“I beg your pardon,” Ning said, breaking into his brooding thoughts, “but do you think you will eat that lamb you have there?”

“Certainly I will eat it,” Temeraire said, rather indignantly: Ning had refused any part of the battle, even though she might certainly have been of material use, if only she had consented to set a few French guns afire. She had not earned any delicacies. Then he sighed: worry was interfering with the enjoyment of what ought to have been a treat, as the lamb had been sent him in the line of medicine, for his wounds, and Baggy had seen it roasted beautifully on a spit.

“Do your wounds distress you a great deal?” Ning asked. “You seem out of sorts, despite our victory.”

“It is not my wounds, only no-one will tell me why Laurence should be angry with his officers,” Temeraire said. “And I do not have confidence he will not fight a duel, if any of them should have insulted his honor.”

“I am afraid I do not understand,” Ning said.

“Well, Roland let it slip, that Laurence should like to challenge one of them,” Temeraire began, but Ning flicked her wings negatively.

“No, no,” she said. “I do not understand why you are perplexed: surely there was ample cause for anger on his part, in the failures of your wing dragons during the battle yesterday? You yourself remarked, last evening, that you intended to speak with them.”

Temeraire paused: this construction had not occurred to him. “But whyever should that make Laurence angry with his officers?” he said. “Iskierka has behaved ten times as badly, on other occasions, and that was certainly not Granby’s fault; besides, those ferals were worse than anyone else, and they have no officers to blame.”

“Ah! Well, one does not like to speculate,” Ning said, but she tilted her head as though she had something else on the tip of her tongue to offer. Temeraire nudged over the platter of lamb towards her. “Why, that is very kind of you,” she said, and swallowed down an entire haunch in one neat gulp, crunching the bones with satisfaction. “Well, your admiral is not an unreasonable man, I think—” Temeraire enjoyed again, privately, your admiral, “—so perhaps you must consider if there might be some cause to have provoked his anger against them in these circumstances. I will regretfully mention,” she added, “that I have heard Fidelitas’s captain make certain unfavorable remarks, about Admiral Laurence, on a few occasions when I breakfasted in the southern clearing.”

“Do you mean to say that Poole gave Fidelitas orders to go and pillage, while we were all still fighting?” Temeraire said, in dawning outrage. He could scarcely believe it, but when Laurence had at last returned, he did not refute the supposition.

“I must beg you not to repeat it, however,” Laurence said wearily. “No good can come of such gossip: there is no proof, and I hope to God I shall be given none; I must not act upon it, if action can be helped.”

“This is what you were afraid of, Laurence, all along, I see now,” Temeraire said, seething. “Oh! It is beyond all that is shocking, and when I think that Fidelitas knows, perfectly well, how like a selfish coward he was behaving: I will certainly have words with him.”

“You cannot,” Laurence said. “He cannot be blamed for following his captain’s orders.”

“I do not see why not,” Temeraire said, “when he knew perfectly well that those orders were outrageous. Told to behave like a greedy guts who doesn’t care to know any better, when everyone else was keeping in line, and fighting—I wonder he is not ashamed to show his face at the porridge-pits. Laurence, you cannot mean to let him behave in such a scaly manner, without reproof.”

“We cannot chide the dragon, and not chide the man,” Laurence said. “And he is protected by the Admiralty, who would be glad of the excuse to force my resignation. No, my dear, I am afraid we must cut our coats according to our cloth. He cannot be punished directly: we can only withhold reward.”

“Reward?” Temeraire said, pricking up his ruff.

“The Cossacks seized a French wagon-train fleeing the battlefield, last night,” Laurence said. “Laden with charqui, and enough of it to feed us for two months. Wittgenstein has sent it over to our supply-officers.”

“Why, that is excellent news,” Temeraire said. “But I am afraid, Laurence, that one cannot really call charqui a reward: indeed, you would not credit how stubborn some of our company are, when it comes to eating anything but raw meat. Fidelitas would not even taste my dinner, the day before the battle, though that new cook we have hired did the mutton so very nicely, all rolled around the barley and chestnuts, with that charming sauce with all the peppers—he looked as though he would have liked to try it, so I felt obliged to offer him a bite, but he pulled back straightaway and said no, no, he would not.”

Temeraire paused even as he finished speaking, and flattened his ruff. “Is that part of this same nonsense? Do you mean, Laurence, that he has been acting so very strangely at his captain’s prompting?”

“That, I am afraid, must be the least of it,” Laurence said. “But we cannot correct, so we must attempt to lure. Tell me: would you consider four thousand pounds a sufficient incentive, in the way of prize-money, to stimulate their interest, if divided among our force?”

“Four thousand pounds!” Temeraire cried, quite unable to stifle his delight. “Laurence, how splendid: of course it would. But wherever has four thousand pounds come from?” he asked, a little worried—he hoped Laurence did not mean to propose that he should furnish such a sum.

“The greatest unhanged scoundrels of the service,” Laurence said dryly.

—

It was with the greatest satisfaction that Temeraire set himself up at the head of his clearing, later that afternoon, when the other dragons began to assemble: Iskierka and Requiescat, and all the formation-leaders, as well as Ricarlee and a handful of the other senior unharnessed dragons as well. Minnow had been sent round, to summon them all, and Temeraire received them with a stately calm he felt befit the solemn occasion, and frowned down Ricarlee into order, when he would have gone poking into the simmering leavings of breakfast. “What’s it all about, then?” the unrepentant feral demanded.

“You must wait and hear with everyone else,” Temeraire said coolly, “although I do not scruple to say, it shall be something of the greatest interest, and to the advantage of any honorable dragon, who is a member of our forces.”