Big Bang Fic: Fuel to Fire, Chapter 4

[narniabb_mod]

Title: Fuel To Fire
Author: snitchnipped
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Part of Four of the Dichotomy Universe. Familiarity with Dichotomy, Splintered, and Hail to the Days is highly encouraged. All can be found on my ff.net directory.
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Implied Adult Situations, Violence
Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to my betas wingedflight21, lady_songsmith, and rthstewart for all the encouragement and hand-holding. My hope is that there is a little something in it for everyone. Whatever you get out of it, I want to thank you for taking the time for reading this monster. I hope you enjoy it.
Summary: “All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope.” — Winston Churchill



FUEL TO FIRE—CHAPTER FOUR
“Women and elephants never forget an injury.” — H. H. Munro

::x:x:x::
The Royal Stables, Cair Paravel, Narnia. Secondweek, September, 1010.
Lucy, Day 18.

And so we go through vale, up hill,

Right past the wolves’ patrol.

And we will not stop singing ’til

The land of good King Col!




Lucy had dropped her reins and started clapping enthusiastically before Durah had even finished the final note. “That’s wonderful, Durah! What a lovely voice you have!”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Durah said. “My mother taught me that when I was young, before she died,” she sadly added. “It was a song her mother sang on her exile from Narnia. You know, after the Tree died.”

Lucy reached over and gave Durah a gentle pat. “You must miss your mother very much.”

Durah nodded. “I do. I was her only calf, and she had me rather late in life. My aunts raised me as one of their own, though. I did not want for any brothers and sisters,” Durah said. Though the Elephant’s said it in fondness, Lucy could detect a hint of irritation behind the words. Lucy could certainly sympathize.

At times.

Lucy had to urge her horse faster to keep up with the Elephant. After a few days of being cooped up inside from the rain, it was nice to be able to again explore the outdoors. They were currently riding alongside the edge of the forest, with the soft, wet pine needles underfoot muffling their steps. It was a beautiful crisp day, and the sun was peeking around a few leftover, lazy clouds.

“Do you know any other songs?”

They passed a small puddle of mud, and Durah gazed at it longingly. “Several, all from the exile, too. I can understand why they sang back then. It’s quite the long journey between there and here.”

“That it is, my friend,” Lucy said, her thoughts briefly drifting to her brother and sister. At last Bird, they both had only covered two provinces and had yet to find the Elephants.

“Baz liked it when I sang,” Durah continued. “Or, at least, he said he did. He never joined in, though.”

“Maybe he couldn’t,” Lucy offered. Edmund had once teased that she couldn’t sing her way out of an open barrel, so she could sympathize with the man if he had to travel with such a lovely singer as Durah was. But that reminded her….

It’s been over two weeks…has Bazner checked in with Peter yet?

“That’s how they found me, though. I was watching the elephants one day, and they caught me singing aloud,” Durah said, a keen eye on a bigger puddle they were approaching. “We struck up a conversation.”

Lucy found that her horse was trailing again. She nudged it in his side to catch up so she could see Durah’s face. “They? What do you mean ‘they’?"

“Bazner and his brother. They were traveling together, having come from the West, or…er, somewhere, I’m not sure. I know they’re not Archenlanders. We struck up a conversation and we talked about Narnia and how I wanted to return. And Baz said he wanted to travel up here, too. I met with them a few times before Bazner and I left.”

They were quickly approaching the stables, and none too soon in Lucy’s books. This news put a whole new turn on things. “What happened to his brother?”

Durah reached up with her trunk and scratched at her side where a pine bough had just brushed her. “I’m not sure. I didn’t know him very well, but he did like to sit and watch the lesser herd with me. He didn’t say much. I mainly talked with Bazner.”

Not only has Bazner possibly not completed the colonist two week check, but he also has a brother. Lucy did not know quite what either meant in the grand scheme of things, but she did know that it was important for both Edmund and Susan to know that there was another Telmarine out there, one who was in on the Elephants’ secret. I wonder if he’s told anyone….

It was best to be on the safe side. She was going to send a letter to Edmund right away, and he could decide what to do with the information on his end.

Unfortunately, Lucy knew that the Rooksturret currently did not have a Bird to spare. She had idly thought of sending on a casual note to Susan this morning. But after checking with the Rookswarden, she learned that it would have to wait until a Bird had returned. Lucy did not mind, for the Ravens and Peter’s Hawk had much more important business to attend to than a chatty letter with her sister. But now I have important business, too.

When they got to the stables, she bid Durah a good afternoon, allowing her friend to wander off to give a second look at some of the mud puddles. Lucy quickly dismounted, and after a quick hug around the horse’s neck, handed him over to a waiting groom. She looked around the stables—up in the rafters, the tops of the horse stalls, and the open windows. There we go.

“You over there!” Lucy called to a Seagull perched on one of the sills. “What is your name, friend?”

The Gull stood up and hopped from webbed foot to webbed foot. “Beaknocker, your Majesty.”

She thought it a strange name, but had learned long ago that it was sometimes rude to ask the meanings behind the names of some Narnians. “Will you be willing to deliver an urgent letter for me? I’m afraid it will be far.”

“Yes! Yes, with honor, your Majesty!” Beaknocker said. “I have never had the privilege of being a Royal Messenger! Shall I meet with the Rookswarden? Is there some sort of initiation I must complete?”

Lucy shook her head, hoping that she was not going to regret this. “No, friend. Just meet me in the Queens’ Study, ready to leave within the hour.”

::x:x:x::
“He [the elephant] learns to remember such melodies as can only be remembered by people acquainted with music….” — Abu al-Fazi ibn Mubarak
::x:x:x:x:x:x:x::
Elephant Valley, Darden, Archenland. Secondweek, September, 1010.
Edmund, Day 19.

“But what about in Anvard? How many lords were you able to tick off your list there?” Edmund asked his sister.
“Plenty of them,” Susan said, wearily. “And ruse or no, none of them were promising.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

Susan continued to ride quietly without answering. He and Susan rode side by side while up ahead, Baris was catching Ferrin and Peridan up on Susan’s journey—the occasional laughter broke through the quiet morning as Ferrin or Peridan slipped in a comment or two. His sister ignored the banter from ahead and made for a grab at the feathery top of one of the tall stalks of golden grasses they were riding through. Her attempt to snap the head off was foiled by the strength of the stem, and it instead brushed through her fingers as her horse continued forward.

“Isn’t it, Su?” Edmund urged. “A relief?”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “Of a sort.”

Edmund mouth twitched into a slight frown, but he didn’t press on the matter.

Once the pomp and circumstance of a visiting Narnian Royal had wound down in Esting, Edmund and his company were able to eventually rendezvous outside of town with the official Royal Narnian Camp, which had being organized by Turvalin while Susan made her way into town. With the idea of preceding her, any suspicion of Edmund and his company being connected with the Narnians would be minimal. Of course, before they left, they had to make the show of being in awe of real, genuine Narnian Royalty amongst the folk of the town. Edmund thought he did pretty well, admiring her beauty with some of the kind middle-aged men at the Orange Thorn Inn. Ferrin went a bit overboard with his vocal opinions on the Queen, but that was to be expected.

Susan had stayed in Esting that night and the following day as was proper, and left only “to visit Lord Dar.” It was safe to assume that no one thought much of it, what with the general consensus of the town being that they cared not of the business of Lord Dar, nor Lord Dar of the town. She had joined them at the Royal Camp late the previous evening, with only enough time to brief her of their plans for meeting with the Herd in the morning. With no more than a yawn and a nod of acknowledgement, she had retreated to the tent Turvalin had painstakingly readied for her comfort.

Only now were they able to catch up with the specific details of their journeys as they rode in the golden glow of the morning fog and the early autumn sun. It was the time when the day was deciding whether to warm up or stay balmy and cool. To the east, there was a straight line of trees that were a only a dark blur. The caws of dumb crows called out from several different directions, hidden somewhere in the soupy hedgerow. Milletpeck’s head cocked briefly, listening intently, seated on the rump of Peridan’s mount.

Edmund looked expectantly at the Jackdaw.

“Nothing but idle chatter and morning gossip,” she reassured. “No one is tracking us.”

Edmund let go of the breath he had not realized he was holding. Once they got back on the road with Susan, his alertness and the seriousness of the situation returned. Even without riding under the Narnian flag, he felt that they were potentially open targets in these untamed areas of Archenland. Edmund lifted his gaze up to where a patch of fog was slowly dissipating and was relieved at what he saw. The Birds were busy flying their patterns in a mile-wide diameter, making sure they were not being tracked.

“And you?” Susan suddenly called to the group. “What sort of trouble did you lot find yourselves in this time?”

Edmund held back a groan. He knew that Susan had stayed at the very Inn that they had, and he only hoped their shenanigans had not somehow reached her delicate ears. She always finds out anyways.

Baris turned around from between Ferrin and Baris, step-hopping backward in order to face Edmund directly. “I’m sure you all found some time to relax and enjoy yourself after the hard work you were putting in,” he said, a wide grin on his face. “And if that was the case…what did you think of the blue lasaia?”

Ferrin turned in his seat and laughed, the sound swallowed by the fog around them. Peridan’s focused stayed to the front, but he shook his head in dismay nonetheless. Edmund, in turn, felt the heat rise to his cheeks, prompting Susan to cock an eyebrow over at him. “Did you end up partaking, Ed?”

“I did.” His mouth was going as dry as it was that ill-fated night.

“And was it all that you were expecting? I only sent along the purest of the pure,” Baris proudly.

Edmund’s light laughter had a nervous tinge to it. “I had no expectation for it was thrust on me out of nowhere, Baris. I succumbed to the pressure of my peers. And in all honesty, I don’t know what I think about it. Because I don’t remember much at all.”

“It certainly was the strongest leaf I’ve had the honor of smoking,” Ferrin tossed over his shoulder. “Where did you get it, Baris?”

Baris turned to walk forward again, looking up at Ferrin suspiciously. “What do you mean it was strong? I said it was pure, but it shouldn’t have done more than…are you saying you all smoked it straight?”

“Of course we smoked it straight,” Ferrin snorted.

“I knew not to smoke at all,” Peridan added.

Baris looked up at Ferrin in disbelief, then back at Edmund. His ears fell back on his head. “You didn’t dilute it? Cut it with anything?”

“Were we supposed to?” Edmund asked him, frowning. “And with what exactly?”

Ferrin shrugged. “I didn’t, and I was fine.”

“Yes, well, you’re a madman,” Peridan shot over at him. “And Edmund only got mildly delusional, at which point I carried him to his room.”

“I may not have been completely all there, but I know you did not carry me, Peridan.”

“Well, this is promising,” Susan interjected. Edmund was not liking her sarcastic, biting tone, even if they did deserve it. “Have any of you accomplished anything besides making yourself look like fools?”

