Most of the guns had been ruined; those whose housings were not burnt or acid-eaten had been spiked by their crews before being abandoned. One however, had escaped destruction under the protective weight of a smothering tent. It was a little pitted, and its wheels were perhaps a bit singed along the edge, but it was a real great gun, a good twelve-pounder, and they had plenty of balls for it. There was even a store of gunpowder left, as the wagon full of powder had been kept some distance away from the rest of the camp.

‘But how are the men to know what is to be done with it, if they are not already soldiers?’ Temeraire said. He had seen the guns fired many times, aboard ship, but he did not recall perfectly just how it was managed. ‘Perhaps Perscitia can work out—’ he looked, and realized that she was not poking through the camp with the others, but was sitting near the water-hole curled up in a lump.

‘Are you hurt?’ he inquired, having gone over to her.

‘Of course I am not hurt,’ she said, waspishly.

‘Why are you sitting over here then, instead of coming to see; we have found some gold already, and maybe there is more—’

‘Well, it is not as though I will have a share,’ she said. ‘I did not do any fighting.’

‘Everyone had a chance,’ Temeraire said, injured; he did not feel he had been unfair. Naturally the heavyweights ought to go first, if they could do the worst …

Perscitia looked away, and hunched her wings more snugly. ‘You may go away, if all you mean is to sneer and be unpleasant. I am sure it is no business of anyone's if I did not care to fight.’

‘I am not sneering, at all, and you may stop being so quarrelsome!’ Temeraire said. ‘I did not notice that you did not fight.’

She fidgeted a little, and muttered by way of apology, ‘Others did,’ glancing towards the other dragons.

‘But why did you not, if you mind so much now?’ Temeraire asked. ‘You might have, any time you liked.’

‘I did not like to,’ she said, defiantly, ‘So there, and you may call me a coward if you want; I am sure I do not care.’

‘Oh,’ Temeraire said, and sat back on his haunches. He was not quite sure what to say. ‘I am very sorry?’ he offered, uncertainly. He supposed it must be very unpleasant to be a coward. But he had always thought cowards were wretched creatures, who would likely do something unpleasant such as steal your things, even if they knew they could not win fighting for them, and that was not what Perscitia was like, at all. ‘You are never shy of quarrelling with anyone.’