Chapter Seven:

The Sitting Ducks

.

.

.

Aara slammed the door shut with as much strength as she could possibly muster, quickly turning the lock in place and immediately regretting it as the motion made her fingers burn something fierce. Sweet heavenly Tash that was the largest beast she had ever seen in her entire life and it was standing right outside her door! And it hadn't helped at all that at the sound of Aara's yell the cat had turned and snarled, giving Aara a lovely view of its large and razor sharp teeth.

She walked backwards away from the wooden surface, her eyes and mouth wide in disbelief and with her hands out behind her trying to find something to grab on to. That...animal...came up all the way to her waist, and easily outweighed her by at least 100 pounds! It was, in fact, ridiculously large. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself down. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest - that was one thing she certainly hadn't expected to see when she'd opened up the door! She found the outline of the end board with her hand and grasped its edge firmly, waiting a stunned moment before dropping herself down with a thud. It wasn't as if there was anything else to be done; the door was the only way out and if that cat wanted to get in, it probably would not bother with the locks. But as the seconds passed it seemed less and less likely – after all, it wasn't tearing the door down; In fact, there wasn't any noise from it at all that she could hear. There was simply quiet.

Her throat ached from how loud she had yelped, and she rubbed a hand over the surface of her neck. The more she thought about it, the less she believed she really had anything to fear. The probability that the animal was wild, or even untrained, was slim. After all, was this not the land of talking beasts? Had she not conversed with speaking Ducks just this very morning? Aara admitted to herself that she was actually more surprised and shocked than outright scared for her life. She had probably scared it – or, him, she supposed, more than he had scared her- thinking about it now she hoped she hadn't offended him by flying back that way. She looked for a long moment at the door and then stood, walking back towards it.

With her hands placed flat against its surface, she moved so that her ear was directly against it. Still, she heard nothing. Tentatively, she spoke.

"...Hello?" she asked, not knowing if she would get an answer.

"Hello," someone answered directly after, and Aara moved her face away from the door quickly. The sound came from just above her – it was not the beast speaking. It was clearly a man. The voice spoke again.

"I fear my Lady has been frightened by her guard – you've nothing to fear from Yagura, he'll do you no harm." The accent of the speaker was not the same as the Doctors' had been, or the two servant girls. It was less fluid, less flowery...a northern voice, hearty and deep. Again, his manner of speaking was more casual than Aara was used to.

Aara felt apprehensive about speaking in that moment, for reasons that she couldn't quite decipher. Her voice felt rough and unused, and her throat was dry and achy. What was she going to do though? Not answer? No, that would be ridiculous.

"...my Lady?" the voice asked again, in a concerned tone. It snapped her into speech.

"Yes!" Aara blurted out as an answer. "Yes, I – I am not accustomed to beasts – I meant no offense," she offered through the door.

"No offense taken, I'm sure. Won't you come out, my Lady? You may see for yourself how gentle the great brute really is." Aara could clearly hear the teasing note in his voice.

"Very well," she replied, quite nervous all of a sudden. If only your stomach could stop turning for two minutes at a time! She swallowed and reached down to unlock the door, the click of the lock sounding infinitely loud in the space around her and smarting her fingers once again. Maybe it was the fact that as soon as she stepped outside all of this became real; as long as she was tucked away in this little room she could still convince herself she hadn't done anything, but as soon as she walked out the door... she would really be in Narnia; she would really be committing acts of high treason punishable by death. She waited just a moment then, to breathe slowly and calmly, and finally turned the handle and opened the door.

In front of her was a tall man with a kind smile upon his face and a head full of golden hair. He cut quite an imposing figure, standing before her with his broad shoulders and finery of deep maroon, with a sword at his hip and a golden medallion across his chest, on a chain of gold and ruby links. His features were strong – high cheekbones and a full mouth, and a jaw covered by golden whiskers! His eyes were the colour of clear blue quartz, a colour so light she had never before seen. His was a powerful face - no doubt a handsome face – and as she saw the gold circlet lying upon his hair, she realized it was also the face of a King. With his blonde hair and sun kissed skin, it was clear that this man was King Peter, the one whom her brothers' history texts called 'the golden defender'. Aara was quite overtaken; she felt very overwhelmed at that moment to be so suddenly thrust into the presence of one so highly decorated. The Tisroc himself never met personally with visitors unless they were of the highest importance...how different things were here in the Northern lands, to be personally greeted by a King! She was struck speechless.

"Good afternoon, my Lady," he said, inclining his head towards her. "It's my hope that you are feeling quite recovered."

