AUTHOR'S NOTE, PART 3: Please note that in this chapter, as well as the one preceding it and many of the ones following it, I have incorporated the dialogue from The Horse and His Boy. In some places I have left it intact exactly as C.S. Lewis wrote it, and in others I have adapted it. This dialogue belongs to the master himself, and not to my poor, inferior brain.

PRONUNCIATION NOTE: Atish is pronounced Ah-TEESH.

Chapter 3

"Whoa!" Shasta's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and his hand recoiled from the horse's snout as if it were a burning chunk of coal.

"Ow!" At exactly the same time, Shen, who had been halfway between kneeling and standing when she heard the horse speak, tripped over her hand, smacked into the side of the shed, and sat straight back down, rubbing her newly-bruised left shoulder. The injury, however, did not keep her from immediately whipping her head around to stare at the horse. I had to have imagined that. I had to! I wanted Shasta's wish to come true, so I must have imagined it.

But if I imagined it, why does his face look as surprised as mine?

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Bree," another voice broke in. Wait a minute. That wasn't Shasta. That sounded female… Still in half a daze, Shen slowly swung her eyes, which were now wider than Shasta's if possible, to the younger Tarkaan's horse, which had trotted up next to its partner during the stunned silence. Oh, no. Oh, double no. Not that one, too.

"Can't you see you've scared the boy witless?" admonished the mare. "I told you not to just start talking out of the blue in front of him. You might have given him a bit more warning!"

"Oh, and how would I have done that?" returned the first horse sarcastically. Wait a minute. Did I just hear a creature that can't even talk – all right, definitely shouldn't be able to talk – express sarcasm? "Would you rather I started writing in the dirt for him?"

The mare rolled its – well, her, I suppose – eyes at him, but her forthcoming reply was abruptly halted when Shasta finally found his voice.

"How ever did you learn to talk?" he asked, all the incredulity from his burgeoning eyes having found its way into his voice.

"Hush! Not so loud," the first horse answered. "Where I come from, nearly all the animals talk."

All the animals? All the animals? He did not just say that. He did not, he did not, he did NOT!

"Wherever is that?" Shasta was asking the horses.

"Narnia," answered the mare, her tone rising from scolding to nearly lilting.

Narnia…it can't be! Even Hashim said that he could only verify that it had existed as a country in the past, and he didn't know for sure whether it still does exist. He thought it and that other northern country…what was it? Right, Archenland…might have been taken over by one of the western nations during the wars 100 years ago…

"How did you get here?" Shasta was asking the male horse.

"Kidnapped," the latter replied ruefully. "Or stolen, or captured – whichever you like to call it. I was only a foal at the time. My mother warned me not to range the Southern slopes, into Archenland and beyond, but I wouldn't heed her."

"Or me," the mare interjected. "How many times did I tell you…"

"As many times as you've told me since then that if I hadn't been such an idiot, you wouldn't have followed me and been kidnapped too," the other horse answered, not quite sharply enough to provoke an instant reply from the mare, but just sharply enough to make her roll her eyes. Like they've never argued about that before, thought Shen, recognizing a conversation the two horses seemed to have memorized as well as she and her brother had learned their own arguments about leaving Arsheesh's cottage by heart.

"In any case," continued the male horse, "I have paid for my folly. All these years I have been a slave to humans, hiding my true nature and pretending to be dumb and witless like their horses."

"Why didn't you tell them who you were?" queried Shasta.

Shen and the mare both rolled their eyes simultaneously – honestly, Shasta, don't you remember that carnival full of strange beasts that just visited the village last year? – and she finally found her voice, rose to her feet, and stepped toward her brother just as the male horse began to speak again.

"Come on, Shasta, you don't – "

"Well, we're not that foolish – "

Both horses immediately swiveled around to regard her.

"Our apologies." The mare spoke first. "We didn't mean to disturb anyone in the house."

