several hours to settle the dragons down and get them unpacked and fed; fortunately the covert was a very large one, covering perhaps one hundred acres when including the cattle pastures, and there was no difficulty about finding a comfortably large clearing for Temeraire. Temeraire was wavering between excitement at having seen his first battle and deep anxiety for Lily’s sake; for once he ate only indifferently, and Laurence finally told the crew to take away the remainder of the carcasses. ‘We can hunt in the morning, there is no need to force yourself to eat,’ he said.
‘Thank you; I truly do not feel very hungry at the moment,’ Temeraire said, settling down his head. He was quiet while they cleaned him, until the crewmen had gone and left him alone with Laurence. His eyes were closed to slits, and for a moment Laurence wondered if he had fallen asleep, then he opened them a little more and asked softly, ‘Laurence, is it always so, after a battle?’
Laurence did not need to ask what he meant; Temeraire’s weariness and sorrow were apparent. It was hard to know how to answer; he wanted so very much to reassure. Yet he himself was still tense and angry, and while the sensation was familiar, its lingering was not. He had been in many actions, no less deadly or dangerous, but this one had differed in the crucial respect: when the enemy took aim at his charge, they were threatening not his ship, but his dragon, already the dearest creature to him in the world. Nor could he contemplate injury to Lily or Maximus or any of the members of the formation with any sort of detachment; they might not be his own Temeraire, but they were full comrades-in-arms as well. It was not at all the same, and the surprise attack had caught him unprepared in his mind.
‘It is often difficult afterwards, I am afraid, particularly when a friend has been injured, or perhaps killed,’ he said finally. ‘I will say that I find this action especially hard to bear; there was nothing to be gained, for our part, and we did not seek it out.’
‘Yes, that is true,’ Temeraire said, his ruff drooping low upon his neck. ‘It would be better if I could think we had all fought so hard, and Lily had been hurt, for some purpose. But they only came to hurt us, so we did not even protect anyone.’
‘That is not true at all; you protected Lily,’ Laurence said. ‘And consider: the French made a very clever and skilful attack, taking us wholly by surprise, with a force equal to our own in numbers and superior in experience, and we defeated it and drove them off. That is something to be proud of, is it not?’
‘I suppose that is true,’ Temeraire said; his shoulders settled as he relaxed. ‘If only Lily will be all right,’ he added.
‘Let us hope so; be sure that all that can be done for her will be,’ Laurence said, stroking his nose. ‘Come now, you must be tired. Will you not try and sleep? Shall I read to you a little?’
‘I do not think I can sleep,’ Temeraire said. ‘But I would like you to read to me, and I will lie quietly and rest.’ He yawned as soon as he had finished saying this, and was asleep before Laurence had even taken the book out. The weather had finally turned, and the warm, even breaths rising from his nostrils made small puffs of fog in the crisp air.
Leaving him to sleep, Laurence walked quickly back to the covert headquarters; the path through the dragon-fields was lit with hanging lanterns, and in any case he could see the windows up ahead. An easterly wind was carrying the salt air in from the harbour, mingled with the coppery smell of the warm dragons, already familiar and hardly noticed. He had a warm room on the second floor, with a window that looked out onto the back gardens, and his baggage had already been unpacked. He looked at the wrinkled clothes ruefully; evidently the servants at the covert had no more notion of packing than the aviators themselves did.
There was a great noise of raised voices as he came into the senior officers’ dining-room, despite the late hour; the other captains of the formation were assembled at the long table where their own meal was going largely untouched.
‘Is there any word about Lily?’ he asked, taking the empty chair between Berkley and Dulcia’s captain, Chenery; Captain Harcourt and Immortalis’s Captain Little were the only ones not present.
‘He cut her to the bone, the great coward, but that is all we know,’ Chenery said. ‘They are still sewing her up, and she hasn’t taken anything to eat.’
Laurence knew that was a bad sign; an injured dragon would usually become ravenous, unless they were in very great pain. ‘Maximus and Messoria?’ he asked, looking at Berkley and Sutton.
‘Ate well, and fast asleep,’ Berkley said; his usually placid face was drawn and haggard, and he had a streak of dark blood running across his forehead into his bristly hair. ‘That was damned quick of you today, Laurence; we’d have lost her.’
‘Not quick enough,’ Laurence said quietly, forestalling the murmur of agreement; he had not the least desire to be praised for this day’s work, though he was proud of what Temeraire had done.
‘Quicker than the rest of us,’ Sutton said, draining his glass; from the looks of his cheeks and nose, it was not his first. ‘They caught us properly flat-footed, damned Frogs. What the devil they were doing to have a patrol there, I would like to know.’
‘The route from Laggan to Dover isn’t much of a secret, Sutton,’ Little said, coming to the table; they dragged chairs about to make room for him at their end of the table. ‘Immortalis is settled and eating, by the by; speaking of which, please give me that chicken here.’ He wrenched off a leg with his hands and tore into it hungrily.
Looking at him, Laurence felt the first stirrings of appetite; the other captains seemed to feel the same way, and for the next ten minutes there was silence while they passed the plates around and concentrated on their food; they had none of them eaten since a hasty breakfast before dawn at the covert near Middlesbrough. The wine was not very good, but Laurence drank several glasses anyway.
‘I expect they’ve been lurking about between Felixstowe and Dover, just waiting to get a drop on us,’ Little said after a while, wiping his mouth and continuing his earlier thought. ‘By God, if you ever catch me taking Immortalis that way again; overland it is for us from now on, unless we’re looking for a fight.’
‘Right you are,’ Chenery said, with heartfelt agreement. ‘Hello, Choiseul; pull up a chair.’ He shuffled over a little more, and the Royalist captain joined them.
‘Gentlemen, I am very happy to say that Lily has begun to eat; I have just come from Captain Harcourt,’ he said, and raised a glass. ‘To their health, may I propose?’
‘Hear, hear,’ Sutton said, refilling his own glass; they all joined in the toast, and there was a general sigh of relief.
‘Here you all are, then; eating, I hope? Good, very good.’ Admiral Lenton had come up to join them; he was the commander-in-chief of the Channel Division, and thus all those dragons at the Dover covert. ‘No, don’t be fools, don’t get up,’ he said impatiently, as Laurence and Choiseul began to rise, and the others belatedly followed. ‘After the day you’ve had, for Heaven’s sake. Here, pass that bottle over, Sutton. So, you all know that Lily is eating? Yes, the surgeons hope she will be flying short distances in a couple of weeks, and in the meantime you have at least nicely mauled a couple of their heavy-combat beasts. A toast to your formation, gentlemen.’
Laurence was at last beginning to feel his tension and distress ease; knowing Lily and the others were out of danger was a great relief, and the wine had loosened the tight knot in his throat. The others seemed to feel much the same way, and conversation grew slow and fragmented; they were all much inclined to nod over their cups.
‘I am quite certain
