This story owes its genesis to Avia Tantella Scott's sad, lovely story 'What the Elephants Forgot' ( s/6373192/1/What-the-Elephants-Forgot). And I owe a huge amount to other writers, too, fanfiction being what it is. These are too many to name them all, and I expect there are influences I am not even properly conscious of, but readers will surely see traces of the worlds of cofax's work and of rthstewart's, and of some themes borrowed from rthstewart's The Stone Gryphon. Thanks to all of you, and of course to C.S. Lewis!

o-o-o-o-o

The Ivory Merchants

"And they entered into friendship and alliance with countries beyond the sea and paid them visits of state and received visits of state from them..."

Chapter One: First contact

Oddly, the merchants had come before the ambassadors; it was merchant-traders who had brought the first awareness to the four monarchs of newly-delivered Narnia, that other countries lay outside their borders, and across the seas. The merchants had begun to appear late in that strange, confused summer, several months after the defeat of the White Witch, when the Four had completed their first survey of the kingdom, and were beginning to know their subjects, and their responsibilities.

It was a shock, and a little disconcerting, to realise that the world was so much greater than they had known, and they struggled to assimilate the information they were gaining, and to memorise the strange new names - Archenland, Telmar, Galma, Calormen... and the apparent locations of each place - to the south, to the west, over the sea, and beyond the great desert. ("There's a desert?" Lucy had gasped, astonishment overcoming their usual caution. The Calormene spice-merchant had smiled - kindly enough, but Susan also noted, with the beginnings of unease, that there had been a hint of secret satisfaction in that smile.)

But the Calormene had been smooth in his speaking, and utterly, ungraspably persuasive in his representations of the benefits of trade, and the Four had found themselves nearly agreeing to his very moderate requests, almost before they knew it. The requests were so modest, indeed, that it would have felt churlish to refuse - he asked only to be allowed to bring goods to the Cair Paravel wharfs once each year, in late autumn, he suggested, and to offer them there for sale to any who would buy.

There would be, he had stressed reassuringly, no incursion into Narnia beyond the wharf itself, and then, while Peter was still hesitating, on hearing the word "incursion" - had seemed to drop the request altogether, while he summoned attendants to bring forward a succession of chests, each to be opened it with a flourish, revealing a bewilderingly numerous array of spices, of aromatic and many-coloured seeds, roots and barks - and powders, and dusts, and unguents and balms, healing ointments, perfumes and oils, essences, distillations...

From behind his throne, Peter had heard Windseer's quiet murmur, that some of these were indeed of great merit, for healing, for rubbing heat into old and winter-struck bodies, and for easing pain and bringing sleep; they were difficult to obtain in Narnia, he had said. If the merchant heard that, he gave no sign, but, gesturing to all the panoply of healing, delicacy and luxury, as if to indicate that that array pleaded his case more than words could do, murmured with lowered eyes that benevolence was a stream which watered many gardens, and that the wisdom of rulers was a light to... his voice sank away into a complacent murmuring, and it seemed that he was understanding that he had already been granted the permission he had asked.

"We cannot guarantee that any of our people would wish to buy, though, Master Trader," Peter warned, uncertainly.

The merchant bowed deep, with lowered eyes, his hands sunk open at his sides, in a gesture at once of supplication and acceptance. "To be permitted to offer is all I ask of Your Majesties' so-greatly-admired munificence... " he began, and seemed on the point of beginning his retreat, assuming both permission to trade, and permission to depart.

Behind the throne Windseer stamped one hoof, edgily, and Tumnus looked across warningly; this trader was on the verge of failing in respect to the new rulers of Narnia.

Peter spoke hurriedly. "Master Spicer! We have not yet given that permission! We require that..." He thought quickly; the man must not be allowed to think that he had held the initiative throughout the interview, that Narnia's rulers were mere biddable children in matters of trade. "You must go tomorrow to our harbourmaster, who will determine where and when you will be allowed to offer goods for sale on our wharves. Initially, this will be for one day only in the year, and on that day Narnian spicers will also offer goods for sale."

There was no harbourmaster. Only the rulers themselves and their personal advisors understood how scanty was the staffing of Narnia's government, still, after months of hard work to construct some sort of administration. But of those advisors the two standing closest to the throne would be quick to pick up the cue, and to cover the deficiency, Peter knew.

