Temeraire (lungtienxiang) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-02-05 10:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, temeraire: temeraire, temeraire: william laurence, the untamed: lan xichen |
A cauldron of tea
Laurence was still unconvinced that this wasn’t a dream. It would not be the first time he’d dreamed of Temeraire, and if this dream seemed kinder on the surface than many of the dreams Laurence had of Temeraire lately, most of which involving Temeraire being lost to him forever, he knew that it would only be all the crueler if he woke up and discovered that none of it had been real after all. It seemed real though, the chill winter air whipping at his face sharp enough to draw tears, the chain he’d bought Temeraire all those years before heavy on his calves; he’d have to invest in a proper set of goggles and a harness soon, he thought, and a proper flying jacket as well, as the winter coat he wore now wasn’t quite as good as leather for keeping the wind out. The discomforts were worth it though, to have the landscape passing distantly below him, Temeraire sturdy, solid and warm beneath him. There was much that Laurence wanted to show Temeraire. He’d like to take him over the city sometime soon, sure that Temeraire would be fascinated by the skyscrapers, though he thought he might wait on that a little: the native Valloian dragons, while apparently long extinct, were reportedly quite vicious, and the other dragons at the Dragon Preserve were little more than beasts, vicious and entirely without reason. He imagined he’d have to appeal to the DOA so that a general sort of announcement could be sent out, though he wasn’t too concerned about the citizens’ reactions to Temeraire once they learned that he was both intelligent and gentle. He wanted to read to him all the books that he’d set aside for him, to see if he might find a chocolate bar large enough for Temeraire to properly enjoy, to show him proper magic, to introduce him to his friends. He wasn’t yet sure if one of those things he wished to show Temeraire was the dragon preserve itself; the experience had disturbed Laurence greatly, like finding a place filled with mindless, bloodthirsty men, and he thought the effect would be greater on Temeraire. The first thing he knew that he wanted to show Temeraire, however, was the Cloud Recesses, and Lan Xichen in particular. From the start, he’d been sure that Temeraire and Lan Xichen would get along splendidly; Lan Xichen was artistic, a skilled poet, painter and musician, courteous and kind, and reportedly a skilled warrior to boot, all of which were qualities that Temeraire valued, and for his part, Lan Xichen had only ever expressed a great interest in meeting the dragon that had so shaped Laurence’s life. He’d explained to Temeraire that he and Lan Xichen had recently entered a romantic relationship, glad that dragons placed very little importance on gender or sexuality, and so he’d not been tasked with needing to explain anything awkward. He’d told Temeraire that Lan Xichen’s world had dragons only in its legends – something he still assumed to be true despite Lan Sizhui’s recent acquisition of a dragonette – and so he hoped that when the Cloud Recesses did finally come into view, elegant Chinese style buildings and beautiful stone gardens, all too closely packed together for Temeraire to land without threatening to crush the architecture, it didn’t come as too much of a shock. He allowed Temeraire to fly as closely as he’d like to the residences, sure that none of the residents would panic, and then directed him toward a clearing just a little south that he’d marked on one of his previous visits, wondering if Lan Xichen would already be waiting for them; Laurence had sent him a text earlier to be sure they’d be welcome. He was, of course, because Lan Xichen had been trained more or less from birth to be an excellent host. He’d never hosted a dragon before, but he knew enough from talking to Laurence to have some idea what to expect. Accordingly, he’d quickly discussed the matter with the other members of the household, gotten his brother to help carry out a cauldron that a dragon could use as a teacup, and by the time Temeraire landed he was waiting with tea for three in all his usual serenity. Underneath the serenity was a touch of awe. In Lan Xichen’s world, dragons were celestial beings, unseen for centuries if they had ever truly flown over the earth at all, considered something akin to gods. He knew Temeraire wasn’t one, of course, but there was still something rather incredible about seeing a massive creature of legend come flying out of the sky to land in one’s own yard. Perhaps weighing on him even more was the knowledge that he was about to meet undoubtedly the