Alternative versions of people had been appearing in Vallo these last few days; that much had been made clear. People where something at home had changed, and they’d arrived at Vallo with no memory of themselves. Laurence hadn’t thought it would happen to Temeraire; hadn’t thought it would happen to any of those housed at the Dragon Covert.
The idea of there being some universe where Temeraire didn’t know him at all was more disquieting than Laurence had thought it would be. He didn’t believe in anything so abstract as destiny or fate, but he had thought… well, some part of him must have believed that no matter what happened in their lives, somehow he and Temeraire would be together. There had been one horrifying moment where he thought that Temeraire had come from a universe where he’d made his way to France to be companion to Napoleon Bonaparte. Temeraire was speaking French, and Bonaparte would give him some lofty name like Céleste; Bonaparte wouldn’t be able to resist letting all the world know that he had been partnered with a dragon that was bred to be companion to an emperor; a declaration that China had seen fit to acknowledge him as one, and so too should all of Europe.
His relief at finding out that wasn’t so was short-lived, however. It had been sometime since Temeraire had awoken them all with a roar and had flown off to Heaven-knew-where. Laurence had been sure that if something had upset the dragon, then he would have let Laurence know when he was ready, and so he hadn’t gone seeking him until he’d found the old, framed photograph of them both on the mantle in the parlour; a photograph from their own world. Laurence was a good deal older in it; in his sixties or seventies, he estimated, and he had no memories of the photograph being taken, even in the extra memories he’d gained when Vallo had seen fit to age him up.
He regretted his lack of earlier action. He wondered if Temeraire – no, if Céleste – had seen fit to relieve some Valloian citizens of their treasures in the interim. He could scarcely imagine a Temeraire turned thief but then… well, Laurence had had a devil of a time teaching Temeraire about property when he had been a hatchling; if there hadn’t been anyone to teach him the rules of conduct since…
He’d donned his harness before he took the waypoints to Vallo city, and then had flagged down a cab to take him to the same plateau he had first found Temeraire on, when Temeraire had first arrived in Vallo nearly two years ago. He hoped the dragon hadn’t lost patience and flown off before he got there, and was more than a little relieved when he saw him from a distance, and held his breath as the dragon grew larger and larger at their approach, praying that he wouldn’t fly off at the last moment. He tipped the cab driver well, and approached, stopping a safe distance away; he didn’t think Temeraire was dangerous, he couldn’t think any version of Temeraire would be. And yet from Temeraire’s own account, he hadn’t had the best record with men…
“Céleste!” he called. “I thank you for waiting for me. I hope I did not keep you waiting long.”
Céleste was a young dragon who was quite blissfully unaware of how little he really knew of the world; there was his island, where Galant and the others lived, and a few other little islands which were not quite so nice, and the ocean, where fish lived and men travelled on their ships, which was, he was vaguely aware, how he had come to be on the island at all. But as far as he knew, that was the whole world contained within, although some of the other dragons spoke of far-away lands sometimes, which he was determined to one day visit. But this place, where he had found himself when waking that morning, was not like anything he had seen in his life, or even imagined. He had woken quite comfortable and warm, but on opening his eyes expecting to see white sands and blue ocean, had found only an expanse of green grass, and a big stone thing, quite unnatural, and closer to him a big wooden thing like a cave, but painted brightly. He regretted a little, now, not investigating it closer, but at the time he had not been able to quench the rush of panic at finding himself quite so lost, with no idea how he had come there, and had taken off in flight at once to try and find his way home.
This was silly, he realised quite quickly, since he had flown quite far around his home island and never seen anything like this place, so it stood to reason that he could fly for a day or so in any direction and not come anywhere near. But since it also stood to reason that he could not have flown here in his sleep, he had not the slightest idea how to account for it, and he was extremely disquieted and stressed as a result. He had grown used, in the last months, to being the leader of the littler dragons of his acquaintance thanks to his size and conformation, and being braver and more adventurous than they, and being the one who had the idea to capture that first ship, and all its gold, and the many ships since. He had become quite sure of himself, for a dragon not even a year out of the shell, with not even any battlescars to speak of, and suddenly he had never been less sure, even in the first hours after his hatching.
