The Ivory Merchants

Chapter Nine: Breathless

His first sight of Reznar's home village took his breath away.

"We build from trees," they had told him, as they had slogged the two days' journey from where the last of the ferry elephants (or Elephants, his mind insisted; what if he had abandoned them, and they were...) hauled the dripping chains.

"We build from trees," and then they talked further about the felling of the trees, in the western forests, and the work-teams of elephants. (Elephants. The Ravens had said that these might be, and this would be his last chance to return some of the lost Calves to the Nharhh...)

"Ah, King, we have conquered both elephant and forest! There's no house being built now, or else you'd see how the elephants work for us there, too. To build a house is a great work, a work fit for Men. The roof-raising... that is a great thing to see..."

It had been no use. He had listened with less than half his mind, while the rest of it went over and over again the scenes with the slaves. The Free Elephants who would not listen unless he found and freed their Calves, the slaves who would not even seem to see him - but might after all be those he needed to free.

But still Reznar had babbled on about the village he was going to, and how, after seeing Cair Paravel they wanted to show him their great houses, and let him meet their great people, and hear the music... And Hoom, striding ahead, had not demurred, and even Nim and Wily had seemed pleased and excited, eager to show whatever it was that they thought Telmar had to offer. Houses built from trees... yes. And campfires, he expected, and goat stew and foraged forest food. A village built of forest-timber, where Telmarines and their unknown chieftain, Capun, led a rough camp-life, though adequate enough, he supposed.

Savages, the silken Calormene ambassador, Neerzat, had called them, and, yes, it was hard to see how wooden huts, where rough forest-dwellers who had not even advanced to the notion of kingship, could offer any of the gentilesse or courtesy which other peoples knew.

But then...they had come through the trees into an open space, and before him was a..a temple, a cathedral, a .. he didn't have the words for this wildly soaring magnificence, with roof upon roof, up and up in high, swooping curves, graceful and airy, almost poised for flight.

It took his breath away, and Reznar laughed exultantly, for pleasure in his amazement, Edmund thought. Indeed, they were all looking at him with the same pleasure, even Hoom, who could not forebear hitting home the message.

"Now you see, do you not, King? the difference between Men and Beasts. Did you think we lived in our home as we camped in the forest?"

And the rebuke was merited, he acknowledged, silently, even as he drew nearer, and could take in the solidity of the towering pillars, and the broad intricately-carved balcony which ran the full front of the building, high off the ground, but still far below the high-winged roofs. He had always imagined that grandeur in architecture came with stone, brick, metal and glass, the creamy stone of many-turreted Cair Paravel with its glittering windows, or Red Anvard, with its curious jade-green cupolas, or the rumoured marble courts of Tashbaan.

This place, though - this had a grandeur of its own. Even the very timber itself - he found himself gazing, as he ascended, at the solid treads of the steps, each a massy timber slab, jutted into the timber columns, but airy-seeming, with no riser between. Above, on the balcony, a small cluster of Telmarine women and men - Reznar's family, he supposed - waited to greet him, but he paused, wondering, to look at the wood of the steps. It was a type unknown in Narnia, a solid, reddish timber, whose grain ran in fascinating curls - he could not resist leaning forward to trace with his finger those whorls, curling like stormclouds, each step a wonder in itself.

Wonderful timber, and wonderfully fashioned. Yes, the visiting Telmarines had seemed rough, hard traders against the background of Cair Paravel, and the Herd had called them clever hunters, but here they were revealed as something else - as more than clever in their making, and as even... he felt a sudden misgiving... as even formidable, in their ability to dominate and use what they found around them: the Elephants, and the forest. Formidable, but also... he saw around him in the village now the reality of Telmar. He had been judging Telmar by a handful of men, of traders, all men, all, but now he was seeing a fuller life - women, families, the young and the old, some waiting to greet him, some working or about their own business in a life which he suddenly saw was much, much more complex than he had imagined. This was not a simple band of hunters and traders, a few scattered Men, suppliant to Narnia; this was a whole culture. A civilisation.

o-o-o-o-o

"Kirrina!"

