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"I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for interrupting your dinner; my errand cannot wait. Is Captain William Laurence here?"
The messenger's voice was of a light timber and cut quite like crystal; it would not have been out of place in a well-appointed drawing room in England. Laurence froze momentarily in surprise at it, the cultured tones reminding him of Edith or of his mother. He stood belatedly; as he came closer, he saw the messenger's dark eyes, lined with kohl and with a wry glint, and was further struck. This was a woman, surely. He had been in company enough of women aviators to not be entirely shocked that she was clad in men's garb, and yet the eagle with its baleful glare on her arm and the state of her clothing was so obviously indicative of sustained and dangerous travel that he was shocked nonetheless.
"I-- thank you," he said haltingly, cutting himself off before he could utter the madam which came instinctively to his lips. He took the sealed oilskin packet from her carefully.
"I am glad to have been of service." Something in his reaction must have put her on her guard, for her gaze was shuttered now. Laurence began to have doubts, for nothing in her voice or look now struck him as feminine. The woman-- was she a woman?-- glanced about the room, bowed briefly to Staunton, and left as quickly as she'd come.
"Pray go and give Mr. Tharkay some refreshment," Staunton said quietly to a nearby servant, and Laurence felt immediately embarrassed. That he had mistaken a man for-- well, no matter. The man's oddly cultured voice in contradiction with his outlandish appearance had merely thrown him off. Fortunately, it was quite unlikely he would ever see Mr. Tharkay again.
-----
To Laurence's private dismay, it became clear as they discussed their circumstances over the course of the evening that Mr. Tharkay was likely their best option for gathering information and perhaps even to engage as a guide, were they to seriously consider reaching Istanbul by land rather than by sea. As Staunton's hesitations regarding the man seemed primarily to be rooted in Tharkay's background - namely that his mother was not English, even if his father was - Laurence felt no compunctions about seeking him out, if only to learn from him what the overland route might entail. He had spent enough time amongst the Chinese at this point to know that honor and dependability could not only be found amongst the English, and that to assume otherwise was pure folly.
And yet he was apprehensive as they approached Tharkay's temporary lodgings in the Chinese quarter of Macao. Not because he did not trust that Tharkay may be of some use to them, no; because he did not know how to best to address him. He was keenly aware of his near gaffe the previous evening in mistaking Tharkay's sex and did not want a repeat of the incident. He steeled himself as he and Granby entered and reminded himself once more that Tharkay was a man, and that he would treat him as a man, regardless of any tells he might make to the contrary.
Tharkay was cautious of them and yet generous in his information. Laurence examined his accoutrements of travel with no little curiosity; the contents of Tharkay's pack were worn but well-cared for and spoke of a man who knew what he was about. Laurence chided himself for looking for those articles which might mark Tharkay as being of the other sex, yet there was nothing. Of course there was nothing, it was Laurence who was still-- still!-- making erroneous assumptions and to no purpose. As they shook on their agreement, for Tharkay had thankfully agreed to serve as their guide to Istanbul, he vowed to himself that he would no longer allow Tharkay's strange mannerisms to fool him into thinking he was anything other than a man.
-----
And yet, as they travelled through pastoral China and then the Gobi and into the Taklamakan, Laurence could not wrest his mind away from his initial assumptions. He noted the fine bones in Tharkay's wrists on the occasion that the sleeves of his coat, serviceable but worn and somewhat ill-fitting, rode up his arms. He observed that Tharkay, unlike the other grown men of their party, never once made the attempt to shave - he didn't seem to need to. Nor did Tharkay ever shed so much as his coat to wash when in the presence of others.
This could all be explained by Tharkay's foreign blood, certainly, and by his seeming lack of interest in associating more closely with Laurence and his crew. But Laurence had a feeling there was more behind Tharkay's behavior than simple mistrust; he was becoming more and more convinced that the man had something to hide.
As they settled in the ferals' cave after the unfortunate avalanche, Tharkay once more held himself aloof, spending time talking with the ferals in that strange, whistling language rather than indulging in the chance to bathe and warm himself in the cave's incongruously heated pools. Instead, as the evening wore on, Tharkay stayed near the cooking fire, sharpening a bewildering array of knives in between the calls for his translation services. The meal was eventually consumed and Laurence lost track of Tharkay then for a time as he assisted in settling the injured men to sleep in a sheltered part of the cave. The rest of the men settled against Temeraire's warm bulk with only a scanty watch; they were all too exhausted for much else.
But Tharkay was not among them, and Laurence had hoped to speak to him once more before taking his own rest. He found himself creeping back towards the pools in search of the man, which were now surrounded by sleeping and snuffling ferals whom he had no desire to wake. The cooking fire was still burning lowly and threw shadows across their backs and flickers of red and orange over the steaming pools... and also shimmered across the golden skin of Tharkay's back, wet and dripping, as he climbed smoothly out of the pool with nary a splash to betray him.