“Now, that’s not fair, your Majesty, we’ve accomplished a lot. Peridan’s learned to juggle for one,” Ferrin smartly said.

“Oh, honestly,” Susan scoffed.

Edmund laughed and was relieved that the attention was off him. At least it was for the moment.

“You could not be more wrong,” Peridan said. “I’ve been able to do that since I was a small boy.”

“But you said that last night in Esting that it was the first time you had ever juggled!” Edmund said. It had certainly been one of the more entertaining evenings he had spent with his friends…good food, flowing liquor, pretty girls. And then there was the juggling. All around good fun. He still believed it was well deserved after their meeting with that first Telmarine.

“It was! Of a sort. I learned how to juggle four oranges that night. Before, I could only manage three figs.”

Edmund saw that even Susan had to fight back a smile on that one.

“I acquired that brunette to show you a good time,” Ferrin said. “And not just to teach you cheap party tricks for our entertainment.”

“And I assure you, Ferrin, she taught me more than that—I did master the art of juggling. Of two very ripened fruits in particular. For my entertainment,” Peridan cracked, to which Ferrin and Baris both broke into hysterical laughter. But then Peridan abruptly stiffened in his seat and his head whipped around, revealing his paled face. “Queen Susan, please forgive my crudeness.”

Susan seemed to be a brick about it, though, and Edmund watched her offer Peridan a mild smile and slight nod of forgiveness. Peridan averted his gaze and turned back around in his seat.

Edmund chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Peridan got off easy. He knew very well that Susan would not have been as lenient had it been Ferrin to say such things around her. Not that Edmund would have minded, though—he was always amused by Ferrin and Susan’s incessant bickering. Still, there were some things that should not be discussed around one’s sister.

“And did you indulge, as well, Edmund? Please tell me you employed your gift from Peter.”

Edmund found himself sputtering in disbelief at his sister’s quiet inquiry. There were certain things that should not be discussed with one’s sister, too. “How in Tash’s name do you know about that?” he demanded.

Susan just tsked. “Really, Edmund, I’m not daft. It was under my insistence, after all. I knew you would never listen to me on the subject.” She brushed away bits of golden grass from her riding skirt. “And trust me, I regret not having this very talk with Peter. I wasn’t about to make the mistake a second time.”

Edmund groaned and tried to wipe the memory of the panic of his lost skin from his mind. Of course, that only left room for the preceding, fuzzy memories of the lively, adventurous, sweet—sweet—Tarna, and he felt certain stirrings betraying him.

And then he started to feel guilty. Really guilty. It was true, he and his friends perhaps had indulged a little too much on this venture, even if in the long run they got the information they needed. By happy accident. And though they were currently on the way to hopefully set things right, there was the new worrisome information from the Telmarine about the possible interest from some Calormenes in there area….

“Your freckles are sticking out.”

Edmund looked up at her and self-consciously rubbed at his nose. He knew what she was trying to do. “You’re one to talk, you know.”

Susan grinned, and turned to look towards their destination, shielding her eyes with her own freckled hand against the mid-morning sun that had just emerged through the fog.

The morning passed without much incident, save for a stray hare being disturbed from its nest. It raced between Baris’ hooves and those of Peridan and Ferrin’s mounts in a desperate rush to not get trampled, causing Peridan’s horse to be rather spooked the rest of the journey. The fog completely burned away and the day decided to be warmer, with the light breeze rustling the long, golden grasses that led to the valley between the peaks of two hills—the very valley that Rovaper had said would lead them directly to the Elephants.

Soon, it became clear that Rovaper knew what he was talking about.

“Wow,” Baris breathed. Edmund had nothing to add to that. Neither did anyone else.

Susan and Edmund rode up next to the others. Before them lay a vast field of a sea of green and golden grasses that stretched for miles. The scene was interrupted occasionally by dark green trees spotting the landscape here and there, and glittering pools of lakes that were fed from the streams rushing down from the southern mountains of Nelden. A warm breeze rushed from the valley with the sweet smell of the grasses, ruffling some of Edmund’s hair into his eyes.

Once he pushed the obtrusive locks away, he saw them. Some perspective may have been lost from their distance, but the smattering of distant speckles that indicated that the valley was full of very large beasts—and Beasts. They had found the Elephants.

“Milletpeck,” Edmund called, having to break his attention away from the sight. “Find the leader and announce us, please. She goes by the title of Grandmare.”

The Bird’s wings were already stretched out as she gave her nod in response, and she quickly took flight. The company watched the dark shape fade into the distance, fighting unseen but strong gusts of wind.

“There’s so many of them,” Susan mused, her awed voice barely heard over the rustling of the grasses.

Edmund did a quick count. “They can’t all be Narnian Elephants, though. Durah never mentioned that many of them. At least, not by name.”

“Would even half a dozen of them fit, though? Back home, I mean,” Baris said.

“I’m sure they could make the room by themselves,” Peridan added.

“This is perfect for a vineyard.”

Edmund shook his head in disgust at Ferrin and nudged his horse forward when he saw Milletpeck returning. In the distance, he saw a half dozen of the closest Beasts, all of various sizes, slowly head in their direction.

Milletpeck landed on the skeleton of a sun-bleached and spindly tree branch. “The Grandmare Zanta has approved a meeting, sire. She is most eager to meet the Queen Susan of Narnia.”

“Thank you, Millet,” Edmund said. “If you would please continue keeping watch of the area, we would be most grateful,” he added, watching her as she flew up to join the other Birds.

Susan smoothed her dark hair with one hand, and pulling the ends to the crook of her neck to protect from the breeze. “Shall we then?”

Without another word between them, the Narnians slowly rode down the slope towards the awaiting party. As they got closer, Edmund could see the waiting Elephants were of different size. At the forefront stood two very large, very still Beasts, while the smaller ones, ranging in size from his horse to that of Stor, the Cair’s Bear cook, all eagerly circled around a lone tree standing starkly in a separate clearing about a two dozen yards away. To Edmund’s surprise, though, an even smaller Calf peeked shyly from behind the thick back legs of the leader, before quickly retreating back, a cloud of dust from the rocky soil puffing up in her wake.

Susan stopped her horse a dozen feet before the Beasts and quickly slid down from her saddle, while the rest of them completed a semi-circle around her, Edmund taking the end closest to the youngsters by the tree before dismounting. This was Susan’s show, according to Durah, and he was more than happy for her to take the lead.

“We knew you were coming this morning,” Zanta said without preamble, her voice as warm and sweet as the air swirling around them.

Susan tried to mask her startled reaction to the abruptness of the Grandmare’s statement. “What? How is that so? Has word reached you that we are here?”

Zanta twitched an ear in dismissal. “We heard you coming. And you did not sound hostile.”

Well, that’s a comfort, Edmund thought.

Another moment passed with the Narnian party not knowing exactly how to proceed after such an introduction. Susan started to open her mouth in greeting, but Zanta beat her to it. “But welcome, your Majesty! It is quite the honor that you have graced us with your presence, Queen Susan. It has been a long time since our kind have met with a Narnian Royal.”

Susan blinked once before breaking out into a wide smile. “Thank you, Grandmare Zanta. And may I introduce my esteemed brother, King Edmund the Just.”

Zanta turned her massive head towards him. “Hello,” she said cheerfully with a half-hearted wave of her trunk. She abruptly turned back to Susan. “We have heard many great things about your Majesty.”

Edmund’s ego felt a little put out. “Why am I even here?” Edmund muttered to Ferrin and got a snicker in response. Then he remembered the large ears of the present company and wondered if he spoke too loud. Thankfully, both Zanta and Susan ignored his little comment.

Quick introductions were made between the two parties, though Zanta and her sister Hasina, the other adult Elephant, merely introduced the smaller ones playing around the tree as simply “our sons, daughters, nieces and nephews.” The young Calves seemed to ignore them, having more interest in the tree they were surrounding, though they were momentarily amused by Baris when he hooked his pinky fingers around his horns and stuck his tongue out at them.

“I have met your brother,” Zanta added. “The other one.”

Susan raised an eyebrow. “You mean King Peter.”

“The High King of Narnia,” Baris prompted, leaning forward in expectation for some sort of recognition of Peter’s status.

“Yes, that’s the one,” Zanta said nonchalantly. “I saw him while he was visiting with Lune a few years back.”

“King Lune.”

“That will be all, Baris,” Susan quietly chastised through her smile. Baris stomped a hoof into the ground, but just once.

“Yes, of course, King Lune. He has spoken very highly of you, your Majesty. You do have beautiful hair, though it’s not quite as long as expected.”

Edmund saw Susan shift uncomfortably. I thought that business was dead and buried.

“He is most kind, Zanta, as are you. Is this your full Herd then?” she gracefully changed the subject and gestured towards the grazing elephants in the distance.

“Yes and no,” she answered. “Some are my herd, but some are my Herd,” she said. While Edmund tried to make heads or tails over what that meant, Zanta poked her trunk at the smallest Elephant who had come out from behind her and was unsuccessfully trying to walk underneath her girth. “You have gotten too big, Paka, stop doing that!”

The young Elephant didn’t answer and instead trotted over to join a few other youngsters currently trying to reach up for the fruit on the tree. Upon a closer look, Edmund was able to discern what kind of dark fruits were dangling amongst the wide leaves. Figs. Of course, the other major fruit export of Archenland. A favorite of the Elephants. He silently thanked the Lion that it wasn’t an orange tree. The young Calves seemed very excited by the treats, though, with much laughing and toppling over as some of the shorter ones tried going up on their rear feet to reach the bottommost branches.

“You’ll have to forgive their behavior, your Majesty, I rarely allow them up here for this very reason. But it is a special occasion, is it not?”

“Yes it is,” Susan said. “And we would like to make it all the more so with an invitation.”

“Oh?”

But Edmund thought the Grandmare did not seem surprised. He exchanged a quick glance with Susan before his sister continued. “Yes, as you may know, one of your kind travelled quite the distance with a plea.”

“That would be Durah. My niece.” The Grandmare’s tone was not one of complete endearment, and Hasina looked worriedly at her sister. Zanta sighed, causing the tawny fur on Baris’ chest to ruffle. “It is comforting to know that she arrived safely. We all worried for her,” she said, and Hasina nodded in affirmation.

“That she did, and she was most insistent that we travel to you to urge you to follow in her steps,” Susan added. When neither Zanta nor Hasina responded, Susan straightened and raised her voice so as to be heard over the sudden series of gusts. “On behalf of Narnia, we offer you a formal invitation to return to your ancestral home.”

“Narnia?” Susan’s voice must have been carried with the wind, for the excited question came from one of the Calves by the tree. Another young Elephant dropped a fig in surprise, and they all slowly turned ,and for the first time, seemed to fully acknowledge their presence. “Are we going to Narnia?”

Zanta ignored their questions, and respectfully did the same curious trunk-bow that Edmund saw Durah do once. “I thank you, your Majesty, for your troubles in traveling so far with a very generous offer, but I’m afraid we will have to decline.”

