My Lady's Dragon

Chapter 4

She was startled awake some hours later, in the soft light before full dawn, by someone fumbling at the door and then stumbling across the room. "Lil?" she called in alarm.

"Sh'alright. G'back to shleep," mumbled Lil as she fell on her bed.

With the smell of strong spirits wafting through the room, Rose's fears for her sister's health were in one way assuaged. She lay still until loud snores and accompanying coughs came from the bed where her sister lay, fully clothed, though the skirt seemed all akilter and likely dragged through the detritus of the street. Then she rose silently and tended to the dress and duties of a Sunday.

After services at a nearby chapel, she dismissed the serving maid that she'd hired to accompany her, made a spare meal from the covert kitchens, and returned to her room. She found Lil pressing a wet cloth to her face.

"Be with you in a few shakes," mumbled her sister. "We can start back for the covert any time."

Rose picked up her sewing. "No."

Lil peeked under the rag. "Not going back?"

"Not today. It's Sunday." Rose kept her eyes down.

"Yes. So?"

"Like any good Christian, I am not in the habit of Sunday travel. No emergency compels me to start. No doubt you would be happy to rest an additional day." Rose felt her lips tighten in disapproval. Just like Aunt, she thought desperately.

The only sounds came from outside the room as dragons and their captains came and went.

After a few minutes, Lil said, "Stupidest thing I ever heard. But yes—I shall go back to bed."

The day dragged on, the grayest of Sundays, until late afternoon, when a commotion in the courtyard caused Rose to look out the window, where she sat with her stitching.

"Florenzia!" she gasped. She threw down the black former dress and ran outside as her sister heaved a groggy "Huh?" from the bed.

Just landed, Florenzia thrashed about the open area, with the little courier dragons and people giving her wide berth. She flapped one wing furiously while the other dragged the ground. "Lil! Rose! Tell me where they are! What has happened to them? I demand that you produce the children of my captain on the instant!"

"No, Florenzia, no!" Rose ran straight at the enraged dragon, both of them heedless of any danger.

"Rose?" Florenzia zoomed her head down close to Rose's face.

Rose stroked the soft nose. "We are fine, truly we are. Oh, it is my fault! I will never forgive myself if you have injured yourself. I did not want to travel on a Sunday. That is all, I swear. I would not have insisted had I know how worried you would be?"

"Flossie, you idiot." Lil staggered out of their room. "You didn't fly from Dover? I wish you may not have done a permanent injury to yourself. What, I ask you, could have happened to us?"

Florenzia shook her head until her tendrils danced on their own. "Anything! Anything! I couldn't bear to lose you both. The thought drove me wild. I had to come find you."

Rose pressed her cheek again Florenzia's forehead as the dragon ducked even lower to nudge Rose's chest. As Rose stumbled backwards, the dragon clasped her in a light, but possessive grip in one forehand. Rose murmured, "So sorry. So sorry. All my fault."

"Stuff and nonsense!" Lil rubbed her head, still in pain. "If anything had happened-even if we could not be located-can you believe you would not have heard long since?"

Florenzia drew herself up. "I perceive that you have been whoring again, Lil. You know your mother does not like it. It is not, after all, as though you were making eggs, for which there is some excuse."

Lil scowled. "I'd like to know what business you have-or my mother-in prying into my personal life. I should not call a bit of comfort with a fellow officer whoring at all, and considering how little comfort I have or am likely to have, it's beyond enough to have you preaching Methodism at me."

Rose raised her head to shout. "I must have a dragon surgeon on the instant! Fetch one at once," she directed to the crowd, which reluctantly dispersed from the interesting scene. Eyes blazing, Rose twisted to face her sister. "Your conduct has been appalling, to put it no higher. You did not tell me that Florenzia would worry so, the only reason that could have moved me, and since our stay was at least as much to accommodate your wages of sin, you may return to your bed and try to recover."