Green slippery seaweed coated the rocks, and in her haste to get to the familiar cave-mouth Lucy slithered, and banged her knee once or twice, when she almost fell, but the urgency of the moment meant that she hardly felt the hurts.

"Kirrina! It's time! He's sent!"

No voice replied, but that was not unusual; part of Kirrina's fascination was her half-hiddenness; even to find her felt like triumph, and to have her as a friend was exciting, even when they did nothing more than dabble in the rockpools, and talk, or venture half-way back (Kirrina had never let her go any deeper) into the dark, drippy cave - and then there were the times when she had suggested things which felt very exciting indeed, like when they had joined to lure the Calormene Ambassador into getting very, very wet and muddy, after he had tried to make Susan unhappy. Though Lucy hadn't liked it, then, when Kirrina had joked (she supposed it had been a joke) about actually drowning him. Still, Kirrina - Kirrina, who could do anything at all, it seemed - had simply laughed when Lucy had objected and dropped the idea.

"Kirrina!" Lucy stood at the cave mouth, peering in, blocking out the sunlight with both hands around her face. Slowly she began to make out a darker shadow in the shadows, seated on a rock against the cave-wall, the shape of a girl of Lucy's own size, who - Lucy could see now - was looking directly back at her.

"Why don't you ever answer? We've got to go!"

"I don't need to answer." Kirrina's voice, as usual, was brimming with secret laughter, as if she knew much more than she chose to tell. "Anyone who loves me can find me, and anyone who doesn't... Well, you have found me, Daughter of Eve. Are you still set to journey with me, and find and free the Elephants? This will not be easy."

Lucy stamped her foot.

"You know I am! This is my job, as much as Edmund's. And you promised to help."

"I did. And are you ready to go now?"

Lucy touched the bottle of cordial which hung at her right side, and the dagger on her left hip, and then her chest. "Yes. I went to the Dwarfs, like you said; it's here. Should I have brought food? You said no satchel."

"Nothing that might catch in a narrow way."

"What about the cordial, or the dagger?"

"Winterfather's gifts? Never fear for those - they can go wherever I can! As for food, if we should separate, maybe you will go hungry. Do you fear that, Daughter of Eve?"

"Of course not!"

"Then we are ready, and we will go."

Lucy moved forward, treading carefully on the uneven floor.

"Is it...it is through the end of your cave? Is there a tunnel?"

"No. There is a river. Give me your hand."

"I...I'm not a very good swimmer."

"Perhaps not. But this river will not drown you. Give me your hand."

Lucy reached out and took hold; Kirrina's slim brown fingers gripped surprisingly strong, and pulling her towards the mysterious back of the cave where she had never been, and then splashing ankle-deep in water, waist-deep into a pool of dark water. The darkness had deepened, but against it Kirrina seemed more visible than before, the same Kirrina, with her clear brown skin and tumbling brown curls, and laughing, fierce, compelling eyes.

"Now, hold tight!"

And then the water was higher, or else they had sunk into it, Lucy thought confusedly. It was all around them, with a growing power, rippling and tugging and swirling and rushing with irresistible strength, dragging her down, down, under a crushing, terrifying, powerful weight of dark water.

o-o-o-o-o

"Windseer! Mrs Beaver! Forgive me... I'm somewhat distracted. My sister..."

"Queen Lucy? Majesty?"

"I don't know where she is. I wondered if you, if either of you, knew."

"No, Majesty."

"No. But there's no cause to be worriting, I'm sure of that."

"I really hope not! I've sent a Raven to Mr Tumnus. And I've asked them to scout out towards the west, and they say she hasn't gone that way, so she can't have..."

"To the west, Majesty? You have reason to think Her Majesty has left for the west?"

"The Elephants in Telmar... we all said it was something we had to do, if they were Narnians trapped there and enslaved...I know she was wanting to get help to Edmund. You heard his message."

Their two faces, so different from each other, looked at her with identical expressions of intent assessment and deep compassion.

"But she promised that she wouldn't go anywhere without going with an adult, and who apart from you, and Mr Beaver...? It must be Tumnus. She must be with Tumnus... But she said... she sounded so..." The Queen's eyes flicked anxiously from one to the other of her Councillors; their silence fuelling her fears. "She sounded so grown-up. And she said Trust me! And then... I haven't seen her since then."

