His Majesty's Dragon

THE SUN WOKE him, streaming in through the eastern windows. The forgotten cold plate had been waiting for him the night before when he had finally climbed back up to his room, Tolly evidently being as good as his word. A couple of flies had settled on the food, but that was nothing to a seaman; Laurence had waved them off and devoured it to the crumbs. He had meant only to rest awhile before supper and a bath; now he blinked stupidly up at the ceiling for the better part of a minute before getting his bearings.



Then he remembered the training; he scrambled up at once. He had slept in his shirt and breeches, but fortunately he had a second of each, and his coat was reasonably fresh. He would have to remember to find a tailor locally where he could order another. It was a bit of a struggle to get into it alone, but he managed, and felt himself in good order when at last he descended.



The senior officers' table was nearly empty. Granby was not there, but Laurence felt the effect of his presence in the sideways glances the two young men sitting together at the lower end of the table gave him. Nearer the head of the room, a big, thickset man with a florid face and no coat on was eating steadily through a heaped plate of eggs and black pudding and bacon; Laurence looked around uncertainly for a sideboard.



"Morning, Captain; coffee or tea?" Tolly was at his elbow, holding two pots.



"Coffee, thank you," Laurence said gratefully; he had the cup drained and held out for more before the man even turned away. "Do we serve ourselves?" he asked.



"No, here comes Lacey with eggs and bacon for you; just mention if you like something else," Tolly said, already moving on.



The maidservant was wearing coarse homespun, and she said, "Good morning!" cheerfully instead of staying silent, but it was so pleasant to see a friendly face that Laurence found himself returning the greeting. The plate she was carrying was so hot it steamed, and he had not a fig to give for propriety once he had tasted the splendid bacon: cured with some unfamiliar smoke, and full of flavor, and the yolks of his eggs almost bright orange. He ate quickly, with an eye on the squares of light traveling across the floor where the sun struck through the high windows.



"Don't choke," said the thickset man, eyeing him. "Tolly, more tea," he bellowed; his voice was loud enough to carry through a storm. "You Laurence?" he demanded, as his cup was refilled.



Laurence finished swallowing and said, "Yes, sir; you have the advantage of me."



"Berkley," the man said. "Look here, what sort of nonsense have you been filling your dragon's head with? My Maximus has been muttering all morning about wanting a bath, and his harness removed; absurd stuff."



"I do not find it so, sir, to be concerned with the comfort of my dragon," Laurence said quietly, his hands tightening on the cutlery.



Berkley glared straight back at him. "Why damn you, are you suggesting I neglect Maximus? No one has ever washed dragons; they don't mind a little dirt, they have hide."



Laurence reined in his temper and his voice; his appetite was gone, however, and he set down knife and fork. "Evidently your dragon disagrees; do you suppose yourself a better judge than he of what gives him discomfort?"



Berkley scowled at him fiercely, then abruptly he snorted. "Well, you are a fire-breather, make no mistake; and here I thought you Navy fellows were all so stiff and cautious-like." He drained his teacup and stood up from the table. "I will be seeing you later; Celeritas wants to pace Maximus and Temeraire out together." He nodded, apparently in all friendliness, and left.



Laurence was a little dazed by this abrupt reversal; then he realized he was near to being late, and he had no more time to think over the incident. Temeraire was waiting impatiently, and now Laurence found himself paying for his virtue, as the harness had to be put back on; even with the help of two ground crewmen he called over, they barely reached the courtyard in time.



Celeritas was not yet in the courtyard as they landed, but only a short while after their arrival, Laurence saw the training master emerge from one of the openings carved into the cliff wall: evidently these were private quarters, perhaps for older or more honored dragons. Celeritas shook out his wings and flew over to the courtyard, landing neatly on his rear legs, and he looked Temeraire over thoroughly. "Hm, yes, excellent depth of chest. Inhale, please. Yes, yes." He sat back down on all fours. "Now then. Let us have a look at you. Two full circuits of the valley, first circuit horizontal turns, then backwing on the second. Go at an easy pace, I wish to assess your conformation, not your speed." He made a nudging gesture with his head.



Temeraire leapt back aloft at full speed. "Gently," Laurence called, tugging at the reins to remind him, and Temeraire slowed reluctantly to a more moderate pace. He soared easily through the turns, and then the loops; Celeritas called out, "Now again, at speed," as they came back around. Laurence bent low to Temeraire's neck as the wings beat with great frantic thrusts about him, and the wind whistled at a high pitch past his ears. It was faster than they had ever gone before, and as exhilarating; he could not resist, and gave a small whoop for Temeraire's ears only as they went racing into the turn.



The second circuit completed, they winged back towards the courtyard again; Temeraire was scarcely breathing fast. But before they crossed half the valley there came a sudden tremendous roaring from overhead, and a vast black shadow fell over them: Laurence looked up in alarm to see Maximus barreling down towards their path as though he meant to ram them. Temeraire jerked to an abrupt stop and hovered in place, and Maximus went flying past and swept back up just short of the ground.



"What the devil do you mean by this, Berkley?" Laurence roared at the top of his lungs, standing in the harness; he was in a fury, his hands shaking but for his grip on the reins. "You will explain yourself, sir, this instant - "



"My God! How can he do that?" Berkley was shouting back at him, conversationally, as though they had not done anything out of the ordinary at all; Maximus was flying sedately back up towards the courtyard. "Celeritas, do you see that?"



"I do; pray come in and land, Temeraire," Celeritas said, calling out from the courtyard. "They were flying at you on orders, Captain; do not be agitated," he said to Laurence as Temeraire landed neatly on the edge. "It is of utmost importance to test the natural reaction of a dragon to being startled from above, where we cannot see; it is an instinct that often cannot be overcome by any training."



Laurence was still very ruffled, and Temeraire as well: "That was very unpleasant," he said to Maximus reproachfully.



"Yes, I know, it was done to me also when we started training," Maximus said, cheerful and unrepentant. "How do you just hang in the air like that?"



"I never gave it much thought," Temeraire said, mollified a little; he craned his neck over to examine himself. "I suppose I just beat my wings the other way."