Lil's eyes popped in disbelief. She shook her head, as though in disbelief, but appeared to regret it when she held her temples and moaned. She recovered enough to sneer, "Yes, your ladyship." Carefully she turned and walked away, as though each step hurt.

"Florenzia, here comes the surgeon. Do come to the pavilion and lie down for him to examine you. We must make sure you have taken no lasting hurt. Surely the dragon owns the pavilion will be willing to help you."

Meek as a chastised terrier, Florenzia obeyed. "There will be no problem. It's everybody's pavilion. Lord Admiral Roland asked the ministers' wives if they would help pay for pavilions, and they first wanted one built in London so that they could see it. So they did, and despite all, it is very handy for the couriers, who have no place to call their home, and those of us who travel to London occasionally. Oh, do give over," she snapped at the surgeon who kept poking her. "I'm not dead yet."

She sighed and closed her eyes as the surgeons climbed over her, gave contradictory directions, and finally settled on a treatment, which seemed to be that she should lie still under an enormous warm cataplasm that took three men to put in place. Rose took the opportunity to return to her room to retrieve the previous day's acquisitions. After a glance around the room, she said to her sister's supposedly sleeping form, "Lil, I am going to spend the night in one of the pavilion bedrooms next to Florenzia. I will take all our purchases and send some men to bring the portraits to her."

With an answering cough, Lil turned toward the wall and pulled the blanket over her head.

Florenzia crouched down, wings folded tightly against her body, a disgruntled expression on her face as she tried to draw her head away from the foul-smelling poultice over her wing joint. But she forgot about her ills when Rose showed her the spoils of shopping. Her uninjured wing flapped out and quivered. She was sure the jet and silver beads would make handsome decorations, and she insisted on putting on the talon sheaths at once, which meant that she couldn't immediately try the new device that Rose had made for her.

"It's a dragon needle," Rose explained. "You put the rope, that is, the thread, through this hole and put the end on a talon. You push the needle through onto your talon on the other hand. At least, that's how I conceived it. I had Mr. Bard make an embroidery frame out of belly rigging. I will draw a design on it when we return and see if we can dye rope and cable in different colors."

"Why, Rose, how very kind!" Florenzia removed a talon sheath from each hand so that she could practice the motion of embroidery. "I am sure that I will enjoy this activity very much. I have not heard it if a dragon has tried embroidery before. And what is this? Yet another present?"

Four men heaved the portrait cabinet in front of her. Rose unfastened the clasps so that Florenzia could open it.

"It's not a present from me. We only caused it to be delivered."

Florenzia paid her no mind at all. She stared at the laughing Countess so long that Rose became uncomfortable. "It was at the jewelers, who decorated the frame. I trust you like the gilt and jewels."

After a moment, Florenzia answered, "Oh. Yes. There are jewels, are there not? Yes, quite nice." She shook herself and winced as the wing pained her. "Now I can look at her forever. My dearest captain, dearest Belle. Oh, Rose, do not leave me tonight. I am so sad that I do not know how to bear it. But I am so happy to have this painting, a last token of her regard, and almost life-size too."

"Of course I will stay with you," said Rose. "There is a bedroom directly across from you."

"There should be a palette on the bed, if you would care to sleep on my foreleg, like my captain used to when we were on the march." Florenzia's eyes pleaded.

Rose hesitated only long enough to say, "I do not care to parade about in my nightclothes, but if you will hold your good wing out to shield me, I will arrange myself and the palette on your leg. I am sure that will be modest enough."

"Certainly," said Florenzia, her eyes traveling back to her captain's face.

When Rose was settled for bed, she lit a candle and set it beside her on the pavilion floor. She fell asleep with Florenzia still regarding the painting but drowsed awake when the candle guttered out. Florenzia sighed deeply as she shut the cabinet and pulled it under her other foreleg. She laid her head on top of that leg and, as far as Rose knew, did not stir the rest of the night.

The next morning, Florenzia nudged Rose awake before first light, so as to be on the road to Dover before full dawn.

"You'll never fly!" exclaimed Rose.