Mrs Beaver laid one small, leathery paw on the Queen's arm, and spoke gently, but very certainly.

"She's not gone anywhere with Beaver, at any rate, nor Tumnus wouldn't take her anywhere, dear, not without saying to you. But what about her own special friend?"

"I'm sorry...I shouldn't be worrying either of you," said the Queen, and laughed, shakily. "She hasn't gone anywhere at all, I know, because the Ravens said they hadn't seen her. I just don't know where she is!"

Their expression of compassion did not lighten. Windseer spoke first.

"I read this matter otherwise, majesty. To me it seems, and I believe that it seems so to you also, that asking for your trust was sign that she is about her business as Queen, to care for and protect Narnians."

Susan stared at him; the attempt at laughter ebbed from her face.

"I think you're right. I do think so. But how can it be? She said she would only go with an adult, and the Ravens have seen nothing..."

"The how I cannot say, but that she is about a valiant action I do not doubt. We rejoice that the trust between you is strong that she could call on it, and that you give it freely, though I sorrow that the giving brings its own price. Anxiety is a harder burden than action, Majesty. It is a right and fitting thing that the Council help you bear it."

Mrs Beaver pursed her lips.

"And to speak plain... well... the Ravens. They see all you can see from air, I don't doubt. But they don't see all. And as for how, well, there's nothing to be gained by blinking facts."

"What do you mean? What fact?"

"Her own friend, love. Who else would she go with, if not her own friend?"

"Kirrina? No. No... she promised. She would only go with an adult. Kirrina's only a little girl!"

"Hsshh!" Mrs Beaver pushed gently at Susan, "Not a girl, dear Queen."

Windseer seemed startled. "She told you her name, Majesty? All four of you call her by name?"

"Oh, she told us part of it..." Susan brushed aside the irrelevancy. "She's got a much longer name... she was telling it to Lucy, bit by bit..."

"Oh, my dear. Oh, Windseer... " Mrs Beaver fell silent, her short, furry face working with mingled awe and sympathy.

"She pays you all great honour, Majesty, and to the Queen Lucy an honour not heard for many years."

"Who... Kirrina? What do you mean? She's only a little... Naiad."

"Not a Naiad, dear. Naiads show the sunshine on the water."

"A little water-girl, then! I don't know... whatever it is her sort's called. But she's only little... only young! What do you mean.. many years?"

"She's who she is; if she's been telling you her name, then you know it better than we do. And as to years - she's not one bound by years, dear, and not bound by death, either. Not much can hold or bind that one!"

"Not bound by death?" Susan was breathless with confusion, and then with sudden realisation. "An Immortal? She looks like a little girl, but she's an Immortal?"

"Oh, yes, dear, like my own river. As old as Narnia itself, like the Great River. But she's... none of us knows her much. She only shows herself when she wants to be seen."

"She's a river? An Immortal and a river? Not a Naiad? And what river?"

"Naiads live in rivers, dear, you know that," Mrs Beaver said, reproachfully. "Rivers and springs. But this one - she is the river. She's like the Great River, she runs right the way across Narnia - comes down from above the Wall, and the dear knows where before that. But we none of us don't know her much. She doesn't have any Naiads, not any Beavers neither, of course. She runs on her own, that one, all the way."

"I don't understand! There's no other river which runs the length of Narnia - and where could she have taken Lucy?"

"Oh, she runs underground, dear. If you can see her - and there's plenty who can't - you must be able to see that."

"Underground!" The Queen looked aghast. "Underground! Then that's where Lucy is! Oh" and the words came out nearly in a wail, "Oh Lucy! She has gone... Mrs Beaver!"

"Now, don't you worry. Worry never helped anyone. If that one has taken to our Lucy, as she must have done... well, it's a mighty honour is all."

"But Lucy... she's only a child!"

Windseer's mouth quirked, but he shook away the thought, and answered seriously.

"She is a Queen, Your Majesty. You have yourself undertaken the Queenship of this country, and also to be its Chatelaine. You would not stand between her and her own Queenship?"

There was a pause, and then a slow, reluctant, "No..."