most significant member of Laurence’s family. Lan Xichen had always hoped to meet Temeraire, and certainly no one had ever found fault with his manners before–and indeed, in his home world he was considered quite an exceptional catch–but there would always be some worry attached to encountering the honored family of one’s beloved for the first time, especially when no courtship discussion could be had ahead of time. When Temeraire first landed, Lan Xichen looked up, then bowed politely. “Welcome to Cloud Recesses.” Since finding Laurence and learning about the strange place he was in, Temeraire was on fire with curiosity. It was something marvelous to fly over an entirely unknown landscape, to look at anything one liked, and all the better for having Laurence there with him. As they flew into the Cloud Recesses, Temeraire kept up a fascinated and detailed commentary on each of the lovely buildings, even if they were much tighter together than he was used to seeing in China, it was almost like being there; he half expected Lung Shen Shi to appear out of the air beside him and offer him something to eat, or to see one of the tiny Jade Dragons fly by with an important message. He would have lingered over each of the roofs to admire them properly, except that he was just as eager to reach their meeting place, so he let Laurence guide him on. He had always been rather possessive of Laurence when it came to what people called romance, as it seemed to him that things like marriage and children were most undesirable; although Churki and the Incan dragons had done a little to soften his attitude in this regard in a general way, he still did not like the idea of Laurence settling down with some woman and, though it might be quite selfish, spend his time making a family when he already had Temeraire for company. Jane Roland was different, as she was an officer and perfectly sensible about that sort of thing. As far as Temeraire knew, Laurence had had no interest in anyone else, so it was a surprise to say the least to learn that in his absence Laurence had met someone. Temeraire did not mind in the least that it was a man - in fact this was preferable, as there was no danger, as he understood, of children - only curious that Laurence himself seemed so content with it, after he had been so disquieted over Granby. It cast into painful relief that Laurence had been here so long without him, to have made such connections, and it made him all the more afire to meet Lan Xichen and make sure for himself that the man was quite suitable. The first impression was certainly a good one, as he landed in the small clearing to see that the stranger was dressed quite like the Emperor’s most distinguished dignitaries, in robes the likes of which he had often tried - mostly in vain - to make Laurence wear when it was appropriate. “Thank you,” he replied, a low rumble which made the earth vibrate underfoot. He reached up to lift Laurence down off his back and place him carefully down on the ground before returning Lan Xichen’s bow, with lowered head and a dramatic sweep of his tail, only then settling down on his forelegs. He wasn’t sure if his mother would approve of him bowing to anyone who wasn’t a member of the Imperial family, but then she wasn’t there to advise him of all the niceties. He recited a formal greeting anyway, in Chinese, and then added, “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Temeraire, and also Lung Tien Xiang.” He considered listing his military titles, but decided it might sound too much like showing away; besides, he was not strictly in the military anymore. “Oh,” he said then, on smelling the lovely fragrant tea and looking around to see the cauldron, “that is very hospitable, I must say. I have not been offered tea as a guest since Paris, and one does not like to accept things when they are offered by the enemy; is that not handsome, Laurence?” Laurence, perhaps, shouldn’t have been surprised by the fact that Lan Xichen had managed to brew an entire cauldron of tea in the time that had passed since his message, but he was impressed. He’d been nervous, a little, about how the meeting would go. He knew that under normal circumstances, Temeraire would have been quite taken with Lan Xichen. He also knew that Temeraire could be prone to unexpected jealousies at times, and it wasn’t quite sure what to do if Temeraire proved unexpectedly obstinate. It was strange, hearing Temeraire talk of events which Laurence had no memory of – he wondered, a little, at the series of events that led to Temeraire being served tea in Paris, if not by Lien, then certainly by her subordinates – but he was more pleased than anything by Temeraire’s evident pleasure at the tea here. “It’s very handsome,” Laurence agreed, beaming