Laurence had no idea how this was received: Mianning heard him out with no evidence of either impatience or sympathy. “We must permit events to unfold,” Mianning said only. “The situation of your army in the West is naturally of great concern to you.” Polite enough, but making no promises. “I suggest that you take this opportunity to observe the work of General Chu, and of our jalan: this will afford you opportunity to gain a better understanding of the management of aerial warfare as its principles are understood by our nation.” He did not say outright that he felt their understanding of those principles was far superior to the British, but he hardly needed to.
“When we have actually seen scale or tooth of any other dragon in this so-called company,” Captain Warren said, with some asperity, when Laurence had recounted his conversation, “it will be soon enough for us to be amazed. I suppose we have managed well enough against Boney, even with that Chinese worm of his whispering advice in his ear. If these fellows will only give us a few dozen beasts, I will thank them well enough, and they can keep their principles.”
“Pray not so loud,” Hammond said, glancing worried over his shoulder: he had nearly suffered an apoplexy at Laurence’s account. Mianning and his escort had already departed, but Chu droned in sleep in a warm forward corner of the pavilion, and the Jade Dragons lay in a neat row against the entry wall. Laurence did not think they were in any state to overhear, despite the thin gleaming slits of their eyes still cracked ajar, but the impression of being observed lingered, and he could understand Hammond saying, “Perhaps we ought to retire, gentlemen; we will surely have a long flight ahead of us again on the morrow.”
They parted, the captains each joining their own beasts; Laurence went first to see how his crew were settled. A folding screen, pilfered in haste from their quarters in the Imperial palace, made at least the illusion of a private space for Mrs. Pemberton and Emily in the corner, although when Laurence tapped and was invited to look in, he discovered that rather in defiance of their respective r?les, Emily had placed herself nearer the open floor, and her hand rested in her sleep upon her unsheathed sword.
Mrs. Pemberton yet sewed by the light of a candle. “Yes,” she said ruefully, “I am afraid she insisted, and asked what I would do if someone did choose to come in. As I had no answer to give but that I would certainly raise a cry, she told me I could do that perfectly well from behind her, while she taught the fellow a sharper lesson.”
“I am sorry to subject you to such a journey,” Laurence said; she had been swept along in their general pell-mell departure, but now he wondered if he ought send her by some escort back to the Potentate. He made the offer, but she avowed herself quite willing to endure the hardship.
“Emily has offered to teach me how to shoot her pistols, and to reload them,” she said, “and I believe I will take her up on the offer if you have no objections, Captain. Not that I am truly concerned at present, but as I understand it, we expect to be joined by a large force of soldiers?”
“How large,” Laurence said dryly, “remains to be seen.”
He bowed and took his leave of her, making note to speak to Forthing about arranging some guard of steady and respectable men for the ladies. He had not yet decided what to think of his first officer: it was perhaps the worst of his loss of memory, to have no measure, no sense, of those on whose judgment he had to rely; and he was the more disturbed to have some cause to doubt them. At least Forthing so far seemed steady enough—he was no gentleman, it was true, but that was a charge which many a good officer of the Navy could not answer. But Laurence knew nothing of him in any difficult circumstances, under exigency.
The rest of his men were sleeping on the other side of the folding screen, bundled into rough blankets and bedrolls. O’Dea and a few of the ground crewmen were engaged in a muttered game of cards, their legs stretched out around them and their deck so worn that the faces could scarcely be distinguished.
Baggy was sitting with them; Laurence silently caught him by the ear and drew him up and away, the boy scrambling to his feet wincing and stifling a yelp. “Take his cards, will you, O’Dea?” Laurence said. “Sleep well, men; we will do what we can tomorrow to see you do not have so cramped a time of it.”
“Ah,” O’Dea said, scooping up the cards, “and two queen in his hand; well, ’tis the wages of sin.” He tossed them into the discards. “No call to go to great lengths, Captain, when we are flying into a hive of very iniquitous rebels: the Old Nick can make us dance even if our legs are stiff when we get to him.”