Empire of Ivory (17 page)

sleep gone all to pieces, taken half in wine at Brodin's

table and half during the early hours of the morning, and

crept through his day, supervising the useless harness-work

and lessons for Emily and Dyer, until it was time to go

again. They repeated the engagement twice more, and then on

the fifth day, while he sat lumpen and considering the

chessboard dully, Brodin raised his head and said to

Laurence abruptly, "Has he not yet begun to cough?"

"Perhaps my throat is a little sore," Temeraire said

judiciously. Laurence was sitting, his head bent nearly to

his knees, scarcely able to support the weight of hope

resting so unexpectedly upon his shoulders, while Keynes

and Dorset clambered over Temeraire like monkeys: they had

listened to his lungs with a great paper cone placed

against the chest, to which they put their ears, and stuck

their heads in his jaws to examine his tongue, which

remained a healthy and unspotted red.

"We must cup him, I think," Keynes said at last, turning to

his medical satchel.

"But I am perfectly well," Temeraire objected, sidling away

from the approach of the wicked curved blade of the

catling. "It does not seem to me that one ought to be

forced to take medicine when one is not sick; anyone would

think you had no other work to do," he said, aggrieved, and

the operation was only achieved by persuading him of the

noble service which it should be, to the sick dragons.

It yet required a dozen attempts: he kept withdrawing his

leg at the last moment, until Laurence convinced him not to

look, but to keep his eyes turned in quite the opposite

direction until the ready basin held by Dorset was filled,

and Keynes said, "There," and clapped the cautery, waiting

ready in the fire, to the nick at once.

They would have carried the steaming bowlful of dark blood

away without another word, if Laurence had not chased after

them to demand their verdict: "No, of course he is not

sick, and does not mean to be, so far as I can tell,"

Keynes said. "I will say no more at present; we have work

to do," and went away, leaving Laurence almost ill himself

with reaction; he felt a man who had stepped out of the

shadow of the gallows, two weeks of anxious dread giving

way quite suddenly to this almost shattering relief. It was

very difficult not to yield to the force of his emotions,

with Temeraire saying, "It is not very nice to be cut open,

and I do not see what good it will do at all," nosing

experimentally at the tiny seared-shut wound, and then

nudging him in alarum. "Laurence? Laurence, pray do not

worry; it does not hurt so much, and look, it has already

stopped bleeding."

Jane was writing papers before Keynes had half made her his

report, her face lit with energy and purpose, the grey

shroud of sorrow and weariness fully visible only now with

its removal.

"Let us not have any rioting, if you please," Keynes said

almost angrily. His hands were still gory with blood

crusted under the fingernails; he had come straight from

his work, in making comparisons of the samples of blood

beneath his microscope. "There is no justification for it.

It may very well be merely a difference in physiognomy, or

an individual trait. I have said only there is the merest

possibility, worthy of a trial-worthy of a small trial,

with no expectations-" His protests were useless: she did

not pause for a moment. He looked as though he would have

liked to snatch away her pen.

"Nonsense; a little riot is just what we need," Jane said,

without even looking up, "and you will write the most

damned encouraging report ever seen, if you please; you

will give no excuses to the Admiralty."

"I am not speaking to the Admiralty at present," Keynes

said, "and I do not care to give unfounded hopes. In all

likelihood, he has never had the disease-it is some natural

resistance, unique to his breed; and the cold which he

suffered last year merely coincidence."

The hope was indeed a very tenuous one. Temeraire had been

ill en route to China, briefly, the sickness settling

itself out of hand after little more than a week in

Capetown, and so dismissed at the time and afterwards as a

mere trifling cold. Only his present resistance to the

disease had given Keynes the suspicion that the illnesses

might perhaps have been one and the same. But even if he

were not mistaken, there might be no cure; if there were a

cure, it might not be easily found; if it were found, still

it might not be brought back in time to save many of the

sick.

"And it is by no means the least likely possibility,"

Keynes added peevishly, "that there may be no curative

agent whatsoever; many a consumptive has found a temporary

relief in warmer climes."

"Whether the climate or the waters or the food, I do not

care two pins; if I must ship every dragon in England to

Africa by boat to take the cure, you may be sure I will do

it," Jane said. "I am almost as glad to find some cause to

lift our spirits again as for the chance of a cure, and you

will do nothing to depress them again," Little hope riches

enough to those who until lately had none, and worth

pursuing with every means at hand. "Laurence, you and

Temeraire must go, though I hate to give you up again," she

added, handing him his orders, hastily written and scarcely

legible, "but we must rely on him to remember best whatever

might have suited his taste, and be the foundation of the

cure. The ferals come along as well as could be hoped,

thank Heavens, and with this latest spy captured, perhaps

we will be lucky, and Bonaparte will not be in such a hurry

to send good dragons after bad.

"And I am sending along all your formation," she continued.

"They are in urgent need, having been among the first to

take sick; if you bring them back well, which God willing,

you can hold the Channel while we treat the others."

"Then I may see Maximus and Lily again, now," Temeraire

said jubilantly, and would not wait, but insisted that they

go at once: they had scarcely set down outside the barren

clearing where Maximus slept, before Berkley came striding

out to them and seizing Laurence by the arms nearly shook

him, saying ferociously, "For God's sake, say it is true,

and not some damned fairy-tale," and he turned aside and

covered his face when Laurence gave his assent.