at Temeraire, a hand on his forearm, and then turning his gaze to Lan Xichen, his smile only growing broader. “Very handsome indeed. I hope it was not too much trouble. I know we’ve come on very short notice.” “You are never any trouble, and of course neither is your companion,” Lan Xichen replied. In truth, he was delighted for Laurence; he knew how the man had missed his dragon. It was a pleasure to see them reunited. He turned his attention back to Temeraire–it really would take some getting used to, having a conversation with a creature so many times his size. Was this how the rabbits of Cloud Recesses felt when the resident humans approached? “I am Lan Huan, courtesy Lan Xichen, titled Zewu-Jun, leader of the Lan Clan of Gusu,” he said. There was a dimensional shift and a few centuries of time between the China he came from and the one where Temeraire was hatched, but they were similar enough that the formalities were not completely different. “But as my clan is currently four people, you are Will’s family, and Vallo is much less formal than we are used to, please be free to call me Lan Xichen or just Xichen, as most people here do.” “Thank you, I would certainly not like to be rude,” Temeraire replied, and promptly gave himself the lie by adding, “I very much like the look of your home - although the streets really ought to be a lot wider, and those little bridges do not look very sturdy.” He put his head close to the ground so as to get a closer look at the man, who called Laurence Will as did only his very closest friends, and was indeed dressed very nicely, though of course that was the least Laurence was due. Laurence stifled a smile, and reluctantly left Temeraire’s side; it was quite without reason, but he had some superstitious fear that the moment he took his hand from Temeraire’s hide, he’d disappear again back home. “You cannot fault them too much for that,” Laurence said, moving to take a seat where Lan Xichen had prepared for him a cup. “They’d not expected any visiting dragons when they’d had the place built; I’m sure if they’d only known to expect it, they’d have made different decisions in their planning.” “We would,” Lan Xichen agreed, because obviously if one were to have friends and family who were large as a sailing vessel, architecture would have to make some concessions. “In the world this estate comes from, there are no dragons, so the ancestors who designed it didn’t need to leave space for them. Likewise the teaware,” he added with an apologetic smile. “I hope I was correct in assuming that it would be better to offer tea in a makeshift cup than to offer none at all.” He made a gesture that flashed a thin piece of paper into the air in front of him; another gesture made the characters written on it glow bright red, and a third placed it firmly in the center of the tea table, radiating gentle heat in the area where Laurence sat and where Lan Xichen soon joined him. Temeraire was about to say that he did not mind at all, as Lan Xichen could hardly be expected to have teacups the size of elephants if he was not used to entertaining dragons at home, but his attention was immediately diverted by this display. “Ooh,” he said, watching intently with his pupils stretched wide in his great blue eyes. “How marvellous; is that magic, then? How does it work? Do you suppose I could learn how?” He was quite certain he should be able to, if it was anything like in the stories he had read about the ancient dragons of the East; Mei had not thought there was much truth in such old tales, but it stood to reason they must have come from somewhere. A dragon with the divine wind who could also do magic would be quite prodigious in battle, he thought, and would not be hard pressed to get even the most stodgy politician to listen to him. Magic was growing more familiar to Laurence, especially as nearly everyone closest to him had magic in some form in this world, but he still felt a sense of wonder every time he saw it. It was a pleasure to see Temeraire so enthralled as well, though his question brought Laurence up short. He'd not once thought about the possibility that someone not born to magic might learn it, had never thought to ask, and he turned to Lan Xichen. "Is such a thing possible?" he asked. “I don’t know,” Lan Xichen said, a little surprised to even be considering the concept. “In my home world, it probably would be. Most people there are capable of cultivating at least some ability, with sufficient discipline and study. Here…I’m not sure. People access power in such different ways, while some are incapable of touching any at all.” Dorian, he knew, had learned some magic that was different from the magic in his own world. There were some others, he’d heard, who didn’t have any