“Those trees have been cut, not torn up,” Laurence said, after some further study. “How the devil have they managed to cut down a hundred trees—”
“They are cutting down another, over there,” Gerry piped up, and looking Temeraire saw not a heavy-weight but three light-weight dragons instead, who were using a kind of saw which was little more than a long toothed chain with one end run around a wheel, which two of them turned rapidly by a crank while the third steadied the tree; the trunk was being torn through at extraordinary speed, and when it had been reduced to only a thin sliver, a heavy-weight was waved down; when she had seized it, several men chopped at the remaining portion with axes until she was able to break it off and carry it away.
“They will have a palisade by morning, at this rate,” Laurence said.
As they returned towards their own encampment, towards the Russian rear, Temeraire stopped briefly to speak with Grig, who with his fellows was perched on a hill watching not the preparations for the battle, but the Chinese supply operations, behind their lines: the thirty cooking-pits, spaced at intervals so three niru might gather to eat around each one; two pigs and a great deal of wheat had gone into each one, and the bubbling stews were now being attended by five of the Shen Lung, who were stirring at occasional intervals, while another five were busy digging additional watering-holes with the assistance of their crews; the rest were napping while their crews worked on spare harness or cleaned them, or tended to the fighting-dragons who had come back with wounds to be tended.
“How many of you there are,” Grig said to Temeraire, in amazement, “and how well all of you eat! I haven’t seen so many dragons ever, except in the breeding grounds when I was hatched, and no-one gets enough to eat there.”
He looked down at his own covert as he spoke. The twenty Russian heavy-weights were presently feasting on what Temeraire could not deny were some very handsome cows, which would have been splendid if properly roasted, or perhaps stewed with some potatoes. But the Russian aviators plainly had no notion of anything of that sort, and the resulting scene was little better than an abattoir, the heavy-weights all tearing the cows apart violently, snapping and hissing at one another in arguing over the best bits of the innards in a very showy way, meanwhile scattering and wasting a great deal of the meat, and most of the blood sinking into the ground. Temeraire sniffed and turned aside.
“There is no reason that a great many dragons cannot partake in battle, and eat well, too, if only things are managed properly, and everyone has a fair share,” he said. “Our supply-dragons are paid for their work, too,” he added to the assembled dragons, who had cautiously edged a little closer to hear, “which is like being given treasure.”
Grig and several of his companions tittered softly together at this, as though Temeraire had made an excellent joke; Temeraire put back his ruff and said severely, “I am not making fun! They are paid wages, which are put into a bank account, and which they can take out as gold and silver, whenever they should like. Look!” He pointed at one of the Shen Lung just then flying in with a load of rocks, which she meant to use for damming up a stream. “Look, you can see for yourselves, Lung Shen Mei, there, has a very handsome gold chain about her neck.”
The Russian dragons looked, and were silent; one of them said, low, “It is enough to make one think,” and many of the others rustled their wings uneasily, and eyed Temeraire and one another sidelong; they edged in towards one another and away from the speaker, who flung his head back defiantly, though he also threw a nervous look at Temeraire.
“Well, you should think,” Temeraire said, “that you needn’t live in such a wretched manner as you do. You ought to have liberties, and be paid wages if you do choose to obey orders—which you needn’t, if you do not want to—”
“But if we do not obey, they will send us back to the breeding grounds,” one said, “to go hungry.”
“If they do not give you enough food, they cannot complain if you go and take some, elsewhere,” Temeraire said. “It is not as though they can make you stay there, if you do not like to.”
They all stared at him, as though he had said something very peculiar; but before Temeraire could inquire further, a Russian aviator came out from his tent and saw them speaking together, and began shouting and pointing at them, cracking his short whip. He jerked on the chain of one of the heavy-weight dragons, rousing him up and turning him towards the assembled group, and the small dragons burst away in a frightened cloud, dispersing.