Chapter Text
Even the aerobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift
-- Robert Graves, “Flying Crooked”
***
The only bright spot was, that in the uncertainty around Levitas’s condition, Laurence had put Hollin forward for the Winchester hatching at Chatham, and Admiral Lenton had agreed. Two days after the battle, they’d gotten word that the dragonet had accepted him. The egg had hatched the same day Hollin had arrived, but the news had been delayed by the shortage of couriers after the battle. Even the featherweights had been granted a few days rest.
But even pride at their own role in the unexpected victory couldn’t cover up the sour, sinking feeling in Laurence’s stomach, as the surgeon once again looked at Levitas’s wing and solemnly shook his head.
“I don’t understand,” said Temeraire, with what Laurence thought–uncharitably–was an uncharacteristic and somewhat intentional obtuseness, “His wings look fine, and the wound is closing.”
“My dear,” Laurence said softly, “The muscle has been all but cut. He might stretch out his wings, perhaps in time, he might even glide a little. But not for long periods of time, or under full harness. He will never again be fit for courier duty.”
Indeed, he thought privately that the surgeon’s prognosis of even such limited improvement was likely an excess of optimism. Levitas had said the pain was mostly gone, and yet, when he tried to lift his left wing, it merely twitched and flopped across the ground, like a dying animal.
But Temeraire just snorted and said, “Messoria’s lieutenant is missing an arm and manages with a hook. Surely something can be done for Levitas’s wing. I will speak to the surgeon.”
And he bounded off. Really it was just a single leap to intercept the surgeon, who was surely heading to report on Levitas’s condition to Admiral Lenton.
Laurence just sighed and let him go. It was probably best he heard it from the expert who could explain things better than Laurence could. But he did quicken his pace so as to meet them. He didn’t want Temeraire to pull the other man from his duties for too long. And many men of the Corps were known to become a bit harried when met with the full force of the Imperial’s curiosity. They may be used to the antics of 20-ton dragons, but few were as curious as Temeraire. Laurence was inclined to think it a mark in his own dragon’s favor, but at times it frustrated command. Indeed, he could see how in some ways Temeraire wasn’t cut out for the repetition that was such a prominent facet of the service. Sometimes he wondered if it was his own failing, in the unusual way he’d brought Temeraire up on the ship, instead of accustoming him to the demands of the Corps from birth. But Temeraire’s natural intelligence, curiosity, and sensitivity were so marked that he couldn’t really believe it. Surely, the Chinese had bred his line for some higher purpose than ordinary military drudgery.
But in this case, as Laurence approached, he found the surgeon–Green–to be an enthusiastic participant in the conversation, rather than one unwillingly waylaid by the overeager dragon.
“In such cases, with Walsh’s arm, the muscle that moves the forearm is intact, and something as simple as carved wood or a hook can act as a replacement. This case is much harder. The wing remains, but the ability to move it is compromised. If we could build and power such a support, humans would have flying ships of our own.”
At that, Temeraire’s ruff rippled, as if he was offended. “Surely a flying ship could never be as graceful as a dragon,” he said, tone almost alarmed.
“Ah,” said Green, “Of course not. And it has never been done, so who can say if such a thing is possible. But either way, we have no such abilities to draw on to replace Levitas’s wing muscles. Perhaps a brace could be fashioned, to lock his wing into a gliding position, but even then, it is impossible that such a thing would allow for full flight.”
Temeraire seemed encouraged by the idea, “But that is still something. We must build him this brace.”
But Green was shaking his head, “Even so, he will not be able to get off the ground, and with only one moveable wing, there’s no guarantee he would be able to turn.”
That, however, was insufficient to discourage Temeraire. “Well, I can take him up, and he could glide down off my back. That would work, wouldn’t it, Laurence?” He’d seen Laurence’s approach, and now turned his huge head to bring his captain into the conversation.
“Well,” said Laurence, reluctant to give false hope to Levitas, but also knowing that Temeraire was unlikely to be deterred, “if Mr. Green thinks it can be done, safely, and the patient is willing, I have no objections. But Temeraire, you must be careful not to make Levitas believe that he will fly again.”
