Chapter 9-Pursuit

When the four riders trotted up to Ilona, she reacted as any born-and-bred Calormene would; she bowed her head, made herself as small as possible and got out of the way. Even Vesta seemed to agree with her, sidestepping to clear the alleyway behind them and allow the riders through.

So the both of them were more than a bit shocked when the mounted soldiers—Tarkaans all, by the looks of them—reined in their stallions and dismounted. The dismounting startled Ilona more than anything else; the only reasons Tarkaan soldiers dismounted was to arrest someone or to formally honor a superior officer, and she was most definitely not a superior anything. But if they meant to arrest her why hadn't one of them at least stayed mounted in case she ran, and more importantly what had she done?

The captain drew his scimitar, and Vesta lowered her ears, stomping her right foot warningly. Ilona hastily patted her neck. "Easy," she murmured. After a moment of panic she had recognized the position of the Tarkaan's sword; it was not held in a threatening manner, but rather across his chest in a formal salute.

"Peace, noble servant of Tash," said the young Tarkaan. "We bear royal blessings from the great Tisroc Rabadash the Peacemaker (may he live forever) who humbly requests your presence at the palace. Should he fail to greet you the sun should be dark to his eyes and his food have no flavor, for the poets have said, 'The word of the gods is as bread and water to a worthy man'."

Servant of Tash? Ilona thought. Gods above, they think I'm Canisp. "O my master," she began. "There-"

The Tarkaan cut her off respectfully. "No mortal man can claim to be thy master, O my mistress," he said humbly. "You who serve the inexorable Tash are above us all."

"I am not who you think I am!" Ilona insisted. "I am the servant of a changeling, nothing more!" Hoping she hadn't overstepped herself (it was so easy to fall into the habit of speaking freely, among Narnians!) she added piously, "Do not rank I who am unworthy amongst those who have the right of standing before Tash himself on both feet in their shoes."

The Tarkaan was surprised, but hid it well. "Then you are this changeling's mortal companion."

Ilona bowed; without even realizing it, the bow was in Narnian style, not Calormene. "Yes, sir."

The captain nodded and reached out a hand to her. "Come," he said. "We will take you to the Tisroc." Seeing her hesitation, he gave an encouraging smile. "Come, child. I will not hurt you."

Ilona looked at his hand, then into his eyes, and she knew he was telling the truth. He, at least, meant no harm. But the Tisroc? Rabadash the Ridiculous had no fondness for Narnia, and Canisp had already shown that if those she cared about were threatened, she would defend them and hang the consequences.

Rabadash lived on threats. Veiled threats, barely hidden threats, outright threats, ultimatums—he used them and he meant them. But more importantly, he needed Canisp to be his pet angel of Tash. She could be a threat to him just as easily as a benefit if she refused; and if she didn't refuse, she would be expected to conform to Calormene expectations. Things like slave auctions, sacrifices, whippings and public execution fairs flashed behind Ilona's eyes. And once they were inside the palace…

In that moment, she knew that she could never take the hand the captain was offering her. This wasn't what Canisp stood for. She would never stand behind the Tisroc. To refuse outright was suicide…and yet. What choice did she have? Condemn the changeling to slavery herself?

Ilona's terror showed on her face.

And that was all Vesta needed.

Before anyone had time to react, she had whirled around and kicked Ishdar Tarkaan square in the chest, sending him flying backwards. Somehow, Ilona managed to leap and scramble onto Vesta's back, and they shot down the cobbled street as if they had the Vereor on their tail and not four mounted soldiers who thought Ilona had connections with gods.

Connections with gods or not, the soldiers' orders were to bring this girl to the Tisroc, and they barely paused to make sure their captain was unhurt before kicking their horses into pursuit.

Thus began what was possibly the finest race in Calormene history. Vesta could be guided by a feather-light touch, and several times it was only the horse's own quick thinking that stopped them from galloping straight into the arms of their pursuers. Ilona, however, knew the streets, and Vesta trusted her judgment, even when the girl decided to shake off the cavalry with a death-or-glory charge back through the marketplace that sent goats and silk and numerous fruits scattering to the winds.

Then the Calormene soldiers began to show their merit. They split up to cut off their prey, doubling back and making unexpected turns. Twice, the Narnians had to veer suddenly into alleys so narrow Ilona banged her knee on the bricks. At one point the Calormene pursuit actually caught them, blocking both ends of the street; without a second's thought Vesta ducked at a full gallop through the back door of a bakery, scared the living daylights out of a servant boy, jumped the counter (Ilona's head brushed the low ceiling) and bolted out the entrance. This unexpected move bought them a few seconds; they turned left, swung right, shot diagonally between two houses, and emerged to find…

…a dead end.

The wall was so close that Vesta nearly crashed into it before she had time to see it. As it was, she stopped so abruptly that Ilona, who had been riding extremely well considering she had never done it before, smashed her nose on the back of Vesta's head and tumbled to the rough street. She forced herself back onto her feet, trying to ignore the skin that had been torn from her arm. Vesta, looking apologetic, offered Ilona her back, and the girl hurriedly clambered back on.

Once Ilona was mounted once more, Vesta backed up almost to the end of the street. Ilona could hear hoofbeats and shouting from both directions, coming closer every second. They were trapped. There was nowhere left to run.

Except forward.

Vesta stared down the street. She launched herself forward with a suddenness that nearly toppled Ilona again, then stopped and backed up. Her eyes burned into the brick wall with a hard, blazing determination.

"That's not possible," breathed Ilona.

