‘J'y suis!’ Temeraire called out, propelling himself with great backward thrusts away from the camp, and roared again. ‘Ici, me voici!’ The French dragons wheeled in midair and came barrelling straight towards him, teeth bared; he hovered and waited and then dropped himself straight out of the way, his wings folded tight while they shot by, white flashes of rifle-fire sparking along their backs; then behind them, Gentius came soaring gracefully down over the camp on his enormous wings, and spat acid over ten cannon in a row.

Bells of alarum were clanging madly now, torches lit, men rushing out to form into rows as the handful of horses screamed and struggled against their handlers. Temeraire could not help but feel a wild surge of excitement, almost overpowering, as Requiescat, Ballista and Majestatis came thundering down through the camp, their claws and tails dragging through tents and pickets and fires alike, scattering them; and the red banners glowing in the fires that bloomed at once.

He dived down and joined their long straight row, stretching his ruff wide. They tore across the full length of the camp without pause, and then whipped aloft trailing canvas and rope, and anything else they had snagged upon their claws. Once they had gone high enough not to be shot, they pulled it all off and let it drop down upon the camp.

Perscitia had suggested the notion, as they had no bombs, ‘Especially if you can get some tents pulled up, and drop them on the pepper guns,’ she had said, and it answered remarkably well: most of the tents bundled up as they dropped, but one luckily unfurled and floated down in a heap on top of a company of infantry trying to aim the long-barrelled pepper guns, their bayonets poking out of it, making them only worse entangled.

‘Oh!’ Temeraire said exultantly. ‘Oh, it is working! Perscitia, look—’ but she was nowhere near to be seen, and he could not spend time finding her. The Chevaliers had wheeled about, but they were holding off—the sizzling crisp of Gentius's acid was sharp in the air for anyone to smell, and though it was dark, the fires leaping up from the camp glowed brightly enough to make it plain that there were four heavy-weights lined up opposite them. Quickly Temeraire turned and roared out, ‘Chalcedony! Go around and at them!’

‘What?’ Chalcedony called back, circling in mid-air to try and keep his place; he and the other Yellow Reapers and middle-weights waited in a great mass for their turn to have a go at the camp.

‘The Chevaliers! All of you circle about and come at them from behind, make them come towards us,’ Temeraire called back, impatiently.

‘Oh!’ Chalcedony said, and the Reapers jumped at it, streamed out in a flock and whipped around the Chevaliers.