~Author's Note: Regular Credits Apply. Also I have no idea what things look like, etc. in Calormen. This is all my imagination.~

Two Weeks Earlier

"Caria! Come. We're leaving."

Caria glanced up from the low fence where she sat. A shaded carriage had been fetched for her father and he leaned out the door, beckoning impatiently for her. He gave her a stern look as she turned around and deliberately made a show of sliding off the fence and slowly picking up her satchel. The dark-haired boy beside her nudged her in the ribs as she stood up.

"You better go," he laughed, grinning at her clear displeasure. "You know how he is when you've kept him waiting."

"Stop it." She squirmed, hitching the bag over her shoulder. "He's upset with me today, and 'tis all your fault."

"My fault?" the boy repeated, sliding down from the fence to face her. "I merely occupied your time while he talked business." He waved a hand dismissively, as though the notion of the girl getting into trouble was ill-founded.

Caria shoved his shoulder, ignoring her father as he snapped at her again. "Quiet," she warned. "I was meant to be a part of his discussions today. He wants me to take his place someday." She spoke softly; she feared if the words were overheard, the repercussions would be swift and harsh by the people the likes of which her father spent half of his time discussing "business." They did not like her father and they certainly did not like his less-than-enthusiastic protege.

"His business is vulgar," the boy said with a despairing glower. "It does not suit you."

Caria risked a slight grin. "I know it, and he knows as well," she whispered. "He tries to change my mind."

The boy rested a hand on Caria's shoulder. It was a tender touch, meant to reassure Caria, but she stiffened under the watchful gaze of her father nearby. "I pray he doesn't," he said quietly.

"Caria! Now!"

The boy dropped his hand quickly, as though just remembering who was watching them. He turned so his back was facing Caria's father, and gave the girl a sly grin from the side. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder and, hitching up her skirts, clambered over the fence in a rather unladylike fashion. Thankfully her mother, nestled into the carriage, had not seen. Rather, her father went red in the face and disappeared inside the caravan. She tossed the satchel into the caravan and pulled herself up, dropping into the seat across from her parents. The attendant shut the door and climbed up onto the bench behind the horses, spurring them on.

"Caria, dear," her mother said with that dazzling smile characteristic of most Calormene noble women. Her family was not noble, but they were important dignitaries, holding a special rank under the Tisroc, may he live forever. They indulged in the luxurious life of those above the general peasantry and mere merchants, and her mother was one of the most beautiful woman Caria had even seen, even more so than the Tisroc's own daughters. "I bought this for you from the market." With a smile, she produced a small glass vial from the folds of her gown and held it out to Caria.

Caria took it carefully and turned it over in her hands. She recognized the craftsmanship and, with a thoughtful smile playing across her lips, she unstoppered it and sniffed the lotion. It was a strong, bitter scent, with hints of rose and cinnamon.

"I know you have been wanting this lotion since our last visit," her mother continued, pleased by her daughter's reaction.

Caria nodded, delighted that her mother had remembered. It had been many months since their last visit to the capital, and that for a yearly celebration in honour of the Tisroc himself. Caria had been wandering the market, whose best wares were presented that day. The merchant told her this lotion would perfect any flaw on Caria's skin with one dab, and it was not all too terrible to smell.

"That?" her father exclaimed. "It's made from camel dung, you must know." He scoffed.

"I know," Caria said slowly, corking the bottle again. "But also a delightful soap, milk, rose, and cinnamon. Cinnamon, father," she repeated, watching him keenly. Cinnamon was a rare spice in these lands. "This is a rare gift. Thank you, mother."

"You should not be wasting money on such a…" her father said, looking at Caria consideringly, "disappointment."

Her mother drew in a breath. Caria could see she wanted to reprimand her husband, but instead she put on a charming smile and shook her head. "Caria is young still, Visov. She has much to learn."

Caria revealed no reaction to her father's insult, having heard them almost daily since it was revealed her mother would bear no more children and not give her father a son. Being called a "disappointment" was mild in comparison to some other choice words he used when truly angry at her.

"She is learning," Visov remarked sharply. "She is supposed to be learning. Instead she blatantly ignores my wishes and embarrasses me in front of other delegates. This is a delicate business, Caria. I cannot have you making a fool of me."

Caria sat back against the seat, holding the bottle firmly between her hands. "I do not want to be a part of your 'business,' father," she said through her teeth. "It is, how would you say, unbecoming." She threw her learning back in his face with a dark grin. She was not a lady and she was not a son. She had no interest in all things ladylike and her father's business disgusted her. She would not continue it for him.

"It is all you will have, daughter," he said. "When you marry, your husband will do all the hard work for you. You would not have to raise a finger and all the men in this land will be falling down at your feet in service."