Aara found her voice, still shocked by the man in front of her. "To be sure I am a good deal recovered," she said, "and if I have not been deceived, it is because of your actions. I am forever in your debt, your Majesty" she finished, dropping almost to her knees in the low curtsy customary for royalty in Calormen , her palms pressed together underneath her chin, her head bowed.

"Oh- please, do not. That is not necessary," the King said. Aara raised her head, slightly confused. Was her show of subservience not adequate? "And do not be alarmed!" he continued, seeing the lines of her face grow into worry. "We are not so very formal in Narnia as those in Calormen. It would please me best to see you stand, if you wish to." Aara stood slowly, allowing the King to very lightly place his hands under her forearms, to brace her as she stood on still shaky legs.

"You are perceptive, my Lady!" he said after she had risen. "I am called High King Peter," he said, breaking off and bowing slightly. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to our fair lands. If I may, lady, - you are called the Tarkheena Aara Al-Fareed, are you not?"

Aara nodded, "Yes Majesty," she said, but it was coupled with a puzzled look. How had he...? The King took in her furrowed brow and chuckled. "The good Doctor Cornelius," he explained. "But you knew me as well – how is it that that should be?"

What an odd question...anyone would be able to tell the man in front of her was a King. It was evident in the way he spoke, the way he stood... "There are many in Calormen who know the tales of Narnia's High King; that, and the circlet you wear about your head, your Majesty." An odd look came over his face at her answer, turning down the very corners of his lips and furrowing his brow just the slightest...disappointment? Aara saw it immediately. "I – I am truly sorry if my answer displeases his majesty – I remember nothing of how I came to be found, and have never before crossed your borders." His face instantly cleared, the slight frown replaced by a smile.

"No, no – do not think of it. My own thoughts and troubles are not meant for a gentle lady's ear. And I would have you know that there is no debt to be repaid for our hospitality; It is simply my duty and the duty of all Narnians to ensure the safety of every traveler as best we are able," he answered, moving away from the door and sweeping out his left hand. "Won't you meet Yagura, my Lady?" he said, changing the subject swiftly. Aara stepped forward into the hall, coming face to face with the jaguar that had startled her earlier.

"High tidings to you, Good Sir," she said, bowing slightly, her long hair swishing about her and her palms pressed together before her. Tash protect her, was he ever large... She forced a steady tone into her voice as she spoke. "My humblest and sincerest apologies to you for my conduct – I am but new to these lands, and have only heard tales and stories of the talking beasts of Narnia." The jaguar looked upon her with a sly eye, but not an unkind one.

The animal inclined his head towards her and swished his tail. His voice was low and smooth like a deep purr as he spoke. "I would be your guard, if you are not opposed."

"To be sure, I would be most honoured," Aara replied, her nervousness at his presence not yet fully abated.

"Now that that's been sorted," the High King interjected, "I'd ask if your ladyship would kindly follow me; my fellow monarchs anxiously await to meet you, and I hear you have been waiting with news of your own for us to hear?" Aara looked at him and nodded.

"Yes, your Majesty. With your humble permission, I would speak with your majesties on matters of grave importance."

"Grave importance? Well then of course permission must be granted; but all who seek it have an audience with myself and my siblings," he answered.

How gracious he seemed, this golden King with his easy manner and ready laugh! As they walked down the hall with Yagura following silently on her other side, Peter spoke lightly about where it was that Aara had been found, and again on how glad he was that she was on the road to recovery – it was all inconsequential and the both of them knew it. But they could not speak of the things they wished to speak of in public.

"If I may, your Majesty," Aara began as they neared the door the King was steering them to, but then stopped, thinking better of her question. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Yes? My Lady may speak freely here," he said seriously.

"It was told to me," she said, "by the good Doctor who attended me, that I was...expected here?" The servants in front of the door bowed deeply and opened it, waiting for them to step through. "I cannot tell a lie, my Lady," he said, stepping aside so that she could enter first, "we have been expecting you for quite some time."

Peter held out his arm for her to enter the room, and watched her closely as she passed him. She was the very picture of Calormene high society, the perfect Tarkheena; her etiquette was impeccable, her formalities flawless. She spoke exceptionally formally as was customary of all Calormene nobles, and walked and talked with grace and dignity and class. No action seemed out of place; not the way she tilted her head to look at him better when he spoke, or how she had bowed to Yagura with practiced ease and elegance, even after being startled by him at first. Actually, he had had to stifle a laugh walking upon that scene, this slim girl shrieking and flying back, her hair whipping around her as the door slammed shut. Other than that incident, she was perfectly docile.

