Chapter 4 – Reunion

Hosni had never seen fireflies before.

Now that the sun was almost set, the heat of the Narnian summer had passed. A lazy breeze stirred the forest surrounding Anvard, and Canisp closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She was dizzy with contentment and the scent of pine and stone and the coolness of night, a reassuringly wild offset to the closer smells of the city; horse and straw, leather and metal, livestock and carts and the domestic scent of bedsheets and humans.

And Ilona. Eyes still closed, Canisp gently bumped Ilona's arm out of the way, resting her head in the girl's lap. Ilona rested her arm around Canisp's neck, where it all but disappeared into the thick scruff of white fur. Her hand rested against the changeling's shoulder, just above the joint of the bound wing, and she stroked it idly, watching Hosni watch fireflies.

There was an almost childlike innocence on the boy's face as he stared at the gently pulsing lights. Ilona had grinned like a little girl when she first saw his amazement, and she had taken him by the hand and pulled him out the guardhouse gate, showing him how to catch them as dusk raced in. Canisp remembered well her own wonder the first time she had chased lightning bugs—light on her feet, paws dancing playfully over cool moss and damp leaves, nipping at seemingly magical sparks with Orion's laughter in her ears, the first truly carefree moment she had known since the dungeons. A rich purple sunset over Anvard with a pair of humans skidding in the grass and the scent of stars twirling through the air had woken that old spirit of abandon. Her steps had been heavier, this time; she was tired, it was harder to balance with her wing tied, and her head was still spinning with the enormity of Ilona's presence, her survival, her unchanged eyes—no shadows, there, no shattered innocence, no laughing spark dead forever… this time it was Hosni's moment, and Ilona's, but they still turned to Canisp as she bounded around them in the shadows, and laughed, and it was more than enough.

Ilona had ruffled her ears like a lapdog's, and laughed, and smiled softly at Hosni as she carefully held a blinking firefly in the three fingers that remained on her left hand.

Orion had been the first to notice her mutilated hand. She had pushed herself up on it, crying and laughing as Canisp tried to nuzzle up to her, and his eyes had snapped to the dusty bandage like it was a field mouse.

"It's nothing," she had tried to assure him.

She had rolled up the sleeves of her loose training tunic. The lashes on her shoulders were healed, but the scars of a Calormene whip remained.

"I'm fine, Canisp," she had insisted. The changeling's spiraling horror—what have they done to her, what did I abandon her to, there must have been another way—had been cut off by a wordless bugle of joy from Vesta. Ilona had looked past Canisp and grinned widely and more easily than she had ever seen as Hosni had slid shyly off Vesta's back, hunching his shoulders and trying to contain the uncontrollable happiness on his face.

Ilona, of course, was having none of that. Clambering to her feet, she had thrown her arms around his neck and hugged him like it had been years since they last met, kissing him on the cheek and breathing him in as deeply as any Wolf would have done for their mate. General celebration had broken out for some time; the City Guard had taken Ilona in and trained her on faith, purely after hearing she had learned knifework from a Narnian in Tashbaan, and she had been only too anxious to give them her story. The whole lot of them had been waiting for any news on Canisp's whereabouts; seeing their young sister reunited with the changeling she had spoken of with such love was the highlight of their summer, and they had made the most of it.

The Lone Islander who had claimed the right to reunite them had sternly reminded the 'lads' that half of them were on duty the next day, but that didn't stop them from cheerfully including the newcomers in a sweet ham dinner, roasted on a spit outside the walls, with hot bread and cool water and more than enough laughter to go around. A rich Narnian wine was poured into bowls for the Wolves and a wide-rimmed goblet for Orion—Hosni took a sip of his, and his face made Ilona laugh before she squeezed his hand apologetically and poured wine from his goblet into Orion's.

Much had been made of Vesta, as well. The guardsmen rarely enough had the opportunity to entertain Talking Beasts, and their form of hospitality suited her far better than the Calormene pampering. A lean-to had been prepared, fresh apples brought up from a cellar, and the brush-down she had received had been reinvigorating, restoring her to wild beauty rather than tame, delicate grace.

