VI: White, Black and Grey

‘Grey?’ Granby repeated as he frowned. ‘So her real name is Elleanora Grey?’
‘That is what he called her’, Laurence said as he tried to put the puzzle together.
They were sitting on the dragon deck drinking port. The Resistance swayed softly in the cool, evening breeze; the deck only lit by lanterns as they steadily moved north.
‘She seemed very upset’, Temeraire said timidly; the image of Elleanora being walked back below decks, her execution so close at hand, had left a profound impression. ‘I still do not understand why it is necessary to kill her’, the dragon continued. ‘She did not harm you and she brought back Emily, so she cannot be entirely wicked. Can’t they just lock her up for a long time?’
‘To her that would be more or less the same, I imagine’, Laurence said and he took another sip; the alcohol warmed his body but failed to ease his mind. ‘They knew each other too. Very well, it seemed’, he uttered.
‘Maybe she robbed him once’, Granby said as he leaned back, hands folded behind his head. ‘Maybe he captured her and she escaped.’
But Laurence could not forget the look on Elleanora’s face as she had realised who stood before her. No, he thought, this was not about something as simple as a robbery; this was about something much more.
Keynes appeared on deck. ‘You sent for me?’ he asked; he looked as if he had just woken up.
‘Yes, mister Keynes’, Laurence began with anticipation. ‘You have been in the Corps longer than any of us. Have you ever heard of an aviator called Grey?’
Granby sat up abruptly as he realised what Laurence was implying.
The thought had occurred to him after they had locked Elleanora back in her cell. The fact that she owned an aviator’s coat did not mean anything in itself – she could have stolen it – but now that she apparently was acquainted with the admiral of the Aerial Corps, Laurence could not help but think it was all somehow connected.
Keynes frowned, but not because he was thinking. ‘That is what you called me up here for?’ he asked brusquely. ‘I thought someone was dying or something.’
Granby hid a smile as Laurence replied: ‘No one is dying, mister Keynes. I just need to know if the name Grey rings any bell.’
This time Keynes thought about it. After a minute or so he said: ‘There was an Adelaide Grey in the Corps, but she died about eleven years ago.’
Laurence exchanged an eager look with Granby. ‘Tell us everything you know’, he told the surgeon.
‘Not much to tell really’, Keynes said as he shrugged. ‘She was an aviator, a very good one. Brave, noble; you name it. Then one day it turned out she had been leaking information to the French. Some say she was covering for one of her younger officers, but they never took the trouble to investigate; she was executed not two days later.’
‘Did she have a child?’ Laurence asked tensely. Next to him Granby sat very still.
‘Yes, a matter of fact she did’, Keynes said a bit surprised. ‘Little girl, also in the Corps. Was to take her mother’s place, but after the execution the dragon was sent to the breeding grounds and the girl was assigned to another crew and shipped off to South Africa or something. What became of her I do not know.’
‘Thank you, mister Keynes’, Laurence said after a while, too much involved with his own thoughts to be paying attention to the world around him. ‘Good night.’
‘Very well’, Keynes said, but as he turned around he seemed to remember something. ‘Captain,’ he said as he leaned towards Laurence and Granby confidingly, ‘if you want to know more about Miss Grey or her daughter, you should ask the admiral.’
‘Why is that?’ Laurence inquired as if it was not a big deal, meanwhile feeling the tension in his stomach grow fiercer.
‘Because,’ the surgeon said with a crooked smile, ‘not only were he and Captain Grey pretty close, if you know what I mean: she also got pregnant at the exact same time they were both stationed at Loch Laggan.’

So that was why she had reacted the way she did, Laurence thought as he made his way below decks. Not only was she the daughter of an aviator in the British Aerial Corps, her own father had stood by as her mother was executed when she was just a child, sending her away to the other side of the world in the process.
It was the first time Laurence felt he understood Elleanora a little; her drive to steal from the Aerial Corps, her liking towards Emily, her reaction at seeing Powys – it all came together.
How great she would have been in the Corps, Laurence couldn’t help but think as he ordered the guards to open the door; if she had not turned to the rotten path she had chosen for herself, he would have been proud to fight beside her. Now she was sitting in a damp, dark, nasty cell and would die in less than nine hours.
