‘But you are dead.’ Temeraire said, uneasily. He had never seen a ghost, and though he had often thought it would be very interesting to, this was not, at all; it was dreadful, to see Laurence just as in life, to want to reach out and gather him in, and keep him safe, knowing he could not.

But Laurence simply said, ‘Of course I am not dead, my dear; I am here,’ and Temeraire bent down his head, peered very closely and put out his tongue experimentally to sniff at him; and then at last he cautiously, so cautiously, put out his forehand to curl about Laurence and lift him, and oh, he was quite solid. He was there, and he was not dead at all. Temeraire gave a low joyful cry and curled around his captain tightly and said, ‘Oh, Laurence; I shall never let anyone take you from me again.’

PART II

Chapter Seven

‘No; they nearly drowned you, and not even on purpose but only through carelessness. I am not letting them have you back,’ Temeraire said. ‘Besides, I cannot go; I cannot just leave everyone here.’

‘You are more desperately needed with the main force,’ Laurence said, trying to explain, but the obstinate gleam in Temeraire's eye was discouraging. ‘We must speak to the commander.’

‘I am the commander,’ Temeraire said.

Laurence stared up at his earnest expression from within the protective wall of dragon encircling him, and then pulling himself up onto the ridge of Temeraire's forearm looked around the clearing. There was not a senior officer to be seen, anywhere, and none of the dragons – many of them regarding him with equal curiosity – were harnessed. Besides the enormous Regal, lay an old Longwing, with milky orange eyes half-lidded sleepily, and a big Chequered Nettle, a Parnassian, and a scattering of smaller dragons all around.

Beyond them Laurence could see a camp full of dragons: Yellow Reapers by the dozen sleeping nearly in a single heap, and smaller courier beasts and lightweights sprawled upon them. There were a handful of men dealing with the pigs and a few cattle, penned up to one side, but they wore rough clothing, obviously not officers of the Corps. There were some few hundred redcoats mostly grouped by the guns, and some volunteers in private coats, but that was all. ‘The militia,’ Laurence said, slowly.

‘Yes, Lloyd and some of our herdsmen told us where to fetch them,’ Temeraire said. ‘They are very good fellows, once they settled down at least, and began to believe we were not going to eat them. We needed them to fire our guns.’