"No." Florenzia sighed. "I shall trudge along the road, and so we must be on the road very early, in hopes of avoiding most of the populace. Is that your riding habit? It is very handsome."

She actually galloped in a long, graceful paces, gathering herself and leaping forward and up. Rose was glad they had skipped breakfast; the sensation in her stomach was something like being in a small boat going over large waves. She tried to ignore the sensation of her new habit against her skin. She was pleased with its appearance, but she didn't think she could ever bear to wear it again.

"Flossie, you've got your wing out," accused Lil. "No flying, not for me, and especially not for you, after your antics yesterday."

"I can't fly with one wing, but if it should happen to catch the wind, I'm sure one could not call it flying," said Florenzia with some dignity. "I do not think that gliding is likely to hurt ."

But it wasn't long before she folded the wing and kept closer to the ground. Rose wondered if she should suggest stopping for a rest, but it appeared that Florenzia was merely thinking and not paying attention to her pace.

"You will find that I have not been idle," she said. "It is all arranged: The dreadful Martin is to go to Actinius, and Lavinia Dane is be my second lieutenant. She did very well on her first mission, very well. You will be pleased, Rose, to have your harp and all your other things from Wexley."

"You never flew to Wexley!" scolded Lil.

"No, Lavinia did, on Requiescat. With four men from the crew, to carry. I told Requiescat that he could eat as many deer as he wanted. And the oldest swan," added Florenzia darkly, hinting at old grievances.

"That swan has attacked every child at Wexley!" Rose said.

"I am told that the children cheered as Requiescat swallowed it," said Florenzia with satisfaction.

"But, Florenzia," worried Rose. "The deer and swan belong to the king."

"And Requiescat is the king's dragon," Florenzia pointed out. "There has been no theft. All the king's property is in the king's other property, or rather, servant. Dragons are not property at all. In fact, as Requeiscat surely visited the compost midden before he departed, all the king's property remains in place, just transformed in its nature."

Rose felt this line of reasoning was wrong, but she couldn't untangle it at the pace they were rocking along. "And my aunt allowed all this?"

"Not being used to heavy weight Regal Coppers, only my petite little Xenica self, half the household fell into hysterics, and the other half fainted. I am not sure which group your aunt joined, but no one offered any resistance or comment at all. Lavinia borrowed a dress from Sally and pretended to be your maid, and the men loaded your trunks and harp. They would have gotten clean away but for your little brother, who declared that he was the son of a captain, and he would ride this dragon. So Lavinia took him up for a turn around the park on Requiescat's back and then spent the afternoon at her parents' house. She also brought back a maid for you both, a likely young girl from Wexley who has been in the Corps for several years. My captain intended to promote Parker to ensign—he would have been promoted long ago, but he kept getting into trouble. So we shall promote him and engage Cadet Molly Meadows as our runner and your maid. She was visiting Wexley for her brother's wedding, which is how Lavinia came to meet her. They all returned to the covert by supper. All very neat. I am very pleased with Lt. Dane. Also, I have had the pianoforte moved to my pavilion so that you may practice whenever you like, Rose. I shall quite like to hear you. I am very fond of music."

"Oh! Should you have done so? The piano was for all the covert," asked Rose in fresh anxiety.

"No one had any objection, when I assured them that I should be happy for anyone who wished to play or sing should do so whenever they liked."

"Probably glad to have more room for the billiards table," said Lil.

"I believe that advantage was mentioned," agreed the dragon. "I also would like you both to live at my pavilion, and your surgeon says you may, Lil, if you are careful not to overexert yourself. Someone can carry you to meals or bring them to you."

"Like my wishes mattered," muttered Lil. Louder, she said, "Just don't put me in Ma's room."

"If you should not mind," said Rose, "I should like very much to be in Mother's room, though I quite understand if you wish to keep it as she left it."

Florenzia made a sound like purring. "Not at all. How untidy that would be. I should like for you to stay there, Rose. Now, Lil. Would there be any chance that you might have a child after your night's raking? I have been considering my situation, and I believe that it will work well if you should have a child to be my captain."