A waste indeed, Laurence thought bitterly as he entered the room.
‘Come to say goodbye?’ she said without looking up after the guards had left them alone.
‘Yes’, he said, and tried not to pity her; she looked like a once proud bird who had been caged and broken.
‘Must feel good to see justice prevail’, she said, still not facing him.
‘Not really, no.’ He didn’t feel like lying to her. What would be the point?
She looked at him. ‘Did my father send you here?’
‘No’, Laurence said. She was testing him; studying his face for reactions. When she did not find any, she turned away again.
‘I’m sorry I hit you’, she said. ‘Now if you don’t mind: I have some thinking to do. Goodbye.’
There was no point in staying. Laurence said his goodbyes and walked out of the room.
The next time I see her, she will be swaying in the wind, he thought as he climbed into his bunk.
He felt sick.

Running footsteps. Yelling. Laurence opened his eyes. Was he still dreaming?
A loud knock on his door.
Boots. Belt. Buttoning up his shirt.
‘Laurence!’
What time is it?
‘Lau – ’
‘I’m here, I’m here’, he said as he opened the door. ‘What in God’s name is going on?’
‘It’s Elleanora’, Granby said, his shirt partly open, his hair a mess.
‘What is it?’
‘She escaped.’

That was not entirely true. Yes, Elleanora escaped. But she hadn’t gotten very far.
‘She’s down there.’ One of the hands pointed down the hallway that led to the cargo-hold. They ran. Passing crewmembers of the Resistance, through a narrow doorway.
She was still holding a grip on one of her guards, pointing his own gun to his head. Trapp was there, along with a few hands and officers from the Resistance, and Laurence recognized a few of his own men among the crowd around her, all holding a safe distance. Only when he saw Emily standing next to Keynes he wondered what the hell they all did down here. Then he saw the egg. And realized where Elleanora had taken them.
She took a step backwards, dragging the young boy with her. His face was red as he clung to her arm. Trapp made a sudden move, but she was ready for it; she tightened her grip and looked at him daringly.
‘Get back!’, Laurence ordered and stepped into the light of the lantern. ‘Everyone just get back!’
All eyes on him, including hers. He could see she knew it was over; escaping had been an act of desperation, not reason.
‘Elleanora, drop your weapon’, Laurence said as calmly as he could. ‘Let him go.’
She shook her head. Her face was sweaty; or were those tears?
‘He has nothing to do with this, Elly, he was just doing his job.’ She flinched when he said her name like that, but quickly steadied herself. Instead of easing her grip, she took another step backwards, towards the egg, which lay covered in cloths in front of a small stove to keep it warm.
‘She is going for it again’, Granby hissed behind him, but he did not have to tell Laurence.
‘Elly,’ he said again, more desperately, ‘I know you want to get out of here, but this is not the way. That egg is almost hatching.’ She didn’t seem to give a damn, but Laurence persisted. ‘You must know what all this stress does to a dragonet. You must remember. And I know you don’t want to hurt that dragon. Just – ’
Admiral Powys stepped into the room, accompanied by a broad shouldered man with long black hair; Bartholomew Bristow, captain of the Resistance.
‘Shoot her!’, Powys ordered immediately.
‘We cannot get a clear shot, sir’, Trapp answered before Laurence could respond.
‘Then shoot them both!’, Powys barked back.
‘That is one of my men, admiral’, Bristow said annoyed as he tied his hair back. He had an air of calm in his voice that stood out; he sounded as if he did not give a damn what would happen next, but Laurence could see he was calculating the situation carefully as he looked around the room.
‘Miss Grey’, Bristow suddenly said as he stepped forward, daringly closer than anybody else. ‘My name is Bartholomew Bristow; this is my ship. And, as stated just now, that is one of my men you are holding there. I would appreciate it sincerely if you would let him go; we both know this is a lost cause.’
She laughed; as if asking her nicely would make her give up her life. ‘I will not die on my knees’, she said, suddenly fierce.
‘As I understand you will be hanged, so pray do not worry about that’, Bristow said with a faint smile.
‘Charming’, she replied.
‘Well, I have my ways, isn’t that right, admiral?’, Bristow said as he looked towards Powys, who stood by in surprise. As he did so, Elleanora automatically followed his gaze.
