The Temeraire Series Books 1-3: Temeraire, Throne of Jade, Black Powder War

‘Perhaps another time, Roland,’ he said, gently. ‘We will be here in Dover for a long time now, and I promise you will have another opportunity.’

‘Oh,’ she said, downcast. ‘Yes, sir.’ She went away drooping so that Laurence felt guilty.

Temeraire watched her go and inquired, ‘Laurence, is there something particularly interesting in Dover, and might we go and see it? So many of our crew seem to be making a visit.’

‘Oh dear,’ Laurence said; he felt rather awkward explaining that the main attraction was the abundance of harbour prostitutes and cheap liquor. ‘Well, a city has a great many people in it, and thus various entertainments provided in close proximity,’ he tried.

‘Do you mean such as more books?’ Temeraire said. ‘But I have never seen Dunne or Collins reading, and they were so very excited to be going: they talked of nothing else all yesterday evening.’

Laurence silently cursed the two unfortunate young midwingmen for complicating his task, already planning their next week’s duties in a vengeful spirit. ‘There is also the theatre, and concerts,’ he said lamely. But this was carrying concealment too far: the sting of dishonesty was unpleasant, and he could not bear to feel he had been deceitful to Temeraire, who after all was grown now. ‘But I am afraid that some of them go there to drink, and keep low company,’ he said more frankly.

‘Oh, you mean whores,’ Temeraire said, startling Laurence so greatly he nearly fell from his seat. ‘I did not know they had those in cities, too, but now I understand.’

‘Where on earth had you heard of them?’ Laurence asked, steadying himself; now relieved of the burden of explanation, he felt irrationally offended that someone else had chosen to enlighten Temeraire.

‘Oh, Vindicatus at Loch Laggan told me, for I wondered why the officers were going down to the village when they did not have family there,’ Temeraire said. ‘But you have never gone; are you sure you would not like to?’ he added, almost hopefully.

‘My dear, you must not say such things,’ Laurence said, blushing and shaking with laughter at the same time. ‘It is not a respectable subject for conversation, at all, and if men cannot be prevented from indulging the habit, they at least ought not to be encouraged. I shall certainly speak with Dunne and Collins; they ought not to be bragging about it, and especially not where the ensigns might hear.’

‘I do not understand,’ Temeraire said. ‘Vindicatus said that it was prodigiously nice for men, and also desirable, for otherwise they might like to get married, and that did not sound very pleasant at all. Although if you very much wished to, I suppose I would not mind.’ He made this last speech with very little sincerity, looking at Laurence sideways, as if to gauge the effect.

Laurence’s mirth and embarrassment both faded at once. ‘I am afraid you have been given some very incomplete knowledge,’ he said gently. ‘Forgive me; I ought to have spoken of these matters to you before. I must beg you to have no anxiety: you are my first charge and will always be, even if I should ever marry, and I do not suppose I will.’

He paused a moment to reflect if speaking further would give Temeraire more worry, but in the end he decided to err on the side of full confidence, and added, ‘There was something of an understanding between myself and a lady, before you came to me, but she has since set me at liberty.’

‘Do you mean she has refused you?’ Temeraire said, very indignantly, by way of demonstrating that dragons might be as contrary as men. ‘I am very sorry, Laurence; if you like to get married, I am sure you can find someone else, much nicer.’

‘This is very flattering, but I assure you, I have not the least desire to seek out a replacement,’ Laurence said.

Temeraire ducked his head a little, and made no further demurrals, quite evidently pleased. ‘But Laurence—’ he said, then halted. ‘Laurence,’ he asked, ‘if it is not a fit subject, does that mean I ought not speak of it any more?’

‘You must be careful to avoid it in any wider company, but you may always speak of anything you like to me,’ Laurence said.

‘I am merely curious, now, if that is all there is in Dover,’ Temeraire said. ‘For Roland is too young for whores, is she not?’

‘I am beginning to feel the need of a glass of wine to fortify myself against this conversation,’ Laurence said ruefully.

Thankfully, Temeraire was satisfied with some further explanation of what the theatre and concerts might be, and the other attractions of a city; he turned his attention willingly to a discussion of the planned route for their patrol, which a runner had brought over that morning, and even inquired about the possibility of catching some fish for dinner. Laurence was glad to see him so recovered in spirit after the previous day’s misfortunes, and had just decided that he would take Roland to the town after all, if Temeraire did not object, when he saw her returning in the company of another captain: a woman.

He had been sitting upon Temeraire’s foreleg in what he was abruptly conscious was a state of disarray; he hurriedly climbed down on the far side so that he was briefly hidden by Temeraire’s body. There was no time to put back his coat, which was hung over a tree limb some distance away in any case, but he tucked his shirt back into his trousers and tied his neckcloth hastily back round his neck.

