“Well, Mr. Hollin, what’s all this?” Laurence said, irritation making his tone sharp; then he came around and saw the great expanse of bandages that covered Levitas’s flank and belly, hidden from the other side, and already soaked through with the near-black blood. “My God,” he said involuntarily.

Levitas’s eyes opened a little at the sound and turned up to look at him hopefully; they were glazed and bright with pain, but after a moment recognition came into them, and the little dragon sighed and closed them again, without a word.

“Sir,” Hollin said, “I’m sorry, I know I’ve my duty, but I couldn’t leave him. The surgeon’s gone; says there’s nothing more to be done for him, and it won’t be long. There is no one here at all, not even to send for some water.” He stopped, and said again, “I couldn’t leave him.”

Laurence knelt beside him and put his hand on Levitas’s head, very lightly for fear of causing him more pain. “No,” he said. “Of course not.”

He was glad now to find himself so close to the headquarters. There were some crewmen idling by the door talking of the news, so he could send them to Hollin’s assistance, and Rankin was in the officers’ club, easily found. He was drinking wine, his color already greatly improved and having shifted his bloodstained clothing for fresh; Lenton and a couple of the scout captains were sitting with him and discussing positions to hold along the coastline.

Coming up to him, Laurence told him very quietly, “If you can walk, get on your feet; otherwise I will carry you.”

Rankin put down his glass and stared at him coldly. “I beg your pardon?” he said. “I gather this is some more of your officious—”

Laurence paid no attention, but seized the back of his chair and heaved. Rankin fell forward, scrabbling to catch himself on the floor; Laurence took him by the scruff of his coat and dragged him up to his feet, ignoring his gasp of pain.

“Laurence, what in God’s name—” Lenton said in astonishment, rising to his feet.

“Levitas is dying; Captain Rankin wishes to make his farewells,” Laurence said, looking Lenton squarely in the eye and holding Rankin up by the collar and the arm. “He begs to be excused.”

The other captains stared, half out of their chairs. Lenton looked at Rankin, then very deliberately sat back down again. “Very good,” he said, and reached for the bottle; the other captains slowly sank back down as well.

Rankin stumbled along in his grip, not even trying to free himself, shrinking a little from Laurence as they went; outside the clearing, Laurence stopped and faced him. “You will be generous to him, do you understand me?” he said. “You will give him every word of praise he has earned from you and never received; you will tell him he has been brave, and loyal, and a better partner than you have deserved.”

Rankin said nothing, only stared as if Laurence were a dangerous lunatic; Laurence shook him again. “By God, you will do all this and more, and hope that it is enough to satisfy me,” he said savagely, and dragged him on.

Hollin was still sitting with Levitas’s head in his lap, a bucket now beside him; he was squeezing water from a clean cloth into the dragon’s open mouth. He looked at Rankin without bothering to hide his contempt, but then he bent over and said, “Levitas, come along now; look who’s come.”

Levitas’s eyes opened, but they were milky and blind. “My captain?” he said uncertainly.

Laurence thrust Rankin forward and down onto his knees, none too gently; Rankin gasped and clutched at his thigh, but he said, “Yes, I am here.” He looked up at Laurence and swallowed, then added awkwardly, “You have been very brave.”

There was nothing natural or sincere in the tone; it was as ungraceful as could be imagined. But Levitas only said, very softly, “You came.” He licked at a few drops of water at the corner of his mouth. The blood was still welling sluggishly from beneath the dressing, thick enough to slightly part the bandages one from the other, glistening and black. Rankin shifted uneasily; his breeches and stockings were being soaked through, but he looked up at Laurence and did not try to move away.

Levitas gave a low sigh, and then the shallow movement of his sides ceased. Hollin closed his eyes with one rough hand.

Laurence’s hand was still heavy on the back of Rankin’s neck; now he lifted it away, rage gone, and only tight-lipped disgust left. “Go,” he said. “We who valued him will make the arrangements, not you.” He did not even look at the man as Rankin left the clearing. “I cannot stay,” he said quietly to Hollin. “Can you manage?”

“Yes,” Hollin said, stroking the little head. “There can’t be anything, with the battle coming and all, but I’ll see he’s taken and buried proper. Thank you, sir; it meant a great deal to him.”

“More than it ought,” Laurence said. He stood looking down at Levitas a short while longer; then he went back to the headquarters and found Admiral Lenton.

“Well?” Lenton asked, scowling, as Laurence was shown into his office.

“Sir, I apologize for my behavior,” Laurence said. “I am happy to bear any consequences you should think appropriate.”

“No, no, what are you talking about? I mean Levitas,” Lenton said impatiently.

Laurence paused, then said, “Dead, with a great deal of pain, but he went easily at the end.”

Lenton shook his head. “Damned pity,” he said, pouring a glass of brandy for Laurence and himself. He finished his own glass in two great swallows and sighed heavily. “And a wretched time for Rankin to become unharnessed,” he said. “We have a Winchester hatching unexpectedly at Chatham: any day now, by the hardening of the shell. I have been scrambling to find a fellow in range worthy of the position and willing to be put to a Winchester; now here he is on the loose and having made himself a hero bringing us this news. If I don’t send him and the beast ends up unharnessed, we will have a yowl from his entire damned family, and a question taken up in Parliament, like as not.”

“I would rather see a dragon dead than in his hands,” Laurence said, setting down his glass hard. “Sir, if you want a man who will be a credit to the service, send Mr. Hollin; I would vouch with my life for him.”

“What, your ground-crew master?” Lenton frowned at him, but thoughtfully. “That is a thought, if you think him suited for the task; he could not feel he was hurting his career by such a step. Not a gentleman, I suppose.”

“No, sir, unless by gentleman you mean a man of honor rather than breeding,” Laurence said.

Lenton snorted at this. “Well, we are not so stiff-necked a lot we must pay that a great deal of mind,” he said. “I dare say it will answer nicely; if we are not all dead or captured by the time the egg cracks, at any rate.”

Hollin stared when Laurence relieved him of his duties, and said a little helplessly, “My own dragon?” He had to turn away and hide his face; Laurence pretended not to see. “Sir, I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, whispering to keep his voice from breaking.

“I have promised you will be a credit to the service; see to it you do not make me a liar, and I will be content,” Laurence said, and shook his hand. “You must go at once; the hatching is expected at almost any day, and there is a carriage waiting to take you to Chatham.”

Looking dazed, Hollin accepted Laurence’s hand, and the bag with his few possessions which his fellows on the ground crew had hastily packed for him, then allowed himself to be led off towards the waiting carriage by young Dyer. The crew were beaming upon him as they went; he was obliged to shake a great many hands, until Laurence, fearing he would never get under way, said, “Gentlemen, the wind is still in the north; let us get some of this armor off Temeraire for the night,” and put them to work.

Temeraire watched him go a little sadly. “I am very glad that the new dragon will have him instead of Rankin, but I wish they had given him to Levitas sooner, and perhaps Hollin would have kept him from dying,” he said to Laurence, as the crew worked on him.