His Majesty's Dragon t-1

by Naomi Novik

  “Oh, certainly,” Temeraire said, with an air of generosity.

  Muttering a little, Laurence pulled his coat back on and began to walk back to the headquarters. Halfway to the building, he nearly collided with Morgan, running to find him. “Sir, Admiral Lenton wants you,” the boy said, panting with excitement, when Laurence had steadied him. “And he says, Temeraire is to go into combat rig.”

  “Very good,” Laurence said, concealing his surprise. “Go tell Lieutenant Granby and Mr. Hollin at once, and then do as Lieutenant Granby tells you; mind you speak of this to no one else.”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy said, and dashed off again to the barracks; Laurence quickened his pace.

  “Come in, Laurence,” Lenton said in reply to his knock; it seemed that every other captain in the covert was already crowded into the office as well. To Laurence’s surprise, Rankin was at the front of the room, sitting by Lenton’s desk. By wordless agreement, they had managed to avoid speaking to one another since Rankin’s transfer from Loch Laggan, and Laurence had known nothing of his and Levitas’s activities. These had evidently been more dangerous than Laurence might have imagined: a bandage around Rankin’s thigh was visibly stained with blood, and his clothes also; his thin face was pale and set with pain.

  Lenton waited only until the door had closed behind the last few stragglers to begin; he said grimly, “I dare say you already realize, gentlemen: we have been celebrating too soon. Captain Rankin has just returned from a flight over the coast; he was able to slip past their borders, and caught a look at what that damned Corsican has been working on. You may see for yourselves.”

  He pushed across his desk a sheet of paper, smudged with dirt and bloodstains that did not obscure an elegantly drafted diagram in Rankin’s precise hand. Laurence frowned, trying to puzzle the thing out: it looked rather like a ship-of-the-line, but with no railings at all around her upper deck, and no masts shipped, with strange thick beams protruding from both sides fore and aft, and no gunports.

  “What is it for?” Chenery said, turning it around. “I thought he already had boats?”

  “Perhaps it will become clearer if I explain that he had dragons carrying them about over the ground,” Rankin said. Laurence understood at once: the beams were intended to give the dragons a place to hold; Napoleon meant to fly his troops over the Navy’s guns entirely, while so many of Britain’s aerial forces were occupied at the Mediterranean.

  Lenton said, “We are not certain how many men he will have in each—”

  “Sir, I beg your pardon; may I ask, how long are these vessels?” Laurence asked, interrupting. “And is this to scale?”

  “To my eye, yes,” Rankin said. “The one which I saw in mid-air had two Reapers to a side, and room to spare; perhaps two hundred feet from front to back.”

  “They will be three-deckers inside, then,” Laurence said grimly. “If they sling hammocks, he can fit as many as two thousand men apiece, for a short journey, if he means to carry no provisions.”

  A murmur of alarm went around the room. Lenton said, “Less than two hours to cross each way, even if they launch from Cherbourg, and he has sixty dragons or more.”

  “He could land fifty thousand men by midmorning, good God,” said one of the captains Laurence did not know, a man who had arrived only recently; the same calculation was running in all their heads. It was impossible not to look about the room and tally their own side: less than twenty men, a good quarter of whom were the scout and courier captains whose beasts could do very little in combat.

  “But surely the things must be hopeless to manage in the air, and can the dragons carry such a weight?” Sutton asked, studying the design further.

  “Likely he has built them from light wood; he only needs them to last a day, after all, and they need not be watertight,” Laurence said. “He needs only an easterly wind to carry him over; with that narrow framing they will offer very little resistance. But they will be vulnerable in the air, and surely Excidium and Mortiferus are already on their way back?”

  “Four days away, at best, and Bonaparte must know that as well as do we,” Lenton said. “He has spent nearly his entire fleet and the Spanish as well to buy himself freedom from their presence; he is not going to waste the chance.” The obvious truth of this was felt at once; a grim and expectant silence fell upon the room. Lenton looked down at his desk, then stood up, uncharacteristically slow; Laurence for the first time noticed that his hair was grey and thin.