"Master Tumnus! Please escort this petitioner to our guest-quarters, and advise him of when he may meet the Harbourmaster. He is to remain in the guest-quarters until that meeting."

Tumnus bowed, with an added inclination of his head, to convey to Peter that he understood that he was to find someone to carry out the role of harbourmaster, at least until the spice-trader had gone. The actual trading, Peter supposed, would need to be delayed for some months - for surely no Narnian spicers would be prepared for trade so soon?

But the audience, thank heavens, was over. Windseer was proclaiming their majesties' departure, and all four could stand, nod acknowledgement to the courtesies of the assembled guests, merchants, petitioners and well-wishers, and - at last! - retreat to their private rooms.

o-o-o-o-o

"Well, that went well!" Peter commented bitterly.

"It did, actually." Susan's assessment was, as ever, both considered and reassuring. "It's okay. He tried it on, and you slapped him down. It's okay. Narnia is no worse off tonight than it was this morning!"

She grinned at him, and reluctantly he half-smiled back.

"Narnia is no worse off tonight..." It had become a catch-phrase between the two of them, half-serious, as they tried to consider if they were actually filling their responsibility for the well-being of this country, and half a reminder that they needed not to take too stressfully every small blunder in fighting their way to being the monarchs Narnia needed. The younger pair seemed able to take their responsibility more lightly. Edmund was serious enough, certainly, but he tended to dive straight to the assessing of situations, and consideration of plans of action, not to dwell on the small details of each day's encounters; Lucy seemed able to be totally involved in each moment, energetically, joyfully, and sometimes furiously, dealing with the reality, and letting shadowy imagined possibles pass her by.

She spoke now, with forthright confidence. "It's true about a spice-trade being necessary - or useful, anyway. Windseer was in favour of it, and he should know."

"Yes, but... I've gone and said that Narnia will have spices and things to trade with, though. Right fools we'll look if we can't come up with anything except mint sauce!"

"Nothing wrong with mint sauce!" Edmund grinned - new peas and minted potatoes had been their main meal that day.

"There's plenty," said Susan briskly. "juniper berries... I bet they don't have those! Caraway seed!"

"And there was medicines, too," Lucy offered. "There are lots of plants they use here for healing."

"Yes. And it doesn't even matter if they do already have the stuff we've got, what's important that we can show that we can get along without their trade, that we don't need these other countries. I was thinking today, while Pete was doing the talking, that it's not just trade deals happening."

"How do you mean?"

"Think about it, Ed! Even if they are just merchants, not ambassadors, they're still the first contact we've had outside of Narnia, and how we deal with them will set the tone, more or less, for how things go on when we do get ambassadors."

Edmund frowned, considering. "Then would it be a good idea to stop all visits until we can be sure we're doing it right? I mean, you don't trade without treaties and things, do you? What if we find out later that they had our permission, but not their home governments?"

"The point is, they're here, and we have to deal with them." Peter pressed his lips together, in the way that his siblings already knew meant determination to complete an unpleasant task.

Ed tried once more. "Maybe we should just declare that we won't receive any trade delegations for a time, then."

"Won't help with the ones already here. A ship came in from Galma this afternoon, and those men from the west are still to be seen. So... that's tomorrow morning gone, anyway, I expect. How's about we leave it for now, and take some time for... anything that's not trade?"

And then, to Edmund's protesting scowl: "We'll meet in the morning, the four of us, and Windseer and Tumnus, and see if we can rough out some ground rules. That do for now?"

Edmund's eyes met Susan's and the scowl vanished. "I'll have something in writing by then! And if I don't miss my guess, our thoughtful sister is also making plans!"

"Just might be, Ed. Just might be!"

o-o-o-o-o

It was a good morning's work. The main points of a trade policy were sketched out, and a policy for dealing with visits. It was agreed that no further trade delegation would be received until after the following spring (the first not-magic spring, as Lucy said) and Ravens were sent to each border crossing and port to spread word of that decision.

Edmund had drawn up tables showing the goods offered so far, of the items which might be desirable; he had already made notes of all information they had gleaned about the countries from which the traders had come. Susan came with plans for a trade fair, to be held for a full week in midsummer, when all future potential traders would be invited to display goods under the watchful walls of Cair Paravel, before any further trade arrangements would be accepted. Narnia's strengths, economically, were scrutinised, and arrangements made to have representatives of the most likely trades and produce brought for further conference, to prepare for the trade fair.

