“And Choque-Ocllo has given you a khipu, although even so I cannot say if they will let your men see the Sapa Inca,” she added. “Men and women have such short memories: but we have not forgotten the dreadful way Atahualpa was murdered. My own mother was alive at the time: three roomfuls of gold and silver were delivered in ransom for him, yet even so those evil men pulled him out into the great courtyard of Cajamarca and put a cord around his neck, and before anyone understood what was happening, he was strangled. Pahuac was watching all along. He threw himself off the mountains with his wings closed, afterwards, for letting it happen; after he had killed them all, of course.”
Temeraire hunched his shoulders up in horror. He had seen a hanging once, at the Channel: the traitor Choiseul, who had nearly abducted Captain Harcourt and passed secrets to Napoleon; and it had been carried out in front of his beast Praecursoris, also. But at least he had done something to invite his fate: they had not given heaps of treasure, and then been murdered out of hand.
“I do not see how Pahuac could have expected any such thing to happen: no-one could,” he said. “Those men must have been quite mad: certainly Laurence would never do anything of the sort.”
“Yes, but it is not every dragon who has the responsibility of protecting the Sapa Inca,” Curicuillor said. “Pahuac ought to have considered their being mad, and intervened sooner: but he was too afraid. That was not long after the pestilences first came, and so many were dead; he was ready to give over everything only to protect Atahualpa.
“To be fair,” she added, “those men had no dragons with them, so plainly even in your own country they were not worthy of being taken into any dragon’s ayllu: low peasants, or even thieves or murderers, I suppose.”
“Well, most men in Europe are not in any dragon’s keeping,” Temeraire said. “They are afraid of us; and also there are too many of them, and not enough of us, I think. In Britain there are ten million people, Laurence says: there was a census, in the year one.”
She had been lying at her ease, until then, her eyes half-lidded and drowsy even while she spoke; but at this she raised up her head quite wide-awake; and even the women hard at work interrupted their own conversations to stare. “Ten million men,” Curicuillor repeated. “Ten million? Is Britain a very large country?” When they had worked out the relative sizes as best they could from Temeraire’s memory, she sat back on her haunches. “Ten million, and in so small a place: there are scarcely three million in all Pusantinsuyo, these days.”
She bent her head low and was silent for several moments, desolately; her plumage flattened to her neck. Then she said to Temeraire, “You may tell them that, when you have come to Cusco: I am sure it will make them more likely to let you speak with the Sapa Inca. Ten million men! If only we had so many!”
Laurence could not be sorry to leave again, despite the unquestioned generosity of Curicuillor’s hospitality; he could not think her influence on Temeraire and the other dragons an unqualified good, in further encouraging them to embrace the local mode of thinking; and apart from this consideration a stay of any duration would surely have resulted in the rapid diminishment of their force. During the night three men had tried to creep away, and when the dragons were at last loaded for departure, Laurence was forced to ignore that another two had managed to desert despite all of Forthing’s best efforts, or there would have been no departure: in the time spent finding them, others would have run.
“Laurence,” Temeraire said frowning, when they put down for water a few hours later, “there is something wrong: we are short two men.”
So Temeraire had noticed two missing, out of nearly two hundred, when he had never before been so particular about passengers; there had of course been his favorites, among his crew, but until very lately he had rather disdained the sailors than valued them.
“Well, I do not much mind,” Temeraire said, when Laurence had persuaded him that they could not return and hunt for the deserters, “as they are not properly my crew, and I suppose we should have to give them up anyway when we come back to Britain.” He made this a question, and looked at Laurence; when Laurence had affirmed it, he sighed. “Do you think, Laurence, we shall receive a full crew again, when we have got back? It would be nice to be properly scrubbed, as a regular matter; and to have my harness better arranged, and looked-after.”
He was reconciled to the loss further when he considered that Curicuillor had provided them with an abundance of supply, and even made him a present of a pair of silver hoops, which Laurence with difficulty dissuaded him from having pierced through his wing-edges. “They would likely catch, in battle,” Laurence said.
“I am sure I could avoid that,” Temeraire said, “but it is quite true that only one pair would not be very impressive. When we should take a prize next, perhaps we may get a few dozen, and then it will be something like.”
“Something like a Covent Garden dancer,” Laurence said to Granby, with a sigh.