Laurence stroked Temeraire's neck comfortingly as Celeritas peered closely at Temeraire's wing-joints. "I had assumed it was a common ability, sir; is it unusual, then?" Laurence asked.



"Only in the sense of it being entirely unique in my two hundred years' experience," Celeritas said dryly, sitting back. "Anglewings can maneuver in tight circles, but not hover in such a manner." He scratched his forehead. "We will have to give some thought to the applications of the ability; at the least it will make you a very deadly bomber."



Laurence and Berkley were still discussing it as they went in to dinner, as well as the approach to matching Temeraire and Maximus. Celeritas had kept them working all the rest of the day, exploring Temeraire's maneuvering capabilities and pacing the two dragons against each other. Laurence had already felt, of course, that Temeraire was extraordinarily fast and handy in the air; but there was a great deal of pleasure and satisfaction at hearing Celeritas say so, and to have Temeraire easily outdistance the older and larger Maximus.



Celeritas had even suggested they might try and have Temeraire fly double-pace, if he proved to retain his maneuverability even as he grew: that he might be able to fly a strafing run along the length of the entire formation and come back to his position in time to fly a second along with the rest of the dragons.



Berkley and Maximus had taken it in good part to have Temeraire fly rings around them. Of course Regal Coppers were the first-rates of the Corps, and Temeraire would certainly never equal Maximus for sheer weight and power, so there was no real basis for jealousy; still, after the tension of his first day, Laurence was inclined to take an absence of hostility as a victory. Berkley himself was an odd character, a little old to be a new captain and very queer in his manners, with a normal state of extreme stolidity broken by occasional explosions.



But in his strange way he seemed a steady and dedicated officer, and friendly enough. He told Laurence abruptly, as they sat at the empty table waiting for the other officers to join them, "You will have to face down a damned sight of jealousy, of course, for not having to wait for a prime 'un as much as anything. I was six years waiting for Maximus; it was well worth it, but I don't know that I would be able not to hate you if you were prancing about in front of me with an Imperial while he was still in the shell."



"Waiting?" Laurence said. "You were assigned to him before he was even hatched?"



"The moment the egg was cool enough to touch," Berkley said. "We get four or five Regal Coppers in a generation; Aerial Command don't leave it to chance who mans 'em. I was grounded the moment I said yes-thank-you, and here I sat staring at him in the shell and lecturing squeakers, hoping he wouldn't take too much bloody time about it, which by God he did." Berkley snorted and drained his glass of wine.



Laurence had already formed a high opinion of Berkley's skill in the air after their morning's work, and he did indeed seem the sort of man who could be entrusted with a rare and valuable dragon; certainly he was very fond of Maximus and showed it in a bluff way. As they had parted from Maximus and Temeraire in the courtyard, Laurence had overheard him telling the big dragon, "I suppose I will get no peace until you have your harness taken off too, damn you," while ordering his ground crew to see to it, and Maximus nearly knocking him over with a caressing nudge.



The other officers were beginning to file into the room; most of them were much younger than himself or Berkley, and the hall quickly grew noisy with their cheerful and often high-pitched voices. Laurence was a little tense at first, but his fears did not materialize; a few more of the lieutenants did look at him dubiously, and Granby sat as far away as possible, but other than this no one seemed to pay him much notice.



A tall, blond man with a sharp nose said quietly, "I beg your pardon, sir," and slipped into the chair beside him. Though all the senior officers were in coats and neckcloths for dinner, the newcomer was noticeably different in having his neckcloth crisply folded, and his coat pressed. "Captain Jeremy Rankin, at your service," he said courteously, offering a hand. "I believe we have not met?"



"No, I am just arrived yesterday; Captain Will Laurence, at yours," Laurence answered. Rankin had a firm grip, and a pleasant and easy manner; Laurence found him very easy to talk to, and learned without surprise that Rankin was a son of the Earl of Kensington.



"My family have always sent third sons to the Corps, and in the old days before the Corps were formed and dragons reserved to the Crown, my however-many-great-grandfather used to support a pair," Rankin said. "So I have no difficulties going home; we still maintain a small covert for fly-overs, and I was often there even during my training. It is an advantage I wish more aviators could have," he added, low, glancing around the table.



Laurence did not wish to say anything that might be construed as critical; it was all right for Rankin to hint at it, being one of them, but from his own lips it could only be offensive. "It must be hard on the boys, leaving home so early," he said, with more tact. "In the Navy we - that is, the Navy does not take lads before they are twelve, and even then they are set on shore between cruises, and have time at home. Did you find it so, sir?" he added, turning to Berkley.



"Hm," Berkley said, swallowing; he looked a little hard at Rankin before answering Laurence. "Can't say that I did; squalled a little, I suppose, but one gets used to it, and we run the squeakers about to keep them from getting too homesick." He turned back to his food with no attempt to keep the conversation going, and Laurence was left to turn back and continue his discussion with Rankin.



"Am I late - oh!" It was a slim young boy, his voice not yet broken but tall for that age, hurrying to the table in some disarray; his long red hair was half coming out of his plaited queue. He halted abruptly at the table's edge, then slowly and reluctantly took the seat on Rankin's other side, which was the only one left vacant. Despite his youth, he was a captain: the coat he wore had the double golden bars across the shoulders.



"Why, Catherine, not at all; allow me to pour you some wine," Rankin said. Laurence, already looking in surprise at the boy, thought for a moment he had misheard; then saw he had not, at all: the boy was indeed a young lady. Laurence looked around the table blankly; no one else seemed to think anything of it, and it was clearly no secret: Rankin was addressing her in polite and formal tones, serving her from the platters.



"Allow me to present you," Rankin added, turning. "Captain Laurence of Temeraire, Miss - oh, no, I forget; that is, Captain Catherine Harcourt of, er, Lily."



"Hello," the girl muttered, not looking up.



Laurence felt his face going red; she was sitting there in breeches that showed every inch of her leg, with a shirt held closed only by a neckcloth; he shifted his gaze to the unalarming top of her head and managed to say, "Your servant, Miss Harcourt."