unusual abilities in their own worlds (that they knew of) but had learned things here. The only way to test it, he supposed, would be for Temeraire to take some instruction and give it a try. Temeraire allowed himself to be cheered; that was not after all a straight no, and he was not opposed to studying so long as it was not all one was allowed to do. Discipline was a word he liked less, when applied to him specifically, but he chose to selectively not hear that part quite as well. He picked up the cauldron delicately between two talons and sipped with satisfaction. “It is very nice,” he said, contentedly, before turning his eye back on Lan Xichen with some more scrutiny. “Laurence says you are a poet,” he said, curiously. Lan Xichen got the impression that he was being evaluated, but he had more or less expected that, and Temeraire was much less blunt about it than Jin Ling had been with Laurence or George. He resolved to respond with politeness and honesty and simply try to react as though this particular protective family member were not capable of crushing him under one mighty foot. “I am hardly a master of the art, but I do enjoy it,” Lan Xichen replied. “I’ve been told you enjoy hearing poetry; do you write, as well?” “Oh, only a little, for there has not been much time - we have been very busy fighting the war, you see,” Temeraire said, not very regretfully, “and trying to make things better for dragons in Europe, and keeping Laurence from getting himself killed takes up a lot of time, as well,” he added, rather pointedly, “but I have composed some in my head which I might write down, one day, and I can recite almost all those that I have heard, if they are not too long.” This last was not a brag, in his opinion, merely pure fact. “I like the dragon poets best, particularly Lung Li Po, but I know also some Keats and Wordsworth. I do not think much of Shakespeare, since he writes mostly about people falling in love or cutting each other’s heads off, which is not very interesting.” In truth, he had complained vigorously to Laurence about the lack of draconic representation in King Lear, and Laurence had been strangely reluctant to read him any more of the plays after that. “Lung Li Po?” There were other interesting tidbits in what Temeraire said, especially given that he had just begun reading English poetry very recently, but that bit stood out. “There is a Li Po who is a poet in my world, as well, but he is human. I like to practice my calligraphy with his work. Does yours also write extensively on friendship and wine?” Temeraire’s ruff pricked with interest. “Sometimes,” he admitted, “although mostly he writes marvellous poems about flight. The Hard Road was the very first poem I ever heard, would you like it?” He did not need any more encouragement, he cleared his throat and recited in Chinese: Pure wine costs, for the golden bowl, ten thousand coppers a flagon, And a jade platter of dainty food calls for a million coins. I fling aside my bowl and meat, I cannot eat or drink… I raise my talons to the sky, I peer four ways in vain. I would cross the Yellow River, but ice takes hold of my limbs; I would fly above the Tai-hang Mountains, but the sky is blind with snow. I would sit and watch the golden carp, lazy by a brook - But I suddenly dream of crossing the waves, sailing for the sun… Journeying is hard, Journeying is hard. There are many turnings - Which am I to follow? I will mount a long wind some day and break the heavy bank of clouds And set my wings straight to the wide, wide sea. Lan Xichen listened with equal parts curiosity and delight. He loved poetry, and the poems of his native language sounded so much better when they weren’t being yanked through magical translation. Temeraire had a very nice voice for poetry, too, and not nearly so overwhelmingly loud as Lan Xichen would have expected from a being of his size. Most interesting of all, though, was that Lan Xichen knew this poem, and yet didn’t. “It’s almost exactly the same as the Li Po I know!” His fascinated enthusiasm made Lan Xichen more emotionally expressive than he normally was with someone on such a short acquaintance. In the face of artistic and academic glee, a bit of even-keeled propriety would have to be sacrificed. He recited the poem back in the version he knew—precisely the same in most parts, but instead of meat the poet flung aside his chopsticks, and he longed to climb the mountains rather than fly over them. Temeraire’s tail twitched with excitement, both at his enjoyment of the exchange and the idea that some dragons might have human counterparts in other worlds. “How famous,” he said when Lan Xichen had finished, his imagination already starting to run away with him; “I wonder if there are any more,” meaning matching