‘No there is not,’ Iskierka said, ‘at least, they are not getting ready for any fighting; they said it would be another week before there is a battle. But we heard that you had had two battles already, and then your letter came saying that there was going to be some more, so we have come to have a share of the fighting also. And,’ she added, ‘when we have finished and beat Napoleon, I have decided that you may give me an egg.’

‘Oh!’ Temeraire said, swelling with indignation, ‘how very kind! I am to be honoured, I suppose.’

‘Well, I am much richer than you are,’ she said, ‘and also I can breathe fire, so you ought to be.’

‘I would not give you an egg,’ Temeraire said, ‘if you were the very last dragon in the world, but me; I should rather have none at all.’

‘You haven't,’ Iskierka said. ‘No one has gotten an egg by you yet, so you see, I am very generous even to try.’

This was not comfortable news, and Temeraire drew back a little, startled. He had not been very enthusiastic about all the breeding, but one could not help but feel satisfied at being wanted, and think how many eggs there should be. He did not understand why there should be none. It did not sound very well; not that it made him wish any more to give Iskierka one.

She, meanwhile, preened herself smugly, stretching out her coils in a messy way so everyone would notice her more. She had a lot of gaudy stuff attached to her harness: chains that were probably not real gold at all, and which held chips of what were certainly nothing more than coloured glass; and Temeraire could not help but be conscious of Granby's attire, as he spoke with Laurence and Tharkay near the standard in low voices. He wore a very fine green velvet coat, trimmed all over in golden braid, with not one but two swords at his waist, one of them short, but both brilliantly ornamented at the hilt, and housed in fine shining leather sheaths; even if he did not look very happy at present. Laurence was in a shabby coat, which did not suit him at all.

The others were eyeing her with admiration—Arkady and the other ferals too, all of whom had bright stuff hooked haphazardly onto their harness, making them look rather like slovenly pirates, Temeraire thought; and Arkady, Temeraire realized in outrage, Arkady had Demane on his back! Demane who was of his crew, so he said reproachfully to the boy, ‘What are you doing with him?’

‘He does not know what the other soldiers are saying with the flags,’ Demane said, looking up, ‘so I tell him, and then we decide whether to listen. The flags are wrong sometimes,’ he added.