Of course, it was the answer they were expecting. Still, it didn’t sit well with Edmund…he didn’t travel this far to give up quite so easily. “But Grandmare Zanta, Durah has detailed the risks you face in staying here,” he said.

Zanta emitted a short snort through her trunk, causing all the Calves by the tree to look their way “Kito, Mosi!” Zanta called loudly—very loudly, Edmund thought, but he supposed one must have a loud voice if you were constantly around such wind—and the two largest Calves strode over to the Grandmare’s side. “Take the little ones and return back to the Valley, please.”

There were squeaks and trumpets of protests from those still by the tree, but they dutifully followed in their minder’s steps and slowly made their way down the slope on the well worn-trail through the grasses.

“Yes, we are aware of the risks,” Hasina quietly said once the young ones were far enough away. “But we have an obligation here, to protect the others.”

“What others?” Ferrin asked, apparently getting the nerve to finally address the large Beasts.

“The lesser herd,” Zanta said, her trunk pointing in the distance to the larger group of elephants, several hundred yards away from what Edmund assumed were the rest of her immediate family. Even from that far, Edmund could tell that they were much larger in size than the biggest of Zanta’s Herd. “The dumb elephants. Without us, I believe they would be more at risk to the Calormenes, and I cannot in good conscious leave them that vulnerable.”

Edmund was surprised that Zanta had cut right to the matter of the Calormenes. He expected to skirt around the issue for awhile before addressing the issue. After all, the only other previous experience he had negotiating with an Elephant was with Durah. And that had taken a ridiculously long time.

“But they are quite strong and powerful, too, even if they are mute,” Susan said.

“And intelligent. I’m not denying that, your Majesty,” Zanta said. “But I have heard the Calormenes, and I have heard them speak of their weapons. I do not know how many have been taken, for we are not currently in contact with the other Herds protecting the lesser ones. Or the Bulls. But we fear what their true purpose is.”

Other Herds? There are more? Edmund thought. Peridan quickly looked at him questioningly from the other end of their line. He apparently was thinking the same thing. How will they all fit, indeed.

Zanta continued. “If I stay here—if we stay here, my entire family of my Greater Herd—we can at least monitor the situation. We can even report to Lune as needed on our annual visit.”

Edmund thought back to weeks ago, in the Queens’ Study when he was going over options with his sisters. “The Great Debate”, just as Durah had said. It was time to make the decision. “How much does King Lune know?” he asked. “Have you asked him for help?”

The Grandmare’s large ears flapped back on her head. “Lune has honored our wishes of being self-governing. We tell him as much as we are comfortable telling him.” She relaxed a bit, and her ears once again drooped forward. “We do not want to expose our kind to all of Archenland. Not yet. It is my decision, but I know the other Greater Herds agree. And no, we have not told him of our concern with the Calormenes.”

Edmund looked over at Susan and found her slowly nodding. Though they didn’t say anything, he knew they were in agreement—the official Narnian recommendation would be to remain hidden. The scope of everything did not hit them until they had seen the elephants and Elephants first hand. These beasts were a force to be reckoned with, with a strength in power and in numbers. Easily exploitable, as Lune had thought, too, from what Susan shared of her time in Anvard.

And Edmund trusted Susan’s opinion, and from all that he had learned about the current state of Archenland and its reigning Lords, he knew that for the Elephants to officially come out of hiding would be too risky. The Herds and herds were already on such shaky grounds being in the provinces of such ineffectual lords such as Dar and Darrin. Even if their hands-off approach is currently to Zanta and her kind’s benefit in terms of self-governance. But Edmund knew that the political landscapes within Archenland could change at any given moment. Take Lord Bar for instance.

Susan’s posture slumped slightly as she looked out over the fields of gracing Herds and herds. “How many have gone missing, Grandmare Zanta?” she asked, sadness creeping into her voice.

The Elephant’s trunk hung low. “I am not certain. None of my own Greater Herd is taken, but two of the lesser are definitely gone. Since it is not many, so I believe we can manage the situation as it stands.”

“Durah seemed to know of more that are missing,” Edmund countered.

“Durah is very fanciful and adventurous, as most youth are,” Zanta offered as explanation. “She heard the tales and learned the stories passed down from her mother and her grandmother of our original home in Narnia and the exodus to Archenland. She had always dreamed of Narnia, had always longed to travel there, and this has given her excuse. Unfortunately, her actions have influenced those younger than her, and I fear for their safety were they ever to follow in her footsteps.”

“But how do you even know?” Edmund asked. This was starting to get just as exasperating as that hot day in the throne room. Zanta was certainly proving to be a better talker, but he was starting to believe that all Elephants had a hard time of actually communicating. “You said yourself that you have not been in contact with the other Greater Herds.”

Zanta did not have an immediate answer to that. Susan stepped closer to the Beast. “Grandmare Zanta, I will ask again. We can offer safety, amnesty even. Narnia is safe.”

“But can you offer the wide open spaces or the climate that is here?” Hasina asked. Edmund detected a hint of hope in her voice.

“Exactly, Hasina. Please believe me, Your Majesty…your Majesties,” she corrected as she also turned to Edmund to include him. “I am not immune to the tales of Narnia ‘ere the Tree died either. My mother was born in Narnia, after all. And I fully trust the rumors of a new Golden Age in Narnia having begun. But we have grown accustomed to being here, and the food and land has served us well.”

Golden Age? Edmund had to keep himself from snorting. An exaggeration, at best. But he could not argue with her point. Though he personally felt most at home on Narnian soil and the beauties the country offered, there was a certain beauty of the golden fields that he had observed on their ride here. And it was more suited of beasts of their size and numbers.

“This is our home,” Zanta finished simply.

“But you are Original Narnians, all of you,” Susan stated.

By the Lion, Su can be tenacious.

“And so we are not Archenlanders? We are proud of our Valley here,” Zanta said with a wave of her trunk. “Lune and his predecessors have graciously given us freedom here.”

“Which others are trying to take that away,” Baris added.

Zanta’s head dipped slightly, and her voice dropped in volume and intensity. “I assure you, I am only too aware that I have not done my best at protecting them.”

Baris’ own ears went back. “I’m sorry, Grandmare. I meant no offense.”

“You still have our protection, that I assure you,” Susan insisted. Edmund was briefly reminded of the exchange with the Rovaper at the Orange Thorn when he insisted on maintaining the Elephants’ protection. “Though you may not be in Narnia proper,” Susan said, “it does not mean that we don’t feel responsible for you. We really only mean to help.”

“That is much appreciated, your Majesty,” Hasina said. “But what can you do?”

“Yes, indeed. What is there to do,” Zanta added, though it wasn’t a question.

A silence fell over the group even as gust of wind grew stronger, causing Susan’s skirts to whip around her. When Edmund’s horse started shaking his head when its mane got in its eyes, Edmund turned his horse slightly to the south to face the oncoming breezes. He jokingly thought to himself that the winds coming from that direction were so strong that he was surprised that sand wasn’t blowing into their faces from Calormen.

We’ve got this all backwards.

Edmund turned back abruptly to face Zanta. “We’ll go to them,” he said. Everyone turned to him in surprise, but he kept going. “The Calormenes. We can put a stop to it directly.”

“You will?” Zanta asked expectantly.

Baris shifted his weight from hoof to hoof, while Peridan scratched under the bandage of his wrist, a solid frown on his face.

“And how do you suppose we do that, your Majesty?” Ferrin asked directly, with more than a hint of doubt coloring his voice.

Meeting with the Calormenes was the last thing any of them wanted to do, Edmund knew, but at this point, there was no other option. Surely they saw that. Whatever happened to their unwavering support?

Susan looked from him back to Zanta, and he couldn’t tell if she was upset with him or not. “Or perhaps we can go to Lune directly and speak on your behalf,” she calmly suggested. “You wouldn’t have to. Perhaps we can convince Archenland to confront these rogue Calormenes.”

Edmund shook his head at his sister. It was too late to go to Lune at this point, for he would know that she had entered Archenland under false pretenses and that Edmund had snuck in. Anything to avoid that. But he knew he could discuss that with Susan later, once they were back at camp. “Regardless of what we decide, Grandmare Zanta, I give you my word we will do everything in our power to stop them,” he solemnly promised.

Zanta looked from him to Susan. When Susan didn’t add anything, she turned back to him. “Thank you, your Majesty. Your Majesties,” she corrected, looking once again at his sister. And then she did the sweeping bow with her trunk.

Susan curtseyed in return, and the rest of the Narnian company bowed as well. “We must go, Grandmare Zanta, and return to our camp before we get completely blown away in this gale. It has been a real pleasure meeting you and your family.”

“Thank you. Though it’s a pity you could not stay longer, for the winds should die down any time now,” Zanta said, pointing towards the south with her trunk. “They usually do at this time of day.”

Edmund silently groaned, and he thought he heard Ferrin mutter “Ideal conditions for grapevines” to himself while kicking a bit of the rocky soil around with his toe.

After their final goodbyes, they all rode back towards the northeast in silence. Edmund knew that everyone had a lot on their minds, especially with his somewhat erratic suggestion of confronting whatever Calormenes were responsible for the disappearances. He chose not to say anything, though, for the lone reason of the possibility of Zanta and her Herd overhearing their conversation. Edmund would feel more at ease with several miles between them.

“What are we to do now, Edmund?” Susan asked. “I’ve done my part. I do believe it’s your turn to lead this charge.”

He got his answer from earlier—his sister was most certainly not pleased. “I don’t know, I have not thought through it yet,” he said. “But let’s not discuss this until we’re back at camp.”

Peridan nodded and looked up at the sun. It was still warm out, but as Zanta predicted, the winds had died down considerably. “I will suggest that if we stop to eat, we best do so now, but make it quick. We still have a few hours of travel back to camp, and night falls earlier every day now. We wouldn’t want to be caught by that surprise if we linger too long.”

Ferrin blew air out his cheeks. “Especially if there are rogue Calormenes out kidnapping after dark.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Ferrin,” Baris said, his hooves kicking up gravel as he walked. “I don’t think they would have any interest in you.”

::x:x:x::
“The largest land animal is the elephant, and it is nearest to man in intelligence: it understands the language of its country and obeys orders, remembers duties that it has been taught, is pleased by affection and marks of honor, nay more it possesses virtues rare even in man, honesty, wisdom, justice, also respect for the stars and reverence for the sun and moon.” — Pliny the Elder
::x:x:x:x:x:x:x::
Official Narnian Camp Northwest of Esting, Darden, Archenland. Secondweek, September, 1010.
Susan, Day 19, Cont.