Temeraire drooped a little, “I’ll be careful. Only, he has been so very lonely. Even though Roland, Granby, Allen, and the others have been looking out for him, his captain hasn’t seen him at all, and Hollin isn’t here anymore to bathe him and shine his scales. And I thought he’d feel better if he was in the air again.”
Laurence sighed internally. It was indeed shameful how Rankin had treated Levitas, and continued to treat him, when the little dragon, at great cost to himself, had made the man into something of a hero. He hadn’t told Temeraire, but it was very much expected that once Letivas was fully healed, he would be sent to the breeding grounds, and Rankin would likely as not be put to another hatchling, or at the very least, have a trial at a prime lieutenancy.
He turned to Green. “How would such a thing be done.”
Green scratched his head, “Well, he’s just about healed enough for it. As for constructing such a device, you’d do better to talk to your harnessmen, though I can provide some general guidelines.”
Which was how Laurence enlisted Fellowes to the project, though he made it clear that the endeavor should not impinge upon his duties to Temeraire’s equipment.
“It’s quite all right, sir,” said Fellowes. “None of us like to see a dragon laid so low.”
Indeed, the sentiment seemed to be shared by Temeraire’s whole crew. He had no shortage of volunteer help among Temeraire’s ground crew, and the midshipmen and runners also involved themselves in the project–fetching and carrying for Fellowes, as well as taking over little aspects of Levitas’s care.
Laurence, of course, had set them to the task originally. When Levitas had been so gravely injured, and his captain so unwilling to provide him with care, necessities, or even the barest scrap of comfort, he had assigned the runners to bring Levitas water and assist the surgeon with his wounds. He knew he was opening himself up to another accusation of officiousness, from Admiral Lenton this time instead of Celeritas, but he also couldn’t allow a dragon in such a delicate state to be abandoned. He consoled himself with the thought that, while before, it might have been a question of discipline, Levitas’s courier days were clearly behind him, and so, the interference could have no meaningful impact on his service.
He’d lightly broached the subject with Berkely, and the other man had given a single great guffaw. “I tell you, Lenton would have kicked him down to ensign if he could have, when he heard how that villain left Levitas bleeding in the dirt. I would have set my own men to tend him, if your crew hadn’t made such a pet of him already.”
Laurence still remained a little more uneasy, but he supposed that if Rankin wished to complain, he would do so, and until then, Laurence would act as his conscience demanded.
The brace was constructed with all speed, and in three days, Green was supervising its first fitting, while Fellowes gave instruction to Shipley and Winston as to what straps needed tightening.
Laurence had also come to observe, with Temeraire, and at first he was somewhat puzzled by the design of the brace. It consisted of straps around Levitas’s torso and forelegs, and clamps that seemed to go partway up the first wingjoint, on both wings.
“Very well,” said Green, “Now extend your wings–slowly,” and Levitas carefully unfurled his right wing, inch by inch, and brought it up, parallel to the ground. As he did, the left wing came up too–ungracefully, like a bolt of cloth being haphazardly stretched out on the ground, but by the time the right wing was fully extended, the left wing was mostly stretched out too.
“Is it comfortable?” asked Green.
“Oh,” said Levitas, “It’s quite nice.”
“Hmm,” said Green, “But you must tell us if it pinches anywhere, so we might fix it.”
Fellowes was already feeling all the places that might chafe, and hesitantly, Levitas directed him to the ones that were discomfitting him. Shipley was tightening some other straps, and as he did, the left wing drew out further, becoming fully taught.
***
“And you must land immediately, if you feel any pain,” Green said to Levitas, sternly.
“Oh yes, I will,” said the Winchester, very earnestly. He was practically bouncing with excitement as Winston wrapped his claws while the ground crew finished securing Temeraire’s harness.
The Imperial dragon gave a particularly vicious shake, and said, “All lies well. Come up, Levitas.”
It took another instant. Laurence himself examined the smaller dragon’s claws, to make sure he couldn’t tear Temeraire, and then Levitas made a great bound, and alit on Temeraire’s back more delicately than should have been possible for a two-ton dragon. Granby scrambled up after him, and carefully placed a signal flag in Levitas’s foreclaw. He would drop it if he got into trouble, so they could direct Temeraire to support him. As a last step, two members of the ground crew passed up a heavy chain, to connect the center ring on Levitas’s modified harness to the main strap on Temeraire’s.
