Crucible of Gold

“It is not as though we don’t ourselves, sir,” he said. “If one has a dragon, I mean.”

Laurence looked rather troubled, and later said to Temeraire, “My dear, I hope you do not wish for me to— that is to say, I cannot feel—barring marriage, I should not be prepared to—”

“Pray do not think of it, Laurence,” Temeraire said at once, reassuringly: he understood exactly Laurence’s concerns. “I should never demand that you marry where you do not like, only to be an Emperor; and as for children, I had much rather have a properly trained crew. Anyway,” he added, “perhaps Admiral Roland will have some for you, since Emily must go to Excidium; now that I think of it I cannot feel it quite fair that I must give her up with no return, just when she is all trained up and ready to be a splendid officer.”

Laurence did not seem entirely consoled by their conversation on the subject; and Crickton was allowed to remain with his paramour, for no good reason: Temeraire would have been quite happy to send back the cloth, and fetch Crickton back; and if the steward had objected, he was thoroughly in a mood to defend his rights. But while barring any further such arrangements, Laurence would not reverse this present one, as the cloth had already been cut; so the coats were made.

And then Forthing did not wish to be outdone—although why he should object when the final aim was so little to be desired, Temeraire did not see—and Shipley was very ready to please an officer by setting the sailors to sewing up the scraps into a few additional garments. Forthing had steadily applied himself to learning the language—Temeraire now bitterly regretted offering any tutelage on the subject—and somehow managed to exchange these in the market for a very handsome length of red woolen cloth, which was made up into a cloak for Granby. Forthing even had the temerity to propose that some of the opals from Laurence’s robes should be transferred to make an ornamental border upon it.

“Some display would be most suitable,” Hammond began, and was silenced only by Temeraire’s coldest look and his flat refusal to allow any such mutilation to be considered.

“Have done; you have made enough of a guy of me,” Granby himself said, with impatience. “You are as bad as her,” meaning Iskierka, who was meanwhile prancing about looking unbearably self-satisfied, and making eyes at Maila every minute of the day: Temeraire would have thought not even for gold would Iskierka have handed Granby over to someone else, to marry; and Granby did not even want to marry the Sapa Inca.

“You might at least wait for nicer weather,” Temeraire suggested, as a last resort; but not even Granby agreed on that point.

“Let us get the meeting over with; and I hope to God she thinks better of it,” he said, and two days later at morning their party was assembled in the Cusipata courtyard: the twenty aviators all in their fresh coats of green and their white trousers scrubbed and lemon-bleached and mended; Hammond in his handsome brown coat which did not show the stains of travel, and his sash of ambassadorship; Mrs. Pemberton in her black dress; and Granby undeniably splendid in the red cloak. Temeraire had not even the consolation of seeing Laurence in his finery: the robes remained in their box, and Laurence wore only one of the new coats and patched boots.

“I cannot outshine Granby on such an occasion,” Laurence had said; and Temeraire supposed it were just as well: if Anahuarque were to take it into her head to want Laurence instead, that would have been quite dreadful. Of course, Laurence would have made a splendid Emperor, but Temeraire was not Iskierka, to all but sell Laurence into marriage in such a manner, only to advance his rank.

“And wealth,” Iskierka said, “for Granby will own all of this, you know,” under her breath, indicating with the avaricious sweep of her gaze all the great hall of the Empress. For the occasion the walls had been specially burnished and all the silver polished bright, and great lanterns had been hung even though it was still daylight, only to make the metal and the gemstones shine all the more brightly.

The Inca herself wore a gown of surpassing magnificence, which Temeraire could not deny might even rival Laurence’s robes for elegance and splendor: it was woven of yellow and red and even threads spun out of gold, so that it sparkled in the light, and on this occasion she wore a crown of gold and silver, with the gorgeous plumes clasped within it at the top.

“That was my notion,” Iskierka whispered to Temeraire, who heard her out unwillingly, “they had no crowns here, but I told Maila that the monarchs of Europe all wear them, and he was in perfect agreement with me that it was an excellent design; so he has had one made for the Inca; and Granby shall have one, too, when they are married: and they are going to have thrones, also, only those take longer to be made.”

“They are not married yet; nothing has been settled,” Temeraire said to her, coldly; but it was a poor rejoinder, and she justly ignored it: the Sapa Inca did look at Granby with an acquisitive eye, while her courtiers looked at him sullenly, and Maila simpered at Iskierka and ruffled his feathers up along his shoulders and made a general spectacle of himself.

“I will be sure to tell her, Captain Granby,” Hammond said in a low voice, as they approached, “that you have no interest in governance—that you would not seek to interfere—?”

“Yes,” Granby said wearily, “you may tell her I will be a proper lap-dog, and let her have her own way in everything, and not do anything but sit next to her and nod when she pokes me; and you may as well remind her if I ever do care to do otherwise, I still shan’t be able to, as I don’t know ten words of the language yet and likely won’t put a sentence together for a year to come.”

“Captain Granby begs Your Majesty’s pardon,” Hammond said, “that his lack of skill in the language bars him expressing his gratitude for the honor which you have done him, by this invitation; and wishes me to convey to Your Majesty—”

He went on in this perfectly untruthful vein, with which Anahuarque seemed quite well-satisfied; Temeraire looked away to watch instead the traffic of dragons coming and going among the great stepped terraces and high roofs of the city, laid out before their present vantage point, which if less remarkable was at least less dreadful than the debacle in progress before him; and for interest there were three dragons coming in from the south, two rigged out with elaborate streaming banners of great size.

Then Temeraire sat up sharply: the banners were the tricolor, and the dragon in the center was white: “Laurence!” he said, interrupting Hammond, “Laurence, Lien is coming; and those are Flammes-de-Gloire beside her.”

Chapter 13

IT WAS NOT HIS FAULT, of course, but Temeraire conceded that his announcement had disrupted the ceremony beyond repair: the dragons of the Incan court were all sitting up and watching the oncoming dragons warily, paying Hammond’s attempts to resume his speechmaking no attention, and Maila had reared up on his hind legs and put a foreleg on the Inca’s podium as though he meant to snatch her up and go at once.

Temeraire could see Genevieve go up from the hall where the French were quartered, with Piccolo and Ardenteuse on her heels, to join the approaching party: and then all six dragons circled together overhead and descended one after another into the royal court, Piccolo unsubtly crowding against Kulingile’s shoulder to make room for Lien to come down.

She was looking splendidly, Temeraire could not help but reluctantly acknowledge: besides the immense diamond upon her breast, which caught the light of the lamps, she wore also a sort of gauntlet upon each foreleg—talon-sheaths tipped in rubies, joined by delicate lacy chains of silver to broad cuffs set with diamonds, which were in turn joined to another set of cuffs above her elbow-joint set with sapphires, so that she wore the colors of the tricolor herself. She wore no other harness, and carried but one rider—

The French dragons all bowed their heads low, and the men aboard their backs removed their hats; De Guignes slid from Genevieve’s back and knelt, as Napoleon dismounted from Lien’s back, stepping easily down onto her proffered foreleg, which she then lowered to the ground.

He took De Guignes by the shoulders and raised him up, kissed him on either cheek, and said in French, “Best of emissaries! You must not be offended that I have come myself, any more than are my Marshals when I come to take the field; some battles a man must win himself. This is the Empress?” And when De Guignes confirmed it, Napoleon said, “Then tell her, my friend, that I myself have come! And hazarded my own person, to show her the honor which I and France mean to do her, if she will come and grace our throne.”