  “Gentlemen,” Lenton said formally, “the wind is in the north today, so we may have a little grace if he chooses to wait for a better wind. All of our scouts will be flying in shifts just off Cherbourg; we will have an hour’s warning at least. I do not need to tell you we will be hopelessly outnumbered; we can only do our best, and delay if we cannot prevent.”

  No one spoke, and after a moment he said, “We will need every heavy- and middleweight beast on independent duty; your task will be to destroy these transports. Chenery, Warren, the two of you will take midwing positions in Lily’s formation, and two of our scouts will take the wing-tip positions. Captain Harcourt, undoubtedly Bonaparte will reserve some dragons for defense; your task is to keep those defenders occupied as best you can.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said; the others nodded.

  Lenton took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “There is nothing else to be said, gentlemen; go to your preparations.”

  There was no sense in keeping it from the men; the French had nearly caught Rankin on his way back and already knew that their secret at last was out. Laurence quietly told his lieutenants, then sent them about their work; he could see the passage of the news through the ranks: men leaning in to hear from one another, their faces hardening as they grasped the situation, and the ordinary idle conversation of a morning vanishing quite away. He was proud to see even the youngest officers take it with great courage and go straight back to their work.

  This was the first time Temeraire would ever use the complete accoutrements of heavy combat outside of practice; for patrol a much lighter set of gear was used, and their previous engagement had been under traveling harness. Temeraire stood very straight and still, only his head turned about so he could watch with great excitement as the men rigged him out with the heaviest leather harness, triple-riveted, and began hooking in the enormous panels of chain-mesh that would serve as armor.

  Laurence began his own inspection of the equipment and belatedly realized that Hollin was nowhere to be seen; he looked three times through the whole clearing before he quite believed the man’s absence, and then called the armorer Pratt away from his work on the great protective plates which would shield Temeraire’s breast and shoulders during the fighting. “Where is Mr. Hollin?” he asked.

  “Why, I don’t believe I’ve seen him this morning, sir,” Pratt said, scratching his head. “He was in last night, though.”

  “Very good,” Laurence said, and dismissed him. “Roland, Dyer, Morgan,” he called, and when the three runners came, he said, “Go and see if you can find Mr. Hollin, and then tell him I expect him here at once, if you please.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said almost in unison, and dashed off in different directions after a hurried consultation.

  He returned to watching the men work, a deep frown on his face; he was astonished and dismayed to find the man failing in his duty at all, and under these circumstances most particularly; he wondered if Hollin could have fallen ill and gone to the surgeons: it seemed the only excuse, but the man would surely have told one of his crewmates.

  More than an hour went by, and Temeraire was in full rig with the crew practicing boarding maneuvers under Lieutenant Granby’s severe eye, before young Roland came hurrying back to the clearing. “Sir,” she said, panting and unhappy. “Sir, Mr. Hollin is with Levitas, please do not be angry,” she said, all in one rushing breath.

  “Ah,” Laurence said, a little embarrassed; he could hardly admit to Roland that he had been turning a blind eye to H
ollin’s visits, so she naturally was reluctant to be a tale-bearer on a fellow aviator. “He will have to answer for it, but that can wait; go and tell him he is needed at once.”

  “Sir, I told him so, but he said he cannot leave Levitas, and he told me to go away at once, and to tell you that he begs you to come, if only you can,” she said, very quickly, and eyeing him nervously to see how he would take this insubordination.

  Laurence stared; he could not account for the extraordinary response, but after a moment, his estimate of Hollin’s character decided him. “Mr. Granby,” he called, “I must go for a moment; I leave things in your hands. Roland, stay here and come fetch me at once if anything occurs,” he told her.

