid down. ‘I will go and see if I can find Sir Edward; stay here.’

‘I will,’ said Temeraire absently, he was already peering with interest into the deep rocky pools about the shore, which had odd stone outcroppings and very clear water.

Sir Edward did not prove very difficult to find; he had noticed the fleeing crowd and was already approaching, the only person in view, by the time Laurence had gone a quarter of a mile. They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, but both of them were impatient to come to the real matter at hand, and Sir Edward assented eagerly as soon as Laurence ventured to suggest they should walk back to Temeraire.

‘A most unusual and charming name,’ Sir Edward said, as they walked, unconsciously making Laurence’s heart sink. ‘Most often they are given Roman names, extravagant ones; but then most aviators go into harness a great deal younger than you, and have a tendency to puff themselves up. There is something quite absurd about a two-ton Winchester called Imperatorius. Why, Laurence, however did you teach him to swim?’

Startled, Laurence looked, then stared: in his absence, Temeraire had gone into the water and was now paddling himself about. ‘Oh Lord, no, I have never seen him do it before,’ he said. ‘How can he not be sinking? Temeraire! Do come out of the water,’ he called, a little anxious.

Sir Edward watched with interest as Temeraire swam towards them and climbed back up onto shore, ‘How extraordinary. The internal air sacs which permit them to fly would, I imagine, make a dragon naturally buoyant, and having grown up on the ocean as he has, perhaps he would have no natural fear of the element.’

This mention of air sacs was a piece of new information to Laurence, but the dragon was joining them, so he saved the further questions that immediately sprang to mind. ‘Temeraire, this is Sir Edward Howe,’ Laurence said.

‘Hello,’ said Temeraire, peering down with interest equal to that with which he was observed. ‘I am very pleased to meet you. Can you tell me what breed I am?’

Sir Edward did not seem nonplussed by this direct approach, and he made a bow in reply. ‘I hope I will be able to give you some information, indeed; may I ask you to be so kind as to move some distance up the shore, perhaps by that tree which you see over there, and spread your wings, so we may better see your full conformation?’

Temeraire went willingly, and Sir Edward observed his motion. ‘Hm, very odd, not characteristic at all, the way he holds his tail. Laurence, you say his egg was found in Brazil?’

‘As to that, I cannot properly tell you, I am afraid,’ Laurence said, studying Temeraire’s tail; he could see nothing unusual, but of course he had no real basis for comparison. Temeraire carried his tail off the ground, and it lashed the air gently as he walked. ‘We took him from a French prize, and she was most recently come from Rio, judging by the markings on some of her water casks, but more than that I cannot say. The logs were thrown overboard as we took her, and the captain very naturally refused to give us any information about where the egg was discovered. But I assume it could not have come from much further, due to the length of the journey.’

‘Oh, that is by no means certain,’ Sir Edward said. ‘There are some subspecies which mature in the shell for upwards of ten years, and twenty months is a common average. Good Lord.’

Temeraire had just spread out his wings; they were still dripping water. ‘Yes?’ Laurence asked hopefully.

‘Laurence, my God, those wings,’ Sir Edward cried, and literally ran across the shore towards Temeraire. Laurence blinked and went after him, and caught up to him only by the dragon’s side. Sir Edward was gently stroking one of the six spines that divided the sections of Temeraire’s wings, gazing at it with greedy passion. Temeraire had craned his head about to watch, but was keeping otherwise still, and did not seem to mind having his wing handled.

‘Do you recognize him, then?’ Laurence asked Sir Edward tentatively; the man looked quite overwhelmed.

‘Recognize? Not, I assure you, in the sense of ever having seen his kind before; there can scarcely be three living men in Europe who have, and on the strength of this one glance I am already furnished with enough material for an address to the Royal Society,’ Sir Edward answered. ‘But the wings are irrefutable, and the number of talons: he is a Chinese Imperial, although of which line I certainly cannot tell you. Oh, Laurence, what a prize!’

Laurence gazed at the wings bemused; it had not occurred to him before that the fanlike divisions were unusual, nor the five talons which Temeraire had upon each foot. ‘An Imperial?’ he said, with an uncertain smile; he wondered for a moment if Sir Edward was practicing a joke on him. The Chinese had been breeding dragons for thousands of years before the Romans had ever domesticated the wild breeds of Europe; they were violently jealous of their work, and rarely permitted even grown specimens of minor breeds to leave the country. It was absurd to think that the French had been trundling an Imperial egg across the Atlantic in a thirty-six gun frigate.

‘Is that a good breed?’ Temeraire asked. ‘Will I be able to breathe fire?’