He had flown over lots of trees, but also a place full of tall, pointy squarish things which must be buildings, where men were meant to live, except he had never imagined them so big, and all other kinds of strangeness he could not explain, and he could only wing his way towards the distant, comforting sound and smell of the sea, which was the only thing he recognised. Except that when he found it, it was not like his sea at all, it was rough with waves and too dark a blue, and he was very cold after his flight in the chill air, which he was not at all used to, so that he did not even much like the idea of going out to look for fish, even though he was getting hungry with all the anxiety.
And then something started making noise, quite close to his ear, and when he spoke to it it spoke back, in French, not the dragon language, so he landed and curled up on the cliff edge very unhappy and confused, his tail switching back and forth like a frightened cat. The only thing that soothed him at all while he waited was seeing the giant pearl which adorned the lovely chain around his neck, which he could at least admire even if he was made even more bewildered by its provenance, until a very small figure came towards him and spoke with the same sort of voice. “Oh,” he said, peering over with wary interest. “Are you Laurence? You are a man, then.”
“I am, yes,” Laurence confirmed, eyeing the dragon.
It was Temeraire, and yet not Temeraire. He would recognize his dragon anywhere, the lilt of his voice, the particular way that he held his head. But this dragon did not bear the marks of battle that his Temeraire did. There was no knot of scar tissue in his breast from when he'd taken a nasty, spiked cannonball on their way to China, and both his eyes were bright and blue; he no longer winced to see Temeraire's scarred eye, but sometimes he was made horribly aware of how he hadn't been able to prevent it when that horrible, seemingly endless night had fallen. The other scars Temeraire bore, from dragon claw, cannon, or rifle shot were missing as well.
Did Temeraire bear those scars because of his proximity to Laurence. If Laurence were absent from his life, would he have been safer? The thought was disquieting; it was hard not to recall Yongxing’s criticisms of Laurence all those many years ago.
Perhaps was it simply that Temeraire appeared younger; he was slightly smaller than the Temeraire Laurence knew, and he had the nervous energy that was more common in young dragons; he didn't have the careful dignity that Temeraire possessed. And if Temeraire – Céleste was attacking men for their treasure, with no human crew to help guide him and to tend his wounds, well, there was every chance he'd wind up dead before he wound up scarred.
Laurence swallowed his unease, and drew himself upright.
“I am Will Laurence,” he said. “I'm who you spoke to on your mobile phone: the device you carry on your chain. May I approach? I’m unarmed.”
Céleste snorted, sending up a small cloud of dust. “As if you could hurt me anyway,” he said, although he peered over just to make sure the man wasn’t somehow hiding a pepper gun somewhere about his person. He craned his neck back to try and see the device that was mentioned, but it was in a place where he could not manage. “Come on, then,” he said, reasoning that he may as well speak to the only person around who might have answers as to his situation. “I will not harm you, if you are not going to attack me.”
“I know you won’t,” Laurence said. There’d never been any doubt in his mind that Céleste wouldn’t be as intelligent and reasonable as Temeraire was, but his shoulders did relax a little. He placed a hand on Céleste’s warm, scaled forearm when he approached. He was younger, Laurence suspected, by several years. He chewed that over, wondering, and then dismissed it to be wondered at later; he would not think about whether or not Céleste was likely to to survive to Temeraire’s age if he continued on as he had been.
“You haven’t taken any men’s treasure’s since you’ve arrived here in Vallo, have you?” Laurence asked, allowing a little bit of sternness to creep into his voice. He didn’t see any treasures about the dragon’s person, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t found some secret cove somewhere to hide them in.
Céleste could not help peering down with some curiosity; he had never been up quite so close to a man before. It was a wonder how they managed at all, being so small, but he supposed they made up for it with their ingenuity and clever hands that built ships and great shiny towers. He bristled a little at this veiled accusation, however. “Certainly not,” he said. “Well, I have not seen anything I would like, much, or any ships. I have this,” he admitted, nosing at the great pearl on its chain, “but it was there when I woke up, so it stands to reason it is mine, and anyone who wants to come and take it may certainly try.” He gave the small figure a warning look. Not that he was afraid of one man, not at all, but he might after all have some friends, somewhere, and they might have pepper guns, or cannons.
Laurence smiled. “No, my d –” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “No, the pearl was given to you as a gift. It is all your own, and I promise that no one will try taking it from you.” He couldn't keep the amusement from his voice as he continued. “What would a dragon want with a ship in any case?”