This at least caused her to raise her head. "No, it is Captain Harcourt," she said; her face was pale, and her spray of freckles stood out prominently against it, but she was clearly determined to defend her rights; she gave Rankin a strangely defiant look as she spoke.



Laurence had used the address automatically; he had not meant to offend, but evidently he had. "I beg your pardon, Captain," he said at once, bowing his head in apology. It was indeed difficult to address her so, however, and the title felt strange and awkward on his tongue; he was afraid he sounded unnaturally stiff. "I meant no disrespect." And now he recognized the dragon's name as well; it had struck him as unusual yesterday, but with so much else to consider, that one detail had slipped his mind. "I believe you have the Longwing?" he said politely.



"Yes, that is my Lily," she said, an involuntary warmth coming into her voice as she spoke her dragon's name.



"Perhaps you were not aware, Captain Laurence, that Longwings will not take male handlers; it is some odd quirk of theirs, for which we must be grateful, else we would be deprived of such charming company," Rankin said, inclining his head to the girl. There was an ironic quality to his voice that made Laurence frown; the girl was very obviously not at ease, and Rankin did not seem to be making her more so. She had dropped her head again, and was staring at her plate with her lips pale and pressed together into an unhappy line.



"It is very brave of you to undertake such a duty, M - Captain Harcourt; a glass - that is to say, to your health," Laurence said, amending at the last moment and making the toast a sip; he did not think it appropriate to force a slip of a girl to drink an entire glass of wine.



"It is no more than anyone else does," she said, muttering; then belatedly she took her own glass and raised it in return. "I mean: and to yours."



Silently he repeated her title and name to himself; it would be very rude of him to make the mistake again, having been corrected once, but it was so strange he did not entirely trust himself yet. He took care to look at her face and not elsewhere. With her hair pulled back so tightly she did look boyish, which was some help, along with the clothes that had allowed him to mistake her initially; he supposed that was why she went about in male dress, appalling and illegal though it was.



He would have liked to talk to her, although it would have been difficult not to ask questions, but he could not be steadily talking over Rankin. He was left to wonder at it in the privacy of his own thoughts; to think that every Longwing in service was captained by a woman was shocking. Glancing at her slight frame, he wondered how she supported the work; he himself felt battered and tired after the day's flying, and though perhaps a proper harness would reduce the strain, he still found it hard to believe a woman could manage it day after day. It was cruel to ask it of her, but of course Longwings could not be spared. They were perhaps the most deadly English dragons, to be compared only with Regal Coppers, and without them the aerial defenses of England would be hideously vulnerable.



With this object of curiosity to occupy his thoughts, and Rankin's civil conversation as well, his first dinner passed more pleasantly than he had to some extent expected, and he rose from the table encouraged, even though Captain Harcourt and Berkley had been silent and uncommunicative throughout. As they stood, Rankin turned to him and said, "If you are not otherwise engaged, may I invite you to join me in the officers' club for some chess? I rarely have the chance of a game, and I confess that since you mentioned that you play, I have been eager to seize upon the opportunity."



"I thank you for the invitation; it would give me great pleasure as well," Laurence said. "For the moment I must beg to be excused, however; I must see to Temeraire, and then I have promised to read to him."



"Read to him?" Rankin said, with an expression of amusement that did not hide his surprise at the idea. "Your dedication is admirable, and all that is natural in a new handler. However, allow me if I may to assure you that for the most part dragons are quite capable of managing on their own. I know several of our fellow captains are in the habit of spending all their free time with their beasts, and I would not wish you based on their example to think it a necessity, or a duty to which you must sacrifice the pleasure of human company."



"I thank you kindly for your concern, but I assure you it is misplaced in my case," Laurence said. "For my own part, I could desire no better society than Temeraire's, and it is as much for my own sake as for his that we are engaged. But I would be very happy to join you later this evening, unless you keep early hours."



"I am very happy to hear it, on both counts," Rankin said. "As for my hours, not at all; I am not in training, of course, only here on courier duty, so I need not keep to a student's schedule. I am ashamed to admit that on most days I am not to be found downstairs until shortly before noon, but on the other hand that grants me the pleasure of expecting to see you this evening."



With this they parted, and Laurence set out to find Temeraire. He was amused to find three of the cadets lurking just outside the dining hall door: the sandy-haired boy and two others, each clutching a fistful of clean white rags. "Oh, sir," the boy said, jumping up as he saw Laurence coming out. "Would you need any more linens, for Temeraire?" he asked eagerly. "We thought you might, so we brought some, when we saw him eating."



"Here now, Roland, what d'you think you're about, there?" Tolly, carrying a load of dishes from the dining hall, stopped on seeing the cadets accost Laurence. "You know better'n to pester a captain."



"I'm not, am I?" the boy said, looking hopefully at Laurence. "I only thought, perhaps we could help a little. He is very big, after all, and Morgan and Dyer and I all have our carabiners; we can lock on without any trouble at all," he said earnestly, displaying an odd harness that Laurence had not even noticed before: it was a thick leather belt laced tightly around his waist, with an attached pair of straps ending in what looked at first glance like a large chain link made of steel. On closer examination, Laurence saw that this had a piece which could be folded in, and thus open the link to be hooked on to something else.



Straightening, Laurence said, "As Temeraire does not yet have a proper harness, I do not think you can lock on to the straps with these. However," he added, hiding a smile at their downcast looks, "come along, and we shall see what can be done. Thank you, Tolly," he said, nodding to the servant. "I can manage them."



Tolly was not bothering to hide his grin at this exchange. "Right you are," he said, carrying on with his duties.



"Roland, is it?" Laurence asked the boy, as he walked on to the courtyard with the three children trotting to keep up.



"Yes, sir, Cadet Emily Roland, at your service." Turning to her companions, and thus remaining blithely unconscious of Laurence's startled expression, she added, "And these are Andrew Morgan and Peter Dyer; we are all in our third year here."



"Yes, indeed, we would all like to help," Morgan said, and Dyer, smaller than the other two and with round eyes, only nodded.



