Tongues of Serpents (42 page)

Laurence laid the letters down, bleakly: in such circumstances, to be opening another front against an enemy far better equipped than the Tswana to wage war upon their shipping, seemed still nearer to madness. He sent Sipho for pen and paper, and began to add to his own letter, however late and useless it should be, to advise Jane of these new circumstances, and of his fears.

“At least they have made some progress here,” Temeraire said, meaning on the quantity of cattle, and Governor Macquarie was proven very reasonable, he felt, having allowed them each two cows after the ordeal of the journey, despite the expense to the colony. With the shortage, it seemed hard to see so many cattle and sheep loaded aboard the
Allegiance
for her provisions: Iskierka would at least be at sea, and might eat fish if she chose, in all their variety; there was no reason she ought not take instead some kangaroos, and perhaps some of the grey cassowaries, and there would be seals at New Amsterdam.

She was unswayed by this argument. “And I do not see that I owe you anything,” she added, with a flip of her tail, “when I consider how long the journey, and how many pains I have taken over it. You might at least have given me an egg, for all my trouble.”

“You have caused a good deal of trouble, yourself, and no one wished for you to come from the beginning,” Temeraire retorted, but guilt smote him painfully when he had said it: Iskierka
had
been of material service, he could not quite deny it in the privacy of his own conscience. He squirmed with discomfort, but he thought rather despairing that Laurence should never approve if he permitted selfish interest to outweigh justice, so Temeraire drew a deep breath and heroically said, “You might stay, I suppose, if you wished to.”

Iskierka snorted, disdainful, “As if anyone would wish to stay in this wretched country, where there is nothing fine to eat, and the only battles one can get, one is covered in stinking fish. No; and if you ask me, you are a great gaby to stay,” she added. “Granby says we will
likely go from Madras to Rio, instead of home, and have a splendid battle against those African dragons who ran you off before. I am sure we will do better.”

Temeraire flattened his ruff, from equal parts annoyance and envy; Madras—he had never seen Madras, or any part of India, although many pleasant things were always coming from there; and he understood all of Brazil to be thoroughly littered with gold, from what sailors said. Nor could Temeraire have any enthusiasm for the coming battle: as he understood they would only be dropping bombs, from aloft; and while he would be perfectly happy to clear away the serpents, who had proven to be so wretchedly difficult and stupid besides, Laurence thought it should certainly mean war with China.

But there was no choice: when the
Allegiance
had gone, and the latest frigate, and those of the merchant ships whose draught was too deep to bring them into the safety of the shallows, they would attack. Laurence also was making his farewells. “Pray give my best to Harcourt,” Laurence said, and then belatedly added, “—I mean to Mrs. Riley, of course; I hope you will find her much recovered, and the child well.”

“I suppose he will be talking by now,” Riley said, “if he hasn’t been dropped from dragon-back mid-air; I shan’t be surprised to hear it if he has.” He took the letters which Laurence had prepared, and those which Sipho had taken down for Temeraire.

“Captain Riley,” Temeraire said, “I know you are not very fond of each other, but if you please, I hope you will tell Lily that I send my regards, also; and she is very welcome to visit, she and Maximus, if they should ever choose to.”

“Oh,” Riley said, a little dismally; Temeraire did have to allow that Lily had been a little unreasonable towards him, but then, in a way one might say it was Riley’s fault that poor Harcourt had suffered so much, with her egg. “Yes; certainly I will convey your wishes.”

“I call it damned stupid and a waste besides,” Granby was saying to Laurence meanwhile, low, but not very low. “To leave you here, and with Rankin to command the covert; if one can even call it a covert when there are three dragons in it, and two as likely to throw him in the ocean as obey him.”

“I wish him very great joy of the command,” Laurence said dryly. “It is not likely to demand much initiative, and he may as well be here
as anywhere; he cannot do very much harm in the position, and he is welcome to the politicking. In all honesty, we would be at more of a standstill if Demane
were
confirmed in rank; from what we have seen of Governor Macquarie, I cannot imagine he would be in the least inclined to listen to a stripling, quite apart from his birth.”