"It's been good," Peter acknowledged at the morning's end. "We should set up regular meetings like this, to think ahead - and get advice, too." He nodded his thanks to the two subject-advisors who had joined them.

"Your Majesty might give thought to reinstating the Councils of old," Windseer responded; then in answer to Peter's enquiring look, "The monarchs were always wont to have a Council, Sire. Narnians of all kinds contributed to it."

"Trees, as well? Naiads?" Lucy asked.

"Not always, Your Majesty, "but always some water-dweller, and some earth-dweller. Centaurs served as earth-dwellers, I know, from time to time."

"To represent all types of Narnians," Edmund commented. "It's a good idea. Peter?"

"Yes. We'll talk further of it, Windseer. Are there records of how it was set up?" The Centaur looked his regret. "Well... we'll look into it. And shall we take a break and deal with the last two lots after lunch?"

The last two delegations, from Galma in the east, and from Telmar in the west - a country whose borders no-one of the Narnian advisors had been able to clearly delineate: "Let's start with the Galman," Edmund suggested. "Once we've finished with him, we'll be able to take our time, and find out a bit more about Telmar."

o-o-o-o-o

Hoom and Gul did not move their eyes from the Four when these strange young-seeming rulers re-entered, nor when they were signed to stand back, and it was the Galman who was called to the presence to put his petition. To be able to watch a foregoer was to lie downwind, and much advantage could accrue from being second to speak; without looking at each other, the Telmarine brothers knew that both were satisfied to wait. They stood stolidly, immovably watching, therefore, as the tall Galman strode confidently to stand before the dais.

From where they stood, they could hear that this session began, as had that of the days before, with courteous enquiries about the trader's journey - simple, affable conversation, but Hoom judged that the Four were alert enough to glean from it information as well as pleasantry. Too, the words of the Galman should be stored for Telmarine use. Galma, it seemed, was three days' sailing away -"we'd be quicker sailing once we get trade established again, Your Majesties. We were just in the first ship we could find willing to make the voyage west, it being summer, and the main of the merchant fleet off away east to the Seven Islands... "

Much of the conversation which followed was too low to catch, but information came in more than speech. Gul noted the Galman's constant covert glancing at Tumnus and Windseer; so Fauns and Centaurs were unknown on Galma, then? How this could be useful he would leave to Hoom to define, but it was good to know more about the world that Telmar was just beginning to be able to re-enter, at any rate. And there was a tale, too, told by the Galman's garb and kit; if it had not the soft brightness of the haughty Calormene merchant's, clearly Galma was solid in less showy wealth, and richer far than the impoverished riddle that was witch-defeating Narnia. Galma wore not silk, but still, the signs of wealth were there; his boots and his belt were finely-tooled and shining leather, not rough-hide.

And now the Galman had summoned from behind a servant to bring for presentation some gift to the Four. Hoom sidled a glance at it as it passed - a wooden contrivance of some sort, of dark fine-grained wood, and inlaid with some stone, it seemed, which shone in gentle colour, like clouds at full-moon rising. A gift which seemed to please the Four greatly; Hoom watched closely; they seemed to be looking delightedly while the trader showed off how it opened and folded, and refolded in a new appearance. Some device for travelling , or to travel with, it seemed, for: "We have heard in far Galma of your great and triumphal progress around your new dominions."

Well, so they had in Telmar! And this Galman gift may seem to please them, but Telmar's gift - though carried in rough-tanned hide, not dainty leather! - was surely of much greater value.

Now the High King moved the conversation on to matters of trade. Hoom noted that he spoke more clearly now; to be heard by the whole Hall. It was a good sign; nothing was to be agreed behind the hand, it seemed.

"We see clearly that Galma produces items of great beauty and delicacy; was it such as this that you thought to bring to Narnia as merchandise, Trader?"

The Galman's voice rang with buoyant assurance. "My business here would be to buy, not to sell, Majesty!"

"You are well-informed, then, of what Narnia has to offer Galma," the king responded coolly. Hoom marked that he did not stoop to ask what commodity could have brought a merchant so far on the chance of spending, not earning; this king kept the extent of his knowledge, if indeed he knew, as his own secret.