Vesta disagreed. With a furious whinny, she reared and plunged, throwing every bit of speed that she could strip from her body into her charge just as the first of the cavalry rounded the corner.

Ilona would later state many times that Vesta could have outstripped an arrow that day. The cherry-colored half-breed horse flew at the wall with such power and energy that the cavalry halted in astonishment.

She's going to make it. By Aslan, Ilona thought, the first but not the last time she would invoke the Lion's name. She's actually going to make it!

But Ilona had been right the first time. As they neared the wall, Vesta suddenly tossed back her head, threw herself onto her haunches and skidded to a stop, rearing sharply to avoid hitting the bricks. Ilona was thrown again, violently this time. She slammed into the unforgiving cobblestones, and she had time to hear several somethings crack before her head crashed into the ground and her world went black.

The cavalry trotted up to them. Ishdar Tarkaan dismounted immediately and knelt beside the unconscious girl, ignoring the horse's defiant warning bugle. He sighed with relief as Ilona's eyes flickered open and focused on his face. She gasped and tried to scramble away, but cried out in pain and quickly stopped moving.

"Lie still, young maiden," said the Tarkaan. "You are injured, but with the grace of the gods you will recover."

One of his men stared open-mouthed at Vesta, who was now standing very still against the wall, looking at Ilona with worry and glaring distrustfully at Ishdar. "Demons above and below!" exclaimed the soldier. "Here is a horse from the stables of Tash himself!"

"Ravings of a madman," said a cold voice from above them.


Canisp looked down at the four men. They didn't seem aggressive towards Ilona; indeed, their captain was inspecting her injuries, and it seemed they had no desire to use force against her.

Canisp found their reactions upon seeing her highly amusing. She knew she shouldn't enjoy their cries of terror and awe, or the way they immediately dismounted and dropped to their knees, but it was one of those things that one can't help but enjoy.

She shifted into human form, ignoring the gasps of the kneeling soldiers, and jumped down from the top of the wall. The landing was a bit heavy, but the cavalry men were too busy kowtowing to notice that. Kneeling next to Ilona, she looked her over with concern. Her golden eyes widened when she saw the lump on Ilona's temple, the scrape on her arm and the impressive amount of blood that her broken nose was producing, which likely looked more serious than it actually was. At the sight of the girl's wrist, which was held at an unmistakably unnatural angle, Canisp could no longer contain a furious snarl. "By the Lion!" she exclaimed. "What did you dogs do to her?"

"O my mistress and O the delight of-" began Ishdar.

"Stop it," Canisp snapped. "I've had enough of the Calormene babble. Just answer me."

"We did not harm her, my mistress," said Ishdar hurriedly. "She was thrown from her horse and landed badly."

"On her face and her wrist at the same time?"

Ilona spoke up weakly. "Vesta was trying to jump the wall, my lady."

Canisp blinked and looked between Ilona and the wall. "This wall?"

"Yes."

"That's impossible."

"Yes."

"She has dislocated her shoulder, my mistress, and her wrist is broken as well. I believe she may have also injured her ribs but they do not appear broken. She hit her head badly but it seems she will not suffer any permanent damage, and though her arm bleeds it is merely a scrape, and your companion is strong." Ishdar ducked his head subserviently, and Canisp was impressed with the professional certainty of his summary in spite of herself. "And she bears the blessing of Tash the irresistible, does she not?"

Orion, who was still perched on top of the wall, looked askance at him. When Canisp signed to him that he might as well speak—the game was up now, after all—he said, "Did you hit your head as well?"

Ishdar jumped at the sound of Orion's voice, but rallied quickly. "The…the Tisroc (may he live forever) has the finest physicians in the land," he said to cover up his blunder. "I am merely an amateur. They can soon make her well."

"I don't doubt they could," Canisp agreed. "But what interest would the Tisroc's pet healers have in her?"

Ishdar looked shocked that she would even have to ask. "You are a changeling," he said. "A servant of Tash. This we have seen with our own eyes. You are higher than any mortal man save the Tisroc, may he live forever."

"Servant of…" Canisp spluttered. "Servant of Tash! Of all the ridiculous arf!"

This high-pitched and almost comically doglike yelp was the result of a well-placed kick on Ilona's part, which drove the wind from Canisp's lungs and effectively shut her up. While she was gasping for breath, Ilona looked up at Ishdar and said—magnificently, in spite of the fact that she was pale as death and covered in blood, "It is… aaaah… well said, good man, and my mistress thanks you. I am sorry that I led you such a chase, but as you see, it is my mistress' place to accept the Tisroc's invitation, not mine." As she spoke, she placed her uninjured hand weakly on her leg, two fingers crossed.

It was one of Canisp's silent signals. It meant trust me.

And as much as Canisp had wanted to remain inconspicuous, as much as her very nature cringed away from the thought of playing an angel of Tash—Tash!—she trusted Ilona.

There were many practical reasons to walk into the palace of her own free will. Ilona needed the kind of serious medical care than couldn't be provided on the run; if Canisp was trying to set right some great injustice, there were few better places to do so than in the heart of the Calormene government; and, as Orion kept having to remind her, everything happened for a reason, and they needed to trust in Aslan's design. But as the monumental gates of the Tisroc's palace, dripping with jewels and ivory, closed behind them, none of these reasons crossed her mind. The only thought in Canisp's head was:

Ilona, I hope you know what you're doing.

A/N: For the record, no, Canisp isn't an angel of Aslan, either. She's not an angel period. She is exactly what Aslan said she was.