Blood of Tyrants (29 page)

They had gone nearly ten hours straight, without a pause; but even as Laurence spoke, abruptly General Chu and the Jade Dragons turned their course and began to descend gradually from the sky towards a pavilion, its eaves hanging with shining white lanterns and a thin trailing column of smoke rising from the roof, and they came to ground in a broad hard-packed courtyard before it.

There was a splendidly appetizing smell of roasted pig coming from within. The Jade Dragons stepped aside and bowed their heads, and Chu also stepped to one side waiting for Temeraire to precede him in, which was as satisfying as anyone could wish, and when he had gone in he found a high-roofed hall, splendidly formed of what looked to be entire tree-trunks bound at intervals with polished bronze, and a handsome dinner laid on for them already.

At the head of the table, waiting, was Prince Mianning; and to his either side several dragons, both Imperials and the scarlet war-dragons, but that was not the important, the very important point: one of the dragons was Mei.

“The dangers of your charge are many, I am aware,” Mianning said, “and the chance of failure is great; but the rewards of victory will be commensurate.”

His servant was pouring the tea with great carelessness; it slopped freely to every side, leaves and liquid spattering hot across the table and even to the ground. The dragons had sated themselves all upon roasted pork, and most of the aviators as well, and fallen into a stuporous sleep well-earned by their day’s long exertions; it was surely almost the middle of the night. Laurence alone had been invited to join Mianning within the inner chamber, for this final leavetaking, although he half-suspected Hammond of sitting by the door outside with his ear pressed to a crack.

“My intention is to send Lung Qin Mei with you,” Mianning
went on as the servant with ceremony handed him and then Laurence a cup, of a brew which had a peculiarly smoky and strong flavor, bitter on the tongue. “This will ensure further opportunities for conception; and should we be fortunate and an egg produced, will also enable you to keep the news concealed from the capital as long as possible. With your company, sheltered amongst foreign dragons and away from the Imperial household who are ever-watchful for such signs as mark the coming of an egg, she may conceal her state a long while. You and your fellows may then hide away the egg, and perhaps bring it back to the palace in secret.

“For the rest, I hope you have seen the advantages of the situation. You will travel under our banners, and with a company of three
jalan
. Should you succeed in your mission, nothing will be more natural than to send a similar force westward with you, to your war against Napoleon.”

Laurence did appreciate that advantage, but not in the least the high-handed way in which the situation had been thrust upon them. Hammond’s endless strictures still rang in his ears, but he and Mianning had gone through fire together, quite literally, and though the crown prince could not at all be said to have a manner which encouraged license, Laurence determined to take the bull by the horns. “Your Highness, I beg your pardon for speaking plainly, but I cannot undertake to commit even myself, much less my country-men, to this mission: not for any length of time and certainly not for the time required to produce an egg. We are certainly
not
responsible for the resurgence of this native rebellion; we cannot contribute materially to its end. Mr. Hammond has urged our going, rather than defy the Emperor’s will openly; but I cannot conceive our long remaining, kicking our heels in your back-country. There is open war in Europe, and if our party seems to you insignificant to that effort, I assure you by the standards of our own nation it is not. If you desire this alliance as much as we do, then I must tell you that we will require some excuse for our returning, sooner rather than late, if you do not mean us to give it up.”

Laurence had no idea how this was received: Mianning heard
him out with no evidence of either impatience or sympathy. “We must permit events to unfold,” Mianning said only. “The situation of your army in the West is naturally of great concern to you.” Polite enough, but making no promises. “I suggest that you take this opportunity to observe the work of General Chu, and of our
jalan
: this will afford you opportunity to gain a better understanding of the management of aerial warfare as its principles are understood by our nation.” He did not say outright that he felt their understanding of those principles was far superior to the British, but he hardly needed to.

“When we have actually seen scale or tooth of any other dragon in this so-called company,” Captain Warren said, with some asperity, when Laurence had recounted his conversation, “it will be soon enough for us to be amazed. I suppose we have managed well enough against Boney, even with that Chinese worm of his whispering advice in his ear. If these fellows will only give us a few dozen beasts, I will thank them well enough, and they can keep their principles.”