Nearly all of Temeraire’s crew had agreed to give up their day of leisure to be present for the attempt, but he was only taking the signal ensign, Granby, and three of the bellmen into the air. He didn’t want to worry about an injured dragon landing on his crew, and they weren’t going to do any formal maneuvers.
Temeraire carefully lifted Laurence to his position, and he said softly to the dragon, “Gently now, my dear.”
Temeraire didn’t reply, but his take off was slow, and at a shallow angle, rather than his normal leap into the air. He flew in a wide circle, ascending until all of the covert had grown small beneath them, and then he turned his head expectantly.
“When you’re ready, Levitas,” Laurence said, and the little dragon shifted a little, nervous, and then he spread his wings, and two of the bellmen shifted up to detach Levitas from the chain.
“Now, Temeraire,” said Laurence, and the black dragon folded his wings and dropped in an instant.
He caught himself in a hover a hundred feet below, and Laurence shaded his eyes to gaze up at the little Winchester, now well above them.
Levitas was gliding, and not falling, and the signal flag was still carefully gripped in his claw. He had managed to angle his right wing enough to take himself in a spiral, like a gentle downwards corkscrew, but he looked stiff and awkward in the air, with none of the grace a Winchester would normally possess.
That being said, he was staying up, and not falling.
Temeraire winged his way out from underneath the other dragon and came up beside him, monitoring his progress.
“Temeraire,” said Laurence, “He shouldn’t land on the ground.”
They had traversed perhaps half of the vertical distance, but Laurence was unwilling to let the other dragon overtax himself, even if he still clutched the flag, a signal that he could continue.
Temeraire himself made no argument, and instead executed a neat dive under the gliding dragon, and then gave a single powerful flap to push himself up, neatly into Levitas’s path. Levitas landed unsteadily on his withers, and tucked in his right wing. His left, however, while no longer held in artificial tension by the brace, now was caught by the wind.
Laurence saw the urgent danger, but no way to counteract it. “Temeraire–” he warned, and then the little dragon was blown over onto his right side, and nearly swept off the larger dragon’s back.
Temeraire swung to the right, catching him in his roll. Granby was saying urgently to Levitas, “Put your wings out again,” but Levitas’s right wing was now pinned under him, and he couldn’t right himself under the force of the wind on his left wing.
Laurence silently cursed the mishap. Surely the way that the wind was blowing about his newly healed wing couldn’t be good for the small dragon.
He wouldn’t fall at least. Temeraire’s quick turn had given them enough time. The bellmen had come up and refastened Levitas’s chain. Once they were done, Laurence spoke urgently to Temeraire, “Now roll, quickly. It will take the air from his wing.”
Temeraire barrel-rolled, and Laurence lunged back towards the Winchester, Granby with him, and two of the bellmen, and they all four put their weight on the wildly flailing wing, and pushed, and then, for a single instant as Temeraire turned fully upside down, the wing went slack and snapped close to Levitas’s torso, and Laurence breathed a sigh of relief.
They landed, and the surgeon ran up to them as the crew detached Levitas. Laurence and Granby were both grim-faced as the wing was examined.
“I feel quite all right,” said Levitas, but Laurence wasn’t truly relieved until Mr. Green confirmed that no harm had been done, though they should allow a few days before another attempt, so the bruising and soreness could heal.
Levitas’s safety confirmed, Laurence consulted with Fellowes, “There must be a way to pin the left wing when the right comes down.” Fellowes, frowning, sketched out a few possibilities. Seeing that he had taken ownership of the problem, Laurence left him to it.
Later that night, when Temeraire was curled around Laurence in his clearing, Laurence closed the book they were reading and said softly, “You must understand, my dear. They will still send him to the breeding grounds.”
Temeraire’s head jerked up. “But who will be able to take him flying at the breeding grounds? And he still has a captain. Will he go to the breeding grounds too?”
Laurnece sighed heavily, “I believe Rankin will be put to another dragon, or at least, given another position. But Levitas cannot fly. He cannot be in the Corps anymore.”
Temeraire flared his ruff. “I do not see why not. He is a very good sort of dragon, even if he is very small.”
“But my dear,” Laurence said, “He cannot fly in formation, nor can he be a courier.”
