Disclaimer: Temeraire and all characters were Created by Naomi Novik. I'm just a fan, imitating.

This story is set in the beginning of Victory of Eagles; SPOILERS

Chapter 3

In which Mr. Roland attempts to coerce Mr. Tharkay into service for the Crown.

Granby was still apologizing generously as Tharkay helped him along the frozen ground. He leaned heavily on Tharkay and the going was difficult as Granby was considerably taller and heavier than him. Tharkay did not say a word as they went and only stopped when Iskierka hailed them.

"What have you done with Granby!" She said and immediately scooped Granby into her protective claws. She glared at Tharkay maliciously for a moment before smashing his tent with her tail. Tharkay watched impassively.

"That was unnecessary," he said and turned to stalk back into the darkness.

"Why'd you do that?" Granby scolded as he peered between the fingers enclosing him.

"That man hurt you," she said.

"No, I fell," Granby said, "Tharkay was only helping me back here."

"Oh," Iskierka said, "Well I hope he isn't angry, and if he is—well, I'm bigger."

She tucked Granby between her forelegs against the warmth of her chest and he fell asleep immediately.

Jane left the Officer's Club after most of the others, including Admiral Sanderson, had cleared out. Outside it was cold and threatened snow. She gazed out toward the covert longingly but the chill and the late hour warned her from heading out there. She had no cheer to bring and decided not to go there with ill tidings until necessary.

"Admiral Roland," a man greeted as he passed her to enter the officer's club. Jane was startled but then turned to follow him in.

"Mr. Tharkay," she said when she saw who it was, "Civilians cannot patron this Club."

He was still standing halfway between the door and the table where they had sat their uncomfortable dinner. Jane closed the door to shut out the cold and turned to look at him directly. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold and Jane thought it an odd accent to his exotic face. He looked down at his boots and shook his head.

"Unless you are in the escort of an officer," she added, "Do you want a drink?"

Tharkay nodded and followed her to the empty bar. The Club was mostly deserted, but a few customers held out in private corners and tucked away tables. The bar though seemed safe and neutral.

"Granby is back with his dragon," he said.

"Good of you to look after him."

"She smashed my tent in gratitude," he said.

Jane's eyes widened, "I'm sorry. Have you anywhere to stay?"

Tharkay shrugged and threw back his drink. He stood to leave, "I suppose I should figure something out."

Jane motioned for refills for both of them, "I'm not quite ready to leave yet," she said and glanced sideways at him, "It wouldn't be right for you to leave me alone—"

"Why not," Tharkay said giving her a dark look, "I should think you'd be more at home here than I."

"Perhaps," Jane said, "but I was enjoying the company."

Tharkay eyed her suspiciously for a moment before sitting back down and lifting his glass, "Is Laurence really in prison for treason?" He said without looking at her.

"You're worried—," Jane paused and smiled at him, "I didn't think you cared."

Tharkay studied his hands for a moment, "I'm a little shocked at what I've heard is all…" He turned and looked at Jane directly, "Can you tell me what happened? What you know happened?"

Jane was struck by so direct a question, "I don't know where to begin…"

Jane took a draught of the watered rum they were served and then told him everything she knew. He listened intently without interruption and Jane was almost glad to be able to unload to someone besides Excidium who was liable to brush it off as silly human problems. "I had a mind to kill him myself after reading that note…"

Tharkay's mouth twitched in amusement, he almost smiled. He was silent a moment, thoughtful. "So why aren't they trying to make use of Temeraire? As long as Laurence lives—"

"It's a terrible thing though. I couldn't ask it of a dragon—Admiral Sanderson did though and Temeraire refused. I can only guess that he's done so for Laurence."

"If the French invade they will need Temeraire, couldn't he be forgiven and allowed to fight? Why hasn't—"

It's not so simple Tharkay. The Admiralty had a lot of faith in their plan to sicken the French dragons. They were pursuing us over the matter almost as soon as word got out about the theft at Loch Laggan. Some of his men, very promising officers, have been relieved. And Granby—it ruined him. He was already having problems reigning Iskierka in, but after the trials he's lost any measure of dignity he might have had." Jane shook her head; "He's in his cups more often than not most nights…" she trailed off.

Tharkay frowned thoughtfully, but did not comment anymore. She turned to find him looking at her, studying her scared face. His face blank and expressionless.

"So what will you do then Mr. Tharkay?" she asked finally, more to break the silence than out of interest. Tharkay just shrugged and fumbled with his empty tumbler. After a few moments he smiled.

"I still want to leave," Jane frowned at that but before she could interject, he said, "I'll sneak out—no one will be the wiser," Tharkay's smile stretched into and obstinate grin. Jane laughed.

"You really are an odd fellow," she said, "Tell me, why don't you accept a commission? Help up route the Frogs and then you can be on your merry way."

"I'm not really a military man—I tried it once…" Tharkay shook his head, "I don't need to indulge some requisite yearning for honor and glory in service to the King—unlike some people we know—and in all likelihood, if I did accept such an errand, I'd find my self packed up to the chokey before too long."

"You'd be made a Captain for the Aerial Corps, not a bad turn really," Jane said.

"No thank you," Tharkay said.

"We need someone like you, more than ever," Jane was almost pleading now, "With the formations moving inland and the Strait guarded only by those feral dragons and a headstrong Kazilik, a captain with a cool head that understands their language would really—"

Tharkay shook his head, but he was grinning, "You make it difficult with your flattery Admiral Roland, but I'm not in the least bit interested in all of that." Tharkay laughed and motioned for a refill. Jane stared at him in frustration.

"You would be handsomely compensated I'm sure," she said.

"With another watery promise, I'm sure," he laughed, "So far I've nothing to show for my time with the Corps but a long list of empty assurances."

"I'll make sure of them, Mister Tharkay," she said earnestly, "If it takes me years or months, if I have to plead your case to every peer of the realm…" Jane trailed off; there was no arguing with him. Jane lifted her glass and drank it quickly, she couldn't help that she was upset. Ever since Laurence's treason, her voice seemed to have grown smaller and less credible.

Tharkay boldly put his thumb against her face where the old scar marred her left eye. He traced the scar slowly, his black on black irises shined with drink and good humor. Jane caught her breath and felt the color rising to her face.

"How did this happen?" he asked her.

Jane pulled away from him, "I'm an aviator in His Majesty's Service, so surely you can deduce how I might've received such an injury."

Her tone had gone from cajoling to suddenly cold, and Tharkay was smiling at the change. Jane looked away from him; certain he was only trying to provoke her ire. They finished their drinks in silence and finally Tharkay stood up.

"It's late," he said.

"Yes," she said following him to the door. Outside it had snowed while they were in the warmth of the Officer's Club and Tharkay looked out on the clean white landscape in apparent dismay. Jane laughed.

"Just a little snow, Tharkay." He nodded and looked around again, but continued to walk with her toward her billeting. "In all fairness, Mister Tharkay, I hope you will reconsider my offer."

"I'll think on it, then," he said.

"Are you tired at all?" Jane asked when they stopped at the main door to the building. "Can I interest you in a game of Piquet?"

"Piquet?" Tharkay said stomping his feet against the cold, "You play?"

"My favorite," Jane said.

"I don't really care for Piquet," Tharkay said after a moment's deliberation, "Or pretense."

Tharkay pushed her back against the door and leaned in brashly to press his mouth to hers.