It had seemed to Catherine no more than a pervasive cold, but yet only a cold, until the day that Dulcia sneezed herself out of formation, and then could not stop. After several moments of uncertain flying, Catherine had her directed to land; Dulcia huddled on the ground, awkwardly arched over her belly-netting, convulsed with what had become a miserable cough.
"She says she's not in the least hungry," Chenery added that evening as they sat to dinner in the captain's mess-room in the Dover barracks-house. "I persuaded her to take a cow, but she could hardly swallow a mouthful for the coughing."
"Having benefited for so long from Temeraire's strategem with the feeding pens," Little offered dryly, "at least she is as ready as all of ours to withstand some deprivation."
Berkley laughed. "Fat as pigs, the lot of them! Maximus has had these cursed sniffles since October. Cannot be rid of them, and the surgeon's remedies do damn-all. They're but a nuisance and nothing more, however."
Catherine rolled her fork between her fingers, then laid it atop her plate so carefully there was not the slightest chink of steel against china. "I'll speak to Lenton about it in the morning," she said at last. "Meanwhile, Chenery, do you keep Dulcia to the ground; have a surgeon in to look at her again." Chenery gave a nod and even assented to a glass of port afterward, when Catherine proposed it, she welcoming the warmth of the wine and the conviviality of the other captains.
The next day brought news from Sutton that Messoria, whose clearing lay next to Dulcia's, had started on a cough as well. Catherine presented herself at Lenton's office hard upon that information.
He called her in immediately and greeted her affably enough, though with a distracted air: his glance strayed to the pile of opened dispatches stacked on his desk. Determined to brevity, Catherine said, "Sir, I have illnesses to report in my formation; Dulcia is down with a cold slow to mend, and likewise Messoria. They are being seen to by the surgeons, but at present they are not fit for formation flying. Maximus seems to have contracted the illness first, though at present it is confined to a superfluity of phlegm."
Lenton passed a hand over his eyes. "Very well." He shuffled a stack of papers on his desk, taking a pen to scratch a quick note. "Messoria, Dulcia, Maximus, do you say? Yet Immortalis, Nitidus, and Lily are quite well?"
"Yes, sir." Catherine did not wonder at his vexed expression. With Temeraire sent to China, his absence had already necessitated a reconfiguration of the formation, with attendant drills; the illnesses of three additional dragons promised further impairment of the utility of her formation, and must be disagreeable news indeed.
"Keep me informed as to the surgeon's reports, Harcourt. Meanwhile--meanwhile, I shall assign the three of you to independent patrol duty. You have yet been training with Roland and Excidium, correct? That's to be continued and stepped up, according to the allowances of Captain Roland's schedule. You are to go to her immediately and see how further training might be accommodated. Let her know as well that I would appreciate a word with her at her earliest opportunity."
"Yes, sir. Should Maximus participate in the patrol duty as well? He is fully well able to fly, having not yet set to coughing as do the others."
Lenton's brow furrowed a moment; with a sharp shake of his head, he replied, "No; it would be wiser not, I suspect. Indeed, it were much better if none of the three--well, here's to do for the time being: request their captains not to take the dragons to the pens for feeding, but have the cattle brought to their clearings directly."
Catherine restrained a startled exclamation but could not hold back on a question. "Sir, are you--have you some word on the cold, sir?"
Lenton said sharply, "It spreads; only that can be said of it presently. I would rather it not spread further here, Harcourt; so of your goodness, pass my orders--written copies will follow--to your formation captains and send Roland here directly you have spoken with her."
Catherine excused herself and went to Chenery, who barely nodded at her message, so deep in conversation was he with the surgeon; and to Sutton and Warren, who took the news hard.
Only just two weeks had gone by before Maximus developed the cough, and Immortalis after him. "Damned idiot does not want to eat," Warren swore, staring at his own untouched meal.
By this time other dragons at Dover had begun to take sick, and a walk through the covert heard the cooling air as punctuated by the hacking coughs of dragons as by any bird's song, and indeed the former considerably more likely. It was not long before Roland pulled Catherine aside and, with perfunctory apologies, cancelled their training sessions.
"Even with Bonaparte distracted by the on-goings in Russia and Austria, adequately patrolling the coast shall soon become monstrously difficult," Roland said. "Your Lily's not of a mind to breed, is she? Well, no matter," Roland added when Catherine shook her head in reply, "but that it were better to breed them now when we can, for the surgeons hold no hope yet of being able to put a swift end to this plaguey disease."
"My formation: they all have it," Catherine murmured numbly, "although not Lily--not yet."
Lily bent her neck low and nudged Catherine's arm gently. "I shan't get sick like the others, Catherine; you need not worry about me."
Catherine patted her nose. "I shall pray not, dearest," she said, and tried to muster a smile.
Roland's grim expression offered little comfort. "Damned hard having others look to one at such a time? One must soldier through and do one's duty."
"Yes, of course, I--" Catherine shook herself. "What shall we do about the patrols? Does Lenton have a plan?"
Roland said briskly, "I aim to propose that Lenton reassign some additional Longwings to Dover; with Mortiferus and two or three others, plus Excidium and your Lily, we can scrape together formations to put on some defensive against the French for a while to come."
"Won't bringing them together in such a way increase the likelihood that they will contract the illness?" Catherine asked, then sighed and added, "Although it's hard to see what other choices we have."
"Indeed, our options are sadly limited." Roland brushed a hand over her hair, smoothing down some of the flyaway strands that had slipped from her braid. "But needs must, for all we say and do."
Catherine nodded, following Roland out of the clearing toward the barracks-house. "How is Excidium today?"
"Ha! He's as tough as old shoe leather. No sniffle or sneeze from him. My first lieutenant says that he'll outfly any cold that tries to catch him."
That evening, Catherine sat in a chair beside Lily, keeping her company and enjoying her conversation, when Lily made a strange noise, as of a bark caught midway to a sneeze. Acid fizzed momentarily about her spurs. "Oh, Catherine, I am so very sorry," she said, and coughed.