briefly by way of providing for them, but he had too shortly thereafter put himself in no position to be of assistance to anyone.
"Yes, sir," Sipho said in English as perfect as Laurence had ever heard in his life, though less than a year before the child had never heard a word of it. "He is with Arkady, and Captain Berkley says, you are welcome to these, and to come and say hello to Maximus would you, if you are not too damned stiff-necked; he said to say just that," he added earnestly.
"You aren't the only one who owes them," Berkley said, in his blunt way, when Laurence had come and thanked him for assuming the responsibility. "You needn't worry about them being cast off anyway: we need them. They can jaw with those damned ferals, better than any man jack of us; that older boy talks their jabber quicker than he does English. You can worry about their getting knocked on the head instead. I had a fight on my hands to make the Admiralty let me keep this one grounded for now: they would have put him up as an ensign, if you like; not nine years of age. Demane they would have no matter what I said, but that is just as well. Fights," he added succinctly, "so he may as well do it against the Frogs, where it don't get him in hot water."
Maximus was much recovered, from the last Laurence had seen him: three months of steady feeding on shore had brought him nearly up to his former fighting weight, and he put his head down and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Tell Temeraire that Lily and I have not forgotten our promise, and we are ready to fight with him whenever he should ask; we will not let them hang you, at all."
Laurence stared up at the immense Regal Copper. All his crew looked deeply distressed, as well they might, the outlaw remark being perfectly audible several clearings over. Berkley only snorted. "There has been plenty of talk like that, and louder," he said. "I expect that is why you have been kept stuffed between decks in a ship instead of a decent prison on land. No, don't beg my pardon. It was sure as sixpence you and that mad beast of yours would make a spectacle of yourselves soon or late. Bring him back, do for a dozen Frogs, and save us all the bother of the execution."
With this sanguine if unlikely recommendation, Laurence reported to the courier-clearing with his orders, looking a little less shabby: Berkley was a thickset man, but if the borrowed coat was too large at least it could be got on, and with a little padding of straw at the toes, the boots were entirely serviceable. His repaired appearance got him no better treatment, however. There were a dozen beasts waiting for messages and orders, but when Laurence had presented himself, the courier-master said, "If you will be so good as to wait," and left him outside the clearing. Laurence was near enough to see the master talking with his officers; none of the courier-captains looked very inclined to take him up. He was left standing an hour, while four messages came in and were sent out, before another Winchester landed bringing fresh orders from the Admiralty, and at last the courier-master came and said, "Very well; we have a man to take you."
"Morning, sir," the captain said, touching his hat, as Laurence came over: Hollin, his former ground-crew master. "Elsie, will you give the captain a leg up? There is a strap there, sir, handy for you."
"Thank you, Hollin," Laurence said, grateful for the steady matter-of-factness, and climbed up to her back. "We are for Pen Y Fan."
"Right you are, sir, we know the way," Hollin said. "Do you need a bite to sup, Elsie, before we go?"
"No," she said, raising her head dripping from the water-trough. "They always have lovely cows there, I will wait."
They did not speak very much during the flight. Winchesters were so small and quick one felt always on the point of flying off on one's own, the force of the wind steadily testing the limits of the carabiner straps, and Laurence's hands, already blistered, grew bruised where he held on to the leather harness. They raced past blurring fields of brown stalks and snow, the thin cold air chapping at their faces and leaking down into the neck of Laurence's coat,