Laurence backed further into the shadows, unwilling to disturb the man until he once again had the armor of his clothing between them. Then Tharkay turned, and-- ahh.
Tharkay was, in fact, a woman. What questions Laurence had for him - for her - about the next stage of their journey fled Laurence's mind with the clear evidence of Tharkay's sex, to be replaced with a wave of embarrassment and a dreadful curiosity. Observing her thus was certainly an invasion of her privacy and he turned away, melting further into the shadows as he crept back to Temeraire as noiselessly as he was able.
Tharkay's reticence was made perfectly clear now. Laurence could not be entirely sure what reasons she had for hiding her sex, but he strongly suspected it was her means of protecting herself from the dangers of the men she might meet in the course of her chosen profession. He knew that she had travelled alone through the wilderness so as to bring him the message from Lenton; surely doing so would be much more dangerous as a woman than as a man. Though why she had chosen such a profession to begin with-- well, it was certainly unbecoming of a lady to do so. Perhaps this was another reason she hid herself, so she could do what other women could not.
Laurence thought of Harcourt, and of Jane, and of the other women aviators he had met, and the relative freedom each had obtained by dint of doing the work which would normally be in the sole arena of men. He tried to imagine Jane as the mistress of an estate and was unable to do so. But he could certainly imagine Jane in a position such as Tharkay's, had she not already been promised to the Corps.
Tharkay did not seem to have seen him, thank goodness, for she was no more reticent in Laurence's presence than usual the following morning. He was unsure if he should let it be known to her that he was aware of her situation, if only to reassure her that at least among aviators, her safety was near certain. She must have been aware of Emily's presence and acceptance in their party, after all, child though she still was.
But Tharkay obviously did not want her situation known, else she surely would have been less circumspect on the matter; it was clear she still did not fully trust Laurence or his men. Laurence did not wish to extinguish what little trust had built between them thus far. He resolved to stay silent, at least for the time being, and to attempt to give Tharkay the benefit of the doubt in hopes of building the trust which would enable him to reassure her of her safety and of his protection.
-----
Tharkay would continue to disappear, however, in a manner which made it clear she did not trust them still. Surely she understood she would be better protected were she to stay with them; he had to hold his tongue more than once in chastising her for fear she would take it amiss, and for fear that he would reveal that he knew her secret, and thus lose her trust entirely.
But Laurence could not hold his tongue when she appeared next to him after her longest absence yet, looking with shadowed eyes at the fresh whip marks on Dunne's and Hackley's bare backs. He had wondered this time whether she even intended to come back, whether her leaving was because she had been discovered and perhaps assaulted by one of his men, a fear all too real given the current circumstances. He pulled her away from the others so as to have some semblance of privacy before confronting her.
"If you have taken issue with any of my men, I must insist you tell me at once," Laurence said in a sotto voice, trying and failing to keep his anger from it. "I cannot ensure your safety if you persist in running off without a word."
She was silent for a moment, surveying him calmly with her dark eyes, though Laurence could see the tension in her posture. "I suggest, Captain, that you worry rather for your own safety," she said finally. "Your position here is precarious at best."
"This I have come to understand," Laurence practically growled. "But surely you--"
"I have taken the liberty of arranging a meeting with Mr. Maden." Tharkay cut him off rather rudely. "He will likely be able to shed more light on the matter."
"Mr. Maden," Laurence repeated, nonplussed. The name sounded familiar, but-- "You are speaking of the gentleman who engaged you to bring us our orders?"
"Yes. He is a banker here in the city. He invites you to dine; will you come?"
Laurence assented; they would leave at the change of the guard. Had she absented herself purely to obtain this meeting? Laurence was not sure what to think of her behavior now.
-----
Their rush through the sewers was both frantic and exhilarating and it took some time for Laurence to regain equilibrium once they had, together, reached a place of relative safety. They were alone now, in a place of peace, and Laurence decided the time was right to finally address himself to Tharkay, and his wish for her to feel comfortable amongst himself and his men while she yet accompanied them. He considered how to approach the conversation as she whetted her knife in the silence.
"I would say something to you on matters as they stand between us," he said finally.
She paused her work briefly. "Very well," she said, her voice low, and with nary a glance at him before she turned back to her whetstone. "Say what you will."
"I most assuredly owe you an apology, for earlier. I spoke in haste, and you did not deserve to be thus chastised, and certainly not by me."
Her face was placid. She said nothing, only watched him over her whetstone with her dark eyes. Laurence steeled himself to address what had been unsaid between them for so long now.
"The Aerial Corps is not- that is, it is an accepted practice for women to serve in the Corps, and I will of course ensure that no one on my crew would--"
She immediately cut him off, her eyes glittering sharply. He saw her knuckles were white where she gripped her knife and he eyed it, cautiously.