"Ah, Majesty! the soft warmth of not just our Duke's courtiers but of many of the wealthiest Tarkaans in Calormen, on cold desert nights, has come from Narnia. It has been a luxury trade, and one which I hope may resume with Your Majesties' approval and blessing."

"Approval and blessing will need a more precisely-worded request, however."

That there were sheep-runs on the high plains of Narnia as there were in Telmar, Hoom knew, but would a merchant come so far, and bring a choice gift purely to dicker about a trade in wool?

Now the king leant forward, and fixed the merchant with a sharp smile.

"Come, sir! Name precisely what it is you wish; and," he seemed to Hoom to pounce with a sudden leap. "what of those other ships 'away east to the Seven Islands'? Do you come on behalf of yourself alone, or of other merchants from Galma?"

The trader's broad back jerked, and his warm-hued neck flushed a little warmer. "Yes, you're.. you're right. The others don't know I'm here. But, Majesty," the words came now in an eager rush, "they've had a grip on the trade all these years, and surely now, with a new reign, it is a good time to open it up again?"

High King Peter kept a blandly encouraging silence, and the trader persisted: "If you were thinking of granting a monopoly again..."

"Mmmmm...? a monopoly...?"

"Your Majesty! I could arrange it all! The hunting, the skinning...the tanning. The best prices... bear-pelts, the ermines, beaver-skins... " He was speaking now very rapidly; his voice even trembled with the excitement of his greed, his rapacity... He seemed to gasp as he spoke, with his avidity. But then something... a rigidity in the room, perhaps, penetrated his obliviousness. His speech died on his lips.

There was a terrible silence.

The Four, enthroned - no, the youngest had risen, and stood gripping, hard - Hoom saw that her knuckles were bone-white - the shoulder of the High King. The eyes of the other Queen were boring into the Galman merchant, skewering him, inescapably; exposed, analysed and utterly rejected. The younger King was breathing rapidly, his lips pressed together as if on some deathly sickness.

The High King Peter spoke, stiffly, and very coldly. He seemed to Hoom suddenly much older than he had seemed minutes earlier; his voice had lost its lightness, and the words ground out of him like two stones grinding together.

"We - do - not - trade in the bodies - the skins - of our subjects, and our Cousins. Leave."

Hoom saw that the Galman hesitated, seemingly on the verge of protest, but the High King bore him down, inexorably.

"Take - your - filthy, blood-stained hands - out of our court, and out of our kingdom."

"He is a murderer," came in a high, tightly-controlled whisper from the younger Queen. "He asked our approval..."

The High King raised one hand and put it on hers, but did not speak to her, still addressing himself to the trader.

"Had you not revealed that you yourself have not so traded in this country - that others have "had a grip on the trade", very assuredly you would now be on trial for murder of our Cousins and well-beloved subjects. Get you gone, and make it known to all Galma, and all lands - this vile traffic is no more. Guards!"

Two long, rangy forms which had lain unnoticed by the door rose now - Hoom stiffened, startled - and padded softly closer.

"Take them to their ship and see them sail before one more hour has passed."

The guards closed in, with low, deep growling. The Galman gasped. "Your Majesty! We need to provision... to take on water..."

"Get - you - gone."

The guards snarled with sudden terrifying savagery, and the Galman shrank back, and turned and scuttered from the Hall.

The High King watched with hard eyes, then spoke, sharply and decisively.

"We will... prorogue this reception. Men of Telmar! Be with us in two hours' time. My Royal Sisters, Brother..." He stood, and left and right they stood with him, all very tightly controlling, it seemed, whatever it was that had moved them. As one, they nodded acknowledgement to the courtesies of the Hall, and then all Four left together.

o-o-o-o-o

The door was shut and they were alone, and in an instant Lucy was against Peter's chest, the strong felted wool of his jerkin muffling the first sounds of her anguish; he cradled the back of her head with one hand, the other arm wrapped close around her, in helpless attempt at comfort. Susan swung around and caught at Edmund, and pulled them all close together, one tight huddle of sorrow at this knowledge of what Narnia had endured.

