“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. “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