each time Temeraire rose up with yet another tunny wriggling in his claws, and several of them even sought permission to climb below, the better to be splashed as Temeraire made his catch.
Thoroughly glutted and flying somewhat more slowly back towards the coast, Temeraire hummed in happiness and contentment, turned his head around to look at Laurence with bright-eyed gratitude, and said, “Has this not been a pleasant day? It has been a long time since we have had such splendid flying,” and Laurence found that he had no anger left to conceal in making his reply.
The lamps throughout the covert were just coming alight, like great fireflies against the darkness of the scattered trees, the ground crews moving among them with their torches even as Temeraire made his descent. Most of the younger officers were still soaking wet and beginning to shiver as they climbed down from Temeraire’s warm bulk; Laurence dismissed them to their rest and stood watch with Temeraire himself while the ground crew finished unharnessing him. Hollin looked at him a little reproachfully as the men brought down the neck and shoulder harnesses, encrusted with fish scales, bones, and entrails, and already beginning to stink.
Temeraire was too pleased and well-fed for Laurence to feel apologetic; he only said cheerfully, “I am afraid we have made some heavy work for you, Mr. Hollin, but at least he will not need feeding tonight.”
“Aye, sir,” Hollin said gloomily, and marshaled his men to the task.
The harness removed and his hide washed down by the crew, who by this time had formed the technique of passing buckets along rather like a fire brigade to clean him after his meals, Temeraire yawned enormously, belched, and sprawled out upon the ground with so self-satisfied an expression that Laurence laughed at him. “I must go and deliver these dispatches,” he said. “Will you sleep, or shall we read this evening?”
“Forgive me, Laurence, I think I am too sleepy,” Temeraire said, yawning again. “Laplace is difficult to follow even when I am quite awake, and I do not want to risk misunderstanding.”
As Laurence had enough difficulty for his own part merely in pronouncing the French of Laplace’s treatise on celestial mechanics well enough for Temeraire to comprehend, without making any effort to himself grasp the principles he was reading aloud, he was perfectly willing to believe this. “Very well, my dear; I will see you in the morning, then,” he said, and stood stroking Temeraire’s nose until the dragon’s eyes had slid shut, and his breathing had evened out into slumber.
Admiral Lenton received the dispatches and the verbal message with frowning concern. “I do not like it in the least, not in the least,” he said. “Working inland, is he? Laurence, could he be building more boats on shore, planning to add to his fleet without our knowing?”
“Some awkward transports he might perhaps be able to make, sir, but never ships-of-the-line,” Laurence said at once, with perfect certainty on the subject. “And he already has a great many transports, in every port along the coastline; it is difficult to conceive that he might require more.”
“And all this is around Cherbourg, not Calais, though the distance is greater, and our fleet is closer by. I cannot account for it, but Gardner is quite right; I am damned sure he means mischief, and he cannot very well do it until his fleet is here.” Abruptly he stood and walked straight from the office; unsure whether to take this as a dismissal, Laurence followed him through the headquarters and outside, to the clearing where Lily was lying in her recovery.
Captain Harcourt was sitting by Lily’s head, stroking her foreleg, over and over; Choiseul was with her and reading quietly to them both. Lily’s eyes were still dull with pain, but in a more encouraging sign, she had evidently just eaten whole food at last, for there was a great heap of cracked bones still being cleared away by the ground crew.
Choiseul put down his book and said a quiet word to Harcourt, then came to them. “She is almost asleep; I beg you not to stir her,” he said, very softly.
Lenton nodded and beckoned him and Laurence both further away. “How does she progress?” he asked.
“Very well, sir, according to the surgeons; they say she heals as quickly as could be hoped,” Choiseul said. “Catherine has not left her side.”
“Good, good,” Lenton said. “Three weeks, then, if their original estimate holds true. Well, gentlemen, I have changed