Though the camp had been set up a few days previously, and she had slept the previous evening there, Susan was not quite familiar and settled in quite yet. The first night in the area was spent at the Orange Thorn Inn upon her arrival in Esting, and she, Baris and others of the Narnian entourage had arrived back to the camp so late the previous night that she did not get a chance to collect her bearings.
However, it was a location suitable for an official Narnian Encampment in the Darden province. Turvalin and the Birds had scouted the location well. The nearby lake was currently a dark cobalt blue, with long, black silhouettes of the trees stretching across its surface. The setting half moon reflected in the center of it, with the occasional consecutive circles popping here and there as giant water bugs dipped down and the lake fish snatched up their evening snack. There was still a bit of the day’s warmth in the air, though evidence of the upcoming cooler nights of autumn was starting to creep in.

After a long day’s journey to the Elephant Valley and back, it was providing a rather peaceful backdrop to the evening meal Turvalin had provided for them upon their return. The only thing that interrupted the serenity of the moment were the chirping of the cicadas, frogs, and other sounds of nature coming from the lake.

That was until Ferrin chimed in with his idea on how to confront the Calormenes, in which the camp turned into anything but peaceful. Still, Susan had to admit Ferrin’s idea was rather clever one, even if Edmund found issue with it.

“I don’t like it,” Edmund stated, his hand coming down onto his thigh in a resounding slap! “We don’t know who we’re dealing with, and to send you blindly in—”

“Her Majesty won’t be blind, she’ll have me!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, Ferrin,” Edmund countered, before turning to her. “Let me go instead, Su. I’m the one who got us into this mess, after all,” he insisted.

Susan tsked in response and set her emptied dinner plate down beside her. “What will you do to make yourself blend in? Crop your hair and speak like the locals? Don’t be ridiculous…we both know your Southern Archenlander accent is far from convincing. And you look horrible with shorter hair.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Turvalin surreptitiously nodding in agreement. “Besides, we look too much alike—we could never pass off as a married couple.”

“A brother and sister, then. Since, we are, oh, I don’t know…brother and sister.”

Peridan shook his head. “Then hat will just bring more attention to you, and not just the Queen. More risk of exposure for both of you.”

“They will be looking at her enough, though, won’t they?”

Ferrin pulled out a pipe from his pocket. “Like I’d let any man skim their hungry little eyes upon my wife.”

Susan scowled at him, but Ferrin paid no heed as he packed his pipe. She was not thrilled at the prospect of the scenario either, but it worked to their advantage of having a woman present. The Calormenes would be at the disadvantage—it was not their custom to include any women in on any sort of negotiations or discussions, and if Susan’s presence meant that they were all the more uncomfortable, the easier it would be to get the information they needed. And Susan would do what she had to do for Narnia and for her Narnians. Which is evident in my official excuse of coming into Archenland, after all. Susan slumped further against the fallen tree trunk at her back as she stared down into her cup of water. She was still to play a pawn, it seems. And she knew her other mission was still far from over.

Susan looked up to find Edmund staring darkly into the fire, lost in his own thoughts. She was relieved that he had stopped arguing, though, and saw the reasoning behind the plan. But he was looking suspiciously like he was about to fall into one of his moods again.

Baris sat next to her brother on a log, a leg hunched up, picking at the bottom of his hoof with a small knife. Edmund sighed audibly and turned to the faun. “Must you do that here?”

“I’ve picked up a pebble.” Baris kept scraping, and Edmund kept staring. The faun looked up at him. “What? It hurts!”

Edmund sighed audibly again, and slid down to the ground next to Peridan, reaching for the wine skin lying between them. She saw Milletpeck fly down from the darkened sky and perch next to his shoulder on the log, apparently back from her watch.

Peridan cleared his throat. “It certainly was an amazing day, though. I had heard tales, of course, from my grandfather about our history, but I didn’t know they were still out there,” he said and polished off the remaining wine in his cup.

Susan had no idea what he was talking about, but appreciated the break from the tension.

Peridan then stretched his leg outs, his boots mere feet from the edge of the fire. “It makes me wonder whatever happened to our Elephant,” he quietly mused.

Baris suddenly stopped his scraping, bringing the entire encampment to silence, save for the frogs down by the lake.

Edmund turned to his friend, with an incredulous frown. “Your family exiled…and with an Elephant? Like in Lucy’s letter?”

Peridan nodded. “My father’s side.”

Baris set his hoof down. “We’ve been on this mission for how long and you never once mentioned it?” The faun almost looked offended.

“You never asked,” Peridan said with a shrug. “I mean, you all know I have Narnian blood in me.”

Susan assumed he was referring to Edmund and his other friends, for this was all news to her. She barely knew the man. I wonder how many of the other colonists from Archenland can be traced to the exiled Narnians.

“But I thought it was all a secret, and no one knew of them,” Ferrin said.

Peridan nodded. “It is a secret. Surely your family has plenty of secrets that they don’t air out with the laundry, Ferrin.”

Ferrin’s face comically twisted. “I have no comment on that one.”

“And here you knew all along!” Edmund exclaimed, shaking his head as he drank from his wine. “What do you know of the Elephants’ history at all?”

Peridan shook his head. “Not much, I’m afraid. Just that my great-great grandparents shared an Elephant with two other families to flee the…well, you know…and that my great-grandfather was born shortly after arriving here. He died right before I was born, though my sister says she remembers him. That’s pretty much all I know.”

Susan thought that was a lot more than she knew about any of her great-grandfathers. I think…I think Peter was perhaps named after one of them. On Father’s side…?

“That, and the songs,” Peridan added, interrupting her train of thought.

At that, Baris’ ears twitched in interest. “Songs?”

“Traveling songs, brought down from Narnia,” Peridan clarified, reaching from his reclined position for the wine skin and refilling his cup. “They’re common folk songs now. You know of them, Ferrin?”

Ferrin chewed on his pipe and nodded. “Aye, sure do. They still sing them in the groves back home.”

“I’m sure they’ve spread out over the years. There’s one in particular my mother took a liking to, though she doesn’t have any recent Narnian roots herself.”

Recent is relative. One hundred years did not seem recent to Susan. But then again, she thought of Durah’s own grandmother being part of that same generation.

“Will you sing it for us, Sir Peridan?” she found herself asking. The rest of the party seemed to have wanted that as well, as they all sat up straighter and looked towards Peridan in anticipation.

Peridan looked up at her in surprise. “Of course, your Majesty.” He sat up, put his cup down, and wrapped his arms around his knees. His gaze shifted to the fire, and in a soft, melancholic baritone, he started to sing:

Last Autumn of his reign,
Our blessed King was slain
In war, then came the cold chill of frost.

So with the Winter’s spell
We bade our friends farewell;
No more, our homes forever lost.

The tune shifted, and to Susan’s surprise, Ferrin started humming in harmony.

The False Queen’s stolen from us
Spring and Summer, we’ll thus
Yearn for the land we freely could roam.

But when Winter’s lost its hold,
The Prophecy foretold:
Come Four, and we’ll return to our home.

Susan could not tell whether it was the strong, clear tone of his voice or the words he sang, but it was enough to render the entire group silent for long moments after the song ended. The cicadas were even silent, the only sound coming from the snapping and crackling of the flames. With a shuddering breath, she glanced up at Edmund and found him staring darkly into the fire. Susan wondered if he felt the same chills down her arms at the haunting melody. She pulled her knitted shawl tighter around her shoulders as the old melody seemed to sink down into her bones.

“That’s not how it goes, Peridan,” Ferrin scoffed, breaking the atmosphere. He leaned over for the wine skin by Peridan’s side and refilled his drink.

Peridan’s own attention snapped back into the present. “What? That’s the way I learned it.”

“No, it ends:

When winter’s lost its hold,
The sun’s replaced the cold,
Come forth, and we’ll return to our home.

And the beginning and middle bits are all different, too—not to mention you dropped an entire verse at the end.”

“Nonsense,” Baris scolded. “It’s obvious the song is about the Prophecy and their Royal Majesties, Ferrin. The Prophecy.”

“I am only saying that this is the way we sing it in Obstrand,” Ferrin shrugged. “‘The autumn and its rain.’ It’s about the changing of the seasons and our return to the orchards in the springtime. Which you’d know if you sang the last part,” he added and took a drink.

Baris laughed. “Sounds to me that you bastardized the song.”

“Sounds like a completely different song altogether,” Peridan quietly mused.

“Enough,” snapped Edmund, his eyes holding that familiar darkness about them. He roughly got up from his seat by the fire and grabbed for his filled cup of wine. “I’m going to send a message on to Peter. Milletpeck.” And with that, he retreated to his tent, Milletpeck flapping behind him.

It was a long moment before anyone else spoke. “What’s with him?” Ferrin finally groused, but quieted after a sharp look from Baris.

A chunk of wood collapsed in the fire, its white carcass glowing red in the cracks. Susan shivered and brought her shawl closer around her, partly from the dying fire and partly from the residuals of the song.

Baris must have taken note of the fire, for he then sheathed his knife back on his waist and stood up. “Ferrin, let’s get more wood.”

Susan noticed it wasn’t a suggestion—she was so used to Edmund’s company being so informal, she was not used to any of them pulling rank. Ferrin looked up at Baris standing over him, then over his shoulder at the rest of camp. “Yeah, all right,” Ferrin grumbled, snuffing out his pipe and slowly standing.

She watched the two retreating forms get swallowed into the darkness and turned her gaze back to the fire. She was relieved, for she didn’t want Ferrin’s foulness to continue spoiling the moment.

“My apologies, your Majesty. I didn’t think of what sort of effect the song would have on the King.” Susan glanced up and saw Peridan giving her a weak smile. “It’s just been so ingrained that I had forgotten that it was even about your Majesty and your Royal Siblings.”

Susan’s laugh was without humor. “I must say that even after a decade on the throne, neither Edmund nor myself are completely comfortable with the roles we’ve been thrust in. And to now learn that songs were sung about us for years prior…It’s—it’s humbling, Sir Peridan,” Susan said. “I don’t know if we ever will get used to it.”

Peridan nodded, and Susan wondered how much Edmund had informed his compatriots of the Pevensie family that wasn’t already well known amongst the Narnians. Specifically that of Edmund’s own personal history and that which had happened upon their arrival in Narnia. Edmund did say that he trusted Peridan the most above all—which says a lot considering he has known Baris for half of his life.

She tried to think of the last time she had ever talked one-on-one with Peridan, but she came up short. She really did not know much about the man and had never spent much time with him at all—not until they had met up with during the unexpected battle on the Narnian border. “Is your wrist better?” she asked, reminded of his injury and the fate of his poor horse.

He looked up in surprise and gave his bandaged hand a rub. “It is, thank you, your Majesty. I keep it wrapped more as a reminder to not exert it as much.”

“That’s good to hear.”

They fell into another silence, and Susan enjoyed the quiet that came with not having either Ferrin or Baris around. Or even Edmund sometimes. The cicadas picked up again in the distance, and Peridan’s mournful tune repeated itself in her head to the rhythm of the chirps. She always enjoyed learning a new tune, and to hear a traditional Narnian one was a real treat. “You said your mother sang that to you? The song?”