‘Dear creature, the very best of all possible breeds; only the Celestials are more rare or valuable, and were you one of those, I suppose the Chinese would go to war over our having put you into harness, so we must be glad you are not,’ Sir Edward said. ‘But though I will not rule it out entirely, I think it unlikely you will be able to breathe fire. The Chinese breed first for intelligence and grace; they have such overwhelming air superiority they do not need to seek such abilities in their lines. Japanese dragons are far more likely among the oriental breeds to have any special offensive capabilities.’

‘Oh,’ said Temeraire, glumly.

‘Temeraire, do not be absurd, it is the most famous news anyone could imagine,’ Laurence said, beginning to believe at last; this was too far to carry a joke. ‘You are quite certain, sir?’ he could not help asking.

‘Oh yes,’ Sir Edward said, returning to his examination of the wings. ‘Only look at the delicacy of the membrane; the consistency of the colour throughout the body, and the co ordination between the colour of the eyes and the markings. I should have seen he was a Chinese breed at once; it is quite impossible that he should have come from the wild, and no European or Incan breeder is capable of such work. And,’ he added, ‘this explains the swimming as well: Chinese beasts often have an affinity for water, if I recall correctly.’

‘An Imperial,’ Laurence murmured, stroking Temeraire’s side in wonder. ‘It is incredible; they ought to have convoyed him with half their fleet, or sent a handler to him rather than the reverse.’

‘Perhaps they did not know what they had,’ Sir Edward said. ‘Chinese eggs are notoriously difficult to categorize by appearance, other than having the texture of fine porcelain. I do not suppose, by the by, that you have any of the eggshell preserved?’ he asked wistfully.

‘Not I, but perhaps some of the hands may have saved a bit,’ Laurence said. ‘I would be happy to make inquiry for you; I am deeply indebted to you.’

‘Not at all; the debt is entirely on my side. To think that I have seen an Imperial – and spoken with one!’ He bowed to Temeraire. ‘In that, I may be unique among Englishmen, although le Comte de la Pérouse wrote in his journals of having spoken with one in Korea, in the palace of their king.’

‘I would like to read that,’ Temeraire said. ‘Laurence, can you get a copy?’

‘I will certainly try,’ Laurence said. ‘And sir, I would be very grateful if you could recommend some texts to my attention; I would be glad of any knowledge of the habits and behaviours of the breed.’

‘Well, there are precious few resources, I am afraid; you will shortly be more of an expert than any other European, I imagine,’ Sir Edward said. ‘But I will certainly give you a list, and I have several texts I would be happy to lend you, including the journals of La Pérouse. If Temeraire does not mind waiting here, perhaps we can walk back to my hotel and retrieve them; I am afraid he would not fit very comfortably in the village.’

‘I do not mind at all; I will go swimming again,’ Temeraire said.

Having taken tea with Sir Edward and collected a number of books from him, Laurence found a shepherd in the village willing to take his money, so he could feed Temeraire before their return journey. He was forced to drag the sheep down to the shore himself, however, with the animal bleating wildly and trying to get away long before Temeraire even came into view. Laurence ended up having to carry it bodily, and it took its last revenge by defecating upon him just before he flung it down at last in front of the eager dragon.

While Temeraire feasted, he stripped to the skin and scrubbed his clothing as best he could in the water, then left the wet things on a sunny rock to dry while the two of them bathed together. Laurence was not a particularly good swimmer himself, but with Temeraire to hold on to, he could risk the deeper water where the dragon could swim. Temeraire’s delight in the water was infectious, and in the end Laurence too succumbed to playfulness, splashing the dragon and plunging under the water to come up on his other side.

The water was beautifully warm, and there were many outcroppings of rock to crawl out upon for a rest, some large enough for both of them; when he at last led Temeraire back onto the shore, several hours had gone by, and the sun was sinking rapidly. He was guiltily glad the other bathers had stayed away; he would have been ashamed to be seen frolicking like a boy.

The sun was warm on their backs as they winged across the island back to Funchal, both of them brimming with satisfaction, with the precious books wrapped in oilskin and strapped to the harness. ‘I will read to you from the journals tonight,’ Laurence was saying, when he was interrupted by a loud, bugling call ahead of them.

Temeraire was so startled he stopped in midair, hovering for a moment; then he roared back, a strangely tentative sound. He launched himself forwards again, and in a moment Laurence saw the source of the call: a pale grey dragon with mottled white markings upon its belly and white striations across its wings, almost invisible against the cloud cover; it was a great distance above them.

It swooped down very quickly and drew alongside them; he could see that it was smaller than Temeraire, even at his present size, but it could glide along on a single beat of its wings for much longer. Its rider was wearing grey leather that matched its hide, and a heavy hood; he unhooked several clasps on this and pushed it to hang back off his head. ‘Captain James, on Volatilus, dispatch service,’ he said, staring at Laurence in open curiosity.