Mrs Beaver patted the Queen's arm comfortingly.

"Of course not! We know how you four stand by each other - let alone she's growing up fast! She's two years older now than she was when you came, and she has seen and known more than most. And all our lives are in the Lion's paws, remember, no matter what."

o-o-o-o-o

It had not even been their main village. Capun, their chief, lived elsewhere, it seemed, and was lying so ill that all four of his travelling companions discounted the idea that Edmund might pay a courtesy visit to him. Edmund recalled that it had been Capun who had decreed some years ago - many years ago - that there should be a halt to the hunting of Elephants for ivory, and decided that perhaps age was compounding the illness; maybe death was near. Did they elect their chiefs for life, he wondered? Or even elect them at all? It was suddenly clear to him how much Narnia did not know about Telmar.

"I must see him," Hoom announced. "King, it will be a two days' journey for me." he hesitated and then continued, "Better that you rest here until I return, I think. We can all travel then to find the elephants who work for the logging."

It was a shift from Hoom's earlier insistence on being beside the Narnian king every time they met with Elephants - definitely a recommendation, not an insistence, Edmund thought, and wondered uneasily how much this was because Hoom had begun to believe that the mission to free the Elephants was failing - had already failed, and that close guard need not be kept on the visitor? It was a dispiriting thought, and even more dispiriting was that he found in himself an answering reluctance to make that last part of his journey, to see the last group of Elephants and try to win them to freedom. If he failed a third time, then he had failed indeed; it was easier to fall in equably with Hoom's suggestion.

And they would have stopped the night in the village in any case, and Reznar's family - if all these were his family - were friendly, if curious, and the thought of a meal in warm domesticity was appealing, and it was even somehow heartening to hear that it was the one he had anticipated - goat stew.

He stood to farewell Hoom, who was clearly anxious to be away quickly, and then sat back down where he had been, cross-legged, on the broad woven grass mat, beside Reznar.

"You can eat it, King?" It was Hurrdah, Reznar's tall, graceful mother.

Why not? he had wondered, and his question must have shown in his face, because she replied, courteously, "We have heard that you count beasts as brothers, and ate only plant-food on the journey. Or is it only the ivory-bearers that you hold to be like humans?"

"No. Dumb beasts are not my cousins, but all the Talking Beasts of Narnia have my love and care."

She raised her eyebrows, but made no further comment, handed him a bowl of the stew. It smelt very good, and he accepted it gratefully.

"Better than travel-rations, hey, King?" came in a sharp whisper from behind.

Edmund smiled without turning round; he knew Wily's voice.

"Nor so different, either," he said over his shoulder. There's fresney in here, and that tree-fungus, if I don't miss my guess."

"Woodcurd. Fresney'll grow anywhere, but you can thank Nim's love-life for the woodcurd; he brought it back to give to..."

There was a sound of a scuffle. Edmund grinned, but didn't turn around. Beside him, Reznar grinned too, pointedly, at the young woman sitting beside him. She continued to eat, placidly, though her colour rose a little.

It was to distract attention from herself, Edmund thought, that she looked across at him and asked, "How do you find our village, King? How does it compare to Narnia?"

"I much admire the buildings here, and the welcome that has been given me!" he answered, easily enough; the past months in Narnia had given him great experience in fielding such open - and possibly troublesome - questions. "I have had no chance to experience anything else yet."

"We will have to show you more! You are staying with us until Hoom returns?"

"Yes, if he returns in two days, as he said."

He did not miss the quick glance which passed between her and Reznar, and noted privately that whether Hoom had returned or not, he would leave in two days to find the Elephants of the timber-teams.

Meanwhile, Telmar did indeed lack the courtliness of more eastern nations; Reznar had not thought to introduce the woman, though she was apparently one of his family, and clearly close to him. Well, if the host will not, then the guest must, he thought...

"May I ask your name, mistress?"

"I am called Mavram. This Reznar is my brother. And this," she gestured to the girl who was pressing up behind her, "is Izrah, our younger sister, who is very curious about the man from the east."

Edmund laughed. The girl was a little younger than Lucy; her eyes were round with amazement.

"What would you like to ask me?" he said, but Izrah hid her face in her sister's sleeve.