“Played mostly. She was shy and quiet until you gave her a lap harp.” A wistful smile lit up his face, and Susan sat back in her seat as he continued. “But when she sang, she could silence an entire room when everyone would stop to listen. She was a song hoarder, often getting my father to teach her the Narnian songs he was taught as a child,” Peridan took a drink of his wine and stared into its contents. “She certainly was a handsome woman.”

“Handsome?” Susan remarked. “Not usually a term to describe the attributes of feminine beauty.”

Peridan looked up at her, wistfully. “She was strong in face as she was in spirit. Of course, I was needlessly told that, for I remember her well. No, she was beautiful. A true daughter of Archenland, descended from the first King Col himself, though she wholeheartedly embraced my father’s Narnian heritage. As evidence in the song,” he quietly added.

She tried to imagine her, but couldn’t decide if she had the fairness of those in Anvard, or the darker attributes of those in the West and South. Taking his looks in consideration, it could go either way. “And she’s no longer with us?”

He smiled sadly. “No, she’s not. She died when I was young, and I left the home soon afterwards, eventually going to Narnia. I just wasn’t cut out for Archenland, I suppose. I’ve never felt quite at ease here as I do in Narnia. My true home,” he said, and Susan saw the pride in his eyes.

The pride was infectious. “Narnia is welcoming to all, it seems, who want to serve her well,” she said, and he met her smile with one of his own.

“That she is,” he agreed. He shifted uncomfortably, and turn his mug around in his hands. “And you, your Majesty? We talked about my mother. Might I ask about yours?”

The question unsettled her deeply, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach. To her recollection, no one had ever asked about her parents, not since they first arrived in Narnia. The shadows from the fire played across Peridan’s face, but Susan could see genuine interest there. That, and probably the influence of too much wine.

Over his shoulder, she could see directly into the gap of her brother’s tent. Edmund was currently hunched over a camp desk, scribbling away, only breaking away to indulge in his own cup of wine. Though she couldn’t see her, Milletpeck’s shadow from a candle bounced on the side of the tent. Her gaze returned to the fire and quickly lost focus in the flickering tongues of orange and red. “We don’t talk much about our mother,” was all she allowed herself to say.

“If I may be so bold, I noticed that King Edmund doesn’t mention anything about any of your family, outside of his Royal Siblings.”

Susan smiled sadly. “It’s not by choice, that I assure you.”

“Your Majesty?”

She blinked and looked back across at him. “My apologies, Sir Peridan,” Susan wearily answered as she tucked away a loose strand of dark hair that had fallen in her face. “I’m afraid the topic of our extended family is a delicate one when it comes between my siblings and myself.”

Peridan set his cup down, and bowed his head in her direction. “Then I’m the one who should apologize—I didn’t realize.”

She slowly eased herself up from her own reclined position. “Nor should you have. Worry not, my lord, it’s no longer a matter of anyone’s concern.” Just my own. Oh, Mother, please forgive us. “To answer your question, my mother is a very kind woman. Or…was, rather,” she amended.

“Was, your Majesty? Has she departed for Aslan’s Country as well?”

Aslan’s Country. Susan did the mental calculations— ten, nearly ten and a half years had passed. She would be forty-five this year. I’m the age she was when she had Peter. A deep, tightening ache started low, working its way up and through her core. Her heart thudded in a few heavy beats, and she found herself inhaling deep in recovery. “I don’t know. I don’t know what became of her fate. There was a war.…”

Peridan’s kind gaze was neither pitying nor patronizing for which she was very grateful. He instead reached for the wine skin and leaned over to pass it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, but for some reason, didn’t pour any into her cup.

“Who was she most like, would you say, your Majesty? Yourself or the Queen Lucy?”

To this, Susan let out a genuine laugh, thankful for the reason to laugh. “Neither! She’s Peter’s mother, as he’s her son, through and through. But she had to be, what with all that was dealt to her. What with Father being sent off to a war and her managing the household on her own with four young children all on her own. I strive to be like her.”

Peridan stretched his legs out in front of him again and eased himself back into a lean against the log. “King Edmund has said that he believes you all came from a much more modest background than you are used to here.”

“He said that?” You can remember that, Ed, but no more? Modest was an understatement. Images of cramped living arrangements, made worse with petty arguments and meager meals from that war. Something about sharing rooms. And the arguing. Perhaps it was best Edmund didn’t remember those times. “It’s true. Our lives certainly are topsy-turvy from what they were before.”

“‘Topsy-turvy’?”

“An expression from home. A favorite of my father’s. And Peter’s, at one time,” she quietly amended.

“I see.”

They were interrupted when Baris and Ferrin returned, their arms full of various sizes of sticks and broken branches. Baris gently started a pile on the outskirts of the circle, while Ferrin promptly dumped his stack haphazardly to the side before returning into the dark.

With a sigh, Baris, wordlessly neatened the pile before slowly standing back up. “We didn’t find much around here, so we’ll have to broaden the perimeter to find more fuel. If we’re not back in twenty minutes, just presume that I have killed Ferrin, and you can divide his belongings amongst yourselves. Leave me whatever lasaia he has left, though.” And with that, he followed where Ferrin had previously went.

“I’m sure King Edmund won’t object,” Peridan called out to his retreating form, while Susan bit her tongue in response.

The sounds of the Baris and Ferrin’s footsteps through the brush faded out and Peridan finished off the rest of the wine in his cup. She wordlessly handed the skin back to him, having never taken any of its contents. There was enough for one last serving, and she figured he would appreciate it more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, to which she nodded in response. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

He didn’t bother pouring it into his cup, and Susan watched him tilt it back for drink. She studied his face, wondering how old he was and when exactly he came to Narnia. For some reason, she didn’t find it appropriate to ask, despite the details of their pasts they had already shared between them. He did look to be Peter’s age, perhaps older. Certainly handsome, a trait he must have inherited from his mother. A true daughter of Archenland.

“Peridan?”

“Yes, your Majesty?”

She glanced down at her shawl, and pulled at a loose loop from the knitted pattern. “I’ve noticed you still call my brother ‘King Edmund’ when it’s just you and I talking. You don’t have to address him as such to me. I know you call him directly by his given name,” Susan said. She looked up and found him looking directly at her, but she could not read the expression on his face. “And you can call me Susan, likewise. Please.”

After a moment, Peridan finally and formally bowed his head in response. Susan felt a bit disappointed at his reaction until she realized she did just issue a Royal request. All in an attempt to lose the overbearing formalities. She brought the shawl up higher on her shoulders and longed for the last bit of wine she had just given away.

Turvalin provided another interruption when he approached their section of the encampment. “Your tent is ready, your Majesty. My apologies for taking so long this evening.”

“It wasn’t any trouble, Turvalin. I had not been ready to retire just yet anyway,” she replied.

The satyr bowed in return and went into Edmund’s tent. Though she could not hear their conversation, she saw Edmund look up blearily at his squire as Turvalin gave him a quick briefing of the days events. Eventually, Edmund handed Turvalin his empty cup and clipped a tightly folded letter on to Milletpeck. As Turvalin exited the tent, Milletpeck followed him and flew up into the dark night towards the North, towards Narnia. Susan watched Edmund scrub his face with one hand before standing to cross to the side of the tent she could not see, with only the shadow the candle provided to show him leaning over his trunk and digging around its contents.

The moon had finally set and the cicadas had quieted for the night, and the realization of the late hour came to her as she stifled a yawn. It had certainly been a long day and she had quite a lot to think about—their failure to convince Zanta’s Herd to return to Narnia and, of course, the upcoming undercover mission of sniffing out the Calormenes responsible for the disappearance of the elephants.

“Susan?” Peridan asked, hesitantly.

She looked up in surprise. It was rather strange to hear her name without a formal title attached. Though it had been an idle suggestion, she realized that this was the first time anyone had called her thus since her coronation, aside from her siblings. And Lune. And Aslan, of course, when he was around…something that was occurring less and less. “Yes?”

It had gotten so dark out, and the fire had died down just enough that she could barely make out Peridan’s silhouette. “What was—what is her name? Your mother’s?”

His correction caused a pang in her heart. “Helen.”

Peridan’s head tilted in consideration. “Like Queen Helen,” he exclaimed, surprised.

“Yes, just like.” Susan was not ignorant of ancient Narnian traditions. The Narnian Kings were honored by namesakes, with King Franks sitting on the throne for several generations. The history tomes claimed that the Queens’ names, however, were revered. To name another after a blessed queen would be considered highly presumptuous, unlucky even; it was very unlikely that another Helen had ever walked in Narnia or Archenland.

Peridan’s face turned thoughtful. He then reached for an unlit lantern by him and stood up. Susan realized he was a rather tall man and wondered why she had never noticed that about him before. “A proper name for the mother of queens,” Peridan quietly responded.

Susan in turn shifted her face towards the fading heat of the fire, not wishing for Peridan to see how much his statement affected her. “It is indeed, sir.” She hoped the lump in her throat wasn’t audible.

She watched him crouch down to the fire to light his lamp. Susan in turn stood up to brush off her skirts and brush off her sudden feelings of melancholy.

“Goodnight, Peridan,” she said. “Please get some rest, it’s been a long day. And we have much to do in the morning in preparation.” She looked around to tidy up what she could from the evening’s meal, but apparently Turvalin had already taken care of that. She had no idea when he had, though.

“And you as well. Goodnight, your Majesty. Susan,” Peridan corrected himself as he stood up with his lit lantern and bowed. Susan dipped in return and turned to walk slowly to her tent.

As Susan stepped into the warmth of her tent, she allowed her shoulders to relax. It was surprising how unnerved she felt from the entire evening, ever since Peridan sang that song, and she wished once again that she had not given away the wine. In all fairness, Susan was not used to such situations. It was much easier to be hosting a dinner, or even being the guest where such formality was to be expected. But as hard as it was, her recent dinner with the Lords in Anvard, the afternoon ride with Lord Dar, and all the countless other times she had been courted in and out of Narnia were all easier than moments such as this. Susan was not like Lucy. Or even Edmund. Susan did not have the friends they did. She never thought that she would identify more with Peter in that regard.

She supposed she took after her own mother that way—she and Peter both, really. Their mother was often alone, especially after having her children and especially after that war started. And deep down, Susan feared going down the same path. She never chose to be like this, and she recalled having friends while in school back in England. What is it about being here, though? she asked herself as she peeled off the layers of her dress to change into her nightshift.

If she only could be more like Lucy! Her sister had quite the knack of befriending anyone and everyone, as evidenced with the recent arrival of Durah to Narnia. According to Lucy’s last note she had received while in Esting, they were getting along quite well indeed. Lucy always somehow manages to swoop in when a friend is needed, and Durah undoubtedly needed one. She travelled all the way to Narnia by herself, after all. Well, she may as well have been all alone since her traveling companion was quick to part ways upon their arrival.