"Very good," Laurence managed, looking surreptitiously down at the girl. Her hair was cut bowl-fashion, just like the two boys', and she had a sturdy, stocky build; her voice was scarcely pitched higher than theirs: his mistake had not been unnatural. Now that he gave a moment's thought to the matter, it made perfect sense; the Corps would naturally train up a few girls, in anticipation of needing them as Longwings hatched, and likely Captain Harcourt was herself the product of such training. But he could not help wondering what sort of parent would hand over a girl of tender years to the rigor of the service.



They came out into the courtyard and were met by a scene of raucous activity: a great confusion of wings and dragon voices filling the air. Most if not all of the dragons had just come from feeding and were now being attended by members of their crews, who were busy cleaning the harnesses. Despite Rankin's words, Laurence scarcely saw a dragon whose captain was not standing by its head and petting or talking to it; this evidently was a common interlude during the day when dragons and their handlers were at liberty.



He did not immediately see Temeraire; after searching the busy courtyard for a few moments, he realized that Temeraire had settled outside the exterior walls, likely to avoid the bustle and noise. Before going out to him, Laurence took the cadets over to Levitas: the little dragon was curled up alone just inside the courtyard walls, watching the other dragons with their officers. Levitas was still in his harness, but it looked much better than it had on the previous day: the leather looked as though it had been worked over and rubbed with oil to make it more supple, and the metal rings joining the straps were brightly polished.



Laurence now guessed that the rings were intended to provide a place for the carabiners to latch on; though Levitas was small compared with Temeraire, he was still a large creature, and Laurence thought he could easily sustain the weight of the three cadets for the short journey. The dragon was eager and happy for the attention, his eyes brightening as Laurence made the suggestion.



"Oh yes, I can carry you all easily," he said, looking at the three cadets, who looked back at him with no less eagerness. They all scrambled up as nimbly as squirrels, and each of them locked on to two separate rings in an obviously well-practiced motion.



Laurence tugged on each strap; they seemed secure enough. "Very well, Levitas; take them down to the shore, and Temeraire and I will meet you there shortly," he said, patting the dragon's side.



Having seen them off, Laurence wove through the other dragons and made his way out of the gate. He stopped short on his first clear look at Temeraire; the dragon looked strangely downcast, a marked difference from his happy attitude at the conclusion of the morning's work, and Laurence hurried to his side. "Are you not feeling well?" Laurence asked, inspecting his jaws, but Temeraire was bloodstained and messy from his meal, and looked to have eaten well. "Did something you ate disagree with you?"



"No, I am perfectly well," Temeraire said. "It is only -  Laurence, I am a proper dragon, am I not?"



Laurence stared; the note of uncertainty in Temeraire's voice was wholly new. "As proper a dragon as there is in the world; what on earth would make you ask such a question? Has anyone said anything unkind to you?" A quick surge of temper was rising in him already at the mere possibility; the aviators might look at him askance and say what they liked, but he was not going to tolerate anyone making remarks to Temeraire.



"Oh, no," Temeraire said, but in a way that made Laurence doubt the words. "No one was unkind, but they could not help noticing, while we were all feeding, that I do not look quite like the rest of them. They are all much more brightly colored than I am, and their wings do not have so many joins. Also, they have those ridges along their backs, and mine is plain, and I have more talons on my feet." He turned and inspected himself as he catalogued these differences. "So they looked at me a little oddly, but no one was unkind. I suppose it is because I am a Chinese dragon?"



"Yes, indeed, and you must recall that the Chinese are counted the most skilled breeders in the world," Laurence said firmly. "If anything, the others should look to you as their ideal, not the reverse, and I beg you will not for a moment doubt yourself. Only consider how well Celeritas spoke of your flying this morning."



"But I cannot breathe fire, or spit acid," Temeraire said, settling back down, still with an air of dejection. "And I am not as big as Maximus." He was quiet for a moment, then added, "He and Lily ate first; the rest of us had to wait until after they were done, and then we were allowed to hunt as a group."



Laurence frowned; it had not occurred to him that dragons would have a system of rank among themselves. "My dear, there has never been a dragon of your breed in England, so your precedence has not yet been established," he said, trying to find an explanation which would console Temeraire. "Also, perhaps it has something to do with the rank of their captains, for you must recall that I have less seniority than any other captain here."



"That would be very silly; you are older than most of them are, and have a great deal of experience," Temeraire said, losing some of his unhappiness in indignation over the idea of a slight to Laurence. "You have won battles, and most of them are only still in training."



"Yes, though at sea, and things are very different aloft," Laurence said. "But it is quite true that precedence and rank are not guarantors of wisdom or good breeding; pray do not take it so to heart. I am sure that when we have been in service a year or two, you will be acknowledged as you deserve. But for the moment, did you get enough to eat? We shall return to the feeding grounds at once if not."



"Oh, no, there was no shortage," Temeraire said. "I was able to catch whatever I wanted, and the others did not get in my way very much at all."



He fell silent, and was clearly still inclined to be dismal; Laurence said, "Come, we must see about getting you bathed."



Temeraire brightened at the prospect, and after the better part of an hour spent playing with Levitas in the lake and then being scrubbed by the cadets, his spirits were greatly restored. Afterwards, he curled happily about Laurence in the warm courtyard when they settled down together to read, apparently much happier. But Laurence still saw Temeraire looking at his gold-and-pearl chain more often, and touching it with the tip of his tongue; he was beginning to recognize the gesture as a desire for reassurance. He tried to put affection in his voice as he read, and stroked the foreleg on which he was comfortably seated.



He was still frowning with concern later that evening, as he came into the officers' club; a left-handed blessing, for the momentary hush that fell when he came into the room bothered him far less than it might otherwise have done. Granby was standing at the pianoforte near the door, and he pointedly touched his forehead in salute and said, "Sir," as Laurence came in.



It was an odd sort of insolence that could hardly be reprimanded; Laurence chose to answer as if it had been sincere, and said politely, "Mr. Granby," with a nod that he made a general gesture to the room, and walked on with what haste was reasonable. Rankin was sitting far back in a corner of the room by a small table, reading a newspaper; Laurence joined him, and in a few moments the two of them had set up the chessboard which Rankin had taken down from a shelf.