Watching her, she seemed to be...an utterly different creature than the girl he had dreamed about, the girl who had ridden through a desert and crossed a mountain and driven through a terrible storm and almost died. He was having trouble reconciling this girl with the one who had performed all those tasks.

And how strange that she knew him, but only from hearsay! He had assumed that as he had dreamed of her, she too would have dreamed of him. It looked however, as if that was not so.

He shook his head slightly to clear it, and followed her into the room. They were in Edmund's private library, a circular room with high bright windows and a high ceiling, with all the rounded walls covered to their tops with books. There was a great wooden table in the middle, and a large roaring fireplace off to one side. It was a dusty, beautiful room, full of maps and books and instruments and ideas, and it seemed as good a place as any to privately discuss this matter amongst themselves. Susan, Lucy, Caspian and Edmund were already waiting there, and they all stood when they saw them enter the room. As they came to stand in front of his siblings he extended his hand. "My Lady Tarkheena," he said, "it pleases me for you to meet my fellow Kings and Queens of Narnia; Queen Lucy, King Caspian, King Edmund and Queen Susan."

If Aara had thought herself overwhelmed in the presence of one of these great monarchs, she felt absolutely dwarfed in a room with all five, especially to meet them in such an informal setting, as well! She imagined that she must look quite small to these great lords and ladies, these Kings and Queens of Old. There seemed to be something ancient about them... something deep and grand and venerable. Aara could see it lying along the broad line of King Peter's shoulders, could see it twinkling in Queen Lucy's merry eyes, could see it hiding softly in the beautiful curve of Queen Susan's cheek; she could see it resting in the easy smile that graced Caspian's lips, and flowing across King Edmund's inquisitive brow. It was something that could not be named, an un-learnable quality...a kind of holiness, perhaps. After all, had they not been blessed by their God?

She clasped her hands before her as if in prayer and bowed deeply to them, her hair falling over one shoulder and rippling like water down to the ground. "Your Majesties," she said, holding that position for as long as her state would allow before standing upright once more. "I am Tarkheena Aara Al-Fareed. I have journeyed to your lands from across the mountains and the desert from the land Calormen, in order that I might speak with you. I must express to you my utmost gratitude for your shelter and hospitality." Lucy left her place at the table as she finished and came forward to her, smiling and taking her hands lightly in her own.

"Thank Aslan that you are recovered and well, Tarkheena!" she said. Her voice sounded to Aara like bells, or a hymn; harmonic and sweet. "My sister and I worried terribly for hours, but Doctor Cornelius had faith all the while that you'd be just fine. You did meet him, didn't you?"

"Yes," Aara answered, feeling a bit out of sorts – she was not prepared for this outright burst of affection from the Queen – just a moment ago she had been in awe of her, and now she was holding her hands as if she were any other girl her age! She remembered to keep her body movements and voice smooth and graceful, not allowing her slight shock at the Queens' personable manner to show through. "He was very kind to me," she finished, and Lucy smiled brightly.

Peter, who was still standing at her other side, held out his hand again. "Come," he said. "Let us sit and talk." Lucy linked hers and Aara's arms together at the elbows and the two went to the table. "You will sit next to my sister and I, won't you?" she asked cheerfully, and Aara was reminded of a little bird – a hummingbird, perhaps, or a swallow; she seemed to flit around just as they did, bringing a flash of color along with her sweet voice.

As they came to their seats, Susan also reached for her hand, clasping it only lightly within her own, so as not to harm her. "My sister does not exaggerate, my Lady," she said. "It is our good fortune to know that you are well." The Queens' hands were warm and so too was her smile, and Aara noted to herself how true the stories were of her beauty; with long chestnut hair and milky skin, rosy cheeks and full lips, she was a sight to behold. Truthfully, a more beautiful woman Aara had never seen.

"Your majesty is most gracious," she replied, and Susan began to sit, allowing her to do the same. Before her, the table was full of plates of food – cheeses and fruits and bread, and large meats. Aara could see dust in the air around them, an ethereal sort of dust illuminated by light that reminded her of the way desert sand would blow through their courtyard off the mainland.

"My ladyship was in possession of a great steed, when she arrived at the castle, was she not?" Caspian asked, a half smile playing on his lips, as he reached forward with one hand to take a grape off one of the platters on the great table. Aara was slightly taken aback by the darkness of his eyes; this man was undoubtedly the Telmarine King, with his olive skin and smooth accent of the lands from across the sea.

"Indeed your Majesty – his name is Abyad, and he is truly a noble steed. My fortune at having him in my possession is great indeed. I would know what has become of him, if it can be told."

