Their coverts were also established on the coast, but on the flanks of the battlefield, to north and south. From their camp Temeraire could see the dotted lines of fishing huts scattered around them, showing a few distant yellow candlegleams. The rocky coastline was a dark mass against the faintly lighter sky, and the steady ongoing roar of the surf was behind them. It was still dark. The voices of the Fleur de Nuits, scouting their positions, echoed overhead. Occasionally a flare was shot off to blind them, or a few dragons chosen by lot went up to chase a few of them away.

Laurence rose a little before dawn, and climbed down from Temeraire's back, to look out towards the battlefield.

‘Is Napoleon there?’ Temeraire asked Laurence, eagerly. ‘Have they come?’

‘Yes,’ Laurence said. ‘They are in pickets. Put your head down and you will see them.’

Temeraire lowered his head and tipped it so he aimed one eye along the ground. Against the deep grey of the lightning sky, he could see the tiny narrow lines of the pickets on top of a hill. The narrow posts were little more than sticks, each leaning a little in one direction or another, and the lumpy dark shapes at their base, the sleeping soldiers kept in their columns. Overhead, the stars were dimming: a thick grey fog was rolling in from the water, as the sky grew paler.

‘It is time,’ Laurence said. Fellowes stirred behind Temeraire's leg, and yawning rose to see to the harness.

Temeraire rumbled softly, deep in his throat, and called, ‘Majestatis, Ballista; it is time to get everyone up.’

‘I still do not like this plan,’ Perscitia said, fretfully, as they all ate the fresh cattle, saved for this morning. ‘I do not see what the use is in fighting so hard to keep them from the centre, and then letting them have it after all; why not give it to them at once? And are you quite sure they are there?’

The question was not as odd as it seemed. The fog had grown so thick they could see nothing from the ground but the trees about the clearing: the presence of their own army had to be taken on faith, much less the enemy's.

‘Yes, I am quite sure,’ Temeraire said. ‘Laurence pointed them out to me, just before morning. We will see them better once we are aloft, I am sure.’

Rain fell in a thin icy drizzle as they went up. They had drawn lots to see who should have which shift, as Admiral Roland had insisted that they should not all fight at once, and Temeraire could see the sense in keeping some back, when the battle might be very long. He was however, very relieved to be leading the first rank, and hoped privately that the fog might last; and that perhaps Laurence would not notice when it was midday and time for their own rest.