"I doubt, hope, and pray not," snapped Lil.

"Well, you can try again. For a father, there shall be no problem. Temeraire and Isquierka are most anxious that their captains begin breeding. After all, they have done their duty by producing an egg; Granby and Laurence should do likewise.

Rose covered her face with one hand to hide her flaming cheeks, but Lil replied as casually as she had to the discussion of the opera. "Love to, old thing, but the medicos tell me I'm not to do anything of the kind—I've pretty much wrecked my health, and there's no certainty that the child or I would survive."

"Oh! I would not for the world put you in danger. It must be very different for humans. It matters not- Rose can produce the eggs."

"Oh, no! I could not! Please—do not!" Rose spluttered. "I'm sure I should die of shame."

"Nothing could be easier," the dragon assured her. "I have only to mention it to Isquierka, and the thing is done."

"This," agreed Lil," is really true."

"You cannot—I cannot—" Rose floundered. "Lil, you must explain."

Lil shrugged and grinned. "I'll try. Bit difficult that: As Flossie points out, the dragons are commanded to mate for the Corps' convenience. It seems fair to them to ask the same of their captains."

"My captain was always very delicate about it. She said it should be my choice, that I should not be obliged to mate with any dragon I disliked." Florenzia sighed. "And she of course did her very best to arrange a future captain for me. It is not her fault at all that we are come to this pass."

She seemed likely to fall into grief again, but Lil patted her neck and distracted her. "Now, I shouldn't wonder if Laurence would be a better choice for Rose. He has been raised very traditionally also, being the son of a lord. And, Flossie, you must know that traditional British surround their mating with ritual."

Florenzia nodded. "That is very good, then. Isquierka is excellent at devising rituals. She created one to betroth Granby the Sapa Inca, which was very handsome, from what she tells me, and no doubt Granby would have married the Sapa Inca, had Bonaparte not interrupted the ceremony."

"Isquierka's skills won't be necessary," said Lil. "This is how it goes: First, whatever the reality, the proposal must seem to be Laurence's idea. He applies to our parents—well, we can skip that part, and he can apply to Rose herself. She must give the appearance of never having thought of him or any other man, but upon hearing his words, she realizes all the advantages of the match and instantly falls in love with him."

Florenzia snorted. "Are all human rituals this dishonest? I cannot think it good for their society."

Lil continued without answering her. "But before they commence making eggs, they apply for the blessing of the Church and the government and promise to make eggs with no one else. The government also makes rules about the sharing and division of their property."

Florenzia turned her head to look earnestly at Rose. "I advise you to enter no such agreement with the Church and government. Your eggs—and your property—are none of their business. Imagine mating with only one person in your whole life!"

Rose opened her mouth to explain, but shut it when she could not think where to begin.

In a severe tone, Florenzia declared, "It seems to me that when we have reformed human society for dragons, we must also reform human society for humans, as they appear to do such a poor job for themselves. But that is for the future. For now we must settle our own affairs. The more I think about it, the more I think that you should take both Granby and Laurence, Rose. Surely at least one girl must be born out of all those eggs."

Rose felt faint and swayed in her seat, though she clutched her carabiner straps tight.

Lil had mercy at last and stopped laughing and coughing long enough to tell the dragon, "Rose ain't in the Corps, or I'd say that's a fine idea. As it is, because she's not in the Corps, Rose would be cast out of her society for bearing children with two men and no marriage. I agree with you about marriage, but for a woman not in the Corps, it's about the only way to secure her future and keep her and her children from want. For Rose to fly in the face of all convention would bring her the gravest censure and an uncertain future—or rather, one certain of want and loneliness."

"This is true," whispered Rose.

Florenzia shook her head until her tendrils danced like snakes. "You must be funning—how could society be so unfair?"

"It mostly is," said Lil.

"I have no notion why we spend so much effort to preserve it then," said Florenzia, returning to gloom.

