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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You are very kind, sir,’ Laurence said formally, bowing. The compliment had not been a natural one, but he could see that the rest of the remark was meant sincerely enough, and it made perfect sense. Certainly Temeraire would do better in the hands of a trained aviator, a fellow who would handle him properly, the same way a ship would do better in the hands of a real seaman. It had been wholly an accident that Temeraire had been settled upon him, and now that he knew the truly extraordinary nature of the dragon, it was even more obvious that Temeraire deserved a partner with an equal degree of skill. ‘Of course you would prefer a trained man in the position if at all possible, and I am happy if I have been of any service. Shall I take Mr. Dayes to Temeraire now?’

‘No!’ Dayes said sharply, only to fall silent at a look from Portland.

Portland answered more politely, ‘No, thank you, Captain; on the contrary, we prefer to proceed exactly as if the dragon’s handler had died, to keep the procedure as close as possible to the set methods which we have devised for accustoming the creature to a new handler. It would be best if you did not see the dragon again at all.’

That was a blow. Laurence almost argued, but in the end he closed his mouth and only bowed again. If it would make the process of transition easier, it was only his duty to keep away.

Still, it was very unpleasant to think of never seeing Temeraire again; he had made no fare well, said no last kind words, and to simply stay away felt like a desertion. Sorrow weighed on him heavily as he left the Commendable, and it had not dissipated by evening; he was meeting Riley and Wells for dinner, and when he came into the parlour of the hotel where they were waiting for him, it was an effort to give them a smile and say, ‘Well, gentlemen, it seems you are not to be rid of me after all.’