“Well, usually they have gold in them,” the dragon replied, in a tone that suggested Laurence really ought to have figured that out on his own. “Or jewels, or other nice things, and also sometimes food, although there is not usually enough of that to go around all of us, so I let the others have most of it.” He switched his tail again, as he remembered the growling feeling in his stomach. “Is there food here?” he asked. “I am quite hungry. I could go fishing, perhaps.”
“Oh, of course,” Laurence said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. He wondered how Céleste had removed the food and gold from the ships, but if he were running with a gaggle of ferals, then perhaps some of them might be small enough to make it into the hold and haul the treasures out.
He wondered if Céleste might be convinced to capture French ships for England. He knew that once the dragon returned to whatever world he had come from, he would forget his stay in Vallo entirely, but Laurence had never managed to bring himself to believe that one was completely unchanged by their stays in Vallo. He had to believe that some part of them would be forever changed by Vallo, no matter how long or short their stay here was. Maybe they’d never know it, but perhaps something inside them would influence their decisions one way or another when they returned home. And so, perhaps, if he convinced Céleste to take a commission with Britain, he would be more inclined to do so once returning home, even if he didn’t know exactly why.
But he knew better than to try to convince a dragon to do anything.
“We might go fishing, if you wish. And I have a nice mutton stew cooking for… cooking at home, if you would like to try it. If you would take me up, then I might clasp onto your chain and we can continue to converse as we fly.”
“Well,” Céleste said, a tad reluctant, not wanting to be taken for some colonial dragon such as the sort Gelant had run away from, but he was driven mostly by the desire to eat by now. “Very well, then, I will carry you.” He reasoned that one man could not do very much harm, and it would be easy enough to get rid of him, any time he liked. He let Laurence climb up to sit on his back. “What is mutton, if you please? Is it very nice?”
Laurence attached his carabiner to the platinum chain of Temeraire’s necklace and gave a couple of sharp tugs on it before declaring “All’s Well,” and pulling on his goggles, thinking about Temeraire’s question all the while. He knew that Temeraire preferred beef, though keeping sheep was both easier and less expensive than keeping cattle. But Temeraire had never made any serious complaint about the mutton, and Laurence knew he liked it well enough.
“It’s red meat,” he said, considering. He suspected that Céleste had been raised largely on fish. He wondered if he’d had any red meat at all to compare it to. “So it’s quite different from fish. But I think you’ll like it well enough. I’ve added some spices and vegetables too, so I think it’ll be quite unlike anything you’ve eaten before. But I suspect that you’ll enjoy it.”
If a dragon’s mouth could water, Céleste’s certainly would have by now, with all this talk of delicious meat. He took off without any further conversation, only vaguely wondering if the man would be able to stay on during his twisting manoeuvres which worked best for fishing. Well, it was not his responsibility if the fellow liked to drown himself, after all, although he supposed he would try and keep him on, if only because he still intended on finding out where he was, at some point. He flew out over the magnificent bay into the ocean, keeping an eye out for tell-tale spray, and eventually made a sudden dive and came up with a couple of crunchy porpoises, which he ate in the air before resuming his hunt. It suddenly seemed like weeks since he had last eaten. Once he was at last full, he took on some height to get a better view of the land he had flown out from. It seemed to be a very odd place, and not just because it appeared much more inhabited than anywhere he had ever been. He had almost forgotten about Laurence entirely until he felt him shifting slightly. “Is it an island?” he asked, noting the way the land’s horizon to either side seemed to curve away. “It must be very big.”
Laurence had gone fishing with Temeraire before, and had thought himself prepared for the experience. Of course, Temeraire had always been very conscious of the fact that Laurence had been sitting on his back, and Céleste had much less aware of him. Laurence was thoroughly drenched, and while he was glad that his flying leathers kept out the worst of the biting, high-altitude wind, he still found himself shivering, a little.
“It's difficult to get a proper estimate of its size, as it's constantly shifting with the magic of this place. But I suspect that it's about the size of Great Britain.”
Except, of course, that Céleste had never been to Great Britain; very likely, he had very little knowledge of the human names for any island. He frowned to himself.
“If you've never had a Captain, how did you come upon the name Céleste?” For surely Céleste was a human name; he couldn't imagine a word that was so clearly French arising naturally in any draconic language.
Céleste considered this. “Well, I remembered people saying it, when I was in the shell,” he explained, starting to fly a slow line along the coast with his head turned slightly to take in the mysterious land to best advantage. “I was shipwrecked, Galant says, and that is why there was only one man there when I hatched. And there was no talking to him, since he was already dead a long time, so I chose my name from what they called me. I suppose that is not how it is usually done, where you come from,” he added, with self-conscious curiosity. “This “Great Britain” is your land?”