It was exactly what Bristow had been hoping for; he darted forward and struck her right in the face. She was forced back by the power of the blow, blood gushing from her nose as she fell backwards.
Laurence subconsciously stepped back at the unexpected attack, and he wasn’t the only one; Emily shrieked and was held back by Keynes as Trapp threw himself on Elleanora and grabbed her by the hair. He forced her on her knees and violently smashed her head on a barrel standing near the egg. Pushing her head down, he twisted her arm around her back; she had no place to go.
‘Elly!’, Emily yelled in horror. Bristow turned around in surprise.
‘Mister Keynes’, Laurence stepped in quickly. ‘Be so kind as to keep my runner quiet.’
‘Your runner?’, Bristow repeated as he eyed Emily suspiciously. Laurence quickly got in front of her.
‘That was quite a stunt you pulled there’, he said, ignoring Bristow’s remark; he hoped that this not so subtle change of subject would at least diverge the attention from the fact that his runner was a girl.
‘Sometimes you have to take a risk’, Bristow said as he rubbed his knuckles; even though he had apparently struck Elleanora so hard his own fist was aching, he seemed content. ‘Just keep her down’, he ordered Trapp.
Trapp was doing a pretty good job already; every time Elleanora moved he just twisted her arm back a little more, almost to the point of breaking it. She cried out faintly as he jammed his knee in her back to keep her down.
Laurence was just about to suggest a more diplomatic approach, when Keynes behind him gasped for breath and grabbed his arm. Laurence turned to face his shocked expression, and followed his gaze.
The egg moved. The bottom half was still covered in cloths, but the top half had been made visible as a result of the movements.
Its colors were brighter than ever.
‘Damn it!’, Laurence cursed softly. ‘I thought we still had time.’
‘We did’, Keynes answered, his face pale. ‘It shouldn’t hatch for another two weeks – at least.’
They walked over to the egg, passing an agitated Powys and a calm Bristow giving orders.
Keynes lay his hand upon the smooth surface. ‘Dear God…’, he whispered.
‘What?’, Laurence asked anxiously. ‘What is it?’
‘It is hatching’, Keynes just said.
Laurence tried to calm himself. This reminded him a bit too much of Temeraire’s hatching; being stuck at open sea with a hatchling but no matching candidate to harness it.
‘All right’, he said, thinking quickly. ‘Then we need to gather possible candidates for the harnessing.’
Keynes raised and looked at him tensely. ‘I am afraid there is no time.’
And at the exact moment Keynes spoke the words, the first piece of shell came bursting off. The cracking sound of the breaking egg brought down a silence upon the scene, everyone only now realizing what was going on.
‘No!’, Powys exclaimed when he realized what was about to happen, many miles off the coast of Bermuda.
Another crack, tiny claws bursting through the shell. Then a little head popped out.
It was so small, but Laurence was immediately impressed by its beauty. Colored in the same shades of pink and red as the egg had been many times, it had a bony stump of horn above its nose.
The eyes were however what made everybody present stare in awe: two huge, nightly black mirrors staring into the world for the first time. Then it tried to climb out of its shell, and fell down hard upon the wooden floor.
Laurence instinctively took a step forward to make sure it was all right, but Granby, who had come to stand beside him, held him back.
The dragonet steadied itself quickly, standing on all fours and for the first time unfolding its wings.
God, they are huge, Laurence thought as he subconsciously held his breath at the sight of the dragonet looking at its own wingspan. It tried to move them, only partly succeeded, and folded them neatly against its body. Then it looked around.
It eyed the humans with great curiosity, and turned its flexible head this way and that to look at them all. When it saw Trapp holding down Elleanora it took a few tiny steps forward.
It looked at Elleanora for a second, but seemed to loose interest and turned its attention to the man holding her down, standing absolutely still on its haunches apart from blinking its big black eyes in consideration.
Trapp held his breath and nervously wetted his lips; the dragonet looked straight at him and then tilted its head a little to the side as if it was about to speak. Already one of the hands was moving slowly forward holding an improvised harness out for Trapp to take over; Laurence could see him breathe heavily with anticipation and excitement. He could almost hear the man think: this is it, this is it…
‘Why is that man hurting you?’ the dragonet asked in a high and clear voice as she looked at Elleanora’s bloody face, blinking her innocent eyes as if she did not understand what was going on.
