Author's Note: First of all, grovelling apologies for taking such a ridiculously long time to update. Some of the logistics of this piece have needed some sorting out, and I had to slow things down a bit to get some characterisation in. Never fear, though - hopefully my updates will henceforth be considerably less sporadic. (I have a feeling that it gets easier when you haven't got seven principal characters to deal with.)

As always, reviews are hugely appreciated.

Chapter Three - Recalcitrance and Romance

The lords were several weeks at the Lone Islands. The Governor cancelled his regular appointment time twice (ill health, if the reports were to be believed), and frustration began to set in amongst the company. The inn where they stayed was tolerably comfortable, but it was hardly the adventure that all seven had been searching for when they acceded to Miraz's suggestion.

"We'll just have to barge in again," said Argoz one day. "We can't wait here for ever, and the Governor – regrettably – can."

"Indeed," said Octesian over his tankard. "This provincial fiend is beginning to irritate me exceedingly."

"Nicely put," murmured Mavramorn. Octesian smiled.

"I wonder," said Argoz, "if the others can be diverted from their – current occupations."

The three of them were sitting with Rhoop at one of the wooden tables set around the pleasant, low-ceilinged common-room of the inn. Revilian was at another, an improbable amount of food heaped in front of him. Restimar was in one of the dingier corners, surrounded by three rather scantily-dressed women. Bern was also in a corner, but only one woman, the innkeeper's daughter, was with him. They were deep in conversation.

"I think, perhaps," said Rhoop softly, "that it would be well if we left these islands before our noble comrades became too enamoured of them."

"You speak truly," agreed Octesian, his eyes resting on Bern. "I think we should see Gumpas again tomorrow."

"Well, first," said Mavramorn thoughtfully, "I suppose we should decide what we want from him."

The others stared at him for a moment, and then nodded.

"Of course!" said Argoz. "How stupid! Of course."

It may seem odd that none of the seven lords had a clear idea of what they wanted from the Governor of the Lone Islands, but they were men of action and their diplomatic experience had been limited to compliant, unimportant mayors in Terebinthia and the Seven Isles. Gumpas, however foolish he seemed, was a much more important man, and he had been less than cooperative on their previous visit.

"In fact," said Octesian, "do we need anything of him at all?"

"Yes," said Rhoop firmly. "We need assurances that the Narnian throne continue to be acknowledged, and we should at least attempt to stop this abominable trade in slaves."

"Agreed," said Argoz. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," the others agreed.

**

The next day dawned dreary and wet. The waves crashed upon the rocky shores around the island, and lightning could be seen out over the restless sea.

The streets were deserted as the seven lords made their way up to the Governor's residence, running between shop porches and keeping their hoods over their heads. The gatekeeper, who peered out from a guardhouse just behind the gate, seemed minded to be belligerent, but Argoz grasped his sword-hilt suggestively. The man gulped, and opened the gate.

"Disgusting," shouted Octesian over the clatter of the rain. "We could have been anybody!"

"Don't complain!" Argoz replied, as they hurried into the dry entrance hall. "We would have been standing there for hours otherwise."

They removed their cloaks and handed them to the bewildered doorkeeper, and strode into the Governor's chamber.

Gumpas looked not to have moved since their last visit. There he was at the far end of the cavernous room, his eyes fixed upon the official-looking papers in front of him.

"Do they have an appointment?" he asked, without looking up.

"No, we do not," said Argoz, striding up to him, "because you have been too cowardly to agree to one."

Gumpas looked up, a bored look in his eyes.

"We have covered your business," he droned. "You may return to your lord. I have nothing further to say to you. Thank you." He returned to his papers.

"Your Sufficiency," said Mavramorn quietly, moving forward. "We must have something to take back to our king. Assurances, in your own hand, that the overlordship of Narnia continue to be acknowledged in the Lone Islands, and that the detestable slave trade be ceased, would be quite sufficient."

There was anger in the Governor's eyes this time.

"I am perfectly happy to give assurances," he said dismissively, "but as for abolishing the slave trade – out of the question! The economy relies on it. We could not possibly survive without it, and the money it brings in!"

"We manage without it in Narnia," Octesian pointed out.

"Narnia is not an isolated group of islands," said Gumpas, "and has far more resources. We must use what resources we can to survive!"

"You have other resources," said Bern, speaking for the first time. "You are an important trading station, surely. You have sheep on the green slopes of Felimath. You have no need of slaves."

