Black Powder War

But Tharkay answered their many questions readily enough, and having fed his eagle and set it aside, hooded, to sleep, he even opened up the kit which had carried him there so that they might inspect the vital equipment: a special sort of desert tent, fur-lined and with leather-reinforced holes spaced evenly along the edges, which he explained could be lashed quickly together with similar tents to form a single larger sheet to shield a camel, or in larger numbers a dragon, against sandstorm or hail or snow. There was also a snug leather-wrapped canteen, well-waxed to keep the water in, and a small tin cup tied on with string, marks engraved into it halfway and near the rim; a neat small compass, in a wooden case, and a thick journal full of little hand-sketched maps, and directions taken down in a small, neat hand.

All of it showed signs of use and good upkeep; plainly he knew what he was about, and he did not show himself over-eager, as Riley had feared, for their custom. “I had not thought of returning to Istanbul,” Tharkay said instead, when Laurence at last came around to inquiring if he would be their guide. “I have no real business there.”

“But have you any elsewhere?” Granby said. “We will have the devil of a time getting there without you, and you should be doing your country a service.”

“And you will be handsomely paid for your trouble,” Laurence added.

“Ah, well, in that case,” Tharkay said, a wry twist to his smile.

“Well, I only wish you may all not have your throats slit by Uygurs,” Riley said in deep pessimism, giving up, after he had tried once more at di

“I will not let anyone slit your throats at all,” Temeraire said, a little indignantly. “Although I would like to see an Uygur; is that a kind of dragon?”

“A kind of bird, I think,” Granby said; Laurence was doubtful, but he did not like to contradict when he was not sure himself.

“Tribesmen,” Tharkay said, the next morning.

“Oh.” Temeraire was a little disappointed; he had seen people before. “That is not very exciting, but perhaps they are very fierce?” he asked hopefully.

“Have you enough money to buy thirty camels?” Tharkay asked Laurence, after he had finally escaped a lengthy interrogation as to the many other prospective delights of their journey, such as violent sandstorms and frozen mountain passes.

“We are going by air,” Laurence said, confused. “Temeraire will carry us,” he added, wondering if Tharkay had perhaps misunderstood.

“As far as Dunhuang,” Tharkay said equably. “Then we will need to buy camels. A single camel can carry enough water for a day, for a dragon of his size; and then of course he can eat the camel.”

“Are such measures truly necessary?” Laurence said, in dismay at losing so much time: he had counted on crossing the desert quickly, on the wing. “Temeraire can cover better than a hundred miles in a day at need; surely we can find water over such an expanse.”

“Not in the Taklamakan,” Tharkay said. “The caravan routes are dying, and the cities die with them; the oases have mostly failed. We ought to be able to find enough for us and the camels, but even that will be brackish. Unless you are prepared to risk his dying of thirst, we carry our own water.”

This naturally putting a period to any further debate, Laurence was forced to apply to Sir George for some assistance in the matter, having had no expectation, on his departure from England, that his ready funds should need to stretch to accommodate thirty camels and supplies for an overland journey. “Nonsense, it is a trifle,” Staunton said, refusing his offered note of hand. “I dare say I will have cleared fifty thousand pounds in consequence of your mission, when all is said and done. I only wish I did not think I was speeding you on the way to your destruction. Laurence, forgive me for making so unpleasant a suggestion; I would not like to plant false suspicions in your head, but the possibility has been preying on me since you decided upon going. Could the letter by any chance have been forged?”

Laurence looked at him in surprise, and Staunton went on, “Recall that the orders, if honest, must have been written before news of your success here in China reached England—if indeed that news has reached them yet. Only consider the effect upon the negotiations so lately completed if you and Temeraire had unceremoniously gone away in the midst of them: you would have had to sneak out of the country like thieves to begin with, and an insult of such magnitude would surely have meant war. I am hard-pressed to imagine any reason the Ministry should have sent such orders.”

Laurence sent for the letter and for Granby; together they studied it fresh in the strong sunlight from the east-facing windows. “I am damned if I am any judge of such things, but it seems Lenton’s hand to me,” Granby said doubtfully, handing it back.

To Laurence also; the letters were slant and wavering, but this kind of affliction, he did not say to Staunton, was not uncommon; aviators were taken into service at the age of seven, and the most promising among them often became ru

“Who would bother with it, any road?” Granby said. “That French ambassador hanging about Peking, De Guignes—he left even before we did, and by now I expect he is halfway to France. Besides, he knows well enough that the negotiations are over.”

“There might be French agents less well-informed behind it,” Staunton said, “or worse, with knowledge of your recent success, trying to lure you into a trap. Brigands in the desert would hardly be above taking a bribe to attack you, and there is something too convenient in the arrival of this message, just when the Allegiance has been damaged, and you are sure to be chafing at your enforced delay.”

“Well, I make no secret I had as lief go myself, for all this nay-saying and gloom,” Granby said as they walked back to their residence: the crew had already begun the mad scramble of preparation, and haphazard bundles were begi

“And of half the boys, if they have not been spoilt already,” Laurence said grimly, observing the antics of the younger officers, who were not entirely reconciled to being so abruptly put back to work, and were engaging in more boisterous behavior than he liked to see from men on duty.

“Allen,” Granby called sharply, “mind your damned harness-straps, unless you want to be started with them.” The hapless young ensign had not properly buckled on his flying-harness, and the long carabiner straps were dragging on the ground behind him, bidding fair to trip him and any other crewman who crossed his path.

The ground-crew master Fellowes and his harness-men were still laboring over the flying rig, not yet repaired after the fire: a good many straps stiff and hard with salt, or rotted or burnt through, which needed replacing; too, several buckles had twisted and curled from the heat, and the armorer Pratt panted over his makeshift forge on shore as he pounded them straight and flat once more.

“A moment, and I will see,” Temeraire said, when they had put it on him to try, and leapt aloft in a stinging cloud of sand. He flew a small circuit and landed, directing the crew, “Pray tighten the left shoulder-strap a little, and lengthen the crupper,” but after some dozen small adjustments he pronounced himself satisfied with the whole.