all fours; the ground shook with the impact.
‘Lookouts aboard,’ Portland said; four ensigns climbed on and took up positions at the shoulders and hips, above and below, hooking themselves onto the harness. ‘Topmen and bellmen.’ Now two groups of eight midwingmen climbed up, one going into the tent above, the other below: Laurence was startled to perceive how large the enclosures really were; they seemed small only by virtue of comparison to Laetificat’s immense size.
The crews were followed in turn by the twelve riflemen, who had been checking and arming their guns while the others rigged out the gear. Laurence noticed Lieutenant Dayes leading them, and frowned; he had forgotten about the fellow in the rush. Dayes had offered no apology; now most likely they would not see one another for a long time. Although perhaps it was for the best; Laurence was not sure that he could have accepted the apology, after hearing Temeraire’s story, and as it was impossible to call the fellow out, the situation would have been uncomfortable to say the least.
The riflemen having boarded, Portland walked a complete circuit around and beneath the dragon. ‘Very good; ground crew aboard.’ The handful of men remaining climbed into the belly-rigging and strapped themselves in; only then did Portland himself ascend, Laetificat lifting him up directly. He repeated his inspection on the top, manoeuvring around on the harness with as much ease as any of the little ensigns, and finally came to his position at the base of the dragon’s neck. ‘I believe we are ready; Captain Laurence?’
Laurence belatedly realized he was still standing on the ground; he had been too interested in the process to mount up himself. He turned, but before he could clamber onto the harness, Temeraire reached out carefully and put him aboard, mimicking Laetificat’s action. Laurence grinned privately and patted the dragon’s neck. ‘Thank you, Temeraire,’ he said, strapping himself in; Portland had pronounced his improvised harness adequate for the journey, although with a disapproving air. ‘Sir, we are ready,’ he called to Portland.
‘Proceed, then; smallest goes aloft first,’ Portland said. ‘We will take the lead once in the air.’
Laurence nodded; Temeraire gathered himself and leaped, and the world fell away beneath them.
Aerial Command was situated in the countryside just southeast of Chatham, close enough to London to permit daily consultation with the Admiralty and the War Office; it had been an easy hour’s flight from Dover, with the rolling green fields he knew so well spread out below like a checkerboard, and London a suggestion of towers in the distance, purple and indistinct.
Although the dispatches had long preceded him to England and he must have been expected, Laurence was not called to the office until the next morning. Even then he was kept waiting outside Admiral Powys’s office for nearly two hours. At last the door opened; stepping inside, he could not help glancing curiously from Admiral Powys to Admiral Bowen, who was sitting to the right of the desk. The precise words had not been intelligible out in the hall, but he could not have avoided overhearing the loud voices, and Bowen was still red-faced and frowning.
‘Yes, Captain Laurence, do come in,’ Powys said, waving him in with a fat-fingered hand. ‘How splendid Temeraire looks; I saw him eating this morning: already close on nine tons, I should say. You are to be most highly commended. And you fed him solely on fish the first two weeks, and also while on the transport? Remarkable, remarkable indeed; we must consider amending the general diet.’
‘Yes, yes; this is beside the point,’ Bowen said, impatiently.
Powys frowned at Bowen, then continued, perhaps a little too heartily, ‘In any case, he is certainly ready to begin training, and of course we must do our best to bring you up to the mark as well. Of course we have confirmed you in your rank; as a handler, you would be made captain anyway. But you will have a great deal to do; ten years’ training is not to be made up in a day.’
Laurence bowed. ‘Sir, Temeraire and I are both at your service,’ he said, but with reserve; he perceived in both men the same odd constraint about his training that Portland had displayed. Many possible explanations for that constraint had occurred to Laurence during the two weeks aboard the transport, most of them unpleasant. A boy of seven, taken from his home before his character had been truly formed, might easily be forced to accept treatment which a grown man would never endure, and yet of course the aviators themselves would consider it necessary, having gone through it themselves; Laurence could think of no other cause that would make them all so evasive about the subject.
His heart sank further as Powys said, ‘Now, then; we must send you to Loch Laggan,’ for it was the place Portland had mentioned, and been so anxious about. ‘There is no denying that it is the best place for you,’ Powys went on. ‘We cannot waste a moment in making you both ready for duty, and I would not be surprised if Temeraire were up to heavy combat weight by the end of the summer.’
‘Sir, I beg your pardon, but I have never heard of the place, and I gather it is in Scotland?’ Laurence asked; he hoped to draw Powys out.
‘Yes, in Inverness-shire; it is one of our largest coverts, and certainly the best for intensive training,’ Powys said. ‘Lieutenant Greene outside will show you the way, and mark a covert along the route for you to spend the night; I am sure you will have no difficulty in reaching the place.’
It was clearly a dismissal, and Laurence knew he could not make any further inquiry. In any event, he had a more pressing request. ‘I will speak to him, sir,’ he said. ‘But if you have no objection, I would be glad to stop the night at my family home in Nottinghamshire; there is room enough for Temeraire, and deer for him to eat.’ His parents would be in town at this time of year, but the Galmans often stayed in the country, and there might be some chance of seeing Edith, if only briefly.
‘Oh, certainly, by all means,’ Powys said. ‘I am sorry I cannot give you a longer furlough; you have certainly deserved it, but I do not think we can spare the time: a week might make all the difference in the world.’
‘Thank you, sir, I perfectly understand,’ Laurence said, and so bowed and departed.
Armed by Lieutenant Greene with an excellent map showing the route, Laurence began his preparations at once. He had taken some time in Dover to acquire a collection of light bandboxes; he thought that their cylindrical shape might better lie against Temeraire’s body, and now he transferred his belongings into them. He knew he made an unusual sight, carrying a dozen boxes more suitable for ladies’ hats out to Temeraire, but when he had strapped them down against Temeraire’s belly and seen how little they added to his profile, he could not help feeling somewhat smug.
‘They are quite comfortable; I do not notice them at all,’ Temeraire assured him, rearing up on his back legs and flapping to make certain they were well-seated, just as Laetificat had done back in Madeira. ‘Can we not get one of those tents? It would be much more comfortable for you to ride out of the wind.’
‘I have no idea how to put it up, though, my dear,’ Laurence said, smiling at the concern. ‘But I will do well enough; with this leather coat they have given me I will be quite warm.’
‘It must wait until you have your proper harness, in any case; the tents require locking carabiners. Nearly ready to go, then, Laurence?’ Bowden had come upon them and interjected himself into the conversation without any notice. He joined Laurence standing before Temeraire’s chest and stooped a little to examine the bandboxes. ‘Hm, I see you are bent on turning all our customs upside down to suit yourself.’
‘No, sir, I hope not,’ Laurence said, keeping his temper; it could not serve to alienate the man, for he was one of the senior commanders of the Corps, and might well have a say in what postings Temeraire received. ‘But my sea chest was awkward for him to bear, and these seemed the best replacement I could manage on short notice.’
‘They may do,’ Bowden said, straightening up. ‘I hope you have as easy a time putting aside the rest of your naval thinking as your sea chest, Laurence; you must be an aviator now.’
‘I am an aviator, sir, and willingly so,’ Laurence said. ‘But I cannot pretend that I intend to put aside the habits and