"I refuse to discuss this further," said Gumpas, standing. "The internal affairs of the Lone Islands are no affair of the King of Narnia, and have even less to do with seven upstart lordlings without so much as a letter of certification! I will sign your wretched assurances, if only to get rid of you, but that will be all!"

Bern opened his mouth to retort, but Mavramorn laid his hand on his shoulder. "We will take the assurances now, if you please, Your Sufficiency," he said. "And we will be on our way."

"Good," said Gumpas, reaching for a new sheet of parchment. He scrawled something across it, gave it his gubernatorial stamp, and handed it to them. "Now be off."

The lords little liked to be so peremptorily dismissed, but it was clear that they would get nothing more from the recalcitrant Gumpas. They left the Governor's residence despondently, caring less about the rain soaking their cloaks than the failure of their first and most concrete objective. It did not seem to be a propitious beginning to their voyage.

When they reached their inn, they made their way to the common room once more. Restimar was soon surrounded by simpering girls, and excused himself politely. Bern caught the eye of the innkeeper's daughter, and, as was by now customary, went to his corner to converse with her. The others sat around one of the tables and ordered tankards of ale from the surly innkeeper.

"What did we get for it?" asked Argoz. "What has he given us?"

Mavramorn opened the scroll and sighed. "Even less," he said, and showed them its contents.

Your Majesty,

We regret to inform you that a letter of certification is required for any dealings with the Governor of the Lone Islands. We thank you for your interest.

Lord Gumpas

Governor of the Lone Islands

**

The day they were to depart, the weather was obliging. The white gulls wheeled blissfully over the calm harbour, and the sky was a bright, pure blue. Clouds were scarce and notably unenthusiastic. It was surely time to be gone.

Bern, however, accosted the other lords in the common-room of the tavern that morning. His face was troubled, and he spoke falteringly.

"I must confess that the prospect of further travel does not excite me," he said, avoiding their eyes. "I am minded to remain instead on these islands, and watch over them on the king's behalf."

There was a stunned silence. Then –

"But – but –" Revilian spluttered. "You can't!"

"What is behind this, Bern?" asked Mavramorn seriously, looking sharply into the other's eyes.

Bern swallowed, and his eyes flicked to the innkeeper's daughter, who was behind the counter. "N-nothing," he stammered.

"Do you take us for fools?" demanded Argoz. "You would not abandon us lightly! Speak!"

But a smile was playing on Restimar's lips. He chuckled.

"What can possibly be amusing?" snapped Argoz.

Restimar laughed again. "I think our Lord Bern has a rather attractive reason for remaining here on dreary Doorn," he said. "Very attractive, in fact."

Bern flushed deeply. The other lords appeared utterly bemused.

"What are you talking about?" Rhoop asked.

"My congratulations, Bern," said Restimar, ignoring Rhoop. "When is the date?"

"We – we haven't –" Bern faltered. "It's not – not official."

"Would someone care to enlighten the rest of us?" said Revilian irritably. "Confusion is not good for the digestion." His stomach gave an enormous rumble of agreement.

"The girl, you fools," said Restimar, still laughing. "Look at the girl."

The others turned, with various expressions of dawning comprehension. "You haven't," whispered Octesian. "Bern – tell me you haven't."

"It's only a private understanding," said Bern, with slightly increased confidence. "There's nothing – as I said – official about it."

"You're leaving us for – for a girl?" demanded Rhoop in astonishment. "An innkeeper's daughter?"

"I think it's rather touching," smiled Mavramorn.

Rhoop gave an explosive snort.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself," said Argoz, looking stormy. "You never were one for adventure, were you, Bern? Far too staid and … and sensible. Don't feel the need to come and see us off – we wouldn't want to tempt you from more pressing demands."

He turned and stormed out, with a brusque word to the others about waiting at the ship.

"Well, on your own head be it," said Rhoop, following Argoz.

"Next time you do something like this," said Revilian, puffing a little, "some warning would be nice. You've upset my stomach, and it will take all day to fix itself up." His voice was stern, but his face was rosy, and he winked at Bern.

"Come, then," said Restimar, linking arms with his brother. "Let us leave our unexpectedly attached friend and be on our way."

Octesian and Mavramorn each embraced Bern quickly and wordlessly, and followed their companions down to the harbour.