Black Powder War. Naomi Novik

      ‘Eat your ration,’ Laurence said sternly, when he saw Roland and Dyer putting down their strips of meat half-eaten: they were all hungry, but the long chewing was painful in a dry mouth, and every sip of water now had to be stolen from Temeraire’s casks; another long day had gone, and still they had found no well. Temeraire had eaten his camel raw, so as not to lose any of the moisture in cooking: only seven left, now.

      Two days later they stumbled across a dry, cracked irrigation channel, and on Tharkay’s advice turned northwards to follow its path, hoping to find some water still at its source. The wizened and twisted remains of dead fruit trees still overhung the sides, their small gnarled branches dry as paper to the touch, and as light, reaching for the vanished water. The city took shape out of the desert haze as they rode onwards: shattered timbers jutting out of the sand, sharpened by years of wind into pointed stakes; broken pieces of mud-and-wattle bricks; the last remnants of buildings swallowed by the desert. The bed of the river that had once given life to the city was filled with fine dust; there was nothing living in sight but some brown desert grass clinging to the tops of dunes, which the camels hungrily devoured.

      Another day’s journey would put them beyond the hope of turning back. ‘I am afraid this is a bad part of the desert, but we will find water soon,’ Tharkay said, bringing an armful of old broken timbers to the campfire. ‘It is just as well we have found the city; we must be on an old caravan route now.’

      Their fire leapt and crackled brightly, the dry seasoned wood going up hot and quick; the warmth and light was comforting in the midst of the ashes and broken relics of the city, but Laurence walked away brooding. His maps were useless, there were no marked roads, nothing to be seen in any direction for miles; and his patience was badly frayed at seeing Temeraire go hungry and thirsty: ‘Pray do not worry, Laurence, I am very well,’ Temeraire had assured him; but he had not been able to keep his eyes from lingering on the remaining camels, and it hurt Laurence to see how quickly he tired, each day, with his tail now often dragging upon the sand: he did not wish to fly, but plodded along in the wake of the camels, and lay down often to rest.

      If they turned back in the morning, Temeraire could eat and drink his fill; they might even load two of the water-casks upon him, slaughter an additional camel for him to carry, and try to make Cherchen by air. Laurence thought two days’ flight would see them there, if Temeraire went lightly burdened and had food and water enough. He would take the youngest of the crew: Roland and Dyer and the ensigns, who would slow the others down on the ground and need less water and food for Temeraire to carry; though he would not like leaving the rest of the men, by his calculation the water carried by the last four camels would be just sufficient to see them back to Cherchen by land, if they could manage twenty miles in a day.

      Money would then present difficulties: he did not have so much silver he could afford to purchase another great string of camels even if the beasts could be found, but perhaps someone might be found who would take the risk of accepting a note on the strength of his word, offered at an exorbitant rate; or they might exchange some labour: there did not seem to be dragons living in the desert towns, and Temeraire’s strength could accomplish many tasks quickly. In the worst case, he might pry the gold and gems off the hilt of his sword, to be later replaced, and sell the porcelain vase if he could find a taker. God only knew how much delay it would all mean: weeks if not a month, and many fresh risks taken; Laurence took his turn at watch and went to sleep still undecided, unhappy, and woke with Granby shaking him in the early morning, before dawn: ‘Temeraire hears something: horses, he thinks.’

      The light crept along the crests of the low dunes just outside the town: a knot of men on shaggy, short-legged ponies, keeping a good distance; even as Laurence and Granby watched, another five or six rode up onto the top of the dune to join them: carrying short curved sabres, and some others with bows. ‘Strike the tents, and get the camels hobbled,’ Laurence said grimly. ‘Digby, take Roland and Dyer and the other ensigns and stay by them: you must not let them run off. Have the men form up around the supplies; backs to that wall, over there, the broken one,’ he added to Granby.

      Temeraire was sitting up on his haunches. ‘Are we going to have a battle?’ he asked, with less alarm than eager anticipation. ‘Those horses look tasty.’

      ‘I mean to be ready, and let them see it, but we are not going to strike first,’ Laurence said. ‘They have not threatened us yet; and in any case, we had much better buy their help than fight them. We will send to them under a flag of truce. Where is Tharkay?’

      Tharkay was gone: the eagle also, and one of the camels, and no one remembered seeing him go. Laurence was conscious at first of only shock, more profound than he ought to have felt, having been suspicious. The sensation yielded to a cold savage anger, and dread: they had been drawn just far enough that the camel stolen meant they could not turn back to Cherchen; and the bright beacon of the fire, last night, perhaps had drawn down this hostile attention.

      With an effort he said, ‘Very well; Mr. Granby, if any of the men know a little Chinese, let them come with me under the flag; we will see if we can manage to make ourselves understood.’

      ‘You cannot go yourself,’ Granby said, instantly protective; but events obviated any need for debate on the matter: abruptly the horsemen wheeled around as one and rode away, vanishing into the dunes, the ponies whinnying with relief.

      ‘Oh,’ Temeraire said, disappointed, and drooped back down onto all fours; the rest of them stood uncertainly a while, still alert, but the horsemen did not reappear. ‘Laurence,’ Granby said quietly, ‘they know this ground, I expect, and we do not; if they mean to have at us and they have any sense, they will go away and wait for tonight. Once we have encamped, they can be on us before we know they are there, and maybe even do Temeraire some mischief. We oughtn’t let them just slip away.’

      ‘And more to the point,’ Laurence said, ‘those horses were not carrying any great deal of water.’

      The soft dented hoofprints led them a wary trail west and southwards, climbing over a series of hills; a little hot wind came into their faces as they walked, and the camels made low eager moaning noises and quickened their pace unasked: over the next rise the narrow green tops of poplar trees came unexpectedly into view, waving, beckoning them on over the rise.

      The oasis, hidden in a sheltered cleft, looked only another small brackish pool, mostly mud, but desperately welcome for all that. The horsemen were there gathering on the far edge, their ponies milling around nervously and rolling their eyes as Temeraire approached, and among them was Tharkay, with the missing camel. He rode up to them as if unconscious of any wrong, and said to Laurence, ‘They told me of having seen you; I am glad you thought to follow.’

      ‘Are you?’ Laurence said.

      That stopped him a moment; he looked at Laurence, and the corner of his mouth twisted upwards a little; then he said, ‘Follow me,’ and led them, their hands still full of pistols and swords, around the edges of the meandering pond: clinging to the side of one grassy dune was a great domed structure built of long narrow mud bricks, the same pale straw colour as the yellowed grass, with a single arched opening looking in, and a small window in the opposite wall which presently let in a shaft of sunlight to play upon the dark and shining pool of water that filled the interior. ‘You can widen the sardoba opening for him to drink, only be careful you do not bring down the roof,’ Tharkay said.

      Laurence kept a guard facing the horsemen across the oasis, with Temeraire at their backs, and set the armourer Pratt to work with a couple of the taller midwingmen to help. With his heavy mallet and some pry-bars they shortly had tapped away more bricks from the sides of the ragged opening: it was only just large enough before Temeraire had gratefully plunged in his snout to drink, great swallows going down his throat; he lifted his muzzle out dripping wet and licked even the drops away with his long narrow forking tongue. ‘Oh, how very nice and cool it is,’ he said, with much relief.

      ‘They are packed with snow during the winter,’ Tharkay said. ‘Most have fallen into disuse and are now left empty, but I hoped we might find one here. These men are from Yutien: we are on the Khotan road, and in four more days we will reach the city: Temeraire can eat as he likes, there is no