But still, for the Elephant to leave her family, her loved ones behind. And willingly! Durah’s aunts—and surely all of her extended family—worried about her, and understandably so. Susan knew her own aunt couldn’t even get her name right. Durah should be so lucky!

That’s not fair. Durah, after all, lost her mother when she was quite young. Susan would not wish such a fate on anyone, and though she knew she would never see her again, Susan did take comfort in knowing that Helen Pevensie could still be alive and well somewhere.

Susan sat down heavily on her camp bed and lifted her bare foot up to examine it. She let out an annoyed tsk at the purplish green blemish of a bruise on the top of her foot from her brief time in Mittelward, Darrinden. Giving it a gentle prod, she was relieved to learn that it looked worse than it felt.

She set her foot back down on the ground and tightened her fists at her sides. I wish Mother could see us now. Susan just knew that she would be so proud of each and every one of them. Especially Edmund…she had been so worried, and Edmund had been so bitter when they last parted at the train station all those years ago. It pained her to know that it was the last Mother ever saw of her son—what would be her last memory of him. Of any of them, really.

If she had survived that war, that is. Is heaven the same thing as Aslan’s Country? If so, perhaps she had met Sir Peridan’s mother….

Susan often wondered such things, but she could not talk about them with her siblings. The last time she approached her sister, Lucy got upset and had felt so guilty that she could not remember anything. “I was so young, Susan,” she had said with mournful, blue eyes. And Susan in turn felt guilty for ever bringing it up with Edmund, especially with his attitude at the train station when they last saw her. He would get so dismissive if she tried. And Peter? Susan just didn’t dare bring any of this up with him. She knew better.

Her eyes turned towards the flickering flame of the candle on her trunk. No, this was a battle she would fight on her own, had fought on her own for some time, and if she had to continue to go her own way alone, then she would. For the better of her family. And therefore, for the better of Narnia. Even though, deep down, Susan was deathly afraid of being just that—alone.

From outside the tent came the sounds of Baris and Ferrin returning with more fuel for the fire. Ferrin eventually called out an overly loud and rude “Goodnight and good riddance!” as he retired to the other side of camp. Evidence of the fire being tended to came in the form of the outside growing slightly brighter, and there was a low exchange of words between Peridan and Baris. Eventually, the clop-clop of Baris’ hooves passed by her tent. A moment later came the long steady strides of Sir Peridan.

Oh. Susan realized that she never bothered to ask him his mother’s name. She admonished herself, vowing to ask him the next time the opportunity arose, and blew out the candle. After peeling back the layers of blankets, she tucked her bare feet under the cool cotton bottom sheet, hoping that the wool blankets on top would be quick to warm the bed. Once settled, Susan took a deep breath and closed her eyes before she started her evening ritual.

“Susan Louise Pevensie,” she recited quietly to herself. “Twelfth of October, nineteen twenty-seven. Helen and William Pevensie of Chessington Avenue, Finchley, London. Saint Finbar’s School on Queen’s Road, Hendon, London….”

::x:x:x::
“I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.” — Vladimir Nabokov
::x:x:x:x:x:x:x::
Unknown Village South of Esting, Darden, Archenland. Thirdweek, September, 1010.
Edmund, Day 22.

The Gull stood on the horse post with squinted eyes, braced against the cold wind that ruffled its feathers.
“What’s a seagull doing this far inland?” Edmund heard a person say to his mate as they crossed from the stable to the front door of the inn.

Edmund was going to have to have a word with Lucy. Common sense did not always come hand-in-hand with her decision making.

As soon as the patrons entered the building, Edmund jabbed a finger towards the Gull and then gestured a thumb over his shoulder, indicating for the him to scram. Edmund had, after all, already given him his orders. The Bird blinked in confusion a few times before finally taking flight, zipping past confused townsfolk as he flew up the road Edmund had just come from.

The Gull had been a nuisance ever since he had arrived from Cair Paravel that morning, having journeyed the past several days with urgent messages from Lucy. And his arrival was not without incident. The Bird had entered Edmund’s tent that morning while all were preparing for the day’s undercover mission, and had proceeded to flap around the tent squawking for a solid minute before any of them realized that it wasn’t a gull, but a Gull.

“Peace, friend,” Susan had called, smoothing hair that she had been braiding. Her dark tresses had been quite tousled in the melee. “What news do you have for us?”

The Gull had finally settled up on the small table set up in the middle of the tent, taking center stage. “Your Majesties, I have been sent with a Royal Message from Cair Paravel, under the strict instruction of the Valiant Queen herself, Queen Lucy, to go directly to—”

“The message, sir,” Edmund had ordered, sharing an annoyed look with Baris.

After a long and drawn out exchange, which had taken far longer than necessary—for the Gull could be quite long-winded—they had learned about differences between elephants and Elephants, Durah’s relationship with her family, and other news that would have been much more useful had it arrived three days prior. However, the information of a second Telmarine who was familiar with the Archenlander Elephants, and who was the brother of Bazner, had been interesting news indeed. Of course, they all had concurred that Rovaper was the very Telmarine in question.

No wonder he is so protective of them, Edmund thought. He knew of their secret, that they could talk.

At first, he wondered why neither brother had admitted mentioned the other, but Edmund realized there really wasn’t any reason to reveal such information. Especially if the Telmarine brothers were interested in protecting the location of the Elephants to begin with.

Regardless, it was an interesting piece of information to file away for later, though Ferrin—ever full of tact—had announced to the Gull that it was hardly as urgent as the Bird claimed it was. To which the Gull understandably had taken great offense and had squawked loudly towards his direction in response.

“Never mind, we should be thankful for Lucy’s tenacity,” Edmund had said. “And thank you—…sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

The Bird had turned its head, one pale eye focused on him. “Beaknocker, your Majesty.”
“Yes, thank you Beak—” Edmund had stopped. Beaknocker?
“Beaknocker?” Baris had said aloud. Perhaps a little too incredulously.
“I was very hungry as a chick,” the Gull had offered as explanation.
“That makes no sense to me,” Edmund had responded aloud. Susan had shushed him from over her shoulder at his rudeness before returning to the mirror set up on his camp desk.
Susan had apparently come prepared and had adorned a customary Archenlander lady’s blouse and ankle-length skirt. “From Lune, last year,” she had answered his unasked question with no further explanation. “I removed one of the pinstripes last night.”
Edmund had looked down to the hem of her skirt. Sure enough, he could tell that a fourth ribbon, indicating royalty, was missing. Edmund had been relieved to see that the stripe above the remaining ribbons was only slightly brighter in color to the faded fabric around it. The faint difference wasn’t noticeable as it could have been.
“You’re leaving three, though? Isn’t that excessive?” he had asked her, worried.
She had shaken her head and reached in a small case, pulling out a round hair comb. “I do need to show that I’m married and come from some money.”
“Enough money to buy an elephant.”

“Exactly. When in Rome, after all,” she had said as she finished wrapping her braids in the Archenland style, tucking the comb in on one side.

He had looked towards Baris in confusion, who answered with a shrug. “What is that supposed to mean?” Edmund had asked her.

“Never mind, Ed,” Susan had sighed. “Are we all ready, then?”

They had also decided to put Beaknocker to good use, if not just to keep the Bird out of their hair. It was determine that he would fly to the tavern in question to confirm the Calormenes’ presence, and to check in with each of the traveling parties before returning to Turvalin and Baris. The faun in particular did not seem very excited by the idea of working closely with the new member of their team, but he accepted the circumstances without complaint. Mostly.

In the few days since their meeting with the Elephants, Edmund and Susan were able to finalize their plans with the help of Ferrin. Meanwhile, Peridan and the Birds had been busy, searching the area for any Calormenes making their presence known. Unfortunately, they were not to be found at the other inn in Esting, as Rovaper had told them. But finally, after two full days of searching, Peridan had returned to camp the previous afternoon with the information they needed—there was a small faction in a nearby village, and they were looking to sell an elephant to the highest bidder. Peridan had discreetly left a note at the town’s only inn, indicating that “some friends were coming to town the next day that may be interested.” And with that final piece in place, Edmund and his company were able to put their plan in motion that morning. With the addition of Beaknocker, of course.

Once Ferrin and Susan were ready that morning, their Archenlander disguises fully in place, they were ready go go. Peridan had left first, on point, to establish himself in the tavern they had learned the Calormenes were staying at. After ten minutes, Ferrin and Susan had followed, leaving Edmund to give last minute instructions to Turvalin and Baris as they packed up the encampment to take to a new, secret location towards the southwest.

Milletpeck had caught up with him as he journeyed down the road, having come straight from Peter. She had obviously out-paced Beaknocker who had left the Cair a full day before she had. Edmund was both annoyed and relieved to hear that Peter had given his support for their mad-capped mission. Lucy in the meantime, had sent word along hoping that the Gull “who seemed frightfully excited at his first official Royal Message had arrived safe, sound, and timely.”

Well, one out of three isn’t bad, he thought. Edmund calculated that Milletpeck must have passed the Gull twice during her delivery. What a waste of resources.

Once her news was delivered, Edmund had sent Milletpeck back to Esting to spread the latest rumor of the Queen Susan—the Royal Narnian Company would be setting up a new camp in a different location in Darden, thus ending any further speculation from the town’s gossips on her Majesty’s whereabouts for the time being.

As Edmund had gotten closer to the village, the road got slightly busier while the temperature slightly dropped. He was thankful that his disguise consisted of several worn, woolen layers. After passing a few lonely travelers, sometimes nodding to them, other times bowing, depending on their apparent status in life, he had seen his sister and friend riding slowly ahead. He had decided that to slow his pace would only look suspicious, as if he was following them, so he passed them instead, only acknowledging their presence with the typical nod from one traveler to another. Normally, he would prefer to stay in the rear guard, but he could also see the advantage in securing a spot in the tavern, as Peridan hopefully had already.

Finally, after nearly a half day’s ride, Edmund found himself at the inn that the Birds had confirmed the Calormenes would be. The place could hardly be considered a village. But as Ferrin once told him, the definition of a village only needed the following: a place to rest your horse, a place to rest your head, and a place to rest your lady. This qualifies, then. Barely. He had already stowed his cloak with his horse in the inn’s stable—as much as he would appreciate the warmth, it was too bulky and risky to take with him inside would they need to make a quick escape. And now that Beaknocker was completely out of his hair, he walked to the inn’s entrance.

He had expected Susan and Ferrin to be about a quarter of an hour behind him. They must have picked up their pace, though—as soon as he saw them turn onto the main road in the village, he quickly slipped into the inn.

Of all the drinking establishments they had visited thus far on their journey—and there have been many, Edmund woefully scolded himself—this one was by far his least favorite. It was too cold, too dark, and too busy inside for the middle of a rather pleasant day. The clientele were rougher, and the male to female ratio was not as… well, comforting as Edmund would have preferred. The room had two bars on opposite sides of the room.