“Pray not so loud,” Hammond said, glancing worried over his shoulder: he had nearly suffered an apoplexy at Laurence’s account. Mianning and his escort had already departed, but Chu droned in sleep in a warm forward corner of the pavilion, and the Jade Dragons lay in a neat row against the entry wall. Laurence did not think they were in any state to overhear, despite the thin gleaming slits of their eyes still cracked ajar, but the impression of being observed lingered, and he could understand Hammond saying, “Perhaps we ought to retire, gentlemen; we will surely have a long flight ahead of us again on the morrow.”

They parted, the captains each joining their own beasts; Laurence went first to see how his crew were settled. A folding screen, pilfered in haste from their quarters in the Imperial palace, made at least the illusion of a private space for Mrs. Pemberton and Emily in the corner, although when Laurence tapped and was invited to look in, he discovered that rather in defiance of their respective
rôles, Emily had placed herself nearer the open floor, and her hand rested in her sleep upon her unsheathed sword.

Mrs. Pemberton yet sewed by the light of a candle. “Yes,” she said ruefully, “I am afraid she insisted, and asked what I would do if someone did choose to come in. As I had no answer to give but that I would certainly raise a cry, she told me I could do that perfectly well from behind her, while she taught the fellow a sharper lesson.”

“I am sorry to subject you to such a journey,” Laurence said; she had been swept along in their general pell-mell departure, but now he wondered if he ought send her by some escort back to the
Potentate
. He made the offer, but she avowed herself quite willing to endure the hardship.

“Emily has offered to teach me how to shoot her pistols, and to reload them,” she said, “and I believe I will take her up on the offer if you have no objections, Captain. Not that I am truly concerned at present, but as I understand it, we expect to be joined by a large force of soldiers?”

“How large,” Laurence said dryly, “remains to be seen.”

He bowed and took his leave of her, making note to speak to Forthing about arranging some guard of steady and respectable men for the ladies. He had not yet decided what to think of his first officer: it was perhaps the worst of his loss of memory, to have no measure, no sense, of those on whose judgment he had to rely; and he was the more disturbed to have some cause to doubt them. At least Forthing so far seemed steady enough—he was no gentleman, it was true, but that was a charge which many a good officer of the Navy could not answer. But Laurence knew nothing of him in any difficult circumstances, under exigency.

The rest of his men were sleeping on the other side of the folding screen, bundled into rough blankets and bedrolls. O’Dea and a few of the ground crewmen were engaged in a muttered game of cards, their legs stretched out around them and their deck so worn that the faces could scarcely be distinguished.

Baggy was sitting with them; Laurence silently caught him by the ear and drew him up and away, the boy scrambling to his feet wincing and stifling a yelp. “Take his cards, will you, O’Dea?” Laurence said. “Sleep well, men; we will do what we can tomorrow to see you do not have so cramped a time of it.”

“Ah,” O’Dea said, scooping up the cards, “and two queen in his hand; well, ’tis the wages of sin.” He tossed them into the discards. “No call to go to great lengths, Captain, when we are flying into a hive of very iniquitous rebels: the Old Nick can make us dance even if our legs are stiff when we get to him.”

The other ground crewmen did not look very enthusiastic about this description of their prospects; Laurence sighed inwardly, but only nodded them good night and hauled Baggy away. “Sir, I didn’t think there were no—any harm in it; they’re only playing for pence,” Baggy said, tipping his head sideways to ease his ear, and trying to peer at Laurence out of the corner of his eye at once.

Laurence let him go at his empty bedroll, near the other officers. “You have been advanced before the mast, as it were,” he said, “so I will make allowances this time, Mr.—” He stumbled; he realized he did not even know Baggy’s real name. “—sir,” he substituted. “But you are an officer now: you cannot sit to cards with the ground crew at night, with men twice and more your age, and then make them give you precedence in the morning. Nothing could be less respectful.” He paused, glancing over: Junichiro, who shared quarters with the junior officers, was sitting yet awake on his own bedroll; he was looking steadfastly down at his hands, and pretending not to observe the lecture.