Laurence pretended not to see. "Temeraire, I believe your

harness is loose, there over the left flank, will you look

at it?" he said firmly, when Temeraire would have kept

peering at Berkley's bowed shoulders.

"But Mr. Fellowes was working on it only last week,"

Temeraire said, diverted, nosing over it experimentally. He

delicately took up a bit of the harness between his teeth

and tugged on it. "No, it lies perfectly well; it does not

feel the least bit loose at all."

"Here, let's have a look at you," Berkley interrupted

brusquely, having mastered himself. "A good twelve feet

more since you sailed away to China, no? And you look well,

Laurence; I expected to see you ragged as a tinker."

"You would certainly have found me so, when we had first

returned," Laurence answered, gripping his hand. He could

not return any compliment; Berkley had put off some six

stone of weight, at first glance, and it did not suit him;

his jowls hung loose from his cheeks.

Maximus looked still more dreadfully altered, the great

scaly red-and-gold hide sagging in folds around the base of

the neck, and forward of his chest with the massive

fretwork of his spine and shoulders holding it up like

tent-poles, and what Laurence supposed to be the air-sacs

swollen and bulging from his wasted sides. His eyes were

slitted nearly shut, and a thin raspy noise of breathing

issued from his cracked-open jaws, a trail of drool

puddling beneath them; the nostrils were caked over with

dried flaking effluvia.

"He will wake up in a bit, and be glad to see you both,"

Berkley said gruffly, "but I don't like to wake him when he

can get any rest. The blasted cold will not let him sleep

properly, and he don't eat a quarter of what he should."

Temeraire, having followed them into the clearing, made no

sound, but crouched himself down, his neck curved back upon

itself like a wary snake, and sat there utterly still, his

wide unblinking gaze fixed on Maximus, who slept on,

rasping, rasping. Laurence and Berkley conversed in low

voices, discussing the sea-voyage. "Less than three months

to the Cape," Laurence said, "to judge by our last voyage;

and we had some fighting off the Channel to see us off,

which did not speed matters."

"However long, better on a ship to some purpose than lying

about like this, if we all drown at it," Berkley said. "We

will be packed by morning, and the lummox will eat properly

for once if I have to march the cows down his gullet."

"Are we going somewhere?" Maximus said sleepily, in a voice

much thickened, and turned his head aside to cough low and

deep, several times, and spit into a small leaf-covered pit

dug for the purpose. He rubbed each of his eyes against his

foreleg, in turn, to clear away the mucus, and then seeing

Temeraire slowly brightened, his head rising. "You are

back; was China very interesting?" he asked.

"It was, oh, it was, but," Temeraire burst out, "I am sorry

I was not at home, while all of you were sick; I am so very

sorry," and hung his head, miserably.

"Why it is only a cold," Maximus said, only to be

interrupted by another bout of coughing, after which he

added regardless, "I will be perfectly hearty soon, I am

sure; only I am tired." He closed his eyes almost directly

he had said this, and fell again into a light stupor.

"They have the worst of it," Berkley said heavily, seeing

Laurence away; Temeraire had crept very quietly out of the

clearing again, so they might go aloft without disturbing

Maximus. "All the Regal Coppers. It is the damned weight;

they do not eat, so they cannot keep up their muscle, and

then one day they cannot breathe. Four lost already, and

Laetificat will not see summer, unless we find your cure."

He did not say that Maximus would follow soon after, if not

precede her; he did not need to.

"We shall find it," Temeraire said fiercely, "we shall, we

shall, we shall."

"I hope to find you well, and your charge, when we return,"

Laurence said, shaking Granby's hand; behind him a great

bustle and commotion were under way as the crew made their

final preparations: they would depart tomorrow on the

evening tide, the wind permitting, and needed to be well

aboard by morning, with so many dragons and their crews to

be stowed. Emily and Dyer were busily folding his clothing

into his battered old sea-chest, which had only just

survived their most recent voyage, and Ferris was saying

sharply, "Don't think I do not see you with that bottle,

Mr. Allen; you may pour it out directly, do you hear?"

He had a great many new men aboard, replacements for the

unhappy number of his crew who had been lost in their

year's absence. Jane had sent them all on trial, for his

approval, but in the torment and anxiety of the past two

weeks, and the heavy work of those before, he had grown

only indifferently acquainted with them; now suddenly there

was no more time, and he must make do with whomever had

been given him. He was not a little sorry to be making his

farewells to a man whose character he knew and understood,

and upon whom he would have been happy to rely.

"I expect you will find us all to pieces," Granby said,

"with half of England on fire, and Arkady and his lot

celebrating in the ruins, roasting cows; it will be

wonderful otherwise."

"Tell Arkady from me that they are all to mind properly,"

Temeraire said, craning his head over carefully, so as not

to dislodge the harness-men scurrying upon his back, "and

that we will certainly be back very soon, so he need not

think he has everything all to himself, even if he does

have a medal now," he finished, still disgruntled.

They were prolonging their conversation over a cup of tea

when a young ensign came for Laurence. "Begging your

pardon, sir, but there is a gentleman to see you, at the

headquarters," the boy said, and added, in tones of

amazement, "a black gentleman," so a very puzzled Laurence

had to say his last farewells more abruptly and go.

He came into the officers' common room; there was no

difficulty in picking out his guest, although Laurence

struggled for a moment before recalling his name: Reverend

Erasmus, the missionary whom Wilberforce had presented to

him, at the party two weeks before-had it been so short a

time? "You are very welcome, sir; but I am afraid you find