Kareema
A/N: This is a short sequel to my much larger fic, Awakened. Think of it as a missing chapter. You can still read this if you want, but I would strongly suggest reading that story first, as you'll be pretty confused if you don't. Sorry for everyone who waited so long for this; thank you for your patience.
I.
The desert was a cruel and unusual place, filled with bleak nothingness and visions of everything one did not wish to see.
Kareema had heard rumors that it was a place cursed once, long ago, by the great Tash himself, cursed so as not to suffer fools wishing to go to the wicked, barbarian lands of the North, to convince them to stay in Calormen, where they belonged.
Now that she faced the full onslaught of the Great Desert herself, she almost believed them.
She did not know how many days she labored on foot in the desert, did not know if she would ever see an end to it, after a time, or if she was merely walking in circles to her death.
She dreamt of her brother. He was calling for her, and she followed his voice because she knew that it would lead her home. Or free, whichever came first. She thought, several times, that she might die out in this desert, and thought that this was a sort of freedom, as well, for at least she would die on her own terms, and not in the harem of the man who used her to control her brother.
There was a strange sort of satisfaction to be gained from that thought, and it forced Kareema to ignore the burning thirst in her throat, once her water skin ran dry, or the ache of hunger in her belly, once she'd eaten the last of her provisions and begun digging beneath the sand to lick up the salt there, and she continued on.
And at long last, she found water.
The little old man who lived alone on the edge of the desert was reluctant to engage her in any sort of conversation, she realized, soon after he invited her into his home. He justified this with the knowledge that the last Calormene to enter his home had abused him sorely, and he found it rather difficult to trust her now. And, indeed, he still had scars from that time, she noticed, lining his face in a pattern that was not entirely unfamiliar to her.
But still, he offered her food and water, and told her of the North, and how she might live happily there. And eventually, he seemed to understand that she meant him no harm and gave her supplies and directions to Anvard, where she might petition the King, who thought kindly of anyone in need, for sanctuary, should her master come looking for her.
She left when he offered her a look into the deep pool from which she had first drank. He was likely insane, after all, living in isolation in the desert, but even if he wasn't, she was not sure that she wanted to see what went on in the rest of the world.
II.
It had been two months since the fateful events which led to the White Witch's resurrection and everything after, and yet the nightmare of her small renewed time in Narnia had not yet left those lands. There were those who said that it never would, despite the peace treaty now between the Fell Creatures and the Four who sat upon Cair Paravel, and all the clean up which had been done in between.
It was with this in mind that Queen Susan begged her younger brother come with her, when she decided on a spur of the moment to travel to Calormen; officially to reestablish the peace treaty between their two countries after the fatal incident of the Riveiosa, so as to avoid the war that Peter so desperately wanted and the Tisroc so desperately did not, but more likely the truth, as she refused to go by ship and insisted on travelling through Anvard to see Prince Corin first, an elaborate plot to get Edmund out of the country which left him nightly with night terrors, for a little while.
At first, she asked that Edmund travel with her as far as Archenland, not entirely sure herself that he was ready for a trip to Calormen, so soon after everything that had happened, but she should have known that Edmund would be far too stubborn to leave her to the mercy of the Tisroc by herself, and had insisted on coming the rest of the way, as well.
Calormen blamed Narnia for the shipwreck of the Riveiosa, and Narnia, without the testimony of the Calormene sailors, had no proof that a Calormene warship had taken it down, but knew that it had, nonetheless. It was, perhaps, not the most peaceful situation to drag Edmund into, but Susan, unlike Peter, was no longer worried that the Tisroc would let anything happen to Edmund while he stayed there, now that he was most definitely alive.
He had downed one of his own ships to ensure that no harm came to Edmund which would be placed at his own feet, after all.
Besides, they had brought a small army along with them, to ensure Edmund's safety, as well as her own, including a small troop of Eagles, just in case.
Perhaps the time away would do him good, she believed, as Susan the Gentle could not bear to see her brother look upon the wastelands of Narnia to the North with such haunting in his eyes.
This was what she told High King Peter, when he looked at her with eyes full of such wounded betrayal that she almost wanted to retract her invitation immediately, and let Edmund stay with the safety of his brother and Narnia.
Almost.
Peter had looked none too pleased by her words, but Edmund had jumped at the chance to get away, if only for a little while; so quickly, in fact, that Susan was rather concerned.
Peter had turned his wounded look to Edmund as well, then, but Edmund, not so easily swayed by Peter's moods as Susan appeared to be, merely gave him a look and the promise that he would be in no trouble, and the High King backed down with surprising grace.
Susan would never understand her brothers.
Perhaps, she reflected, as she and Edmund finally left Narnia's borders, secure in the hands of their other siblings, it would do them both some good. And when they returned, neither would be so unhappy to do so; to come back to the place which reminded them of their frequent nightmares.
