The Evil Child

As the Lion's Riders and I walked into the courtyard of Cair Paravel, sweaty and tired, with one dead and three wounded, we heard the shout come up from Peter's window. "Raise the Lioness' banner!"

I looked up to see my standard being raised up from the highest tower of Cair Paravel, known as the King's Pavilion. Blue-green, with a black Tree of Protection emblazoned on its surface, my flag was added to the ranks. A dark blue pennant, with a golden Lion on it, Peter's flag, was next to Susan's, a deep purple banner with the golden Lion on it as well. Edmund's colors fluttered slightly in the soft breeze that blew: dark green, almost black, for the Western Woods to which he was coronated and for which his sword, Shafelm, Blade of the Western Woods, was named, with a silver Lion. Lucy's white banner with its silver Lion encompassed the young Queen: pure, brave, and bright against the steadily darkening sky, as night approached. Becca's placard, a lighter green than Edmund's, (for her eyes, as was mine) with its own Tree of Protection in black upon it, was within the line as well. The Lion for royalty, the Tree for Protectors. Quite symbolic, actually. The flags that were up told us who was in the Cair. If Becca and Edmund's were both gone, then we knew that they were out somewhere. It was helpful to know who was there and who wasn't.

I strode forward at the cheerful shout of welcome from the Faun on door duty. "What news, Alex? How easily did you smash 'em?"

"Not easily at all, Lonni," I returned wearily. "The bandits nearly overtook us."

"Aye, but we beat 'em sure as the High King's got sky eyes and sun hair," added a Centaur named Cratil, one of the Captains, and the third of the Cair's three sword masters. "Sky eyes" is the Centaur way of saying blue eyes, and "sun hair" is the Centaur term for blonde hair. The Dwarves call blue eyes and blonde hair "sapphire eyes" and "gold hair". The Fauns just call it blue and yellow, and the Animals call it "water eyes" and "wheat hair", which I find hilarious and Peter does not. The Nymphs call it "midnight" and "blonde". The Nymphs are a bit in love with Peter, much to his (and my) annoyance.

I took charge again as we carefully carried our wounded and the one dead to the Infirmary.

Delah instantly appeared out of nowhere and took hold of the situation. I retired to my private chambers on the second floor, to hopefully get clean and relax before another urgent matter of security turned up and I had to go out into the field again.

I heard a scratching at my door, and called unenthusiastically, "Who is it?"

"Trilth."

I smiled and stood up from where I'd flopped down onto my bed. I crossed the room and pulled the door open, looking down at the tiny black Cat that was at my feet. "Yes?"

"Peter wants to talk to you."

"Where is he?"

"His balcony."

"Thank you. Tell him I'll be looking up."

She gave a small, Cat-like laugh, and turned and trotted silently down the hallway.

Peter used Cats as his messengers, just as I used Dogs, Becca used foxes, Edmund used Ravens, Susan used Hummingbirds, and Lucy used Mice. We each had our own separate Animals that were willing to find the people we needed and give them our messages. Sometimes it was as simple as "Don't forget to give me back my dagger," and other times it was as complex as "I'm very sorry to tell you this, but I really can't come tonight. There is an urgent matter of State that I must attend to, and, you see, I really have no time to go hunting, as much as I'd like to. Please forgive me for this lapse of my memory, and know that I would love to come, but am simply not available." No matter what the message, they never failed to deliver them.

I walked out onto my balcony, and, as promised, looked up. Peter's head could be seen poking out, looking down at me. He waved and smiled.

Peter's room is directly above mine, as Becca's is directly below mine. Edmund's is above Peter's, with Susan next and Lucy last of all. Peter had asked me once why this was. My answer had been thus: "In case, my King, we are over-run." It had taken him a moment to understand what I meant. Should the Cair be taken, Becca would be killed first, much to my chagrin. She would have made enough noise though, for me to be up, ready, and, hopefully, able to warn Peter, and, through him, his siblings. Also, the fact that the staircase leading to the next floor was on the other side of the palace, the bandits would have a long way to go before they found me. And they would always go for me. I was the most dangerous thing in the castle, due to my unwanted Gift.