  He walked quickly, torn between temper and concern, and reluctance to once again expose himself to a complaint from Rankin, particularly under the circumstances. No one could deny the man had done his duty bravely, just now, and to offer him insult directly after would be an extraordinary piece of rudeness. And at the same time, Laurence could not help but grow angry at the man as he followed Roland’s directions: Levitas’s clearing was one of the small ones nearest the headquarters, undoubtedly chosen for Rankin’s convenience rather than his dragon’s; the grounds were poorly tended, and when Levitas came into view, Laurence saw he was lying in a circle of bare sandy dirt, with his head in Hollin’s lap.

  “Well, Mr. Hollin, what’s all this?” Laurence said, irritation making his tone sharp; then he came around and saw the great expanse of bandages that covered Levitas’s flank and belly, hidden from the other side, and already soaked through with the near-black blood. “My God,” he said involuntarily.

  Levitas’s eyes opened a little at the sound and turned up to look at him hopefully; they were glazed and bright with pain, but after a moment recognition came into them, and the little dragon sighed and closed them again, without a word.

  “Sir,” Hollin said, “I’m sorry, I know I’ve my duty, but I couldn’t leave him. The surgeon’s gone; says there’s nothing more to be done for him, and it won’t be long. There is no one here at all, not even to send for some water.” He stopped, and said again, “I couldn’t leave him.”

  Laurence knelt beside him and put his hand on Levitas’s head, very lightly for fear of causing him more pain. “No,” he said. “Of course not.”

  He was glad now to find himself so close to the headquarters. There were some crewmen idling by the door talking of the news, so he could send them to Hollin’s assistance, and Rankin was in the officers’ club, easily found. He was drinking wine, his color already greatly improved and having shifted his bloodstained clothing for fresh; Lenton and a couple of the scout captains were sitting with him and discussing positions to hold along the coastline.

  Coming up to him, Laurence told him very quietly, “If you can walk, get on your feet; otherwise I will carry you.”

  Rankin put down his glass and stared at him coldly. “I beg your pardon?” he said. “I gather this is some more of your officious—”

  Laurence paid no attention, but seized the back of his chair and heaved. Rankin fell forward, scrabbling to catch himself on the floor; Laurence took him by the scruff of his coat and dragged him up to his feet, ignoring his gasp of pain.

  “Laurence, what in God’s name—” Lenton said in astonishment, rising to his feet.

  “Levitas is dying; Captain Rankin wishes to make his farewells,” Laurence said, looking Lenton squarely in the eye and holding Rankin up by the collar and the arm. “He begs to be excused.”

  The other captains stared, half out of their chairs. Lenton looked at Rankin, then very deliberately sat back down again. “Very good,” he said, and reached for the bottle; the other captains slowly sank back down as well.

  Rankin stumbled along in his grip, not even trying to free himself, shrinking a little from Laurence as they went; outside the clearing, Laurence stopped and faced him. “You will be generous to him, do you understand me?” he said. “You will give him every word of praise he has earned from you and never received; you will tell him he has been brave, and loyal, and a better partner than you have deserved.”

  Rankin said nothing, only stared as if Laurence were a dangerous lunatic; Laurence shook him again. “By God, you will do all this and more, and hope that it is enough to satisfy me,” he said savagely, and dragged him on.

  Hollin was still sitting with Levitas’s head in his lap, a bucket now beside him; he was squeezing water from a clean cloth into the dragon’s open mouth. He looked at Rankin without bothering to hide his contempt, but then he bent over and said, “Levitas, come along now; look who’s come.”

  Levitas’s eyes opened, but they were milky and blind. “My captain?” he said uncertainly.

  Laurence thrust Rankin forward and down onto his knees, none too gently; Rankin gasped and clutched at his thigh, but he said, “Yes, I am here.” He looked up at Laurence and swallowed, then added awkwardly, “You have been very brave.”

  There was nothing natural or sincere in the tone; it was as ungraceful as could be imagined. But Levitas only said, very softly, “You came.” He licked at a few drops of water at the corner of his mouth. The blood was still welling sluggishly from beneath the dressing, thick enough to slightly part the bandages one from the other, glistening and black. Rankin shifted uneasily; his breeches and stockings were being soaked through, but he looked up at Laurence and did not try to move away.