"He is safe in our stables, being spoilt by our stable masters. He is how we found you, my Ladyship, laying beside you. Did you know that?"

Aara smiled, and it was full of relief. She had wondered about Abyad, and was glad to know her horse had been found and cared for. "Such loyalty is not inconceivable to me, your Majesty – after all, when all others have forsaken him, does a man not still have his horse?" she asked, and the table laughed. "That is the truth, my Lady," Caspian answered.

"And women?" Aara turned – the question had been asked by Edmund, the only Monarch who had so far been silent. He sat relaxed in his chair with one knee up, his foot resting on an ottoman beneath the table. His features heavily matched that of Queen Susan's, with milky white freckled skin and dark hair that swept along his brow. His eyes were dark, and there was something in the way he regarded her – not unkindly, but as if he was testing her, challenging her. He did not look unkind, but his demeanour was not easy in the way of his siblings. He looked a man who did not suffer fools gladly. He made Aara nervous.

He held her gaze as she asked what it was he had meant. "My lady said that when all others have forsaken a man, he still has his horse. But when all others forsake a women, what then is she left with?" he clarified. Aara took a slight minute to respond, looking him in the eyes all the while.

"Her wits," she said with a slight smile playing on her lips, and was rewarded with laughter from around the table and Edmunds' own slow smile; it was a good answer. Lucy clapped and Edmund quirked his brow. "Indeed," he said, still smiling. "That is also true."

"Well of course it is," Susan began, a coy smile upon her face, "it isn't as though we can rely on our men, can we?" she finished, and the girls laughed. Ever the gracious hostess, Susan asked, "Wine, Tarkheena?" holding up her own silver goblet that was no doubt holding the substance in question.

"Graciously I must decline, your Majesty; wine is forbidden for women in Calormen," she answered, and Susan looked surprised. "Oh!" she said, "my apologies. It has been...many years since I have been to Calormen I'm afraid – the customs have changed from when I was there last, have they not? I do not remember that."

"Yes your Majesty; our Tisroc, may he live forever, takes a very...literal approach to certain aspects of our holy texts," she answered, forcing herself to remain polite and dignified even whilst speaking of Rabadash, even stating the venerable prayer of eternal life. The Monarchs did not miss her subtle hint though – aspects of the holy texts – and Peter especially filed it away for further thought.

"Well piety or not," Susan cut in, "you will still drink something, won't you? Doctor Cornelius insists that you remain hydrated and I'm determined that your health should only flourish during your stay with us. The last apples of the season have been picked and our cooks make a lovely cinnamon cider – what say your Tisroc about that?"

Aara could not help a smile – the gentle Queen was as lovely as she had read about. "He would quite condone it, I am sure; I thank you for your gracious accommodation."

"It is no trouble," Susan replied. "And please, we are not so formal here as to require 'Majesty' and 'Grace'; you must call me Queen Susan, and all of us the same."

"You are most gracious, Queen Susan – it is my great honour to acquiesce."

A servant came in then with a pitcher of cider, and placed a silver goblet before Aara filling it with the steaming liquid. Aara pressed her palms together in front of her and inclined her head towards the servant, thanking them in Calormene fashion. It was in fact a much greater gesture than she would have normally afforded a servant, but Aara remembered the excellent treatment of her serving girls before, and was careful to try and mimic the respect given to servants she had so far seen. The servant left the pitcher on the table and left the room, and the steam from the drink wafted up and filled the air around her with the smell of apples and cinnamon. Peter filled his glass and raised it, as did the others. "To peace and good health," he said, and heard it echoed around him and then the sound of drinking.

"Now," he said, looking to Aara, "I believe her ladyship has some grave matters to discuss with us."

Edmund looked at the girl who was seated in front of him across the table with a critical eye. This was his first real glimpse of 'the little Tarkheena' as Doctor Cornelius was calling her. He had barely seen her as he had brought her into the castle, and hadn't gone into her rooms to see her as Peter had – after all, she had been asleep; as long as he knew that she wasn't going to die then what purpose would it have served? He didn't particularly care what she looked like.

Seeing her now though, the first thing he had done was raise his eyebrow in disbelief. This was the girl who had crossed the desert and the perilous mountain ranges of Archenland and managed to keep herself from getting killed by the Tisroc's guard and then had made it all the way to the woods beyond the castle?