The buzz of conversation had already resumed; between moves, Laurence observed the room as well as he could without making himself obvious. Now that his eyes were opened, he could see a few female officers scattered in the crowd here, also. Their presence seemed to place no restraint on the general company; the conversation though good-natured was not wholly refined, and it was made noisy and confused by interruptions.



Nevertheless there was a clear sense of good-fellowship throughout the room, and he could not help feeling a little wistful at his natural exclusion from it; both by their preference and his own he did not feel that he was fitted for participation, and it could not but give him a pang of loneliness. But he dismissed it almost at once; a Navy captain had to be used to a solitary existence, and often without such companionship as he had in Temeraire. And also, he might now look forward to Rankin's company as well; he returned his attention to the chessboard, and looked no more at the others.



Rankin was perhaps out of practice a little, but not unskilled, and as the game was not one of Laurence's favorite pastimes they were reasonably well-matched. While they played, Laurence mentioned his concern for Temeraire to Rankin, who listened with sympathy. "It is indeed shameful that they should have not given him precedence, but I must counsel you to leave the remedy to him," Rankin said. "They behave that way in the wild; the deadlier breeds demand first fruits of the hunt, and the weaker give way. He must likely assert himself among the other beasts to be given more respect."



"Do you mean by offering some sort of challenge? But surely that cannot be a wise policy," Laurence said, alarmed at the very idea; he had heard the old fantastic stories of wild dragons fighting among themselves, and killing one another in such dueling. "To allow battle among such desperately valuable creatures, for so little purpose?"



"It rarely comes to an actual battle; they know one another's capabilities, and I promise you, once he feels certain of his strength, he will not tolerate it, nor will he meet with any great resistance," Rankin said.



Laurence could not have great confidence in this; he was certain it was no lack of courage that prevented Temeraire from taking precedence, but a more delicate sensibility, which had unhappily enabled him to sense the lack of approbation of the other dragons. "I would still like to find some means of reassuring him," Laurence said sadly; he could see that henceforth all the feedings would be a source of fresh unhappiness to Temeraire, and yet they could not be avoided, save by feeding him at different times, which would only make him feel still more isolated from the others.



"Oh, give him a trinket and he will settle down," Rankin said. "It is amazing how it restores their spirits; whenever my beast becomes sulky, I bring him a bauble and he is at once all happiness again; just like a temperamental mistress."



Laurence could not help smiling at the absurdity of this joking comparison. "I have been meaning to get him a collar, as it happens," he said, more seriously, "such as the one Celeritas wears, and I do believe it would make him very happy. But I do not suppose there is anywhere here where such an item may be commissioned."



"I can offer you a remedy for that, at any rate. I go to Edinburgh regularly on my courier duties, and there are several excellent jewelers there; some of them even carry ready-made items for dragons, as there are many coverts here in the north within flying distance. If you care to accompany me, I would be happy to bear you there," Rankin said. "My next flight will be this Saturday, and I can easily have you back by suppertime if we leave in the morning."



"Thank you; I am very much obliged to you," Laurence said, surprised and pleased. "I will apply to Celeritas for permission to go."



Celeritas frowned at the request, made the next morning, and looked at Laurence narrowly. "You wish to go with Captain Rankin? Well, it will be the last day of liberty you have for a long time, for you must and will be here for every moment of Temeraire's flight training."



He was almost fierce about it, and Laurence was surprised by his vehemence. "I assure you I have no objection," he said, wondering in astonishment if the training master thought he meant to shirk his duties. "Indeed, I had not imagined otherwise, and I am well aware of the need for urgency in his training. If my absence would cause any difficulty, I beg you to have no hesitation in refusing the request."



Whatever the source of his initial disapproval, Celeritas was mollified by this statement. "As it happens, the ground crewmen will need a day to fit Temeraire out with his new gear, and it will be ready by then," he said, in less stern tones. "I suppose we can spare you, as long as Temeraire is not finicky about being harnessed without you there, and you may as well have a final excursion."



Temeraire assured Laurence he did not mind, so the plan was settled, and Laurence spent part of the next few evenings making measurements of his neck, and of Maximus's, thinking the Regal Copper's current size might be a good approximation for what Temeraire could reach in future. He pretended to Temeraire that these were for the harness; he looked forward to giving the present as a surprise, and seeing it take away some of the quiet distress that lingered, casting a pall over the dragon's usually high spirits.



Rankin looked with amusement at his sketches of possible designs. The two of them had already formed the settled habit of playing chess together in the evenings, and sitting together at dinner. Laurence so far had little conversation with the other aviators; he regretted it, but could see little point in trying to push himself forward when he was comfortable enough as he was, and in the absence of any sort of invitation. It seemed clear to him that Rankin was as outside the common life of the aviators as he was, perhaps set aside by the elegance of his manners, and if they were both outcast for the same reason, they might at least have the pleasure of each other's society for compensation.



He and Berkley met at breakfast and training every day, and he continued to find the other captain an astute airman and aerial tactician; but at dinner or in company Berkley was silent. Laurence was not sure either that he wished to draw the man into intimacy, or that a gesture in that direction would be welcome, so he contented himself with being civil, and discussing technical matters; so far they had known each other only a few days, and there would be time enough to take a better measure of the man's real character.



He had steeled himself to react properly on meeting Captain Harcourt again, but she seemed shy of his company; he saw her almost only at a distance, though Temeraire was soon to be flying in company with her dragon, Lily. One morning however she was at table when he arrived for breakfast, and in an attempt to make natural conversation, he asked how her dragon came to be called Lily, thinking it might be a nickname like Volly's. She flushed to her roots again and said very stiffly, "I liked the name; pray how did you come to name Temeraire?"



"To be perfectly honest, I did not have any idea of the proper way of naming a dragon, nor any way of finding out at the time," Laurence said, feeling he had made a misstep; no one had remarked on Temeraire's unusual name before, and only now that she had brought him to task for it did he guess that perhaps he had raised a sore point with her. "I called him after a ship: the first Temeraire was captured from the French, and the one presently in service is a ninety-eight-gun three-decker, one of our finest line-of-battle ships."



