Tongues of Serpents Page 0,28

making plans for the use of his future wealth. "You could not wish to remain here, instead?" Temeraire said. "Not, of course, that I mean to suggest there is anything wrong here," he added unconvincingly.

The mornings and late evenings were now the only and scarcely bearable times of day, and they had begun to stretch them with early rising and late nights; the sun was only just up, spilling a broad swath of light across the water running into all the bays of the harbor, making them glow out brilliantly white against the dark curve of the land rising away, blackish green and silent. Temeraire had not eaten in two days: the stretch was not markedly unhealthy, given his inaction, but Laurence feared it was due largely to a secret disdain for his food, the regrettable consequence of Temeraire's having grown nice in his tastes, a grave danger for a military man - and there Laurence was forced again to the recollection that they were neither of them military, any longer.

Even so, there was an advantage to a stronger stomach: he himself, subject to shipboard provisions during the most ravenous years of his life, could subsist on weeviled biscuit and salt pork indefinitely; even though he had not often had to endure those conditions. Temeraire had too early in his life developed a finicky palate; Gong Su had done what was in his power, but he had made quite clear one could not turn a lean, scrub-fed game animal, half bone and sinew and anatomical oddities, into a fat and nicely marbled piece of beef; Laurence was considering if his finances could stretch to the provision of some cattle, at least for a treat.

"There is Caesar's breakfast," Temeraire said, with a sigh, as the mournful lowing of a cow came towards them from the bottom of the hill; but when it was brought up, by an only slightly less reluctant youth, he delivered it not to Caesar but to them, stammering compliments of Mr. MacArthur, and for Laurence there was an invitation card, asking him to supper.

"I wonder he should make such a gesture," Laurence said, rather taken aback; one thing for MacArthur to bring himself to the covert - however irregularly organized, still in the nature of an official outpost - and quite another to invite Laurence to his home, in mixed company likely overseen by his wife. "I wonder at it indeed; unless," he added, low, "he has had some intelligence of Rankin's interest in Bligh's case: that might make sufficient motive even for this."

"Umm," Temeraire said indistinctly, nibbling around a substantial thigh-bone; his attention was fixed notably on Gong Su's enthusiastic preparations: the cow had been butchered, and was going into the earth with what greenstuffs had passed muster, and some cracked wheat; even Caesar had peeled open an eye and was looking over with covert interest.

The hour was fixed sufficiently late they could wait until the heat of the day had passed and travel at the beginning of twilight; Temeraire, having made a splendid meal, carried Laurence aloft into the softening but yet unbroken blue: no clouds, yet again, all the day. What would have made an hour's journey on horse, across rough country, was an easy ten minutes' flight dragon-back, and there was a wide fallow field open near the house, where Temeraire could set down.

"Pray thank him for my cow," Temeraire said, contentedly settling himself to nap. "It was very handsome of him, and I do not think he is a coward anymore, after all."

Laurence crossed the field to the house, and paused to knock the dirt from his boots before he stepped into the lane: he had worn trousers, and Hessians, more suitable to flying; but in concession to the invitation, he had made an effort with his cravat, and put on his better coat. A groom came out, and looked about confused for Laurence's horse before pointing him to the door: the house was comfortable but not especially grand, built practically and made for work, but there was an elegance and taste in the arrangements.

He was shown into the salon, and a company heavily slanted: only four women to seven men, most of those in officers' uniforms; one of the women rose, as Mr. MacArthur came to join him, and he presented her to Laurence as his wife, Elizabeth.

"I hope you will forgive the informality of our society, Mr. Laurence," she said, when he had bowed over her hand. "We are grown