‘Second line!’ Temeraire cried, and the Anglewings and Grey Coppers all darted down in a pair of short rows, making another pass through the camp, crosswise to the strike that the heavyweights had made. They were all middle and lightweights, but so especially quick and skilful they were hard to hit even under the best of circumstances, and since the soldiers had all been aiming their guns up at the heavyweights, in wholly the wrong direction, the circumstances were not at all the best; for the French anyway.

But many of the Anglewings were vain of their flying, and instead of going straight through the camp, Velocitas and Palliatia and a few of the others, were stopping abruptly mid-flight, cornering neat as a box and darting back the way they had come a little, then reversing again; or doing complicated interweaving tricks of flying. It was all just showing-away, and Temeraire frowned at it because they were taking a great deal longer than they ought, and would likely get shot. And anyway, it was meant to be the heavyweights' turn to go again.

But he supposed that was selfish, they would have some splendid fighting with the Chevaliers instead; but when he looked, the Chevaliers were not coming towards them, they were too busy trying to defend themselves. The Reapers were darting at them in pairs, one from either flank, and as soon as the Chevalier turned to meet that attack, another pair would go at them from another direction. The Reapers came at them from below, so the men aboard the Chevaliers could not shoot them very easily. ‘Oh,’ Temeraire said, disgruntled; it was being very neatly done, but that was not what he had wanted, at all.

At least the Grey Coppers were behaving in a more practical way. While the Anglewings made their fuss, the lightweights were snatching up anything that came handy, tent-poles or young trees that came away from the ground, and whacking away at the camp with them, knocking down people and tents and spreading the fires even further.

‘There goes a gun,’ Majestatis said laconically, pointing with his long talons: the French had managed to pull one of their cannon around the right way, despite the confusion, and a dozen men aiming pepper guns were standing with it.

‘Come away!’ Temeraire called down hurriedly. ‘Velocitas! Palliatia—Oh, they are not listening!’ and they paid for it: the cannon fired, canister shot; the pepper guns spat, and a general shriek went up from the Anglewings as the balls scattered over them. ‘Quick, Majestatis, we are fastest—’

‘Hey, I ain't going to just sit here,’ Requiescat said, but Temeraire was already diving, roaring.

‘The gun for me,’ Majestatis called as they plummeted, and he managed to bang over the hot cannon as he shot past, his wickedly long claws slashing ruin among the artillerymen.