Conversation was desultory the rest of the trip. Rose felt despondent that it seemed she could not oblige Florenzia in the slightest matter—not that becoming her captain or having children for her were small matters.

Arriving at the covert with no damage to livestock or property on the way, Rose did her best to admire the harp and pianoforte, with the trunk of her music sitting between them, as much as Florenzia might like. She was offering advice on the best place to hang the portraits when Emily scrambled up.

"Hah! Both of you! Exactly what I want. Lil, I need the skirt. Good heavens, did you get dragged backwards through a bush?" She caught the skirt when Lil threw it and tried to shake it out. "There's no help for it. I have to have a skirt to go to Dover. Rose, will you come with me? I'm off duty this afternoon, and I thought to go buy a dress for the opera. I want to practice wearing it enough so that I can spend the evening listening to music rather than worrying about skirts."

Rose agreed, pleased at a shopping trip and at Emily's confidence in her taste. Eying the wreck of a skirt that Emily yanked over her trousers, she offered one of her own dresses, but Emily declined, saying that she'd prefer not to borrow something that she might ruin. Rose brushed the abused clothing as best she could, and changed from her own bifurcated skirt into a dress.

Emily exclaimed that she couldn't tell that it wasn't a skirt. "Do you like it, then? It works well for riding a dragon?"

Embarrassed, Rose answered, "Tolerably well, as far as modesty goes, though I find it a bit uncomfortable when riding."

"Ha! You need drawers."

"Indeed, I do not think that pantalettes..."

"No, drawers like men wear, to protect your tender parts."

"I can't purchase men's underthings!" Rose was aghast.

"Can't you? I'll do it for you then."

Still appalled, Rose accepted the offer meekly. In short order, she and Emily were bowling down the lanes toward Dover in the covert's carriage, drawn by the decrepit horse she had seen on her first day at the covert and another just as ancient. As they had no paces to speak of, their chief virtue must have been their lost sense of smell that let them tolerate the dragons.

Thinking to purchase a dress to match her jewelry, Emily brought with her two necklaces, one of pearls and the other of garnets. Rose agreed that pearls were always appropriate and looked well with most clothing. The garnets would be more difficult to match but would be more unusual.

Emily giggled. "I'd like to wear the garnets, especially if Lady Allendale, the captain's mother, makes one of our opera party. She gave them to me, and I was mystified why she should do any such thing, but Mother told me that Lord Allendale, having met me at our first subscription party and hearing that I had lessons every day with his son, decided that I must be the captain's by-blow—it was the drollest thing. You could imagine how mortified he was, but it was better than exposing me as an aviator. So Lady Allendale started dutifully taking an interest in me as a granddaughter. Later she met me and Mother when we were in uniform, on the march to Scotland. I think she was disappointed to learn the truth."

Rose could vividly imagine Captain Laurence's pain but she smiled a bit to placate her friend. She wondered if she'd ever get used to the casual and frank discussions of the aviators.

She found a modiste by dint of asking a servant in the smart shop where they took tea. Madame Cerise was a French emigree, and she had many suggestions for the garnets, mostly in French, accompanied by much hand waving. Rose approved of her taste, also in French, and Emily nodded in fascinated ignorance, both of the language and of fashion.

"I've traveled around the world, and I can translate for you on every continent—but not in French," she whispered. "I am feeling very stupid."

But when Rose forced the discussion to English, Emily professed herself also bewildered by the choices put before her. Finally the colors (fawn and pink) and fabrics (silk trimmed in lace) and styles had been determined, and Madame named a date for completion some weeks in the future.

Emily's face fell. "But I had hoped to take it with me, to practice wearing at dinner."

Madame had the very thing, a dress that had been made but not taken, only waiting for the discerning customer. Rose immediately spotted the problem, a fault in the dye. Bright beyond jonquil, but lacking the dark cast of evening primrose, the vivid yellow was far more than most milky debutantes could handle. But for Lt. Roland, with toasty brown skin from the wind and sun, sandy hair streaked even lighter, and above all her glowing, confident personality-"Emily, you must have this dress. It could have been made for you," Rose said earnestly.

