Victory of Eagles (34 page)

When your sergeants give the word, you are to go aboard the dragons, one to a company, one column to

a side, filling the rigging from front to back. The first company which is aboard in good order will have the

honor of carrying the flag when we give Boney his well-deserved drubbing, and an extra ration of rum in

camp to-night.

“And I hope there is no man here more faint of heart than a Frenchman,” he added, “but if there is

anyone here who is too craven to go aloft for an hour, he may say so now, and be excused.” He nodded

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to the colonel of the regiment, and himself turned and walked over to the dragons, to make a show of

speaking with Rowley. No-one spoke, and the men filed in perfect order—with something even of a

hurry—aboard the beasts; the rest of the army had been roused up to see it happen, and the dragons

lifting off with the soldiers all aboard: with only a little prodding from the sergeants, the men aboard all

jeered cheerfully at the regiments marching below as the dragons sailed away.

The first few days were a confusion of trying to match the supply to the men, at the end of the day, and

more than one set of rations went astray; they did not manage to go more than ten miles beyond the usual

distance, and the brigades on the road became a wretched muddle, with some regiments on each others’

heels, and others separated by miles. The dragons were also not very pleased. “One of them poked at

me with a bayonet,” Chalcedony complained, indignantly, “and when I turned around and told him to

stop, he shrieked: he is lucky I did not toss him off.”

But a semblance of order was gradually imposed on the proceedings, and in the end, the march which

ought to have taken a long slow month was completed in two weeks: the advantage of air transport told

all the more as they came through the mountains, where the dragons carried the men over the worst

stretches, anywhere snow and ice had made the road impassable. Winter was now upon them in earnest,

and they flew deeper into it as they went north; until the Cairngorm range reared up startlingly close, one

clear morning, and the frozen black waters of Loch Laggan, with the citadel looking down upon it from

the heights.

“Oh, at last,” Temeraire said, with relief, looking down at the courtyard with its heated stones dark and

bare of snow.

But Laurence was looking at something else: there was a dragon already in the courtyard, a Papillon

Noir gorgeously ornamented with iridescent stripes of blue and green, curled comfortably upon the

stones with a flag of parley and a tricolor upon its shoulders.

Chapter 12

I
T WAS A VERYgreat relief to let off his last load of men and supply. Temeraire understood the

necessity of moving as quickly as Napoleon, of course, and if he had been disposed to doubt it,

Perscitia’s calculations showed plainly how quickly the difference of thirty miles a day, even if it seemed

only a few hours’ flying, would add up day by day. But it was so very tedious to be going back and forth

on these short hopping flights, an hour in the air, then letting men off, then flying directly back to have

another load put on. It was impossible to fly quickly or freely with men clinging aboard to the makeshift

rigging, and then there was all the unpleasantness of their dirt. His own crew were well able to handle

such matters without getting him spattered, even little Roland, and since the passengers were only an hour

or two at most aboard at a time, Temeraire felt it was not too much to ask that they show some restraint,

even if they were crammed aboard. But some of them simply could not manage it, and if he only dived a

little to catch a better air current, or twisted to keep on an updraft, he was sure to be soiled. All very well

to say, he had scales; it would take a week of bathing before he felt at all clean again.

But the lake was frozen solid, so for the moment he had to content himself with rolling in the thick snow

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on one of the neighboring hills, until he was wet and cold all over. The encampment had been going up all

day as they delivered men by air, and by now the officers were coming up the hill in irregular clusters to

eat in the citadel, leaving their horses stabled away at the foot. Loch Laggan had an ample herd, and all

of them having eaten, the unharnessed dragons began to circle down, negotiating with complex aerial

maneuvers their respective landing places on the hill, whether within the desirable courtyard or near it, or

in the clearings farther out.

“Do you suppose,” Temeraire said to Laurence in an undertone, as he settled himself gladly down onto

the deliciously baking-hot stones, “do you suppose that Celeritas will have forgiven me, for lying?” He

put his head up over the squirming of dragons: middle-weights trying to fit themselves between and

around him and Requiescat and Ballista, and Armatius, who smugly had claimed a place, with the other

heavy-weights, thanks to Gentius drowsing yet upon his back. The light-weights and couriers were

perched up on the walls and battlements, waiting for the outmatched middle-weights to give up before

they began their own squabble over who would have a place.

Majestatis had ignored all the struggle, and taken himself a place just on the other side of the courtyard

wall, to the south; Temeraire could hear Perscitia arguing with him indignantly. “You ought to go take a

place in the courtyard,” she said.

“I am very comfortable here,” Majestatis returned placidly.

“You would be
more
comfortable in the courtyard,” Perscitia said, “and you can have a place there if

you only make a little push for one: you do not need this one.”

“But I like this one, and I did not have to push to have it,” he said. “The ground is warm.”

She gave a sulky hiss. “I dare say you do not even know
why.
”

“The hot water for the baths runs under this part of the hillside, too,” Majestatis said.

There was a brief silence. “Yes,” Perscitia said, “it must, because this is the lower side of the slope, and

it must drain away somewhere, but how did
you
know that?”

“There is steam coming out of that crack in the ground there.”

“Oh,” she muttered.

“I am going to sleep now,” Majestatis informed her. “I don’t mind if you want to share.”