“As far as that goes, Demane is as much an officer as he is a fish; so I don’t know you are worse off with Rankin, either,” Granby said. “No; but it is still a crime to leave you here to rot along with him, and I expect he will make a nuisance of himself; I don’t think he knows how to otherwise.
And
a prime heavy-weight,” he added, with still more frustration, “with not a prayer of getting him off the continent when the
Allegiance
has gone.”

Kulingile had outgrown Caesar a short way into their journey, to Temeraire’s private satisfaction, but it seemed to him Kulingile did not need to continue growing at such a pace now, when it plainly consumed so much of the available stores. Even if Iskierka was going away, that still did not leave them with so very many cows, and the hunting grew a good deal more tedious when anyone was taking half-a-dozen kangaroos at a time; soon they should have to fly several hours afield to find herds which could be culled.

“And you have surely heard several of the officers say that there is no use for a really big heavy-weight here in this colony,” Temeraire had said to him, when they had at last returned to the valley, and Kulingile had insisted on a portion of cattle just as large as those which Temeraire and Iskierka had commanded.

But Kulingile remained unimpressed by the hints which Temeraire dropped, and continued both to eat and to grow. “Of course he will not outgrow Maximus,” Temeraire murmured to Dorset interrogatively, when the second cow had vanished, and Kulingile was eyeing the rest of the herd with a sad, speculative gaze; Temeraire did not really see why Kulingile should outgrow
him
, either, but one did not wish to sound self-centered, or as though one would mind any such thing: it did not signify, of course, if one were a Celestial, even if Kulingile was also coming into a quite handsome pattern of golden scales, as he grew.

“Very likely he will,” Dorset said, writing in his log-book; he had been making a record of everything which Kulingile ate, and doing a
great deal of measuring with his knotted string, at least until Kulingile had grown so large that only his talons might so be measured in any reasonable amount of time.

Dorset added, “We will know he has begun to reach his growth when he ceases to be quite so rounded: that is when the body will have overtaken the air-sacs, and so begin to approach the limit.” But it was now more than a week later, and Kulingile still had a tendency to roly-poly, and if he was not quite as long as Temeraire, it would have been a little difficult to say he was decidedly smaller, if one should compare their shadows on the ground.

MacArthur was certainly very impressed by his appearance when he came up to the promontory that afternoon, presumably to speak with Laurence; but Laurence had gone down to the
Allegiance
to dine with Riley and Granby one final time before their departure, and so there was no one else to meet him. MacArthur paused at the edge of the hill, and asked Temeraire, “So this is the new one, I gather? Something prodigious, I see, for a few months out of the shell; he will have your measure if he goes on a little longer this way.”

“I suppose, if one is only concerned with
weight,”
Temeraire said, a little repressively.

“Ha ha,” MacArthur said, although Temeraire saw nothing very funny in it. “And does he have a captain?”

“He is mine,” Demane said, belligerently, having already raised his head to listen from where he and Roland were sketching out the proposed plan of attack upon the serpents, and arguing over its merits; Demane was inclined to dislike it only because Rankin had proposed it, and so was finding fault, where Roland had said impatiently, “Yes, he is a scrub, what has that got to do with fighting? If Laurence said to jump in the water and fight them, would you like to do it?”

MacArthur eyed Demane more than a little doubtfully, and then said something to him which did not make any sense: it was a little like the aboriginal languages which Temeraire had now heard bits of, mixed together with a great deal of English peculiarly pronounced. “What?” Demane said, justly baffled.

“He thinks you’re one of their natives!” Sipho said, without looking up from his book. “We are from Africa, and we aren’t stupid, either; you needn’t talk like you are babbling to a child.”

“Well, that is handy,” MacArthur said. “It is a shame more of you black fellows cannot speak better English.”

“It is a shame you can’t speak better Chinese, too,” Sipho said, not quite under his breath, to which MacArthur said, “Why, I cannot say I would mind it these days,” and laughed again, ha ha, and said to Demane, “Now then, how did that come about: you are never an officer?”

“I am, too,” Demane said defiantly, “whatever Captain Rankin may have said; he wanted to have Kulingile killed, when he was hatched, so,” he spat, “that, for him, and anyone else who likes to deny me, I am happy to meet them anytime they like.”

“Well, for my part you may keep your sword in its sheath,” MacArthur said, “and I am happy enough to call you captain if the dragon does; there’s the real sticking-point of the business, after all. I suppose the other fellows are being sticklers over it?” he added shrewdly, and Demane looked mulish.