"How'd it go, Alex?" Peter called down.

"Come and see for yourself, Blondie!" I answered, reveling in the look of exasperation and hidden laughter on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Three wounded. You'll encourage them."

"Alright, I'm coming." And with that, he swung nimbly over the banister and dropped to the floor of my balcony.

"You'd make a good scout, Pete," I remarked as he stood up.

"Yeah, like my siblings'd let me out into the field."

I had to laugh at that. His siblings made it a point to be as protective of him as he was of them. And me.

We walked through the busy halls of Cair Paravel, hand in hand, receiving happy smiles from the Fauns, steely-eyed and gruffly admiring looks from the surly Dwarves, victorious winks from the Centaurs, and nasty sneers from the Nymphs, who were (as I mentioned before) in love with Peter, and didn't like the bold statement that our hand-holding made. In my opinion, they needed to get over it. But then again, I'm slightly less romantically inclined than the Nymphs. (At least, I hope I am.)

We walked into the Infirmary, just as one of our wounded, a Faun named Felura, who we had had to restrain because he'd gone half-mad because of a spell gone awry, be wheeled past us by Delah. Felura was screaming and thrashing against his bonds, crying and lashing out against invisible enemies. Peter motioned for Delah to stop, knowing that if he spoke, then the Faun would want to lash out at him, not knowing who he was. Peter stepped forward, careful not to let the wildly flailing hooves hit him, and took Felura's hand, gently but firmly.

He spoke in Felura's native tongue, Calormene (long story). "Muchase, Felura. Compatil surensi bebati calorti?" Peace, Felura. Where are you wounded?

The Faun spoke through his hallucinations, thinking he was back in Tashbaan. "Hauto consia seloti." Gash on shoulder.

"Sovi notis ali ife mie taid ase tiesdo aito soek, Felura?" Do you mind if I take a look at it, Felura?

"Unaso." No.

"Seri bebati." Thank you.

Peter looked up at Delah for permission. She nodded.

Carefully, he unwrapped the bandages around the Faun's shoulder. I stared at the bloody, infected slash on his shoulder. No wonder he'd gone mad.

Gently, very gently, Peter placed his hands on the Faun's shoulder, breathing long and deep, his eyes closed. His hands were glowing blue from his magic, and he spoke the Ancient Word for Heal. "Srilya."

The Faun stiffened then relaxed, as Peter's magic made him drift off into unconsciousness. Peter pulled away, panting slightly. "He'll sleep for a while. I think I got rid of the infection."

"Thank you, Peter," Delah said with her soft, warm voice.

"You're welcome, Delah. Any time."

We turned away, and I looked up at him. "Peter, it's Christmas Eve." I'd only just realized.

"So it is, Lioness. There'll be a ball tonight."

"Yep."

"So, now what?"

"I don't really know. I think I'm going to go try to go to sleep. I'm beat."

"We won though, didn't we?"

"Yeah. Barely."

"Go on, Lioness. I'll see you tonight."

I walked away, eager to get to bed. I was exhausted, and, sadly, drained of magic. But it was Christmas Eve, and in Narnia, missing out on the festivities is almost a crime.

Later that night, I strode down the steps of the Great Hall. I searched out Peter. He was in an alcove with Edmund, probably hiding from his sisters.

I slipped in beside them. "What's up?"

"Nothing really," Ed answered.

"Why are you back here?"

"Why do you think?" Edmund replied, motioning towards the gaggle of Nymphs and Calormene girls that passed the alcove. I saw Peter unconsciously shrink back into the shadows.

"One thing I hate about embassies is that they always bring girls," he said..

"Yeah," Edmund added. "They get annoying."

"They're clingy, and don't they know we've already got girlfriends?"

"Yes," I answered, "But they completely ignore that fact because they're just that desperate." I saw the girls glance over at the alcove. "And they've just spotted us."

Peter and Edmund groaned in perfect harmony as I abandoned them to their fates.

I know. I'm evil. It's a talent.

Fin.