The whole place set him on edge, and he quickly strode over to the bar to order up a mug of the local brew. Once a too small and too dirty of a cup was placed in front of him, he turned around to take in the surroundings. He took a drink and was disappointed to find the brew too bitter, as well. What should have instantly relaxed him upon first taste instead jolted him as the offensive liquid made its way down and landed heavily into his stomach. Too bad, he thought, scowling down into the contents of his mug.

“Slouch, Ed,” he heard whispered in his ear as Susan brushed by him, being led by Ferrin. He took her advice and stooped over the bar. In his periphery, Edmund saw Peridan similarly posed at the opposite bar, his own eyes glued to a table in the middle of the room. Edmund followed the direction he was looking, and sure enough, there they were.

Two Calormenes were sitting at one of the larger tables, a pitcher and a stack of cups at the ready, sitting silently while they watched Ferrin and Susan approach them. They were expecting us—them. Good. One was decidedly older than the other, his face weathered with deep, dry wrinkles. The younger of the two had a wispy beard and wide, deep set eyes that were currently squinting suspiciously as Edmund’s sister got closer and closer.

Edmund watched Ferrin chance an arm around Susan’s waist as he led her to one of the empty seats. Susan, ever the trooper—ever the actress—didn’t break stride, though from his angle, he saw her back stiffen slightly.

“Gentlemen!” Ferrin announced before taking a seat.

The Calormenes exchanged a quick glance, before the older one leaned forward and muttered something to Ferrin and Susan. He gestured to the second who slowly bowed his head, his eyes shifting back and forth from Ferrin, to his sister, and back again. Introductions, no doubt. Across the room, Peridan didn’t look up at Edmund, but he did shake his head enough for Edmund to see. He can’t hear either.

“Our pleasure in making your acquaintance, sirs. Redian is my name, and this here is my wife, Helen.”

Helen? Well, that’s not at all obvious, Edmund thought with a quiet groan into his drink. The whole point was to detract attention that a Queen of Narnia was present. And what better way than to go ahead and name yourself as the first Queen, of course! Ridiculous, Su.

The first Calormen’s mouth grew tight. “If you would please—” And once again, Edmund failed to hear the rest of what he was saying.

Damn it.

At the other bar, Edmund could tell Peridan was just as annoyed as he was, as saw his friend down the rest of his drink and slam it on the bar. It was quickly filled, and Peridan slapped a coin down before edging himself farther down, closer to where Ferrin was currently in deep, quiet—very quiet—discussion with the Calormenes.

Susan appeared to be sitting back on this one, only nodding or shaking her head here and there. Edmund thought it was probably for the best. The Calormenes so far seemed to ignore her, save for the occasional leery glance from the younger one. Edmund itched to have Skarpur back at his side.

A waiting game it is. Peridan didn’t seem to be having any luck, either. Well, not in spying in on the conversation at the table. He did appear to have gotten the attention of one of the few barmaids in the room, and Edmund saw the blonde girl slowly saunter closer to where he was standing. He couldn’t blame her—even Edmund could admit that Peridan was usually the pick of the litter of gentlemen clientele. That’s not saying much in a place like this.

Edmund checked to see who he was standing next to. To his dismay, it was an older woman giving him a toothless grin, her patchy cloak dropping down to expose more flesh than Edmund ever wanted to see. He returned her smile, which was more of a borderline grimace, and concentrated on downing the rest of his disgusting drink. And he vowed to avoid making eye contact with her again for the remainder of this mission.

“So,” he heard Ferrin said. Edmund was thankful that he started to speak up again. “I don’t suppose we could arrange to take a look at what you’re offering in the next couple of days? My wife and I are hoping to get settled in before the winter falls.”

“We most definitely can show you…”

Edmund could barely hear the reply from the older one. This is becoming aggravating. The second Calormene leaned in, and Edmund once again could not hear what was being said. Whatever it was, it was enough for Susan to pull back slightly, while Ferrin smiled broadly. But Edmund knew his friend—that smile was definitely a cover. Ferrin was not pleased.

“Certainly we could go somewhere else!” Ferrin said, loud enough for Edmund and Peridan to hear, but not loud enough to cause too much worry from the Calormenes.

“Might I suggest, Redian, the back room?” the first Calormene offered, a slow smile stretching across his weathered face.

Edmund froze. They were not prepared to go to another location. And Edmund could tell that Susan was even less thrilled with the change of plans. She hated it when plans changed. He looked pleadingly over at Peridan, who looked equally unhappy with the situation.

Stall, Ferrin. Stall, stall, stall.

“How about another drink first? The round is on me this time.”

Edmund only slightly relaxed back into his slouch. On me, you mean. Ferrin stood up, giving his “wife” a pat on the shoulder. Susan, in turn, gazed up to him in a near-convincing look of affection.

I promise, Su, a bottle of Tenifore as soon as we’re back.

Edmund watched Ferrin approach the bar and rudely bump into Peridan. Peridan looked convincingly affronted and a few heated words were exchanged, enough for show at least. Eventually, Ferrin clapped him on the back, passed him one of the pours the tender was providing, and took a wide board of mismatched cups back to the table.

Edmund turned his attention back to his sister. She appeared to be making do on her own, as she for the first time engaged the Calormenes in discussion. He had heard the occasional “rivers and streams” and “back at home in Colinden” and the like while the fake altercation ensued, until Ferrin rejoined them, offering the drinks all around.

“To the prospect of a successful transaction, gentlemen!” he announced before downing half of his drink.

Well, I’m glad everyone is getting nice and soused during this mission. He was still drinking the cheap stuff, dressed as a simple worker in the groves with threadbare clothes that Turvalin had somehow acquired them for him. This part of their mission was decidedly the least fun thus far. Edmund took another sip of the swill they called the house brew and scowled.

Across the room, he saw Peridan give the small signal that he was going on the move. Edmund rotated his cup and took another drink in acknowledgement. As Peridan stood with his beer, Edmund saw him give a surreptitious pat to his side to ensure one of his daggers was in place. Edmund, in turn, eased around the perimeter counter-clockwise towards the door, thankfully far away from the older woman who had been inching closer to him, trying not to break view of Ferrin and Susan. It would do them no good if they left before Peridan successfully got in place. Which, Edmund just noticed, happened to not only be by the door to the back room, but also where the blonde barmaid with the hungry eyes was currently standing. She was puckering her lips eager anticipation of Peridan’s approach.

When Peridan paused to chat her up right in front of the back room entrance, Edmund also stopped. Always keep the target in our line so as to not leave any side more exposed. Of course, this put him by the front door, where it was cold and drafty. Damn it. It frankly made no sense that he would have moved there if he unless he was about leave.

Or, if I feel too hot, he thought and unwrapped the wool scarf from around his neck, feigning overheating. Which was far from the truth, and he had to consciously fight the shivers threatening to invade his limbs.

On the opposite side of the room, Peridan seemed to be having a much better time. The barmaid appeared to be quite smitten with her newfound prize as he currently stroked the length of her arm. Edmund could even hear her giggle from twenty yards away and over the low roar of the crowd. Peridan took a sip from his cup and leaned in close to say something in her ear. She in turn shied away and gave him a playful slap, but then grabbed at the buckle of his leather doublet, pulling him close and kissing him squarely on the mouth.

And I pay him for this?

Whatever it was he had said seemed to work, and she was soon leading him through the door to the back room. Edmund’s experiences with back rooms, where deals were usually made, were mixed. Some deals undoubtedly pleasanter than others, such as the one Peridan seemed to be making. But back rooms in seedy taverns and inns such as this one never spelled out good news. And none of them had any idea what to expect of the room here—it could be large and just as full of people. Or it could be small, cramped, and way too private.

Edmund did not know which he preferred, but he was at least relieved that Peridan had already made his way inside. There was little else he could do, though, but wait it out in the main bar and cover the front door until they all exited. On that thought, he sent a quick, silent plea to Aslan that the back room didn’t come with its own back exit, too.

Edmund straightened his stance when he saw Ferrin, Susan and their Calormene party all stand up from the table and begin to file into the back room for negotiations, with the elder leading and the younger taking the rear. The last man’s eyes swept across the room, eventually landing on Edmund standing lamely by the door. Edmund averted his gaze, set his empty cup down on a nearby table, wrapped the wool back around his neck, and casually exited as if that was his full intention all along.

Well, this is going swimmingly, he thought as he gave a small stone outside the door a kick. The sun was currently setting, and shadows played throughout the village. He automatically crossed to the darkest corridor he could find that still gave him view of the front door of the inn. He wasn’t there a full minute before he heard the rustle of wings and the familiar gentle clawing of Milletpeck landing on his right shoulder.

What he didn’t expect was the second fluttering of wings with a much wider wingspan, and the clumsy footing of webbed feet on his left one.

“Get off, both of you,” he grumbled with a shake, and they took off to perch on the eve of the cottage providing him his shadow. He felt bad for ordering Milletpeck as such, but she gave him a knowing glint in her eye while the Gull—Beaknocker, he reminded himself—let out a squawk in protest.

He rubbed his hands together for warmth. “Report.”

Milletpeck opened her beak to speak, but Beaknocker barged ahead. “Master Turvalin told me to tell you that a new secret camp is all set up apart from the Royal Camp and awaiting your arrival, your Majesty.” Proud with the successful delivery of his message, the Gull abruptly sat down on his haunches and made himself comfortable.

Edmund leaned forward expectantly. “And?”

The Gull’s head cocked to the side. “‘And,’ your Majesty?”

“And where is it? The new camp?” He really was going to have to have a word with Lucy.

Beaknocker did not seem amiss that he left out the details. “Two miles southwest of Esting, your Majesty, in the lone grove of cypress.”

Edmund recalled the grove on the way back from visiting the Herd and was relieved that it would be quick ride from their current location once they had things wrapped up here in the village. He blew into his hands, and was disappointed to see both his breath fogging and the last rays of sunlight quickly disappearing over the tops of the trees. The days are getting shorter and shorter. Why do they do that, anyway? “Millet?”

“No other Calormenes in a five mile radius. If they have a camp set up, it’s not anywhere near here.”

Which meant it would be a bigger deal to make the journey to see the truth of whether they did have an elephant or Elephant—or possibly more— in captivity. “Thank you. We wait here until we hear from Peridan or my sister leaves the inn. Whichever comes first.”

The Gull squawked again in response. Milletpeck smartly knew to remain quiet.

The front door of the inn opened and Edmund tucked behind the corner of the cottage, peering around only to see that it was a false alarm. The older woman at the bar slammed the door behind her with her foot, wrapped her patchwork cloak around her, and thankfully walked in the opposite direction.