"In servitude," Caria muttered. "I will not raise slaves like lambs for slaughter. And I will not marry whomever you throw my way."

Visov leaned across the small compartment and cracked his hand against his daughter's cheek. His wife made a small noise of protest as he stared at Caria darkly. "You will have no choice. Understand?"

His look dared her to argue.

"Perfectly, father," she said, matching his gaze. A bright flush reddened her cheek, but she would not satisfy her father by rubbing the lotion on the mark.

They travelled away from the city in silence, Caria's mother fusing uselessly with her silken gown for long minutes until the road turned bumpy. Caria hated to put her in such a position, but her and her father's views were so different that they often fought. Caria loved her mother, sometimes wishing she could be as composed as her when tempers flared. Her mother knew when to keep silent, and Caria had never developed that skill.

And other times, it angered Caria that her mother was so compliant.

"Caria," her mother said, turning from the window to smile again at her. Her smile was so easy and the care in her eyes was bright. "Let us see what you bought today." She gestured at Caria's leather satchel next to her.

"Oh," Caria said, reaching for the bag. "Vaman and I did not go the market. We went elsewhere and found these. The man was giving them away freely. Are they not beautiful?" She pulled out pieces of faded parchment, on which were painted a series of landscapes in bright pigments. The pictures - high mountains in grey and white, low valleys in green and yellow, and vast shores in blue and gold - had caught Caria's eye immediately and the elderly man offered to let her have them, if she promised to treasure them always and present them in her home where they would be visible to all. She promised, and even tried to pay for them. The man refused stubbornly and she thanked him profusely. Later, she returned with Vaman and a hot drink from the market for the man.

"These are most beautiful," her mother agreed, looking through them. "He would accept no money for them?"

Caria shook her head. "He was most kind, mother. And these paintings...do such places exist? So vibrant and lovely?"

Visov scoffed again. "Not likely. Krista, do not indulge her fantasies. It will do her no good."

"I would like to believe so," Krista said with a small smile to her husband. "Perhaps you would have to travel far to see such places."

"I would want to make that journey one day," Caria said quietly. "Across the Great Desert, to Narnia! Perhaps these paintings are from there!"

"Perhaps so," Krista said kindly.

Grumbling, Visov snatched the paintings from his wife and crumpled them in his hands, tucking them away in his own bag. "The last anyone heard of Narnia, it would cursed in eternal winter," he hissed. Caria's eyes went wide as she watched her treasures become ruined by her father's hands. "When we get home, Caria, you are not to leave the house for a sennight hence. You acted selfishly and foolishly today and the time indoors will teach you a valuable lesson."

Caria ground her teeth, looking away angrily. She was used to her father locking her away in her room, and that is not what made her angry. That he had taken her pictures and ruined them caused tears to well in her eyes. It would only have been worse if he had tore them to pieces.

The carriage rolled over loose stones as it travelled down a worn path between stubby trees towards a compound of similar-looking houses set far back from the main road. The land lots were separated from each other by a line of short trees and bushes and one house was indistinguishable from the next. They were all low, with flat roofs, and arches in front of the doors. The caravan stopped in the wide circular path, from which other paths led to the five houses in the compound. Caria was last out of the caravan, carefully placing the glass vial into her bag. Her father and mother were walking quickly down the path towards their house at the far end of the compound. Visov was talking loudly, gesturing, as Krista pulled her bright scarf around her neck, smiling and nodding attentively. Caria followed them, turning back and waving as the carriage attendants spurred the horses down the lane.

Inside, Caria moved into her room at the back without a word to her father or mother. Her nightclothes had been laid out for her on her bed, with a fresh bowl of warm water by the foot of her bed for washing up. The smell of sweet bread wafted through the house, carried up by the gentle breeze that stole through the open windows. Tossing her bag on the bed, Caria took out the vial and placed it upon the dresser before turning to the window. She pulled back the thick, richly coloured curtains, and leaned out, taking a deep breath. The small garden beneath her window was well-tended by her mother and the gardener and the scents of the flowers within chased away the lingering smells of the market. She looked out towards the farthest reaches of the compound - a new house was being built towards the back, where the land dipped suddenly into a dry valley. The new house had a wall around it with three levels; each level of the wall had a small ledge that overlooked the cavern below. Ivy and thick bushes grew in the spaces between the rocks, shielding view of the wall from the house. Caria had her mind set to walk along that wall and tempt fate, and she decided the adventure would be best suited for after nightfall, when her father would be asleep and not catch her.