Orion had drifted to sleep with the sun, fluttering happily up to the eaves of the stable and tucking his head under his wing. If Canisp listened, she could hear him snoring from here. Jenga had also called her night early; she was curled back-to-back with the young guard who had happily kept her wine bowl filled all evening, and just as happily—to her great amusement—helped himself to the majority of it. But he had kept them all smiling with legends and tales from the history of the North, and been kind enough to fold his blanket in half for her to sleep on, so Canisp could only assume she had thought it a fair trade.

Across the yard, Vesta snorted at a passing firefly, and Hosni gave a soft breath of laughter. He was all but falling asleep against the wall, joining several other members of the Guard who had chosen to simply stretch out on bedrolls or use extra tunics or capes as pillows, taking advantage of the contented atmosphere to sleep under the familiar, twinkling stars of Archenland as their fire burned slowly to coals. Ilona glanced over at him, smiled, and nudged him in the ribs. Hosni jumped slightly, straightening up; she responded with a slight shake of her head, gently prodding him until his head was resting against her leg. He gave a tired smile of thanks and pulled a blanket one of their hosts had given him over his head.

Ilona moved her arm, resting it on Hosni's head rather than her knee, and the bandage caught Canisp's eye again.

Ever perceptive, Ilona didn't miss the look.

"It's only the little finger, Canisp," she said quietly. "I don't need it. It didn't even fester. Torran says I won't even need to bandage it after the next half-moon."

Her voice was soft, reassuring—she meant what she said, that Calormen had not broken her, that she considered her injuries a matter for the past, her ordeal long behind her. But there it was, just for a moment, behind her gentleness; an imprint of fear, a brief twitch of remembered pain.

Canisp gave a low, thin whine of concern, gold eyes searching brown, filled with unspoken concern. She pawed anxiously at Ilona's knee.

What happened? The question she couldn't ask, wouldn't ask, would not have answered herself. Ilona idly ran a thumb over the silky-smooth fur on Canisp's paw, and the changeling wondered if she could sense the scars. Did Ilona remember the lattice of wolfsbane burns that had wound their way along her mistress' arms when they sparred? She had seen them, Canisp knew that much. She had seen them, and comprehended them, and then never spared them a second glance. Did she know that the marks of the Vereor were burned into her flesh in this form as well, hidden under fur and feathers but no less present? Did she understand why Canisp would not ask the questions burning at her mind?

What did they do to you? A story that was not hers to request, that could only be given in Ilona's own time.

Why did you do it? A question she knew the answer to, knew it the same way she had never questioned Meya's sacrifice, never wondered why she herself had stepped between Maugrim and her sister.

And then the one question she could ask, the one answer she had the right to request.

"How did you escape?" she asked quietly, and Ilona's eyes were sad with the weight of the meaning behind the simple question.

"Lies," she said simply. "I was very indignant, my lady. I told them I was on a mission for Tash and they'd get nothing out of me. The whip was just to scare me, I think," she mused. "I've had worse beatings before. And then Rabadash threatened to let his men have me—"

Canisp's fur prickled sharply as she tensed.

"His men were led by Ishdar," Ilona said softly. "Nothing happened to me that I won't heal from, my lady." She ran her fingers through the fur at Canisp's neck until the changeling calmed.

"Not that they realize that," she said casually. "I let them think they'd broken me. Rabadash postured, made his threats, and when he took the finger I screamed and cried and told them everything."

Canisp stared at her, and a true, cocky Northern grin spread across Ilona's face.

"Oh, yes," she said seriously. "I told them all about how I'd been kidnapped and terrorized by a Narnian shapeshifting demon that pretended to be an angel of Tash. I hope you'll forgive me, O my mistress and O the delight of my eyes, for betraying your secrets, but I'm afraid the Tisroc knows about your plans to infiltrate Calormen, trick him into going to war, and then escape to lead a special force of demons to assassinate him in Tashbaan while all of his generals were off fighting. I did, of course, beg them not to make me speak the truth, because you would come to me in dreams and give me horrible nightmares where I died a thousand thousand deaths, and threaten to kill me if I spoke. I'm afraid he's called off the invasion, and is proud to not have fallen for your tricks."