Why, she was barely a slip of a thing! She couldn't have been any older than Lucy, just as Peter had said. In fact, she was probably younger, now that he was looking at her. She wasn't short, exactly – she was taller than Lucy but watching her walk in he saw that Peter had almost a head on her. She was skinner than anything – couldn't have weighed more than 110 pounds, at the most. Her hands were bandaged as well as her forehead, and she moved and rose gingerly, as if a touch afraid of sudden pain. Her cheeks were sunken and her skin was a pallid light brown, instead of the usual golden caramel of the peoples of the south. Deep circles under her eyes and cuts on her face added to her injuries – she looked exceptionally worn, to be frank. Edmund had to admit though that she was not plain – her features, although not in the Narnia fashion, were quite pretty even when obscured by illness and injury. It seemed the only uninjured thing about her was her hair, which rippled down like an inky waterfall, straight as a pin and black as the night to almost her knees.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting in her place, but she was just such a tiny and dainty looking thing – she was hardly physically intimidating; he doubted she could hold a blade or shoot an arrow, although her riding skills were well developed it seemed. Her name was familiar to him as well, Al-Fareed...not that he had ever met someone with that name, but in the way that he might have read it somewhere, in one of the countless history books that surrounded him daily. It seemed, when they had returned to Narnia, that all he did at first was read history books, trying to catch up to all that had happened during their absence. He made a mental note to go through the archives and see what he might find on her family.

Edmund was not of the school of thought that a correct opinion of a person could be formed at first glance, or that it was set in stone. No, he had learned that lesson long ago in the back of an icy sleigh, on a frosty winters' afternoon. No one was ever exactly what they seemed. And this girl seemed a study of contradictions. On the surface she looked to be the perfect Tarkheena – she was graceful, polite, well mannered and perfectly lovely, like a beautiful painting or sculpture. There was an air of innocence and fear to her still– a sort of beguiling youthfulness. It sort of reminded him of Lucy, but where this little Tarkheena was wary, Lucy was bold and exuberant. They might have been two arrows, shot from the same location, going in opposite directions. He ceased his observations as she began to speak.

"Yes," she began, the expression on her face working its way into one of serious concentration and a hint of...insecurity? "If I may, I humbly ask your Majesties to allow me to tell my tale in its entirety, before you question it."

"Yes of course Tarkheena," Lucy said in that way Lucy always had of making you feel better and calm all in the same moment. "Go on - It's quite alright, you know." The Tarkheena looked to Lucy for a short, blunt moment, and then nodded brusquely, smiling a tight lipped smile. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden?

"Very well," she said. "I suppose I must start with...the very beginning. As your majesties are aware, my name is Tarkheena Aara Al-Fareed. My family is of a very old blood line, and my ancestors are very much ingrained in the grand tale of our history. My father was personal adviser to our previous Tisroc (Tash rest him, may he live forever in the almighty kingdom after death) and my brother, Nasir, is a councilman on Tisroc's (may he last forever) grand council of advisers. Your Majesties are undoubtedly aware that one month ago our previous Tisroc, Ramalesh the Third (rest him, may he live forever in the almighty kingdom after death) took ill suddenly, and passed away. He was..." she trailed off for just a moment, as if some memory had seized her unexpectedly and taken hold, and then began again. "He was an exceptional leader," she finished. "He was loved fervently by our people, of all classes and religious sects, from many corners of our region. He was...a most tolerant and benevolent ruler...and extolled most highly. It was upon his death that his son, our current Tisroc, may he live forever, ascended to our highest office. At this time, I was-" she stopped and swallowed briefly, but there was no waver in her voice, "chosen by him to become his first wife, called the Priza in our old language." She pronounced the last word, 'pree-zah', rolling the 'r' slightly.

Edmund couldn't help the swift raising of his eyebrow at her statement. A flash of something rolled through him, filling his mouth with an unpleasant taste, making him bite his tongue; anger, perhaps? Or distaste... he had never agreed with the Calormene practice of multiple wives, and even though the Tarkheena was most assuredly old enough for marriage there, here in Narnia she was probably not even at the age of majority – still a child. Or maybe it was the fact that she obviously had had no choice in the matter that made his brow furrow. He would never have guessed her to be married. If she had simply been a Tarkheena, that was one thing. But the wife of the Tisroc? Well that was quite another matter entirely.

"Of course, we have not yet joined together in matrimony – if a Tisroc should succumb to death, Tash willing it not be so, there must not be any celebrations amongst the people during the mourning period, which lasts for 90 days and nights. It is one of the highest crimes of our land to disregard these rules of mourning. However," she added, almost as an afterthought, "I remain, in utmost gratitude and reverence, his most humble betrothed," she finished.

So – Edmund thought. That made sense. After all, she had given them her own name, hadn't she? He should have realized she was only betrothed – there was no ring on her finger after all, and she wore none of the traditional symbols of a married woman on her person.