poems, but caught himself from launching into another recitation, not wanting to further leave Laurence out. He loved Laurence with an almost irrational intensity, but there was really no accounting for his taste in literature, sometimes. “Perhaps we might discuss it at length, sometime,” he said instead, reigning himself in with some difficulty and reminding himself of his greater purpose in being there. “We should,” Lan Xichen agreed with a faintly amused smile. He hadn’t expected such polite restraint from the dragon. Of course, that was quite correct, with Laurence’s interest in poetry more or less beginning and ending with how much people he cared for liked it. “I need to acquire a proper tea cup for you; when I have, I would be honored to have you as a guest to discuss the arts further. Will, you may of course join us if you like, but do not feel obligated, as we would not want you to die of boredom.” Laurence had had very little doubt that Lan Xichen and Temeraire would hit it off, so long as Temeraire kept an open mind. Of that, he had been less certain, Temeraire often being unpredictable and sometimes choosing to get stuck on some particular point that Laurence himself rarely noticed without his attention being drawn to it. If that had happened, Laurence wasn't sure what he could have done, save try again at some point in the future; his duty was, first, foremost, and always, to Temeraire, and he didn't want to think of what he'd need to had Temeraire not approved of Lan Xichen. He didn't think he could bear it. But as they got onto the topic of poetry, Laurence's fears melted entirely away. He blushed, a little, at Temeraire's pointed comment about his propensity for getting himself in trouble, and a little more at his comment about Shakespeare: Laurence was no great judge of poetry, and Shakespeare the poet he knew best. He'd been reciting to Lan Xichen a little, now and then, and now he worried that he'd done a disservice to English poetry. Aside from that, however, he only half listened to the both of them as they began on the subject of poetry, letting the words wash over him, the cadence of their voices, the way Lan Xichen's face lit up and Temeraire's tail twitched, more important than whatever they recited. The warmth that filled him was only partially Lan Xichen's magic. His mind turned to the more practical matters of Temeraire's arrival, as he idly sipped at his perfumed tea. He'd been saving and investing since he arrived, and he thought he had enough put away for a sizable piece of land, though how he'd keep Temeraire fed was another matter. He had little enough experience with keeping livestock -- enough to know it was expensive and that he'd have to do quite a lot of research to keep it sustainable. He wondered if cattle was the wisest course of action, or if sheep would be cheaper, and resisted the urge to pull out his phone right then to begin the research. He came back to the conversation when Lan Xichen said his name, quickly turning the last few moments in his mind to see if he had missed anything of importance, and shook his head. "I assure you I could never be bored in your presence, Darling," he said truthfully enough. "But I've no objection should you two wish to meet without me." In fact, he rather liked the thought, Temeraire previously showing little interest in meeting other humans without Laurence's presence; it was rarely a problem back home, but there were no dragons here that Laurence knew of fit for Temeraire's company -- Feilong possibly the one exception, though as far as he knew, she was capable of no conversation understood by man -- and he worried a little that he'd grow lonely or bored without stimulating conversation. Anyone might be surprised at Temeraire’s restraint, having learned of him from a Laurence of four years ago; he had had to learn at least a little patience by necessity, first as commander of the Chinese legions and then as flag dragon of the entire allied aerial forces in the last weeks of the war in Europe. With dragons like Iskierka and Ning around, someone had to be the voice of reason, and Temeraire liked to think he had matured considerably over those intervening years. All this, however, he might as well have forgotten as he said, “Of course we would never wish to be without you, Laurence, but I will not be offended if you beg to be excused, especially as this nice tea will go quite to waste, otherwise.” To Lan Xichen he said, “he does not like it, no matter how much he will drink to be polite.” Lan Xichen paused, his outer serene expression not revealing his shock except in its stillness. Laurence hated tea? Laurence had never said he hated tea. Laurence had never even suggested that he might not want tea. Not to mention, to Lan Xichen, tea (the green or white tea he was accustomed to making and drinking) was such a basic beverage. Who didn’t like tea? Laurence, apparently, who it seemed would have gone on drinking tea he didn’t like until one of them died–which was actually rather funny, now that Lan Xichen thought of it. