compressed his lips and held back a sharp word; he could not be checking every aviator who might be hostile to a Navy man, and to some extent he understood the resentment. He would have to win through it, just like a new midwingman fresh on board. ‘Not at all,’ was all he said. Though he was not sure why they had to strip down merely to tour the baths, he followed their example, save that he arranged his clothes with more care into two neat stacks, and lay his coat atop them rather than creasing it by folding.
Then they left the room by a corridor to the left, and passed through another metal door at its end. He saw the sense in undressing as soon as they were through: the room beyond was so full of steam he could barely see past arm’s length, and he was dripping wet instantly. If he had been dressed, his coat and boots would have been ruined, and everything else soaked through; on naked skin the steam was luxurious, just shy of being too hot, and his muscles unwound gratefully from the long flight.
The room was tiled, with benches built out of the walls at regular intervals; a few other fellows were lying about in the steam. Granby and Martin nodded to a couple of them as they led the way through and into a cavernous room beyond; this one was even warmer, but dry, and a long, shallow pool ran very nearly its full length. ‘We are right under the courtyard now, and there is why the Corps has this place,’ Martin said, pointing.
Deep niches were built into the long wall at regular intervals, and a fence of wrought-iron barred them from the rest of the room while leaving them visible. Perhaps half the niches were empty; the other half were padded with fabric, and each held a single massive egg. ‘They must be kept warm, you see, since we cannot spare the dragons to brood over them, or let them bury them near volcanoes or suchlike, as they would in nature.’
‘And there is no space to make a separate chamber for them?’ Laurence said, surprised.
‘Of course there is space,’ Granby said, rudely; Martin glanced at him and leaped in hastily, before Laurence could react.
‘You see, everyone is in and out of here often, so if one of them begins to look a bit hard we are more likely to notice it,’ he said hurriedly.
Still trying to rein in his temper, Laurence let Granby’s remark pass and nodded to Martin; he had read in Sir Edward’s books how unpredictable dragon egg hatching was, until the very end; even knowing the species could only narrow the process down to a span of months or, for the larger breeds, years.
‘We think the Anglewing over there may hatch soon; that would be famous,’ Martin went on, pointing at a golden-brown egg, its sides faintly pearlescent and spotted with flecks of brighter yellow. ‘That is Obversaria’s get; she is the flag-dragon at the Channel. I was signal-ensign aboard her, fresh out of training, and no beast in her class can touch her for manoeuvring.’
Both of the aviators looked at the eggs with wistful expressions, longingly; of course each of those represented a rare chance of promotion, and one even more uncertain than the favour of the Admiralty, which might be courted or won by valour in the field. ‘Have you served with many dragons?’ Laurence asked Martin.
‘Only Obversaria and then Inlacrimas; he was injured in a skirmish over the Channel a month ago, and so here I am on the ground,’ Martin said. ‘But he will be fit for duty again in a month, and I got a promotion out of it, so I shouldn’t complain; I am just made midwingman,’ he added proudly. ‘And Granby here has been with more; four, is that not right? Who before Laetificat?’
‘Excursius, Fluitare, and Actionis,’ Granby answered, very briefly.
But the first name had been enough; Laurence finally understood, and his face hardened. The fellow likely was friend to Lieutenant Dayes; at any rate the two of them had been the equivalent of shipmates until recently, and it was now clear to him that Granby’s offensive behaviour was not simply the general resentment of an aviator for a naval officer shoehorned into his ser vice, but also a personal matter, and thus in some sense an extension of Dayes’s original insult.
Laurence was far less inclined to tolerate any slight for such a cause, and he said abruptly, ‘Let us continue, gentlemen.’ He allowed no further delays during the remainder of the tour, and let Martin carry the conversation as he would, without giving any response that might draw it out. They came back to the dressing room after completing the circuit of the baths, and once dressed again, Laurence said quietly but firmly, ‘Mr. Granby, you will take me to the feeding grounds now; then I may set you at liberty.’ He had to make it clear to the man that the disrespect would not be tolerated; if Granby were to make another fling, he would have to be checked, and better by far were that to occur in private. ‘Mr. Martin, I am obliged to you for your company, and your explanations; they have been most valuable.’
‘You are very welcome,’ Martin said, looking between Laurence and Granby uncertainly, as if afraid of what might happen if he left them alone. But Laurence had made his hint quite un mistakable, and despite the informality Martin seemed able to see that it had nearly the weight of an order. ‘I will see you both at supper, I imagine; until then.’
In silence Laurence continued with Granby to the feeding grounds, or rather to a ledge that overlooked them, at the far end of the training valley. The mouth of a natural cul-de-sac was visible at the far end of the valley, and Laurence could see several herdsmen there on duty; Granby explained, in a flat voice, that when signalled from the ledge, these would pick out the appropriate number of beasts for a dragon and send them into the valley, where the dragon might hunt them down and eat, so long as no training flight was in progress.
‘It is straightforward enough, I trust,’ Granby said, in conclusion; his tone was highly disagreeable, and yet another step over the line, as Laurence had feared.
‘Sir,’ Laurence said, quietly. Granby blinked in momentary confusion, and Laurence repeated, ‘It is straightforward enough, sir.’
He hoped it would be enough to warn Granby off from further disrespect, but almost unbelievably, the lieutenant answered back, saying, ‘We do not stand on ceremony here, whatever you may have been used to in the Navy.’
‘I have been used to courtesy; where I do not receive it, I will insist at the least on the respect due to rank,’ Laurence said, his temper breaking loose; he glared savagely at Granby, and felt the colour coming into his face. ‘You will amend your address immediately, Lieutenant Granby, or by God I shall have you broken for insubordination; I do not imagine that the Corps takes quite so light a view of it as one might gather from your behaviour.’
Granby went very pale; the sunburn across his cheeks stood out red. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, and stood sharply at attention.
‘Dismissed, Lieutenant,’ Laurence said at once, and turned away to gaze out over the field with arms clasped behind his back until Granby had left; he did not want to even look at the fellow again. With the sustaining flush of righteous anger gone, he was tired, and miserable to have met with such disrespect; in addition he now had to anticipate with dismay the consequences he knew would follow on his having checked the man. Granby had seemed on their first instant of meeting to be friendly and likeable by nature; even if he were not, he was still one of the aviators, and Laurence an interloper. Granby’s fellows would naturally support him, and their hostility could only make Laurence’s circumstances unpleasant.
But there had been no alternative; open disrespect could not be borne, and Granby had known very well that his behaviour was beyond the pale. Laurence was still downcast when he turned back inside; his spirits rose only as he walked into the courtyard and found Temeraire awake and waiting for him. ‘I am sorry to have abandoned you so long,’ Laurence said, leaning against his side and petting him, more for his own comfort than Temeraire’s. ‘Have you been
