to attend to, for today we will begin your integration into Lily’s formation,’ Celeritas said. ‘Pray go and fetch Temeraire; the others will be here shortly.’
Walking back out, Laurence was thoughtful. He had known, of course, that the larger breeds would outlive their handlers, when they were not killed in battle together; he had not considered that this would leave the dragons alone and without a partner afterwards, nor how they or Aerial Command would manage the situation. Of course it was in Britain’s best interests to have the dragon continue in service, with a new handler, but he also could not help but think the dragon himself would be happier so, with duties to occupy his thoughts and keep him from the kind of sorrow that Celeritas obviously still felt.
Arriving once again at the clearing, Laurence looked at the sleeping Temeraire with concern. Of course there were many years before them, and the fortunes of war might easily make all such questions moot, but Temeraire’s future happiness was his responsibility, heavier by far to him than any estate could have been, and at some time soon he would have to consider what provisions he could make to ensure it. A well-chosen first lieutenant, perhaps, might step into his place, with Temeraire brought to the notion over the course of several years.
‘Temeraire,’ he called, stroking the dragon’s nose; Temeraire opened his eyes and made a small rumble.
‘I am awake; are we flying again today?’ he said, yawning enormously up at the sky and twitching his wings a little.
‘Yes, my dear,’ Laurence said. ‘Come, we must get you back into your harness; I am sure Mr. Hollin will have it ready for us.’
The formation ordinarily flew in a wedge-shaped block that resembled nothing more than a flock of migrating geese, with Lily at the head. The Yellow Reapers Messoria and Immortalis filled the key mid-wing positions, providing the protective bulk to keep Lily from close-quarters attack, while the ends were held by the smaller but more agile Dulcia, a Grey Copper, and a Pascal’s Blue called Nitidus. All were full-grown, and all but Lily had previous combat experience; they had been especially chosen for this critical formation to support the young and inexperienced Longwing, and their captains and crews were rightly proud of their skill.
Laurence had cause to be thankful for the endless labour and repetition of the last month and a half; if the manoeuvres they had practised for so long had not become by now second-nature for Temeraire and Maximus, they could never have kept up with the practised, effortless acrobatics of the others. The two larger dragons had been added into position so as to form a back row behind Lily, closing the formation into a triangle shape. In battle, their place would be to fend off any attempts to break up the formation, to defend it against attack from other heavy-combat class dragons, and to carry the great loads of bombs that their crews would drop below upon those targets that had already been weakened by Lily’s acid.
Laurence was very glad to see Temeraire admitted fully to the company of the other dragons of the formation; although none of the older dragons had the energy for much play outside their work. For the most part they lazed about during the scant idle hours, and only observed in tolerant amusement while Temeraire and Lily and Maximus talked and occasionally went aloft for a game of aerial tag. For his own part, Laurence also felt a great deal more welcome among the other aviators now, and discovered that he had without noticing it adjusted to the informality of their relations: the first time he found himself addressing Captain Harcourt as simply, ‘Harcourt,’ in a post-training discussion, he did not even realize he had done so until after the words were out of his mouth.
The captains and first lieutenants generally held such discussions of strategy and tactics at dinnertime, or during the late evenings after the dragons had all fallen asleep. Laurence’s opinion was rarely solicited in these conversations, but he did not take that greatly to heart: though he was quickly coming to grasp the principles of aerial warfare he still considered himself a newcomer to the art, and he could hardly take offence at the aviators doing the same. Save when he could contribute some information about Temeraire’s particular capabilities, he remained quiet and made no attempt to insinuate himself into the conversations, rather listening for the purpose of educating himself.
The conversation did turn, from time to time, to the more general subject of the war; out of the way as they were, their information was several weeks out of date, and speculation irresistible. Laurence joined them one evening to find Sutton saying, ‘The French fleet could be bloody well anywhere.’ Sutton was Messoria’s captain and the senior among them, a veteran of four wars, and somewhat given to both pessimism and colourful language. ‘Now they have slipped out of Toulon, for all we know the bastards are already on their way across the Channel; I wouldn’t be surprised to find the army of invasion on our doorstep tomorrow.’
Laurence could hardly let this pass. ‘You are mistaken, I assure you,’ he said, taking his seat. ‘Villeneuve and his fleet have slipped out of Toulon, yes, but he is not engaged in any grand operation, only in flight: Nelson has been in steady pursuit all along.’
‘Why, have you heard something, Laurence?’ Chenery, Dulcia’s captain, asked, looking up from the desultory game of vingt-et-un that he and Immortalis’s Captain Little were playing.
‘I have had some letters, yes; one from Captain Riley, of the Reliant,’ Laurence said. ‘He is with Nelson’s fleet: they have chased Villeneuve across the Atlantic, and he writes that Lord Nelson has hopes of catching the French in the West Indies.’
‘Oh, and here we are without any idea of what is going on!’ Chenery said. ‘For Heaven’s sake, fetch it here and read it to us; you are not very good to be keeping this all to yourself while we are all in the dark.’
He spoke with too much eagerness for Laurence to take offence; as the sentiments were repeated by the other captains, he sent a servant to his room to bring him the scant handful of letters he had received from former colleagues who knew his new direction. He was obliged to omit several passages commiserating with him on his change in situation, but he managed to elide them gracefully enough, and the others listened with great hunger to his bits and pieces of news.
‘So Villeneuve has seventeen ships, to Nelson’s twelve?’ Sutton said. ‘I don’t think much of the blighter for running, then. What if he turns about? Racing across the Atlantic like this, Nelson cannot have any aerial force; no transport could keep up the pace, and we do not have any dragons stationed in the West Indies.’
‘I dare say the fleet could take him with fewer ships still,’ Laurence said, with spirit. ‘You are to remember the Nile, sir, and before that the battle of Cape St. Vincent: we have often been at some numerical disadvantage and still carried the day; and Lord Nelson himself has never lost a fleet action.’ With some difficulty, he restrained himself and stopped here; he did not wish to seem an enthusiast.
The others smiled, but not in any patronizing manner, and Little said in his quiet way, ‘We must hope he can bring them to account, then. The sad fact of the matter is, while the French fleet remains in any way intact, we are in deadly danger. The Navy cannot always be catching them, and Napoleon only need hold the Channel for two days, perhaps three, to ferry his army across.’
This was a lowering thought, and they all felt its weight. Berkley at last broke the resulting silence with a grunt and took up his glass to drain it. ‘You can all sit about glooming; I am for bed,’ he said. ‘We have enough to do without borrowing trouble.’
‘And I must be up early,’ Harcourt said, sitting up. ‘Celeritas wants Lily to practice spraying upon targets in the morning, before manoeuvres.’
‘Yes, we all ought to get to sleep,’ Sutton said. ‘We can hardly do better than to get this formation into order, in any case; if any chance of flattening Bonaparte’s