"I am a man," she ground out. "I have always been a man. I wish only to be seen as such."
Laurence blinked at her. At him? Had he truly been mistaken once again? But he had seen--
"I had thought--" he started, but once again, she forestalled him.
"You had thought I had hidden my sex so as to pass more safely through hostile territory and amongst hostile men. That is not and has never been the case. I am not a woman, regardless of the arrangement of my flesh, and I would thank you never to refer to me as such again."
Laurence stared, blinked, and... adjusted, as everything seemed to fall into place. Tharkay was-- he was-- of course he was cautious, of course he must find trust in others difficult, if he had spent his life thus far fighting those who would see him as something he was not. That he was also both English and not, both Oriental and not, could only have made trust that much harder for him to give, and to earn. Laurence would not-- no, he could not ignore that Tharkay had been a most stalwart guide and had gone above and beyond what Laurence ought to have expected of him, disappearances or no. Laurence felt immediately ashamed, for having been yet another in likely a long line of people who had seen in Tharkay something that was not, in truth, there.
"I do not know how I should apologize, Mr. Tharkay," Laurence said finally. "I would not have a man in my service who believes my trust and understanding cannot be earned. And I have understood you less than I ought. You have done Temeraire and myself a great service - many great services - and thus deserve far more from me than I have in truth given you. I cannot undo that, but I can correct it. I hope I may in safety promise to give no less than full measure of trust and acceptance to any man who gives me his, and I think I would be sorrier to lose you than I yet know."
Now it was Tharkay's turn to blink, a slow blink that accompanied the queerly uncertain look that flickered briefly across his face. "Should you truly intend to treat me as one of your trusted men while I yet accompany you, I suppose it would be churlish of me to refuse," he said finally, and presented his hand in a manner befitting any man. Laurence met it in a firm grip, which Tharkay matched easily, and Laurence was gratified to return the cautious smile on his face.
-----
Addendum: Australia
"Laurence, can I speak with you? In private?" Laurence looked up from his maps at Granby's approach; the man was looking rather nervous. They had been travelling through the deserts of Australia for a week already and all of them, even Tharkay, were displaying the effects of the ever-present sun. But the red splotches on Granby's cheeks went beyond a mere sunburn.
"Of course," Laurence said, gathering himself to stand with a glance at the rest of the men. A few were looking on curiously, but most were either asleep or too tired to acknowledge them as Granby led him away from the camp. Tharkay caught their eyes with a questioning look as they passed, and Laurence merely shrugged. Curiously, this interaction only seemed to make Granby's blush deepen.
When they had finally gained some privacy in the bushes beyond the river, thankfully free from signs of bunyip occupation, Granby seemed to have an astonishing amount of trouble saying what was on his mind. This was so wholly out of character for him that Laurence became quite worried, and finally burst out, "Good lord, John, but what is the matter?"
"I saw-- that is, Tharkay-- Will, Tharkay is a woman."
Laurence blinked at him. This was not at all what he had expected. "No, he isn't," he said, his surprise rendering his reply rather more blunt than it would have been otherwise.
"I'm sorry, Laurence, but I'm quite sure-- Yesterday, at the river-- I didn't mean to look, and he-- that is, she--"
Laurence cut Granby off before his stammering confession could get any more awkward than it already was. "You misunderstand me. I'm well aware of Tharkay's circumstances, and he considers himself to be quite male. As do I, for that matter."
"Oh. Oh. I see." Granby stood in front of him, looking rather gobsmacked, and Laurence hoped this would not prove an issue. "How long have you--" Granby was looking at him rather curiously now, and Laurence sighed.
"Since the steam baths in the Pamirs. I'm afraid I had to be forcibly corrected in my notions in Istanbul," he said ruefully.
"Oh. Oh, dear." There was a hint of a smirk on Granby's face now, and Laurence knew then he would be no trouble to Tharkay. "Well, I suppose it does explain a few things," he continued thoughtfully.
Laurence hummed in agreement, too relieved by Granby's easy acceptance of the matter to question it further. "Though I do suggest you refrain from questioning him about it. I needn't remind you of the number of knives he regularly keeps concealed about his person."
Granby sputtered a surprised laugh. "Then I shall certainly endeavor to treat him as I always have. I've enough scars as it is."
Laurence smirked briefly before his face shifted into a grimace. Granby gave him a questioning look. "No matter," Laurence waved him off. "I was just imagining how this conversation might have gone had you been Rankin instead."
"Lord," Granby said with a snort. "Perish the thought."
They shared a look, and Laurence could see the firm resolve in his friend's face. Laurence, of course, would stand in the way of anyone who would treat Tharkay with any less respect than he deserved. He found he was glad to have Granby on his - on Tharkay's - side in this as well.