He came around to make his bow, and nearly stumbled as he saw her clearly; she was not unhandsome, but her face was marred badly by a scar that could only have been made by a sword; the left eye drooped a little at the corner where the blade had just missed it, and the flesh was drawn along an angry red line all the way down her face, fading to a thinner white scar along her neck. She was his own age, or perhaps a little older; the scar made it difficult to tell, but in any case she wore the triple bars which marked her as a senior captain, and a small gold medal of the Nile in her lapel.

‘Laurence, is it?’ she said, without waiting for any sort of introduction, while he was still busy striving to conceal his surprise. ‘I am Jane Roland, Excidium’s captain; I would take it as a personal favour if I might have Emily for the evening – if she can possibly be spared.’ She glanced pointedly at the idle cadets and ensigns; her tone was sarcastic, and she was clearly offended.

‘I beg your pardon,’ Laurence said, realizing his mistake. ‘I had thought she wanted liberty to visit the town; I did not realize—’ And here he barely caught himself; he was quite sure they were mother and daughter, not only because of the shared name but also a certain similarity of feature and expression, but he could not simply make the assumption. ‘Certainly you may have her,’ he finished instead.

Hearing his explanation, Captain Roland un bent at once. ‘Ha! I see, what mischief you must have imagined her getting into,’ she said; her laugh was curiously hearty and unfeminine. ‘Well I promise I shan’t let her run wild, and to have her back by eight o’clock. Thank you; Excidium and I have not seen her in almost a year, and we are in danger of forgetting what she looks like.’

Laurence bowed and saw them off; Roland hurrying to keep up with her mother’s long, mannish stride, speaking the whole time in obvious excitement and enthusiasm, and waving her hand towards her friends as she went away. Watching them go, Laurence felt a little foolish; he had at last grown used to Captain Harcourt, and should have been able to draw the natural conclusion. Excidium was after all another Longwing; presumably he too insisted on a female captain just as did Lily, and with his many years of service, his captain could scarcely have avoided battle. Yet Laurence had to own he was surprised, and not a little shocked, to see a woman so cut about and so forward; Harcourt, his only other example of a female captain, was by no means missish, but she was still quite young and conscious of her early promotion, which perhaps made her less assured.

With the subject of marriage so fresh in his mind after his discussion with Temeraire, he also could not help wondering about Emily’s father; if marriage was an awkward proposition for a male aviator, it seemed nearly inconceivable for a female one. The only thing he could imagine was that Emily was natural-born, and as soon as the idea occurred to him he scolded himself to be entertaining such thoughts about a perfectly respectable woman he had just met.

But his involuntary guess proved entirely correct, in the event. ‘I am afraid I have not the slightest idea; I have not seen him in ten years,’ she said, later that evening; she had invited him to join her for a late supper at the officers’ club after bringing Emily back, and after a few glasses of wine he had not been able to resist making a tentative inquiry after the health of Emily’s father. ‘It is not as though we were married, you know; I do not believe he even knows Emily’s name.’

She seemed wholly unconscious of any shame, and after all Laurence had privately felt any more legitimate situation would have been impossible. But he was uncomfortable nevertheless; thankfully, though she noticed, she did not take any offence at it for herself, but rather said kindly, ‘I dare say our ways are still odd to you. But you can marry, if you like, it is not held against you at all in the Corps. It is only that it is rather hard on the other person, always taking second place to a dragon. For my own part, I have never felt anything wanting; I should never have desired children if it were not for Excidium’s sake, although Emily is a dear, and I am very happy to have her. But it was sadly inconvenient, for all that.’

‘So Emily is to follow you as his captain?’ Laurence said. ‘May I ask you, are the dragons, the long-lived ones, I mean, always inherited this way?’

‘When we can manage it; they take it very hard, you see, losing a handler, and they are more likely to accept a new one if it is someone they have some connection to, and who they feel shares their grief,’ she said. ‘So we breed ourselves as much as them; I expect they will be asking you to manage one or two for the Corps yourself.’

‘Good Lord,’ he said, startled by the idea; he had discarded the thought of children with his plans of marriage, from the very moment of Edith’s refusal, and still further gone now that he was aware of Temeraire’s objections; he could not immediately imagine how he might arrange the matter.

‘I suppose it must be rather shocking to you, poor fellow. I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I would offer, but you ought to wait until he is at least ten years old; and in any case I cannot be spared just now.’

Laurence required a moment to understand what she meant, then he snatched up his wineglass with an unsteady hand and endeavoured to conceal his face behind it; he could feel colour rising in his cheeks despite all the will in the world to prevent it. ‘Very kind,’ he said into the cup, strangled half between mortification and laughter; it was not the sort of offer he had ever envisioned receiving, even if it had only half been made.

‘Catherine might do for you by then, however,’ Roland went on, still in that appallingly practical tone. ‘That might do nicely, indeed; you could have one each for Lily and Temeraire.’

‘Thank you!’ he said, very firmly, in desperation trying to change the subject. ‘May I bring you a glass of something to drink?’

‘Oh, yes; port would be splendid, thank you,’ she said. By this time he was beyond being shocked; and when he returned with two glasses and she offered him an already-lit cigar, he shared it with her willingly.