They did not speak to each other of what haunted their sleep, Susan and Edmund. Though Susan was aware that Edmund sometimes confided in Peter as she did in Lucy, never to each other. They did not need to.
For both dreamt of the same specter; Edmund of said creature stabbing a blade through his heart, Susan of stabbing a blade into the White Witch's heart and waking with blood on her hands.
She was not entirely certain who had the worst of it, though, by the dark circles that hung beneath Edmund's eyes every morning, she suspected that this was her brother.
She did not regret killing the Witch, as Edmund regretted going down into the dungeons to meet the hag, magically induced to do so or not, and yet, every night that she dreamt of that moment, she wondered why she had not allowed Peter to take the killing blow. It would have been easier, to do so, and would not have left such blood on Susan's hands, staining them with the evil that was the White Witch.
Or so her dreams told her.
In her heart, she knew that she had done it for Edmund, in the same way that Peter had almost started another war for him, even with Narnia's resources thin as they were from her most recent attack, in the same way that Lucy had spent so many sleepless nights in the library, searching for a way to bring him back home.
"Su?" Edmund's voice broke through her thoughts, and Susan the Gentle forced herself to look up and smile in Edmund's direction.
Every time she looked at him, these days, she could not help but wonder what on earth had possessed her to think that the boy in the crypt was her brother, why she had not believed Lucy.
This was Edmund. This glowing, if a bit too skinny, boy sitting across from her and glancing up from his newest book; not the dead child in the crypt, covered in blood and horror.
They looked nothing alike. Edmund, so full of life and a wisdom that sometimes made him look sad, with his bright eyes and pale cheeks, was not the sallow, pale boy they had mistaken for him on the Stone Table, brown hair so matted by blood so as to appear black, face a little too full to be her Edmund, who never ate more than a bird to begin with.
"Yes?" she smiled.
Edmund frowned at her. "Are you quite all right?"
Susan shook herself. "I'm fine, Ed. What is it?"
Edmund shrugged, glancing out the window of their carriage. "Only that we're almost there. Do you want to see Prince Corin first, and skip the formalities, or go straight to the throne room and deal with the tedious greetings of every noble in Archenland?"
Susan laughed; it was the first time she could remember doing so since this whole mess started. "I think I know which you would rather. Anything to get out of standing before a full Court for several hours on end. Formalities are not so gruesome for me as they always seem to be for you."
Edmund flushed. "Yes...well..."
Susan snorted; a very unladylike sound that had one of her ladies, a dryad named Doyna, gasp in surprise. "To Prince Corin it is, then. I have missed that little troublemaker, since last we came to visit. And I'm sure he's had much to occupy himself with, since. Of course, I shall have to then come up with some plausible reason for our missing the assemblage at Court."
Edmund smiled. "I'm sure you will manage, Sister."
As it turned out, Prince Corin was just as excited to see them as Edmund was at the thought of getting out of being introduced at Court. He dragged Susan about the castle with him, showing off every new toy he had gotten since they had last seen each other, including the sword that Edmund had sent him, some months ago, for his nameday, and filling her in on all of the news of Archenland, in his own way.
And so it was left to Edmund to explain their absence from the introductions to Court to King Lune at the supper table, when Corin begged that Susan eat at the Small Table, with him, much to the Just King's chagrin leaving him alone with the other nobles.
King Lune found the whole thing highly amusing.
III.
The Calormene woman looked out of place in the little village, her tanned skin so different from the pale, freckled faces all about her, and so Edmund noticed her immediately.
It was not so strange a sight in Anvard, for a few fortunate Calormene slaves managed to smuggle or ride their way into Archenland a year, and had set up their own little community, Edmund understood, in Anvard, under the sanctuary of the King. But they very rarely were found anywhere else in the country.
It seemed strange to him, that a Calormene woman would be so welcome in this particular village, on the border of the Great Desert, a victim of a Calormene attack several years ago. The people seemed to harbor a great anger toward Calormen still, and yet this woman was as one of their own.
It was entirely by coincidence that he did so at all, for Susan had insisted that they go down into the village so that she might peruse the cloths there, as little Prince Corin needed a new fitting and would not submit to it unless Susan promised to pick out the colors herself, and Susan, or so she claimed, needed a few new robes in the Archenland style, as well.
Edmund, naturally, had been dragged along as well. Susan seemed to be under the impression that he could do with a fitting as well as Corin, but that he could also pick out his own colors for just such an occasion.
He would have gladly left such things to Susan, for she was far more skilled at picking out colors and sizes than he, and would have done so had he not been plagued by Madame Leena, who was quite eager to make his acquaintance, and keep it for the majority of their stay in Anvard.