When he had made this confession, she seemed to grow more easy, and said with more candor, "Oh; as you have said as much, I do not mind admitting that it was nearly the same with me. Lily was not properly expected to hatch for another five years at the earliest, and I had no notion of a name. When her egg hardened, they woke me in the middle of the night at Edinburgh covert and flung me on a Winchester, and I barely managed to reach the baths before she broke the shell. I simply gaped when she invited me to give her a name, and I could not think of anything else."



"It is a charming name, and perfectly suits her, Catherine," Rankin said, joining them at the table. "Good morning, Laurence; have you seen the paper? Lord Pugh has finally managed to marry off his daughter; Ferrold must be desperately hard up." This piece of gossip, concerning as it did people whom Harcourt did not know at all, left her outside the conversation. Before Laurence could change the subject, however, she excused herself and slipped away from the table, and he lost the opportunity to further the acquaintance.



The few days remaining in the week before the excursion passed swiftly. The training as yet was still more a matter of testing Temeraire's flying abilities, and seeing how best he and Maximus could be worked into the formation centered on Lily. Celeritas had them fly endless circuits around the training valley, sometimes trying to minimize the number of wingbeats, sometimes trying to maximize their speed, and always trying to keep them in line with one another. One memorable morning was spent almost entirely upside down, and Laurence found himself dizzy and red-faced at the end of it. The stouter Berkley was huffing as he staggered off Maximus's back after the final pass, and Laurence leapt forward to ease him down to the ground as his legs gave out from under him.



Maximus hovered anxiously over Berkley and rumbled in distress. "Stop that moaning, Maximus; nothing more ridiculous than a creature of your size behaving like a mother hen," Berkley said as he fell into the chair that the servants had hurriedly brought. "Ah, thank you," he said, taking the glass of brandy Laurence offered him, and sipped at it while Laurence loosened his neckcloth.



"I am sorry to have put you under such a strain," Celeritas said, when Berkley was no longer gasping and scarlet. "Ordinarily these trials would be spread over half a month's time. Perhaps I am pressing on too quickly."



"Nonsense, I will be well in a trice," Berkley said at once. "I know damned well we cannot spare a moment, Celeritas, so do not be holding us back on my account."



"Laurence, why are matters so urgent?" Temeraire asked that evening after dinner, as they once again settled down together outside the courtyard walls to read. "Is there to be a great battle soon, and we are needed for it?"



Laurence folded the book closed, keeping his place with a finger. "No; I am sorry to disappoint you, but we are too raw to be sent by choice directly into a major action. Still, it is very likely that Lord Nelson will not be able to destroy the French fleet without the help of one of the Longwing formations presently stationed in England; our duty will be to take their place, so they may go. That will indeed be a great battle, and though we will not participate in it directly, I assure you our part is by no means unimportant."



"No, though it does not sound very exciting," Temeraire said. "But perhaps France will invade us, and then we will have to fight?" He sounded rather more hopeful than anything else.



"We must hope not," Laurence said. "If Nelson destroys their fleet, it will pretty well put paid to any chance of Bonaparte's bringing his army across. Though I have heard he has something like a thousand boats to carry his men, they are only transports, and the Navy would sink them by the dozens if they tried to come across without the protection of the fleet."



Temeraire sighed and put his head down over his forelegs. "Oh," he said.



Laurence laughed and stroked his nose. "How bloodthirsty you are," he said with amusement. "Do not fear; I promise you we will see enough action when your training is done. There is a great deal of skirmishing over the Channel, for one thing; and then we may be sent in support of a naval operation, or perhaps sent to harass the French shipping independently." This heartened Temeraire greatly, and he turned his attention to the book with restored good humor.



Friday they spent in an endurance trial, trying to see how long both dragons could stay aloft. The formation's slowest members would be the two Yellow Reapers, so both Temeraire and Maximus had to be kept to that slower pace for the test, and they went around and around the training valley in an endless circle, while above them the rest of the formation performed a drill under Celeritas's supervision.



A steady rain blurred all the landscape below into a grey monotony and made the task still more boring. Temeraire often turned his head to inquire, a little plaintively, how long he had been flying, and Laurence was generally obliged to inform him that scarcely a quarter of an hour had passed since the last query. Laurence at least could watch the formation wheeling and diving, their bright colors marked against the pale grey sky; poor Temeraire had to keep his head straight and level to maintain the best flying posture.



After perhaps three hours, Maximus began to fall off the pace, his great wings beating more slowly and his head drooping; Berkley took him back in, and Temeraire was left all alone, still going around. The rest of the formation came spiraling down to land in the courtyard, and Laurence saw the dragons nodding to Maximus, inclining their heads respectfully. At this distance he could not make out any words, but it was clear they were all conversing easily among themselves while their captains milled about and Celeritas gathered them together to review their performance. Temeraire saw them as well, and sighed a little, though he said nothing; Laurence leaned forward and stroked his neck, and silently vowed to bring him back the most elegant jewels he could find in the whole of Edinburgh, if he had to draw out half his capital to do so.



Laurence came out into the courtyard early the next morning to say farewell to Temeraire before his trip with Rankin. He stopped short as he emerged from the hall: Levitas was being put under gear by a small ground crew, with Rankin at his head reading a newspaper and paying little attention to the proceedings. "Hello, Laurence," the little dragon said to him happily. "Look, this is my captain, he has come! And we are flying to Edinburgh today."



"Have you been talking with him?" Rankin said to Laurence, glancing up. "I see you were not exaggerating, and that you do indeed enjoy dragon society; I hope you will not find yourself tiring of it. You will be taking Laurence along with myself today; you must make an effort to show him a good pace," he told Levitas.



"Oh, I will, I promise," Levitas said at once, bobbing his head anxiously.



Laurence made some civil answer and walked quickly to Temeraire's side to cover his confusion; he did not know what to do. There was no possible way to avoid the journey now without being truly insulting; but he felt almost ill. Over the last few days he had seen more evidence than he liked of Levitas's unhappiness and neglect: the little dragon watched anxiously for a handler who did not come, and if he or his harness had been given more than a cursory wipe, it was because Laurence had encouraged the cadets to see to him, and asked Hollin to continue attending to his harness. To find Rankin the one responsible for such neglect was bitterly disappointing; to see Levitas behaving with such servility and gratitude for the least cold attention was painful.