Shen managed to open and close her mouth without saying anything only once. "Oh, no…I wasn't in the house. I was just over there, by the side of the stable, and I…um…couldn't help overhearing you."

"What happened to your arm, Shen?" asked her brother, noticing her wince as she lifted her left arm to indicate the spot she had just vacated.

Shen waved him off. "Just tripped again, that's all." The sound of her name jolted her back to her sense of common courtesy. Well, I don't know exactly what talking horses consider courtesy, but I'm not going to let them think we're a couple of rude idiots. "Pardon me, I don't believe my brother – " here she shot Shasta a meaningful look – "and I have properly introduced ourselves yet. My name is Shen – " after half a moment's hesitation as to what gesture should accompany her introduction, she decided the customary curtsey would suffice – "and this is my brother Shasta." After receiving a second, slightly longer look, Shasta produced an awkward bow. "We live here, as you probably know."

"As you probably know?" What a nice way of insulting the intelligence of the strangers you just met, Shen.

The mare didn't seem to mind in the least. She nodded her head briefly. "It's our pleasure to meet you. My name is Brennin-nenhin-hayhin-hoohy-hah, and this scalawag is my twin brother – "

"Breehy-hinny-brinny-hoohy-hah," interrupted the male horse, stretching out each syllable with great relish and drawing an exaggerated eyeroll from his sister.

After a moment of considerably awkward silence, Shasta plucked up the courage – or sheer impertinence, Shen thought half-proudly and half-exasperatedly – to say, "Sorry, but could we come up with something shorter to call you each? I'll never be able to pronounce your full names properly. Say, perhaps, Bree and Bren?"

Bree tossed his head impatiently. "Well, if it's the best you can do, I suppose you must."

"Of course you may," his sister amended, shooting her brother a brief, scornful glance. Funny. I never thought a horse would know as many ways to say "Mind your manners" as I do.

"In any case," Bree continued, steadfastly ignoring his sister, "to answer your previous question about my master, the Tarkaan Anradin, he's bad. Almost as bad as his brother, the Tarkaan Atish. Not that they're too bad to us – we cost them too much to be treated very badly. But you'd better be lying dead tonight than go to be human slaves in his house – or his brother's house – tomorrow."

Shen had decided as much about the Tarkaan Atish already, but her eyes widened of their own volition. I don't believe I have ever heard anybody – let alone a talking horse – enunciate my own thoughts so clearly right in front of me. However, it still didn't keep her from catching the meaningful look her brother shot at her, heavy with every argument he'd ever used to plead his case for leaving. And she wanted to smack him for doing it, because she'd never been more prone to giving in than now.

"I think we'd better run away, then." Shasta was now addressing Bree.

"Yes, you had," the horse replied. "But why not run away with us?"

"Are you going to run away too?"

"Yes, but only if you'll come with us," Bren cut in. "It's the best chance for us all. If my brother and I run away without riders, everyone who sees us will think we're stray horses and make after us as quick as they can. Tarkaans have been known to pay handsomely to reclaim their best mounts, after all. You two, on the other hand, might not draw as many questions, but you won't get nearly as far on two legs each – and they don't look like they're built for too much speed. On us, you can outdistance any other horse in this country. By the way, I suppose you know how to ride."

Shasta quickly won the race to speak first. "Oh, yes, of course. We've both ridden the donkey." And I still fall off of it every third time or so.

"Ridden the wha-ha-hat?" exclaimed Bree, his half-neigh dripping with scorn. "In other words, you can't ride. That's a drawback. We'll have to teach you as we go along. If you can't ride, can you fall?"

"I suppose anyone can fall," answered Shasta, looking slightly confused. Right. I bet your sister was the first person you thought of. Thank you for not saying that out loud, though.

Bren spared her the embarrassment, addressing herself to both siblings. "What my brother means is, can you fall and get up again without crying and mount again and fall again and yet not be afraid of falling? You'll have to do that if we ever hope to make it to Narnia."