"When I came to the Palace of the Tisroc (May he live forever) I began to have...strange dreams."

Edmund watched Peter sit up just a little straighter in his chair. "They were unlike anything I had ever dreamed before. They began simply as flashes of color and sound, but quickly became images of places I had never seen before...never even known existed. I saw great forests and waterfalls, a castle by the sea...and snow unlike anything I had ever imagined, covering stretches of land as large as a desert. Everything I dreamt was incredibly detailed, to a degree where I became convinced that these places must in fact, exist in our world. They were vivid in a way that would be impossible for me to describe. I would wake up freezing, as if I had actually been visiting these places." Peter was really paying attention now, Edmund could see. That sounded a lot like his own visions from before.

"But that is beyond the point, I believe," she finished. "I also saw a great – a great lion," she went on, as if expecting ridicule. Lucy gasped audibly from across the table, her mouth slightly open, and the Tarkheena shot her a wary look, but then continued when no one said anything else. "I do not know the significance of this form," she went on, and Edmund once again found himself in disbelief. She does not know of Aslan? But then he realized that she would have no reason to – thousands of years had gone by with the Narnians expelled to the forest, their customs and religion gone with them. The Calormenes had not believed in Aslan. Why would someone from another country altogether – a woman, no less, who had probably not been educated (as was the custom in Calormen) – know of him? She continued.

"But In my dreams he...spoke to me; he bade me 'go north with a warning'. When the dreams first started I paid this...little mind, admittedly," she said sheepishly, "as I had no idea what this dream-lion might have been referring to, or if he was even real, or if these dreams were just... anxiety, perhaps, an escape of some kind...again, I was hesitant to believe them. I tried very hard to ignore them; I took sleeping draughts, the most powerful that could be prescribed, I attempted many times to go without sleep, but nothing was able to rid me of the dreams. They still came every night, always more vivid than before. There was nothing that happened in the dreams, just images of places, but every time they came I would wake utterly exhausted and anxious. I had no idea what they could mean, and for weeks they continued, keeping me in a state of paranoia. It was a... trying time, to say the least. However, one night...three weeks ago now, I was in a part of the palace I was not supposed -" she broke off with a small breathy laugh.

"But, that is not significant. What is significant is the conversation I overheard that night. Truly, I was not surprised as to the content of the conversation, but it was then that I realized this was what the Lion in my dream must have meant by a warning. I heard many men in a room – among them, the Tisroc (may he live forever) and other men of significant influence...military commanders, generals, some few members of the council. Some I did not recognize, others I knew well. What connected them all – the ones I knew, at least- was that they all of them heavily supported many of the Tisroc's new initiatives...heavy taxation of the poor, further restrictions on women, military action against the tribes that live somewhat separate from us in the great desert...many of them also for further expansion of our borders. I know this because of my brother, Nasir, who is –" she cut off again, as if trying to find the words delicately, "-one of some numbers who significantly oppose these initiatives. He was, as was my father, very loyal to Ramalesh...very believing in his ideals and goals."

Now this was interesting – it made Edmund think back to what Glenstorm had said about spheres of influence in the south. Ramalesh the third had been a good ruler, if a distant one; in the past four years Narnia had not once had a skirmish with Calormen. However, that didn't mean that relations were open and friendly, per se...just...neutral. But he treated his people well and was well loved as the Tarkheena said. It was certainly intriguing to hear of her family's affiliation with him.

"They spoke plainly of war with your country," she said, without preamble or flowery pretext, and there was a brief epoch of silence; a small moment of profound gravity in which a ruler recognizes that his fear has come to pass, that indeed someone has been plotting to take the lives of those he calls his citizens.

"The Tisroc is a proud, cruel man - he longs for glory, not justice...he would go to war with you, and lead not only your own countrymen to death, but also my own, for the sake of his own aspirations. " She was speaking in a sad tone, her accent strong in her melancholy.

"When I heard this, it became clear that these dreams...or visions, perhaps, were...willing me to play a role. I realized that the dreams and the dream Lion which had plagued me for so long were in fact a sign from Tash. And so I endeavored to fulfill the task Tash set before me, and now, have done. I bring you this warning in the hopes that it may aid you in some way," she finished.

Edmund shifted his eyes away from the Tarkheena and to those of his siblings, looking to Peter last. The mood was heavy and grim. So it was true then; this little Tarkheena had heard it herself. The new Rabadash was as empty-headed as the first, and was planning for war. Peter spoke at last, his voice strong and clear above the din that seemed to fill Edmund's ears.