“I do
not
want to share,” Perscitia said, but a low deep rumbling breath was the only reply, and after

another fit of grumbling she evidently reconciled herself: both of them were audible in their snores before

the rest of the quarreling had even resolved itself into a settled order for the courtyard.

But there was no sign of Celeritas. The old training master did not sleep in the courtyard himself, of

course, but in a private mountain-side cave; but he might come out to see them all, Temeraire thought,

with some anxiety. He was not easy about having lied to Celeritas, when they had come to steal the

mushrooms, and he had never had the chance to apologize properly. He was quite sure Celeritas would

have understood and approved of the mission—at least, he was as sure as he could be, because anyone

could take an odd start; but Celeritas might still be angry over being lied to and tricked into having let

them in, unchallenged.

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“He is not here anymore,” a Winchester said: not anyone Temeraire knew, a small bright-eyed

courier-beast, in harness; he was perched upon the wall behind them, out of the way of the confusion

with all the new dragons coming in. “I think he has gone to the breeding grounds in Ireland.”

“But whyever would Celeritas go to the breeding grounds,” Temeraire protested; the little Winchester

only fluttered out his wings in a shrug. “It is very boring in the breeding grounds,” Temeraire said to

Laurence. “I do not understand why he should have left his post here.”

Laurence did not say anything for a moment, and then he said, oddly without conviction, “Perhaps he

grew tired of the work.”

He said nothing else, nothing more reassuring, and Temeraire looked at him sidelong: Laurence was

sitting upon one of the low benches by the wall, looking again at the gold ring which he had brought back

from London. He had not said where it had come from, and Temeraire felt a little shy of pressing him.

Laurence seemed so very unhappy, and Temeraire did not understand properly why: they were together,

not pent up anywhere, and soon they would have a splendid battle to take back their territory; and then

the Government would pay them money. So there was nothing to be sorry about, except perhaps that

they had retreated in the first place; but the rest would make up for that.

Temeraire sighed, and informed the squabbling Reapers, “You had all better leave some room. Maximus

must be here soon, and the rest of the Corps; and ought not Lily be here already?”

Laurence raised his head. “They all ought,” he said. “They were ahead of us.”

He went into the citadel to try and find out where the others were, from the other officers; and

meanwhile Chalcedony and Gladius and Cantarella finally won out over the other Reapers and settled

themselves down, so the Grey Coppers and the Winchesters and the ferals could now squeeze

themselves in amongst the rest, and then they were all warm and snug on the heated stones. Moncey and

Minnow had settled themselves on Temeraire’s back; he felt quite comfortable, ready for a proper

drowse, and then the Papillon Noir raised his head and said, “How pleasant it is here! It is almost as nice

as the pavilions the Emperor has built for us in Paris.”

He spoke in English, with a curious accent, and many of the other dragons pricked up in interest. “Those

are much larger, of course,” the Papillon continued, “so no-one has to sleep outside if they do not want

to; and there is a charming little stream which runs past them, so if one wants a drink, one only has to

stretch out one’s neck. But these are just as warm; at least, if it is not raining, or snowing.” A little drifting

snow was indeed coming down in that moment, and slicking the stone.

“I expect,” Temeraire said, rather coolly, “that he is imitating the pavilions from China, which are very

splendid.”

“Yes, exactly,” the Papillon said enthusiastically, “although Madame Lien says, he has made them even

nicer. And we each have a box at the pavilions, where we can put our treasure, and the palace guard

keeps watch over it when we are not there.”

“Hum, and I suppose they don’t take it,” Gentius said, skeptically, cracking one luridly orange eye.

“No, never,” the Papillon said. “I have three gold chains and a ruby there, and they are always just as I

have left them; the guards will even polish them for me, if I ask them.”

Everyone was very wide awake now, at “three gold chains and a ruby.” “I have earned them,” the

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Papillon said, seeing he had his audience, “by helping to build some roads, and for some fighting: and I

have been promoted to captain for it, see,” and showed off a handsome badge pinned to his harness: a

round disk of some shining metal. “So can anyone, who likes to serve the Emperor,” he added,

significantly.

Temeraire laid back his ruff. “Certainly, if they do not mind helping someone who goes about stealing

other people’s territory, when he already has plenty of his own, and kills heaps of men and dragons to do

it,” he said coldly. “Anyway, we are getting pay, too; and
I
have been made colonel.”

“I congratulate you!” the Papillon said. “How much have you been paid so far?” When Temeraire had

made an awkward, sputtering explanation, the Papillon went on, “Well, I am sure the Emperor would

pay you right away, and give you even higher rank, then.”

There was a low thoughtful murmur going around. Temeraire put his head sidelong to nudge Roland,

who was grudgingly doing lessons with Demane and Sipho—less of her own volition than at Sipho’s

insistence: he was beginning to outstrip her as well as his older brother, as Roland had never been very

interested in studying. “You had better go and tell Laurence, that the French dragon is making all sorts of

promises, which I am sure are lies, if only we would agree to serve Napoleon; and pray let him come and

put a stop to it,” he finished plaintively; he did not know how to answer the French dragon, who after all

was offering just what he himself had asked for; except he did not want it from Napoleon, who had