THE RIGHT THING
"You did well today, Zahar," the fat lady commended from her desk, counting the piles of coins from the day's work.
Zahar bowed her head subserviently. She had learned in her years of service that the fat lady expected acquiescence from her courtesans, no matter how powerful the courtesan had become.
For, no matter how the fat lady had refused to acknowledge it, in the six years since Zahar had arrived at the brothel she had become the person with all of the power. Zahar was now the oldest courtesan at seventeen years old, for all of the others had died of job-related illness. Zahar, however, had been smart enough to investigate how one might avoid such illnesses, and even though there was no guarantee of health even with such preventions, Zahar was healthy, though lamentably thin.
The power she held did not come from her age and health, however, though it was one of the reasons the younger courtesans respected her so much. Her power came from her clients. Zahar was by far the favorite of all the courtesans, and clients were required to make appointments to see her. Her price was far beyond the others, but it didn't deter the Tarkaans who had heard from their friend about the mysterious Zahar and who would pay dearly to know if the rumors were true.
Zahar ruled the brothel, brought in the money, and commanded the respect of her peers. Yet she was more than willing to appease the fat lady when necessary, for power was all the more enjoyable when others didn't have an inkling that you knew how much you had.
The fat lady stopped counting and rose from her chair awkwardly. She waddled over to Zahar, her necklaces rattling as she went. She stopped before the tall courtesan and looked up.
"Zahar, you have been chosen for a special honor."
"What honor is that?"
The lady shook her head as if what she was about to say was too incredible to believe. "Prince Rabadash has requested that you sup with him tonight."
Zahar froze, completely stunned. All of her work had led up to this point, when she would attract the notice of a noble person and have the opportunity to leave the brothel...But being asked by the Prince had secured her place as the most desirable courtesan in the country. It was more than even she had dreamed of.
"Well? What do you have to say to that?" the lady asked.
"Thank you," Zahar choked. "I don't know what to say."
A small, sad smile was on the woman's face. "We'll miss you, my dear. And I'll get an outrageous price for you, no doubt about that. But how you managed to survive this long is a miracle. Tash must favor you greatly."
Zahar looked down, feeling overcome. This was the first time in her life that she had felt fortunate.
"I never thought I'd say this either, my lady, but I do believe the gods are looking out for me."
How Aravis and Lasaraleen managed to get to very near the center of the Telmarine camp without someone noticing Aravis' fine clothes, Aravis never figured out. When pressed later, all she could ever do was shrug and say that Aslan had been watching out for her.
The Telmarine camp was sprawled out within a wide valley next to a small lake that Aravis had never heard of. They were very far west, because Aravis saw no hint of Archenlanders near, and the Telmarines weren't overly concerned about being spotted.
It occurred to Aravis that maybe the Telmarines weren't concerned about being spotted because of the immense size of their force. Fallowtan must not have gotten a good look at the troops through the trees, she guessed, for there were a good two thousand troops here. If Archenlanders did spot them, they would run in fear to Narnia, not wanting to be in the path of this war force that would no doubt conquer Anvard easily.
"Oh, I do hope Anvard will be ready for a long siege," Aravis said as Lasaraleen dug through her trunk for something for Aravis to wear.
They were now in the courtesan tent, which was very large and sectioned off so that the Telmarines, who were rather self-conscious about their bodies, could have some privacy when they visited. They were in Lasaraleen's section in the back, which besides the small trunk had some furs on the ground, along with a small heater.
"Dear, there's not going to be anything left of Archenland in two days," Lasaraleen said over her shoulder. "Trust me on that."
Aravis frowned. "You think that we can't fight back? Our knights are better trained than you give us credit for."
Lasaraleen shrugged and pulled out a flimsy dress, holding it against herself. "Whatever you say."
Aravis was puzzled, and more than a little worried at Lasaraleen's confidence, but she was more curious about something else.
"Here, try this on," Lasaraleen said, throwing the dress at Aravis. She sat down, fully expecting Aravis to change in front of her.
Aravis did so slowly, embarrassed and shivering in the cool air. The heater did little to help the room, for the coals hadn't been tended in a while.