Edmund crouched down into the ground, making sure at least one of his own throwing knives was within reach and that he had a clear view of the inn. So far, he was extremely disappointed in how the afternoon was playing out. He had no idea if his poor performance was due to the fact that Susan was involved, or if he was just still too green to be carrying out such underhanded acts.

Whatever it was, Edmund knew he had way too many shortcomings and he was anxious to return back to camp, think things through, and write out how things should have played out in his journal. He had absolutely no interest in throwing himself out of his own stakeout ever again. And next time, he thought, I won’t leave my cloak with the horse. The cold was inhibiting his movements much more than any cloak would have. But he could not risk losing sight of the front door to retrieve the much desired piece of clothing.

The soft sound of footsteps on gravel interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see a dark figure casually coming towards him. Normally, he would have been alert with blade in hand, but after a handful of missions, Edmund was able to recognize Peridan’s gait anywhere.

Peridan rounded the corner with one last look over his shoulder before crouching down alongside him. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I think I’m growing accustomed to the cold, having removed myself from the mission early on.” Peridan looked at him quizzically, but Edmund waved him off. “How did things go? And where did you come from? I didn’t see you exit.”

“Back door. And they went well as they could, I suppose. I couldn’t hear much of their conversation—that girl was rather insistent,” Peridan said, with a look of bewilderment. “However, I did manage to hear with my own ears that they do have an elephant with them.”

“That’s good news. For us, that is, not the elephant,” Edmund clarified in haste.

His friend nodded in understanding and continued. “From the looks of things, Ferrin and Her Majesty—”

“Save yourself the trouble around me, Peridan. Susan is fine,” Edmund corrected. “She wouldn’t mind.”

Peridan eyes quickly flashed up to him. “Ferrin and Susan. They appeared to get a good grasp of what the Calormenes are actually proposing, and they seemed to play along well. Ferrin asked to see the goods before they decide on whether they wanted to invest. The Calormenes have agreed, but there’s one caveat.”

“Which is?”

Peridan rubbed his hands together for warmth. “They insisted that Ferrin and her Majesty—sorry, Susan—to accompany them tonight if they wanted to see it at all.”

“Tonight?” he groaned, looking up at the quickly darkening sky. Damn it. Those better not be rain clouds I see.

“Now or never,” Peridan confirmed. “From what I could gather, they’re encamped due south, right on the banks of the Winding Arrow.”

Edmund jerked back in surprise. If that was true, then the Calormenes were set up on the extreme southern border of the country. “That’s a hard hour’s ride from here!” he protested.

“They really didn’t leave Ferrin and Susan much choice. It was now or never,” he repeated. “I got the impression they really don’t want to reveal much information unless the party is extremely interested. To which the two of them were rather convincing.”

“More convincing than I was for sure,” Edmund groused, once again cursing his failure.

“They won’t be out for a few minutes, I don’t think. They returned to the front room and Ferrin bought another round in the to buy me more time to exit. I don’t think that back door’s usually used, so I had to be careful not to be seen.”

Edmund breathed out in frustration. It was going to be a rather long evening ahead of them, after an already long day, and he didn’t even have the opportunity his friend had at having—What, three? Four?—beers to make it all pass pleasantly. He figured at least Ferrin was still able to keep his wits about him for the journey. If Ferrin had gotten another two in his system, Edmund most likely would have called the mission off. Which would not have been the first time that happened.

However, they were already in this deep, so they may as well follow through with the plans, even if it took all evening. What was to come from all of this, Edmund was not sure, but he chose not to dwell on it. They’ll gather the information they need, and he and Susan could figure it out later. Preferably in the comfort of a heated tent.

“What happened to the girl?” Edmund asked, eager for something to get his mind off of the hard ride ahead.

Peridan grinned. “She moved on to greener pastures once she found out I couldn’t afford her,” Peridan said, looking over his shoulder back at the inn. “Ferrin cleaned me out when I had to buy him, his wife and their distinguished guests their liquid refreshments. I couldn’t be more relieved,” he said with a slight shudder. “I think she may have had fleas. Makes me itchy just thinking it.”

Edmund gave a slight laugh. “Sounds more like Ferrin’s type.”

“What isn’t?”

“Fair enough,” Edmund responded. “All right. I guess we follow them, then. Beaknocker,” he said, and the Gull stood up from his crouched position on the eve. “You will accompany Sir Peridan in scoping out the Calormen camp and secure a discreet observation point.”

Beaknocker bowed his head, but this time kept quiet. Good, he’s learning.

Edmund looked at the door of the inn. “They’ll still need to get their horses, so I’m sure it will still be awhile before they leave. I’ll see you there eventually, I guess?” Edmund asked him.

Peridan nodded and stood, tightened the strap of the knife on his waist, and jogged off towards the inn’s stable for his horse while Beaknocker took off into the twilight sky, making his way south.

Edmund sat and waited, keeping one eye on the inn, the other on the approaching system slowly swallowing up the sun’s rays as it dipped deeper into the west. There was a chance the storm could go north and they could avoid it altogether, but Edmund wasn’t counting on it. Not with his luck that day.

After a few false alarms, the door eventually creaked open to reveal Ferrin holding the door open for his “wife” and the two Calormenes. They made their way to the stables, sharing light conversation and the occasional laugh. All was still on track. When they passed by him a second time, this time mounted and heading south through town, Edmund turned to Milletpeck and gave her a nod.

The Jackdaw flew up, deliberately flying in Susan’s path. His sister must’ve taken notice—Edmund could see her visibly relax in her saddle.

Edmund, in turn, slowly stood up, his knee creaking in protest, and slowly limped towards the stable. He hoped that they could wrap this thing up before the rain came.

::x:x:x::
“It is not so much our friends’ help that helps us, as the confidence of their help.” — Epicurus
::x:x:x:x:x:x:x::


Map | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Comments

[autumnia]

Aha, so now we learn a bit more about Bazner. I was wondering about that since he hasn't made an appearance in this story since the start. :-) And so he too has a brother who knows about the Elephants. That doesn't seem to bode very well for the Monarchs, does it?

And as wonderful as the Elephants are, I do have to agree with Edmund that they seem so difficult to effectively communicate with. :-)

I love all the songs you've sprinkled throughout this story. It adds to the world-building and all the history of the characters and places in your Narnia-verse.

The conversation between Peridan and Susan about the Pevensie family was wonderful. I like that Susan could at least talk to someone outside of her siblings a little about her own parents, and a bit of what their life was like back then. I feel for her to be so isolated from her siblings in that -- that she can remember strongly of England while Lucy was indeed too young and Edmund's last memory of that place would not have been pleasant. I do wonder a bit at what Peter really thinks about all this. In theory, he should remember as well as Susan if not more, but perhaps with all his duties here, he never really thinks on it much and so dismisses it almost as if his own past was the fairy tale and that Narnia is the reality.

And it really is a shame that with all the guilt Susan feels about leaving their mother behind, that in the end, all four of them do return to England and that no time at all has passed them. Had she known what was to come, perhaps she could have been happier in Narnia and felt less remorse over thinking of all this.

If Bazner and Rovaper are indeed brothers, they seem so vastly different!

Hahaha. Poor Edmund. It seems as if Ferrin and Peridan always have the fun parts to play and the King gets the not only the worst beer (and will have to pay for all those rounds of the good stuff that Ferrin bought), but the worst women and positions in the taverns as well. Such is the life when he is far too noticeable being such a public figure.

[snitchnipped]

Thank you re: songs! More info on that in my LJ, but you've already commented on that there (which I've yet to reply to).

Ah, back to the memory bit. One of my betas wondered about Peter, too, since I kept Susan vague on his reaction to her memories. This may be something I'll need to tweak when I clean up and post elsewhere....

Peter doesn't remember pretty much anything. That's established in Dichotomy some, but I know not everyone has read/remembered anything from that story! And Peter is so stubborn, that if he doesn't remember something, he would just get angry. I think Susan gave up on the reminders with him first. Lucy was probably the first to forget everything, and waves it all off due to age. Susan tried with Edmund longer, since she's closest to him... but alas, nothing. Her siblings are in full-on Narnia mode, just as she's in full-on England mode by the time of TLB.

Poor Susan. She had to step in and be the mother when they first got there...I'm sure Helen has never been far from her mind. The mother theme struck early on in this story, since that scene was one of the first written.

And yes, Edmund! Edmund is... well, he's young. And foolish. He's 20. He's awkward... he's not quite good with the whole stealth thing. Yet. But he gets better! Ed grows a lot in this story... it's a pivotable time in his life.

[rthstewart]

So much to love in this scene. The whole idea of Susan's memory again, and the music of the song, and the sadness of the mothers, gone and not forgotten.

The memory and the role of mothers is interesting too as we compare Susan's experiences to Durah's to Grandmare Zanta and then Peridan's. It's an interesting juxtaposition -- the guilt, sadness, regret and love that they all express in different ways.

I ship Peridan and Susan very, very hard here. Really, Susan, dump these stupid Archen lords and stick to Peridan!! He's just such a great foil to Ferrin. Though the depiction of Ferrin and Susan of all people going under cover is just hilarious.

And we finally meet the elephants! though really, they are SO elliptical. I thought this interesting and frustrating -- not in a bad way. I am curious how this was part of your thinking and development of their character and your worldbuilding. How did you develop the elephant character and what were you looking at/for inspiration? Or did you pull it out of the air as I probably would?

Also, the use of the birds as characters is great. I adore Milletpeck and Beacknocker. What's a gull doing this far inland? Oh Lucy. Oh Edmund.

And so the plot thickens and we are off to buy an elephant!

[snitchnipped]

The mother theme came out of nowhere quite early on. But then again, this scene was one of the first written. And I have Peridan's backstory ALL fleshed out, too... most of which was in this scene but got taken out, focusing primarily on his mother. Which led to Susan thinking of hers, and then wait a sec, does Durah still have her mother? No, of course not! And hey! Lune's lost his wife, mother to his children, too! THERE'S A THEME. LET'S ROLL WITH IT!

Oh, you ship Susan/Peridan, hmmmmm? That's nice. Too bad he's only a knight. The thought never crosses her mind. He's a good man, though, huh? Ed has his moments in picking friends.

The Elephants and their vagueness... Hmm. It all came from Durah, I suppose... it was necessary for the plot for Durah NOT to be very forthcoming. And there was the decision of whether that was a personality trait or a species trait. Because her speech pattern, as you say, I pulled right out of the air. It seemed important that she didn't differ too much from the other Elephants. So, it was decided that there are different degrees of vagueness. Durah is the EXTREME.

And then, that's when it was fun to play with the irony of it all. Real elephants have the capability of hearing and communicating from nearly 10 miles away. Wouldn't it be hysterical if they sucked, at, well...communicating?

And yes. Beaknocker is just another one of Lucy's scrappy Birds. MUCH inspiration came from the moment in the VDT film of Eustace and the gull. That bird cracks me up every time.