"I think she wants to know why Easterners think animals can talk."

"If her brother has reported truly, she will know that he saw in the east animals that can talk."

"Half-beasts, I saw," Reznar admitted, grudgingly. "And one or two small beasts that spoke. But no elephants."

"Nor do they speak here," said Mavram, "and so the trade road will soon be open. Once Hoom has told Capun..."

"I will not speak of the trade road yet," Edmund said gravely. "That will be a matter for me to talk with your leaders after I have concluded my meeting with the Elephants."

"Reznar is a leader!" Izrah darted her face out to say, indignantly. Reznar himself looked a little taken aback at that, and Mavram seemed uncomfortable.

"Izrah!" came as a sharp rebuke from Hurrdah; he was surprised to realise she was so near. "Little girls should not speak of such things at such a time."

At such a time? Meaning when Capun lay ill, and the future leadership was in doubt, Edmund wondered. But...

"Let's talk of other matters." he said, quickly. "I have heard that Telmarine women are wise in the ways of plants, Mistress Mavram. Is it wild plants for food that you know, or garden plants?"

"You only know two kinds of plants in the east?" she mocked. "We know many here!"

"What others then?" he smiled, and Izrah re-emerged to listen to her sister.

"There are many herbs for healing, of course, but much other use as well. Do you have vines, in the east? Or berries for washing? bark for cloth, and trees for building..."

"Trees for building? Like these?"

"Yes. Our houses grow very high, do they not? Men build higher now than they did once, my grandmother says."

"Very high indeed," he replied absently. "Tell me, if women deal with trees, and men deal with animals, who controls the business of the timber-Elephants in the south-west forest?"

He heard a muted crow from behind, and "hear him! Smoky!"; evidently Wily was much amused at the question.

Mavram, on the other hand, was not. She jerked her head angrily, and said, "Women. We should control where they go and what trees they take."

"But men own the beasts, and men drive them!" came from behind, and Reznar looked uncomfortable.

"The king is tired, doubtless, and would like to rest."

Once again, it was Hurrdah's cool, strong voice, and once again, it effectively stopped the discussion; Edmund acquiesced to her suggestion, and allowed Reznar to lead him to a sleeping corner, rather like a stall in a stables. It was his first night to sleep under a roof since he had left Cair Paravel, he reflected; he would not be able to signal his usual 'all's well' tonight.

Nevertheless, he thought, things were not quite as desolate as he had feared just a few days earlier. He was beginning to know something of Telmarine culture, about their leadership, and about the divisions between men and women in relation to the timber-Elephants; he resolved that on the morrow he would make it his business to find out a great deal more.

o-o-o-o-o

When next she was able to think, the water was sinking down from around her; the air around her smelt damp and earthy, and somehow spacious, as if she was standing in a vast cavern. She felt her hand immovably caught, and realised slowly that it was Kirrina's strong grip which still held her; she tugged away a little, and the grip tightened in response.

"Hold tight, still, Daughter of Eve. Our journey is only half-done."

She could see nothing. She could hear the water, making gurgling, sucking sounds as it drained, and more distantly a thread, a whispering, of other noises through the dark. She peered into the nothingness, and thought she could see Kirrina's bright, intent eyes, her cheekbones and her forehead, but that was all.

"Where are we? What was that?"

"We are close to the western border of Narnia. We came through the water."

Through the water. But they had not been swimming. They had been under the water, or had been part of the water. Lucy felt a sudden breathlessness, a sick, panicky feeling; the cool spaciousness of the air was maybe a delusion, maybe she was trapped, and the dark was coming in... Kirrina's hand closed even more tightly on her wrist.

"Be calm. What is my name, Daughter of Eve?"

Kirrina's name. Lucy pulled her mind to concentrate on that, on what she had been told, away up in the open air. Open air, and just before the Trade Fair; it felt unimaginably far away. She reached down into the memory, concentrated hard, and the sick feeling began to go away.

"It's very long. Kirrina... Kirrinakgurruna. But you haven't told me all of it, you said."

"No. Nor can I yet, but you do well. Hear this now... Kitagkirrinakgurrunalon."

"Should I say it?"