"Lasaraleen...How did you end up here, in the middle of a Telmarine war camp?" She pulled the flimsy dress over her head and looked down: it was barely decent, and was slightly loose, but it would definitely allow her to fit in with the other courtesans.
Lasaraleen shrugged and looked away. "It's...complicated."
Aravis knelt down and put her hand on her old friend's shoulder. "Tell me."
Lasaraleen met her eyes. "My husband died. A little over a year ago."
"I'm so sorry, Lasaraleen."
"He left me nothing in the will. Not even a simple living. He was angry that I hadn't given him any children." She poked at the heater to avoid Aravis' eyes. "My family flatly refused to take me back home in the south. They said that they had no use for me, 'an old barren widow.'"
"Oh, Lasaraleen..."
"I had nothing...Nothing, Aravis! Not a crescent to my name, and nowhere to go. It's humiliating to realize that your friends no longer want you when you're poor."
"You should have written to me! I would have helped!"
"How could I have written to you? I couldn't afford to pay for a courier bird, let alone a human messenger! I was literally on the street with only the dress on my back. I tried selling the dress, but it was 'out of fashion,' and I only got enough to feed myself for a day (that was, unfortunately, before it occurred to me to write to you)."
"Then what did you do?"
Lasaraleen paused. "I...tried finding a job, but every place told me the same thing: I'm useless. I know needlework, but I don't know how to make clothing. I know how to eat, but I don't know how to cook. So I went to the brothel. I offered up my services. I became a courtesan. Fortunately, you don't need much training for that."
Aravis was too horrified to speak.
"It wasn't as bad as I imagined it'd be. Apparently the First Wife's mission is to help the courtesans in the brothels, so there's a lot less illness there. I was fed well, and made a decent time of it. I wasn't there long, though, before the First Wife bought a handful of us as a gift to the King of Telmar."
"Why in the world would she give him a gift like that?"
Lasaraleen shrugged, looking more cheerful now that she'd gotten past the less savory parts of her tale. "Perhaps the Tisroc is trying to make peace with Telmar so they don't invade Calormen after they're done with Archenland? I don't know. It's not like they tell us courtesans anything. What we know, we pick up from our male friends.
"Anyway, Queen Bria told King Meridian that he couldn't use the courtesans, so he gave them to his troops. And here we are. It's actually pretty exciting, all in all. I got to see Telmar, and now I'll get to see Archenland. And now you're here!" Lasaraleen tilted her head. "Come to think of it, you still haven't told me why in Hades you're so far west. We're still a day away from Anvard."
"It's a long story," Aravis shrugged. "But the gist is that Cor has been captured."
Lasaraleen frowned. "Cor?"
"The boy I escaped Calormen with?" Aravis prodded. "You met him at Saedra's wedding, remember?"
"Oh, yes! Him! Captured by who?"
"Your Telmarines."
"But why?"
"I have no idea! But I need to get him out of here!"
"Why? I thought he annoyed you."
"He does! But I still need to get him out! They might hurt him!"
Lasaraleen studied her closely. A small, triumphant smile grew on her face.
"What?" Aravis asked defensively.
"You're in love!"
Aravis blinked. "I am not!"
"You are too! Rushing into an enemy camp to rescue your true love...how romantic!"
Aravis wanted to gag. Lasaraleen always did make things more dramatic than they were.
"Well, we must find a way to save your little Cor," Lasaraleen said, looking excited. "If he's a prisoner, I have a good idea where to find him. And we don't have much time; I hear we'll be marching for Anvard shortly."
"There you are!" Corin exclaimed.
Talia turned at the sound of his voice.
"I've been looking everywhere for you."
Talia help up the parchment she was marking. "I've been down here the whole time."
Ever since the conference ended, Talia had been at the front gate keeping track of what refugees came in—and there were a lot. There were young people, old people, children, and everything in-between carrying burdens of clothing and food through the deep snow. Some were dragging in cows and sheep.
She was trying to get a gage on how much food demand to expect once the gates were sealed. Food would be scarce, and she worried more as the crowd of people didn't ease up.
She had also been avoiding Corin. He had been much too reliant on her during the meeting, asking her advice on everything from strategy to food rationing, and it had started to get on her nerves. She had ducked out of the conference chamber as soon as it ended.