Canisp was beginning to grin as well. "You little… Does Orion know about this?"

Ilona tried to stifle her laughter for the sake of the sleeping guards. "I'll tell him tomorrow, my lady," she whispered. "Remind me not to forget that you forced me to switch places with Hosni when I refused to come with you out of loyalty to Tash." Ishdar, Canisp thought drily, must have loved that. "Or the part where you used your demonic powers to give Hosni the ability to speak to animals and turn into a spotted desert cat, in return for poisoning the generals."

"Poisoning…?"

"Only the ones who are cruel to their slaves."

Canisp shifted uneasily. "Narnians don't use poison. It's a coward's weapon."

"It's the weapon of the helpless," Ilona corrected.

"You're not helpless," Canisp growled warningly.

"And I didn't kill them." Ilona sighed. "I just gave the rhododendron nectar to the kitchen girl who did. She knew what it was. I didn't trick her." She paused, sensing that Canisp's anger was not appeased. "I knew her, my lady. She had every right to take her revenge. Not every slave in the Tisroc's palace had a changeling to protect them." She seemed to weigh her next words, then added reluctantly, "And not every Garshid is stopped."

Canisp paused, then gently nudged her elbow. Ilona sighed again, but smiled and placed her arm back over the wolf's neck. A dog barked distantly in the city. Outside the walls, the shrill chirping of crickets was an almost steady hum.

"What now, my lady?" she asked.

It took a long time for Canisp to answer.

"I don't know," she admitted in a low murmur. "We have to find a place for Hosni and Vesta. Orion and I will go over the pass into Narnia, or along the mountains to Stormness Head to join the Eagles, or follow the coast to Cair Paravel just to see it… We might even stay in Anvard, for a little while," she offered hesitantly.

"You hate cities, my lady," Ilona reminded her.

"Anvard isn't Tashbaan. You have a place here. Hosni would be nearby. I don't have anywhere to go…"

Ilona was already shaking her head.

"You would stay for a while," she said. "You would even be happy, my lady, we all would. We're a pack, we're meant to be together." Canisp looked up, tail wagging happily at the unexpected affirmation. "But you don't belong here. Orion doesn't belong here. Even Hosni and Vesta won't belong here forever."

"But you do."

Canisp hadn't wanted to acknowledge it; it had been an Elephant in the room even throughout the unbridled joy of Ilona's self-made miracle. It was selfish, perhaps… but she didn't want to leave her. Ilona was a city girl, born and bred, and would flourish in Anvard, free and protected and human. But she was Canisp's best friend after Orion, and the changeling didn't want her to stay behind.

"You belong here," she forced out. "This is your world. You were born for this."

Ilona fingered the cord of her pendant, staring intently at nothing in particular.

"I was born for you, my lady," she said finally.

"You don't have to stay with me," Canisp insisted. She sounded like Orion. Normally, the thought would have made her smile. Right now she hated his logic. "You're free, Ilona, and you don't need me for protection anymore. Stay here. Live your own life."

Ilona set her shoulders firmly. "I've seen too much of cities," she said. "All I know is how to disappear in them, find a place and stay in it. I don't want to disappear anymore." She took a deep breath, and her voice was low and determined when she spoke again. "You told me once you wanted me with you as a friend." It could not have been a clearer challenge if she'd had fangs and hackles to back it up. You promised me, her eyes accused. They said what Ilona was too kind to. You promised me you would never leave me behind.

She needn't have bothered with the silent reminder. Canisp's tongue had been sneaking its way between her teeth since Ilona started talking, and she suddenly surged upwards, licking Ilona's face for the second time that day, bumping her head happily against the girl's and making her yelp in pain. Hosni also jumped and flailed out of Ilona's lap, as Canisp had stepped on his face.

"Oy," muttered one of the guards nearby without heat. "Some of us are trying to sleep, here."

Hosni blinked tiredly at Ilona, and she mouthed an apology and stretched her leg out before indicating that he should go back to sleep.

Canisp yawned widely, teeth gleaming in the dying firelight. Ilona leaned back against the wall, Canisp rested her heavy head in the girl's lap, and as the last sparks of the fire took flight to mingle with the stars, she was already asleep.