beast. ‘I think perhaps your own handler is the only one who ought to remove it,’ he said. ‘I do not like to give offence.’
‘He has not come for three days,’ the Winchester said sadly, his small head drooping; he was only about the size of a couple of draft horses, and his shoulder barely topped Laurence’s head. Looking more closely, Laurence could see his hide was marked with streaks of dried blood, and the harness did not look particularly clean or well-kept, unlike those of the other dragons; it bore stains and rough patches.
‘Come here, and let me have a look at you,’ Laurence said quietly, as he took up the linens, still wet from the lake, and began to clean the little dragon.
‘Oh, thank you,’ the Winchester said, leaning happily into the cloth. ‘My name is Levitas,’ he added, shyly.
‘I am Laurence, and this is Temeraire,’ Laurence said.
‘Laurence is my captain,’ Temeraire said, the smallest hint of belligerence in his tone, and an emphasis on the possessive; Laurence looked up at him in surprise, and paused in his cleaning to pat Temeraire’s side. Temeraire subsided, but watched with his pupils narrowed to thin slits while Laurence finished.
‘Shall I see if I cannot find what has happened to your handler?’ he told Levitas with a final pat. ‘Perhaps he is not feeling well, but if so I am sure he will be well soon.’
‘Oh, I do not think he is sick,’ Levitas said, with that same sadness. ‘But that feels much better already,’ he added, and rubbed his head gratefully against Laurence’s shoulder.
Temeraire gave a low displeased rumble and flexed his talons against the stone; with an alarmed chirp, Levitas flew straightaway up to Maximus’s back and nestled down small against the other Winchester again. Laurence turned to Temeraire. ‘Come now, what is this jealousy?’ he said softly. ‘Surely you cannot begrudge him a little cleaning when his handler is neglecting him.’
‘You are mine,’ Temeraire said obstinately. After a moment, however, he ducked his head in a shamefaced way and added in a smaller voice, ‘He would be easier to clean.’
‘I would not give up an inch of your hide were you twice Laetificat’s size,’ Laurence said. ‘But perhaps I will see if some of the boys would like to wash him, tomorrow.’
‘Oh, that would be good,’ Temeraire said, brightening. ‘I do not quite understand why his handler has not come; you would never stay away so long, would you?’
‘Never in life, unless I was kept away by force,’ Laurence said. He did not understand it himself; he could imagine that a man harnessed to a dim beast would not necessarily find the creature’s company satisfying intellectually, but at the least he would have expected the easy affection with which he had seen James treat Volatilus. And though even smaller, Levitas was certainly more intelligent than Volly. Perhaps it was not so strange that there would be less-dedicated men among aviators as well as in any other branch of the service, but with the shortage of dragons, it seemed a great pity to see one of them reduced to unhappiness, which could not help but affect the creature’s performance.
Laurence carried Temeraire’s harness with him out of the castle yard and over to the large sheds where the ground crews worked; though it was late in the day, there were several men still sitting out in front, smoking comfortably. They looked at him curiously, not saluting, but not unfriendly either. ‘Ah, you’d be Temeraire’s,’ one of them said, reaching out to take the harness. ‘Has it broken? We’ll be having a proper harness ready for you in a few days, but we can patch it up in the meantime.’
‘No, it merely needs cleaning,’ Laurence said.
‘You haven’t a harness-tender yet; we can’t be assigning you your ground crew ’til we know how he’s to be trained,’ the man said. ‘But we’ll see to it; Hollin, give this a rub, would you?’ he called, catching the attention of a younger man who was working on a bit of leatherwork inside.
Hollin came out, wiping grease off onto his apron, and took the harness in big, capable-looking hands. ‘Right you are; will he give me any trouble, putting it back on him after?’ he asked.
‘That will not be necessary, thank you; he is more comfortable without it, so merely leave it beside him,’ Laurence said firmly, ignoring the looks this won him. ‘And Levitas’s harness requires attention as well.’
‘Levitas? Well now, I’d say that’s for his captain to speak to his crew about,’ the first man said, sucking on his pipe thoughtfully.
That was perfectly true; nevertheless, it was a poor-spirited answer. Laurence gave the man a cold, steady look, and let silence speak for him. The men shifted a little uncomfortably under his glare. He said, very softly, ‘If they need to be rebuked to do their duty, then it must be arranged; I would not have thought any man in the Corps would need to hear anything but that a dragon’s wellbeing was at risk to seek to amend the situation.’
‘I’ll do it along of dropping off Temeraire’s,’ Hollin said hurriedly, ‘I don’t mind; he’s so small it won’t take me but a few shakes.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Hollin; I am glad to see I was not mistaken,’ Laurence said, and turned back to the castle; he heard the murmur behind him of, ‘Regular Tartar, he is; wouldn’t fancy being on his crew.’ It was not a pleasant thing to hear, at all; he had never been considered a hard captain, and he had always prided himself on ruling his men by respect rather than fear or a heavy hand; many of his crew had been volunteers.
He was conscious, too, of guilt: by speaking so strongly, he had indeed gone over the head of Levitas’s captain, and the man would have every right to complain. But Laurence could not quite bring himself to regret it; Levitas was clearly neglected, and it in no way fit his sense of duty to leave the creature in discomfort. The informality of the Corps might for once be of service to him; with any luck the hint might not be taken as direct interference, or as truly outrageous as it would have been in the Navy.
It had not been an auspicious first day; he was both weary and discouraged. There had been nothing truly unacceptable as he had feared, nothing so bad he could not bear it, but also nothing easy or familiar. He could not help but long for the comforting strictures of the Navy which had encompassed all his life, and wish impractically that he and Temeraire might be once again on the deck of the Reliant, with all the wide ocean around them.
The sun woke him, streaming in through the eastern windows. The forgotten cold plate had been waiting for him the night before when he had finally climbed back up to his room, Tolly evidently being as good as his word. A couple of flies had settled on the food, but that was nothing to a seaman; Laurence had waved them off and devoured it to the crumbs. He had meant only to rest a while before supper and a bath; now he blinked stupidly up at the ceiling for the better part of a minute before getting his bearings.
Then he remembered the training; he scrambled up at once. He had slept in his shirt and breeches, but fortunately he had a second of each, and his coat was reasonably fresh. He would have to remember to find a tailor locally where he could order another. It was a bit of a struggle to get into it alone, but he managed, and felt himself in good order when at last he descended.
The senior officers’ table was nearly empty. Granby was not there, but Laurence felt the effect of his presence in the sideways glances the two young men sitting together at