"I allow as I like it well. Such a nice length," said Emily, examining the flounced hem.

"Ca c'est drole! Mademoiselle makes the funny! To wear a three-quarter dress without a petticoat!" chuckled Madame.

Emily's face fell as the minions produced a plain ivory petticoat for her to try under the dress.

"It is true that Miss Roland must have her hems as high as may be without immodesty," said Rose as she perused Madame's swatches. "She must walk across a dusty courtyard to dinner."

Emily beamed and squeezed Rose's hand before being whisked away to be trussed up in dress and petticoat.

"The very thing!" pronounced Madame. "We shall gather the hem like so, You perceive that it is shorter, but fools the eye to be longer."

"The very thing!" agreed Rose. "Oh, Emily! It is truly beautiful!" She held up two fabric swatches. "What color would you like for an underdress? This Pomona green is very nice, and this interesting peach color would complement your garnets."

Emily showed her leadership skills with an instant decision. "I shall have one of each, one as plain as possible—the green, I think—and the peach as decorated as possible. Delivered as quickly as you may."

While her assistants pinned the hem, a hit-or-miss proposition while Emily twisted and turned to see herself better in the mirror, Madame tapped one of the swatches that Rose had been examining. "This violet would be assez-charmante for you in half-mourning. Perhaps you would wish me to make it? The cost, a matter most amicable. "

It was a handsome fabric. Rose pulled a swatch of her own from her reticule, a frosty lilac nubby silk, whose yardage was still packed in her trunk. She was glad that she hadn't cut it yet; Madame's sample dresses had given her new ideas. She hated to pass up the discount that Madame was obviously offering, but she didn't need a second evening gown for half-mourning. "Perhaps an opera cloak, to go with my dress."

It was her turn to stand up for measurements, while Madame chattered about the most delicate tucks that would set this cloak beyond the ordinary.

Emily thought she should need an opera cloak also. "Just like yours, Rose, only, only..."

"Fawn," said Rose. "No tucks. One ruffle at the bottom."

"Yes," agreed Emily in complete incomprehension.

After such effort, they needed more refreshment. Emily led them to a shop where they nibbled on ices and planned a campaign against the rest of Dover's merchants. They then assaulted the shops for slippers, fans, gloves, reticules, and other feminine inessentials, including the promised drawers that Emily acquired, as promised, while Rose waited outside, cheeks aflame, and Emily informed the shopkeeper that the purchase was for her poor, sick brother.

Dusk was setting in as they climbed back in the carriage. In the fading light, Rose showed Emily how to carry and handle the fan, and the miles flew quickly by as they laughed at each other's imitations of Society ladies. Emily groaned at the idea of a "language of fans," but, having studied signaling since she was seven, she quickly picked up the new language. "Only I can't ever imagine wanting to say such things with a fan," she added. "If I liked someone—or didn't!-I could find a much more direct way to let him know."

"But at least you can avoid saying things when you don't mean them," Rose said. "That's very important too."

Emily chuckled. "Yes! Why, once in Australia I practically promised to marry someone, all unbeknownst to myself. If I can find some way to hold the fan so as not to say anything at all, that would be perfect." She set it aside and drew out a rather flat box from the array of packages. She sounded almost shy. "I do appreciate your help today, Rose. I hope it's not improper to offer this gift to you."

Rose exclaimed before she opened it. "Oh, Emily, how could kindness be improper?"

"Half a dozen ways at least, I expect," Emily said. "Society has rules about everything, and I know none of them. But open it, do. I thought you quite liked them in the shop."

Rose's hands trembled slightly as she pulled the ribbons loose. She gasped when the lid came off, revealing the pair of delicate lavender gloves that she had coveted while Emily bought pink kid gloves for her own dress. "Exactly what I wanted!" She fumbled in her reticule for the frosted lilac swatch. "Look how well they match my dress fabric! I fully intended to go back for them after next quarter's allowance is paid. How very, very kind of you! We shall be quite a fashionable pair at the opera."