Laurence hesitated; a response was obviously called for, but he was not quite sure how to style himself, for he had not yet been formally discharged from the Navy, nor formally inducted into the Corps. ‘Captain Laurence of His Majesty’s Navy,’ he said finally, ‘on Temeraire; I am at present unassigned. Are you headed for Funchal?’

‘Navy? Yes, I am, and I expect you had better be as well, after that introduction,’ James said; he had a pleasant-looking long face, but Laurence’s reply had marred it by a deep frown. ‘How old is that dragonet, and where did you get him?’

‘I am three weeks and five days out of the shell, and Laurence won me in a battle,’ Temeraire said, before Laurence could reply. ‘How did you meet James?’ he asked, addressing the other dragon.

Volatilus blinked large milky blue eyes and said, in a bright voice, ‘I was hatched! From an egg!’

‘Oh?’ said Temeraire, uncertainly, and turned his head around to Laurence with a startled look. Laurence shook his head quickly, to keep him silent.

‘Sir, if you have questions, they can be best answered on the ground,’ he said to James, a little coldly; there had been a peremptory quality he did not like in the other man’s tone. ‘Temeraire and I are staying just outside the town; do you care to accompany us, or shall we follow you to your landing grounds?’

James had been looking with surprise at Temeraire, and he answered Laurence with a little more warmth, ‘Oh, let us go to yours; the moment I set down officially I will be mobbed with people wanting to send parcels, we will not be able to talk.’

‘Very well; it is a field to the south-west of the city,’ Laurence said. ‘Temeraire, pray take the lead.’

The grey dragon had no difficulty keeping up, though Laurence thought Temeraire was secretly trying to pull away; Volatilus had clearly been bred, and bred successfully, for speed. English breeders were gifted at working with their limited stocks to achieve specific results, but evidently intelligence had been sacrificed in the process of achieving this particular one.

They landed together, to the anxious lowing of the cattle that had been delivered for Temeraire’s dinner. ‘Temeraire, be gentle with him,’ Laurence said quietly. ‘Some dragons do not have very good understanding, like some people; you remember Bill Swallow, on the Reliant.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Temeraire said, equally low. ‘I understand now; I will be careful. Do you think he would like one of my cows?’

‘Would he care for something to eat?’ Laurence asked James, as they both dismounted and met on the ground. ‘Temeraire has already eaten this afternoon; he can spare a cow.’

‘Why, that is very kind of you,’ James said, thawing visibly, ‘I am sure he would like it very much, wouldn’t you, you bottomless pit,’ he said affectionately, patting Volatilus’s neck.

‘Cows!’ Volatilus said, staring at them with wide eyes.

‘Come and have some with me, we can eat over here,’ Temeraire said to the little grey, and sat up to snatch a pair of the cows over the wall of the pen. He laid them out in a clean grassy part of the field, and Volatilus eagerly trotted over to share when Temeraire beckoned.

‘It is uncommonly generous of you, and of him,’ James said, as Laurence led him to the cottage. ‘I have never seen one of the big ones share like that; what breed is he?’

‘I am not myself an expert, and he came to us without provenance; but Sir Edward Howe has just today identified him as an Imperial,’ Laurence said, feeling a little embarrassed; it seemed like showing off, but of course it was just plain fact, and he could not avoid telling people.

James stumbled over the threshold on the news and nearly fell into Fernao. ‘Are you— oh, Lord, you are not joking,’ he said, recovering and handing his leather coat off. ‘But how did you find him, and how did you come to put him into harness?’

Laurence himself would never have dreamed of interrogating a host in such a way, but he concealed his opinion of James’s manners; the circumstances surely warranted some leeway. ‘I will be happy to tell you,’ he said, showing the other man into the sitting room. ‘I should like your advice, in fact, on how I am to proceed. Will you have some tea?’

‘Yes, although coffee if you have it,’ James said, pulling a chair closer to the fire; he sprawled into it with his leg slung over the arm. ‘Damn, it’s good to sit for a minute; we have been in the air for seven hours.’

‘Seven hours? You must be shattered,’ Laurence said, startled. ‘I had no idea they could stay aloft that long.’

‘Oh, bless you, I have been on fourteen-hour flights,’ James said. ‘I shouldn’t try it with yours, though; Volly can stay up beating his wings once an hour, in fine weather.’ He yawned enormously. ‘Still, it’s no joke, not with the air currents over the ocean.’

Fernao came in with coffee and tea, and once they were both served, Laurence briefly described Temeraire’s acquisition and harnessing for James, who listened in open amazement while drinking five cups of coffee and eating through two platefuls of sandwiches.