With a huff, Temeraire said, “I do not see why he should be thrown away like nothing, to be alone without his captain, when he was only injured because he was so very brave and brought the message in time.”
“It’s a hard service,” said Laurence. “Such injuries are the risks we run.”
Temeraire shook himself a little in displeasure, “But surely if I had such an injury, you would not let them take me to the breeding grounds while you stayed behind.” But there was a vulnerable note to his voice.
“Of course not,” Laurence said, fervently. “My dear, I would never allow you to go alone. And if not you, there is no other dragon I would accept.”
“Of course I know that,” said Temeraire, though he did actually sound a bit reassured, “But it is so unfair that Levitas has done so much and is so poorly rewarded. He should stay here with us, and be a part of my crew.”
Out of surprise, Laurence gave a little huff of laughter, “I’m sure the admiralty would have something to say about that.”
“I don’t see why,” said Temeraire obstinately. “He is very light. I could carry him. And I think he would do very well to repel boarders, once the brace design is fixed.”
“Temeraire,” said Laurence, now a little concerned that the dragon was taking the idea more seriously than it really merited. “Any dragon that flies into battle must fly with a captain. But Levitas can’t take even the weight of even one person. Which means you would have to fly Rankin, if he even consented to the experiment, which surely he would not, when he can get another dragon easily enough.” The last part he might have said rather bitterly.
“I certainly will not take Rankin!” said Temeraire, offended. “And I don’t see why I should have to. If he can cast off Levitas as his dragon, then I don’t see why Levitas must keep him as his captain.”
Laurence stroked him softly on the velvet of his snout. “It might not make sense to you or I, but I cannot imagine that Levitas will wish to put his captain aside. And even if he did, then he would have no captain, and would be for the breeding grounds anyways.”
Temeraire made a sound that was not quite agreement, and said, “You humans always make things so difficult. I’m sure if dragons had the organization of ourselves, we would do things up much more nicely.”
Laurence smiled, “Maybe so.”
“I shall talk to Obversaria about Levitas tomorrow. Since she is the flag dragon.” And on that rather ominous note, he put his head down, as if the issue was settled, and it was time for sleep.
And so Laurence was hardly surprised when two days later, Admiral Lenton called him into his office.
“So, Laurence,” he said, “I’m sure you’ve heard some of your dragon’s newest ideas that he’s been spreading around. He feels he’s sewn things up quite nicely, I hear.”
“I have some idea,” said Laurence, cautiously.
Lenton gave him a long and considering look, “Well, we should’ve left you in the Navy, and sent Temeraire to the breeding grounds if we didn’t want our whole way of life upended. I see you and he both are determined to rework every tradition.”
“Sir, I—”
“But that notion he was spreading to Obversaria, that he might be Levitas’s captain–that will never stand.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Laurence.
Lenton gave a single guffaw. “Hadn’t heard that one had you? Well, it would serve that dragon of yours right if I told him that your crew could have Levitas, but only if you were Levitas’s captain. I reckon that would put an end to the idea immediately.”
He had the right of it, probably, despite Temeraire’s solicitousness towards Levitas. He was pretty sure the idea of sharing his captain was antithetical to Temeraire’s possessiveness.
“But I won’t do that,” said Lenton. “It’s not the most terrible idea.”
“Admiral–” said Laurence, for the first time in this conversation, truly shocked.
Lenton scratched his head, “Well it’s unconventional, I give you that, but we’ve suffered many unconventionalities at the Corps and it hasn’t ended us yet. I admit I’ll have to do some selling to the Admiralty, but I figure they might like it as a way to make some better use of the injured or captainless dragons. We will assign Levitas an official handler of course–someone from your ground crew–and you must get the dragon’s agreement. Rankin won’t go with him, you see.”
“I understand,” said Laurence solemnly.
Lenton laughed again, “But imagine the Frenchmen’s faces when they try to jump on your dragon’s back and meet a Winchester instead.”
***
Of course, there was a terrible blow to come, though Laurence hadn’t known exactly when it would land.
He’d been reading to Temeraire by lamplight under the shade of his great black wing when he was startled from his travails by a terrible sound of howling and moaning. It came unmistakably from the little clearing next to theirs, where Levitas had been installed.