It was many minutes before Lucy's sobbing quietened, before they all began to breathe a little more normally, and the tightness of their clinging began to break apart. Still keeping her face pressed against her brother's chest, Lucy spoke, in half-choked horror. "He said beav..." She could not even say it. "He w-wanted to... he asked our blessing..."

"It's okay, Lu" Susan reached out one hand to caress her sister's head, sweeping the hair back a little from the averted face. "It doesn't mean anything at all, to bless something so horrible. He was just speaking nonsense words to say that..."

Peter looked at her. "You weren't as surprised as the rest of us?"

She frowned, and mouthed, rather than spoke, her reply. "Tell you later. Something Mrs Beaver said."

He nodded a troubled acquiescence, and switched his attention to Lucy.

"Come on, Lu. Look up! It's all finished now and we will never let that happen again."

"No." She burrowed in a little more, then risked one glance up at him. "You were...scary!"

"I was a bit out of it, lost control a bit ... I wouldn't want to scare you, Lu..."

"You were," interrupted Edmund, with fierce deliberation, "bloody magnificent."

"Steady up, Ed!"

"No - Lucy and I can stand to hear that much 'bad language'!" Susan looked at the High King, measuringly. "And furthermore... " she let a loving, very knowing and amused sister's smile complete her sentence: he's right.

The rest of the two hours' break went in rest-and-repair. Faces washed. A brew of hot lemon-and-honey, breathing in the fumes, and then slow sipping, slowly coming back to equanimity.

Consultation with Tumnus, and learning of the terrible devastation among the Beavers of Narnia ("and that's why they're pretty much on their own, now. I think it's part of why they put everything they had at risk to protect you. It was as if they had another chance to save their own..."). From Windseer, news of how so many Beasts had fled to the west or the north, as Humans had fled east over the sea, or south to Archenland.

"We will call them back," said Lucy.

"We need to be sure of them, first," said Edmund.

And then a quiet time with just four again, together.

"Like a Lioness, little sister? A Queen?"

"Yes. I can do it."

"Everyone? Aslan's given it to us to do, so..."

"So we do it. We get it, Pete. Let's go."

And then out again.

o-o-o-o-o

"Let the men of Telmar approach."

No sign remained of the storm of two hours earlier. The four monarchs set their eyes with studied calm on the approaching Telmarines, rough men, and roughly accoutred , but plainly doing their best to adjust to the ways of the Narnian court. The leader seemed ill-at-ease with the ordinary courtesies of meeting, and awkwardly moved to more direct matters.

"Ahhh... We've brought a ..a gift, Your Highness...es. It's...very valuable."

"We welcome you for yourself, and for your people's willingness to engage with ours," said Peter. "We do not look for gifts."

"It's very valuable," the man repeated. He kept a close grip on the small object he held in his hands - not two handspans long, Peter gauged, and barely one wide - perhaps a palmwidth high, or a little more. The man was not a seasoned or graceful negotiator; he held it as if it would be given as a prize - or as a bribe. Peter consciously crushed the irritation he felt, set himself to hear patiently what the man had to say.

"We were wanting... it's important for Telmar to be able to travel through Narnia. The Troubles were hard on us as well as on Narnia, Your... Highnesses."

Peter leaned forward encouragingly. The man stumbled on.

"We ...it's a hard road to try to get over the southern mountains to Calormen. We... Narnia cuts us off from the coast!" He sounded as if he resented the very shape of the land - well, there was nothing to be done about that!

"I mean, that's... We..." He straightened himself, and came to the heart of his petition - evidently a speech got by rote. "We, Men of Telmar, rejoice with you that the frozen roads and rivers are open again. We request safe passage through your land and by your rivers to your ports, for our trading."

Well, so he had made his speech. Peter moved to draw out further information from the man. "And what goods would you take to trade, Master Merchant?"

The man seemed to take a desperate resolution. He stepped forward, and went down on one knee, offering with both hands to Peter the thing that he had carried, and till this moment had held tight.

"If we can get permission just to cross..." he began, then rethought. "This is a free gift to you, Your Majesty."

But you hope very much that it will have all the effect of a bribe, Peter thought wearily. However, the man's clumsiness should sway the decision no more than the Calormene's suavity.

"Our decision does not rest on gifts made," he stated, dispassionately. "You will be very welcome to leave it or to take it, as you will." Then, as the man seemed a little disheartened, "well, let us see what Telmar has brought to show to us."

