“She might have done all this and more besides,” Laurence said, “and made no headway against us, if the Turks had not been full willing to profit by it.”
“They have fallen in with Bonaparte for certain, and make no mistake,” Lieutenant Ferris agreed, smoldering, “and I wish they may have joy of it, when they are dancing to his tune; they’ll soon enough be sorry for it.”
“We will be sorrier, sooner,” Laurence said.
The shadow overhead silenced them all, but for Temeraire’s savage and rumbling growl; and the two Kaziliks sat up hissing anxiously as Lien circled down and landed gracefully in the clearing. Temeraire bared his teeth at her and snarled.
“You sound like a dog,” she said to him, cool and disdainful, in fluent French, “and your manners are not much different. Will you bark at me next?”
“I do not care if you think I am rude,” Temeraire said, tail lashing militantly, with much danger to the surrounding trees, walls, statuary. “If you want to fight, I am ready, and I will not let you hurt Laurence or my crew, ever.”
“Why should I wish to fight you?” Lien said; she settled herself back upon her haunches, sitting erect like a cat, with her tail coiled neatly around herself, and unblinking stared at them.
Temeraire paused. “Because—because—but do you not hate me? I would hate you, if Laurence had been killed, and it were at all your fault,” he said candidly.
“And like a barbarian, you would fling yourself at me and try to claw me to death, I am sure,” Lien said.
Temeraire’s tail faded slowly to the ground, only the very tip still twitching, and he gazed at her nonplussed; that would certainly have been his very reaction. “Well, I am not afraid of you.”
“No,” she said calmly. “Not yet.”
Temeraire stared at her, and she added, “Would your death repay one tenth part of what you have taken from me? Do you think I would count your captain’s blood equal to that of my dear companion, a great and honorable prince, as far above yours as pure jade is to the offal that lies in the streets?”
“Oh!” Temeraire said, with indignation, ruffing up even further. “He was not honorable, at all, or else he would not have tried to have Laurence killed; Laurence is worth a hundred of him or any other prince, and anyway, Laurence is a prince now himself,” he added.
“Such a prince you may keep,” she said, contemptuous. “For my companion, I will have a truer revenge.”
“Well,” Temeraire said, snorting, “if you do not want to fight, and you do not mean to hurt Laurence, I do not know why you have come; and you can go away again now, because I do not trust you in the least,” he finished defiantly.
“I came,” she said, “to be certain that you understood. You are very young and stupid, and you have been badly educated; I would pity you, if I had any pity left.
“You have overthrown the whole of my life, torn me from family and friends and home; you have ruined all my lord’s hopes for China, and I must live knowing that all for which he fought and labored was for naught. His spirit will live unquiet, and his grave go untended.
“No, I will not kill you, or your captain, who binds you to his country.” She shook out her ruff and leaning forward said softly, “I will see you bereft of all that you have, of home and happiness and beautiful things. I will see your nation cast down and your allies drawn away. I will see you as alone and friendless and wretched as am I; and then you may live as long as you like, in some dark and lonely corner of the earth, and I will call myself content.”
Temeraire was wide-eyed and transfixed by the low monotone finality of her words, his own ruff wilting slowly down to lie flat against his neck, and by the time she had finished he was huddled small away from her, clutching Laurence still closer with both his forelegs shielding him like a cage.
She half-unfurled her wings, gathering herself together. “I am leaving now for France, and the service of this barbarian emperor,” she said. “It is certain that the miseries of my exile will be many, but I will bear them better now, having spoken to you. We will not meet again perhaps for a long while; I hope you will remember me, and know what joys you have are numbered.”
She leapt aloft, and with three quick wing-strokes was away and swiftly diminishing.
“For God’s sake,” Laurence said strongly, when they had stood all together utterly silent and dismayed awhile, in her wake, “we are not children, to be frightened witless by threats; and that she meant us all the ill in the world we already knew.”
“Yes, but I did not know quite so well,” Temeraire said, in a small voice, and did not seem inclined to let Laurence move away.
“My dear, pray do not let her distress you,” Laurence said, laying his hand on Temeraire’s soft muzzle. “You would only be giving her what she desires, your unhappiness, and cheap at the cost of a few words. They are hollow: even she, powerful as she is, alone cannot make so great a difference to the war; and Napoleon would exert himself to the fullest towards our destruction regardless of her assistance.”
“But she has already done us a great deal of harm, herself,” Temeraire said unhappily. “Now they will not let us have the eggs that we need so badly, and have done so much for.”
“Laurence,” Granby said abruptly, “by God, these villains have bloody well stolen half-a-million pounds, and like as not used the funds to build themselves those fortifications so they could thumb their noses at the Navy. We cannot let it stand; we must do something. Temeraire could bring half this palace down on their heads with one proper roar—”
“We will not murder and ruin to revenge ourselves, as she does; such a satisfaction we ought and do disdain,” Laurence said. “No,” he continued, raising a hand when Granby would have protested. “Do you go and send the men to their supper, and then to take some rest, as much sleep as they can manage, while the light lasts.
“We leave tonight,” he continued, very cold and calm, “and we take the eggs with us.”
“Sherazde says her egg is being kept inside the harem,” Temeraire said, after some inquiry, “near the baths, where it is warm.”
“Temeraire, they will not give us away?” Laurence asked with anxiety, looking at the Kaziliks.
“I have not told them why I am asking,” Temeraire admitted, with a guilty look. “It does not feel quite proper; but after all,” he added, “we will take good care of the eggs, so they will not mind; and the people have no right to object, since they took the gold. But I cannot ask them very much more, or they will wonder why I want to know.”
“We will have the devil of a time stumbling about looking for them,” Granby said. “I suppose the place must be littered with guards, and if the women see us they will surely send up a howl; this mission will be no joke.”
“I think we must only a few of us go,” Laurence said, low. “I will take a few volunteers—”
“Oh, the devil you will!” Granby exclaimed furiously. “No, this time I damned well put my foot down, Laurence. Send you off to go scrambling about in that warren with no notion where you are going, and nothing more likely than running into a dozen guards round every corner; I should like to see myself do it. I am not going back to England to tell them I sat about twiddling my thumbs whilst you got yourself cut to pieces. Temeraire, you are not to let him go, do you hear me? He is sure to be killed; I give you my word.”
“If the party are sure to be killed, I am not going to let anyone go!” Temeraire said, in high alarm, and sat up sharp, quite prepared to physically hold anyone back who made an attempt to leave.