It was as if every man present gasped in horror. Trapp even made a little squeaking noise from the back of his throat as he saw his dreams fall to pieces, but despite his shock he did not forget his duty; he tightened his grip on Elleanora, making her gasp in pain, in an attempt to shut her up. They all knew that if she spoke, they would have even bigger problems on their hands.
‘Stop it!’ the dragonet said in a frightened manner and she looked a bit panicked from Elleanora to Trapp. ‘You are hurting her!’
But Trapp didn’t stop; if anything, he twisted Elleanora’s arm even more. It was bent in such an awkward way Laurence expected it to snap at any moment.
‘STOP IT!’ the dragonet suddenly screamed, but it was not her voice that put volume to her words; it was the fact that in the blink of an eye she turned from red and pink to bright red and orange. It was such a quick, vast change Trapp unwillingly let go of Elleanora and stumbled back.
Elleanora immediately fell to the ground, clutching her arm. She sat back against the barrel and was breathing heavily, tears unwillingly making clears strokes on her bloody cheeks.
As quickly as she had changed her colours, the dragonet changed back. She did not even look at Trapp or anybody else when she approached Elleanora, putting her front claws carefully on her leg in concern.
‘Are you all right? Would you like me to hurt him?’ she asked as she looked at her claws. ‘I think I could, you know.’
Elleanora opened her eyes and looked at the little dragon in front of her. Laurence knew everybody in the room was in their minds urging her not to speak, even though they at the same time knew it was too late; the dragonet had clearly made her choice, and no silence in the world would change it now.
‘Thank you’, Elleanora whispered, a faint smile appearing on her bruised and battered face. ‘But you shouldn’t bother.’
‘I truly do not mind’, the dragonet answered, in higher spirits now that the girl had spoken to her. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
Elleanora laughed; her teeth looked very white in contrast to the blood. ‘I am sure it would be’, she said, and then her smile faded away. ‘But I am not right for you, little one.’
The dragonet blinked. ‘Why not?’, it asked in a small voice.
‘Because,’ Elleanora answered as she straightened herself a little, still holding her arm, ‘I am a liar and a thief, and by nine bells tomorrow I will be dead as well.’
‘No you won’t’, said the dragonet.
‘Yes, I will’, Elleanora persisted kindly. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot stay with you.’
‘But – ’, the dragonet began, only to be interrupted by Elleanora.
‘No. I am very, very sorry, little one, but I am afraid you have to pick someone else to stay with you. How about,’ Elleanora quickly said as she saw the panicked look on the dragonet’s face, ‘how about that man standing over there?’
She pointed at Granby. ‘He is a good man, and I am sure he would love to have his own dragon. You will like him very much, I promise.’
The dragonet turned and looked at Granby, who tensed and straightened himself nervously under her surveying look.
‘Yes, I do like him’, she said, and Granby wasn’t the only one who seemed relieved. ‘But not nearly as much as I like you’, she however added.
‘Get her out of here!’, Powys hissed at his men. ‘I want her out!’
Trapp pushed forward carefully, maybe expecting an attack from the dragonet, but to everyone’s surprise Elleanora raised herself with a painful face and turned her words to the dragonet.
‘I truly am very sorry, my dear’, she said sincerely. ‘Pick someone else, so you won’t get lonely.’
Trapp grabbed her arm, but didn’t dare hurting her in the presence of the hatchling. He didn’t have to though; Elleanora voluntarily walked with him, even when another guard grabbed her painful arm harshly. Laurence could almost feel their anger; he knew they only held back, and would drop the act as soon as they would be alone with her.
Judged by the look on Elleanora’s face before they led her out of the room, she knew it too.
As soon as the door closed behind them, all eyes turned to the dragonet again. She flinched, her curiosity for the world around her gone, and looked very scared and lonely in the room full of strangers.
Granby stepped forward. ‘It is all right’, he said in a calming manner. ‘You must be hungry.’
She looked at him blandly. Blinked her watery eyes. Then she turned around, walked back to the place where she was born and curled herself up in the cloths that had once held her egg, hiding her face from the world.
‘This is not good’, Keynes said next to Laurence. ‘This is not good at all.’
And he was right.