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, giving Temeraire a faint smile and a nod of gratitude. “I can attest that yes, he will drink a great deal of tea to be polite, and will never suggest he would rather do otherwise.” “Temeraire,” Laurence croaked, flushing, wanting nothing so much as to cover his face with his hand and slink off somewhere to hide until his mortification passed. It was true that he had little taste for the green and white varieties that Lan Xichen was so fond of, and all his months in China, indeed, all his months here in Vallo as well had never reconciled him to it. He’d drunk it first out of a sense of politeness, and then too much time had passed to mention that he didn’t particularly care for the taste. In any case, the company was more than adequate to compensate for the flavour. “My apologies, Huan,” he managed. “By the time I realized I should have said something, the time had already passed. It’s not that I don’t enjoy having tea with you, it’s only that I prefer a strong, black tea, with milk.” Perhaps he should object to Temeraire and Lan Xichen meeting without him after all; he’d already disclosed to Lan Xichen his treason, and his subsequent merciless campaign against the French who’d invaded England, but that didn’t mean that Temeraire mightn’t let slip something else that Laurence hadn’t exactly disclosed. Like the fact that he didn’t like the tea Lan Xichen had been serving him regularly for months. “It is important to be polite, but there is a point where politeness interferes with logic,” Temeraire pointed out, snorting hot air through his nostrils. “If you only came out and said you did not like it, you would not have to keep pretending to like something you do not, and perhaps get to enjoy something you do, instead.” He shook his head. “If Lan Xichen likes you so much, I’m sure he will not be offended.” “I am not,” Lan Xichen confirmed, now much too amused with how mortified Laurence looked to question his own tea-brewing abilities. Lan Xichen might be a touch sensitive about being lied to, but this was much too silly a thing to trigger it. He reached out to briefly lay a reassuring hand on Laurence’s arm. “And you should tell me if there is anything else you’ve been keeping from me for the sake of politeness; otherwise I will have to ask—“ He’d been about to say Temeraire, then realized that he’d not been told how the dragon would prefer to be addressed by a new acquaintance. It was hard to tell with foreign names. He looked up at Temeraire once more. “I’m sorry—how shall I call you?” “Oh, I do not mind at all,” Temeraire said, with the easy dismissal of one who had not been raised in his own homeland, and did not have quite the same strength of feeling when it came to observing tradition. “You may call me Temeraire - or perhaps Xiang. It might be nice to hear; it has been over a year since we were in China. You may ask anything you like, or course, I am not so contrary as to leave things out that are better explained right away.” He stretched contentedly and sipped more tea. “And I must thank you for looking after Laurence while I was not here,” he added. “I’m afraid he will get into scrapes on occasion - which are not always his fault.” “Xiang, then,” Lan Xichen agreed. It was much more familiar than he’d normally be with someone he just met, but he’d heard so much about Temeraire from Laurence that it felt like he’d known him much longer. To have someone who mattered so much to Laurence offer such a friendly address seemed auspicious, too. This meeting had come with a bit of trepidation attached, for all that Lan Xichen was generally very confident of his ability to present himself well, and now he was feeling quite reassured that they were going to be just fine. “The most recent scrape was certainly not his fault,” he continued, back to the topic at hand. “You’ll be pleased to know that they are very advanced in the healing arts here. Between magic and science, the doctors of Vallo are able to keep us all very well, even when things go awry–so you may be able to worry somewhat less.” Laurence smiled, reassured, laying his hand briefly on Lan Xichen’s when he touched his arm. “At the moment, I can think of nothing else of importance, though if I do I’ll be sure to let you know.” He turned his attention back to Temeraire. There seemed little point in arguing that very rarely were the scrapes Laurence got into were of his own making, particularly as he didn’t