He stayed talking with her for several hours more, until they were the only ones left in the club and the servants were beginning to pointedly stop concealing their yawns. They climbed the stairs together. ‘It is not so very late as all that,’ she said, looking at the handsome great clock at the end of the upper landing. ‘Are you very tired? We might have a hand or two of piquet in my rooms.’

By this time he had begun to be so easy with her that he thought nothing of the suggestion. When he left her at last, very late, to return to his own rooms, a servant was walking down the hall and glanced at him; only then did he consider the propriety of his behaviour and suffer a qualm. But the damage, if any, had already been done; he put it from his mind, and sought his bed at last.

Chapter Ten (#ulink_ea482973-7cf4-5d98-8b41-d665c6ae4dab)

He was sufficiently experienced to no longer be very surprised, the next morning, when he found that their late night had led to no gossip. Instead, Captain Roland hailed him warmly at breakfast and introduced him to her lieutenants without the slightest consciousness, and they walked out to their dragons together.

Laurence saw Temeraire finishing off a hearty breakfast of his own, and took a moment to have a private and forceful word with Collins and Dunne about their indiscretion. He did not mean to go on like a blue-light captain, preaching chastity and temperance all day; still, he did not think it prudish if he preferred his youngsters to have a respectable example before them in the older officers. ‘If you must keep such company, I do not propose to have you making whore-mongers of yourselves, and giving the ensigns and cadets the notion that this is how they ought to behave,’ he said, while the two midwingmen squirmed. Dunne even opened his mouth and looked as though he would rather like to protest, but subsided under Laurence’s very cold stare: that was a degree of insubordination he did not intend to permit.

But having finished the lecture and dismissed them to their work, he found himself a trifle uneasy as he recalled his own behaviour of the previous night was not above reproach. He consoled himself by the reminder that Roland was a fellow-officer; her company could hardly be compared with that of whores, and in any case they had not created any sort of public spectacle, which was at the heart of the matter. The rationalization rang a little hollow, however; and he was glad to distract himself with work: Emily and the two other runners were already waiting by Temeraire’s side with the heavy bags of post that had accumulated for the blockading fleet.

The very strength of the British fleet left the ships on the blockade in strangely isolated circumstances. It was rarely necessary for a dragon to be sent to their assistance; they received all but their most urgent dispatches and supplies by frigate, and so had little opportunity to hear recent news or receive their post. The French might have twenty-one ships in Brest, but they did not dare come out to face the far more skilled British sailors. Without naval support, even a full French heavy-combat wing would not risk a strafing run with the sharpshooters always ready in the tops and the harpoon and pepper guns primed upon the deck. Occasionally there might be an attack at night, usually made by a single nocturnal-breed dragon, but the riflemen often gave as good as they got in such circumstances, and if a full-scale attack were ever launched, a flare signal could easily be seen by the patrolling dragons to the north.

Admiral Lenton had decided to reorder the uninjured dragons of Lily’s formation as necessary from day to day, to both keep the dragons occupied and patrol a somewhat greater extent. Today he had ordered Temeraire to fly point, with Nitidus and Dulcia flanking him: they would trail Excidium’s formation on the first leg of Channel patrol, then break off for a pass over the main squadron of the Channel fleet, currently just off Ushant and blockading the French port of Brest. Emily and the other two runners were already waiting by Temeraire’s side with the heavy bags of post that had accumulated for the fleet.

The morning was so cold and crisp no fog had gathered, the sky sharply brilliant and the water below almost black. Squinting against the glare, Laurence would have liked to imitate the ensigns and midwingmen, who were rubbing black kohl under their eyes, but as point leader, he would be in command of the small group while they were detached, and he would likely be asked aboard to see Admiral Lord Gardner when they landed at the flagship.

Thanks to the weather, it was a pleasant flight, even if not a very smooth one: wind currents seemed to vary unpredictably once they had moved out over the open water, and Temeraire followed some unconscious instinct in rising and falling to catch the best wind. After an hour’s patrol, they reached the point of separation; Captain Roland raised a hand in farewell as Temeraire angled away south and swept past Excidium; the sun was nearly straight overhead, and the ocean glittered beneath them.

‘Laurence, I see the ships ahead,’ Temeraire said, perhaps half an hour later, and Laurence lifted his telescope, having to cup a hand around his eye and squint against the sun before he could see the sails on the water.

‘Well-sighted,’ Laurence called back, and said, ‘give them the private signal if you please, Mr. Turner.’ The signal-ensign began running up the pattern of flags that would mark them as a British party; less of a formality in their case, thanks to Temeraire’s unusual appearance.

Shortly they were sighted and identified; the leading British ship fired a handsome salute of nine guns, more perhaps than was strictly due to Temeraire, as he was not an official formation leader. Whether it was misunderstanding or generosity, Laurence was pleased by the attention, and had the riflemen fire off a return salute as they swept by overhead.