“You will show Mr. Junichiro the ropes,” Laurence said abruptly to Baggy, “beginning tomorrow. We will put a little more harness on Temeraire, and you will come aboard, as my servants; I dare say the Chinese cannot object to that. You will take him above and below while we are aloft.”

“How am I to learn from
him
?” Junichiro said, with at least some sort of a spark, even if it was of dismay, when Laurence had
conveyed this programme to him in Chinese. “He does not know any civilized language, and he is—” Junichiro hesitated, for lack of the word, but Laurence did not require it said aloud: Baggy was indeed not very prepossessing, and no-one could have called him gentleman-like.

“As you must learn English, however uncivilized, before I can seek a commission for you,” Laurence said, “that must not be a bar; and Baggy is an officer of the Corps, regardless of his manners. You will sit together on the left shoulder, and inquire of me if you require a translation now and again: you will have to climb over to my position to do so, but it will be as well for you to have that practice.” He left them staring at each other, satisfied himself if they were not. At the very least Junichiro would be diverted some more from his desolation, and Baggy from seeking inappropriate society; and Laurence relied on the power of boredom to make them learn to talk to each other eventually, trapped aloft for ten hours at a time: Baggy was a sociable creature, and might with his very lack of sensibility wear down Junichiro’s resistance.

A separate inner chamber of the pavilion had been set aside for Temeraire’s use; but as he had withdrawn to it with Mei after their dinner, Laurence was far from wishing to interrupt them. He had delayed as long as he might, however, so tentatively he looked inside. To his relief, the two dragons slept already, with their noses only touching; and he found a separate sleeping alcove set aside where his own things had been laid out, the archway leading to it closed off by heavy drapes.

He roused early and found the main chamber empty: going outside he saw Temeraire at some distance from the pavilion, an enormous bulk in the midst of a bare field peering intently at something on the ground; he looked up when Laurence called his name and came towards him. “Pray come and see,” he said, “I admire it very much.” It was one of the carved numbers, and at this close range Laurence could see the white paint lining the sides of each carved channel had in it a great many silvery flecks, polished to a
mirror-shine, which evidently caught whatever starlight or moonlight offered and brightened the characters thereby.

Everyone was awake when they returned to the pavilion, and rousing for the day. “Is there more of that pork, anywhere?” Maximus asked, yawning, his eyes half-open.

“Pork!” General Chu said, when Temeraire ventured to ask him, and snorted disapprovingly. He bounded across the chamber to Maximus and, seizing in his jaws one of the tall reeds from the wall, which carried a banner, thwacked him soundly on the hindquarters.

“Oi!” Maximus said, rousing up, “what does he mean by that? Temeraire, tell that fellow to stop, or I will pin him down.”

“Hah! Will he!” General Chu said. “Well, if he is awake, then, tell him to get aloft and stop looking for more food: we will eat to-night, not weight our bellies down for a long day of flying, and if he is sleepy and hungry in the air, perhaps that will remind him to eat more porridge to-night, instead of only gulping meat as though he were a dog. We are on campaign!”

With this rejoinder he put down the reed and stalked outside to make ablutions: a large fountain stood outside gushing from a tall stone pillar, fed somehow from underground; he drank thirstily and deeply from the gush, then thrust his head into the deep pool which it fed, and flinging it back let the water pour off his mane and cascade down his back to the ground. Then he flew some short distance to the nearby midden.

“It don’t make any sense to me; we’ve always stuffed them full as they could hold, when we were going to be doing any long flying, if there was food to be had,” Granby said doubtfully, when Laurence asked him his opinion. “But we can’t drum them up some pigs from thin air, and I don’t see any here, so we must lump it for now whether it’s good advice or no.”

They followed Chu’s example at the fountain, and got themselves aboard again, not without some stifled sighs from the ground crewmen, who could see ahead another day of endless crammed-in
flying. “Pray forgive us, Larring,” Harcourt said, to her own ground-crew master. “I don’t mean to use you all so unkind. While we fly to-day, piece out the spare leather into belt-harnesses for you all, and beginning tomorrow we’ll have you take it in turn to latch on to the back harness yourselves. It will be good for the officers to have some exercise climbing about, anyway; it’s been too long since we had maneuvers.”