quite know what sorts of troubles Temeraire remembered over the last four years: he rather suspected at least one of them involved a duel. “Huan is quite correct, the doctors and healers of this place are top notch; a mortal wound back home can likely be cured in a matter of hours here, if the need is desperate enough. Even if I were to get myself injured, there’s little cause for worry.” He did worry, a little, about what would happen if Temeraire got so injured – was the magic here sufficient for a creature his size? Did it only work on human physiology? – but for all the creatures he’d encountered here so far, he didn’t think any of them thus far would have been capable of dealing the dragon a mortal blow, so he could take comfort in that, at least. Temeraire had a not-irrational distaste for surgeons of the human variety, only because he had so often heard the sailors - on practically every ship he had ever sailed upon - complain so vigorously of their incompetence. They always seemed to consider cutting something off to be the best solution to every problem, and Temeraire liked Laurence with all of his limbs. “That is very good,” he said, sounding a little doubtful. “But I would prefer there were no mortal wounds in the first place.” “I agree.” Lan Xichen nodded. “So far, I don’t believe we’ve had anything mortal, have we?” He glanced to Laurence for confirmation. “I think my reaction to the pain medication was actually worse than the bite I had from our last monster problem.” The bite from the–no, he was absolutely not going to call those eyeless monsters creepy fuckers regardless of the local parlance–creature was very painful, but he wasn’t about to bleed to death from it. Learning that he was just as sensitive to the pain relief potion as he was to alcohol, however, had been quite the adventure. Laurence shook his head in confirmation; he’d never had more than a fractured bone or a dislocated shoulder since arriving here, and if anyone he knew had had worse, he hadn’t known about it. He tried not to look amused when Lan Xichen mentioned his reaction to the pain medication. It hadn’t been comical, exactly, but it had been charming seeing him like that, though he knew that Lan Xichen had experienced a fair amount of embarrassment the next day. “It wasn’t so bad,” Laurence assured him. “And there are few men who can keep their heads with painkillers.” It was one of the reasons why Laurence refused them, though he didn’t always keep his head when he was in a great deal of pain, either. “The chances of grievous injury are low here regardless; there’s no war being fought or battles waged, and I imagine we won’t come across many threats that you can’t handle quite easily, Temeraire. I rather worry you’ll grow bored.” Laurence would have to be sure to keep up a steady supply of books and other such entertainment, and maybe the opportunity to truly practice some of the more scholarly pursuits Temeraire had always shown an interest in would stave off the worst of it. “Well,” Temeraire said practically. “I can see there are other things to do, and places to see. I do not think I shall be bored at all. And perhaps,” he added, with a little too much wistfulness, “there might be some more monsters, lurking about, which I might take care of.” “A new issue of that sort seems to turn up every few weeks or so,” Lan Xichen assured him, despite feeling that was a very strange thing to be offering someone as reassurance. Don’t worry, there are plenty of monsters here on a regular basis. “And when there are not monsters, there are many entertainments, new foods to try, things to learn, and so on. Speaking of which–you have arrived just in time for the celebration of the new year we will be holding here tomorrow. We would be honored if you chose to join us for the evening before we all go to see the Enki coven’s fireworks.” “Ooh, I would like that very much,” Temeraire said, all thoughts of monsters gone from his mind entirely at the idea. Lung Qin Mei and the other Chinese dragons of his acquaintance often spoke wistfully of the New Year celebrations at home, but he had never had the chance to see one, except for one night on the Allegiance when the men had had their own dinner, and the Chinese cooks had come up on deck to serve him spiced beef sausages and fish with noodles, and the delicious stuffed sheep in sweet sauce. His stomach practically rumbled at the memory, but it was not really the same as being part of the actual event. Besides, the whole thing was rather tainted in his memory for having been the same night someone tried to assassinate Laurence, and not for the last time, either. “I would be honoured to accept your invitation,” he said, formally. Lan Xichen, he thought, was quite an admirable person. |