their beasts to keep themselves clean, and as he rubbed down the sleek black sides, he suddenly considered the harness. “Temeraire, does this chafe you at all?” he asked, touching the straps.
“Oh, not very often now,” Temeraire said, turning his head to look. “My hide is getting a great deal tougher; and when it does bother me I can shift it a little, and then it is better straightaway.”
“My dear, I am covered with shame,” Laurence said. “I ought never have kept you in it; from now on you shall not wear it for an instant while it is not necessary for our flying together.”
“But is it not required, like your clothing?” Temeraire said. “I would not like anyone to think I was not civilized.”
“I shall get you a larger chain to wear about your neck, and that will serve,” Laurence said, thinking of the golden collar Celeritas wore. “I am not going to have you suffering for a custom that so far as I can tell is nothing but laziness; and I am of a mind to complain of it in the strongest terms to the next admiral I see.”
He was as good as his word and stripped the harness from Temeraire the moment they landed in the courtyard. Temeraire looked a little nervously at the other dragons, who had been watching with interest from the moment the two of them had returned with Temeraire still dripping from the lake. But none of them seemed shocked, only curious, and once Laurence had detached the gold-and-pearl chain and wrapped it around one of Temeraire’s talons, rather like a ring, Temeraire relaxed entirely and settled back down on the warm flagstones. “It is more pleasant not to have it on; I had not realized how it would be,” he confided quietly to Laurence, and scratched at a darkened spot on his hide where a buckle had rested and crushed together several scales into a callus.
Laurence paused in cleaning the harness and stroked him in apology. “I do beg your forgiveness,” he said, looking at the galled spot with remorse. “I will try and find a poultice for these marks.”
“I want mine off, too,” chirped one of the Winchesters suddenly, and flitted down from Maximus’s back to land in front of Laurence. “Will you, please?”
Laurence hesitated; it did not seem right to him to handle another man’s beast. “I think perhaps your own handler is the only one who ought to remove it,” he said. “I do not like to give offense.”
“He has not come for three days,” the Winchester said sadly, his small head drooping; he was only about the size of a couple of draft horses, and his shoulder barely topped Laurence’s head. Looking more closely, Laurence could see his hide was marked with streaks of dried blood, and the harness did not look particularly clean or well-kept, unlike those of the other dragons; it bore stains and rough patches.
“Come here, and let me have a look at you,” Laurence said quietly, as he took up the linens, still wet from the lake, and began to clean the little dragon.
“Oh, thank you,” the Winchester said, leaning happily into the cloth. “My name is Levitas,” he added shyly.
“I am Laurence, and this is Temeraire,” Laurence said.
“Laurence is my captain,” Temeraire said, the smallest hint of belligerence in his tone, and an emphasis on the possessive; Laurence looked up at him in surprise, and paused in his cleaning to pat Temeraire’s side. Temeraire subsided, but watched with his pupils narrowed to thin slits while Laurence finished.
“Shall I see if I cannot find what has happened to your handler?” he told Levitas with a final pat. “Perhaps he is not feeling well, but if so I am sure he will be well soon.”
“Oh, I do not think he is sick,” Levitas said, with that same sadness. “But that feels much better already,” he added, and rubbed his head gratefully against Laurence’s shoulder.
Temeraire gave a low displeased rumble and flexed his talons against the stone; with an alarmed chirp, Levitas flew straightaway up to Maximus’s back and nestled down small against the other Winchester again. Laurence turned to Temeraire. “Come now, what is this jealousy?” he said softly. “Surely you cannot begrudge him a little cleaning when his handler is neglecting him.”
“You are mine,” Temeraire said obstinately. After a moment, however, he ducked his head in a shamefaced way and added in a smaller voice, “He would be easier to clean.”