And so Edmund had found himself trudging through Anvard along wearily behind Susan, and when she declared that the colors of the city market were simply not good enough, though he suspected this had more to do with the fact that she was enjoying herself than the quality of the wares, and that they must go to an outlying village which was rumored to supply better pigments, he supposed he should not have been surprised.
Here was his older sister, entirely in her element for the first time since the return of the White Witch.
So, despite his ire at the fact that a simple trip to the market had turned into an all day excursion, Edmund could not bring himself to complain even once.
Not aloud, anyway.
"Come, Ed, this is the best seamstress in all of Archenland; surely there must be something here to catch your eye?" Susan asked with a teasing smile, and Edmund glanced up at his sister, startled.
Susan laughed brightly, turning to the seamstress with a conspiratorial wink. "Men," she muttered, and the woman laughed, though hers sounded somewhat more nervous than Susan's.
Then the seamstress turned to Edmund, suggesting a forest green cloak that didn't look any different from the one he was currently wearing, in Edmund's opinion, but which Susan at once fawned over, insisting they buy.
Edmund sighed, pulling out his purse full of gold, and handed over the amount required, finally looking up to meet this Calormene woman's eyes.
In truth, Edmund had not thought of his promise to the bounty hunter Mahir, on that boulder when they both thought themselves near death, since making it. He felt somewhat ashamed for it, now, looking at this woman.
She was not beautiful, by any means, but she held a certain charm about her that all Calormene women seemed to, and was passionate about her work, though there was a haunted look in her eyes which, now that he was looking at her, Edmund recognized as something akin to what he saw in his own eyes, every day he looked in a mirror.
But it was not these things which he noticed first about the seamstress, and, indeed, they seemed to pale in comparison.
She looked so like Mahir that he wondered if they had been twins, though, if they had, he doubted the enigmatic man would have mentioned it.
He felt the breath leave his body at the sight of her, almost expected her to morph before his very eyes into the bounty hunter, and suddenly Susan was touching his elbow, eyes full of concern.
"Edmund?" she whispered, and he shook his head to clear it, handing the seamstress the bag of gold and refraining from looking at her again.
Surely it was a coincidence. The Ambassador had told Mahir that his sister had escaped his hold, but what were the odds of her being here, of her sewing Edmund's clothes while he happened to be on his way to Tashbaan?
IV.
She dropped to her knees before the young king, uncertain if she were supposed to curtsey or not in this situation. A Calormene lord would have required it, but she had little experience around the barbarian lords of the north, the people she associated with here mostly of the noble line of peasantry, as she preferred it, and had heard strange enough things about these barbarians that she was not so certain.
"Our royal sister requires another lady to accompany us on our journey to Tashbaan," the Just King said, and Kareema blinked in surprise, wondering why he had would share such information with her.
"Yes, Your Majesty," she heard herself say weakly, and wondered if she were going to die today. She knew enough about the land neighboring Archenland to know that the Four were not so fickle as the Tisroc, but understood well enough the fickleness of Kings and Queens.
"She wishes for this ladies to be a native of Calormen, so that she can better understand Calormene customs and learn more about its people without upsetting anyone whilst she is there. His Majesty King Lune has spoken to us of your morality and past in Calormen." His eyes narrowed. "Would you be willing to take up this position, knowing that you may not return to this village in the end, but accompany our royal sister back to Cair Paravel, as one of her ladies, should your service please her? You may rest assured that, while in Calormen, you will be under our protection."
For a moment, Kareema thought her heart had stopped. She nearly refused, even if doing so could get her into a great deal of trouble, as she did not know these monarchs and did not wish to incur their wrath, as she had never wished to return to Tashbaan again.
But then she remembered that the Tarkaan who had been her master was dead now, died on a ship bound from Narnia, a ship that all had heard about in Anvard, as the sinking of it was rumored to have been done by the Narnians themselves, and had certainly made matters tense between the Northern countries and the South.
She had not celebrated on that day, however, for, glad as she was to know that the man would never be able to find her, Kareema had felt a hole in her heart that day, had felt a part of her die, too, and she knew without having to ask, for she did not know whom she might have asked, that her brother had been on that ship.
There was nothing for her in Tashbaan, but there was also nothing there to hurt her again. And suddenly, a part of her wanted to know what that would feel like, what it would look like to her, an escaped slave, as free in her homeland as anyone else.
From far away, she heard herself answering shakily, "It would be my honor, Your Highness."
"What is your name?" the Queen asked, voice kind and gentle beside her brother's more gruff baritones.
Kareema chanced to look up in that moment, encouraged by the Gentle Queen's smile. "Kareema, Your Royal Highness."
And, that day, the Narnian delegation to Calormen gained a helpful voice, and the Gentle Queen a kind friend. And when they returned from Calormen completely unscathed, Kareema in toe, and, it must be said, mostly responsible for this, considering the concessions that had been demanded of Calormen on behalf of the High King, none were more relieved than High King Peter himself.
The End