Dinner was served shortly before nightfall and Caria took it in her room. After finishing, without a word to her parents, she moved into the library. The room was her favourite, full of rich tomes and brightly coloured maps. Many of the books were historical volumes, but Caria did not mind the history lessons. They told, briefly, of how Narnia was founded by the Great Lion, but the majority of the book focused solely on Calormene history, with many references to the Tisroc, may he live forever, and their god Tash, who was said to be the Great Lion's father and real Creator of all in this world. Caria enjoyed reading these books but tonight she had her mind set on one topic: Narnia itself. She imagined the paintings were of places in Narnia from before the cursed winter and she wanted to see these places herself. So she grabbed a rome, curled up in a chair, and began reading.

Some time into the night, Caria was startled awake by one of the servants attempting to drape a rough blanket over her shoulders. The tapers were burning low and the book she had been reading had upended on the floor. The young maid stepped back quickly, apologizing for having startled m'lady. Caria smiled at her and tugged the blanket around her shoulders as she set her feet on the floor. She placed the book back on the shelf and turned to the girl.

"Would m'lady like some tea before she retires?" the girl asked, bowing her head.

"No, thank you, Fanna," Caria said. "Can you keep a secret for me?"

The girl looked up sharply, not quite sure how to respond. "Yes, of course, m'lady."

"I am going outside for a walk. If my father wakes, tell him I returned to my chambers."

Fanna looked confused, but nodded. "Will you like an escort? It is quite dark out tonight. The stars are not shining."

Caria shook her head. "I am not going far. Light a candle in my window and I will find my way back. I will return before daybreak."

"Yes, m'lady," Fanna said, bowing her dark head again. She followed Caria back to her room, looking surprised when Caria discarded the blanket, doned a cloak, and pushed aside the curtain, hitching her leg over the sill. "M'lady, should you not use the door?" she whispered.

"My father is not to know I've left the house," Caria said. "The door will wake him."

"M'lady," Fanna said hesitantly. She disliked going against her master's wishes. "Are you not allowed to leave, by your father's wishes?"

Caria smiled at Fanna and slipped off the window, bounding across the lawns before the maid could persuade her otherwise. She glanced back to see Fanna was lighting the candle as she had asked.

Turning away from the house, Caria deeply breathed in the fresh air. It smelled of fresh flowers, baked bread, and rich soil. Caria had always like the smell of Calormene air. It smelled just like the city - always fresh, always different. It was sweet and spicy and made her mouth water.

Under the cover of nightfall, Caria slipped between the bushes marking the boundary of her house and carefully made her way to the wall surrounding the house being built at the far end of the compound. Caria knew that even though the houses were close together, trespassing was a high offence, and she was wary of the repercussions should she be caught. But no one resided in this house yet and she believed those laws did not apply to places with no owners.

Still, she made sure no one was within sight as she stepped out onto the wall. The valley dipped away suddenly, revealing a long fall down a steep slope into a dry riverbed. Craggy rocks scoured the bottom and Caria held her breath. Her mother would be appalled to see her now. Smiling to herself, Caria walked carefully along the curve of the wall.

Turning the corner towards the back of the house, Caria stopped abruptly, catching her breath. A soldier in the Tisroc's army faced away from her, sword glinting in the dim light of the moon as a cloud overhead passed by, bathing the whole compound in a dull light.

Quietly Caria turned around. He hadn't spotted her yet - perhaps she could still get away.

At that moment, another soldier came around the bend in front of her. He spotted her immediately and drew his sword. Caria bit her tongue, glancing over her shoulder. The ring of his sword had alerted the first soldier and he turned. Caria looked up - the next wall was too high for her to climb over.

She stood still as the guards approached.

"You were trespassing?" Visov shouted.

Less than five minutes later, Caria had been escorted back home and her family awakened. Her father was in a fit, pacing the floor before her, as the two soldiers stood a little behind her, as if they expected her to try to run. "You were caught trespassing," her father said again. "On the Tisroc's property!"

Caria had no words, and stared on. Her mother stood to the side, looking at Caria sadly.

"Do you have any idea how damaging that is to my reputation? What will people say when they find out you were caught trespassing?"

"Visov," Krista spoke up. "Just vouch for her. Tell the court it was an honourable mistake and no harm was meant."

"A mistake?" Visov cried. "Do you truly think it was a mistake she was trespassing in the middle of the night when I had said she was not to leave the house? She left for the sole purpose to go to that house."

"I did not know it was property of the Tisroc," Caria said finally.

"It was trespassing nonetheless!" Her father ran his hands through his hair. "I will not vouch for her. Sirs, you may take her in the morning to the court."

Caria gasped loudly as her mother made a noise of protest. "Visov, please," Krista pleaded. "Do not send her away. She is your only child."

Visov glanced at Caria, who was fighting tears, and said, "Not anymore." He turned and left without another word.

Krista put a hand to her mouth, looking at Caria. Caria swallowed, choked out an apology to her mother, and then retreated to her room. The candle had been extinguished and Caria wondered where Fanna had gone.

Then she heard the whip cracks and Fanna's pained cries.