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 harbor, 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 dragon-like himself, and 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 service 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