"So then it is as we had predicted," he said. "It will come to war." The Tarkheena's eyes widened, as if surprised at Peter's easy belief in her statements. "Does his Majesty – how does – you are willing to take only my word as proof of intent to war?" She asked incredulously. A grim smile lit Peter's face. "If only it were simply your word, my Lady, things would be much simpler," he said. She didn't understand.

"Doctor Cornelius told you that we had been expecting you, did he not?" he asked.

"Yes...he did, but I-"

"It is because I have had dreams as well," he interrupted. "Only mine have been of you, my Lady," he finished pointedly. "The night you left Tashbaan, I saw it," he said, "and every night thereafter until you crossed the border I dreamt of you, along the desert road and in the mountains." He continued to tell her of the dreams, speaking frankly and candidly of them and what he had seen. The Tarkheena's expression was still one of cautious disbelief, until she realized something.

"So you – knew me. Earlier," she said slowly, the expression on her face changing to slight betrayal, as we all feel when encounter a white lie.

"Yes," Peter said, the word coming out on a breath. "I apologize for the small deception – my only goal was to see if you too had known us in the same way – if, as I was experiencing visions of you, you were also having them of me."

She nodded, as if not quite sure whether to believe that or not. "No," she said. "I never once dreamed of any person. None but the lion."

"Aslan!" Lucy said excitedly, and the Tarkheena looked to her. "I...what?" she asked, the sentence completely devoid of any grace or etiquette. Edmund felt bad for the poor girl – after all, she hadn't asked for all this confusion, had she?

"The Lion – it's Aslan! The highest King, the creator of Narnia. Look!" she said, standing and pushing plates from the middle of the table to the sides, handing one platter to Susan and another to Caspian, and picking up the maps and charts laid flat on its surface and gathering them in her arms. "See?" she asked, pointing to the now visible bare surface of the dark cherry wood table. There, on the tabletop, was ingrained in gold leaf and silver a beautiful and ornate portrait of Aslan. Edmund watched as Aara's brow furrowed, her bandaged hand coming forward to lightly touch the image of the Lion.

"This is who you saw, yes?" Lucy asked.

The Tarkheena was silent for a moment, nodding her head slightly. "Yes," she said quietly, still entranced by the image on the table.

"Four years ago," Lucy said, "my siblings and I were called back to Narnia after thousands of years had passed here. We came to put Caspian on his rightful throne as a King of Narnia." Edmund watched Aara nod – she obviously knew the story. "Afterwards, we thought we'd be sent back by Aslan to our world – where we originally came from – but we weren't. And this is why – it's a prophecy, here, you see? In all that time we'd been gone, something changed – and this became the future – this, here, happening right now. Aslan told us that one day, a change would come on the western wind that would bring us joy and life, but also pain and suffering. These past weeks you've been having dreams of him, telling you to come here to Narnia. And Peter's been having dreams of you. And then last night a terrible storm rolled in on the western wind, and brought you here, to us."

"It's how we believe you," Lucy said kindly. "Aslan came to you and spoke with you – Peter saw it when he saw you in his visions. You couldn't mean to harm us, not if Aslan's put his faith in you. After all, he led you to us! How could you be anything but good?"

Aara was absolutely dumbfounded. This lion was...the very image of the one she had seen in her dreams. This was their God? What did this mean? And this talk of a...prophecy , it allsounded absolutely ludicrous...she believed in Tash – he was her god, her religion. She did not believe in these northern gods...

But there was no denying it...no denying the existence of Him. She had seen the lion, followed him...and she could remember the feeling of revelation she'd had when listening to the men in that room...remembered thinking that it all made sense, that she wasn't going crazy...

If there was no stock to be put in any of this, then why was she standing here now? Thousands of miles away from home, committing treason? It had seemed real enough then; real enough to commit to it, anyhow. Was it just saying it out loud that scared her? Her mind was all a jumble, nothing made sense.

But the littlest Queen was bright and comforting next to her, all smiles and calm words.

"Don't fret, dear Lady!" she said. "Here, sit down, won't you?" she asked, placing the maps and charts back on the large table, and helping Aara back down into her chair. She then sat back down in her own chair, keeping one arm twined with Aara's all the while.

"I apologize," Peter said. "This must be – quite a lot of information for you to take in. But as I said, it isn't just your word. It's Aslan's...and mine, and...fate, maybe; along with some...other things that substantiate your claims."