"Ah! Daughter of Eve! You grow wiser by the day!" Kirrina's voice sounded exultant. "No, do not say it, but hold it ready to be said, if I ask it."

"I will." It was good to know Kirrina was pleased with her, but Lucy still felt a slight sickness; it was strange to feel so unsure of things. "You said we came through the water. Was it a river? Was I breathing water?"

"Yes, the river. As long as you hold my hand, the river is yours to live in or to travel in. We have travelled far."

"I thought we were going fast!" Lucy felt more herself now, more sure of herself and of Kirrina, too, who just for a moment had seemed like someone she didn't know at all.

Kirrina laughed. "Yes, very fast! But now will come a harder part. The river travels far under Narnia, but it comes into Narnia from other lands. Do you recall that I did not play with you in wintertime, Daughter of Eve?"

Lucy felt wary again; it had been a long time of desertion, of hanging on to believing that Kirrina was still her friend, though she wouldn't come to play.

"Yes."

"In wintertime the great glaciers hold the river tight. But in the summertime, now, they let me be free, and it seeps down through rock, through the rock which the Narnians call the Wall, which marks the end of their land. You have done well, and wisely, to trust me this far. But now we must find our way through rock, which will take more than trust."

"What will it take?"

But Kirrina was already tugging again at her hand, and Lucy followed, stumbling.

o-o-o-o-o

Dry. Thin shadowed faces, and thin, spindly limbs, thin as twigs, but drier than any twig, long spidery limbs; they looked as if they would snap at a touch.

"Look away," hissed Kirrina. "Look down at your feet. They don't like to be looked at."

"But they are Narnians?" Lucy asked, obediently looking down.

"In a way," said Kirrina. "Shhhh..."

She could feel them now, all around. The more she didn't look at them, the more she could feel them, around her and behind her.

Kirrina spoke, but not in words, or not words Lucy knew. It sounded like a dry rustling of leaves, not like Kirrina's own voice at all. And a dry rustling response, like a soft hissing, and then a silence.

"Shhhhhh..." Kirrina said again. It felt like ages, waiting, and then Kirrina tugged her forward again, and there was a long thin crack in the rock, which hadn't been there before, a crack like a dark thread running from top to bottom of the cavern wall, and Kirrina was pulling her towards it.

"But I can't fit.." she began.

"You are with me and you can! I have bargained with them for a way for you. You must."

Lucy felt panic begin to catch at her breath again; the dark, urgent face before her softened a little.

"Did you not demand that I help you to reach these Elephants, Human Child? This is the way there."

If this was the way, this was the way. She did not see how, but maybe - she was at the rock, and it was hard to make her body do what she wanted it to, even with Kirrina's hand still tugging her on. But if it was the only way, then she had to... and then she was inside.

It was wrong, and not where she should be. The rock felt - not hostile, but not her own place, not Narnia. She felt a terrible scraping; the rock scraped at her side, at all of her, and anyway, how could she be inside the rock? She tugged back urgently at Kirrina, but it did no good; she was pulled relentlessly forward, and up, and the rock was hard, and all around her. "We can't stop!" Kirrina hissed, "Climb!"- and for an instant Lucy felt almost as if it was an enemy pulling at her, and wanted to fight back, to pull away and somehow get back to green grass and open air. But...

But this was the way to the Elephants, and the way Kirrina - Kitagkirrinakgurruna... - was leading, and somehow she was moving through the rock, held by the fierce, clutching hand and fiercer eyes, and there was no help for it.

She gave in, and set aside the impossibility of it all, and began to climb, inside the rock where it made no sense to be climbing, but somehow footholds were there, and if she wasn't exactly breathing...well, she supposed she hadn't been breathing in the water, either.

o-o-o-o-o

o-o-o

A/N: Australians may recognise the mimi, the rock-spirits, from Yolngu legend and painting; they live in the high rock-country of Arnhemland. And they were written about by the late Patricia Wrightson in her YA fantasy series The Song of Wirrun.

Also, alas, the months of July and August are going to be very cram-packed for me, and I don't know how well I'll be able to keep up the updates to this story. :( Apologies if (if! It's pretty well a certainty!) there are gaps in those two months.