Temeraire. Naomi Novik

in the corner still holding a tray with the port decanter upon it.

      Laurence wheeled on Portland. ‘A gentleman cannot be expected to tolerate such a remark.’

      ‘An aviator’s life is not only his own; he cannot be allowed to risk it so pointlessly,’ Portland said flatly. ‘There is no duelling in the Corps.’

      The repeated pronouncement had the weight of law, and Laurence was forced to see the justice in it; his hand relaxed minutely, though the angry colour did not leave his face. ‘Then he must apologize, sir, to myself and to the Navy; it was an outrageous remark.’

      Portland said, ‘And I suppose you have never made nor listened to equally outrageous remarks made about aviators, or the Corps?’

      Laurence fell silent before the open bitterness in Portland’s voice. It had never before occurred to him that aviators themselves would surely hear such remarks and resent them; now he understood still more how savage that resentment must be, given that they could not even make answer by the code of their service. ‘Captain,’ he said at last, more quietly, ‘if such remarks have ever been made in my presence, I may say that I have never been responsible for them myself, and where possible I have spoken against them harshly. I have never willingly heard disparaging words against any division of His Majesty’s armed forces; nor will I ever.’

      It was now Portland’s turn to be silent, and though his tone was grudging, he did finally say, ‘I accused you unjustly; I apologize. I hope that Dayes, too, will make his apologies when he is less distraught; he would not have spoken so if he had not just suffered so bitter a disappointment.’

      ‘I understood from what you said that there was a known risk,’ Laurence said. ‘He ought not have built his expectations so high; surely he can expect to succeed with a hatchling.’

      ‘He accepted the risk,’ Portland said. ‘He has spent his right to promotion. He will not be permitted to make another attempt, unless he wins another chance under fire; and that is unlikely.’

      So Dayes was in the same position which Riley had occupied before their last voyage, save perhaps with even less chance, dragons being so very rare in England. Laurence still could not forgive the insult, but he understood the emotion better; and he could not help feeling pity for the fellow, who was after all only a boy. ‘I see; I will be happy to accept an apology,’ he said; it was as far as he could bring himself to go.

      Portland looked relieved. ‘I am glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘Now, I think it would be best if you went to speak to Temeraire; he will have missed you, and I believe he was not pleased to be asked to take on a replacement. I hope we may speak again tomorrow; we have left your bedroom untouched, so you need not shift for yourself.’

      Laurence needed little encouragement; moments later he was striding to the field. As he drew near, he could make out Temeraire’s bulk by the light of the half-moon: the dragon was curled in small upon himself and nearly motionless, only stroking his gold chain between his foreclaws. ‘Temeraire,’ he called, coming through the gate, and the proud head lifted at once.

      ‘Laurence?’ he said; the uncertainty in his voice was painful to hear.

      ‘Yes, my dear,’ Laurence said, crossing swiftly to him, almost running at the end. Making a soft crooning noise deep in his throat, Temeraire curled both forelegs and wings around him and nuzzled him carefully; Laurence stroked the sleek nose.

      ‘He said you did not like dragons, and that you wanted to be back on your ship,’ Temeraire said, very low. ‘He said you only flew with me out of duty.’

      Laurence went breathless with rage; if Dayes had been in front of him he would have flown at the man barehanded and beaten him. ‘He was lying, Temeraire,’ he said, with difficulty; he was half-choked by fury.

      ‘Yes; I thought he was,’ Temeraire said. ‘But it was not pleasant to hear, and he tried to take away my chain. It made me very angry. And he would not leave, until I put him out, and then you still did not come; I thought maybe he would keep you away, and I did not know where to go to find you.’

      Laurence leaned forward and laid his cheek against the soft warm hide. ‘I am so very sorry,’ he said. ‘They persuaded me it was in your best interests to stay away and let him try; but I should have seen what kind of a fellow he was.’

      Temeraire was quiet for several minutes, while they stood comfortably together, then said, ‘Laurence, I suppose I am too large to be on a ship now?’

      ‘Yes, pretty much, except for a dragon transport,’ Laurence said, lifting his head; he was puzzled by the question.

      ‘If you would like to have your ship back,’ Temeraire said, ‘I will let someone else ride me. Not him, because he says things that are not true; but I will not make you stay.’

      Laurence stood motionless for a moment, his hands still on Temeraire’s head, with the dragon’s warm breath curling around him. ‘No, dear one,’ he said at last, softly, knowing it was only the truth. ‘I would rather have you than any ship in the Navy.’

PART II