Temeraire. Naomi Novik

should like to point out that Mr. Riley has been in command of the Reliant since the harnessing, and that he has handled her exceptionally well, bringing her safely to port through a two-days’ gale,’ Laurence said. ‘He fought very bravely in the action which won us the prize, as well.’

      ‘Oh, I am sure, I am sure,’ Croft said, turning his finger in circles again. ‘Who do you have in the Amitié?’

      ‘My first lieutenant, Gibbs,’ Laurence said.

      ‘Yes, of course,’ Croft said. ‘Well, it is a bit much of you to hope to make both your first and second lieutenants post in such a way, Laurence, you must see that. There are not so many fine frigates out there.’

      Laurence had great difficulty in keeping his countenance; the man was clearly looking for some excuse to give himself a plum to deal out to one of his own favourites. ‘Sir,’ he said, icily, ‘I do not quite take your meaning; I hope you are not suggesting that I had myself put in harness in order to open a vacancy. I assure you my only motive was to secure to England a very valuable dragon, and I would hope that their Lordships will see it in such a way.’

      It was as close as he would come to harping on his own sacrifice, and a good deal closer than he would have preferred to come, without Riley’s welfare at stake. But it had its effect; Croft seemed struck by the reminder, and the mention of the Admiralty; at least he hemmed and hawed and retreated, and dismissed them without saying anything final about removing Riley from command.

      ‘Sir, I am deeply indebted to you,’ Riley said, as they walked together back towards the ship. ‘I only hope you will not have caused difficulties for yourself by pressing the matter so; I suppose he must have a great deal of influence.’

      Laurence at the moment had little room for any emotion but relief, for they had come to their own dock, and Temeraire was still sitting on the deck of the ship; although that looked more like an abattoir at the moment, and the area around his chops more red than black. The crowd of spectators had entirely dispersed. ‘If there is any blessing to the whole business, Tom, it is that I no longer need to give much thought to influence; I do not suppose it can make any difference to an aviator,’ he answered. ‘Pray have no concern for me. Should you mind if we were to walk a little faster? I think he has finished eating.’

      Flying did a great deal more to soothe his ruffled temper; it was impossible to be angry with the whole island of Madeira spread out before him and the wind in his hair, and Temeraire excitedly pointing out new things of interest, such as animals, houses, carts, trees, rocks, and anything else which might catch his eye; he had lately worked out a method of flying with his head partly turned round, so that he might talk to Laurence even while they flew. By mutual agreement, he perched at last upon an empty road that ran along at the edge of a deep valley; a bank of clouds was rolling thickly down the green southern slopes, clinging to the ground in a peculiar way, and he sat to watch their movement in fascination.

      Laurence dismounted; he was still growing used to riding and was glad to stretch his legs after an hour in the air. He walked about for a while now, enjoying the view, and thought to himself that the next morning he would bring something to eat and drink on their flight; he would rather have liked a sandwich, and a glass of wine.

      ‘I would like another one of those lambs,’ Temeraire said, echoing his own thoughts. ‘They were very tasty. Can I eat those over there? They look even larger.’

      There was a handsome flock of sheep grazing placidly on the far side of the valley, white against the green. ‘No, Temeraire; those are sheep, mutton,’ Laurence said. ‘They are not as good, and I think they must be someone’s property, so we cannot go snatching them. But perhaps I will see if I cannot arrange for the shepherd to set one aside for you for tomorrow, if you would like to come back here.’

      ‘It seems very strange that the ocean is full of things that one can eat as one likes, and on land everything seems to be spoken for,’ Temeraire said, disappointed. ‘It does not seem quite right; they are not eating those sheep themselves, after all, and I am hungry now.’

      ‘Oh Lord, Temeraire, don’t talk that way, or I suppose I shall be arrested for teaching you seditious thinking,’ Laurence said, amused. ‘It sounds positively revolutionary. Only think, perhaps the fellow who owns those is the same one we will ask to give us a nice lamb for your dinner tonight; he will hardly do so if we steal his sheep now.’

      ‘I would rather have a nice lamb now,’ Temeraire muttered, but he did not go after one of the sheep, and instead returned to examining the clouds. ‘May we go over to those clouds? I would like to see why they are moving like that.’

      Laurence looked at the shrouded hillside dubiously, but he more and more disliked telling the dragon no when he did not have to; it was so often necessary. ‘We may try it if you like,’ he said, ‘but it seems a little risky; we could easily run up against the mountainside and be brought by the lee.’

      ‘Oh, I will land below them, and then we may walk up,’ Temeraire said, crouching low and putting his neck to the ground so Laurence could scramble back aboard. ‘That will be more interesting in any case.’

      It was a little odd to go walking with a dragon, and very odd to outdistance one; Temeraire might take one step to every ten paces of Laurence’s, but he took them very rarely, being more occupied in looking back and forth to compare the degree of cloud cover upon the ground. Laurence finally walked some distance ahead and threw himself down upon the slope to wait; even under the heavy fog, he was comfortable, thanks to the heavy clothing and oilskin cloak which he had learned from experience to wear while flying.

      Temeraire continued to creep very slowly up the hill, interrupting his studies of the clouds now and again to look at a flower, or a pebble; to Laurence’s surprise, he paused at one point and dug a small rock out of the ground, which he then brought up to Laurence with apparent excitement, pushing it along with the tip of a talon, as it was too small for him to pick up in his claws.

      Laurence hefted the thing, which was about the size of his fist; it certainly was curious-looking, pyrite intergrown with quartz crystal and rock. ‘How did you come to see it?’ he said, with interest, turning it over in his hands and brushing away more of the dirt.

      ‘A little of it was out of the ground and it was shining,’ Temeraire said. ‘Is that gold? I like the look of it.’

      ‘No, it is just pyrite, but it is very pretty, is it not? I suppose you are one of those hoarding creatures,’ Laurence said, looking affectionately up at Temeraire; many dragons had an inborn fascination with jewels or precious metals. ‘I am afraid I am not rich enough a partner for you; I will not be able to give you a heap of gold to sleep on.’

      ‘I should rather have you than a heap of gold, even if it were very comfortable to sleep on,’ Temeraire said. ‘I do not mind the deck.’

      He said it quite normally, not in the least as though he meant to deliver a compliment, and immediately went back to looking at his clouds; Laurence was left gazing after him in a sensation of mingled amazement and extraordinary pleasure. He could scarcely imagine a similar feeling; the only parallel he could conceive from his old life would be if the Reliant had spoken to say she liked to have him for her captain: both praise and affection, from the highest source imaginable, and it filled him with fresh determination to prove worthy of the encomium.

      ‘I am afraid I cannot help you, sir,’ the old fellow said, scratching behind his ear as he straightened up from the heavy volume before him. ‘I have a dozen books of draconic breeds, and I cannot find him in any of them. Perhaps his colouration will change when he gets older?’

      Laurence frowned; this was the third naturalist he had consulted over the past week since landing in Madeira, and none of them had been able to give him any help whatsoever in determining Temeraire’s breed.

      ‘However,’ the bookseller went on, ‘I can give you some hope; Sir Edward Howe of the Royal Society is here on the island, taking the waters; he came by my shop last week. I believe he is staying in Porto Moniz, at the northwestern end of the island, and I am sure he will be able to