Temeraire for once was in no hurry to investigate. Instead he crouched low and curled up more closely around Laurence, a picture of defensive posture.
“Temeraire…” said Laurence, “Let me go. I’m in no danger.” And very slowly and reluctantly did the dragon uncurl himself.
Just in time. A slightly disheveled Rankin emerged from the adjoining clearing. He cast a cold look in Laurence’s direction.
Temeraire answered with a low rumbling growl.
“Temeraire,” Laurence said, censoriously, placing a hand on the tensed foreleg. Temeraire’s ruff was fully extended and his teeth were bared.
To his credit, Rankin didn’t look cowed. Instead he readjusted his neckcloth, made a disdainful sound, turned towards the headquarters, and was gone.
Temeraire turned anxiously to look towards Levitas’s clearing. Nothing could be heard anymore from that direction. The Imperial dragon said, “Will he be alright?”
“In time, I expect,” said Laurence, though in truth he wasn’t quite sure. It was said to be a terrible blow, for a dragon to lose their captain in battle, and he imagined that this was even worse–not a death but a willing rejection, a casting-aside. “All the same, we’d better go to him.”
Temeraire didn’t respond. But his tail did swish back and forwards a few times, like an anxious cat.
Laurence saw Dyers scurrying into the clearing, and he hailed him, and said, “Go find Winston. Levitas will need company.”
Winston was a groundcrew man and lowborn, and so unlikely to be put to a dragon in the usual way. And Laurence had noticed Winston’s great attention during Levitas’s convalescence. He was barely more than a lad–perhaps 18 years of age–but he had the care and solicitude of one far older. Laurence had talked to him privately, to learn if he had any conflicting ambitions, before recommending him to the post, a recommendation Lenton had accepted.
Temeraire’s tail had calmed by then, and without further discussion, he lifted Laurence onto his back and then bounded to the other clearing, a single wing beat and then they gently touched down next to Levitas who was huddled sadly on the ground.
Temeraire curled around Levitas in an unusual display of affection. Levitas placed his head on Temeraire’s tail, but otherwise stayed where he lay, flat and despondent.
He said, “My captain doesn’t want me anymore. I can’t fly. He said he will go back to Loch Laggan and take another position, with another dragon.”
With each word, he seemed to shrink further into himself.
“Well who cares about your captain,” said Temeraire, rather undiplomatically. “You’re going to fly with me and repel boarders and we are going to take down the French and defeat Napoleon."
Levitas lifted his head briefly to listen, and then drooped down again as if he hadn’t really processed Temeraire’s words.
Winston hurried into the clearing and he clambered over Temeraire’s tail and gently patted an unresponsive Levitas’s snout.
“It’s alright,” Winston said softly, “I’ll stay with you tonight, and in the morning we can go down to the lake for you to bathe.”
“Oh yes,” said Temeraire, “I can take you on my back,” eager in his attempt at comfort.
“I can’t fly anymore,” said Levitas in his bird-like voice.
“Yes, but you can still bathe.”
“I can’t fly anymore. They’ll send me to the breeding grounds and I’ll never see my captain again.” His voice was flat. Utterly devoid of the emotion that usually suffused it.
“No,” said Temeraire, “I already said. You can fly with me and we’ll win lots of battles.” He grew more hesitant, “Like we’ve been practicing?”
“Levitas,” said Laurence, “You’ll have a choice of course. With your injury, there is no shame in going into retirement. But if you wish it, you may take Winston as your captain, and fly on patrols and into battle on Temeraire.”
At that the dragon did lift his head and say, “I could stay here, with my friends?”
“Yes,” said Temeraire, “And it will be much nicer than the breeding grounds I am sure.”
Levitas then turned more hesitantly to Winston, “You wish to be my captain?”
“Very much,” said the man, earnestly.
Levitas looked at him for a long time and then said, “Then if you wish it, we can fly together,” though his voice was still tentative.
“Come away, Temeraire,” said Laurence softly, and they left the two of them together and went back to their own clearing. Laurence didn’t pick up the book they’d been working through again, but Temeraire curled around him once more. Laurence didn’t return to his quarters. Instead, he spent the night dozing under Temeraire’s wing, until the dawn broke and brought with it the many duties of their service.