  Levitas gave a low sigh, and then the shallow movement of his sides ceased. Hollin closed his eyes with one rough hand.

  Laurence’s hand was still heavy on the back of Rankin’s neck; now he lifted it away, rage gone, and only tight-lipped disgust left. “Go,” he said. “We who valued him will make the arrangements, not you.” He did not even look at the man as Rankin left the clearing. “I cannot stay,” he said quietly to Hollin. “Can you manage?”

  “Yes,” Hollin said, stroking the little head. “There can’t be anything, with the battle coming and all, but I’ll see he’s taken and buried proper. Thank you, sir; it meant a great deal to him.”

  “More than it ought,” Laurence said. He stood looking down at Levitas a short while longer; then he went back to the headquarters and found Admiral Lenton.

  “Well?” Lenton asked, scowling, as Laurence was shown into his office.

  “Sir, I apologize for my behavior,” Laurence said. “I am happy to bear any consequences you should think appropriate.”

  “No, no, what are you talking about? I mean Levitas,” Lenton said impatiently.

  Laurence paused, then said, “Dead, with a great deal of pain, but he went easily at the end.”

  Lenton shook his head. “Damned pity,” he said, pouring a glass of brandy for Laurence and himself. He finished his own glass in two great swallows and sighed heavily. “And a wretched time for Rankin to become unharnessed,” he said. “We have a Winchester hatching unexpectedly at Chatham: any day now, by the hardening of the shell. I have been scrambling to find a fellow in range worthy of the position and willing to be put to a Winchester; now here he is on the loose and having made himself a hero bringing us this news. If I don’t send him and the beast ends up unharnessed, we will have a yowl from his entire damned family, and a question taken up in Parliament, like as not.”

  “I would rather see a dragon dead than in his hands,” Laurence said, setting down his glass hard. “Sir, if you want a man who will be a credit to the service, send Mr. Hollin; I would vouch with my life for him.”

  “What, your ground-crew master?” Lenton frowned at him, but thoughtfully. “That is a thought, if you think him suited for the task; he could not feel he was hurting his career by such a step. Not a gentleman, I suppose.”

  “No, sir, unless by gentleman you mean a man of honor rather than breeding,” Laurence said.

  Lenton snorted at this. “Well, we are not so stiff-necked a lot we must pay that a great deal of mind,” he said. “I dare say it will answer nicely; if we are not all dead or captured by
the time the egg cracks, at any rate.”

  Hollin stared when Laurence relieved him of his duties, and said a little helplessly, “My own dragon?” He had to turn away and hide his face; Laurence pretended not to see. “Sir, I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, whispering to keep his voice from breaking.

  “I have promised you will be a credit to the service; see to it you do not make me a liar, and I will be content,” Laurence said, and shook his hand. “You must go at once; the hatching is expected at almost any day, and there is a carriage waiting to take you to Chatham.”

  Looking dazed, Hollin accepted Laurence’s hand, and the bag with his few possessions which his fellows on the ground crew had hastily packed for him, then allowed himself to be led off towards the waiting carriage by young Dyer. The crew were beaming upon him as they went; he was obliged to shake a great many hands, until Laurence, fearing he would never get under way, said, “Gentlemen, the wind is still in the north; let us get some of this armor off Temeraire for the night,” and put them to work.

  Temeraire watched him go a little sadly. “I am very glad that the new dragon will have him instead of Rankin, but I wish they had given him to Levitas sooner, and perhaps Hollin would have kept him from dying,” he said to Laurence, as the crew worked on him.

  “We cannot know what would have happened,” Laurence said. “But I am not certain Levitas could ever have been happy with such an exchange; even at the end he only wanted Rankin’s affection, as strange as that seems to us.”

  Laurence slept with Temeraire again that evening, close and sheltered in his arms and wrapped in several woolen blankets against the early frost. He woke just before first light to see the barren tree-tops bending away from the sunrise: an easterly wind, blowing from France.

  “Temeraire,” he called quietly, and the great head rose up above him to sniff the air.