“You will be sticking here with this big fellow, I gather: what do you mean to do, stick here in this covert?” MacArthur went on. “A little uncomfortable, with a grousing pack of envious fellows about; you might do better to go it your own way, after all—with your own piece of land, and raise cattle of your own.”

Demane took a low startled breath; there was nothing more highly valued in his childhood society than cattle, at once survival and currency: orphan and impoverished, he had risked his life willingly to become the possessor of a cow, which yet remained in some corner of his spirit a standard of wealth. MacArthur might as well have said, that Demane ought to dig up a chest all full of treasure, and pointed him in its direction. “I might,” he said, attempting to be a little cool about the matter, and sounding merely wary.

“Well, keep it in mind,” MacArthur said. “There is no need to make any hasty decisions; only you might think it over, whether it would suit you.”

He asked after Laurence, then, and hearing he was at dinner touched his hat and went away, not without promising another pair of cattle, “With a yearling beef for the littler fellow,” he said, meaning Caesar, “and that way you don’t need to squabble it with this—Kulin
ghee
lay, did you say?” as though Temeraire would have squabbled anyway, in some undignified manner. “Give your captain my regards,” he concluded, and so departed, leaving Demane to say to Roland in an undertone, “It would suit me better than scraping to Rankin.”

“As though you would, anyway,” Roland said, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t be an ass; he probably wants to see if you can be persuaded to fetch and carry for him, or something like, at a bargain price.”

“Do you suppose he might like something carried at
not
a bargain price, if he could not get better?” Temeraire inquired; though Roland abjured the idea scornfully, as beneath the dignity of an aviator to consider, Demane was of very like mind when Temeraire said to him privately, afterwards, “But if he or some other person were prepared to pay in cows, no one could object,
I
find, to doing him some service.”

There would be time yet to consider; at present, the question and MacArthur’s visit both were driven quite from his mind, for the wind had shifted: not very strong, but enough to rattle the spars a little, and in the ideal quarter. There was a consultation going forward on the deck of the ship, which Temeraire could see in the fading light: the young officers on duty peering up and calling questions to the crow’s nest. They were a little while at it and resolved not too soon: below in the street, the doors to the inn opened, where the men had gone to dine, just as the ship fired away a blue light and the small blue pennant rose up on the mast to summon all her officers aboard.

Laurence came up the hill slowly and rested his hand on Temeraire’s side as the ship’s launch rowed back out, the guests from dinner crawling up the side one after another; the men were already at the two massive capstans, marching around, as the sails billowed out in sheets of rolling white.

“Good-bye!” Iskierka called from the dragondeck, her voice carrying over the water. “Good-bye! I will tell Granby to write you whenever anything interesting should happen.”

Temeraire sighed a little, and put his head down upon his forelegs as the
Allegiance
began her slow and stately progress: the evanescing light orange-pink and steam wreathing her foremast from Iskierka’s spikes, spilling up the belled sails and trailing away; shouts, calls, the bell rung at the quarter-hour came distantly. The ship was moving towards night, away, and the curve of the land gradually concealed the hull so that one saw only the sails gliding; a little longer, and then only the lantern-gleam high up, if Temeraire sat upon his haunches and stretched his neck. Then even that faded to just the gleam of the stars coming out, and between one blink and another, Temeraire lost the track, and she was gone. The
Allegiance
was gone: the first he had ever sat upon the shore and watched her leave.

The harbor looked strangely empty and smaller with her out of it,
as though one could not quite imagine that any ship so large had been in that place, and all the other ships which had looked so small beside her now seemed ordinary in size and respectable. “There is no reason she should not come back someday,” Temeraire said to Laurence, “of course; after all, a ship may go anywhere it likes, and she was sent here once. They might like to send some other dragons. And oh! it would be so very tedious to be sailing another eight months, as Iskierka is likely to do—if she is not sent to Brazil, that is,” he finished rather despondently. He was sure Iskierka
would
be sent to Brazil, it would be just the sort of thing which happened to Iskierka; it did not seem very fair that anyone so careless should have acquired heaps of treasure, and all the ship’s stores of cattle to herself, and also have a great deal more fighting, and everything pleasant.