Corin stopped next to her. "I wanted to thank you for your help in there, Tal. I really hate this ruling stuff, as you know, so it's a relief that you know what you're doing..."
Talia went back to marking on her parchment as he talked, keeping an eye on the refugees.
"Are you listening to me, Tal?" Corin asked, putting his hand on her arm.
"Mm-hm."
"I'm just trying to tell you that it means so much to me that you stayed behind to help instead of going with Lady Saedra and Edina. You're a great friend. I hope after this is over, we can talk things over and..."
Talia nodded distractedly.
"Tal, are you even listening to me?" he asked, sounding annoyed.
"I'm trying to keep up with the amount of refugees we have, Corin!" she snapped, looking at him. "We have a Telmarine army coming to obliterate us in less than a day, so I don't have time for your thanks! You can thank me if and when we survive this."
Corin looked like she'd slapped him. "What's wrong, Tal?"
She shook her head and sighed. "Nothing, your Highness."
"Don't give me that! I know you well enough to know when something's bothering you."
Talia arched an eyebrow, looking amused as if she were taunting him. "You do, do you?"
"Yes, I do."
Talia turned to face him fully with no trace of amusement on her face. "Well, if you did, you would know that it bothers me when you call me 'Tal.' You also would know that it bothers me when you go out of your way to find me and interrupt my work. You would know that it bothers me when you talk to me cryptically, forcing me to try to figure out your hidden meanings. You would know that it bothers me to see you, so you would stay away from me!"
"You don't like me calling you 'Tal?'" he asked. "But we always have!"
"Did you not hear anything I said?" she cried. "Go away, Corin! I'll help you save Archenland if I can, but I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to go back to the way things were, because we can't! You're married, Corin, so grow up! Cristabelle is your friend now, however lame she might be."
"You don't like Cristabelle?" Corin asked incredulously.
"By the Mane, Corin, you are dense! Why in the world would I like the person that took you away from me?"
They stared at each other. Slow comprehension spread over Corin's face. Talia looked shocked that she had let slip what she had hidden for four years. Now he knew!
"Heavens, Tal, I thought I was the only one who—"
Talia closed her eyes, absolutely mortified. "Don't say anything. Please. You don't need to say anything. I don't need hollow pity."
"I wasn't offering hollow—"
"Just go. Please."
"Tal—"
"Go!"
The nearest refugees stopped at her exclamation, looking at the distressed couple.
"We need to talk," Corin said in a low voice, turning his back on the refugees so he was facing only her.
She felt his breath on her forehead, but refused to open her eyes. If she did, she would have to look at him. She didn't trust herself.
Think of Mother, she told herself, Think of what Mother did...
"No, we don't," she said. "Things never go back to the way things were. We are not friends, Corin. We can never be. I will always care for you, but..."
"But we'll never be close again," he said flatly.
Talia nodded, her jaw set.
"Open your eyes, Tal."
"No."
"I need to see that you mean it," he said, a small catch in his voice.
Talia steeled herself, and looked into his blue, hurt eyes. "I mean it."
Corin swallowed and looked away. "Talia, your friendship has meant so much—"
"None of that. Please."
While still looking away from her, Corin nodded, hesitated, and then went back into the castle without looking back.
Talia sagged, letting out a huge breath. She looked down to see that her hands were shaking, rattling the parchment that had been forgotten.
"Captain!" she called to the nearest soldier at the gate.
"Yes, my Lady!"
"Take over counting the refugees. I need to check on the food storage."
"Yes, my Lady!"
Talia relinquished the document and went into the castle, unsure of how she felt. Corin knew she loved him. In a way, a weight was lifted off of her. He knew. There were no more secrets.
But there was also no hope that she and Corin would ever be friends again. It would be too tempting for Talia, and too awkward for Corin. Saedra had said he didn't love her, but he still had cared about her as a friend. Now their friendship was truly over.
Talia had hoped that she would feel relieved, but she didn't; she felt empty. She had lost one of her best friends for good.
Think of Mother, she thought again. Do what she couldn't do: the right thing.