“I don’t know how feral dragons get their names,” Laurence said. “But I don’t know if the Aerial Corps way of doing things is necessarily the best way; I know of at least two dragons who chose their own name in the shell.” They were, the both of them, on the greedy and undisciplined side. But given everything, perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that they took their autonomy when they saw it. “I think Céleste is a fine name, for what it’s worth.” He patted Céleste’s shoulder affectionately. “Great Britain is where I come from. Would you like to hear of it?”
“Yes,” Céleste siad, matter-of-fact, “but I want to know about this place also, and how I came to be here so suddenly. Are there no other dragons here?” He took on air for a better view of the distant, sparkling city, “I have not seen any.”
“No, I’m afraid not, my dear,” he said. It wasn’t truly a lie; dragons like those that Céleste and Laurence were familiar with didn’t exist in Vallo.
Céleste’s tail swished in the air with uncertainty, unsure whether he was more disturbed by the concept of a land with no dragons at all, or the way this total stranger spoke to him, with such familiarity of manner. “Why do you call me ‘dear’ as though we know one another?” he asked, wondering if this was some peculiarity of the French language he had somehow not grasped. “Only I am quite sure we have never met before.”
Laurence hesitated, then laid his hand on Céleste’s neck. He wondered if the dragon would even notice, lacking as he was of Temeraire’s awareness of him. “You remind me very much of a dragon named Temeraire. We’ve been companions together for some time. Please forgive me if I slip into old habits, I do not mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“I am not, at all.” Céleste was only curious. It was nice to have some company on a flight, he admitted to himself, so that one could have a conversation, and he did not have to guess about what the many strange things were that he saw as they flew the length of the coast. Most of the answers only brought up more questions, but it was an exhilarating flood of new and strange information. “I am getting tired now,” he said eventually, after finding another large fish and hovering to eat it mid-air. He was used to long ocean flights, but he was not even at his full growth just yet, and his growing wing-joints fatigued faster than the little dragons who did not have so much weight to carry. He did not much like the idea of lying out in the open in this strange place, not that he was afraid, in the least. “Is there a cave or something here where we can rest?”
Laurence smiled. “I think I can do you better than a cave. Do you recall where you woke this morning? We might return there; there is a pavilion in which you might sleep, which I believe you’ll find very comfortable. It is heated as well, so that you might not be cold while you sleep.”
“Ooh,” Céleste brightened, his energy boosted once again by curiosity, and turned in the air. He followed Laurence’s directions until he came down in the green grounds of Loch Laggan castle. He admired the pavilion very much, letting his tongue out around the gables to smell them. “This is for your companion?” he asked, a little jealously. “It is very nice. He will not mind my using it?”
“No, he will not mind,” Laurence said. “He will be gone for a few days, I think, and I’m sure that he would wish you to be as comfortable as you’re able.” He hadn’t said a word of a lie, but it still felt deceitful, in some way. He would need to speak to Lan Xichen, he thought, about the wisdom of telling Céleste the true circumstances of his arrival. It was difficult for Laurence to judge whether he hadn’t reached his full maturity yet, or if it he was smaller simply because of his limited diet in his growing years, but Laurence judged that the dragon was still quite young, and it would be foolish to assume that he shared Temeraire’s temperament if he didn’t share his upbringing. But he didn’t like hiding the truth from his dragon, whether he were Temeraire or Céleste.
“If you have some rest now, I will bring out a dinner this evening for you. If you want for anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know, and if it is both reasonable and within my power, I will do my best to accommodate you.”
Céleste startled a little at the idea that Mr Laurence would bring food for him, but he supposed it was not much different to the way the smaller dragons on the island liked to bring him tidbits, especially when he had captured a particularly big ship, or one with some especially nice treasure. “That is very kind,” he said, not quite able to hide his surprise. He was not so sure he would be so generous as to share such a nice place, which had clearly been built with great effort and expense. “Thank you.” With only a moment’s hesitation he hopped up the shallow steps and through the great entrance, noting with satisfaction the warmth of the floor under his claws. He curled up with a pleased sound and was asleep almost before he had the chance to wonder why, on a day where everything was so strange and different, there was something about it that felt so very familiar.