Then we might as well not leave at all, Shen almost spit out. But the alternative…

"Would you excuse us for a moment, please?" she asked the horses as calmly as possible before glaring pointedly at her brother. "Shasta, why don't we talk for a bit?"

Both horses nodded, but Shen was already sweeping toward the stable. Shasta, panting, followed her in and shut the door behind him.

"Shasta…" Shen began feebly, but couldn't get out anything further.

"Shen, come on." For the first time since they'd begun having that argument, his voice contained more pleading than exasperation. "Tarkaans do own the fastest horses. On these two, we'd actually have a chance – better than just a chance, if you think about it – and once we get to Narnia, we'll actually know somebody who can show us around while we're looking for our real parents."

The skeptical reply Shen had been preparing promptly dissolved on her tongue in the hopeful glow of her brother's widened eyes. "You believe what Arsheesh said, then. About finding us by the ocean, I mean." It wasn't a question.

Shasta nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders in concert. "It makes sense." He paused for a moment. "You believed him, too, right?"

Shen absently returned his nod, making a split-second decision not to tell him about her conversation with Hashim and Ruhandi so many years ago. Maybe I should have told you about it like I wanted to, little brother. But I didn't trust you not to blurt it out to Arsheesh and incur another beating. And even if Hashim and Ruhandi were right, what would I have been able to tell you about our real parents? If we were in a shipwreck, or lost, then they had probably died already. If they were alive, why didn't they come to find us? Like Hashim's favorite poet said, "He who ceases to seek does not care to find" – right? And how could I ever have said that to you? "But even in that case…"

Shen could tell Shasta's exasperated sigh was meant to presage an equally exasperating exclamation, so she cut him off quickly. "No, Shasta, listen. Can we really trust these horses? For all we know, they're trying to trap us into a failed escape. And even then, even if we do escape, how do we know they'll be able to find their way to Narnia? And Shasta…" She couldn't stop the thin film of tears from covering her eyes. "Even if we do get there, we might never find our parents. You know that, right? And if we don't, how do we know we won't become slaves again? Or worse?"

Shasta looked as though he was about to launch into an impressive series of arguments to combat her own, but at the last moment he choked it back, shook his head, and regarded her with an intentness he rarely displayed. "Worse than here, Shen?" His mouth didn't add, Especially tonight?, but his eyes did.

And to those simple questions, Shen could summon no reply.

Even I don't really believe my own argument about trusting the horses. What reason would they have for betraying two people they just met, especially if we're their way out of slavery? Besides, if they have fought in any wars at all with their lords, they must know much more about geography than Shasta and I do. And when – if – we get to Narnia, the fact that we're accompanying two native Narnians should stand us in good enough stead with whoever else lives there to keep us out of slavery – the worst sorts of slavery, at least. Maybe. Oh, I don't know. She squinted her eyes shut so tightly that the headache that had plagued her since she began serving that night's dinner quickly migrated to her forehead.

But you do know what will happen if the Tarkaans persuade Arsheesh to sell the both of you. Shasta will be condemned to a life worse than this one, if possible. And you… Shen shuddered, and with great effort refused to let her thoughts wander any further in that direction. Do you really want to hang your hopes for your brother – not to mention yourself – on so slender a thread as Arsheesh's drunken, unpredictable greed? Or on the Tarkaans' restraint should he refuse them? This time, her shudder was visible, and she clenched her teeth almost as tightly as her eyelids.

"Shen?" The sound of her name, spoken for at least the third or fourth time now if her brother's genuinely worried tone was any indication, finally snapped Shen's chain of troubled thoughts. For the moment, at least.

She inhaled deeply, sucking in what felt like the equivalent of the North and South Winds both before rubbing her earlobe between her thumb and forefinger – as was her wont in significantly difficult situations – and turning to look her brother directly in the eyes.

"Let's go, then."