"What things?" Aara asked, feeling utterly exhausted. She didn't know why she felt so wretched – after all, her biggest fear had been that these monarchs would call her a liar, and not believe a word she said. Wouldn't that have been the worst case scenario? But here she was, being met with nothing but acceptance and agreement, and all of a sudden it was as though she couldn't breathe, couldn't even think.

This was real - this was actually happening; there was going to be a war.

There was going to be a war. And she was helping to make it so.

"We have reports that Rabadash is, or has been, constructing a military settlement along the western edge of Calormen, at the base of the Western foothills leading into Archenland."

Aara was quiet, still, not responding to what the King had said. A settlement... it made sense, didn't it? Her brother had often said that money had been disappearing for some months now from public initiatives, but they could never find out what it was going to.

"And there's more," Peter went on. "You should know that soldiers from Rabadash's elite guard were seen in the mountains at the same time you travelled through them."

Aara lifted her head at this news – it seemed abnormally heavy, as if it weighed a ton. Why was she so weary? "But – I made it through the mountain," she said softly, almost as if she was asking, instead of telling.

"Perhaps retrieving you was not their goal," Susan said softly, her voice like honey; warm and smooth.

"And there have been changes in the stars, as well," Caspian said. "A centaur, Glenstorm, reads the stars with his people – they have agreed that war is coming."

Aara knew nothing of these centaurs – and truth be told, at that moment she cared little about what she thought of the stars. She just wanted to sleep.

"Why Tarkheena," she heard Susan say. "You look positively green! Are you alright?" Aara lifted her hand to her head, in a confused way.

"Yes...of course, my Queen, I'm...perfectly fine. Simply...tired, that is all." The words came out slowly and stilted, prompting Lucy to raise a hand to her forehead.

"You're burning up!" She proclaimed.

"Oh, am I?" She answered, her voice now light and airy, as if drugged.

"We must get you to bed this instant," Lucy said. "Shame on us for bombarding you with all of this when you're hardly well enough for it. Doctor Cornelius is going to be so very disappointed in us Susan," she went on, as she and Susan moved to help Aara into a standing position. Aara noted that the King looked dreadfully sheepish.

"I cannot apologize enough, my lady, I – suppose we were zealous in our quest for answers. Please, you must do as my sisters ask and rest."

"We'll take you to your room, Tarkheena, and bring up Doctor Cornelius," Susan said, managing to look every inch the regal Queen even whilst holding Aara's arm.

"I'm so dreadfully...sorry, your Majesties, I just feel exceptionally...faint," Aara managed to get out.

"Oh it's not your fault at all Lady Aara, you're ill! Now come," Susan said. "You must get some more sleep." The three ladies made to leave, and the Kings rose from the table to watch them go. Their skirts sashayed behind them, filling the now silent room with a swish swish sound. As they walked out of the room, Peter saw briefly the flick of Yagura's tail as he moved to follow behind them. Then, the door was shut.

"Well," Edmund said, one eyebrow raised and a coy smirk upon his face. "That went well." Peter shot him a look. "It did!" he defended. Peter 'hhmmed' thoughtfully as the three of them descended back into silence.

"What did you think of her?" Peter asked quietly.

"Lucy has taken a liking to her," Caspian added. "And any friend of Queen Lucy's is a friend of mine," he said, referring to Lucy's uncanny ability to judge a persons' character.

"I don't see any reason we shouldn't," Edmund added in. "She seems exceptionally genuine. Very confused. I don't envy her."

"I understand the hardship of it," Caspian said. "It is always difficult to fight against your own people, even if their ruler is corrupt. You look into their eyes on the battlefield, or wherever, and even if you have never met them before you share a birthplace, still, and that is a powerful thing. You wonder about your own identity. It is...trying. I think she must have reserves of strength, yes?" he finished on a teasing note.

"She does look like a meek little thing, doesn't she?" Edmund teased. "And so proper!"

"That's what I thought!" Peter joined in. "Does she look like she could cross a mountain?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, she is pretty banged up though. I mean she's still ill," Edmund said.

"Susan and Lucy are going to mother her. They love that. They'll make her their little pet," Peter interjected, picking up a grape from the table.

"No," Edmund objected, "Only Lucy." They all laughed.

"Indeed," Caspian agreed. "But putting humor aside, we must focus on the task at hand. The ball, first – we must alert the other rulers as quickly as possible. Other than that, what can we do? Nothing. We can do nothing until the enemy makes a move first. Until Donar sends word, or Rabadash himself, or we are acted upon, we are...how do you say it? There is an expression, I can't recall it...sitting...what?"

"Ducks," Peter and Edmund chorused together.

"Yes," Caspian sighed. "Sitting Ducks."


reviews are lovely!