of his sight and several months before, were not quite satisfactory. "That is an ugly hill," he added, "and that one, also; I do not like them," inclined to be displeased even with the landscape, when ordinarily he was mad for anything out of the common way, and would point out anything of the most meager interest to Laurence's attention, with delight.
The hills were odd; irregular and richly covered with grass, they drew the eye queerly as they went overhead. "Oh," said Emily suddenly, on the forward lookout, craning her head over Temeraire's shoulder to look down at them, and shut her mouth hurriedly in embarrassment at the solecism of having spoken without a warning to give. Temeraire's wingbeats slowed. "Oh," he said.
The valley was full of them: not hills but barrow-mounds, raised over the dragon-corpses where they had breathed their last. Here and there an outthrust horn or spike came jutting from the sod; or a little fall of dirt had bared the white curve of a jaw-bone. No one spoke; Laurence saw Allen reach down and close his hands around the jingle of his carabiners, where they hooked on to the harness. They flew on silently, above the verdant deserted green, Temeraire's shadow flowing and rippling over the spines and hollows of the dead.
They were still quiet when Temeraire came in to the London covert, and the little unpacking necessary carried on subdued: the men carried the bundles to be stacked at the side of the clearing, and went back for others; the harness-men had none of their usual cheerful squabbling over who was to manage the belly-netting, but in silence Winston and Porter went to it together. "Mr. Ferris," Laurence said, voice deliberately raised, "when we are in reasonable order, you may give a general leave, through tomorrow dinner; barring any pressing duties."
"Yes, sir; thank you," Ferris said, trying to match his tone; it did not quite take, but the work went a little more briskly, and Laurence was confident a night's revelry would soon finish the work of rousing the men out of the sense of oppression.
He went and stood at Temeraire's head, putting his hand comfortingly on his muzzle. "I am glad it was useful," Temeraire said, low, and slumped more deeply to the ground.
"Come; I would have you eat something," Laurence said. "A little dinner; and then I will read to you, if you like."
Temeraire did not find much consolation in philosophy, or even mathematics; and he picked at his food until, pricking up his ruff, he raised his head and put a protective forehand over his cow, and Volly came tumbling into the clearing, kicking up a furious hovering cloud of dust behind him.
"Temrer," Volly said happily, and butted him in the shoulder, then immediately cast a wistful eye on the cow.
"Don't be taken in," James said, sliding down from his back. "Fed not a quarter-of-an-hour ago, while I was waiting for the mails in Hyde Park, and a perfectly handsome sheep, too. How are you, Laurence? Tolerably brown, I find. Here's for you, if you please."
Laurence gladly accepted the parcel of letters for his crew, with one on top, to his personal direction. "Mr. Ferris," he said, handing the packet over, to be distributed. "Thank you, James; I hope we find you well?"
Volly did not look so bad as Meeks's report might have made Laurence fear, if with a degree of rough scarring around the nostrils, and a slightly raspy voice. It did not inhibit him from rambling happily on to Temeraire, with an enumeration of the sheep and goats which he had lately eaten, and a recounting of his triumph at having sired, early in the recent disaster, an egg, himself. "Why, that is very good," Temeraire said. "When will it hatch?"
"Novembrer," Volly said delightedly.
"He will say so," James said, "although the surgeons have no notion; it hasn't hardened a tick yet, and it would be early. But the blessed creatures do seem to know, sometimes, so they are looking out a likely boy for the thing."
They were bound for India, "Tomorrow, or the day after, maybe; if the weather keeps fair," James said airily.
Temeraire cocked his head. "Captain James, do you suppose that you might carry a letter for me? To China," he added.
James scratched his head to receive such a request; Temeraire was unique among British dragons, so far as Laurence knew, in writing letters; indeed, not many aviators managed the habit themselves. "I can take it to Bombay,"