But he could not quite keep a wistful note from his voice; of course he would want his own dragon, and Laurence was certain that service as first lieutenant aboard a heavy-weight like Temeraire would ordinarily have meant a very good opportunity. Consideration for Granby was not an argument which could be made to Temeraire himself, of course, being a wholly unfair sort of pressure. On Laurence, however, it weighed heavily; he had been himself the beneficiary of a great deal of influence in his naval service, much of it even earned by merit, and he considered it a point of honor to do properly by his own officers.
He went outside. Temeraire had retreated further within the gardens; when Laurence at last came on him, Temeraire was still sitting curled quietly, his distress betrayed only by the furrows which he had gouged deep in the ground before him. His head was lowered upon his forelegs, and his eyes distant and narrow-slitted; the ruff nearly flat against his neck, sorrowful.
Laurence had no very clear notion of what to say, only wishing desperately to see him less unhappy, and almost willing to lie again if it would not hurt him the more. He stepped closer, and Temeraire lifted his head and looked at him; they neither of them spoke, but he went to Temeraire’s side and put his hand on him, and Temeraire made a place in the crook of his foreleg for Laurence to sit.
A dozen nightingales were singing, pent in some nearby aviary; no other sound disturbed them a long while, and then Emily came running through the garden and calling, “Sir, sir,” until panting she reached them and said, “Sir, pray come, they want to take Dunne and Hackley and hang them.”
Laurence stared, leapt down from Temeraire’s arm, and dashed back up the stairs to the court, Temeraire sitting up and putting his head anxiously over the terrace railing: nearly all the crew were out in the arched cloister, figuring in a wild noisy struggle with their own door guards and several other palace eunuchs: men of far greater position, judging by their golden-hilted scimitars and rich garb, and of more powerful mien, bull-necked and plainly not mutes, with furious imprecations flying from their lips as they wrestled slighter aviators to the ground.
Dunne and Hackley were in the thick of it; the two young riflemen were panting and fighting against the grip of the heavy-set men who clutched at them. “What the devil do you all mean by this?” Laurence bellowed, and let his voice carry over their heads; Temeraire added emphasis with his own rumbling growl, and the struggle subsided: the aviators fell back, and the guards stared up at Temeraire with expressions to suggest they would have gone pale if they could. They did not loose their captives, but at least did not attempt at once to drag them away.
“Now then,” Laurence said grimly, “what goes toward here; Mr. Dunne?” He and Hackley hung their heads and said nothing, an answer in itself; plainly they had engaged in some sort of skylarking, and disturbed the guards.
“Go and fetch Hasan Mustafa Pasha,” Laurence said to one of their own guards, a fellow he recognized, and repeated the name a few times over, the man glancing reluctantly at the others; abruptly one of the stranger eunuchs, a tall and imposing man in a high turban, snow-white against his dark skin and adorned by a sizable ruby set in gold, spoke commandingly to the guard; at this the mute at last nodded and set off down the stairs, hurrying away towards the rest of the palace grounds.
Laurence turned around. “You will answer me, Mr. Dunne, at once.”
“Sir, we didn’t mean any harm,” Dunne said, “we only thought, we thought—” He looked at Hackley, but the other rifleman was dumb and staring, pale under his freckled skin, no help. “We only went up over the roof, sir, and then we thought we might have a look round at the rest of the place, and—and then those fellows started chasing us, and we got over the wall again and ran back here, and tried to get back inside.”
“I see,” Laurence said, coldly, “and you thought you would do this without application to myself or Mr. Granby, as to the wisdom of this course of action.”
Dunne swallowed and let his head fall again. There was an uneasy, uncomfortable silence, a long wait; but not so very long, before Mustafa came around the corner at a rapid clip, the guard leading him, and his face red and mottled with haste and anger. “Sir,” Laurence said, forestalling him, “My men without permission left their posts; I regret that they should have caused a disturbance—”
“You must hand them over,” Mustafa said. “They shall at once be put to death: they attempted to enter the seraglio.”
Laurence said nothing a moment, while Dunne and Hackley hunched themselves still lower and darted their eyes at his face anxiously. “Did they trespass upon the privacy of the women?”
“Sir, we never—” Dunne began.
“Be silent,” Laurence said savagely.
Mustafa spoke to the guards; the chief eunuch beckoned forward one of his men, who answered in a voluble flow. “They looked in upon them, and made to them beckoning gestures through the window,” Mustafa said, turning back. “More than sufficient insult: it is forbidden that any man but the Sultan should look upon the women of the harem and have intercourse with them; only the eunuchs, otherwise, may speak with them.”
Temeraire, listening to this, snorted forcefully enough to blow the fountain-spray into their faces. “That is very silly,” he said hotly. “I am not having any of my crew put to death, and anyway I do not see why anyone should be put to death for talking to someone else at all; it is not as though that could hurt anyone.”
Mustafa did not try to answer him, but instead turned a narrow measured look on Laurence. “I trust you do not mean to thus defy the Sultan’s law, Captain, and give offense; you have, I think, had something to say on the subject of courtesy between our nations before.”
“On that subject, sir—” Laurence said, angry at this bald-faced attempt at pressure; and then swallowed the words which leapt to his tongue: such as a pointed remark that Mustafa had been quick enough to come at once on this occasion, though previous entreaties had found him so occupied he could not spare a moment.
Instead he controlled himself, and said after a moment, “Sir, I think perhaps your guard may have from zeal thought more transpired than did in fact occur; I dare say my officers did not see the women at all, but only were calling in hopes of catching sight of them. That is a great folly; and you may be sure,” he added, with heavy emphasis, “that they will suffer punishment for it; but to hand them over to death for it, I will not do, not on the word of a witness who has every cause to accuse them of doing rather more than less than they did, from a natural desire of protecting his charges from insult.”
Mustafa, frowning, appeared ready to dispute further; Laurence added, “If they had outraged the virtue of any of the women, I would without hesitation deal with them according to your notion of justice; but so uncertain a circumstance, with a single witness to speak against them, must argue for a degree of mercy.”
He did not move his hand to the hilt of his sword, nor signal to his men; but as best he could without turning his head, he considered their positions, and the disposal of their baggage, most of which had been stowed away inside the kiosques; if the Turks wished to seize Dunne and Hackley by force, he should have to order the men aboard directly, and leave all behind: if half-a-dozen dragons got into the air before Temeraire was aloft, it would be all up with them.