The man's eyes flashed. He quickly undid the wrappings around the object and thrust it towards the king.

It was a small casket, standing on a low silver filigree base, and with softly gleaming silver cornerpieces encasing sides of old, carved, ivory and finely-stippled silver-grey leather, and a gently curved top - a breath-takingly beautiful work of the maker's art. It bespoke - and, unconsciously, Peter reached out towards it, took it - it bespoke love, as well as art, in the making. It was not new, clearly a treasure of many years, perhaps centuries.

Peter turned it in his hands, mesmerised. Nothing in the outward appearance of these men had hinted at such delicacy, or appreciation of beauty. He was conscious of Susan at his side, leaning forward, and shifted, holding the casket so that she could see it more closely; she, of them all, would be gladdened by its perfect artistry.

There was a silence; he looked sideways to her, and their eyes met in agreement, smiling, and a little regretful. The Witch had left very little of such made loveliness in Narnia. But...

"This gift..." Queen Susan spoke, slowly, and very gently. "... it is a great treasure of your people?"

Peter smiled again at her gentleness; she loved the casket, but her deep feeling for others and their needs over-rode that. He spoke, to make more plain what she had hinted. "We could not take from Telmar something which we see well is a very precious heritage."

There was a small noise from behind the throne, a shifting of hoofs, a Centaur-tail swishing. "That's Narnian Dwarf work!" Windseer breathed. "The silversmiths of the west..."

"No. No..." the man was answering Susan's question, his eyes flicking anxiously from her to the High King. "It's Narnian. It's very old. That's ivory from Narnian elephants."

"Narnian elephants?" Susan paused; her hand fluttered above the casket.

"Narnian Elephants?" Lucy's voice was lit by an incredulous joy. "I didn't know there were Elephants in Narnia!"

"There are none," Windseer's low voice came from behind. "There are no Elephants in Narnia. Do you not think, Majesties, that if there were such they would have assembled to do honour to your coronation, to honour Aslan?"

"But... not now, maybe, but it might be like you said, that they left Narnia because of the Winter?" Lucy eagerly. "We could tell them it's over, and call them back to us!"

"Your Majesty," the Centaur spoke warningly; clearly he felt that this was not a discussion to have in open assembly. "There have been old legends and tales, but alas, I have no knowledge that such creatures ever did exist in Narnia, or not as thinking, talking Beasts."

"If I may speak..." Tumnus' light rapid voice, a little anxious, a little hopeful.

"Speak, Tumnus."

"There was..." Mr Tumnus' eyes were squeezed shut, and his hands were pressed against each side of his head.

"There was an old rhyme... my father used to gather folklore, that sort of thing. He was a scholar really... he used to try to get me to remember all sorts of old rhymes..."

They waited, eyes fixed on him as he rocked to and fro, murmuring scattered phrases.

"Six sages, six in kind... no. That can't be right, should be seven... 'Sharp-eyed Ravens...' I know they were in it... Last... Lumbers... Yes! Yes... listen, majesties! It's what we were talking about, the Council!"

He leapt up, and stood erect, with his hands clasped behind his back, and for a moment they saw him as the little faun he had once been, reciting for his long-gone father:

"Lumbers large, the last to council,
"Elephant of well-won wisdom
"Came to join at Aslan's calling..."

"That's from the Song of the First Council! There was an Elephant on the First Council, Majesties. And so the Narnian Elephants were Talking Elephants!"

"Thank you, Mr Tumnus." Peter glanced across at Lucy. Her eyes were shining, and her lips were parted in breathless excitement. He was swept by relief and gladness; whatever the current reality of the elephants, the thought of them had at least helped her past the anguish of the day's dealings. Well, for her sake, and to assuage Windseer's unease...

"Sir Trader, this matter concerns our people and must now be dealt with privately. Take your rest tonight, and know both your gift and your visit are welcome. We will talk more of these trade routes with you tomorrow."

o-o-o-o-o

o-o-o

A/N: And there it is... a first chapter, and now it's over to the readers! (I would very much like to hear how you felt about it, of course.) For those much-appreciated readers who have asked: this isn't the Resistance-world story; there are a couple of those simmering, but I had to deal with this one first!