‘So as you see, I am at something of a loss; Admiral Croft has written a dispatch to the Corps at Gibraltar asking for instructions regarding my situation, which I trust you will carry, but I confess I would be grateful for some idea of what to expect,’ he finished.

‘You’re asking the wrong fellow, I’m afraid,’ James said cheerfully, draining a sixth cup. ‘Never heard of anything like it, and I can’t even give you advance warning about training. I was sold off for the dispatch service by the time I was twelve, and on Volly by fourteen; you’ll be doing heavy combat with your beauty. But,’ he added, ‘I’ll spare you any more waiting: I’ll pop over to the landing grounds, get the post, and take your admiral’s dispatch over tonight. I shouldn’t be surprised if you have a senior cap over to see you before dinnertime tomorrow.’

‘I beg your pardon, a senior what?’ Laurence said, forced to ask in desperation; James’s mode of speaking had grown steadily looser with the coffee he consumed.

‘Senior captain,’ James said. He grinned, swung his leg down, and climbed out of the chair, standing up on his toes to stretch. ‘You’ll make a flyer; I almost forget I’m not talking to one.’

‘Thank you; that is a handsome compliment,’ Laurence said, though privately he wished James would have made more of an effort to remember. ‘But surely you will not fly through the night?’

‘Of course; no need to lie about here, in this weather. That coffee has put the life back in me, and on a cow Volly could fly to China and back,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a better berth over on Gibraltar anyway. Off I go,’ and with this remark he walked out of the sitting room, took his own coat from the closet, and strolled out the door whistling, while Laurence hesitated, taken aback, and only belatedly went after him.

Volly came bounding up to James with a couple of short fluttering hops, babbling to him excitedly about cows and ‘Temrer,’ which was the best he could do at Temeraire’s name; James petted him and climbed back up. ‘Thanks again; will see you on my rounds if you do your training at Gibraltar,’ he said, waved a hand, and with a flurry of grey wings they were a quickly diminishing figure in the twilight sky.

‘He was very happy to have the cow,’ Temeraire said after a moment, standing looking after them beside Laurence.

Laurence laughed at this faint praise and reached up to scratch Temeraire’s neck gently. ‘I am sorry your first meeting with another dragon was not very auspicious,’ he said. ‘But he and James will be taking Admiral Croft’s message to Gibraltar for us, and in another day or two I expect you will be meeting more congenial minds.’

James had evidently not been exaggerating in his estimate, however; Laurence had just set out for town the next afternoon when a great shadow crossed over the harbour, and he looked up to see an enormous red-and-gold beast sailing by overhead, making for the landing grounds on the outskirts of the town. He at once set out for the Commendable, expecting any communication to reach him there, and none too soon; halfway there a breathless young midshipman tracked him down, and told him that Admiral Croft had sent for him.

Two aviators were waiting for him in Croft’s stateroom: Captain Portland, a tall, thin man with severe features and a hawksbill nose, who looked rather dragonlike himself, and a Lieutenant Dayes, a young man scarcely twenty years of age, with a long queue of pale red hair and pale eyebrows to match, and an unfriendly expression. Their manner was as aloof as reputation made that of all aviators, and unlike James they showed no signs of unbending towards him.

‘Well, Laurence, you are a very lucky fellow,’ Croft said, as soon as Laurence had suffered through the stilted introductions, ‘we will have you back in the Reliant after all.’

Still in the process of considering the aviators, Laurence paused at this. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.

Portland gave Croft a swift contemptuous glance; but then the remark about luck had certainly been tactless if not offensive. ‘You have indeed performed a singular service for the Corps,’ he said stiffly, turning to Laurence, ‘but I hope we will not have to ask you to continue that ser vice any further. Lieutenant Dayes is here to relieve you.’

Laurence looked in confusion at Dayes, who stared back with a hint of belligerence in his eye. ‘Sir,’ he said, slowly; he could not quite think, ‘I was under the impression that a dragon’s handler could not be relieved: that he had to be present at its hatching. Am I mistaken?’

‘Under ordinary circumstances, you are correct, and it is certainly desirable,’ Portland said. ‘However, on occasion a handler is lost, to disease or injury, and we have been able to convince the dragon to accept a new aviator in more than half of such cases. I expect here that his youth will render Temeraire,’ his voice lingered on the name with a faint air of distaste, ‘even more amenable to the replacement.’

‘I see,’ Laurence said; it was all he could manage. Three weeks ago, the news would have given him the greatest joy; now it seemed oddly flat.

‘Naturally we are grateful to you,’ Portland said, perhaps feeling some more civil response was called for. ‘But he will do much better in the hands of a trained aviator, and I am sure that the Navy cannot easily spare us so devoted an officer.’