Temeraire. Naomi Novik
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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