Emily looked relieved and pleased. "I am so glad you like them. I-"

At this point the carriage lurched forward, throwing them both to the floor. Rose snapped the glove box shut. She threw it on the seat as she reached in the door pocket for something, anything, to use to defend herself. Her hand closed on a pistol, with powder and ball blessedly near.

"Stand and deliver!" shouted a rough voice over horses neighing and hooves pounding. A hand holding a pistol stuck through the window. Rose answered by firing her own upwards. The man screamed and then grunted as she shoved the door open with all her weight behind it while she grabbed the staff from under the seat. The highwayman was a mess, blood streaming through the hand he held to his head. As he reached for the pistol he'd dropped, she brought the staff down on the back of his hand hard. She jumped to the ground and kicked the pistol out of his reach. It went off harmlessly.

An answering shot from the other side of coach told her that Emily had found a pistol in the other pocket. A neigh stopped suddenly, followed by heavy thumps on the road. "Drat," she said. "I got the horse. Stupid pistol throws left."

Her voice was covered by the boom of a flintlock from the coachman's seat. "Well done, Jack," Emily shouted. "He's down. But Lady Rose—Rose, are you well? Has he hurt you?" She barreled through the coach and out the other side where Rose held the other highwayman's pistol pointed at his bleeding head. He had not dared rise, but remained huddled on the ground, clutching his right hand next to his chest.

"You've blown my brains out," he moaned. And broke me hand."

"I do beg your pardon," snapped Rose. "I was aiming at your hat. I grazed your scalp, that's all. You should be ashamed of yourself, attacking defenseless women on the road."

"I was going to ask if you needed help," said Emily over his mutterings that defenseless women weren't what they used to be.

"Yes, I do. I wish you would reload the pistols. I cannot do it with one hand and keep this fellow covered."

Jack the coachman clambered down and aimed his rifle at Rose's captive. "There's rope in the carriage."

Emily retorted, "There's everything in the carriage, including a flare. You set it off, Jack, and I'll go see if the other's dead—and take the rope.

Rose jumped when the flare went off, brightening the twilight sky, but she kept her pistol trained on her captive.

The other man hadn't run far. Emily marched him back, bound and staggering, a few minutes later, and shoved him down close to his partner.

"We need a magistrate," said Rose. "And bandages. This one's bleeding worse."

"No bandages in the carriage," said Jack.

"However did you overlook that?" asked Emily. "This carriage has enough for a siege."

Rose looked down at her dress. "I am not sacrificing my clothing for these cowards. Emily, do you take the scissors from my reticule and cut some strips off that horrible skirt you are wearing."

Emily went for the scissors, but remarked. "All the women in the covert share this skirt."

"It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen. I will gladly replace it from my own wardrobe. There's a bronze green skirt that my aunt gave to me out of her closet; I never liked it above half."

After Emily pulled the last bandage tight, she took the rope and hobbled the highwaymen's remaining horse. Rose raised her eyebrows, but all was explained when tiny courier-sized dragon (still taller than the horses) fluttered down beside the carriage.

"Hallo, 'allo. What have we here?" she asked, cocking her head to one side as though to view the scene from another angle.

"Hello, Minnow," shouted Emily over the screaming men and panicking horse. "These scrubs tried to help themselves to our purses, and we must get them to a magistrate, Rose says. Myself, I'd rather blow their heads off, but someone might object." She stepped close to say in a low tone to the dragon. "And I'll give you half this dead horse to eat if you'll not mention this event to Temeraire and Florenzia."

Minnow considered the horse. "Fresh killed, is it? I suppose the cooks will be wanting to mess it up in a stew. Well, Devastatio will be along soon, and his captain can deal with these human laws and customs. The harnessing takes a bit of time, you know. So I came ahead to rescue you," she said with virtuous pride.

