The Lady In Question is watchd, but, not yet Molestd; I have Contrivved, to Whisper in a few ears, that her Husb'd was a Nown Enthusiast and she Married Late in Desp'ration. May she one day Forgive This Slur aganst her, and upon the name of a Hero of His Country! I hope the Danger, of Arrest, is Passd. This is All I can convay Reliably, as she refuses to Receve Me as a Caller, but Gossip says she is Much Grieved and the Child continues Sick.

To-Morrow I am invitd to Dinner with Marshl Davout, but do not Expect Much as he is Close-Mouthd unlike M. Murat.

The letter had no signature. He read the section over twice, and gave it back again. ‘Thank you,’ he said only, and bowing left. He did not trust himself to say anything more.

Temeraire was very pleased to be singled out for a particular assignment, and even more to escape patrolling and ferrying men about, however important it might be. The only difficulty was in deciding who should be chosen to come along. ‘Wellesley wants the best fighters you have, and the most enthusiastic,’ Laurence said, which was fair, anyway, as those had the most right to be doing something more exciting than carrying the infantry. But there were more than ten deserving, and it was really only eight, because of course he would go himself, and so would Iskierka, even though she did not merit the privilege at all.

Temeraire found her showy fire-breathing rather ordinary. Anyone could set things on fire, if only they had a little bit to start with. Temeraire sighed, but she was not of much use here, she had already been let off carrying people, because it was difficult for many soldiers to sit upon her spikes, jetting off steam as they did. So he had to put up with her. Then, Maximus and Lily had to be asked, of course, although to Temeraire's startled dismay, Laurence tried to speak against the choice.

‘But it would be very unhandsome of me not to invite them for some real fighting, when I may,’ Temeraire protested, looking over his shoulder, lest Maximus and Lily should overhear, and be offended. Fortunately, Maximus slept solidly, snoring under a blanket of nine Winchesters and little ferals, and Lily was presently encamped outside the far wall of the citadel just below Captain Harcourt's window, jealously: Catherine was gone inside to see to the baby.

‘Harcourt is not well,’ Laurence said.

‘Yes,’ Temeraire said, ‘Lily thinks so too, but that is as much a reason to ask her as any. She is quite sure Catherine would do better to go south, and have some real fighting, than continue flying back and forth in the wet. She takes cold so easily now, and ought not to be so long aloft.’