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

Laurence frowned; this was the third naturalist he had consulted over the past week since landing in Madeira, and none of them had been able to give him any help whatsoever in determining Temeraire’s breed.

‘However,’ the bookseller went on, ‘I can give you some hope; Sir Edward Howe of the Royal Society is here on the island, taking the waters; he came by my shop last week. I believe he is staying in Porto Moniz, at the northwestern end of the island, and I am sure he will be able to identify your dragon for you; he has written several monographs on rare breeds from the Americas and the Orient.’

‘Thank you very much indeed; I am glad to hear it,’ Laurence said, brightening at this news; the name was familiar to him, and he had met the man in London once or twice, so that he need not even scramble for an introduction.

He went back out into the street in good humour, with a fine map of the island and a book on mineralogy for Temeraire. The day was particularly fine, and the dragon was presently sprawled out in the field which had been set aside for him some distance outside the city, sunning himself after a large meal.

The governor had been more accommodating than Admiral Croft, perhaps due to the anxiety of his populace over the presence of a frequently-hungry dragon in the middle of their port, and had opened the public treasury to provide Temeraire with a steady supply of sheep and cattle. Temeraire was not at all unhappy with the change in his diet, and he was continuing to grow; he would no longer have fit on the Reliant’s stern, and he was bidding fair to become longer than the ship itself. Laurence had taken a cottage beside the field, at small expense due to its owner’s sudden eagerness to be nowhere nearby, and the two of them were managing quite happily.

He regretted his own final removal from the ship’s life when he had time to think of it, but keeping Temeraire exercised was a great deal of work, and he could always go into the town for his dinner. He often met Riley or some of his other officers; he had some other naval acquaintances in the town as well, and so he rarely passed a solitary evening. The nights were comfortable as well, even though he was obliged to return to the cottage early due to the distance; he had found a local servant, Fernao, who, although wholly unsmiling and taciturn, was not disturbed by the dragon and could prepare a reasonable breakfast and supper.

Temeraire generally slept during the heat of the day, while he was gone, and woke again after the sun had set; after supper Laurence would go to sit outside and read to him by the light of a lantern. He had never been a great reader himself, but Temeraire’s pleasure in books was so great as to be infectious, and Laurence could not but think with satisfaction of the dragon’s likely delight in the new book, which spoke in great detail about gemstones and their mining, despite his own complete lack of interest in the subject. It was not the sort of life which he had ever expected to lead, but so far, at least, he had not suffered in any material way from his change of status, and Temeraire was developing into uncommonly good company.

Laurence stopped in a coffeehouse and wrote Sir Edward a quick note with his direction, briefly explaining his circumstances and asking for permission to call. This he addressed to Porto Moniz, then sent off with the establishment’s postboy, adding a half-crown to speed it along. He could have flown across the island much more quickly, of course, but he did not feel he could simply descend upon someone without warning and with a dragon in tow. He could wait; he still had at least a week of liberty left to him before a reply would come from Gibraltar with instructions on how to report for duty.

But the dispatch rider was due tomorrow, and the thought recalled him to an omitted duty: he had not yet written to his father. He could not let his parents learn of his altered circumstances from some secondhand account, or in the Gazette notice which should surely be printed, and with a sense of reluctant obligation he settled himself back down with a fresh pot of coffee to write the necessary letter.

It was difficult to think what to say. Lord Allendale was not a particularly fond parent, and punctilious in his manners. The Army and Navy he thought barely acceptable alternatives to the Church for an impoverished younger son; he would no more have considered sending a son to the Corps than to a trade, and he would certainly neither sympathize nor approve. Laurence was well aware that he and his father disagreed on the score of duty; his father would certainly tell him it had been his duty to his name to stay well away from the dragon, and to leave some misguided idea of service out of the matter.

His mother’s reaction he dreaded more; for she had real affection for him, and the news would make her unhappy for his sake. Then, also, she was friendly with Lady Galman, and what he wrote would certainly reach Edith’s ears. But he could not write in such terms as might reassure either of them without provoking his father extremely; and so he contented himself with a stilted, formal note that laid out the facts without embellishment, and avoided all appearance of complaint. It would have to do; still he sealed it with a sense of dissatisfaction before carrying it to the dispatch post by hand.

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.