Emily snorted. "You mean to nose out what you could, you gossipy beast. And now that I think of it, you may have the whole horse if you won't tell Excidium either."

Minnow shook her head. "Ah, me pippin, that I can't do. For Temeraire gives me a sheep and Florenzia a goat to keep me eye on their crews. And Excidium gives me a piglet to watch out for you."

"I call that a fine thing, when dragons spy on you at every turn," protested Emily, indignant. "We might as well be at a Bath seminary."

Consoling, Minnow said, "Now, there, a piglet ain't much. I only keep one eye on you for Excidium's sake."

"But surely a horse is more than a sheep and a goat," Rose argued, fascinated at this exchange, but keeping an eye on her prisoner, now curled up even tighter, gibbering prayers and pleas to his mother.

"But you got only one horse, and your dragons have many sheep and goats," explained Minnow as though she were reasoning with a toddler.

"At least minimize the danger and assure them that we've taken no hurt," begged Emily.

It was Minnow's turn to snort. "Where's the story in that?" Ah, here's Devastatio. I shall leave the human dealings to them while I take this horse back to the cooks to make something tasty." She grabbed it with her forelegs and was gone before Devastatio had properly landed.

Leaving their captives with Devastatio and his captain, they resumed their plodding journey back to the covert. Minnow had been as good as her word: Florenzia was kneading the floor in anxiety by the time Rose arrived with Emily, who hoped her captain would calm Temeraire before she presented herself.

"Please do not fuss. I should dislike it very much," begged Rose as she offered Emily a seat on the sofa.

Lil paced at the pavilion's edge. "Fuss? When you have been held up?"

"Yes, but we are unhurt, which is more than can be said for the criminals, and the law has them in hand. Only bring some tea, and I shall be perfectly recovered."

Florenzia lashed her tail, knocking over the writing desk. "What can a magistrate do? They shall answer to me! The very idea, attacking my captain's daughter! It is not to be borne."

"The magistrate shall punish them as the law allows." To Florenzia's growl, seeming to indicate a poor opinion of the law, Rose said, "Civilized beings do respect the law and its machinations."

Florenzia lashed her tail again, sending a chair into the deep water bowl.

"Besides, she shot one of them in the head and broke his hand with a staff," said Emily. "Damn pistols are worthless. I shot one of their horses by accident, and Rose was trying for his hat. Just nicked his scalp, though."

As Florenzia swung her head around in astonishment, Lil popped her eyes open wide. "Shot one in the head..."

"Come now, you act as though such a thing had never happened before," said Rose. "Is anyone going to prepare tea?"

"Has it not?" demanded Florenzia, her tone disapproving. "My captain and I thought you safe at Wexley. Perhaps we should have kept you with us."

Rose winced a short smile. "It is more dangerous than you'd think to ride about the roads with only your nurse for company, and after the first time, when I huddled in the corner of the carriage and cried like a little girl-which I was—Meggy, my nurse, said I should learn to defend myself. She knew a great many ways to do that, and Papa taught me to shoot, of course. After awhile, word got around, and people weren't attacked near Wexley any more. This is my fifth, no, sixth time to be held up on the road."

"Not quite the work I thought you were bred for," said Lil.

"Defending myself and those under my protection?" Rose retorted. "I should think I am. In medieval times, I would have run the estate and led the army while my husband was away, and husbands were always away." Abandoning hope of being served, Rose went to the tea urn.

Florenzia called over the compound. "Isquierka, give us a bit of flame, do, to heat the water for tea."

Emily smiled. "When we were on the march, covered in mud, blood, or both, Lil would say, 'My sister is serving crumpets and tea in a silken dress with ribbons in her hair. Now she is mincing along a bridle path, riding her little pony side saddle. Today she has her music lesson and tomorrow her dancing lesson.' We thought you grew up setting stitches in a parlor."

"Yes. I did," Rose said.

Lil shook her head. "Must be more dangerous than I thought."