Perceived through the lens of his neglect of his dragon, Rankin's remarks on dragons took on a character of disdain that could only be strange and unpleasant in an aviator; and his isolation from his fellow officers also, rather than an indication of nice taste. Every other aviator had introduced himself with his dragon's name ready to his lips; Rankin alone had considered his family name of more importance, and left Laurence to find out only by accident that Levitas was assigned to him. But Laurence had not seen through any of this, and now he found he had, in the most unguarded sort of way, encouraged the acquaintance of a man he could never respect.



He petted Temeraire and made him some reassurances meant mostly for his own comfort. "Is anything wrong, Laurence?" Temeraire said, nosing at him gently with concern. "You do not seem well."



"No, I am perfectly well, I assure you," he said, making an effort to sound normal. "You are quite certain you do not mind my going?" he asked, with a faint hope.



"Not at all, and you will be back by evening, will you not?" Temeraire asked. "Now that we have finished Duncan, I was hoping perhaps you could read me something more about mathematics; I thought it was very interesting how you explained that you could tell where you are, when you have been sailing for a long time, only through knowing the time and some equations."



Laurence had been very glad to leave behind mathematics after having forced the basics of trigonometry into his head. "Certainly, if you like," he said, trying to keep dismay out of his voice. "But I thought perhaps you would enjoy something about Chinese dragons?"



"Oh, yes, that would be splendid too; we could read that next," Temeraire said. "It is very nice how many books there are, indeed; and on so many subjects."



If it would give Temeraire something to think about and keep him from becoming distressed, Laurence was prepared to go as far as to bring his Latin up to snuff and read him Principia Mathematica in the original; so he only sighed privately. "Very well, then I leave you in the hands of the ground crew; I see them coming now."



Hollin was leading the party; the young crewman had attended so well to Temeraire's harness and seen to Levitas with such goodwill that Laurence had spoken of him to Celeritas, and asked to have him assigned to lead Temeraire's ground crew. Laurence was pleased to see the request had been granted; because this step was evidently a promotion of some significance, there had been some uncertainty about the matter. He nodded to the young man. "Mr. Hollin, will you be so good as to present me to these other men?" he asked.



When he had been given all their names and repeated them silently over to fix them in his memory, he deliberately met their eyes in turn and said firmly, "I am sure Temeraire will give you no difficulty, but I trust you will make a point of consulting his comfort as you make the adjustments. Temeraire, please have no hesitation about informing these men if you notice the least discomfort or restriction upon your movement."



Levitas's case had provided him with evidence that some crewmen might neglect their assigned dragon's gear if a captain was not watchful, and indeed anything else was hardly to be expected. Though he had no fear of Hollin's neglecting his work, Laurence meant to put the other men on notice that he would not tolerate any such neglect where Temeraire was concerned; if such severity fixed his reputation as a hard captain, so be it. Perhaps in comparison with other aviators he was; he would not neglect what he considered his duty for the sake of being liked.



A murmur of "Very good" and "Right you are" came in response; he was able to ignore the raised eyebrows and exchanged glances. "Carry on, then," he said with a final nod, and turned away with no small reluctance to join Rankin.



All his pleasure in the expedition was gone; it was distasteful in the extreme to stand by while Rankin snapped at Levitas and ordered him to hunch down uncomfortably for them to board. Laurence climbed up as quickly as he could, and did his best to sit where his weight would give Levitas the least difficulty.



The flight was brief, at least; Levitas was very swift, and the ground rolled away at a tremendous pace. He was glad to find the speed of their passage made conversation nearly impossible, and he was able to give brief answers to the few remarks Rankin ventured to shout. They landed less than two hours after they had left, at the great walled covert which spread out beneath the watchful looming eye of Edinburgh Castle.



"Stay here quietly; I do not want to hear that you have been pestering the crew when I return," Rankin said sharply to Levitas, after dismounting; he threw the reins of his harness around a post, as if Levitas were a horse to be tethered. "You can eat when we return to Loch Laggan."



"I do not want to bother them, and I can wait to eat, but I am a little thirsty," Levitas said in a small voice. "I tried to fly as fast as I could," he added.



"It was very fast indeed, Levitas, and I am grateful to you. Of course you must have something to drink," Laurence said; this was as much as he could bear. "You there," he called to the ground crewmen lounging around the edges of the clearing; none of them had stirred when Levitas had landed. "Bring a trough of clean water at once, and see to his harness while you are about it."



The men looked a little surprised, but they set to work under Laurence's hard eye. Rankin did not make any objection, although as they climbed up the stairs away from the covert and onto the streets of the city he said, "I see you are a little tender-hearted towards them. I am hardly surprised, as that is the common mode among aviators, but I must tell you that I find discipline answers far better than the sort of coddling more often seen. Levitas for instance must always be ready for a long and dangerous flight; it is good for him to be used to going without."



Laurence felt all the awkwardness of his situation; he was here as Rankin's guest, and he would have to fly back with the man in the evening. Nevertheless, he could not restrain himself from saying, "I will not deny having the warmest sentiments towards dragons as a whole; in my experience thus far I have found them uniformly appealing and worthy of nothing but respect. However, I must disagree with you very strongly that providing ordinary and reasonable care in any way constitutes coddling, and I have always found that deprivation and hardship, when necessary, can be better endured by men who have not been subjected to them previously for no cause."



"Oh, dragons are not men, you know; but I will not argue with you," Rankin said easily. Perversely it made Laurence even angrier; if Rankin had been willing to defend his philosophy, it could have been a sincere if wrongheaded position. But clearly it was not; Rankin was only consulting his own ease, and these remarks were merely excuses for the neglect he performed.



Fortunately they were at the crossroads where their paths were to diverge. Laurence did not have to endure Rankin's company any longer, as the man had to go on rounds to the military offices in the city; they had agreed to meet back at the covert before their departure, and he escaped gladly.



