But Laurence did not seem pleased by their thanks; he only nodded, and said, ‘Send word also that if you should see or hear of any French movements, you are to light a beacon: smoke, or a bonfire at night, and we will come for it if we see.’

Gong Su had taken the slaughtered cows, enough for all the dragons to have a little fresh roast beef, and then provided a share of soup, made with the bones and a little meat mixed with vegetables and grain, for all the crew and everyone in the village besides. The atmosphere was celebratory, and became more so when the villagers brought out a concealed store of honey wine. Temeraire even enjoyed a cupful, so he might close his jaws on it and keep the crisp fragrant smell on his tongue.

Laurence had not eaten very much, and now came away from the village and the celebration, back to Temeraire's side; but only to get out his maps again and study the roads.

Temeraire drew a deep breath, watching him, and said valiantly, ‘Laurence—Laurence, I have been thinking. Perhaps you might sell my talon-sheaths. I do not mean just now,’ he added, hurriedly, ‘but, when the war is over—’

‘Why?’ Laurence said, a good deal more absently than Temeraire felt such an offer merited. ‘Are you tired of them?’

‘No, of course not; who could become tired of them?’ Temeraire said, and then paused. He was not sure how he might explain without betraying his knowledge of the loss which Laurence had concealed, surely because it wounded him greatly. ‘I only thought,’ he tried, ‘that perhaps you might like to have some more capital, as you have given me so much of it yourself.’

‘I have no need of capital,’ Laurence said, ‘and you had better keep them, against future need. Though I thank you for the offer; it was handsomely made,’ he added, which ought to have been a tremendous relief, but Temeraire found that it only made him more unhappy. He had tried his most desperate notion to no avail. Laurence had not seemed even a little moved by the prospect of having so splendid a treasure for his own; the gratitude had been simply formal.

He rested his head upon his forelegs and watched Laurence work a little longer. Laurence had a lamp, and in the light, he looked a little odd. He was not quite clean-shaven, Temeraire realized, and there was some dried blood upon his jaw, which he had not cleaned off. His hair was tied roughly back, and had grown long. But he did not seem to care for any of it; all his attention was for the map, and the figures he studied.

‘May I not help you, Laurence?’ Temeraire asked at last, rather hopelessly, for lack of any other idea.