Laurence had a sheaf of papers in his hands, packets each sealed and addressed separately. He handed the orders to Sipho to carry around.

‘Damned paperwork, with Bonaparte in our parlour,’ Berkley muttered. ‘Trust the Army for this sort of thing—’

‘You will oblige me greatly, Berkley, by putting those orders somewhere they can come to no harm,’ Laurence said, when Berkley would have crumpled the parchment. ‘I would be happier to know that the chain of command can be made quite clear, to anyone who should inquire, in future.’ All the other captains paused and looked at him, and Temeraire wondered why it should matter; the red wax seals affixed to the parchment were attractive, but they might be easily copied; and Laurence had not kept one himself.

But Laurence did not explain further. Instead he went on, ‘The French are harassing our farmers, and so supplying the wants of their army using raiding bands. Our duty is to stop this predation and, so far as is practicable without undue risk to the dragons, to reduce the forces available to Napoleon.’

There was a pause, and then Granby said, ‘You mean, his irregulars?’

‘I do,’ Laurence said.

‘What does he expect us to do with the prisoners, cart them about with us in the belly-rigging?’ Berkley said.

‘No quarter will be given,’ Laurence said. There was a heavy finality to his tone, which somehow warned off further questions. The captains said nothing. ‘We will begin in Northumberland, tomorrow, and work our way south. We leave at dawn gentlemen; that is all.’

They stood a moment longer looking at their orders and at Laurence, with oddly uncertain expressions, but in the end drifted away back to their tents without quietly. Temeraire himself was at a standstill. He could not understand why Laurence should have taken the command. He was already in command, and it was important, was it not, for a dragon to have the post? Laurence had said as much himself. But Temeraire did not mean to be selfish anymore, not now that he knew he had already been selfish. If Laurence wished to have the command, of course he should have it, and yet, if it mattered for politics sake, for the dragons …

He struggled over it, and ventured at last to ask, timidly, though he added hurriedly, ‘I do not mind at all, for myself, I am very happy that you are restored, and a captain now again. Only, if it is important—’

He was coiled up with the others, but everyone else was asleep and the other men in their tents. Laurence had told Roland, Demane and Sipho to go and sleep in his tent, and had stayed out wrapped in his coat and cloak to look over the maps, which he had laid out on a small camp table. He was marking them with a small wax pencil, here and there, as Temeraire spoke.