He wandered around the city for the next hour without direction or purpose, solely to clear his mind and temper. There was no obvious way to ameliorate Levitas's situation, and Rankin was clearly inured to disapproval: Laurence now recalled Berkley's silence, Harcourt's evident discomfort, the avoidance of the other aviators in general, and Celeritas's disapproval. It was unpleasant to think that by showing such an evident partiality for Rankin's company, he had given himself the character of approving the man's behavior.



Here was something for which he had rightly earned the cold looks of the other officers. It was of no use to say he had not known: he ought to have known. Instead of putting himself to the trouble of learning the ways of his new comrades-in-arms, he had been happy enough to throw himself into the company of one they avoided and looked at askance. He could hardly excuse himself by saying he had not consulted or trusted their general judgment.



He calmed himself only with difficulty. He could not easily undo the damage he had done in a few unthinking days, but he could and would alter his behavior henceforth. By putting forth the dedication and effort that was only Temeraire's due in any case, he could prove that he neither approved nor intended to practice any sort of neglect. By courtesy and attention to those aviators with whom he would be training, like Berkley and the other captains of the formation, he could show that he did not hold himself above his company. These small measures would take a great deal of time to repair his reputation, but they were all he could do. The best he could do was resolve upon them at once, and prepare to endure however long it would take.



Having finally drawn himself from his self-recrimination, he now took his bearings and hurried on to the offices of the Royal Bank. His usual bankers were Drummonds, in London, but on learning that he was to be stationed at Loch Laggan, he had written to his prize-agent to direct the funds from the capture of the Amitie here. As soon as he had given his name, he at once saw that the instructions had been received and obeyed; for he was instantly conducted to a private office and greeted with particular warmth.



The banker, a Mr. Donnellson, was happy to inform him, on his inquiry, that the prize-money for the Amitie had included a bounty for Temeraire equal to the value that would have been placed on an unhatched egg of the same breed. "Not that a number could easily be settled upon, as I understand it, for we have no notion of what the French paid for it, but at length it was held equal to a Regal Copper egg in value, and I am happy to say that your two-eighths share of the entire prize comes to nearly fourteen thousand pounds," he finished, and struck Laurence dumb.



Having recovered over a glass of excellent brandy, Laurence soon perceived the self-serving efforts of Admiral Croft behind this extraordinary assessment. But he hardly objected; after a brief discussion which ended in his authorizing the Bank to invest perhaps half of the money into the Funds for him, he shook Mr. Donnellson's hand with enthusiasm and took away a handful of banknotes and gold, along with a generously offered letter which he might show to merchants to establish his credit. The news restored his spirits to some extent, and he soothed them further by purchasing a great many books and examining several different pieces of valuable jewelry, and imagining Temeraire's happiness at receiving them both.



He settled finally upon a broad pendant of platinum almost like a breastplate, set with sapphires around a single enormous pearl; the piece was designed to fasten about the dragon's neck with a chain that could be extended as Temeraire grew. The price was enough to make him swallow, but he recklessly signed the cheque regardless, and then waited while a boy ran to certify the amount with the Bank so he could immediately bear away the well-wrapped piece, with some difficulty due to its weight.



From there he went straight back to the covert, even though there was another hour to the appointed meeting time. Levitas was lying unattended in the same dusty landing ground, his tail curled around himself; he looked tired and lonely. There was a small herd of sheep kept penned in the covert; Laurence ordered one killed and brought for him, then sat with the dragon and talked to him quietly until Rankin returned.



The flight back was a little slower than the one out, and Rankin spoke coldly to Levitas when they landed. Past the point of caring if it seemed rude, Laurence interrupted with praise and patted Levitas. It was little enough, and he felt miserable to see the little dragon huddled silently in a corner of the courtyard after Rankin had gone inside. But Aerial Command had given Levitas to Rankin; Laurence had no authority to correct the man, who was senior to him.



Temeraire's new harness was neatly assembled upon a couple of benches by the side of the courtyard, the broad neck-brace marked with his name in silver rivets. Temeraire himself was sitting outside again, looking over the quiet lake valley that was gradually fading into shadow as the late-afternoon sun sank in the west, his eyes thoughtful and a little sad. Laurence went to his side at once, carrying the heavy packages.



Temeraire's joy in the pendant was so great as to rescue Laurence's mood as well as his own. The silver metal looked dazzling against his black hide, and once it was on he tilted the piece up with a forehand to look at the great pearl in enormous satisfaction, his pupils widening tremendously so he could better examine it. "And I do so like pearls, Laurence," he said, nuzzling at him gratefully. "It is very beautiful; but was it not dreadfully expensive?"



"It is worth every penny to see you looking so handsome," Laurence said, meaning that it was worth every penny to see him so happy. "The prize-money for the Amitie has come in, so I am well in pocket, my dear. Indeed, it is quite your due, you know, for the better part of it comes from the bounty for our having taken your egg from the French."



"Well, that was none of my doing, although I am very glad it happened," Temeraire said. "I am sure I could not have liked any French captain half so much as you. Oh, Laurence, I am so very happy, and none of the others have anything nearly so nice." He cuddled himself around Laurence with a deep sigh of satisfaction.



Laurence climbed into the crook of one foreleg and sat there petting him and enjoying his continued quiet gloating over the pendant. Of course, if the French ship had not been so delayed and then captured, some French aviator would have had Temeraire by now; Laurence had previously given little thought to what might have been. Likely the man was somewhere cursing his luck; the French certainly would have learned that the egg had been captured by now, even if they did not know that it had hatched an Imperial, or that Temeraire had been successfully harnessed.



He looked up at his preening dragon and felt the rest of his sorrow and anxiety leave him; whatever else happened, he could hardly complain of the turn fate had served him, in comparison with that poor fellow. "I have brought you some books as well," he said. "Shall I begin on Newton for you? I have found a translation of his book on the principles of mathematics, although I will warn you at once that I am wholly unlikely to be able to make sense of what I read for you; I am no great hand at mathematics beyond what my tutors got into my head for sailing."



"Please do," Temeraire said, looking away from his new treasure for a moment. "I am sure we will be able to puzzle it out together, whatever it is."